Male Body and Kratos is a Dick.

Susan Bordo's "Beauty (Re)Discovers the Male Body" was one of the most engaging, fascinating articles that I've read in awhile. Enough fan-girling.

Yes, that was a pun at the end there, but I think it's a decent segue. Men aren't supposed to lose control, they're not supposed to be weak or impressionable. Men are meant to make the decisions, to take action, and to dominate. However, Bordo shows that advertising for men has taken a turn. It's now becoming acceptable to be desired while still maintaining masculinity. I'm not exactly sure when her piece was written, but Bordo seems to have been viewing a turn in the culture of fashion and sexuality, albeit a more recent one. I'd have to say that the stigma's of men being "beautiful" and "objectified" is almost on the same level as women being subjected to the same thing, at least with an eye on today's media. I'll use the film "Magic Mike" as an example. The movie was built upon the idea of selling men through sex. It was a cast of famous, handsome actors, that also happened to be in great shape and shirtless throughout portions of the film (I'm speculating here). There has been movement, at least in terms of sexuality. Men are allowed to be viewed, to decorate themselves now, to be an idol rather than the viewer.

However, I don't necessarily think all gender roles and positioning in society have been wiped away. Take one of the more recent Doctor Pepper commercials, for Doctor Pepper 10. It's a pseudo action scene, in which a man shoots his way through an exploding forest, all while explaining how this "diet" soda isn't for women, because the great taste is completely manly, even though there's a focus on nutrition. Or even the now very famous Old Spice commercials, with the shirtless man who is seducing women watching the commercial. He ends up shirtless on a horse. He's confident, in shape, and asserts himself, explicitly telling female viewers to ignore their men, while at the same time suggesting to men that if they wear Old Spice body spray, they'll achieve the epitome of masculinity, presumably this man.

Even more than that, just take commercials for dinner products or grocery shopping. It's normally a woman that's doing the shopping, or setting the table, or slaving over the stove, while if a man is ever shown cooking, it's generally out back, on the grill, drinking a beer with a bunch of buddies. Then there's Vodka commercials, like Skyy Vodka, in which Amber Rose, a woman who is considered to have goddess like proportions, sells the product. Women drink Vodka, men drink beer. Or, as I'm going on this tangent, take the 1800 Tequila commercials, in which a man in a suit talks to the viewers about how he's tired of all the "emotional" men out there, getting all "done up" and acting feminine, and how they drink feminine drinks, while he drinks 1800, which is for men.

Then there's the question of race in terms of the masculine/feminine binary. It's acceptable for black men to wear "loud" clothing, to match their outfits to a tee, because they have "swag." White men have no "style." Yet, black men are also very rarely shown as dressing up in suits, going to the high class events, stepping out of a chauffeured cars. Black women are generally shown as having bigger butts and getting their hair done, take Nicki Minaj for example. Yet, white women are generally shown as wearing workplace outfits, power suits, or practical clothing. So not only does sex play a factor, race plays a factor into advertising as well.

Moving on to the EC take on God of War III, I'd have to say their take was valid. Look, I played all three games. I loved the first one, second one was somewhat forgettable, and the third was fun. I say fun tentatively. It wasn't fun in an engaging way, at least not intellectually or emotionally engaging. It was fun in how "epic" it was, how everything was so hyperbolic and ridiculous. The scale of the game was amazing. But that's all I took from it; it was a massive game, with massive amounts of violence and gore, and looking back, minimal amounts of story. Now the question that has been asked is if it's fair to be so harsh on a game for bad storytelling. My answer is a simple yes. Especially if gaming culture as a whole wants video games to be taken as an art form. The God of War trilogy was the perfect forum to express to critics that games could be a form of basic entertainment, while at the same time telling an epic story. I say this because of the gameplay, game scale, and the subject and form through which the game was telling a story. Greek tragedies are widely recognized and respected in literature, so what better way to show narrative through a game then to turn a new take on a respected narrative archetype. The first game delivered, but tragedies and epics are expansive, so God of War went to follow that path. Except without the story. It just brought Kratos along by the hand, and put bigger, bloodier places for him to show off his design. That is a disappointment, and we should demand better. We as consumers and players set the bar for what's acceptable, and we do so by shelling out money for an experience, a full one, not just a series of bloody mini games. So yes, I think it's fair to be so harsh, and I think story should play a bigger role, rather than just a testosterone driven killing spree.

