Tuesday, November 20, 2007

Ludology & Narratology


Narratology. Apparently this 'ology' has been around for a while as evidenced by Blogger's built in spell checker that doesn't see red when it sees the word in black. Since the term has been around for a while I suppose no one needs me to explain that narratology is the study of narratives.

Ludology. Now there's a different story. Ludology drives Blogger's spell checker nuts. It is not a term that has been around for long, that's for sure. For those as uninitiated as Blogger's spell checker, ludology comes from the combination of 'ludi' meaning 'game' and 'ology' meaning 'the study of'--ludology therefore means 'the study of games'. While games may have been studied games in the past, gaming has become more complex as technology becomes more complex as well--so complex has gaming become that a new spell checker irritating word has been created to define it.

So what do these two ologies have two do with one another? Perhaps the answer can be found in the 'snapshot' of the 'house' at the beginning of this blog entry.

While ludology is the study of games and gaming for the sake of studying games and gaming in and of itself, games have progressed to the point to where studying many games now includes the study of the narrative of the game.

Again, the idea that games have a narrative is not new. As Janet Murray points out in her essay, From Game-Story to Cyberdrama, "Games are always stories, even abstract games such as checkers or Tetris, which are about winning and losing, casting the player as the opponent-battling or environment-battling hero." What appears to be new is the incorporation of the narrative within the game itself. While a game may in fact be a story, the advent of digital media has taken a turn toward making the story a game. Murray makes the point that storytelling in games has become more and more common place because "the digital medium is well-suited to gaming..." Gaming and stories have many things in common, not the least of which is the fact that, again quoting Murray, "Stories and games are also both distanced from the real world..." Digital stories are allowing 'players' more ways in which to experience the story being told offering "still images, moving images, text, audio, three-dimensional, navigable space--more of the building blocks of storytelling than any single medium has ever offered us." (Murray, From Game Story to Cyberdrama)

So what does all of this have to do with the 'snapshot' of the 'house' at the beginning of this blog entry? In the introduction to the chapter "Ludology" in the book First Person, the editors Noah Wardrip-Fruin and Pat Harrigan ask the question, "Why focus on things that do not exist, are arguable impossible, and should they ever be created, might turn out to be of only marginal interest?" (35) The 'snapshot' and 'house' previously mentioned might, in some way, answer that question as the snapshot isn't really a snapshot and the house isn't really a house--at least not in the way we normally think of snapshots and houses.

The snapshot is a photo of a house in Second Life--my house to be precise. It is in that house that my "second self," Saraide Indigo, conducts business, meetings, and sometimes attends classes. In fact, Saraide is presently, along with the other members of the Tech Art class, constructing a narrative from her home that does not exist.

Second Life might qualify as an answer to Wardrip-Fruin and Harrigan's question. While games such as The Sims existed, they did not provide anywhere near the level of interaction and creation as exists in Second Life. It may be argued that prior to its creation, itself may have been thought of as an impossible dream and one that might have been of interest to only a few "techies". With millions of members across the globe conducting business, relationships, or creating what may be described as digital artwork, Second Life seems to demonstrate quite vividly the value of focusing on the impossible and possibly marginal.

While I have heard the criticism that Second Life is not real enough for some, for others, it seems to provide an answer to Ken Perlin's question, "...what would it take to make an interactive character on our computer screen seem real to us the way that a character on the page or silver screen does?" (Can There Be a Form Between Game and Story?, Ken Perlin) Second Life seems to imply that a high level of interactivity and artistic freedom goes a long way toward achieving that goal. User create their avatars--their clothes, hair, eyes, skin, and other body parts in as graphic detail as their imaginations allow. Once done, the user then explores the world more or less creating his or her own narrative along the way. Users may also enter pre-fabricated worlds where stories have been scripted for them, such as on the role playing worlds of Second Life.

