Chungking Espresso

Ethics of Care & Alt Journalism Games

Posted in Columns, Newsgames, Schoolwork by Simon Ferrari on March 11, 2009

Originally written for Bogost’s Journalism & Games.

The ethics of care is a moral system devised by feminist philosophers who wanted an ethics based on a more “relational” mode of thought. Their basic criticism of typical ethical systems is that philosophers premise them on the idea of the light of reason – a fundamentally Western, male construct. Instead, they develop a system for ethical decision-making based on casuistry and storytelling (what Socrates would probably deride as a kind of “sophistry” because of its close relation to expressive rhetoric). First let me explain what is meant by casuistry and storytelling here; then, I’m going to suggest how this field might help develop a different kind of newsgame in the future.

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Casuistry is more legal practice than ethical philosophy. Instead of deriving right or wrong from moral absolutes, it takes into account every detail of a situation before making a final decision. Under an ethical system such as Kant’s categorical imperative (one acts morally if one wills that the maxim of her actions be enacted as universal law), one cannot kill another in self defense – doing so would require that you willed that all rational creatures took violent means to defend themselves. In legal proceedings, one admits to killing in self defense and then details the situation in an effort to convince the jury that the use of lethal force was warranted.

Philosophical systems are just that – regulatory processes that work in a top-down manner. Casuistry embraces the unit operational approach proposed by Bogost: right and wrong here are determined through the conscious selecting and synthesizing of individual laws, precedents, and situational details.

The storytelling espoused by the ethics of care is especially useful for women, because it helps one work through issues particular to femininity that often are not addressed by male philosophers. For instance, it is easy for a Kantian philosopher or Catholic priest to demonstrate how under their moral code abortion cannot be condoned. But the actual decision-making process of choosing to abort a pregnancy or not cannot usually be reduced to moral absolutes. This choice is tied to a woman’s relationship with her fetus – whether she has built a social connection to it on top of the biological one. Storytelling helps women to explain to others (and themselves) how and why they made their decisions.

Most existing newsgames have an editorial line; that is, they make implicit or explicit arguments through their mechanics and narratives. I’d like to suggest that some newsgames developers might ask whether argumentation is an even playing field; likewise, maybe one wants to contribute to the dialogue on a news issue by making a game but doesn’t find the argumentative nature of many of them appealing.

What first piqued this question for me was an informal article by Henry Jenkins about the journalistic experiences of one of his students, Huma Yusuf. In her coverage of a murder in Pakistan, she noted that she felt the un-journalistic need to mention the fact that one of the men she interviewed scratched his crotch suggestively while talking with her. Including details like this in formal reportage is considered anecdotal and unnecessary. Alternative journalism, such as the gonzo journalism of Hunter S. Thompson or the infotainment of the Daily Show, embrace such experiential data and personal viewpoints. I’ve been looking at a lot of newsgames to see if they incorporate a unique protagonist with motivations and personal characteristics through which their encounters with news events might be altered – not so much manipulating the facts but at least allowing players to view them subjectively and thus in a more multi-faceted manner.

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To explain the kind of thing I’m looking for, I’d like to take a look at a recent investigative game, even though it’s neither “serious” nor nonfictional. Dangerous High School Girls in Trouble is a 1920′s flapper girl mystery game. The protagonists are female, and they have a few characteristically post-feminist methods of inquiry with NPCs: fib, taunt, expose, and flirt. The game has minor roleplaying qualities – you choose your main character from about 10 girls, and you form a posse of four as your first task in the game world. Gameplay is composed of fairly simple word games influenced by the stats of the characters. Female and male NPCs are susceptible to different kinds of attacks (flirting obviously works well against most males, but sometimes doesn’t work on a loyal husband). The “point” of the game, besides having catty well-written fun – the game recently won an award for excellence in writing – is to uncover a sinister plot in the small town where the girls go to boarding school.

It is not my intention to assert that a professional female journalist should ever fib, taunt, or flirt their way to  ”the facts,” but I think there are a few ways we can look at the inclusion of such post-feminist inquiry in investigative newsgames. If, as Huma Yusuf suggests, men react differently to female reporters, then newsgames seem like an obvious place for this kind of experiential data to be embraced and explored.

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We have more upcoming posts in the works on Global Conflicts: Palestine and South America, and players do get to choose either a female or male avatar in those games. From our discussions, it didn’t sound like the gender change actually influenced the gameplay (someone correct me if I’m wrong). A valid criticism against my idea here would be: “But how does showing how different figures react to a female avatar, or how women might be able to gather information differently from male reporters, help us present the news objectively?”

My only defense against this would be to say that many newsgames have an educative aspect as well as a rhetorical one (Global Conflicts: South America is designed for a younger age group and marketed as an educational tool). Taking Yusuf’s example again, one could learn a lot about other cultures if a game incorporated replay value in the form of avatars of different gender. Playing through the game twice and seeing how the experience changes based on gender, one would learn the subtleties of unfamiliar cultures. Games about Africa would be a particularly apt place for this, since so many Americans run up against a conceptual wall when trying to understand issues such as female circumcision.

Speech, Speech, Speech!

Posted in Newsgames by Simon Ferrari on February 16, 2009

I just realized people recorded this information, so I’m putting it here as a reminder to build a proper CV.

I’m giving my first lecture ever! And it’s going to be a series of them!

Dr. Casey O’Donnell at the Grady School of UGA has invited me to lecture to game design, journalism, and digital media classes on Monday of next week. I’ll be talking mostly about journalism and games, digital media applications for journalists, interactive mapping, and newsgame design. Considering the fact that all the knowledge I have on these subjects comes secondhand from my professors (Ian Bogost, Janet Murray, Carl DiSalvo, and Celia Pearce), I’ll be lucky to make it out of the PJ building alive! Hopefully I can make it sound young and fresh for those in attendance. So if you’re a UGA student, ping me about the classes, times, and locations and we’ll see about getting you in to make fun of/criticize me.

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Follow Up: Practical Matters of Breaking Newsgames

Posted in Columns, Newsgames, Schoolwork by Simon Ferrari on February 15, 2009

This was my rough draft of a post that Ian turned into something much better on our blog at http://jag.lcc.gatech.edu/blog/  (see that post for a much better numbers crunch by Bogost including consideration of the Pareto Principal and problems of scale)

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Commenter Elle suggested that the model of Global Game Jam shows that people working concertedly for 48 hours could achieve amazing results; also, she asserted that newsgame developers should not balk at pulling all-nighters to make a breaking newsgame because mainstream developers do the same during crunch-time before going gold.

Certainly the Game Jam is an incredible asset to the development community, so let’s look at how it can and can’t work as a model for newsgame development. First, the groups working together for GGJ (up to five, with an average of four) are typically larger than most studios producing newsgames. We’re talking 1-3 person teams on a lot of the existing artifacts. Second, although a good number of finished pieces that come out of this competition, there’s an extraordinary mass of games that just don’t work. After the two day race is over, they’re completely broken. Many of the working games are basically hacked or jerry-rigged together. Professional game designers need to create something that works when thousands of people are visiting their site daily to play the game.

Ian and I did some calculations on the economic of Game Jam. There were 1600 participants, cramming in roughly a 40-hour work week within two days. This equates to 64,000 manhours. If we average the cost of a game designer at 50,000 dollars a year, we get an hourly pay of around 25 dollars. Multiplying that by manhours, Game Jam would cost about 1.6 million dollars. Three hundred and sixty working games came out of the project. Assuming all of them are “worth playing,” this comes to a rough cost of  $4,500 dollars per game. This happens to be an incredibly appealing and realistic cost for a newsgame (according to Ian); however, the cost becomes quite preventative if you start considering which of these are “worth playing” (50% would be a generous figure). Game Jam’s website doesn’t give us an accurate measure for this percentage, because around 300 of the 360 games post an average of 3/5 stars.

Another dissatisfied comment came from game designer Kriss Daniels. Daniels, because he finds most gamers so daft and most game mechanics so derivative, develops purposefully mind-numbing games as a form of protest and play with the industry. He derided my use of “tabloid games” as examples of quickly-made products following a news event (the Steve Irwin Stingray games are an example of this). He also didn’t like that I was only thinking about the narrative aspect of these games; that is to say, most tabloid games are poorly coded versions of side-scrolling or top-down shooters with crude cartoonish skins pulled from the news event. Even most well-received and -conceived newsgames are often derivative of tried-and-true core mechanics from arcade games. When the mechanics and the purported “purpose” or “message” of a newsgame do not allow meaningful player action, we have what Ian would call a “loose coupling” of mechanic and argument. Needless to say, this is a major obstacle for us to overcome.

