Mirror's Edge and Cultural Synergy

Last year I saw a video featuring "Mirror's Edge-inspired parkour" and that got me thinking about that game. Time and time again, I have seen the name of Mirror's Edge pop up front and center whenever anybody talks about parkour in video games. If there's a discussion about freerunning in video games, Mirror's Edge will come up. If ever a game is modified to be more based around freerunning, that modification will often be labeled "Mirror's Edge-inspired." Parkour enthusiasts have rallied behind this game and adopted its art style as a symbol of the freerunning culture. What's the big deal? Last week I started up the game to find out.

For the uninitiated, Mirror's Edge is an action platforming game focused heavily on navigating through the world. The player character is armed only with a set of freerunning skills inspired by the acrobatic art of parkour. Instead of going down a beaten path, the player must climb to higher ground, leap across rooftops, run across walls, and generally use the urban terrain in any and every way to get from point A to point B. One aspect of the game that assists players is a mechanic called "Runner Vision," which represents the character's intuition for pathfinding. In the game, Runner Vision turns certain objects and platforms red to present a possible path or escape route. This often clashes highly with the game's normal pristine white environments and is part of the game's signature design.

The story introduces us to a dystopian city where the rich and powerful wield absolute control through coercion and surveillance. Any dissent is quickly put down. The only hope for any resistance is in a breed of athletic couriers called runners. The runners are the backbone of an information network that gives freedom fighters a chance. The player takes on the role of Faith Connors, a runner tasked with saving her sister's life and uncovering the truth of the ominous "Project Icarus."

Between chapters the story is told through more stylized animated cutscenes which have a bit of a noir feel

And let me tell you, this game is a wild ride all the way through. One moment you'll be freely leaping between rooftops. The next, you'll be running for your life from gunfire. The next, you'll find yourself indoors and needing to find your way up to an air vent. The next, chasing after a suspicious character who has information you need. Because the terrain is so important to how you progress, I can look at any set piece from this game and remember what it was like to find my way through it.

If you can't tell by now, I ended up liking the game. I'm not a parkour enthusiast myself, but watching their work and playing this game has clued me in to how they can swear by it and admit it into their culture. In fact, what I've observed researching this game rings true for many instances of video games based off of real-world cultures, hobbies, professions, etc.

First of all, Mirror's Edge is spot-on when it comes to simulating parkour with video game controls and a first-person perspective. Even if it's not perfect, you can tell a lot of effort and observation went into this game, and I think that's what really matters. There are plenty of games that feature characters that run and jump and navigate structures to get to their goals, but Mirror's Edge is one of the few first-person games that places it front and center. Barring moments when you may get stuck in a combat situation, you'll be running around and navigating terrain. In fact, the best idea when faced with enemies oftentimes is to find a route around and avoid them. You are encouraged to stay in motion and keep this about the freerunning, which is admirable.

You'll be seeing this view often as you tackle the game's many daunting jumps

It's worth mentioning that there is a rather neat combat system that incorporates your parkour skills, along with a gunplay aspect. Apparently the game's handling of guns leaves much to be desired, but I never bothered. And that's saying more about the athletic fisticuffs; I was having too much fun disarming opponents with well-timed counters and jump-kicking singled-out targets!

And that's the thing about video games which makes it exciting when there is one made based off of a real-life interest. A game can be as grounded in realism as much or as little the designers want it to be. Just because a game is realistic in some ways doesn't mean it can't be exaggerated in other ways for the sake of an enjoyable playing experience. In Mirror's Edge, failing a jump can cause you damage or kill you. If you take a jump slowly or from the wrong angle, it will take you more time to recover from it. If you approach the jump at the right angle while running at top speed, you can leap over obstacles and pull yourself up to higher ground faster. Those make sense because you're able to build up momentum and from a game standpoint you're rewarded for moving efficiently. Meanwhile, Faith always has perfect balance, never fails a saving roll after a high jump, and is generally never subjected to little unavoidable human errors that often lead to injury. Case in point, someone I know is learning parkour and he once hit his head on the ground practicing a standard rolling procedure. Faith will never do that. When you tell her to roll, she rolls and that's that.

The point I'm getting at is how there is some element of homage whenever a real-world interest inspires the mechanics of a video game. I can imagine there's something flattering to parkour enthusiasts about a video game in which the player saves the day with "the power of parkour," so to speak. Faith's freerunning skills are an exaggeration of real-life capabilities to present a flattering and entertaining image of parkour that can be enjoyed by everyone, enthusiast or non.

Here is the video that inspired this discussion. I believe the performer is intentionally emulating the feel of the game, which is really cool

In addition, by appearing as the protagonist and player character of this game, Faith has established herself as an icon of sorts. When a video game studio got the idea to make a game with parkour as a central mechanic, this character was created. Her being fictionalized and designed to represent an art serves to make her easier to rally around. Her look, her attire, her affinity for colors, became synonymous with her and the culture she was made to represent. There's some back and forth homage and inspiration at work. As a result of this character's creation and use in the game, parkour practitioners who are fans of the game seem to enjoy adopting those traits. For instance the runner symbol, the color motif of crimson against pristine white, and Faith's attire. I know of at least one video where Faith's signature red glove is prominent.