In the coming weeks our TechArt class will be exploring the relationship between narrative and gaming first hand as we create our very own Second Life story--a story in which each class member will play a role not only in the story but in the story's creation. In fact, we have already been meeting in the house pictured at this blog entry's beginning. A large part of the story we create depends on the world already created within Second Life and what we are allowed to create within that world. While we may be considering ourselves as creating a story, we must also remember that we are, in some respects creating a game and in so doing, I believe we will be vividly demonstrating the truth of Henry Jenkins statement: "Game designers don't simply tell stories; they design worlds and sculpt spaces." (Game Design as Narrative Architecture)

It remains to be seen what kind of world we will design and how effect a story we will tell!

Thursday, November 8, 2007

The Horrifying Chair Experience


OK, so if I had a clue as to how to script in electricity for this "chair" I would certainly do so because I felt like this Second Life exercise was going to be the death of me or at least of my avatar.

I had high hopes for this project. I have always wanted to be an artist--a real artist--you know the tortured painter hacking off body parts to send to all those silly men who have spurned my affections. Two things have prevented this from occurring: my inability to paint anything other than stick figures (and even those are more or less abstract stick figures rather than anything remotely resembling realistic stick figures) and my severe aversion to pain.

Second Life, however, I thought might provide an outlet for all of this pent up desire. The textures are already created requiring no painting ability of my own to bring them into being, the objects or 'prims' are prefabricated requiring only my ability to stretch, shrink them, hollow them out, rotate them, move them up and down, and then assemble them all together into one happy completed object. It really appeared not much skill was required.

Ah, how wrong I was. First, I more or less started the project at the end, trying immediately to link my prims. Not only was I more or less doing things out of order but I also was completely misunderstanding the concept of linking--seriously misunderstanding the concept of linking.

Maybe I've dyed my brown hair blonde just one too many times or have suffered some other form of brain damage but I honestly thought that linking the prims meant that I would select them one by one and then they would somehow magically assemble themselves into the object I had pictured in my head. Yes. I really did. It took consulting with another class member to understand that as advanced as Second Life is, it is not in fact, some sort of mind-reading holodeck. Initially, my classmate thought my question of, "How does it know which prims go together," was a good one. That was of course, before she understood the level of my misunderstanding. What my classmate thought I asking was the how to select the 'parent prim'--the prim to which all the others are subordinate. She had no idea that what I was actually asking was how to select the items so Second Life would somehow magically know to form the prims into the object I had in mind.

Finally understanding that linking is basically virtually gluing the prims to one another so that they stay in place once assembled, I then set about attempting to actually create the chair. This was another time consuming ordeal. As detailed as the tutorial at the "Ivory Tower of Primitives" is, it apparently was not quite detailed enough for a fake blonde. In addition to completely not comprehending the concept of linking, I also misunderstood how to get the prim from the 'build' menu onto the ground. After using up a substantial amount of time, I learned that dragging a prim onto the ground does not garner the same results as clicking a prim and then clicking the ground.

After mastering these key concepts I then set about attempting to fashion the chair. My original idea was to construct a throne. This seemed easy enough as I thought pretty much the only prim I would need to work with was the cube. While this was by and large true, I had great difficulty attempting to see all sides of the object, great difficulty shaping this very simple prim, and great difficulty assembling the prims once they were finally, successfully clicked onto the ground. At long last I finally settled on something resembling more of a bench--if one can called something that looks like several two by fours tacked together a bench.

Did I enjoy anything about this experience? I did enjoy selecting the texture, having collected a number of free textures from various different Wal-Martesque freebie sims. In a desperate attempt to give the chair some 'personality' as our assignment required, I selected a pink marble texture for my disaster--I mean chair. I also enjoyed the scripting part, mainly because the scripting only required me to learn a tiny bit of the language and did not require much manual dexterity on my part.

One might assume that this experience has put me off of Second Life construction forever. Not so. Second Life fascinates me for some reason that I can't quite explain and the possibilities for exercising creativity, especially by constructing items, seems endless. As frustrating as this experience was, it actually reminded me of the way I felt years ago as a child learning to play piano. I desperately wanted to learn to play but had great difficulty learning to read music and even more difficulty getting my hands to follow my brain's instructions. Many times I threw fits and music all about my parents' living room. Despite all of this, I never gave up. The frustration appeared to be some kind of demonic exorcism of fear of failure and once the fear was spent music came easy to me and in the years that followed I became quite the virtuoso.
I'm hoping to have the same experience a second time as I work my way through Second Life.