In the last post, I attempted to find a way out of this predicament by hypothesizing an independent company that would license regular newsgames out to several traditional news sites. The idea is that this would allow enough coders to be working in the same place to be able to craft game mechanics for newsgames that wouldn’t be so copy-paste. Since this is only a hypothetical solution with no proof of concept, I’d like to develop another way out.

When coding a newsgame, what’s the hardest decision a developer needs to make? The answer to this question seems to be what information and player actions to include or exclude. In the words of Miguel Sicart, what one chooses to include or exclude determines the editorial line of a newsgame.

One highly detailed explanation of how time-consuming this decision-making process can be comes from pioneering geopolitical game creator Chris Crawford. The book he wrote about the design and construction of Balance of Power goes into detail about how he chose what data and player actions to include in the game. Working on a Mac Lisa, the biggest constraint for Crawford was RAM (128k at the time, not including the RAM taken up by the then-new GUI). Working as a freelancer after the collapse of Atari, time was a relatively liquid asset for Crawford. He had the time to program everything he wanted into the game, but he had to make cuts to account for the memory limitations. This iterative trimming and playtesting process appears to have lasted around 9 months for Balance of Power.

The situation is somewhat the opposite today for a newsgame developer: they have an almost unlimited amount of memory to work with (with a limiting factor being that it should not be too large in order to load up relatively quickly in Flash), but time is working against them if they want to release breaking newsgames. Despite this disparity in resources, I think Crawford’s modus operandi can still function as a basic model today.

The key for Crawford, once he had a bunch of data and mechanics that needed cutting, was to decide exactly which actions were necessary in order to convey an argument or a system to the player. Honing in on the idea that the Cold War superpowers were at the greatest risk of nuclear confrontation when drawn into a indirect conflict by their proxies, he settled on only allowing players to provide money, arms, or political pressure to a either a secondary nation’s government or its insurgency. This is an unarguably tight coupling between player action and Crawford’s argument. The goal for a breaking newsgame developer would be to prime her mind in order to be able to generate such a coupling quickly on hearing of a game-able news story.

Now, what does a working programmer have that the average participant in Game Jam does not? Besides, of course, the structure of a paying job and professional experience working specifically on newsgames. An answer to this question comes from an article by Chaim Gingold, one of our recent graduates and a lead developer on Will Wright’s Spore.

Gingold describes the plight of the game coder as this: you come up with a lot of ideas, you try to code them, and they don’t work. Most people take this process as a failure and throw everything away. Gingold suggests another way to use this process: save your code, extract the mechanics you developed, and use them later on other projects. For proof that this works even in a corporate atmosphere, Gingold tells the story of how he found a bunch of algorithms and simulations that would later be used in Spore on modified builds of prior Maxis games kept in storage at their studio. His argument is this: Wright makes games that are critically well-received and commercially successful because he constantly prototypes mechanics and never throws away any of his experiments.

Earth 2100 vs Superstruct

Posted in Columns, Newsgames, Schoolwork by Simon Ferrari on February 8, 2009
(originally written for http://jag.lcc.gatech.edu/blog/)
Earth 2100 is a crowdsourcing and future forecasting project – somewhat similar to Jane McGonigal’s Superstruct - in which “players” view video summaries about the state of the world in 2015, 2050, and 2100 before making videos based on the possible conditions presented by those scenarios. The best submissions make it into a 2-hour primetime special on ABC.

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Superstruct and Jane’s other games all deserve their own posts at some point, so I won’t go into an in-depth analysis of McGonigal’s design here; however, I will make some comparisons between Earth 2100 and Superstruct in order to contextualize the former. Superstruct is a future forecasting ARG (alternate reality game) focusing on multiple different scenarios in the year 2019: famine, pirates/raiders, disease, mass immigration, and war. Superstruct considers all of these possible scenarios as encapsulated alternate futures, while Earth 2100 takes a holistic approach by asking players to imagine what would happen if multiple conditions such as these converge over time; therefore, Superstruct tends to have many well-developed storylines for each possible future, while Earth 2100 stands more as a random scattering of entires.

It’s also probable that McGonigal, as the Dean of the ARG, would take issue with Earth 2100 even being referred to as a game. Superstruct incorporates a badge system similar to the achievement structure in World of Warcraft or the PS360. While the latter systems reward players with points by making general progress in games or accomplishing particularly difficult side tasks, Superstruct rewards players for specific contributions to the game community. When one of your submissions qualifies for a badge, one of the other players will nominate it for consideration. Consider two badges from the game (the most basic and the most difficult to earn, respectively):

Emergensight - 21 points
The ability to prepare for and handle suprising results and complexity that come with coordination, cooperation, and collaboration on extreme scales

High Ping Quotient - 2 points
Responsiveness to others’ requests for engagement and the ability to reach out to others in a network.

Every player can achieve a total of 100 points by earning every badge, and the points earned by every player combine to raise humanity’s “survival profile.” To continue comparisons with mainstream games, this global effort is similar to the server-wide resource-hoarding required to wage war on the gates of Ahn’Qiraj in vanilla WoW. Earth 2100, on the other hand, has no such affordances for player achievement. The “winners” of the contest receive airtime on ABC, but it’s only a two-hour long special packed with professional interviews and commercial breaks. Finally, the producers of Superstruct released content regularly in order to drive the narrative of their game – read: they did actual design work – while Earth 2100 users only get the introductory footage. A lack of a community feel and ludic structure results from all of these shortcomings.

Scenarios

In 2015, the world continues to suffer increased numbers of floods, droughts, and wildfires. We’ve probably failed to adequately confront the global climate crisis in this short period. Coastal regions suffer increasingly severe hurricanes and flooding as glaciers melt. Players see brief glances of infographics of Manhattan island being submerged. Provocative video clips show an African exodus and a mass Mexican border crossing. Food shortages are becoming a mounting problem in the less industrialized countries.

By 2050, food production cannot meet consumption levels as populations in Africa and Asia balloon. Water runs dry as the climate heats up. Major urban centers might be flooded by the ocean, but one can count on major reservoirs such as the Colorado River drying up – making it impossible to live in vast stretches of North America. By this time we’re nearly running out of gasoline , and brown-outs or complete electricity loss is common even in the US. Anti-immigration wars are a fact of life in industrialized nations. Scientists urge us to realize that nuclear war is a strong possibility during this time, because the protection provided by mutually-assured destruction vanishes if countries holding nuclear weapons have run out of food or water already. Video clips mostly show violent conflict in Africa.

Finally, in 2100, potable water has completely run out. People basically live in a second coming of the Middle Ages – meagre pockets of affluence are surrounded on all sides by subsistence living. One is left to imagine the political and religious consequences of these conditions. Accompanying video clips show subsistence living in African villages.

For the most part, these introductory videos require little in-depth analysis. It suffices to say that they are well-edited mini-documentaries mixing the talking heads of climatologists and political scientists with stock footage of natural disasters and political unrest. One rhetorical undercurrent does deserve note: Africa’s deplorable current conditions are used time and again as an example of what everyone’s world will be like in the future. One must ask the question, why aren’t we hosting an alternate reality game about ramping up humanitarian efforts in Africa instead of specious future forecasting? Using this footage without presenting “Africa 2009″ as a major contributor to future disaster in their convergence model strikes one as disturbingly colonialist.

Submissions

At the time of this writing (January 25th), a Producer’s Message has been released on the Earth 2100 website in order to give a “state of the game” address. Submissions have come in two forms: typical talking head vlogs and meticulously constructed vignettes with actual acting and pyrotechnics. Strangely, the producer actually encourages more of the amateur talking head content. This is probably because they want as many submissions as they can get; they’re also playing off of the popularity of the viral vlog genre (see lonelygirl15). Entries are organized by the location of their submission (or at least based on where the scenario presented takes place). The map animation is fairly poor, and it’s usually difficult to pinpoint something from a location you’re actually interested in. Despite this, one can see that submissions are trickling in from literally all around the world. There are 37 accepted entries posted to the site at this time.