Research for my paper

The one game that I found that will help me with my final project/paper is Madden, which seems really obvious considering I'm studying how roleplaying and social realism play a large part in what would otherwise be looked at as a generic, general audience sports game.

The first article I found to help me was by Sami Yenigun, entitled "How Madden NFL's Business Lineup Helps it Win Big." What is useful fromt his article is that it observes how Madden appeals to it's audience through it's use of constant updates and realism. The game builds upon the NFL logo and business by incorporating real player heights, stats, weights, and so on. What it then mentions is the fact that fans are immersed in this kind of stat explosion because it allows them the chance to have football year round. More than that, it's not just a passive form of football, it's a completely interactive, hands on form of football in which a fan can take part rather than watching from at home or in the stands. It also delves into how Madden and the NFL help each other through their constant advertisements, because if one succeeds, then through correlation, the other does too. They feed off each other, thereby bringing about the social realism aspect of the game.

The second article I found was by Alexander Galloway called "Social Realism in Gaming." The article focuses on how games mimic the real world, but perhaps not always through realistic-ness. The likeness and similarity through looks and aesthetics would be considered realistic-ness, while realism would be considered how closely the game can mimic actions and procedures that would take part in the non-virtual world, the example used was the Sims. In the Sims, the game characters and locations aren't necessarily realistic looking, being very pixelated and simply rendered, so to speak, but real life actions can be initiated, such as ordering a pizza, or sleeping. Then, there are games like  Socom, which looks very realistic, but, speaking in general again, most people don't take part in secret missions, killing terrorists and defusing bombs, so it's not based very strongly in realism. I want to use this to discuss how Madden can act as a "fantasy" game in a very broad sense, because, while player likeness is used, the fields are created to look like the real thing, and so on, the game itself is not based in a kind of "realism" because most people will not wake up every Sunday and go out to make a million dollars to play a game of football. That's where the roleplaying aspect I alluded to will be brought in.

The third article I found was "The Ideal Self at Play: The Appeal of Video Games That Let You Be All You Can Be" by Andrew K. Przybylski. This article is more straight forward than the others, as it studie the behavior and reasoning behind why people play video games, with a specification on the aspect of video games acting as a more ideal self. That's where Madden comes into play again. I assume, and this is my opinion, which I will need more evidence and support for, that most people play Madden because they have a fantasy of having made it to the NFL. There are very few people alive who will ever play professional football, but a game lets players act as their ideal self, the self that had the talent, time, and training, and made it to the largest of stages. More than that, it also allows a player to take on the role of their favorite team. Perhaps their team is terrible in real life, but in Madden, they can bring their favorite squad to success, to the pinnacle, thereby allowing them to influence more than just their ideal fantasy. 

 

Oiligarchy

My analysis of the game and postmortem are kind of strange, at least in my head. Here's why: I started out with the idea that the game would be teaching me a lesson about how the oil system works, how it's corrupt and somewhat ruthless, and how government plays a big roll on just how much power oil companies have. The postmortem more or less confirmed that line of thought. However, after playing the game and when reading the postmortem, I was struck by a thought: I never really considered the implications of my choices or actions while playing.

My analysis may be off topic or not really what it was meant to be, but I think I want to analyze it by observing myself in a sense. The game, as stated, was meant to show just how the wheels are greased in the oil industry structure, no pun intended. It did that, but not while I was playing, which is funny now that I consider that the article is called the Postmortem. While I was playing, the gamer in me came out. My goal was to maximise my profit, keep away all the locals or individuals who were against my agenda, get my political allies in power, monopolize wherever possible, and basically control the entire microcosm of the game. I did that for the most part. I ended up with the retirement ending, which I'll take over being fired or bringing on mutually assured destruction. I ended up losing my hold over the government and the world gradually shifted away from a dependence upon oil, finding new energy sources and becoming on the whole more economical. However, my choices leading up to this ending were anything but moral or decent. I had protestors killed in Nigeria. Yeah, it was awful, but at the time they were annoying the hell out of me. I released fake biochemical attacks on the American people, to scare them all into believing that the government was right in sending more troops overseas and elsewhere, even though the real reason was that I was being somewhat of a greedy bastard. I suppose I was a failure at being a supreme, ruthless genius because I never did get to move my oil fields into Alaska, but alas, you win some you lose some. I really enjoyed how the game followed the Hubbert Curve, in terms of gameplay, for my ending at least, and in terms of gameplay mechanics. Mechanics wise, my profit and expansion started very slowly. As my empire built, I moved into new areas. Slowly but surely, oil addiction went up (great phrasing on their part) and so did my profits. I hit a point where I was a powerhouse, with all the oil the world could need, raking in countless dollars while also ruling over the government, a shadow hand behind the president and the secret council.

