Canned Goods

After having no luck finding an audio file of Men Without Hats’ Safety Dance, I did come across several amateur videos using it–the best one appropriating the BK King for a bit of finger-flicking fun. (My students are talking about icons and appropriation of them at the moment)

After a long week, it makes for a good, though juvenile, chuckle. Watchers be warned.

Last night Jim Gee had a student playing HALO. It was difficult for me to sit there, fighting the urge to grab the controller and take out Convenant troops. We discussed what made this game so engaging (for some). We talked about tension–right away you (the player) understands that you are Master Chief, brought out of cryo because you have to keep the ship’s data (and AI construct) safe from the enemy (think Luke Skywalker and R2D2 in A New Hope); you have only a few moments to get the sleep out of your eyes, as the enemy is literally breaking down the door to get at you (think Leia on the ship, putting the Death Star data in R2). You have a purpose, and everyone is depending on you. So here we have a compelling narrative that places the player in the role of the protagonist (again, think Luke Skywalker–who wouldn’t want to be a Jedi?).

This game is a completely different experience than playing WoW. First, WoW is third person–I never feel like I’m actually the avatar on the screen. And I know I’m not there to save the world/galaxy/universe. Second, WoW forces collaboration to happen between players (in Star Wars speak–Luke would never have gone to Cloud City without a healer, hunter, and off-tank), and I find this frustrating for many reasons. And third, WoW doesn’t come with a narrative, a story-line that drives the gameplay. Although every player can go from level 1 to 60, essentially, the narrative for each player (the avatar’s “life”) is different, if you want to call this a narrative.

But what does all this mean in terms of learning (my oft asked question this semester)? First, we realized that not all players enjoy HALO-like experiences. Gameplay styles may be associated with learning styles, so it may not be possible to design an edu-game that engages all students. Second, I can see how embodying a character thru 1st-person and thrown into a tense situation would compell students. Instead of Master Chief, perhaps Dustin Hoffman in Outbreak or Sphere. (Not knowing a great deal about edu-games, there are probably many that do this–but well?) Third, we discussed how allowing students to work at their own pace (for example, you can hang out in the safe area of HALO until you have mastered the controls for movement).

School doesn’t seem to allow for this–the content drives the narrative of school. I see this in my syllabi each semester. But, then, this seems problematic in the current educational model; could a 7th grader struggling with algebra (or writing, for that matter) stay in that algebra class until they get it? I don’t see a 12th grader in 7th grade algebra simply because of the stigma attached. Heck, putting myself in that situation I might take the C or D just to move on to the next class and possibly cheat to do it. Reminds me of 7th grade Spanish, actually. Never liked it or “got” it, so I made little cheat sheets for vocabulary; I wasn’t very good at cheating (always thought Mrs. Rutan was looking at me), so I only got Cs and Ds. Seems that intrinsic motivation was at work here. So everything gets really complex. Giving me more time in Spanish wouldn’t have worked for me, but a videogame where I had to learn Spanish to accomplish a compelling goal might have.

Again, I’m struggling with how I can bring the learning pricinples that games demostrate into the writing class–a compelling, immersive rhetorical situation and role, for one. We know that writing for a grade or the teacher or learning how to find sources isn’t good enough.

I have to log my experiences more often for Jim Gee’s Video games and Learning course; I haven’t been keeping up with it. Anyway, when I played the first time I often took whatever money I had and bought upgrades for my gear (armor, weapons); as a result, I was always poor. But I’ve learned to work hard and save my money (seomthing translatable into real life). This time I’ve taken to collecting resources (leather and herbs) to sell in the auction house, while never buying any upgraded gear for my self. Part of this come from a bit of boredom. Much of the early game involves getting quests that can be completed solo for money, items, and experience points, but this is what I did the first time, and I really didn’t feel like going thru this process again. Also, there are quests and places you can go in groups, but on the server I’m playing, which is full, there isn’t much collaboration going on. I’m not sure if this is an unbalance in the player population (horde vs alliance) or the area I’m in, but I rarely hear calls for groups.

Well, I’ve taken to occasionally popping on for a half-hour or so to collect herbs, head back to the auction house and post them. I’m making a nice profit that is way more than I would receive while doing a quest, although I’m gaining experience points more slowly. Yet, this isn’t a problem; I’m actually interested in seeing how long it will take me to hit 100 gold (the cost of a mount that you can buy at level 40)–something I didn’t do until level 43 with my hunter because I didn’t have anywhere near the cash, and, then, I still had to grind out gold killing monsters and selling their drops for about 6-8 gold per hour (I needed 75 gold; you do the math).

I already have 25 gold based on my gather/sell/save economic model. If only life were this simple. But what I’ve learned, and what other players may be learning, is a lesson about what happens when you save your money for something you really want (in this case, a mount) instead of making impulse purchases. Although my mother always gave me this advice, I would say learning this lesson in the game (in a risk free environment, to boot) is situated, experiential learning in action and was more effective than getting a lecture; it was conrete.

I’ve been playing video games since the Atari 2600, and recently I feel like the romance has been lost for me. It’s kind of like my experience with figuring out that if I follwed a formula I could get an A on all my papers. Before that I saw writing as, well, magical. So maybe my troubles with becoming immersed in the worlds of and roles in video games is similar and tied to studying games. The curtain has been pulled aside and revealed the old man at the controls.

However, I’ve realized that my feelings are different with different types of games. In WoW, I’ve never really felt like a Night Elf Hunter or a Undead Rogue. I’ve felt like it was me playing going through the motions of these roles–though never feeling I was the role. Maybe part of this is the 3rd person pov of WoW; seeing my character all the time, from a god-like perspective, may have distanced me from the role I should be playing. (Or maybe I need to try harder.)

Contrarily, when I play a 1st person shooter such as HALO I feel as though I am Master Chief–perhaps because I’m seeing the world through his eyes (and faceshield). This may be why there were so many complaints about HALO 2; players took on the role of Master Chief, again, but they also played as a Covenant Elite (the enemy in both games). The switching back and forth seems to have given gamers an identity crisis, leaving them to wonder: Who am I?

This issue becomes more complex and interesting when thinking about my experiences playing rpgs where I control 1-6 characters at a time. And more extreme than that, Homeworld, a RTS game where players control a fleet of ships. I curiously felt more emotionally invested in my Hiigarans (Homeworld) than my WoW Rogue.

For me, my feelings tell me that becoming an Other isn’t a simple process, and I see each of my gaming experiences as I would roles in real-life (RL). When I was working on fishing boat in Alaska, I was a fisherman. When I was in the Army, I was a soldier. And as I’m in graduate school, I am a teacher and student. But when it comes to my students in FYC I feel this itch that I haven’t been able to scratch–who are they supposed to be when writing? What roles should they be playing to give meaning to what they do? Is playing a role in FYC even necessary for students?