Under the “Solutions” category, Jason Mann of (my alma mater) UGA’s Agroecology Lab and Full Moon Farm gives a basic explanation of the changing politics of farming in the U.S. He gives a rundown of how agriculture has become a niche understanding in formally rural states such as Georgia, and he encourages everyone to understand how scary it is that we don’t know where the majority of our food will come from in the future. Mann also gives an explanation of how he’s working against the average person losing all semblance of understanding food production: students from around the state can come visit his farm to spend half their time working the field and the other half learning textbook ecology and biology in a synergistic setting. The one other submission in the Solutions section is a voice-on-the-street documentary on how high school students see recycling as their most accessible method for combatting environmental disaster. The director provides no alternative or critique for this viewpoint (he is a high school student, after all).

Over half of the current submissions construct the world of 2015. Many entries are blogs simply reflecting on the conditions presented by the introductory video: water shortages, rising prices on groceries, and climate change. One impressive video (in the shaky handheld style of Cloverfield) depicts the “next big attack” on Manhattan through flashback. Just as in Cloverfield, the cameraman documents smiling New Yorkers chatting with each other and having a good time before running outside to view a noxious cloud of poisonous gas exploding over the city.

Dionne Figgins of Los Angeles mentions at the beginning of her vlog-style entry that although Obama’s presidency raised spirits in 2009, few people heeded his call to reduce our environmental impact. Now there are widespread water rationing efforts in the US. She details her disgust at an emerging divide between the rich and poor (one can pay $300 to bypass the ration for a week). Dionne presents one of the only “series” of videos submitted. Although most users put specific dates on their videos, she explicitly establishes a rough timeline for the two pieces she’s created for 2015. Her second entry takes place on July 4th and highlights the irony of America’s growing dependence on other countries – a dependence that the world regards with disdain on account of our former unwillingness to cooperate with them or successfully decelerate the tragedy in Africa. An African American woman, Ms. Figgins clearly understands that by politicizing her submissions she engages the current power structures leading to the convergence of escalating disasters in the 2015 scenario.

Videos for 2050 constitute a mixed bag of varying quality. One’s willingness to suspend disbelief on the vlog format begins to make these entries far less compelling. Despite this, two video diaries by teenaged girls in Texas ring clear from the noise: the temperature has risen so high that they go to school from 4pm to 8pm. They conduct the other half of their schoolday over the Internet, and high school sports have all but disappeared. The rising cost of subsistence becomes more arcane and menacing through the lens of two little girls unable to contribute fiscally to the well-being of their families.

A clever player presumably from Hong Kong creates a spy persona for himself in one of the more properly journalistic videos about 2050. He plays a compromised British agent monitoring deteriorating health conditions in China. His argument is that some countries will not report to the world the depth of their tragedy – this is information that must be smuggled out of these countries with sophisticated satellite hacking devices. The landscape of 2050 is particularly poignant for citizens of Hong Kong, who will be absorbed into China’s economy in  the year 2047. The producers of the game probably didn’t anticipate this particular angle when they determined this section of the game, so it’s great to see how cultural specificities affect the narratives created here.

At the time of this writing only one entry has been created for 2100. Two Chinese men run through a dusty, destroyed village while avoiding gunfire from invading Russians. This goes against the introductory material provided by the producers, who predict events such as this occurring in 2050 as opposed to this late date. Since it reflects a fear of Russian imperialism among Chinese citizens that I was previously unaware of, I anticipate that many of the players will end up doing much more than future forecasting – they will educate us about aspects of the current condition of the world that our mainstream news media ignores. In America one only hears about climatological and political crises in China. This video and the entry from Hong Kong have the potential to educate worldwide audiences in a way that only the Internet can.

Conclusions

I can safely assert that, by the time of this writing, Earth 2100 has not developed into what anyone would call a game. This is a future predicting video contest. Without the well-designed structures of an artifact such as Superstruct, the “players” of Earth 2100 struggle to understand exactly how they’re supposed to construct their narratives and play off of each other. I discern no continuity between multiple entrants (excepting the encapsulated series of videos by Dionne Figgins and Samuel Bennett), despite the fact that many of them use specific dates that one could conceivably manipulate into a timeline. This also leads to an over-abundance of redundant material. 

By making players jump between three such huge time gaps, it forces them to compact too many occurrences into an unrealistic span of time. Generally these submitters lack an understanding of how to depict systems that have been developing in the decades between the accepted dates – they structure everything as if it is breaking news. This would be valuable to our study here if one could actually call the experience a “game” or “journalistic.” Except for the spy piece on China in 2050 and one entry explicitly presented as an Internet news broadcast in 2015, the entries resemble either YouTube vlogs or short sci-fi student film projects. Understanding these video diaries requires a more comprehensive explanation of “citizen journalism” that we cannot explore in this article. As Earth 2100 develops toward the primetime airing of the game’s winners, and as our valuations of citizen journalism gain clarity, our project will likely return to some of this content in the future.

Dead Rising & Interventionist Media Ethics

Posted in Game Analysis, Newsgames, Schoolwork by Simon Ferrari on February 6, 2009

(originally written for http://jag.lcc.gatech.edu/blog/)

I’ve put off writing about Dead Rising in the context of journalism and games for awhile. It pained me to think of the negative review I’d have to give a game that I enjoyed so much. Luckily, in the past few weeks Capcom has released some information that helped get my ball rolling: Dead Rising’s port to the Wii (Dead Rising: Chop ‘Til You Drop) will not feature the ability to take snapshots with Frank’s camera. Cue Chris Hecker sound byte about the Wii’s processor not being able to handle a virtual camera (also, the Wii won’t be able to render nearly as many zombies in one location as the 360 could).   

This news begs the question: does the exclusion of the photography mechanic in the Wii version of Dead Rising change anything about what the game says about photojournalism as a practice? Let me first explain what the game is.

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Dead Rising is a survival horror third-person action game produced by Capcom, the makers of the popular Resident Evil series. You play a photojournalist stuck in the middle of a zombie outbreak in a shopping mall. Much of the gameplay is hack-and-slash: the mall is littered with hundreds of consumer goods that the protagonist Frank can use as melee weapons (hockey sticks, baseball bats, antique samurai swords). Gunplay in the game can be frustrating at times, as anyone used to the shooting in Resident Evil games can attest. Being a photographer, Frank can also snap shots of the zombies terrorizing human survivors. The idea is that he’s going to eventually leave the mall via helicopter and break the news story to the world.
My formative opinions on the subject of photojournalism and media ethics come from a dinner I shared once as a college freshman with UGA journalism professor Conrad Fink, the author of Writing Opinion for Impact. The opening words to this book are almost inflammatory:

“The first thing to learn in opinion writing is that you must unlearn one thing probably central to your idea of what a journalist is all about. You’ve picked it up in journalism courses: A journalist must stay out of the story, stay objective, stay dispassionate. Right?

Well, that was then – in reporting or newswriting courses – not now, when you must move from objective into subjective writing, when you must insert your ideas and your emotions into your writing, not eliminate them.”

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Fink (pictured in the middle) has numerous other publications on the subject of media ethics under his belt. The night I met him, he goaded me with a question while I stuffed my mouth with baked ziti; I paraphrase:   

“You’re a photojournalist, right? In another country. And there’s this humanitarian crisis going on. Do you try to help out, or is it your duty to just take the pictures now and hope they influence policy later?”

I had no idea how to answer. A few years later I attended the premiere of Richard Linklater’s Before Sunset. Julie Delpy’s character can barely contain her contempt for her photojournalist boyfriend:

“Well, once we were in New Delhi and we pass a bum, that was lying down the sidewalk… Anyway, like, he looked like he needed help, but his first reaction was to photograph him!

He went, like, really close to his face, fixing his collar, to make it look better. He was like totally detached from the person.

You know, I’m not… I’m not judging him for it, you know, what he does is essential and incredible.

…All I’m saying is that I could never do it.”

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In Dead Rising, your character hitches helicopter ride past a military blockade and into a shopping mall at the epicenter of a zombie holocaust. The scenario is familiar to any fan of zombie films: Dawn of the Dead famously features a helicopter landing onto a mall occupied by the zombie horde. The setting immediately associates consumerism with a braindead mentality; zombies are drawn to the mall, because in their undead stupor they seek the solace of the only place they were happy when they were alive.