Having a real-life interest given the "video game treatment" can be an exciting thing. It represents the interest in new ways that can generate more interest from unlikely sources. The video game can then be used as a bridge between long-time practitioners and people who became curious because of the video game. On the other end, the interests represented can return the excitement back by representing the game in their real life practices. They can rally behind a common icon, that being the game, game world, or significant characters. There are a great many games that have been inspired by real world practices and had potential to enhance both. I'll quickly list a few others that may not be on the level of Mirror's Edge, but still show the creativity of video games as a medium.

Punch-Out!! is a very simple game, but it makes us all feel like heavyweights

One early example of video games taking inspiration from real life: Punch-Out!! for the Nintendo Entertainment System. This game plays more like an action puzzle game than it does a fully robust boxing simulator. The game misses out of the little nuances of boxing strategy that I cannot begin to comprehend in favor of reaction-based gameplay and pattern memorization. In the end, we still have a go-to video game for fictionalized and exaggerated boxing and all the fun that goes with it. I recall that the Wii installment in the series was met with great enthusiasm by a YouTube video creator who was big into boxing. The protagonist, the Rocky-inspired Little Mac, has come into his own as a boxing representative that gaming can call its own. And if these games have provoked any solitary individual into looking at real boxing, that aspect has also been fulfilled.

Ace Attorney is not a close law simulator, but it is a celebration of logic and situational awareness

Another noteworthy example: The Ace Attorney series known mostly for its protagonist Phoenix Wright. Ace Attorney hardly represents the legal process. In fact, it's more of a melodramatic detective series that boils down to proving clients' innocence in murder trials. But the characters, design, and stories are all their own while still inspired by the legal system. While we won't see Phoenix design contracts, settle out of court, or brush up on changes in law, one basic and key element is still represented: Logic. Phoenix still uses logic and his knowledge of the situation to reach conclusions which are both favorable and feasible. Though logic and the ability to see the bigger picture are small parts of being a lawyer, they're still vital, and Ace Attorney hits that note. At least I'd hope so. I haven't studied law, so I'm at the mercy of actual practitioners.

Confession time: I genuinely was a little bit obsessed with farming after first playing a Harvest Moon game

Last on my abridged list: Harvest Moon. Who would have thought a game about farming would be so popular and spawn a series that is still ongoing in more than one line of games? Clearly the designers, who started with the concept of a farming game and made it into a money-making game fueled by consistent small tasks. The amount of time it takes to grow crops and mature livestock is exaggeratedly quick, but the principles of day-to-day hard work are well represented. I'm not so sure Harvest Moon will make many farmers out of gamers, but teaching the work ethic of farmers still counts for a lot.

How about you? What are your noteworthy games inspired by real-world interests, hobbies, sports, professions, cultures, etc.? What fictional characters have you come to enjoy as a symbol of said culture? Or how has a game sparked any interest in a real-world practice? I want to hear from you.

Gears of War and the Story of the Gameplay

A few years ago, way back in the year 2011, Cliff Bleszinski answered a fan question on Twitter. The fan asked, "What is more important, story or gameplay?" In other words, is it more important for a game to look great and tell a deep story, or is it better for a game to focus on playing well and provide great fun to the player? In my opinion, the answer varies depending on who you ask. You have people who can do both very well, you have games which are notable for refining one into artwork, and you have developers who can do one very well and need to focus on the other for a sense of balance. As for Bleszinski, he enigmatically tweeted back, "The Story of the Gameplay." Here we were expecting one or the other, but here is the curveball response.

I have occasionally obsessed over this answer ever since that day. What does that mean, the story of the gameplay? Does he mean one or the other? Does he mean both or something else entirely? On one hand, we can see it as Bleszinski being a wise guy and end it at that. Me, I like to give more credit than that. If not to Bleszinski, than to the concept itself. I happened to have tweeted back, asking Cliff if he was referring to an actual concept. I never heard back. So in the absence of any clarity from the source, let's figure out what it could mean ourselves. For reference, we will use Bleszinski's own Gears of War and its sequels.

For the uninitiated, Gears of War is a series of third-person shooter games. You take on the role of Marcus Fenix and a thrown-together squad of soldiers as they fight a seemingly hopeless war. The enemy? The Locusts, a race of invaders that emerged from underground to claim the planet. The interesting thing about the Locusts is how their ground troops are largely similar to humans to the point where they even use firearms and similar military tactics. Thus the conflict is more similar to fighting a standard war against a cunning and strategizing foe than any old alien invasion. Weapon choice, focusing targets, positioning, finding cover, and aiming true are all vital and you can't win if you lack any of them.

"@Culbec: @therealcliffyb what's more important, story or gameplay?" The Story of the Gameplay.
— Cliff Bleszinski (@therealcliffyb) March 16, 2011

The tweet that sparked this discussion

So now that we have our game, how do we tackle our concept? Let's break it down. "The story of..." refers to an event which is communicated between people, either recalling something that happened or making something up. "... the gameplay" refers to any factor that goes into how the player interacts with the game and their success is determined. Putting it together, we are looking for outstanding events that occurred while playing the game, perhaps even events that define the experience as a whole.

