Varieties of Gaming Experience
One day last week (they all seemed to blur together) I was playing GTA 3 (the 'original', though I remember the earlier, overhead predecessors) whilst listening to Radio 4 and a programme started whose premise seemed to be as follows: some concerned, well-meaning, well-healed, radio-4-listening, world-consciousness-raising parents believed their son was spending too much time playing computer games, and thought they would try to 'inspire' him out of the joypad bashing by taking him somewhere 'exotic' (the Mongolian Steppe, I believe) and showing him that the real world was such an exciting, interesting and engaging place that he didn't need to look to 'virtual worlds' for excitement, interest, or engagement.
A fine sentiment (though, as before, it's slightly naive and objectionable that rich Westerners should believe that the every-day activities of poor Easterners should automatically be more exciting or interesting than their own), but I think it's based on the wrong idea about one of the main appeals of games. Games narrow, rather than expand, our range or interests, choices, possibilities, and experiences: that's what's so addictive about them.
I write as someone who knows the visceral appeal of (computer) games all too intimately. I think it's a more heightened, more temporal, microcosmic variant of what draws people towards religious rituals, life-coaching manuals, habits and routines, and strict 'moral' codes. To my mind, such activities make reality more game-like: they narrow down the range of choices people have (and have to make) in their daily lives, they strongly dictate the goals towards which individuals should direct their efforts, they offer a limited range of options about how such goals should be achieved, and they assure adherents that achieving the goals whilst playing by the rules will be amply rewarded.
For someone who can adopt a game-like metaphysical framework, the world becomes a clearer, simpler place - with good guys and bad guys, right actions and wrong actions, things to strive for and things to avoid. Do an hour of yoga every day before going to work, and you'll live to a grand old age in great health; pray seven times a day (at times and in ways that are clearly defined), and you're guaranteed a place in paradise; just do these things this way and everything will be fine. 'Life' becomes a game: no more need to worry about the 'what' or the 'why' of it all, now all that matters is 'how'. ('How' to become a millionaire; 'how' best to show one's devotion to God; and so on...)
Within the programme it was mentioned that the son the parents wanted to wean off games by showing him the breadth of the world had been diagnosed at school as 'dyslexic' and 'dyspraxic'. If he were in the US, I guess this means he'd been labeled as having 'ADD'... whatever the official diagnostic category, my guess is this means the child has more difficulty 'paying attention' and 'staying focused' than most of his peers.
Or, to flip this logic on its head, this probably means he's probably already more 'open to new experiences' and aware of things going on around him than most of his peers. Perhaps his world is a little less linear, a little less structured, a little less certain, a little more ambiguous, than most of his peers'. Perhaps, then, computer games function as temporary respites; oases of structure and certainty in a complex and shapeless world populated by people who don't seem to realise that it's not a game.
... Or maybe that's just me.
A fine sentiment (though, as before, it's slightly naive and objectionable that rich Westerners should believe that the every-day activities of poor Easterners should automatically be more exciting or interesting than their own), but I think it's based on the wrong idea about one of the main appeals of games. Games narrow, rather than expand, our range or interests, choices, possibilities, and experiences: that's what's so addictive about them.
I write as someone who knows the visceral appeal of (computer) games all too intimately. I think it's a more heightened, more temporal, microcosmic variant of what draws people towards religious rituals, life-coaching manuals, habits and routines, and strict 'moral' codes. To my mind, such activities make reality more game-like: they narrow down the range of choices people have (and have to make) in their daily lives, they strongly dictate the goals towards which individuals should direct their efforts, they offer a limited range of options about how such goals should be achieved, and they assure adherents that achieving the goals whilst playing by the rules will be amply rewarded.
For someone who can adopt a game-like metaphysical framework, the world becomes a clearer, simpler place - with good guys and bad guys, right actions and wrong actions, things to strive for and things to avoid. Do an hour of yoga every day before going to work, and you'll live to a grand old age in great health; pray seven times a day (at times and in ways that are clearly defined), and you're guaranteed a place in paradise; just do these things this way and everything will be fine. 'Life' becomes a game: no more need to worry about the 'what' or the 'why' of it all, now all that matters is 'how'. ('How' to become a millionaire; 'how' best to show one's devotion to God; and so on...)
Within the programme it was mentioned that the son the parents wanted to wean off games by showing him the breadth of the world had been diagnosed at school as 'dyslexic' and 'dyspraxic'. If he were in the US, I guess this means he'd been labeled as having 'ADD'... whatever the official diagnostic category, my guess is this means the child has more difficulty 'paying attention' and 'staying focused' than most of his peers.
Or, to flip this logic on its head, this probably means he's probably already more 'open to new experiences' and aware of things going on around him than most of his peers. Perhaps his world is a little less linear, a little less structured, a little less certain, a little more ambiguous, than most of his peers'. Perhaps, then, computer games function as temporary respites; oases of structure and certainty in a complex and shapeless world populated by people who don't seem to realise that it's not a game.
... Or maybe that's just me.