The game begins with a tutorial on how to take photographs. Frank, hanging out the side of the helicopter, snaps a few shots of the zombies slaughtering the few remaining humans and coursing toward the shopping mall. Extra points are rewarded for viewing greater numbers of zombies, zooming in to frame the shot properly, and capturing particularly gruesome or otherwise evocative (sexual, pyrotechnic) imagery. Players raise their camera at risk of being attacked while framing their shot (they cannot shoot/bash while taking a picture). The basic controls allow zooming in and panning/tilting/tracking to set up the shot; focus and lighting are adjusted automatically. Being a Japanese game (har har), you gain experience points for taking better pictures and slaughtering zombies; these points lead to gaining levels that grant health, combat, and inventory bonuses.

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Let’s not overestimate the imagination that went into incorporating the camera mechanic into the gameplay. The system of scoring points is identical to its earlier implementation in games such as Pokemon Snap. This N64 safari-on-rails game allowed players to goad various Pokemon into striking poses that one then attempted to snap photos of at ideal times. Extra points were awarded for capturing herds of the animals or catching them in interesting situations (eating, doing a mating dance). Snap was innovative because the N64 was one of the first consoles that allowed players to move through realtime 3D environments. What’s most interesting about the mechanic in Dead Rising is the tight coupling between taking pictures and the overall goal of the game: to break news of the zombie uprising despite government black-boxing. Now, what changes the Wii port of the game by taking the camera away from the player? 

 

One can assume that this decision will streamline the action of the game and reward proportionately more experience points for battle prowess. Just as in the Resident Evil 4 port to the Wii, I expect that the shooting controls will improve with the Wii’s ability to point and shoot like a mouse; the difficulty of aiming a gun in the original 360 version was incredibly frustrating, especially considering how seamless the photography controls were (we can assume that these would have been more intuitive with the Wii-mote as well). Melee fighting will in the Wii version will, of course, be comprised of shaking the remote – though the coupling between shake and game action will be more akin to Mario Galaxy‘s simplistic spin attack than the tightly matched controls of Wii Sports.

Also, changing Frank’s camera batteries presents quite an aggravating task for the player; one constantly finds oneself running out of batteries and having to trudge to a few key points in the mall with hobbyist camera shops. The bigger change may come in yet-unseen changes to the storyline to make the game more linear (instead of having objectives emerge and disappear in realtime, players will be able to take their time and accomplish all the game’s many goals).
Besides these gameplay changes, it becomes more difficult to see greater effects to the game’s rhetoric. This is because the game’s narrative embraces the ethic of Fink and Linklater: a (photo)journalist in the field has the duty to insert themselves into a crisis (somehow).    

Running around the mall in Dead Rising, players are constantly given “scoops” or changes in the game state that provide meaningful action to the player. Without these scoops, there would be little to do in the game beside the objective of survival (Frank must wait 3 days for his helicopter to return). Scoops can include any of three things: survivors located in temporarily safe nooks and crannies of the mall that must be escorted to a saferoom, psychopaths slaughtering zombies and survivors alike in their PTSD-induced mania, and story progression points. There is a strong narrative motivation for these scoops: two NSA agents in the saferoom constantly monitor the mall through security cameras and send information to Frank via walkie-talkie.

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Frank only has a short time to complete the tasks sent to him. Most of the gameplay is a difficult yet mentally stimulating exercise in time management. If Frank fails to reach a survivor in time, their blockades are overrun and they become zombies; psychopaths will disappear into deeper recesses of the mall to either perish or continue torturing unseen survivors. Missing the story progression points has a more concrete consequence: players are given something similar to a “Game Over” screen telling them one thing only: “The truth has faded into darkness.” One can continue to play out the three-day survival experience, but your failure to uncover the governmental-conspiracy causes of the zombie outbreak will result in a highly unsatisfactory ending.
Trying not to spoil much, the player does not merely collect the interviews and photographs required to discover “The Truth.” Rather, Frank becomes the key figure striving to prevent a terrorist attack that threatens to spread the zombie plague outside the no-fly zone cordoned off by the military. This thoroughly mainstream third-person action game somehow manages to model the experience of being a photojournalist in a way that we don’t see in many explicitly educational games. Dealing with stringent deadlines, finding the safest or quickest course through potentially hostile territory, time management, the idea of missed journalistic opportunity, and the sometimes tedious necessity of arriving for a scoop prepared with adequate battery power and room in one’s camera for enough shots to capture the situation – all of that is there.   

The act of taking photographs of the slaughter does help couple the photojournalistic narrative trappings of the game with its gameplay, but the game’s more important argument about media ethics will likely remain intact when the game’s Wii port goes to shelves. One can certainly subvert the narrative of the game’s current Xbox 360 iteration by avoiding involvement in the crisis altogether and just snapping evocative photographs for three days – in fact, this strikes one as a much more intriguing utilization of the game’s affordances than, say, pretending to be a snap-happy tourist in a Grand Theft Auto game; however, this would be an exercise in purposefully arguing against the interventionist rhetoric of the game.

At the end of the day, the question still remains unanswered: “To what degree is a photojournalist morally compelled to become an agent of goodwill during a humanitarian crisis.” Because Dead Rising takes place during a fairly cut-and-dry zombie apocalypse, Frank’s decision to act for his survival is trivial. It will take newsgames that incorporate the strong points of this game to truly delve into the question of how far a photojournalist can go before risking manufacturing news through her ethically-motivated action. I’m sure Fink’s books go into details and practices that would help make this decision more clear, but an analysis of these works escapes the scope of this article. What I can say is that it is a shame that the Wii version of Dead Rising will only incorporate the photojournalist’s role in narrative as opposed to coupling it to gameplay with the camera mechanic and the realtime scoop system. Luckily, the narrative’s connection to the media ethic I’m suggesting is hiding beneath the thin veneer of zombie horror will likely remain intact.

Newsgames and Documentary

Posted in Columns, Film, Newsgames, Schoolwork by Simon Ferrari on January 16, 2009
I know you’ve already looked at the title and exclaimed: “Cinema Envy!” Well step off it for a moment, because I’m not going to sit here and lament how newsgames “aren’t as good” as documentaries. Rather, I’d like to take a look at the various sub-genres of documentary in order to identify some room for new types of newsgames that we might not have seen yet. Along the way, I’ll make some  comparisons between works in both media. I promise not to analyze them using the same standards or theories. I’ll also try to avoid stepping on Ayo’s toes here, because she’s planning on upcoming post on the value of transparent bias and reflexivity in film and games

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There are some games that are painfully reminiscent of the cliché of “talking head” documentaries. Ian and I examined a game called Homeland Guantanamos earlier in the semester about an alien (both legal and illegal) detention facility and one particularly troubling death that took place there. What started out as an intriguing investigation simulation quickly turned into a series of poorly motivated fetch quests linking together video clips of interviews with detainees. The makers almost seem to have given up on editing a properly engaging documentary and instead “settled” on making a video game, a medium they apparently associate with sloppy narrative and multimedia-happy tedium. The idea of going into a detainment area for unwanted or criminally suspect aliens does however call to mind Fred Wiseman’s work on High School and Titicut Follies. These are basically one of the precursors (print muckraking or “yellow journalism” being the other) to investigative TV reporting.

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Investigative journalism works in any medium – for a time. By transposing oneself onto the camera’s POV, both Wiseman films and investigative news allow one to gain access to secret or contested spaces; however, recent studies have shown that TV viewers are perceiving such “soft journalism” as a poor turn for television news. And we don’t see documentaries like Born Into Brothels or Iraq In Fragments causing the same amount of public commotion as did Titticut Follies, which – along with works such as Foucalt’s Discipline and Punish – raised widespread concern over the well-being of people held in mental health facilities.

Perhaps its time for serious games to step up to the plate and take on the muckraking mantle? I don’t think it’s diminutive to say that what counts as soft news in TV and film is much “harder” than most of the material one comes across in video games: it’s a nice place to start and develop from. Video games simulate processes and spaces better than any other medium, and they grant a modicum of control that aids engagement with an issue. What I’m saying is, Homeland Guantanamos could have been a really important newsgame. If a game similar to Molleindustria’s McDonald’s tasked itself with focusing on one of its four mini-simulators, say the cattle processing plant, then something far more meaningful than an investigative report would emerge. PETA’s Mama Kills Turkeys pairs the familiar Cooking Mama sim with shocking video footage of poultry plants. This could have been a really persuasive piece, but the work falls mostly on deaf ears because the game itself doesn’t focus on the troubling part of the cultural phenomenon (namely, the mistreatment of animals in processing plants).