Then came my fall. Now, depending on the ending, I'm going to assume that the fall can happen differently. Mine was very gradual, I didn't just lose all my power and wealth at once, it was a steady decline, and the world slowly worked it's way up, for the better. I think it was an interesting look into not only the politics of the current world, and a great gauge on possible outcomes, but also a look into a mirror, so to speak. When I feel I can "win" or "gain" I'll make any decision I can. Now, my decisions are negligent considering they had no actual real world impact, but I think the idea still stands, and it was an idea that was meant to be planted. It's easy to see where the corruption comes from, but it doesn't make it anymore acceptable, and now I have a glimpse at both sides of the debate.

Games and Culture Articles

What I took away from James Paul Gee's article, as far as notes go, were these:
Mind is like a machine, therefore, video games are now an accurate metaphor for the workings of the mind. Life acts much like video games in that both are action and goal directed simulations. Players will take on the characters goals as their own, while at the same time meshing their personal goals with the character goals. This leads to a melding of goals, leading a player to figure out the best way to achieve what the game has set out for them while also satisfying their own desires for going about the mission or level, etc. Much like games, people tend to simulate scenarios in their head, much like Gee's example of imagining a wedding. People tend to go through various scenarios, such as a happy wedding or a failed wedding, while also running through how certain people present will react to certain scenarios or conversations. Video games require players to do the same thing; how a character would go about accomplishing a goal, how the player would go about it, how the two can compromise, various outcomes to different courses of action, and so on. Actions determine meaning, like a glass being used to grab attention at a wedding or being used to have a drink. So, how a player uses the environment or items in a game also determine meaning, as shadows could be used for stealth to sneak by everyone, or they could be used as a spot to hide a body. Games and life interact in the sense that the real world offers the raw materials and scenarios for games, and games then determine a players actions in a simulation. A car comes from real life, but a game acts a simulation for a player who wants to jump it over 50 other cars, as a general example. As stated earlier, game surrogates have goals, and those goals become player goals. At the same time, player goals become surrogate goals. What I took from this is that it's a two way street of assumed identity. The player has to understand the motivations, thought processes, desires, fears, and strengths of the character, while the character has to be open to those very same things coming from the player, and when these two meet, then the best path or most desirable path to a goal becomes clear.


The other article I chose to read from "Games and Culture" was by Dmitri Williams, Tracy Kennedy, and Robert Moore, from the March 2011 issue, volume 6. It was an article entitled "Behind the Avatar: The Patterns, Practices, and Functions of Role Playing in MMO's." It was a study done to try and observe the demographic for role players, but also the social and psychological factors that go into role playing. The article started with two different theories: players used role playing as an escape to become someone they're not in the real world, or, that they used role playing to be their true self that was, perhaps, rejected by the majority or accepted groups of society. The article compared this practice to how adolescents and youths will try on different hats and masks to figure out some form of self identity. They will go through phases and different subgroups to figure out where they feel most comfortable, until patterns and habits start to form, leading them to a concrete idea of self. The other end was that adults might use MMO's and roleplaying as a safe harbor. Generally, adults already have a sense of being, a sense of identity, but, they may want an escape from this projected image. It's front stage versus backstage, where the person society sees may all be an act, whereas backstage, the mind may have a completely different persona as being true, and that persona can be acted out online, a safe haven so to speak. However, one area that was only mentioned in the article and no fully explored was how this safe harbor for identity might hinder the forming of actual relationships, in friendship or otherwise. There is a distance and gap when playing online games, so even if a player is being their true self, they are doing so because there is no immediate connection, there is a divide that they can hide behind, never having to truly commit if they do not wish to do so. The article then revealed some statistics from the study, finding that youths were actually less likely to roleplaying, perhaps because they are searching for "self" and therefore escaping from it or fully embracing it isn't fully possible. Role players in general make up a very small portion of the population, estimated around 5% in the study of 7000 participants. They also kept themselves distant from the general population of MMO players, preferring to keep to themselves and keep in a kind of bubble, an isolated world where their roleplaying would be fully immersing. Dedicated role players were also found to suffer more from loneliness, depression, addictions, or mental disorders than the average player.