In the first Gears of War, one part of the story requires you to hold your ground at the entrance to a manor. Locust forces can only pour in through one entrance to get at you, but you can look out a window to pick them off before they even get there. That only works for so long until they bring out a larger enemy which cannot be whittled down before it reaches you. Further - I may be remembering this incorrectly - there are multiple of them at once. Therefore this sequence requires you to pick your targets, reserve your powerful ammunition for when you need to take down a big enemy, and position yourself so you can take effective cover and fire back.

I was stuck in this sequence for a very long time, and I was only playing the game on medium - medium! To be fair, the middle difficulty is called "Hardcore" so I at least knew what I was getting into. The strategy I employed was staying on the high ground to either side of the entryway where the Locusts came in. I did this to stay out of the way of rockets launched by the appropriately named Boomer enemies. But in the end, it was always the same deal. The Boomers were able to take too many hits and they just had to blow me up once to make me start the whole thing over. Something had to give every time.

After taking one rocket too many, I started to evaluate my options. I left the safety of my high ground to see what else the terrain had to offer. The manor entryway had tables, banisters, a dual stairway leading up, and raggedy couches. Surely, the couches were not suitable cover against bullets and explosives. But I tried it anyway. Furthermore, I positioned myself not to the side, but in front of the entryway. The Boomers would be able to fire at me as soon as they got in range, but the opposite was also true. This strategy resulted in a complete reversal. Being able to shoot as soon as I saw the whites of the Boomers' eyes meant I could start working the Boomers down before they even got close to the door. The Boomers fired back, but my couch proved to be a surprisingly formidable shield. The first Boomer died before it landed a foot in the entrance hall and the second one could only get a few steps in.

All at once, I made use of all of Gears of War's features. Strategy, position, cover, predicting enemy behavior, and aiming for weak spots. This experience really drove in how much thought went into this games design. It also makes for a good story.

Knowing how to remove troublesome turret gunners is also crucial. Hardcore mode's description is "You know how to pull off a headshot"

My second war story skips a generation to Gears of War 3. In particular, the game's competitive multiplayer. Just like the campaign, multiplayer requires teams to work as a unit, collaborate on a plan, position themselves well, take cover, pick their weapons wisely, and aim well. There is a good variety of game modes, and my story takes place in the one called "Capture the Leader." You run around shooting the other team, except this time one player on both teams is designated at a leader. The leader cannot die normally, but will be captured instead. The leader can't do anything, and the captor moves slowly while only using a basic weapon. The goal is to keep the opposing team's leader in the captured state for 30 seconds. Should both leaders be captured, neither timer will go down until only one leader is being held.

That said, boy did I have one good round. It started off poorly with our leader taken and dragged into the enemy's half of the arena. As I do often in these games, I died and respawned on my team's side. I had a bit of good luck as I found a boomshot, an explosive not unlike the Boomer rockets. My second bit of luck was seeing the enemy leader with another enemy. I suppose they figured with all the fighting happening around my team's leader, they could just hang out on our side where none of my team would think to look.

I sprung into action, firing a Boomshot that killed the regular opponent and took down the leader. The opposing team's clock ticked down 5... 4... 3... 2... and stayed at two. I picked up the enemy leader and forced the two timers into an impasse. And since the opposing leader delivered himself to my team's territory, I was safe while my team scrambled to free my leader. I positioned myself well behind cover and on high ground.

Suddenly, an enemy ran by. How did he get there and why didn't he notice me? I then realized that we were so far in the game that the spawn points had switched. In other words, the territories had just switched, pitting me in the enemy territory. Though it seemed that they hadn't caught on yet. On the flip side, my team was now entering the field closer to my team's captive leader. After some time, I heard a chime. The opponent's timer vanished and my team's timer began to tick down. That was good, but I was still in their territory and my team was still picking itself up after saving the leader.

Finally, one of the opponents thinks to look up the ramp in his new spawn and sure enough must have caught a glimpse of me. He doesn't have a direct line of sight, so his only option is to get up close and smack me down. He even tosses up a smoke grenade, which fills my screen with white and gray and no trace of his approach. While I hold the opposing leader, I can't use any of the "good" weapons, making do with just a basic pistol. If I were to survive, I would need to find him as soon as he came through the smoke, fire as soon as possible, and hit every one on his head. Those were a lot of stars to align.

And yet, they did end up aligning. I saw, I aimed, I fired, I hit. The opponent fell down and was no longer a threat. Him out of the way, I was uncontested and finished off the leader for the win. I imagine if I opted in for voice chat, there would have been lots of cheering to go around. If you think that's cool, the next round is equally worth talking about. I entered the battlefield and was immediately taken down by a shotgun point-blank. Short but sweet.

You'll see the player's team's counter is at 30 and about to count down. The enemy has no counter because they do not have the player's leader. If the enemy leader were to get away, the player's team would have to start all the way at 30 again

Now that we have these anecdotes, what does this mean for our elusive "story of the gameplay?" My friends, I believe we are onto something. The game is built and designed in such a way that you can have your moments of glory with some luck and skill during typical play. Any game can accomplish this, but I think Gears of War has this very concept in mind. When I think about "typical" game flow, I think about the game introducing its concepts and mechanics, building a player's skill with coasting low-intensity tasks, and then testing those skills against a challenging boss enemy or stage.

