The Following Phrases

I returned from London a few days ago where I was attending the Digital Games Research Association Conference. It was a nice time, meeting new folks and sampling the current state of “Game Studies.” I presented a paper on Diner Dash and casual games–spending most of my time engaged in a close reading of the narrative/visual representations of the game as they apply to gameplay. I was pleasantly surprised to hear an excellent video presentation by Shira Chess on Diner Dash that investigated many similar issues as the dissertation chapter I have been working on! It’s exciting to see that other people are researching time management games such as Diner Dash from a feminist perspective, and especially in terms of (some) time management games emerging as a genre particularly addressed to women. Shira did a fantastic job of analyzing the relationship between productivity and the breakdown of the boundaries between work & play, especially concerning differences in leisure time between men and women and the “emotional labor” which is subtly (but not so subtly!) ingrained within the gameplay of Diner Dash. Anyway, lots to think about after seeing her presentation. Although I haven’t read her paper (and thus the following is only extracted from seeing her presentation), it seemed that we were interested in a similar dynamic contained within Diner Dash–where positive and progressive elements in the gametext are intermixed with more suspect elements which draw on conventional (and stereotypical) notions of women’s labor. In my chapter I examine the production of desire for social change within the game while analyzing the simultaneous management of such desire, channeling it back into the status quo where the “social change” is seemingly diffused. Such a strategy, of course, follows other examinations of popular culture, for example, in Jameson’s “Reification and Utopia in Mass Culture” and then in the work of Tanya Modleski on romance novels, soap operas, etc.. In any event, I think the genre of time management games such as Diner Dash (and the unbelievable number of sequels and clones that game has helped generate) is an excellent source for analyzing the relationship between women and games. One benefit of discussing these games as an emergent women’s video game genre would be to focus on actual games that women like to play. As has been noted by some prominent feminist scholars of game studies, there seems to be a lack of textual and ethnographic analysis of games that women enjoy playing. Another benefit, I think, would be the ability to draw connections between these games and older genres such as television soap operas. There is a tendency in game studies–sometimes frustrating–to state that video games are completely different from film or television; or, to say that while there are similarities between the different media forms, game studies should be focused only on the differences (which are held up as the “most interesting” aspect of video games). While I agree that a focus on “medium specificity” can be fruitful and generative, I also think that we should not simply abandon an amazing amount of sophisticated work on media forms such as television and film. Of course, one must not simply and unreflectively port the older work into a new field, but ignoring the older work would be an unfortunate mistake. (Incidentally, this was a complaint in Richard Bartle’s keynote address where he expressed dismay that people working on virtual worlds and MMOs today were ignoring early research on the subject.) For example, in terms of Diner Dash and time management games, Tanya Modleski’s essay “The Rhythms of Reception: Daytime Television and Women’s Work” is a valuable resource for seeing how a previous televisual form (i.e. soap operas and game shows) coupled with the temporal form of women’s work within the home. Casual, time management games also enact a similar coupling in terms of the leisure time of many contemporary women; while soap operas address women in a particular spatial location (the home), casual games address individuals (especially women) in temporal locations. That is, casual games do not necessarily address people within particular spaces because they can be played in a variety of locations–at home, in the office, on the train or bus, in the park outside, etc.. Yet, the play of casual games is linked to the “temporal spaces” of fragmented leisure that are snatched from one’s busy day–thus fitting into the contemporary, temporal reality of many women. (Many studies have shown how women’s leisure time is more fragmented, harried, interrupted, etc. than men’s more uncontaminated leisure.) Anyway, my point being that this earlier work on soaps can help to illuminate the “Rhythms of Reception of Casual Games.” Here, media forms (video games, television, etc.) are conditioned by social forces; the structures of these forms are determined by larger economic/social forces which often extend forms of gendered domination. Unpacking both the gameplay and representational elements of time management games addressed to women will reveal how these games are navigating these social determinants.

My original intent in starting this blog was to provide a public place for thinking through my dissertation, for providing a salvage yard of sorts where I could place some of my current thoughts–odds and ends which might prove useful or not for the dissertation. Hopefully they will also be useful for others interested in thinking critically and theoretically about video games. I plan on posting more regularly in the future.

So, with that said, this first post about games arises from a recent re-reading of Espen Aarseth’s “Genre Trouble“  a key text in the ludologist vs. narratologist debates (as they have unfortunately become to be known). In particular the following quote spurred my thoughts:

Games are not “textual” or at least not primarily textual: where is the text in chess? We might say that the rules of chess constitute its “text,” but there is no recitation of the rules during gameplay, so that would reduce the textuality of chess to a subtextuality or a paratextuality. A central “text” does not exist — merely context. Any game consists of three aspects: (1) rules, (2) a material/semiotic system (a gameworld), and (3) gameplay (the events resulting from application of the rules to the gameworld). Of these three, the semiotic system is the most coincidental to the game. As the Danish theorist and game designer Jesper Juul has pointed out (Juul 2001b), games are eminently themeable: you can play chess with some rocks in the mud, or with pieces that look like the Simpson family rather than kings and queens. It would still be the same game. The “royal” theme of the traditional pieces is all but irrelevant to our understanding of chess. Likewise, the dimensions of Lara Croft’s body, already analyzed to death by film theorists, are irrelevant to me as a player, because a different-looking body would not make me play differently. When I play, I don’t even see her body, but see through it and past it.

Thus, game studies would ideally focus on the rules and gameplay–though the latter would seemingly require some analysis of representation or the “semiotic system” given that gameplay emerges within the relationship between gameworld and rules. Though the example of Lara Croft is immediately intriguing (and has caught the eye of many others) what leap into my mind upon this rereading was the dismissal of semiotics and the use of the chess example, given that Ferdinand Saussure (founder of semiology) uses practically the same chess example to illustrate his rationale concerning the inauguration of semiotics. Of course, Aarseth’s use of the word “semiotic” is really a codeword for narratives and visual representations which frame the game system within a gameworld; less a reference to actual semiotics (and Saussure for that matter), the word is intended to indicate a certain brand of theory – perhaps of the poststructuralist flavor – and practitioners of this theory who mindlessly port their training (developed through the study of literature or media such as film and television) to the field of game studies. (Incidentally, Aarseth explicitly denies the privileged usefulness of semiotics proper to the study of electronic texts in his book Cybertexts). Nevertheless, Aarseth’s choice to frame the other of game studies as semiotics is intriguing given that the methods of the ludologists to create a stable foundation for game studies share traits with Ferdinand Saussure’s attempt to ground the field of semiology. Indeed, Saussure claims that “language must, to put it correctly, be studied in itself; heretofore language has almost always been studied in connection with something else, from other viewpoints.” If one replaces “language” with “games” one arrives at Aarseth’s basic qualms concerning the state of game studies and the unreflective porting of theories derived from literature & film to games. But, let’s look at the chess examples Saussure uses.

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