Adventure Games Discussion

After watching Ron Gilbert and Tim Schafer discuss Adventure Games, I realized two things: one, I have never played an adventure game, and two they kind of made me want to try one.

Anyways, I digress. I tried to pick one topic they discussed to analyze and agree or disagree with, but they had a few pieces I really found interesting. One point they brought up was that adventure games may not have grown in popularity due to impatience in gamers today. I find myself agree with this point mainly because I'm part of that demographic they were referring to. Take the latest Uncharted game. I love it, everything about it. However, I've also found myself stuck at certain puzzles, and when I get stuck, I just sort of wait until the game reveals the correct way to solve it and I move on. I am unconsciously fixated with the action parts of the game, so much so that the "adventure" parts fall by the wayside. Take Call of Duty as an example. It is the highest selling game of all time (don't quote me on that). What is the most used feature in CoD? Multiplayer. Multiplayer for CoD was created for twitchy, adrenaline filled people. There's no real strategy, just constant maneuvering and trigger pulling. It's fast paced. I'm not being bitter here, I'm just connecting the dots logically. The most popular game in the world right now is fast paced, in all facets. Games are quick, killing is quick, scoring is quick. Everything is designed to fit a shorter attention span. That's not to say that gamers and people as a whole have lost touch with their patience or ability to focus, it's just that the society we live in has everyone processing information a lot more quickly. It's a natural progression for a service/entertainment industry to follow that trend, creating games that suit the consumers needs or wants. Not having played adventure games, I can't really attest to their speed or attention requirement, but going off of what Schafer and Gilbert said, I'd have to assume they take a little more time to fully grasp. That's not where the market is right now.

The other point that I'd like to discuss is their assertion that games don't have great or funny interactive dialogue anymore. I'd have to say I agree again. I'll use Uncharted as an example here again. Uncharted has quick, funny dialogue. However, it's not interactive. It's all during cutscenes or pre-rendered quips that characters are programmed to say at certain times. It has nothing to do with my response or actions towards them. Then I tried to think of the games that do have interactive dialogue, things like Skyrim, Knight of the Old Republic, Heavy Rain, Mass Effect; then I thought a little longer and realized that I can't recall any memorable moments of dialogue in any of those games. Was it poorly written? No, not by my standards at least. Was it exceptional, did it have that extra quality that made it stick out? No again. It seems like dialogue is now used as more of a means to an end. It's not really a focus anymore, and perhaps that goes back to the attention span argument above. People don't want to read a lot of dialogue, and generally no one cares about character conversations. Games are designed now to be beaten, and beaten within a reasonable time. Dialogue and talking take away from that. However, I find myself kind of upset by that notion. I've always loved dialogue, I am a creative writer, and so words and interactions mean a lot to me. If there is less of an emphasis placed on those things, then the game isn't necessarily an experience for me. It's just a way to waste some time, play online with friends. That can then be traced by to Ebert's argument about games not being art because they're not a completely enveloping experience for the people playing them. I want an experience though. I want to learn about characters and have a story unfold in front of me, or to allow me to unfold the story for myself. Maybe that's too much to ask right now, or maybe the gaming industry sees me as a minority. I just know that games need to bring depth and character back, and dialogue is a large part of that.

There's my two cents.

My Love for Authors

While I was reading "Death of the Author" by Roland Barthes, I was struck by three things: his theory and reminded me a lot of New Criticism, the second was that they also reminded me of Reader Response Theory, and the third was how much I disliked his whole paper.

I didn't dislike it because it was esoteric and somewhat difficult to understand. He had his target audience, those in the literary community, and he was merely proposing a train of thought to that community. I can respect that.

