Since returning from Boston, things at home have been dicey, at least as far as my connection to the Internet is concerned. This has made quite a few things problematic. I’m still trying to get all of that resolved, while getting rest and trying to minimize the amount of stress I’m inflicting on myself. I’m only being partially successful.
Hopefully things will return to normal by next week. I will try to get this week’s Friday 500 up on time. I don’t like letting things lag behind, not even something as ultimately inconsequential as this blog.
It’s been two years since I started attending Penny Arcade Expos. A year ago, I began working as an Enforcer for said events. It’s not a ton of experience, but it’s built on top of all I’ve done before. In light of that, I have to say this PAX East was the smoothest one yet, and one of the best convention experiences I’ve had in a long time.
In previous years, I’ve gauged the success or lack thereof in the experience on what I get to see, do, or play. I’ve had to readjust those priorities. Conventions and gatherings of the like-minded are awesome in and of themselves, and working as part of the staff for such a thing means having a hand in making that experience more awesome for other people. It isn’t easy, and it isn’t for everyone. But it’s a big part of why I’ve chosen to do it multiple events in a row, now.
That said, I’ve met a ton of cool people doing this. Not just the people I’ve worked with, but the people who make it to the event. I have definitely arrived at a point where I am more excited to meet people than I am to see exhibits, at least when it comes to PAX. I can see that changing when more games arrive that grab my attention, but for this time around my focus was entirely on how things were running in my theatre.
I hope everybody that made it out had an excellent time! I have to keep this short since I have a number of things with which I need to get caught up.
I’m on my way to Boston for PAX East this morning. While I make my way through several states on what are certain to be lovely roads, have a look at my thoughts on the lines between video game developers and video game players, and what might happen if they get blurred.
I feel we are rapidly approaching what I’ve chosen to dub “the Video Game Singularity”. It’s the point at which the lines between developers and players of video games blurs to the degree that the storytelling experience these games convey is one truly shared between both camps. We’re on our way with RPGs with user mod tools like Skyrim, massively multiplayer experiences and yes, Choose-Your-Own-Adventure tales like the Mass Effect trilogy. Now, things like marketing departments, stratospheric fanatical expectations, and the limitations of current technology will hinder this advent, but it’s sooner than we think.
The Internet’s instant communication and dissemination of information is accelerating the process as we, as gamers, find and refine our voices. While we’ll never be able to excise every single idiot or douchebag from the community, we can minimize their impact while maximizing what matters: our investment in our entertainment. We are patrons, and video games are the art for which we pay.
Games are unquestionably art. Moreover, they a new form of art all their own, with their own traditions, their own classical periods, their own auteurs, their own mavericks. So I pose the question: why do we judge them as works of art extant in other forms when they clearly do not belong there?
Think about it. A movie critic, with little to no exposure to gaming in general, has no basis by which to judge the merits and flaws of BioShock or Killer7 in comparison to Kane and Lynch. By comparison, many gamers who only see a handful of movies may not recognize the reasons why film aficionados praise Citizen Kane or 2001: A Space Odyssey. The two mediums are completely different, and the biggest difference is in the controller held by the player.
From the moment we put our fingers on buttons, sticks, or mice at the start of a game, we have a measure of control over our experience. A well-designed game lets the player feel like they are truly a part of the world they’re being shown, that their choices will help shape the events to come. In a movie or a book, there’s no interaction between the observer and the observed. We experience the narrative the authors want us to experience regardless of whatever decisions we might have made differently. Video games, on the other hand, invite us to make our choices and experience the consequences for better or for worse.
Since players are a part of the building process for the narrative, it could be argued that they have just as much ownership of the story as the developers do. That isn’t to say they should get a cut of the game’s profits, as not everyone can render the iron sights of a gun or the glowing eyes of a dimensional horror-beast as well as a professional, who has to pay for things like training and food. A game done right, however, makes the player feel like a part of its world, and with that comes a certain feeling of entitlement.
That word’s been bandied about quite a bit lately, and to be honest I don’t think gamer entitlement is entirely a bad thing. The problem arises when gamers act like theirs is the only opinion that matters. Gaming is, at its best, a collaborative storytelling experience. Bad games shoulder players out of their narratives with non-interactive cutscenes or features that ruin immersion. Bad gamers scream their heads off whenever things don’t go exactly the way they expect in a given story. “This sucks and so do you” is not as helpful as “I think this sucks and here’s why.”
Not to belabor the point, but you can tell an author or director how much a book or movie sucks in your opinion, and the most you might get is a “I’m sorry you feel that way.” Game developers, however, know their medium is mutable. It can be changed. And if mistakes are made in the process of creating a game that slipped by them or weren’t obvious, they can go back and fix them. Now, the ending of a narrative is not the same as a major clipping issue, games crashing entirely, or an encounter being unreasonably difficult, and not every complaint from the player base is legitimate. And in some cases, the costs in time and money required to make changes to adjust a story even slightly can be entirely too prohibitive. But when there’s truth found in the midst of an outcry, some merit to be discerned from a cavalcade of bitching and moaning, game developers have power other creators of narrative simply don’t have.