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Moving on, “intimate” documentaries are an intriguing branch of the genre that we really don’t see converted into the newsgame medium. Art video games such as Jason Rohrer’s Gravitation and Passage seem to share a lot in common with the experimental home movies of Stan Brakhage, but this kind of document doesn’t really count as news. I’m talking more about games that would relate one person’s own point-of-view on a current or historical news story. If you’re my age, then you hear all the time about our parents were doing when they heard about Kennedy’s assassination or the Armstrong’s first steps on the moon. Lots of films dealing with the period call upon these nostalgic moments, so it’d be exciting to play a game that simulates the feeling of anxiety or wonder at watching these events unfold.

Ross McElwee makes some of my favorite intimate documentaries, and he deals with many issues that would fit comfortably within “serious” gaming: love, death, religion. His Sherman’s March starts off as an exploration of the historical event and quickly spirals off into his own march through legions of “eligible” Southern bachelorettes. It might seem like I’m harping for more first-person perspectives in newsgames, but it seems like the metaphor used in McElwee films is an entertaining and accessible way to approach historical and current issues. One game called Medieval Unreality, a collection of personal reflections on blood feuds in Albania created as an Unreal mod, replicates this model (in a necessarily less humorous way than McElwee). What we have here is a violent FPS being turned into a non-violent, collaborative meditation on loss and reconciliation – accomplished through metaphor and evocative imagery.

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Next, some documentaries seek to muddy the waters of truth and falsity about a news event. The Thin Blue Line and Capturing the Friedmans are some good examples of this. The latter reminds me of a nightmarish nonfiction version of Kurosawa’s Rashomon, where each new firsthand account of a supposed mass molestation brings the viewer further and further away from understanding the “facts” of what happened. A game like Kuma’s John Kerry’s Silver Star Mission could have accomplished something like this. The company claims that their game will “present the player with the facts needed to decide what happened” the day Kerry supposedly ran a swiftboat nose-first into an embattled beach and shot a fleeing Viet Cong at great personal risk. In the middle of Kerry’s presidential race, conflicting perspectives on what exactly occurred during that mission arose and brought into question whether or not he deserved his Silver Star. Instead of showing both accepted and dissenting versions of the events, the game simply regurgitates Kerry’s own story.

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Another example, closest to the goal of The Thin Blue Line, is the JFK Reloaded game that seeks to show how hard it would have been to make the Oswald’s killing shot from the depository. This was to be the world’s first “mass-participation forensic construction” of a historical crime, and a contest was held to see who could get closest to matching the conditions claimed in the Warren Commission. Ian’s written before about the shaky ground on which video “evidence” stands in court cases and the rising acceptance of simulations in courtrooms, and I’ve also read a bit about the Innocence Project that seeks to get convicts off of death row by exposing flaws in their legal proceedings. Newsgames dealing with such contested court cases seem to be an obvious direction for such simulations to develop.

Finally, many newsgames seem to follow the “Michael Moore” style of wildly biased “documentary” work. Moore’s early work on Roger and Me and The Big One cast the director as a crusader for the underdog on a highly personal quest. For a few years, it was touching to see him approach the business leaders he criticized with pleas for their participation in the work. Since Bowling for Columbine, these pleas have struck a discordant tone with more and more viewers – raising such questions as, “is a senile old bat like Charlton Heston really the bad guy here?”

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I personally think that September 12th makes its argument against “tactical bombing” pretty well, but that might only be because I already agree with its premise. Someone trained in counterterrorism or ballistics might have good reason to disagree with this premise – namely, it’s blatantly reductionist and it doesn’t propose an alternative solution to the war on terror. Some of Molleindustria’s work can also be seen in this light. See my post on their McDonald‘s game and how it ignores some verification work that might otherwise strengthen its model. These games are most similar to Moore’s Sicko and Fahrenheit 9/11: we know what they’re arguing against – and they do it well – but whether we agree with them in the end is usually reliant on the opinions we enter into playing/watching them with.

These Moore documentaries, and the newsgames I’m comparing them, work because their bias is transparent. Moore’s habit to skew the order of certain timelines in his films aside, everybody knows what they’re getting into when they pay ten dollars for a ticket. As long as the makers of these newsgames don’t actively seek to decieve their players, then I can’t see anyone mounting a strong opposition to them based on bias. Newsgames aren’t satisfied with presenting facts. Unlike traditional print and TV news, they task themselves with persuading players to see an issue their way. It might be necessary to take a more nuanced or balanced approach – presenting both sides of a contentious subject matter and letting the player decide which is more plausible – before we see these games make any converts.

Follow Up: Against Escapism

Posted in Columns, Newsgames, Schoolwork by Simon Ferrari on January 16, 2009
My last post on how video games weren’t necessarily escapist (and the subject I initially set out to address: how they also might fit Chomsky’s propaganda model) raised quite a few objections, so I’d like to see if I can clarify my meaning on a few of those points. By the end, I’ll try to segue back onto the subject of newsgames and how they relate to this issue.

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On the subject of escapism. This is where I got myself into the most trouble. I failed both to understand how important the notion of escape is to many gamers and to clarify the exact type of escape I was addressing. I admit that many people play video games not to avoid thinking about the war on terror and the economic recession, but rather to avoid thinking about their jobs, relationships, and other more direct troubles. This comment from the last post that calls me to task most effectively:

My argument is that the very games that support the possibility of a noteworthy gaming industry are the ones that support escapism. [...] This isn’t the escapism of the great depression, and nothing can quite be that, so to use the term in a modern context it *has* to be adapted to modern sensibilities. Otherwise you’re just saying the 1930s are over and little else. [...] I don’t believe that the reasons people need an escape have stayed the same, since I think we an agree that it’s a cultural phenomenon, and our culture has changed.

What I’d like to point out is that alongside the Great Depression, people in the 30′s also had to deal with the same day-to-day problems that we still do – only to a perhaps heightened degree thanks to the partial-shattering of public spaces by recent information technology. If we’re going online and into video games to find interpersonal engagements, then I think this is an attempt to recreate these lost public spaces rather than to escape from their destruction.

Back on topic: the historical assumption – which might of course be a false one – is that people latched onto musicals and screwball comedy not to escape common woes such as having a belligerent boss or a nagging spouse, but specifically the larger social woes of economic depression and social stratification. I am unsure of the degree to which this is true, but I’m betting that a lot more people who play games are regularly worried about the economy and foreign policy than they are willing to admit on Internet gaming forums. Video games would be a likely place to go to avoid having to think about such issues. My assertion is that many video games deny players – at least players who pay attention to the story – a complete escape from these worries.

Many gamers and non-gamers are familiar with the Grand Theft Auto series, so it’s fertile ground for drawing points. This series has dealt with gang violence, drug use and distribution, poverty, immigration, and ethnic minority issues to a much greater degree than any other game franchise. Here’s one example: Ian has talked about the tacit argument that San Andreas makes about the food choices that many underprivileged Americans have in their neighborhoods – it inspired him to make his own game, Fat World, about the politics of nutrition. What this shows is that we can find connections to the real world even in a game featuring the primary mechanics of shooting guns and stealing cars. Whether or not one realizes it while they’re playing the game is a different issue – but it’s likely that these ideas do enter into our subconscious thoughts while we’re playing only to resurface later on (McGonigal’s idea of an “experience grenade”).

Whether you agree with his design criticism or not, Richard Bartle’s recent unexpected controversy over a torture quest in WotLK is proof towards my assertion. See, when people thought about the issue long enough to argue with Bartle they revealed the fact that they’d been thinking about the game and its moral implications all along (they were just choosing to ignore them in most cases). Users brought up examples of genocide, poisoning, animal cruelty, racism, and other questionable practices in WoW quests. Whether or not they thought the moral implications of these quests were serious enough to forego some easy experience points is irrelevant. People aren’t escaping from such real world issues by playing games, they’re dealing with them in highly structured ludic encounters because it’s a fun way to feel potency over realistically insurmountable problems.

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On the subject of catharsis. I guess people have quite a few different ideas on what catharsis actually is. This isn’t surprising, because our historical literary source for the word doesn’t do much to clarify its meaning. Despite whatever changes in definition the word may have experienced (most people seem to reduce it to meaning any sort of “release”), I refer specifically to its original use in Aristotle’s Poetics (and later, Politics): a purification of two emotions, fear and anxiety. Brenda Laurel (one of my favorite video game writers) has applied the Poetics to computing, but I haven’t read this book yet myself. I’m not convinced at the moment that the dramatic structure of a game is much like that of a Greek tragedy; however, I do think that Aristotle’s catharsis has some relevance to the issue of games and escapism.