My dislike came from the fact that I'm an aspiring writer. I've never liked New Criticism because, much like Barthes suggested, the author doesn't matter. It's all about the words on the page, which I can completely respect. Really, when I stop being so self involved and take time to contemplate, an author only is the sum of his words on the page. And Barthes did make another great point; an author doesn't come into existence until his work comes into existence. I can see that, because as a writer I feel I should be defined by my work. He's also correct when he stated that readers decipher everything within a novel or book. Readers are not only the buyers of novels, they're also the definers of what a novel means, or what characters are important. I just like to get attention, so I'd rather be viewed as the genius that created the next great American novel, even though it's really the readers who would accomplish that too. Anyways, those are just my small, but significant points to make about the piece.

Now, as for relating it to video games, I feel bad even saying this because designers and creative directors are "artsy" types like myself, I have to say that I'll play Barthes servant boy and say that no, video games do not have authors. They have creators, just as books, and they construct stories, much like authors. However, just as with the writer or novelist, the game is only as important as the people playing it. Stories and characters in games only gain significance and meaning based on how an audience perceives them. In this line of thinking, I'd have to say video games come from "producers." Not necessarily in the factory line sense of the word, but game developers take traditional stories or genres, but their own twist on it, make it shiny, and pump it out to the world. In that sense, no, they are not authors, just as writers aren't authors. I say this because I agree with Barthes, writer and game developers just assemble pieces that have been around for a long time, and they put them together in a way they find interesting, then it's all up to the audience to give the game life, to make sure it's played. The work could have been made by anyone, and, broadly speaking, most games have already been created, just with a different name and engine.

As far as what criteria game makers have to meet to achieve authorship, I'd say there aren't any. Unless a company or designer were to create a completely unique story and experience, I'd say they're just publishers and assemblers. It makes me sad to even think about, but originality is dead, and perhaps it's always been dead, ever since the Hero's Journey. The only criteria I could think of is that they were to create everything new. I'm talking storyline, engine, gameplay mechanics, characters, objectives, the whole kit and kaboodle. Yes, it's cynical, but until it happens, game makers are just imitators, as well as authors.

I'm sorry to say, but for now, the only group or persons that matter in a creative endeavor are the audience. They're truly the only creators and authors left, because they give life to the products we sell.

YOLO

After playing through "You Only Live Once," "One Chance," and "Johnny in an Art Game" I've come to a conclusion: I agree with Warren Spector. Now, those who read this blog and have no idea what I'm talking about, I'll try to break things down very briefly. All the games I mentioned above are plot/narrative driven games in which you only have one chance to reach your goal. Warren Spector wrote an article entitled "Fun is a Four Letter Word," in which he displays his displeasure for the gaming communities focus on games being "fun" rather than serving any other purpose.

Now, I say I agree with Warren because as I played all three games, I didn't have fun. At any point. Yet, that didn't leave a bad taste in my mouth. I was still invested in the games and I came away from the experience thinking, rather than just grinning from ear to ear while my mind was all static.

At first, I was extremely annoyed with "You Only Live Once" because I couldn't even play, which I now see was a gameplay mechanic. Everything was so clunky because it not only upped the challenge, but presented me with a hilarious after death storyline. The best part was, I wasn't involved in that storyline as a player! I was dead! It was all jokes and gags set up by the creators specifically because I had died instead of surviving.

"One Chance" was a much heavier game. I wouldn't call this one fun either, yet, I found myself carefully weighing each option presented to me just because the game had my attention. The choices and subsequent consequences mattered to me. My daughter mattered to me. Yet, by being such a family man, I ended up never finding a cure, so everyone died. I was shocked when I found my wife in the bathtub. I had one shot at saving the world, or saving my daughter, and I blew it. What made it even more scarring was the fact that I couldn't get a do over. I let everyone down. It was significant to me on a level Call of Duty never has been.

"Johnny in an Art Game" was probably my least favorite, mainly because it was critiquing the medium of "One Play" games. It simplified everything down, basically saying, "Oh, you only can go one direction, and none of the questions about life, existence, or choice matter because there's one end to all of these games, and that's death and disaster." This really was a "One Play" game because it presented one direction to move, one outcome, and one very bitter message. Was it fun? Not in the least. Did it get me to think? Sure, about how this was narrow way of viewing games that are in this decision making, one chance genre.