Gears of War is different. The game has its mechanics - aiming, reloading, taking fire, running, dodging, etc. - but most problems are not solved alone by practice. You need tactical smarts. You need to know when to apply pressure or when to fall back. You need to recognize a good vantage point where you'll be safe and have a good view of the enemy. You need to know when you're outnumbered and a frag grenade will even those numbers. You need to recognize opportunities to get at your enemy's sides or back. You need to assess if the situation is clear enough for the rest of your team to charge in and control more of the battlefield. You need to think like a soldier and not just know how to use their weapons and abilities.

This game invites war stories because of how it isn't won by "playing hard," and that is where the story of the gameplay comes in. This game is designed in such a way that every moment, decision, and small victory is imbued with a sense of importance. My experience playing this game stuck with me because the way each skirmish played out was as a result of my skill and knowledge. It was hardly ever cut-and-dry how I was going to stop the advancing enemy or force my way into a stronghold. Because this game felt so significant, I can remember all of these events in such vivid detail. The story of the gameplay is not something told by the game, but instead something lived out and told later by the player. No game can guarantee that every player will have their own story of the gameplay, but games like Gears of War sure promote it by engaging the player's tactical thinking.

So Cliff, and Epic Games by extension, whether or not "the story of the gameplay" is a real thing, your game is robust and carefully crafted enough for me to make my own definition. Cheers!

Another game I have stories for days is Bravely Default. Trying out new class combinations makes for riveting conversation. Anyone else feeling deja vu?

And you know what, I like this concept. Making a game so noteworthy to play that you could make a story out of it is a noble endeavor and a mark of true effort. This got me thinking in a broader sense. If we can make stories of out typical play in a video game, what else in our lives can we make stories about that we otherwise would think are not that noteworthy? Is your job more interesting than you may give it credit for? Could you form a story around a meeting or a task you took on? Do you play a sport? Did you witness an amazing play or take part in one yourself? Do you exercise? Is the reason you exercise interesting? Did you dig deep in your own mind to find the will and courage to exercise? Perhaps someone would be entertained and even motivated by hearing it.

Or maybe, just maybe - and I won't imply this is the absolute truth for a moment - you know that your life could be more interesting. Any life could be more interesting. I sure know that's true for my life. This added interest could come in the form of the aforementioned sports, exercise, hobbies, groups, community involvement, and so many more. This discussion was inspired by an Abstruse Goose comic in which the author addresses the concept of a noteworthy day. On an August 4th night, he climbed a pyramid structure and broke his foot on the way down. To quote the comic, "Now I bet you're thinking that climbing a pyramid, screaming 'I Tony Montanta', and breaking my foot was a pretty stupid way to spend the night. But I'll also bet that you don't remember what you did on August 4.'

So just like I would ask myself, "Can I remember what it was like to play Gears of War?" I should also be asking myself, "Can I remember what I did on April 24th?" I like the idea of working within my means to make every day significant. Even just a little more so. 

Borderlands and Media Intimacy

Game trailer for mature audiences

I have a friend who is an absolute Borderlands nut. He has internalized all of the lore, all of the characters and settings, and I'm pretty sure he knows every line of dialogue in the second installment. So naturally, during the run of the first Borderlands, he one day gifts me the game over Steam with demands that we play together. It's a big-name game and it has my good friend so riled up to play it, so I gave it a shot.

For the uninitiated, the Borderlands series is of the first-person shooter genre. You assume the role of an adventurer exploring the world of Pandora. The goal of the first game is to find a mythical stash simply called "The Vault," so adventurers of your kind are known as "vault hunters." You have four vault hunters to choose from, each with distinct weapon affinities and abilities that make their play styles very unique. It's a completely different game to start a new file as another vault hunter. As for the world of Pandora itself... well, the only way I can put it is "violently quirky." Imagine wild west with alien creatures, some future technology, and some of the most endearingly shameless dark humor I've seen in a game. Add in roleplaying elements and an impossible amount of weapon varieties, and you have a game formula that can last the avid gamer a very long time.

So I play Borderlands in a group of three. I had fun, but I really wasn't feeling the game. I was the only person playing for the first time, so the other two just tore through knowing exactly where to go and what to do. I meandered behind them by comparison and maybe got a few shots off. I was basically dragged through the game without any chance to catch my breath and try to get a feel for the game. I should have said something, but I was expecting to pick it up along the way. Coming off from these play sessions, I found Borderlands to be merely a solid shooter with a nice animated design and a sense of humor. For some reason, having this lukewarm response to the game didn't sit well with me, so I played some more. My friends were busy at the time, so I started a new character solo.

The original four vault hunters - Roland, Brick, Lilith, and my man Mordecai.

My friends, the difference was night and day. Playing the game at my own pace allowed for me to truly have a personal playing experience. I could slow down and take in the scenery without anybody having to wait on me. I could actually explore around the landscape and go off the beaten path to see what was over there away from the objective. Without my friends acting as a combined shield and battering ram, all the enemies shot at me and I had to fend for myself. I got to use different weapon types and see which ones suited my playing style and my skills. Heck, I even became aware of an entire aspect of the game.