Tuesday, October 23, 2007

Aisling in Unreal Life

Not being a gaming or role-playing person, I approached "Second Life" with my real life eyes rolling far back in my head. Soon my virtual anime eyes will roll at my judgmental attitude because I have decided that "Second Life" (abbreviated SL from here on) rocks!

I don't have anything against gaming or role-playing. It's just that being a full-time student, working two jobs, writing for an online magazine, and trying to maintain some semblance of a life takes up a so much of my time that I don't really have much time to waste. I came into SL thinking it was a monumental waste of time. I had planned to get in, find out what needed to be done, complete my assignment and never return to virtual reality.

However, SL is extremely seductive. Not only is it an amazing place for creatives to go, I've found it has practical applications in what SL terms "1st Life". For example, the magazine for which I write has a chat feature built in. Big deal, right? Every one has a chat group. However, in the next couple of weeks, the members of my site will find themselves sitting in chairs chatting with one another’s avatars. It adds a whole new dimension to the chat experience.

This brings up another interesting point about SL. While reading "Convergence Culture" in class we talked about how technology can be de-humanizing--how people will often shoot things off in an email that they would never consider saying to a person on the telephone, much less in face-to-face conversation. This occurs largely because of the anonymity of email, chat rooms, and/or e-groups. While there is still anonymity in SL, there is a person, even if it's only a virtual person sitting across from you. There are also rules of conduct in SL just as there are rules of conduct in 1st Life. Violation of these rules can result in the loss of one’s SL account. Chat rooms also have rules, however, the main difference is that if one is banned from a chat room it is fairly simple to log in as another user whereas if one is banned in SL one loses all that one has worked on—avatar, house, land, etc. It isn’t as simple as simply logging on again. All of this to me re-humanizes the technological experience.

I took this photo at the office of Peace Potential, a group started by “Duality Kincess.”

Speaking of avatars, meet Duality Kincess.

When we spoke, Duality was dressed as a vampiress. Duality teaches scripting and building classes in SL. Although she stated she was not normally dressed so otherworldly, the classes have themes for which she attempts to dress. When she teaches her class later on, she will arrive as a bat before changing into vampire.


I asked Duality about her avatar—how it compares to hear 1st Life body, etc. and what she hopes to achieve with it.

She stated that she wasn’t really trying to accomplish much with her avatar other than just being herself. She said that her avatar is as close in appearance as she can get to her 1st life body. “Well, as close as I can get to myself after having a Nip/Tuck experience. Lol.” She joked that she had undergone the SL equivalent of such an experience having bought her a new ‘skin’ and new hair. Skins to the uninitiated are forms that can be purchased in a variety of colors, ethnicities, shapes, and appearances. Some skins are extremely graphic rather than the Ken and Barbie versions supplied by SL.

I asked about the office in which were meeting. Who owns it? Who designed it? How much did it cost?

Duality told me that the office was donated by Non-Profit Commons, a group that donates space to non-profit organizations for the purpose of setting up office space. She said that there are 33 offices in the building in which we were meeting. She designed the space herself as all users do. Non-Profit Commons provides the space; the tenants provide the scripts.

Peace Potential is an experiment to see if virtual reality can be used to better real reality. The idea is to invite people of various religious backgrounds to sit, talk, and learn from one another. The hope is that the tolerance learned in SL will translate to tolerance in 1st Life.

Duality didn’t have much to say about my avatar other than getting her some new hair. Since I’m obsessed with my hair in 1st Life I was very agreeable to this suggestion and found some nice red locks for only $L5 which translates to about $.05USD which is considerably less than I spend shopping on eBay.

See? Yet another use for SL. LoL.

Sunday, October 14, 2007

Digital Storytelling

Digital storytelling...just what the heck is it? Before taking Dr. Lucas's class I have to say I honestly had no idea what it was. Not only did I not know what digital storytelling was I had no experience working with the Macintosh computers that made digital storytelling possible. I had always heard that Macs were far superior to PCs and definitely better suited to those with a creative temperament. However, since I have always considered my creativity limited to the writing world I never saw any reason to make the switch.

