2. Self-motivation, the foundation of good game design
Perhaps the essential difference
between play and taking part in a game is to do with motivation; play, as
defined by Kane (2005) is fundamentally fun, and therefore universally loved. A
game, while it may be enjoyable, can also be unenjoyable. I recently spent some
time researching by playing games such as World of Warcraft, Pac-Man and other
games of entertainment. (I am working…honest!)
Received wisdom suggests that the
motivation for such games is based on them being fun; I learn, but only as a
function of needing to know more about the game so that I could become better
at taking part. The obvious flaw in this seamless segue is that when I failed
to find fun in the games, I no longer had any motivation to play. Clearly, I
was motivated by the need to complete the research, but the motivation to
continue was nothing to do with any subtlety of design; rather it was the stick
of not being able to complete the research that drove me to continue playing
the game.
This was my game design Damascene
moment; games are not inherently motivational for everyone. It is assumed that
turning a piece of digital training into a game will inherently make it
engaging for everyone; this seems a truism. In fact, the converse is the case.
The scales fell from my eyes when
I got to level 10 of World of Warcraft. Boredom with Pac-Man and Space Invaders
is understandable. There is minimal storyline and little chance of personal,
team or societal enhancement. World of Warcraft is very different. This is a
real-time, 3-dimensional, multiplayer world. The graphics are astounding, when
compared to Space Invaders. A player can design their own character, there are
various quests, opportunities to collaborate with other avatars and,
intriguingly, a player can also choose to be a bad guy. What's not to love?
The narrative of massively
multiple online role-playing games (MMORPG) is regarded as core to their
intrinsic motivational design. (Dickey, 2006). The flexibility of the narrative
enables players to have their avatar participate in various small quests,
earning rewards and enhancing their character’s skills and capabilities. The
game is a smorgasbord of motivational titbits, with weapons, armour, skills,
spells and other offerings to accumulate as awards for achieving tasks. You can
even go off-piste should the mood take you. This is a truly astounding piece of
games design. So why did my epic journeys as Devan (my night elf alter ego)
become an increasingly unwelcome trudge?
After considerable reflection, I
discovered that I had no empathy with the character or his struggle. This may
seem odd, as it was me who created Devan, but the premise of the game is one of
empathy. The game expects, and I expected, to become as one with Devan, as Paul
Gee (2003) became emotionally invested in his avatar, Bead. If this bonding
occurs, then there is enormous potential for Csikszentmihalyi’s
flow (Csikszentmihalyi, 1992). Flow demands a deep commitment to a subject,
which the gamer/avatar bond can engender. Unfortunately, if that bond fails to
grow, the weight of guilt that the failure to develop a visceral connection
with one's pixelated progeny engenders is overwhelming. I began to subconsciously
invest Devan with unpleasant character traits. I considered him smug and
somewhat self-absorbed, while still feeling that he and his world were
essentially unbelievable; three-dimensional failings heaped on a
two-dimensional failure.
Why did I not connect with the
entire world (of Warcraft)? It is not due to any dislike of the fantasy
genre...video box sets of The Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit (two so far)
demonstrate my ability to willingly suspend disbelief in other realms. I think
it was the carnage. World of Warcraft takes the character from one “slaughter-fest”
to the next, with intervals of trying to find items which will provide rewards
of additional weaponry for attack or defence. I could not empathise with Devan
because the personal goals enforced on the character by the game designers were
so alien to my own. Any element of nurture or moral growth in Devan was always
more than counterbalanced by the inevitability of his butchery of a group of
orcs in the next quest. I had game-fatigue.
Even when I took part in a team quest I felt only relief when I was killed and
could metaphorically slink away.
I know that many of my colleagues
loved World of Warcraft and their characters. My disagreement is no criticism;
I am not right and they wrong. The key point is that, despite all the
motivational rewards, impressive graphics, complex storylines and opportunities
to collaborate with team mates, there was insufficient intrinsic or extrinsic
motivation, as defined by Abuhamdeh and Csikszentmihalyi (2009), for me to
continue playing that particular game. The journey offered me no personal, team
or social goals to which I could relate; "I level up, therefore I am"
just does not achieve any motivational state for me. My motivation for playing
World of Warcraft was the worst sort of extrinsic; it was a means to an end.
For games to succeed in
engendering flow, they must be fun and help to develop that state where
continuing, even through adversity or with immense effort, is the only thing
one wishes to do. However, just being a game does not mean that an activity is
fun or makes one want to play. This raises the question of how to stimulate
play, without the problem of instilling game-fatigue. MMORPGs attempt this by
presenting the gamer with a series of small quests. Their brevity makes it less
likely to trigger repetitive strain injury of the imagination. However, the
overarching narrative, so often a battle between opposing forces, means that
all missions are no more than a microcosm of the whole.
References
Abuhamdeh
S. and Csikszentmihalyi M. (2009) Intrinsic
and extrinsic motivational orientations in the competitive context: an
examination of person-situation interactions.
Csikszentmihalyi, M (1992) Flow:
The Psychology of Happiness
Dickey, M. D. (2006, June). Game Design Narrative for Learning:
Appropriating Adventure Game
Gee, J. P. (2003) What Video Games Have to Teach Us About
Learning and Literacy?
Kane, P. (2005) "A general theory of play" from
Kane, P., The play ethic: a manifesto for a different way of living pp.35-64
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