Over the weekend, I sat down and beat the Endless Setlist on Rock Band 2. I’d been looking forward to attempting it as I saw myself getting closer to it, but it took me longer to do than I expected.

The problem was that there were several cities filled with songs I had no interest in singing in my way. So in the tradition of students everywhere, I avoided Rock Band 2 for a while so I wouldn’t have to deal with them. And then I decided to just play the Quickplay mode for a while for “practice”…on songs I liked singing that weren’t destined to be part of the Endless Setlist. Finally, I decided I just had to sit down and do it…mostly because I realized it would be nice to have the Endless Setlist completed before PAX.

The guys behind Rock Band 2 really had the right idea in designing those last cities, though. I spent a month’s worth of weekends singing almost nothing but the Challenging songs in the game, songs I was only too happy to avoid (because I don’t care for the groups involved, not because I found the songs difficult). By the time I sat down to work on the Endless Setlist Friday morning, I was so comfortable with those songs that hitting the end of the Endless Setlist was almost more relaxing than stressful.

If the game hadn’t forced me to keep practicing those songs, I wouldn’t have been ready to deal with them. And I wouldn’t have been able to complete the Endless Setlist. It’s a brilliant design, and it reinforces the importance of practicing even those things we’d rather just see disappear.

A friend gave me MySims Kingdom (DS) for my birthday a couple of weeks ago, so that’s taken over the bulk of my gaming time. At first, it seemed fine. I created my Sim and sent her off on errand after errand for the people on her island, playing any mini-game I came across. I sort of followed the storyline, which I think was meant to explain why the island was so sparse. The King was constantly lecturing the mayor and me for not rebuilding the island.

Over the weekend, it finally occurred to me that I wasn’t really playing a Sims game. I was ignoring the player-controlled design for just trying to get through the game. I was trying to play an RPG. I started using the tools and mini-games to acquire things. I ran myself silly trying to collect things, without using them. Again, I still wasn’t playing a Sims game. By that time, I had finished enough of the tasks that the storyline had effectively vanished, leaving me with nothing but the design aspect of the game.  Realizing that, I slowly started actually trying to design each of my little houses. I even started building in some of the areas.

And then, in trying to plan out the design for the area where the game started, it finally occurred to me why I wasn’t paying the game as it was intended: I was waiting for the game to begin.

I know it sounds odd, especially since I’d seen Sims games before, but I kind of expected a game with “Kingdom” in the title and castles, dragons, and magic wands in the commercials and trailers to actually exhibit more fantasy tropes than an angry king and a rumored Star Prince. And there I was with a modern kitchen in one of my houses and a helicopter to fly me between the lowest and highest levels of the island.

Yep, that’s fantasy!

A little research soon revealed that MySims Kingdom for the DS was pretty much just like the MySims game, just with a King, and that all of the Kingdom theming went to the Wii version of the game. I’m so disappointed. I had specifically picked this game as my formal introduction to the Sims games because I love fantasy. I thought it would be an easy way to get involved and have fun. But it turns out it was too hard to theme everything in the DS game to match the title.

Adding to my frustration, the gameplay seems so pointless at times. For example, there’s no real sense of scarcity. Acquiring money and essences are both fairly simple and abundant, so you never really have to strategize how you’re going to save up enough to do what you want. Navigating across the island takes a while, too, even once you set up the heliports, and that can keep you from getting where you want to go during the time that spot is open for play. If I really want to be somewhere, I often have to kill time in that area or the adjacent area to make sure I can get where I need to be when I need to be.

Some of the Sims also have bizarre reactions to things. One of your errands is cheering up one of the shop owners. You encourage him and encourage him and encourage him…and he berates you for not being angry alongside him. I have no idea how that cheers him up, but… Another Sim blames you for the fact the pizza shop (that doesn’t actually seem to exist on the island, despite the fact the chef keeps appearing and demanding you give him vegetables) keeps screwing up his order. Once you get angry, he calms down. So, the indirect lesson here is if you get angry, things will be better.

Despite this major disappointment, I have had some fun exploring the island. I’m slowly designing each section (and it’s been quite a process to decide how to use each area). I  enjoy playing the mini-games, too. I like how they make sense with their objective and their location. Now that I’m actually trying to rebuild the island, I’m finding that I enjoy trying to theme an area (despite the fact the themes I’ve selected for most of the areas are very difficult to find items for).

As a game, MySims Kingdom is fun. As a Kingdom, the game could use a definite redesign.

In this little career shift I’m considering, I’ve discovered that I have a strong interest in educational games. At first, I thought that meant I had to go into developing educational media (which I don’t think exists anymore). And then someone told me I had to go into instructional design, and then teach myself to adapt everything for a K-12 audience. Admittedly, I thought that was pretty lame, especially since I have an elementary undergraduate major and a secondary graduate minor and know the two groups aren’t as similar as one might think.

I’ve finally stumbled onto serious games, which is closer to part of what I want to do, and then I stumbled onto these videos addressing how instructional design melds with game design. They made sense!