What I'm getting at is this: Spector was right. The game industry has because over-saturated with the idea of having games that are specifically competitive and "fun." The three games mentioned above, yes, even "Johnny in an Art Game," showed that the one play style of games are viable options for exploring narratives. There can still be a whole story, with emotional weight, while having very simplistic gameplay mechanics. The idea of having one chance to do something right makes everything within the game appear more immediate, and thus, I examined my options a little more before blindly running in guns blazing. There were no extra lives or do overs, and that made the narrative more realistic to me. It made me think about live, and how you really might only have one chance at things, and how decisions lead to ripple effects. I think that if more games put more of an emphasis on decisions and outcomes, then maybe Spector's opinion could be realized. Not only that, if games offered existential questions and put more of a magnifying glass back on the player, then perhaps those outside of the gaming community would start to look at video games in a different light, perhaps even seeing them as a plausible art form. Yes, it's easier said then done, and yes, these games had simple production so they were able to build more of a narrative instead of focusing on shiny effects and epic boss battles. But maybe that's what games need right now. A little more of the human element, and a little less of the hollywood production.

As for the bonus post (ignore this if you're not part of my class, it'll probably just be boring), I never tried to get around the one play mechanic. Strange as it sounds, I fell in love with the idea that I had made my grave (literally) and I would sleep in it. I didn't want a do over because I felt that would take away from the magic and originality that my first play through had provided. Along that same vein, I do think that looking for playthroughs online is kind of cheating the game maker and yourself. Why even play through if you can just go online and see every possible outcome you could have? Then the game becomes obsolete because you just read what will happen. To me, it's a lot like reading about the ending to a movie or game online, or flipping to the last few pages of a book. Yeah, the journey's still there, but guess what, you already know where the path leads, so taking the journey is just leg work at that point. Just my thoughts, as always.

Ebert, Stanton, and why I'm not mad

I read Roger Ebert's reply to video gamers. I read Richard Stanton's indifferent article on why Ebert's argument along with the video gaming community's argument were both unimportant and unnecessary. I wish I could take Ebert's side, just for the sake of argument, as I do love dramas, films, and literature. I wish I could side with my fellow gamers and go on a zealous rampage, picketing outside Ebert's house, pooping in his yard to teach him a lesson. Yet, after some reflection, I find myself on Stanton's side. I don't think the question of video games as art needs to be answered, because, quite frankly, it's not answered for any other existing medium.

I couldn't stop shaking my head while reading Stanton's piece. I truly believe art is subjective. I hate high art. Loathe it. I just don't get it. So, how can I condemn someone like Ebert for not getting games? It's all personal. One person might love Sylvia Plath, someone might find her mellow dramatic and vow to never read her again (which, if this is the case, we can never be friends, I'm sorry.) To simplify I'll try and use specifically the medium of games.

I know people that love Skyrim and Oblivion. Personally, I'm not a fan. People might see them as fantasy art, Tolkien come to console, if you will. I don't see it that way. I find the openness obnoxious and restricting at the same time. It's overwhelming, and yet, I find myself given so many choices that I follow the base storyline. Therefore, my experience with the game won't be an "artistic" experience, if such a thing exists. Yet, when I play any of the Uncharted games, I find myself swept away, completely enveloped by the character, world, and adventures. I consider that art. I've seen people play games like Heavy Rain. They consider it so beautiful and fulfilling that it is art to them. To me, it's a boring trudge through a story I don't really care about. I have the same amount of fun staring at abstract art. Therefore, it's not art to me. The thing is, I know many people would read this and completely disagree with me on points. Isn't the fact that we can argue about whether games are art self-explanatory? I just feel like it's an indicator to anyone joining in this argument; you think it's art, someone else doesn't think so. Art is a moving target. It's not concrete.

Which leads me to talking about Stanton's most prolific point, in my opinion: Critics don't even know what art is. His simplification on this point, "I don't know much about art, but I know what I like," is probably one of the most accurate statements I've seen on the subject. Critics are held in such high regard because that's the title society bestowed on them. So they must be beacons of high art, right? Nope. There are game critics, music critics, art critics, film critics, food critics....you get the idea. Critics are, and this might be a blanket statement with much of my bitterness shining through, fans just as us of a certain medium, and it just so happens that they can write a few hundred words fluently. Ebert loves film, that's his artistic medium of choice. I love film too, but I would never call Nosferatu art, which I have seen six times, one of which I was awake for. I also hate almost all older films, and yet I've found that those are generally considered the foundation films for what we have today. Well, that's fine and good, but I'd much rather play Call of Duty than watch Singing in the Rain, because guess what? It brings me that feeling of joy, ecstasy, and engagement.