I hold that escapism and Aristotelian catharsis are mutually exclusive. This comment from the last post encapsulates the counter-argument to my position:

You seem to draw a distinction between escapism and catharsis as they relate to art/media, and it is this distinction that I call into question. Is not the cathartic value of video games that which we use to escape from life’s ills? [...] I would even argue that, because of the control they offer a player, many video games are even better methods of escapism than the glitzy movies and Broadway plays you reference. What better way to escape than to completely transport your conscious into that of a digital avatar, fighting the ills of modern life in a way only possible by way of video game?

Aristotle valued tragedy over comedy (any play with a happy ending, not necessarily funny) because it forced viewers to come to terms with their own beliefs, character flaws, and mortality. The Oedipus cycle is the prime example of such work: we’re forced to watch a good person and his family suffer for sins outside their own control. What I’m getting at here is this: taking control of a digital avatar in order to fight the ills of modern life is the opposite of escapism. A game confronts you with a problem, you can usually relate this problem to one you’ve observed in daily life or the news, and then you deal with it. The agency that games grant us in these simulated alternate versions of warzones and economically depressed neighborhoods is a way of “purifying” (catharsizing?) our fear and guilt over these situations.

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On the subject of the propaganda model. I definitely made a grave misstep when I mentioned the effects of modern shooters on the “tender” minds of young players. It wasn’t my intent to fall into the category of the anti-gaming scaremonger talking about the negative effects of games on children. One commenter that agreed with me based on perceiving my comments in this light wrote:

The fact is, most war games promote war… (as do many films, though many war films are also anti-war). Whether the hostiles are Mexican or Russian is useful to a point, but the greater issue is war begets war.

I don’t find this to be true at all. I’m staunchly anti-war and anti-violence; I’ve been playing violent video games since I was 4 years old, and I still don’t think violence solves real world problems. On the other hand, I think the idea of trying to remove violence as a primary mechanic in most mainstream games is misguided – at the least, it’s a bit hasty considering how long it took popular TV and film producers to realize that conflict wasn’t essential to plot progression. One of my professors, Celia Pearce, has a lovely anecdote that she shares whenever a “concerned adult” asks her about the psychological effects of violence in games: almost all mammals playfight, and they understand the difference between it and real violence. Surely your clever little children are at least as smart as puppy dogs and kitty cats?

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Chomsky’s propaganda model isn’t about dark government agencies embedding mind control into your media, it’s about subtly controlling public opinion through the exclusion of some stories and facts. If there are no AAA titles dealing explicitly with the war in Iraq, all this means is that the industry is missing out on a great opportunity to be the prime medium through which young Americans interact with the news. Instead of rehashing my half-formed ideas about the shortcomings of the mainstream gaming industry, I’d like to finally bring the subject back to newsgames.

The majority of newsgames, in that they don’t rely on corporate funding for their development, completely avoid the danger of falling into the propaganda model. In their unflinching goal of simulating experiences relevant to public issues, they avoid the pitfall of being labelled escapist and trivial by non-gamers. Even though I think its possible to recast mainstream gameplay as engaging real issues through metaphor or displacement, there’s still the fact that many players probably enter into them explicitly for escape. This is why newsgames have struggled to gain a popular following, I think: because one doesn’t start playing one of them as a means to cool off or forget about what’s happening outside.

People don’t avoid playing newsgames because they’re boring – quite the contrary, most of them build off of tried-and-true “fun” game mechanics and utilize the stylish Flash animation that has defined the most recent generation of TV cartoons. Rather, I suspect that they avoid them because they’re afraid of purposefully mixing their pleasure with intellectual engagement. I’ve struggled to show how mainstream video games might not be escapist, because I’d like to help break down the wall between the act of playing a shooter and the act of playing a newsgame.

Newsgames in the Pipe

Posted in Columns, Newsgames, Schoolwork by Simon Ferrari on December 11, 2008

(upcoming post for http://jag.lcc.gatech.edu/blog/ – please email me if you want to link this, because I need to post it to the JAG blog before that happens)

Every once in awhile, I struggle with the idea of the breaking newsgame. How could a newspaper, or an independent game developer, possibly make a game on the fly that was both “worth playing” and directly relevant to the news of the day? The makers of newsgames have, for the most part, freed themselves from worrying about this problem by dealing mainly with ongoing, long-term public issues; however, I constantly have the nagging feeling that these games need to become quite a bit more timely before being attractive as a regular feature for a news source. Let me share the story of a recent flurry of ideas exchanged on this subject.

6a00c22522e470549d00d4144918623c7f-500pi.pngWe recently had a demo day here at Georgia Tech. Sitting in the corner of the room at our News Games booth, I watched (with a twinge of jealousy) Raph Koster and some dudes from the EVE Online team celebrate the accomplishments of some of my classmates on a board game they’d been working on all semester. None of the famous folks were coming up to ask me about my thoughts on the crossroads of news and gaming. Maybe this just isn’t something that has a direct impact on their work? Just when I thought I wasn’t going to be having any good conversations that day, a middle-aged man shuffled toward me and asked, in a British accent, if I had anything interesting to show him. It took me a few moments to spy his name tag.

This was Richard Bartle: one of the early online gaming movers and shakers, and architect of my ten long years of MUDding (I played Gemstone and Mihaly’s Achaea). This man was a personal hero of mine, sure, but did the old Wizard have any tricks up his sleeve when it came to thinking about newsgames? As it turns out, he did. It also turns out that he was only talking with me for so long to avoid the pesky necessity of leveling his warlock up to 80 in WotLK (joking). Perhaps all the little esoteric niches within the critical gaming community were closer together than I’d previously thought. After some polite conversation on the nature of our research, I shared with Bartle some of the roadblocks we’d been coming to. On the subject of the absence of the breaking newsgame, he had this to say:

“Well, we all know the Queen is going to die someday. So we could make a game about it today, and release it when she does.”

This seems like such an obvious partial answer to the  problem – one which Ian hints that he already might have been thinking of – but it’s one that we really hadn’t talked about in discussions of the topic before. At first I thought making such “predictive” games might somehow violate journalistic integrity; however, it turns out that this would fall squarely within the practices of most news outlets. There are a few different manifestations of this. First is the article on something one knows is going to happen once. Obituaries for famous people are commonly written long before their actual deaths, and they are constantly updated as these people continue to survive and add to their accomplishments. The second case is when one knows that a decision or outcome will fall in only a small number of ways. One such example of this is the tradition of pre-making two headlines for the two possible resolutions to a presidential race. And then there’s the pre-making of material for events that are known to occur cyclically: weather, economic activity, politics, etc.
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When we start looking for examples of games that might fit this predictive mold, we run into some initial hiccups. Take, for example, the “obituary games” dealing with Steve Irwin’s death by stingray. How could one possibly have predicted that he would die this way, let alone made a game about it beforehand? This isn’t as big of a hitch as one might initially think. You simply have to choose which information you can be most sure about. For example, Paul Newman was pretty old when he died. You wouldn’t have had to predict exactly what he would die of to be able to make a great video game where an old man surrounded by salad dressing bottles fantasizes about his early days as a cowboy or Cool Hand Luke. In the case of Steve Irwin, it was likely that he’d die playing with dangerous aquatic animals. Despite being unable to know which animal would manage to penetrate his catlike reflexes, one would still be able to create most of the underwater gameplay mechanics, placeholder art, and sound bytes before the actual event occurred.

For the second case, that of pre-making a news story that will assuredly break in one of only a few possible directions, I’d like to take a look at some of the media surrounding Obama’s recent election. When it comes to biting, timely satire on a public issue, nobody can really hold a flame to Comedy Central’s Daily Show and South Park. The night after polls closed South Park aired an episode (click on “About Last Night…”) wherein Obama wins the election, liberals get drunk and riot in the street to celebrate, and conservatives fear for the end of the republic while locking themselves away in a fallout shelter. Now, it’s possible that Parker and Stone have such an ace team on their hands that they were able to make this episode in one night’s time. But it’s more likely that they’d pre-written the shows for either decision (and had of course already prepped the art for both).