Now I just have to figure out the best way to take my skills and experience and transfer it to doing this type of work.

This really became an accidental series, but I think it reflects some of what’s often in the back of my mind when I’m playing a game or watching others game.

So far, the series has covered games as:

  1. a means to develop a better self-image while building team skills
  2. a means to learn how to interact with others fairly
  3. a means to learn how to best utilize resources and develop patience

Now, we have a skill I think I probably developed from playing all sorts of games when I was younger- the ability to solve problems, think outside the box, and innovate.

I know this is going to sound crazy, but for me thinking creatively really starts with thinking logically. What’s the procedure here? What are the absolutes? What’s the goal here? What’s the common sense here? And then I start looking at what I have and where I really need to go, and I make a decision from there.

Sometimes, it’s not so clear how I’m going to put things together to solve my problem, and that’s when the creative thinking comes in. I start theorizing ways to get where I’m going and pick the simplest or most effective one. When the first doesn’t work, I pick a solution that accounts for what caused the first to fail and go with that. I keep trying until something works.

It turns out I’m not so odd in my thinking. Researchers are finding that there are gamers who make guesses, execute their guesses, and then alter them to better fit the situation when they fail. They also document their data from earlier trials to help them later on. They apply the Scientific Method to their gaming. (You knew there was a reason you should pay more attention in science class.)

Sometimes, I’ll get stuck while playing a game, and then I have to resort to walkthroughs. I have found, though, that a walkthrough is really just an account of someone else’s trip through the game, and no two walkthroughs are ever the same. So, I’ll look at how they did it to see if I’ve overlooked something, and then I continue on. What’s really interesting is that Nintendo has a patent for the “Kind Code”, an in-game walkthrough of sorts so you don’t have to go looking for outside resources when you’re stuck (and so you won’t quit the game in frustration). But you can use the in-game hint, and then decide to resolve the problem your own way if you see something that would work just as well, if not better than the game developers’ solution.

With a little experimentation and a nudge when you need it, you can actually develop some well-honed problem solving skills simply by playing games.

Last night, my roommate explained Farmville to a friend of his. I personally don’t play the game, so I was fascinated as I listened to him explain the game and why he does what he does in game. For example, he explained he cultivates a certain type of crop because they’re cheap to plant and are guaranteed at least three times their worth when you sell the grown plant.

Having watched him play similar games, I know he’s applied this same mindset to those. As they keep working, he’s now always on the lookout for the best ROI, even though he has no clue what that means. And he’s looking to do the same when he makes deals with friends, coworkers, and others away from the game.

He’s also learning to be patient while he waits for things to happen in game so he can get what he needs to move on. I sat with him one night while he was playing the cafe game. We were chatting and he was cataloging the movies he’d just added to his collection, periodically looking at the screen. When I asked what he was doing, because it looked like his characters were moving around doing things on their own, he explained that he’d set up some things to cook, and he was waiting for one of them to finish so he could set up the next dish. This particular roommate can be impatient at times, so watching him find ways to keep himself occupied and calm while he waited for the in-game action to complete was impressive.

So, games can impart many lessons to both children and adults: being the best solo and team player you can, fair deals and interaction, and how to wisely invest resources.

During grad school, I spent my weekends helping out at a friend’s game shop. The shop hosted the Pokemon League and held a weekly tournament, which meant there were a lot of tweens and teens in the shop. My friend was often handling sales and doing orders and to say the other owner wasn’t good with kids would be a gross understatement, so I ran League and the tournament and my friend did all the official paperwork for it.

Watching the kids between games and tournament rounds was interesting. They would swap strategy tips and help out confused newcomers. The more experienced kids would take on a trainer or mentoring role, adopting the new kid and showing them how to best use their cards or how to combine their cards. They would help them navigate the League procedures. The newcomer was quickly settled in, and the kids were helping each other become better players.

Sometimes, the kids would trade cards. They’d work together to find a comparable trade that would make both parties happy. Sometimes, they’d come borrow a trade magazine to check and make sure they had a fair trade going. When a dispute came up, they worked it out themselves or asked a third kid to help them resolve it. They only brought it to the owners if they absolutely couldn’t work it out on their own.

A couple of years after I left, these same kids were working together to set up in-store leagues and tournaments for other TCGs, continuing to mentor new kids in as they showed up. We were pretty proud of them.

People frown on the obsessiveness that can come from gaming, especially TCGs and miniature gaming, but they’re missing the benefits these kids get from engaging in them. They learn to share their knowledge. They learn how to help out someone else, selflessly in most cases. They learn how to resolve their own disagreements. They learn how to negotiate with an eye toward win-win results. They learn how to interact with each other, and they learn what is appropriate and what is inappropriate in interacting with someone else.

Gaming develops a wide range of skills, which helps younger gamers develop into adults who can better handle the world around them.

Over the holidays, I had the opportunity to play Rock Band with some friends. I was already playing when they showed up, and I had to fight to not let my stage fright get the better of me (especially since I used to play with one of them all the time). But I stood there, hoping they weren’t listening to me, hoping they weren’t watching the screen. Deep down, I knew they were making mental notes of every phrase I completed that wasn’t perfect.