You see, weapons in the original Borderlands came plain or in one of four "elements." Your weapons could simply cause damage, or also light an enemy on fire, destroy shields faster, destroy armored enemies quickly, or simply have their bullets explode. In a group, I was completely unaware of this because everything died so fast. But alone, I was forced to experiment with elemental weapons. Through my own trial and error, I saw which situations called for which types of weapons and I was able to build my own assembly of weapons that I switched through and used.

Furthermore, I got to learn about my character. I simply picked him because I liked his design, but I came to realize he was perfect for my play style. I tend to favor the handgun weapon types in shooters, and it turns out my character, Mordecai, had skills and abilities dedicated solely to this one weapon type. By building Mordecai into his "Gunslinger" abilities, I became my own wrecking ball of quick reflexes and precise shots. I was finally having the immense fun that was expected of me when playing this game. Nothing against my friends and their most well-meaning approach, but I only could have reached this level of intimate familiarity with the game playing it by myself.

A typical weapon in Borderlands. These things are as plentiful as rain and their attributes are almost always completely randomly generated. You will have lots and lots of guns pass through your hands.

And that brings me to the topic of this article, a concept that I have preliminarily dubbed "media intimacy." I would have called this "game intimacy," but I have realized over time that this concept applies to more than just games. In fact, oral tradition may have the honor of being the first media to engage people in media intimacy. The idiom "curling up with a good book" is a great example of media intimacy as well.

So, what is media intimacy exactly? As I define it, media intimacy is the connection between a person as an individual and any sort of media. If you've ever "gotten into" a movie, TV show, book, or even a live performance, you've experienced media intimacy. You're more than just a consumer. You feel like you're part of whatever it is that you're watching, listening to, or playing. A "fan" of something is a person who is intimate with the media that they are a fan of. Even if all of someone's experiences with the media have only been as with a group, it takes just one individual thought or interpretation to spark an interest. And when this person engages in just thinking about the media on their own terms with nobody else to influence it, media intimacy begins.

Thus, when I played Borderlands by myself and engaged with it on my own terms, I became intimate with the game. The gameplay was more significant to me. The characters were more significant to me. The story, the setting, the individual events and lines of dialogue, all significant. I could more appreciate the game as a sum of its parts and not just as another example of its genre.

The most recent game that showed me a good time via media intimacy is Bravely Default. Such a deceptively complex game, but the most rewarding when you put in what little effort is needed to learn its ropes.

When I came back to playing Borderlands in multiplayer with my friends as my custom-built Mordecai, I was far more proactive. I got right into the fray and knew what weapon to use against which targets. I knew what events were happening, so it didn't bother me when we glazed over the cinematic sequences. I knew what went into a good weapon, so I didn't just pick up and drop anything just because it had an impressive design. We finally were all playing the same game. I was truly a vault hunter and I couldn't be happier.

And by all means, if we can be intimate with our media, why can't we be intimate in other areas of our life? How about business intimacy, or professional intimacy? Art intimacy or, hear me out, social intimacy? The common thread here is you engaging with your chosen topic on your own terms. You need to want it for reasons all your own. That's not to say you can't be influenced by the ideas of others, but the way you process those ideas need to be yours and yours alone. Thinking or acting some way just because someone else said so isn't intimacy. Or at least that's how I see it. After all, if you're taking any of my words to heart, you're engaging in media intimacy right now by taking in my words and processing that information.

Case in point, I am currently taking classes to learn programming. And as it stands, I'm hard-pressed to really get into programming when I just think about it in terms of assignments, grades, and lectures. But when I'm by myself and think of programming languages as fun tools with which to build fun programs, I find it much easier to learn and love programming.

Now I'd like to hear from you. Now that you have some idea of what I'm talking about, what are your experiences with media intimacy? What are you a fan of? Has a game, book, movie, TV show, etc. really made an impact on you? I want to hear about it.

Dead Space and Being the Silent Protagonist

I love the first Dead Space. By now, the Dead Space series has made a big name for itself and spanned three installments with some games and literature on the side. But before the brand took off, there was just the one really ambitious title. Dead Space has great atmosphere, looks incredible, employs creative enemy designs, and gives players a satisfying variety of weapons. It's also one of the definitive games that emerged from the boom of American-made horror titles in the late 2000s. Don't quote me on this, but I imagine the immense success of Capcom's Resident Evil 4 got that ball rolling.

There is one aspect of Dead Space that I think is vastly understated even today. Later installments even did away with this precedent that I thought was pretty important. I am of course talking about the fact that protagonist Isaac Clarke never spoke. Everyone else carried conversations naturally, but Isaac himself never got a spoken word in edgewise. The game covers for this by having all the conversations scripted in ways that don't require Isaac's input.

The silent protagonist in video games has been around since video games themselves. When the main character of a game lacks a voice, it becomes easier for the player to project themselves in the character's place to be more engaged in the game's settings and situations. Gamers most often think of iconic silent characters such as Crono, Gordon Freeman, Link, and other characters who never actually speak in written dialogue.

Vahn from Legend of Legaia is my obscure silent protagonist of choice

However, are these characters really silent? These silent characters clearly communicate through the course of their games. For instance, a character's dialogue with the main character will come off as a conversation with him or herself. "May I help you? Oh, you want the water gem? I can't give it to you unless you slay the dragon. You'll do it?" In Mario and Luigi: Superstar Saga, the plumbers have dedicated animations for when they speak. Even though their words come out as a string of comical gibberish, they clearly hold functional conversations with the other characters of the game world. There are games out there where the main characters don't communicate, but I feel this has the most impact in Dead Space.