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To my knowledge, there weren’t any games that addressed the public hype over this event – probably because we were all celebrating or cursing the event in “real” life. But that’s not to say that such games wouldn’t be enjoyable and interesting to experience. We’ve talked a lot about how great it would have been if the CNN “holograms” on election night had simulated for viewers the experience of being in Grant Park that night. It wouldn’t have been too much of a stretch for somebody in Second Life or There.com to have recreated this space inside a virtual world for people to experience in real time (please drop a comment if this was actually done in some way). Of course, it is an incredible asset for virtual worlds that they can play host to post-election celebrations and grumbling drunken escapes in ways that the South Park episode did. Doug Wilson is planning a series of posts on our explorations into the world of Kuma Games and their re-creation of current and historical war zones. They do some decent work toward trying to allow players to “take part” in actual military encounters (like the capturing of Saddam’s sons, for instance). It wouldn’t be too much of a stretch for such a company to make the kind of predictive leaps in game development that I’m talking about here.

Finally we come to the idea of games about cyclical events. Doug is also planning a post on hurricane and meteor-strike calculator “games.” Such simulators, which allow users to input various sorts of data about the size and location of storms or extraterrestrial objects in order to see the amount of havoc they might wreak, could easily be expanded into games about actual events. We’ve played some games that retrospectively look back at the events in New Orleans during Katrina, but there’s no reason that such games couldn’t have been made on a “breaking news” deadline: “Try to rescue survivors from rooftops… but beware, some of them will shoot at your helicopter as you attempt a descent!” On the subject of the cyclical nature of the economy, we have the fact that most everyone knew we were headed into a recession many months (or years) before feds actually announced that we’d officially landed in one. Newsgames about the recession and its impact on various sectors of the corporate and public world could have easily been pre-made for this event.
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Now, it’s one thing to come up with the stories and core mechanics for games such as these before the event strikes, and it’s another thing to have the art and assets ready and up-to-date when the final details are reported. Bartle also addressed the subject of content creation for breaking newsgames. Advocating a Farmer & Morningstar-style approach (introduced in their Lessons from Lucasfilm’s Habitat), he asserted the fact that the core game mechanics should be separated from the graphical content should there be a technological leap in the latter before the predictive breaking newsgame can be published. He entertained my idea of multiple news sources outsourcing the work of creating newsgames to an independent company supplying the lot. This is probably the only conceivable way that a newsgame developer would have the fiscal security and size to hire the amount of people required to make games on a regular or breaking news schedule. If the people who pioneered info-visualization in newspapers and their websites (Alberto Cairo is our preferred source of information on the subject) could figure out a working model for their work, then there’s probably a solution to this problem out there in somebody’s head as well. What I’ve written here is only a tentative first step in that direction.

We wrapped up the conversation by talking about (non-video game) journalists and their standing disdain for games as trivial. Bartle seemed to think that this was the largest obstacle toward making games a common sight on news websites. We can only hope that more journalists will pick up on the potential for video games to address serious or personal issues, following the odd example of the BusinessWeek Arcade that Ian posted about. One disconnect here might be the fact that a reporter has to work on strenuous daily deadlines and sometimes pull all-nighters to bring a story to print, while most makers of newsgames have no such deadlines and can therefore be seen as pronouncing judgment from a temporally distant Ivory Tower. Perhaps the availability of breaking newsgames might interest or satisfy journalists in a way that current such games do not.

EDIT: Richard wanted me to know that he thought it was funny that I’d described him as a “shuffling, middle-aged” gentleman. I wanted to note that I would never describe the man as “shuffling” in general. He’s as regal as they come. If he denies that fact that he’s quite a bit older than I am, then I will also go along with him on this point. The man is damn sprightly.

Molleindustria’s McDonald’s Game

Posted in Game Analysis, Newsgames, Schoolwork by Simon Ferrari on December 11, 2008

(upcoming post for http://jag.lcc.gatech.edu/blog/ – please email me if you want to link this, because I need to publish it on the JAG blog and redirect traffic to that site before you do so)

Sitting in McDonald’s on the morning following a night where I stayed up until 2:00am playing Molleindustria’s McDonald’s game instead of sleeping because I’d been too drunk and angry from a bad football game to sleep, I was more angry at McDonald’s for switching out their breakfast menu at 11:00 am­ than for corrupting my youth. Something that Molleindustria never mentions is the fact that all McDos have free wireless internet. This is perhaps not worth noting if you live in a concret­e jungle or have enough money to pay for internet service at Starbucks, but in smaller towns McDo and Dairy Queen are some of the only places people can go to get free web access. I’ll take one more cheap shot here before getting serious: every time I stay in Europe for an extended period of time, I end up eating at McDo at least once a day. Why? Because McDonald’s will give me a free soda and infinite refills if I buy a sandwich and fries. If I went anywhere else, I could be paying upwards of four Euros for each such cup of fizzy goodness. Also, this is what McDonald’s looks like in Europe:

1240783744_d39be5d923.jpgAs you will see below, I don’t think Molleindustria’s McDo game is a bad game by any stretch. It does what it sets out to do remarkably well, and I wouldn’t go into such depth to analyze a game if I didn’t love it on some level. What I want to show is how a journalist working under a discipline of verification (getting the facts right) would see this game. My goal is to use the following observations to help teach potential future newsgame developers how to carry a tradition of verification into their ludic work – if being taken seriously by news journalists is even important to them (which it might not be, for understandable reasons).

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The game starts out calmly: you have to buy up plots of land in South America in order to grow soy and raise cattle. This quickly infringes on a nearby city and the rainforest, and eventually the player must deforest and despoil in order to maintain a steady profit. At the time of the game’s release this was an actual practice of McDonald’s and Kentucky Fried Chicken. Greenpeace and others raised so much fuss about it that in mid-2006 McDonalds agreed to cease Amazon deforestation for soy production. Off to a good start; we can see some change being enacted by the combined cultural influence efforts from Molleindustria and like-minded activist groups.

We can observe some mis-steps in the next section. Molleindustria here allows the player to manage a feed and slaughter factory for cows. The object is to grow the cows quickly and to incinerate them if they develop mad cow or become ill from poor feeding. Molleindustria ignores the fact that McDonald’s was one of the first large corporations to press for humane slaughter from their meat suppliers. Temple Grandin, an autistic savant working for McDonald’s whose passion was easing meat stock into the afterlife,

“designed this system herself. The cows walk into the plant single file, up a curved ramp–she says curves comfort cattle, it makes them think they’re going back home. Then, as they’re moseying along, the animals ease onto a conveyor (they don’t even seem to notice), a moving harness cradles their stomachs and ribs, and lifts them gently off the floor. Suddenly, a man presses a machine between the next cow’s eyes, there’s a pop, and a retractable bolt shoots into the steer’s brain; and the animal slumps, silently. Grandin says when she started these audits a few years ago; the workers who shoot the bolts were missing, a lot. In fact, federal inspectors cited this slaughterhouse for skinning animals that were still alive, although Excel executives disputed the charges. On this day, the slaughterhouse gets a perfect score.”

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Anyone who’s read a newspaper during a Mad Cow or Foot & Mouth Disease crisis knows that you kill an infected animal with a bolt gun and then quarantine the entire herd. McDonald’s has never been shown to have violated this procedure, so I don’t know why Molleindustria uses the charged “mad cow” to illustrate dealing with disease in a cattle factory. The problem with adding questionable materials to the animal feed is more complex, and it takes an understanding of meat trade between the EU and the US in the past six years to grasp completely (http://www.organicconsumers.org/Toxic/hormone_beef_europe.cfm).We can discount the “industrial waste” option as humor, I hope, because either it’s hyperbolic comic flair or a misinterpretation of the use of sewage sludge as “organic compost” on some American farms.

The criticism of rBGH use in this game is much more honest. This has been a contentious issue in American food production for awhile now, leading to the aforementioned ban on US beef in the EU. I have firsthand food retail experience on this matter, because only this year did Starbucks stop using milk tainted by rBGH. I had a male roommate who actually claimed that drinking too much milk as a child caused him to develop lactating breasts, but I suspect that his claim is half imagination and half XXY genetics. The problem here isn’t so much McDonald’s use of hormones in their cattle feed, but in the FDA’s staunch approval of its usage despite research done in the EU (remember that Molleindustria is an Italian company). I totally agree that this is adequate enough of a controversy to support its implementation in the game.