They really weren’t. They were too busy discussing the background to care what I was doing, and as soon as the song was over they were grabbing guitars and logging on. Lesson #1: No one expects you to be perfect. They just want you to try.

Before long, the three of us were jamming out, having fun. Everyone worked at their own level, and we sounded great. Occasionally, one of us would try to play something a level higher than we normally would, just to see if we could do it, and the others were supportive. Lesson #2: You don’t have to be as talented as the guy next to you. You just have to do well at your own level and stretch yourself periodically.

Of course, in pushing ourselves (or in trying songs one of us really didn’t know), we’d inevitably find ourselves struggling. No one would really notice until part of the screen started glowing red, and then someone would activate their Overdrive and save us. Lesson #3: When everyone is keeping up their end of the job, no one notices your mistakes until there’s a noticeable call for help, and then they help you out.

I’ve felt for a long time that gaming, like playing, is necessary for skill development. Small children learn about the world around them through play. Children and adults learn how to interact with each other and the world around them through gaming. There are companies that are starting to view skills acquired through gaming just as strong or as valid as those earned through work and volunteer experience.

You just have to open yourself to learning and to what constitutes a “learning experience”.

One of the issues I’ve been struggling with as I try to imagine how I would develop game-inspired educational material is how to incorporate my teaching style into my work. The problem is: I’m a Constructivist with Socratic tendencies.

That first isn’t too big a problem. Sequential story-lessons are easily planned out and created, and mythocentric game design makes a compelling argument for letting story-lessons that don’t rely on each other serve as a “level” that the learner can explore at will before being allowed to move on to the next “level” and building on what they’ve learned in lower “levels”.

The second, however, is a bit more challenging. I tend to direct my students through questions, helping them to make their own connections and to see why they’re doing what they’re doing. When the teacher isn’t present, though, it’s hard to know what sequence of questions to set up to help facilitate that type of learning.

After reading Emily Short’s series on modeling conversation in interactive fiction, I thought I had it somewhat figured out: create a Guide NPC to ask more common or basic questions to guide learner between encounters and to help the learner think through the problem when they’ve made a mistake. The Guide NPC could even go so far as to offer a review if the learner is completely off-topic.

The more I thought about that, the more I felt myself getting turned around because I felt I was making too big an assumption with the basic or common questions. Then, a former student and I gather around a virtual whiteboard to see what was going wrong on a homework assignment, and I found a preliminary answer. As we talked, I found the probing and directing questions I nearly always ask, mainly because she was asking herself those questions with a preface of, “I know you’d ask me…”

The next problem to either resolve or let go is wait time. I use that to help feel out where a student is in understanding what they’re working on, but I can’t exactly give a fictional character that same instinct.

A friend loaned me this game when I was laid up with tendinitis in my ankle, and I’ve been slowly working. my way through it.

Well, I was. The game play has finally pushed me too far, and I’ve lost all desire to return.

At first, I liked working my way through the conversations and the trial. But soon enough I was finding that a character would tell you exactly what you needed to know to break their testimony, but because they told you, there was no evidence to present and you actually had to figure out what piece of evidence sort of related to that testimony to get them to say it at the right moment. Except they didn’t seem to remember they had already told you that piece of information, and the judge would throw it out.

It got pretty frustrating after the first couple of times it happened in the first case. Add to that the repetitive nature of the movement and conversations (at one point, you have to have the same conversation with a character five times before you finally get the information you need to move forward in the case), and the game became fairly stale.

Phoenix and the Fey girls are fairly entertaining, but they aren’t enough to make you ignore the game play.

Ever since I was a kid, I’ve been keenly aware of female characters in the everything I read or watch. I love a good strong female character, but was always very aware that there just weren’t that many, protagonist or otherwise, in the action series I was fond of.

I was so aware of how few girls there were that by middle school, I was calling characters like Gloria Baker and R.C. “token girls”, a term I still apply to the girl character in a group of guys. I was keenly aware of the token girl in every cartoon I watched or book I read. I resented when Gloria was knocked unconscious and one of the men had to rescue her. When Artemis Entreri took Catti-Brie hostage, I was nearly ready to walk out on IceWind Dale.

Playing with my boy cousins, I was invariably the person who got kidnapped by the “bad guy”. (I was always fairly well-treated by my captor, too.) When I grew up and fell in with a LARP crowd, I often found myself the only girl around and therefore the damsel in distress during games. Sometimes, both as a child an an adult, I didn’t really care because it made sense with the storyline of the game. But then there were times where it was clear that the caveman thinking went: She’s a girl. Girls always get kidnapped by the bad guy. Let’s go to great lengths to kidnap her in favor of a more easily snagged guy. And I protested.

There are plenty of examples where the token girl is allowed to just be part of the team, but there aren’t enough of them to have a strong impact on children, their games, and the stories they create.

© 2010 Rebecca Thomas Designs Suffusion WordPress theme by Sayontan Sinha

Bad Behavior has blocked 72 access attempts in the last 7 days.