The Joy of Role-Playing
Sketching out dungeon maps on graph paper, marveling at the trinkets or “feelies” in Infocom and Ultima games, vigilantly reading every manual and printed material in the box, and writing pages of quest notes. Whenever my girlfriend sees me meticulously doing any of these kinds of things I get the same befuddled smirk my parents gave me when I played games as a 10-year-old: only another nerd could truly appreciate this. Yet, these are exactly the kinds of things that draw me closer to games and give me a sense of intimacy that allows me to appreciate them not just as works of art, but as worlds.
Recently, Michael of the Brainy Gamer wrote a brilliant (yet terribly misunderstood) exploration of the phenomenology of keeping a scorecard at a baseball game. Sounds a little boring eh? You bet… until you understand the level of intimacy that he creates just by writing down a few numbers and thinking through the game. In this post I’ll try to do justice to just what Michael might have meant by the word “engagement” by talking a little bit about what people do when they “engage” themselves with a game. Before you read this, it’s critical to read Michael’s post first… because I’ll be referring to it throughout. Trust me, it’s worth it.
This is a short response to
Although I recognize that the readership here is international, I do owe some amount of recognition for Canadian writers, gamers, and fellow agent provocateurs. That being said, Carrington Vanston has continually impressed me with his 1 MHz Apple ][ podcast. I’m equally impressed by some of his writing on video games. Critical yet fair, the insights he has into video games always provide me with the kinds of creative inspiration necessary to think deeper about gaming.
Gamers are notoriously bad at dealing with loosely-termed ‘art games’. Myself included. With the recent releases of