Enter my class, "Technology and the Creative Artist", a class designed to introduce creatives to new and varied ways of creating using technology that not that long ago would have cost thousands of dollars to get our hands on. This class has introduced me not only to new technology, but new ways that even people like me--people who are first and foremost storytellers--can find original ways of telling their stories.

Digital storytelling is one such way. For those of you who don't understand digital storytelling, it is basically a story, with a narrative, told in digital photographs or digital video. Macintosh's iLife software suite contains everything you need to produce a story you can be proud on your first try. GarageBand has hundreds of musical loops that you can mix to create an original score for your story, with little to no musical training required. iMovie allows you to create your digital story by arranging your photos, adding effects such as panning in and out of the image, and creating smooth transitions with fade ins and fade outs. You are in essence, creating a little movie--one in which you are writer, director, and producer. Once you have created your film you can save it, burn it to a DVD, or you can share it publicly on YouTube.

For my part, the experience was so much fun I actually bought a Mac. Let me say it here: what you've heard is true. These machines are unbelievably superior to PCs, even for people like me who are predominantly writers. In fact, it has been my experience that writing a good script is the foundation for creating a good digital story. I don't know why I'm surprised; the movies I enjoy are always ones, which are well written. As previously stated, a digital story is much like a mini-movie, so it's narrative is of primary importance.

The form the narrative takes however can be quite varied. This is something else I learned from my digital storytelling experience. One person in particular had a story that had an unconventional narrative--no words, only images along with a particularly apt song accompanying those images. Watching stories told in such a manner opened my eyes to ways in which I too, can tell stories in different, creative ways.

But is telling a story in a different, creative way really a requirement? Does it help the story? Is it necessary to supply images along with a narrative?

These questions are questions that are covered, in a way, in Andrew Glassner's book, Interactive Storytelling. While Glassner's book looks at the art of telling stories in a gaming venue, he does ask pertinent questions about the incorporation of new media into the art of storytelling. Basically, Glassner states that just adding in media for the sake of adding in media is not really a reason for doing it. What is important, in Glassner's view, is that the media add something to the story. For example, in chapter eight Glassner discusses the arguments that "adding computers doesn't help a thing" (pg. 220) and "interaction doesn't improve stories"(pg. 221). The gist of these arguments is that the addition of computers makes a world less real, and/or the addition of interaction can actually detract from the story itself.

Glassner seems to imply that media should have a purpose, it should serve some necessary function, it should add something to the story rather than be placed in a story simply because it can be added. My experience with digital storytelling is that the media does serve a necessary function. The images, if well chosen, add depth to the story being told. Not only that, but if the story being told is one of a personal nature, the addition of personal images with a well-written, personal narrative adds a dimension that a simple script cannot match. The images open a door to your life, or the life of the story and actually give the author a little more control over the story by allowing the author to show the audience what s/he had in mind during the creation of the story rather than relying upon the imagination of the audience to figure it out.

Posting the story to YouTube also gives the story and the writer a wider audience. YouTube is a something I honestly never thought I would use as I have never seen myself as much of a photographer or filmmaker. However, as Jensen discusses in his book, Convergence Culture, the walls between different forms of media are collapsing, the boundaries becoming more permeable. YouTube is a perfect example of this convergence of media. Now, even people like me with little to no experience or training in the digital arts can produce a film, upload it, and tell her story. It truly is a brave, new world.

Digital storytelling, like all other stories, has its place. There are, of course, stories, which won't translate well to this format; however, there are stories that are perfect for it. It is up to the author to decide how best to tell her story and then use all the media at her disposal to do just that.

Tuesday, September 25, 2007

Adventures in Babynapping

H.I. McDunnough’s Hero’s Journey

When thinking of 12 steps the first thing that usually leaps to mind is the AA Twelve Step Program. However, there is another journey that can be made in twelve steps—the “Hero’s Journey.”