Let's examine the situation: In Dead Space, Isaac is stranded in a derelict space vessel that is infested with horrifying monsters. He is not entirely alone since he maintains contact with two colleagues, Kendra and Hammond. While Isaac braves the depths of the USG Ishimura, Kendra and Hammond remain in relative safety while they figure out what's wrong with the ship and how to escape their predicament. For most of the game, everything Isaac does is not his idea. He simply moves from order to order issued to him by other people.

Further, the game is scripted and acted in a way that Isaac's silence just feels natural. The way the characters interact with him, you get the impression that they are used to carrying a conversation with Isaac. Instead of Isaac simply being slapped with the stigma of silence for effect, that may just be part of his character to be soft-spoken, if spoken at all. All of this, combined with the way he moves like a civilian, has Isaac strike me as an introvert. Quiet, maybe a little awkward, evasive but not reclusive, and generally a softer personality type than what Western media typically offers.

A great documentary going into the thought process of using a nonstandard hero.

Given this, your first impression of Isaac may be that he is a weak character. In fact, his situation could be downright insulting. One of the first things that happens in the game is Hammond ordering you to hack open a door with about as much enthusiasm as turning a doorknob. If you were in a bad mood, you might have felt that your character's life skills and expertise were being marginalized by his role.

You know what, you'd be right. Despite the fierce appearance of Isaac's protective suit, he never struck me as a person of action in the initial minutes of the game. It served as a great contrast for when as the game escalated, we'd see this character forced to rise to the situation.

And even though Isaac doesn't talk, that doesn't mean he can't think or feel. He feels terror plenty. Any time he takes damage or worse, you can hear his muffled cries of pain and fright through his helmet. Should you fall prey to one of the game's gruesome death scenes, you'll hear just what Isaac feels about the situation. I absolutely loved this aspect of the game since the muffled cries invoked a claustrophobic feeling because the character couldn't be heard properly. It goes to show that Isaac's silence becomes a source of strength since he maintains it in a hostile environment. Silence both of word and emotions. He is plenty scared, but isn't letting it affect his ability to do something about it.

The second way Isaac expresses himself is through his personal log. Though it's mostly a game mechanic to remind the player of what they're supposed to be doing next, it's still written in Isaac's "voice." The logs depict Isaac as rational, focused, nonjudgmental, and given the situation, scared. He rarely writes anything personal about others, unless it's a response to storyline developments. This limited exposure allows us to see Isaac as the most level-headed person on the ship. He clearly feels more confident in expressing himself with the written word above the spoken word.

Watch the first minute. Seeing Isaac straighten his posture to fight this monster is my favorite moment.

The big payoff in all of this character analysis is seeing Isaac get work done. Here we have this wallflower of a character and he's the one destroying monsters, making repairs to the ship, and saving the day. It's hard to appreciate this character development when it's actually us, the players, doing the real work. We're more inclined to celebrate our own victories rather than keep our perspectives all within the game world. Objectively speaking, Isaac can deliver. Though not very impressive as a communicator, Isaac shows his strength of character through his actions. We could have had a main character with all the vocalized confidence in the world who could have done the same thing, but because our first impression of Isaac was not as strong, that made his actions all the more meaningful.

The more I think about this and how organic of a character Isaac Clarke is, the more I thought about how this translates to the way we act and see others in the real world. I'll admit right here that I based my vision of Isaac Clarke largely on my own introverted self. As I analyzed Isaac and how his actions have meaning, I came to realize that I too benefit from my actions. Whenever I come out of my shell to do something, it always seems to grab attention. Conversations start, we keep in touch, and before I know it I have new friends and acquaintances that I am comfortable enough around to cut loose a bit more and approach.

Just like Isaac, we all have some area that we have our strengths in, our proverbial "good sides," if you will. We just have to figure out how to display this good side to others and use it as a gateway to introduce those others to our beautiful personalities. This is why self-help gurus often recommend volunteer work to help people find friends. The fact that you are doing volunteer work shows your fellow volunteers and others that you are the sort of person who does volunteer work. If you are artistic, find a venue in which your work can be displayed for others to see. I'm doing that right now by sharing this blog with all of you! And it has worked. I've met some new people and hope to meet many more as I continue to write these posts.

Now, how about you? What is your "good side" that you would love sharing with others as a way for them to get to know you? Can you play sports well? Do you like movies? On the other side of this post, which video game characters do you consider strong and well though-out? Maybe you see a character different than most people do. Maybe your reasons for liking a character are personal. I would love to hear all the varying responses and reasons. Until then, game out.

The Skylanders Mom and Gamer Networking

Given some time, shopping for video games with one's parents is going to become one of those essential childhood memories. I know that I cherish such memories. During my own trips to video game retail stores, I occasionally get  a glimpse into what the whole process is like nowadays. I've seen all sorts of experiences, ranging from the nagging kid whose parent buys a game based off a cartoon, to the encouraging parent purchasing the latest Mario for their grateful child. But sometimes, you see something different.