I think the McDonald’s store segment suffers simply from a lack of personal experience by the staff of Molleindustria in the workplace of fast food chains. This could even be another instance of the US/EU divide. Many states are “right to work” states. A retail manager can fire an employee for any reason (other than race, creed, etc). Because this has been passed in legislation, without being overturned at the national level, a worker’s rights organization has no recourse to protest this outside of lobbying government officials. For all the states that aren’t “right to work,” there’s the simple fact that if a manager sees an employee spitting in food (which is what they do in the McDo game) there’s no reason to fear rebuttal for firing said employee. The disgruntled employee is the one in trouble here, because he’ll probably never be able to get another corporate retail job (ie, the ones with health benefits for full-time employees) after being fired for food contamination. Also, the game mechanic of either chiding or rewarding an employee to make them more happy or productive, and only being able to do either of these actions once before firing an employee, doesn’t come anywhere close to constructing the actual practices used to influence workplace morale.

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The final segment is the most problematic for me, because doing my preliminary Internet research I couldn’t find a single substantiated claim that McDonald’s bribes health, environmental protection, or government officials. One McDonald’s executive did accept bribes from a Chinese cattle supplier in 2007, but this was a year after the game was made and isn’t what Molleindustria is talking about at all. The idea that bribing a health official would even make a dent in the already negative public opinion of McDo products is ludicrous. The same can be said for the effects of bribing a single government environmental protection enforcer (on the issue of deforestation, for instance). Unless one can verify that McDonald’s has bought the entire Environmental Protection Agency of this country or of a South American nation, then a journalistic game developer shouldn’t make game mechanics like this. The ad department that develops marketing strategies based on appealing to children or manipulating packaging to be reminiscent of the food pyramid are apt and effective by contrast. I think more emphasis should’ve been placed here than on the tenuous bribing scenario.

What’s the upshot of all this? Molleindustria’s work here is important, and its a brilliant model for pointed journalistic game criticism of particular companies in their manifold offenses. The problem is the uneven attention to verification and nuance in various game segments. I’m proposing a model based on Alberto Cairo’s abstraction practice in infovisualization work to deal with covering aspects of a game like the McDonald’s game when the verification work simply can’t be done. Let’s take a look at Ian Bogost’s Oil God game. Why can’t I criticize this game on the same grounds? Certainly one can’t verify that a deity is responsible for causing wars and disasters in oil-producing countries and their importers in order to drive up the price of a gallon of crude. But Bogost has abstracted where he can’t point fingers. Certainly this game plays off popular liberal opinion (and substantiated historical evidence) that the United States, through the CIA, has fomented civil war and supplied weapons to antagonistic nations in order to create opportunities for US companies to move into a disordered nation and grab up oil contracts. But Bogost doesn’t even go this far. He allows the player to explore the controversy without necessarily alienating staunch pro-American-business-and-government players.
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I think this is important when one desires to persuade a player than there might be a problem with the way, for instance, that the world economy works. The game allows for different levels of interpretive work in the player. Molleindustria’s McDonald’s game doesn’t, and it also stands on the questionable verification grounds that I mentioned throughout the article. So, by all means, form a game development company and do important work like Molleindustria at going after corrupt corporations. Or integrate a unit like this into your media holdings if you’re a news provider. But remember to keep the discipline of verification intact when you construct simulations like this game. And if you can’t verify something that you want to include in the game in order to deepen the controversy and visibility of the problem, practice a method of abstraction (as Bogost does) and allow interpretive depth to do the work for you.

In my post on choice in newsgames I note that I see Oiligarchy as a major step forward for Molleindustria, and I’m sure somebody will eventually write a proper analysis of that game on this blog.

Build-A-Newsgame Kits?

Posted in Columns, Newsgames, Schoolwork by Simon Ferrari on December 10, 2008
(early ideas on breaking newsgames for http://jag.lcc.gatech.edu/blog/)

We still haven’t decided here at JAG whether or not the idea of a breaking newsgame is possible. There are already many examples of public policy and news games of varying levels of quality, but the idea of being able to churn one out in a week or less in order to accompany a breaking story seems mind-boggling. One creator of the recent Truth Invaders 2008 presidential campaign game notes the difficulty of pumping out their relatively simplistic project on a two-and-a-half week timeline (look at the third comment down). Another issue we’ve been looking into is the rapidly expanding notion of the citizen journalist, and the question has been raised whether or not an analogue to the “professional” citizen journalist blog might be developed in the newsgame format. I’d like to suggest a way that citizen journalistic games and an expedited production schedule for breaking newsgames might be possible: the use of generic game creation software and game-specific level editors. It was jokingly asked in one of our project meetings whether a level made in LittleBigPlanet could be considered an “indie” newsgame. Yet within a few days of LBG’s release a few players had already created levels that required one to fly an airplane into the Twin Towers, as comically recounted by The Penny Arcade. Below I shall discuss the multiple programs available, their relative strengths and weaknesses, examples we already have of games made in this way, and the idea of journalistic originality in the context of these pre-packaged game creation tools.

Most level editors are only available if one owns the game they are derived from. When one builds a mod in Source or Unreal, the mod can be distributed for free to anyone who owns the game as well. This situation arose when game companies saw that they would make more money off of selling game discs to people interested in modding culture than they would from tracking down and suing their amateur content creators. In the case of Counter-Strike, based off of Half Life’s Source engine, Valve bought the intellectual property from the modders who created it. KumaGames, a company that makes both schlock fare (dinosaur hunter games) and vaguely politically relevant games that seek to immerse players in a news event (such as John Kerry Silver Star Mission), appears to use the Source engine for their games. The value of Kuma’s political games as educational tools is shaky, as Doug Wilson has written elsewhere, but the notion of dropping a player into a violent situation pulled from the news seems like a largely untapped reservoir for newsgaming if integrated with an emphasis on journalistic practice. The anti-violence game mod Velvet Strike comically alters Counter Strike so that players shoot spray paint instead of bullets. With a valid and apt context grafted on top of a “protest game” such as Velvet Strike, the idea of a citizen journalist game developer appears realizable.

Another popular base for modders are games made on the Unreal Engine. Albanian survivors of widespread “blood feuds” co-created Medieval Unreality with Lindart by modding and skinning Unreal Tournament. Lindart sat down with individuals involved in the blood feuds and helped them visualize their interior/psychological spaces inside the game. The model for citizen journalists to derive from this would be that of a modder interviewing people and then deriving an in-game version of their stories or perspectives. 9/11 Survivor, a game that places players in the shoes of someone trapped in an upper story of one of the WTC towers as the building collapses into flames around them, is also a UT 2003 mod. Doug Wilson is making a game about terrorism and paranoia (don’t want to spoil anything) using Unreal as well. Mods based on shooters have the strengths of being able to either immerse a player in a first- or third-person perspective within a dynamic 3d environment. Being able to skin spaces allow modders to alter pre-built structures to look and feel the way they want them to. A major weakness of basing newsgames off of shooters, as evidenced best by the KumaGames we’ve played, is that such games almost always carry shooting into the mod as the primary mode of interaction with the game space (there are notable exceptions).

If shooters and their game mechanic-related limitations aren’t one’s cup of tea, then RPGs are an obvious alternative. Their main strength would have to be the increased emphasis on dialogue between the player and NPCs. There are already many communities built around designing outfits and facial skins for characters in PC RPGs, allowing simple and deep NPC customization. Professor Nora Paul of the University of Minnesota has already created a newspaper reporting simulator, Disaster at Harperville, in the Neverwinter Nights level editor. The value of using older RPGs as the base for one’s work are that the decreased emphasis on graphics suits the mode of micro-development we’re looking at. The only obstacle is the fact that an isometric view implemented in older RPGs has obvious weaknesses in the area of optical immersion as compared to 3d shooting games. One could imagine building a newsgame in Oblivion’s level editor, but the amount of work that would go into lighting everything and making the textures look proper would far outweigh the benefits of the enhanced graphics at this point in time. The two most accessible amateur build-a-game kits are RPGMaker and RPG Sim Maker. The ultra-controversial Super Columbine Massacre RPG and its Virginia Tech shooting clone were both made using RPGMaker. This is obviously the most accessible method of building a game, because all it requires is time and the ability to drag objects around with a mouse. Another strength is that games made with these programs can be exported by the developer and then downloaded by people who don’t have the RPGMaker software (unlike most mods). They can also be sold, if finances are important to the citizen journalist/developer.

So we haven’t really made any progress into citing specific examples of how to make breaking newsgames; however, I think these examples show that a notion of the citizen journalist game developer is both viable and desirable. Discussion of journalistic independence and originality forthcoming.

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