Joseph Campbell, the historian and folklorist, first founded the twelve steps. However, Andrew Glassner makes Campbell’s original presentation of the twelve steps a bit more user-friendly in his book, “Interactive Storytelling.” Glassner uses The Matrix, Sling Blade, and The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time to illustrate the steps on the hero’s journey. Here, I will illustrate the hero’s journey using one of the quintessential epics of our time—the Cohen brothers’ film Raising Arizona.

Step 1: The Ordinary World. According to Glassner, this is the starting point, the place where we find the hero in everyday life, the place where he exists before starting out on the hero’s journey.

The ordinary world of our hero, H.I. McDunnough, known as “Hi”, begins in prison where Hi is known as a “repeat offender”. While in prison he meets the “desert flower”, Edwina, who he marries. They spend their lives in relative peace watching sunsets over the desert and attempting to procreate.

Step 2: Call to Adventure. In the hero’s journey something occurs that disrupts the natural balance of the ordinary world. The hero must respond to this occurrence in order to restore order to his ordinary world.

The peace of the desert trailer and daily procreation attempts of Hi and Edwina are completely thrown into chaos when Edwina’s doctor explains that “this woman who looked as fertile as the Tennessee Valley” could not conceive. The McDunnoughs are unable to adopt due to Hi’s “checkered past.” All of this throws the childless Edwina into a state of complete despondence. Then the news arrives that Florence Arizona, the wife of the owner of a chain of furniture stores, Nathan Arizona, family has had quintuplets—which are, in the words of the joking Nathan, “more than we can handle.” Edwina and Hi plot to assist the Arizonas in their plight by taking one of the tots off the hands of the Arizonas.

Step 3: Refusal of the Call. In this portion of the story the hero, while recognizing that action is needed to correct the imbalance in the ordinary world, nevertheless attempts to avoid taking that action.

While Edwina waits outside in the car, Hi climbs a ladder and enters the Arizona nursery on the second floor of the house. Hi, though initially in accord with Edwina on the baby relief plan, changes his mind once he sees the babies face-to-face. He returns, baby-less, to the waiting Edwina.

Step 4: Meeting with the Mentor. The mentor, who may be someone the hero has known all his life, pushes the hero to act.

Edwina demands that Hi get out of the car and to “go back in there” and get her a baby. Hi understands that returning with a baby is the only way to placate Edwina. He returns to the house and retrieves a child. He and Edwina then go home to celebrate.

Step 5: Crossing the Threshold. At this point in the story, the hero travels into a “special world.” (Glassner, 61) The special world can be a different place or a different state of mind.

Hi and Edwina’s celebration of their new family is interrupted by Gale and Evelle, two of Hi’s prison buddies who tunneled their way out of prison via a sewer line. Gale and Evelle ultimately realize that the McDunnough baby is actually the Arizona baby and that returning the child to the Arizona family brings a hefty reward. The baby is then re-kidnapped—this time by Gale and Evelle.

Step 6: Tests, Allies, Enemies. The hero meets those who attempt to thwart him on his quest as well as those who attempt to aid him.

Hi, in attempting to retrieve his twice-stolen baby, encounters several enemies. His friends, Gale and Evelle, are now his enemies having stolen what Hi stole first. Hi also encounters the mysterious biker Leonard Smalls who steals the twice stolen Arizona baby from Gale and Evelle. Edwina remains faithful to Hi, accompanying him on the quest to retrieve their pseudo-son. Hi is tested on the quest by not only Gale and Evelle but by the biker as well.

Step 6a: Meeting With the Goddess. At this point in the story the hero meets with an archetypal mother figure.

In Raising Arizona this step seems to be introduced early on when Hi meets Edwina in prison.

Step 6b: Atonement with the Father. Here the hero meets with an archetypal father figure who “tests and judges the hero”. (Glassner, 63)

Hi learns that the biker, Smalls, now has possession of the Arizona baby and sets out to confront him. The biker seems to do double duty here, serving not only as a figure of judgment but as a shadow type figure as well having the exact same tattoo as Hi in exactly the same place on his body.

Step 7: Approaching the Cave. The hero continues on his quest as the stakes get higher and the tests more challenging.

Hi tracks down Smalls and realizes that he will have to physically fight the giant in what will be a battle not only for the retrieval of the baby but for Hi’s very own life itself.