I'll let Ebert sit away in his tower and I'll let the gamers circle the wagons. I'll be off to the side enjoying whatever I enjoy, and seeing art wherever I see it. Is Drake really creating art? Not if you ask a lot esoteric music critics, but hell, I think he is, because I can feel it. I guess my final point and piece of advice is this; if you feel it in your loins, deep down, or if something moves you, then that's your art, forget all the other parameters.

The Stanley Parable and Panopticism

The basic overview of "The Stanley Parable" is that there is a worker named Stanley who holds a very mundane job until one day, he finds his whole office empty, so he goes in search of where everyone disappeared to. There is a narrator that guides the story, however, there are a plethora of options when it comes to the choices the player can make.

"Panopticism" by Michel Foucault discusses the idea of a "Panoptican," if I understood it right, which would be a disciplinary project that could be used in society, to see how people react and to enforce certain laws or orders. The general idea being that it would more or less be a tower that was all seeing, but that could not be seen. Not in the sense that it's invisible, just in the way that people could be observed while they are unaware that they are being watched.

This is the basic concept that comes into play when the game, or video in my case, begins, with Stanley leaving the office and going to his bosses office where he discovers that he, along with his coworkers, are not only being watched but controlled. He can escape in the first scenario, but if all the scenarios are observed as one unit, then the game reveals that the narrator is the true controller and watcher. Everything is preset. The narrator grows angry when things aren't going along with his set out destinations. Most of the endings where the player disobeyed the narrator led to the players death. It's just as in Foucault's piece; if people break out of the order, they are being observed doing so, so then a police force would come take care of it, or they would be exiled, just like the "lepers" mentioned, all because they represent a danger to society. What I found even more interesting was that the game took everything to a whole other level when the narrator was cast out because he wasn't following the rules of a woman narrator. It's more or less like a police state, at least in my eyes. Not necessarily a bad thing, as Foucault was just observing the best way for a society to run, but it does seem a bit extreme. The fact that the game even had a full computer system set up to control the actions and emotions of the workers fit right in with the Panopticism, where people could be put in different situations and given different circumstances, but they could be observed in a very isolated manner. It's kind of liking viewing microcosms of animal groups or plants, just on a much larger level with humans, who have free will, or at least a preconceived notion of having some type of free will. The game really showed what the essay talked about; free will exists so long as it's not disturbing the peace or disrupting the flow of society. Everything is mean to be in order and according to plan; Stanely only really achieved happiness in the first ending, and that's because he did what he was told. Then there was the ending where he ended up dead outside and affected "Maryella," I hoped I spelled that right. I saw it as Stanley being an example, just as the people who disobeyed the plague curfew were used as examples, just as though who disobeyed the religious institutions, school, so on and so on. It really fits all of the existentialism we've been reading in our class, at least in my opinion. It's like the excerpt from Sarte's "Nausea;" there is a perceived notion of choice, but really, there is no choice. We are part of existence, just as Stanley, but no matter our choice, we can't escape from the reality of our existence. Even death offers no escape, just as it didn't for Stanley, just because you still exist, just as dead matter in the ground that is degrading. Stanley even seems to try and fight the idea of existence before essence. He exists, and then he was a worker. However, he exists again and change his essence by going against the grain, or turning the generator higher, or even of the other "disobedient" actions he might take.

As I stated earlier, my favorite part was probably when the woman narrator took over for the male one. It was almost a double meta statement by the creators. Stanley's part of a Panoptica, but then so is his narrator, and, I'm assuming here, that she is also part of one. Just as Foucault stated, the police are meant to follow the kings order, following everything with his royal seal upon it, but at the same time, they work for the people against beggars, thieves, murderers, and what have you. So the same people that can use the police force for help can also be taken away by it for not following someone else's rule, just as the royalty could, the only difference between any of the groups being perceived power.

Which is why the male narrator was so angry when Stanley disobeyed. He had a sense of perceived power, but it was just that, perceived. There was nothing concrete about it. This type of disciplinary project can only exist when everyone in a society or group buys into it. Now, this may not mean that they are aware of the power or discipline that is floating above their heads, but they exist in the same sphere because without them, a police force wouldn't exist, and so everything would fall apart up the line, just like it did in "The Stanley Parable." That's what I got from it, so there you go.