The question is: should they exercise it?
Let me put it another way:
Should finished games be considered immutable things like films or novels, set in stone by their creators? Does listening to players and altering the experience after much debate ruin the artistic merit of a given game?
I think the answer to both questions is “no.”
Changing the ending of a novel or film because fans didn’t like it is one thing. Most directors and authors would cite artistic integrity in keeping their tales as they are. There are those who feel game developers should maintain the same standards. That doesn’t seem right to me, though. For one thing, a writer may change an ending if a test reader can cite issues with it, and a director can re-cut their film if focus groups find it difficult to watch without any benefit. Moreover, gaming is so different from every other art form, so involving of the end user of the content, that sooner or later a different set of standards should be observed.
As we approach the Video Game Singularity, it becomes more and more apparent that the old ways of judging those who create the stories we enjoy no longer apply. We are just as responsible for the stories being told through games as the developers are, and while games empower and encourage us to make decisions to alter the outcome, we must realize that our power in that regard is shared with the developers, and is not exclusively our own. By the same token, the onus of integrity does not solely fall on the developers. We, as participants in the story, must also hold ourselves to a standard, in providing constructive criticism, frank examination, and willingness to adapt or compromise when it comes to the narratives we come to love. Only by doing this can we blur that line between gamers and developers. Only by showing this desire to address these stories as living things in which we have a say and for the benefit of which we will work with their original creators will gamers stop coming across as spoiled brats and start to be considered a vital part of the game creation process.
We can stop being seen as mere end-user consumers, and start participating actively in the perpetuation of this art form. To me, that’s exciting and powerful.
I mean, we still have people using racist and homophobic language in the community, but hey, baby steps.
This site tends to get just under 100 views a day. Some days it’s lucky to hit 50. So in some ways, this may simply be preaching to the choir. I’m aware of this. But I also know that some of the people who read this are folks I don’t know personally, and may help spread the word to people who would otherwise be unaware of the following. So with that in mind, and simply wanting to promote positive behavior as much as possible, let’s talk about consent at conventions.
Convention season is in full swing. It’s great to meet people there. You may even be compelled to shake hands or even hug someone.
Make sure they’re cool with it first.
You may think it’s fun to give someone a ‘surprise hug’ but the fact of the matter is, there are a lot of people who have had bad experiences when it comes to being touched. An unexpected brush or contact can bring all sorts of unbidden memories and emotions roaring to the surface of the mind, and nobody wants that to happen. We gather in these placed to have fun together, not to hurt one another. It doesn’t take a lot – “May I shake your hand?” “Would you like a hug?” – but it will mean a world of difference to people if you act with courtesy and wait for consent.
This especially applies to cosplayers. A lot of people spend months preparing costumes to show off in large public places where people have shared interests. They do it for fun and to celebrate their fandoms. They, too, deserve the respect of being approached like a human being, rather than sized up like a piece of meat. If you catcall a cosplayer, or worse, impose yourself physically on one without your consent, you’re being part of the problem.
Remember: cosplayers are not wearing their costumes for you. They’re doing it for them, and they deserve to be proud of that without having to worry about getting creeped on by strangers.
Everybody needs contact, reassurance, even cuddles. There’s nothing wrong with any of that. As long as there is communication and consent, we can make our gatherings positive and memorable experiences. We have to work together to do it, and we have to look out for one another. That doesn’t just mean communication between the parties involved, but also communication with those that can help.
If you see something questionable, if someone’s getting hurt or being made to feel uncomfortable, tell someone. If you yourself are put in a position of which you do not approve, tell someone. Staff members are there to help you. There’s bound to be one disconnected from all of the goings on who will not only hear you out, but speak up on your behalf. Yes, there are bad experiences, and yes, sometimes things go sour even when you try to do the right thing.
What’s the alternative? Give up entirely?
If we all did that, if we all just gave up when things got frustrating or didn’t turn out the way we wanted, we’d get nowhere, and communities would crumble, all the good and positivity they create dissolving into nothingness and leaving this world a colder, more empty place. I think that dissent can be a good thing, and those who have a legitimate beef that goes unheard have the right to say what they have to say. My point is that, if we’re all working together, offering consent and speaking up for one another, it shouldn’t have to get to that point. Things can and will get better, but only if we all contribute towards making it so.
We all have to work together. One person, alone, can change very little, but again, that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try. Ghandi once said “If we could change ourselves, the tendencies in the world would also change. As a man changes his own nature, so does the attitude of the world change towards him. … We need not wait to see what others do.” The more we work to make the collective experience better for everyone involved, the greater our influence on the flow of events and the lives of others becomes. We can, and will, change both how our communities work, and how they are perceived by others. And believe it or not, it all hinges on asking one simple question.
Can I have a hug?
(Images courtesy The Mary Sue; featured Enforcers are RGB, Ysterath, oogmar, and NotHanz. Original images hosted by Auspex on her Tumblr. Many thanks to Uhura Jones for pointing out the shortcomings in the above post.)