Browsing in the Electronics section one time, I overhear a mother and son in the Skylanders toys. For the uninitiated, Skylanders is an action/adventure series of games which contains a huge library of playable characters. You gain the ability to play as new characters by purchasing the action figure of that character and using a peripheral to plug the character in the game.

In the store, I actually saw in passing the son placing an action figure on the demo booth to see the character in action. He was seriously deliberating. Eventually, he goes to his mother and says he chose that character. And this is where it gets interesting. The mother takes one look at the character and says, "This looks like a big guy. Don't you play the fast guys?" to which the son responds that he wants to try a slow-but-strong character for once. They went back and forth for a bit, including one time when the kid tried a big character at a friend's house and said he didn't like it, leading to the kid saying he wanted to actually take it seriously.

What struck me about this exchange is that the mother and son were genuinely discussing strategy and logistics about the game. Normally, we'd come to expect the mother to sigh "okay," drop the toy in, and be on with her day. But here, she actually took the purchase seriously and wanted to talk it through first. Not as the credit card-holder trying to stave off a purchase, but as someone who understands what the purchase means to the child. She knew enough about the game to talk about it on the same terms as her child.

Every character in Skylanders comes with its own unique stat spread.

I was floored to hear this. I don't know if this is increasingly common now, but during my youth parents did not try to understand video games. The norm was that video games were not something that required further understanding. They were in the same league as simple toys. It's funny I say this so firmly because one of my parents was a subversion of this norm. My mother, much like the Skylanders mom, actually stopped to look at what I was playing and rationalize the bright colors on the screen. She knew what "characters" meant to video games. She understood what a "hit point" was. She saw how to recognize who the player character was without needing me to tell her. She knew what a power-up was and could alert me to when one pops onscreen.

Hearing the Skylanders talk made me think about a discussion I had before where I tried to make the argument that video games are just as complex and conversation-worthy as any real-world sport. Naturally, the other person had all of popular culture on their side and I had to concede. In light of overhearing this conversation, I'm thinking popular opinion is starting to sway the other direction. Now that video games are on the popular culture radar, my argument for the complexity of games has more ground to stand on.

Lastly, and just as importantly, even I could understand the conversation I was overhearing. Not because I've played Skylanders, but because I've played games in general. Games have a lot of things in common. In this case, the kid was used to characters that moved fast but could not defeat enemies quickly. This new character would move slow, but defeat enemies with less hits. He is swapping out the advantage of speed for the advantage of power and perhaps other capabilities.

Fighting games, by far, most emphasize the differences between characters and topics of discussion.

Thinking on that last point, I have come up with a term for how general video game knowledge allows someone to understand a game they haven't played yet. "Gamer networking" is what I've come up with so far. That is, networking with an emphasis on video games. In this day and age, "networking" mostly refers to a person socially engaging others to build a "network" of friends and acquaintances. People often network by emphasizing things they have in common, such as what movies they like, sports they follow, what they do for a living, and so on. This way a person can have a big network to be well-connected in many places among many types of people.

Gamer networking is interesting because video games are so complex. There are entire genres of games, and each game in each genre can be radically different from each other. And yet, video games all come from the same roots and therefore contain a lot of similarities as well. For instance, Final Fantasy is a very different game from Bioshock. However, both games have in common that the players attack enemies in order to win. In both games, the damage that players deal to enemies is quantified. In both games, the amount of damage can be increased in some way. In both games, the benefit of increasing attack power is taking less time to defeat regular enemies and being able to keep up with the more difficult encounters. Therefore, if a player of either of these games mentions a time for opportunity in which they increase their attack power, the other will know right away the basic benefits of that increase. And yes, players of both of these games will be able to join a conversation on using heavy characters in Skylanders.

Gamer networking is not just for people who freely identify as gamers. People who network over sports have discussions of a very similar sort. And then there's the fact that non-gamers have stormed the scene as casual and social gaming grow. Let's take one of the most prolific games of the modern era, one that every person reading this blog has either played, played secondhand, or heard about. Yes, folks, even players of Angry Birds can get in on the action. Angry Birds is a game more different from Skylanders, Final Fantasy, and Bioshock from each other, yet the concept of "more power" exists there as well.

Though Angry Birds does not emphasize defeating enemies, you still use force to knock down buildings using your birds. The individual birds cannot power-up, but using special birds is satisfying and mostly essential for getting the best results on stages. The Big Brother Bird in particular goes along with my point because it is a straight upgrade from the standard red bird character. It may not be as precise as the red bird, but precision is less of a factor when your bird can just demolish whatever it touches. It's not exactly the sort of quantified power in the other examples, but it is a relative increase in power all the same. Kind of a stretch, but the connection is there.

Just watch the first minute to see the big guy tear it up.

You see, the more you break down a video game into relatable problem-solving tasks, the more easily someone can understand it. The less a person knows about games, the simpler you'll have to get. Getting someone on your level requires effort and patience, but it is worth it. I've had long conversations with people who have no prior interest in games but every good intention to understand what they can, and all because I worked my way up.

It seems that we as gamers also have the progress of technology on our side. The more people come to rely on bright screens and dealing with user interfaces, the less foreign video games feel. In fact, video games may turn around and help us in the real world of situational awareness and problem solving; but that's a topic for another time. Either way, the Skylanders mom provided a good window into what could be when it comes to public knowledge and attitude surrounding video games. Perhaps in the future, more complex games will work its way into global culture; and not just a split-second of Call of Duty or an offhand app reference.