Step 8: The Ordeal. The hero enters the cave to “face the ordeal” (Glassner, 63) that awaits him. This is the “final obstacle before the attainment of his goal”. (Glassner, 63) This is not the end of the story, but the set-up for the climax.

Hi battles Smalls for the baby and for his life.

Step 9: The Reward. This is when the hero finally “attains the overt goal of his quest.” (Glassner, 64)

Hi defeats Smalls and he and Edwina retrieve the Arizona baby.

Step 10: The Road Back. Even though the hero has attained his goal, the story is not yet over. Now the task is to return to the ordinary world with that which he has attained.

Hi and Edwina, realizing the folly of their plan, decide to return the baby to the Arizona family.

Step 11: Resurrection. This is the final showdown between the hero and the villain. This is where the villain is destroyed either physically or psychologically.

Having defeated Smalls, Hi now faces the challenge of the enemy within—himself and his propensity toward crime and engaging in less than intelligent endeavors. He is facing the loss of his family as Edwina has stated that she believes that not only are they unfit parents but they are unfit together, period.

Step 12: Returning with the Elixir. When the hero returns home triumphant with the object of his quest in hand it is the end of the journey. This is the stage that Joseph Campbell “refers to as returning with the elixir.” (Glassner, 65) This return, while sometimes joyful, can also sometimes elicit less than excited reactions from the folks in the ordinary world.

Hi and Edwina return the Arizona baby to its rightful parents. Nathan Arizona, the child’s father, is initially overjoyed at his son’s return but soon realizes that Hi and Edwina are the people responsible for his loss in the first place. Hi has realized his goal but at the cost of possibly losing his marriage. However, upon the advice of Nathan, Hi and Edwina decide to sleep on the idea of divorce and during the night Hi has what appears to be a prophetic dreams outlining a happy future with Edwina replete with children all their own.


As Glassner says, the Hero's Journey "is not a formula, in the sense that following it does not guarantee a great story, and deviating from it does not guarantee a bad story" (Glassner, 66) but it is a helpful guide to use when analyzing stories--from classical to contemporary works.

Thursday, September 13, 2007

The Evil Found in Convergence Culture

Probably the one thing that struck me most about Convergence Culture was what I learned about the evils of Bert of Sesame Street fame. Prior to reading this book I was completely unaware that this harmless puppet kept such dark company. However, now that I have been enlightened by such sites as www.bertisevil.tv I will avoid this character completely. Yes, he may only be a puppet, but apparently those that pull his strings of the same ilk as those in Quentin Tarantino's Star Wars. Not only is he evil, but his association with Osama bin Laden guarantees that anyone keeping his company will receive a personal visit from Homeland Security.

The stunning revelation of Bert's character though paled in comparison to what I learned about American Idol. Prior to reading Convergence Culture, I saw Idol as an annoyance--something I was meant to know about, something I was meant to care about, something that I answer, "No, I've honestly never seen the damn show" several times a week to friends who shook their heads in pitying disbelief. However, after reading Convergence Culture this show took on a new light. I had no idea that in addition to enslaving millions to their television sets the show is also attempting, with very little subtlety, to enslave millions to their brands. Seriously, "Lovemarks and Emotional Capital"? No longer are we meant to simply have 'brand loyalty'--buying products because we trust the name behind them--now we are meant to allow corporations to "break into" our "hearts and minds. In that order..." according to Coca-Cola president Steven J. Heyer. Now, we are meant to equate Coca-Cola with that night that we sat on the edge of our seats squeezing our lover's hands as the rush of seeing Kelly Clarkson win caused him to propose. Seriously, before reading this book, I had no idea that television was being used to actually create a marketing audience. In the past, advertising was meant to win us over--ads were created to help us understand why we should buy Crest instead of Colgate. But now, advertisers are trying a far scarier approach; advertisers are now using television to make their products something that we should not only love, but something we must love in order to have clout. If we aren't part of the Idol bandwagon (and millions of people are) we are really worth advertisers' time. I wonder how long it will be before politicians follow suit.

To be continued...