So, what about you? What experiences have you had in gamer networking? Ever tried explaining a game to your parents? Invited your friends over for some game time and had some banter? Or maybe you've butt heads with another game online about the superiority of one character or another. I know we've all done it, and I want to hear it. Until then, game out.

Quick Time Events and the Subconscious

The laugh track. The sound board. The wide-angle lens. As media evolves, it develops new techniques. Either because of advances in technology, or simply because an idea sees great success and becomes a trend. Video games have seen plenty of its own techniques as the time has passed. One of the more divisive techniques of the modern school of gaming is the quick time event.

For the uninitiated, a quick time event (QTE) is a gameplay mechanic in which the game prompts the player to press a specific button to achieve a certain goal. This is different from regular gameplay in that these button-presses are context sensitive. Where the A button normally makes you jump, in a QTE you'll be prompted to press the A button to have your character jump out of the way of a falling rock. QTEs are characterized by being reaction-based and generally trying to give a gameplay translation for a character's instincts.

I can trace the evolution of the quick time event in three landmark games. The first game is Shenmue, released for the Dreamcast in 1999. During the course of the game, main character Ryo Hazuki is put in several situations where he must avoid something, catch something, or give chase to someone. In particular, the chase scenes involved Ryo dodging obstacles and choosing paths. For the cinematic effect, regular gameplay was probably not intricate enough or too awkward. Thus, the scene was depicted as a cutscene with quick time events as input. The scene changed depending on the player's success with the quick time events. Shenmue implemented QTEs so effectively that it put the concept on the map for future games to build on.

The Wii literally shook things up by incorporating motion controls.

The next game in my analysis is Resident Evil 4. Aside from forging new ground in third-person shooter games, I find this game incorporated quick time events not unlike Shenmue. In fact, Resident Evil 4 used them more frequently and in different ways. A cutscene would play for minutes, when all of a sudden the A button would appear onscreen. In the case of Resident Evil 4, failing a QTE would almost always result in a gruesome death for protagonist Leon Kennedy. Perhaps someday I'll revisit the concept of those death scenes in another post. QTEs also appeared in non-scripted situations, such as when an enemy grabbed Leon. This actually is a step up from a Resident Evil 3 mechanic which allowed the player to move in the opposite direction of an enemy and avoid damage. This is shown by having Jill Valentine execute a dodge ability.

The last game that I think leads up to quick time events as they are today is Dead Space. Dead Space, or at least my interpretation of it, is a game that aims to one-up everything about Resident Evil 4. The running and gunning was smoother, the environments were much more immersive, and the death scenes were even gorier. Once again, I'll come back to that sometime. And yes, Dead Space incorporated quick time events in similar ways. In fact, Dead Space took it a step further. Dead Space set up "scripted events" which required QTEs and other context-sensitive actions to progress. For instance, upon entering a certain corridor, the game is programmed to have a large tentacle monster grab Isaac Clarke and drag him to a hole. The player had to shoot the monster's weak point to save Isaac. However, the fixed camera made this difficult.

So what am I getting at here? Games like Dead Space, Resident Evil 4, and Shenmue have a sort of "pace" to playing them. Quick time and scripted events are part of the experience and the brand of these games. There are normalcy and consistency in these mechanics. Well, I've had an experience that told me there's more to this.

Failure scenes have become a separate art form. The new Tomb Raider sure has its share.

We've all had that one dream where something is attacking us and we can't do anything because it's a dream. In my case, I've dreamt that there's literally a snake in the grass in the front yard outside my house. I step into the grass, because it's a dream, the snake prowls around, lunges for me, end dream. I'm not particularly afraid of snakes, I guess I had recently watched or played something with snakes.

Then, one night, my dream changed. Same set-up, but this time when the snake lunged, time seemed to slow down and I saw a prompt for a dodge. The dream followed the prompt and allowed the snake to fall past me. The dream then prompted me to move in for a counter strike. I did, and, well, I can't really pull much more of the dream past that. Either way, waking up from that dream gave a very interesting feeling. My go-to dream for helplessness was completely turned around to be empowering. Because of video games? Because of quick time events?

Like I said before, quick time events are a reaction-based mechanic. They test your reflexes and hand-eye coordination by telling you a button to press and giving you little time to do so. Gamers typically have better association of buttons with functions than they do the labels of the buttons to their positions. I also mentioned how QTEs can be a gameplay translation of instinct. Instinct, which I define in simple terms as "being yourself quickly." That is, react as you would without taking time to revise in your head. It's empowering to know what to do and when. It helps you reaffirm your identity and proudly own it.

Heavy Rain, a PlayStation 3 title, was really ambitious with quick time events.

Video games always depict characters using instinct to save themselves or others from peril. In real life, ideally, peril is not ever-present. However, the opportunity to use our instincts is. For instance, I'm sure at some point in your life someone has approached you and said "hello." What did you do in return? Look at them and stare blankly while you decided between "hi," "hello," "good morning," or just a nod? Probably not. You picked a response and had a conversation. Your brain went through a little quick time event. Sure, nothing was at stake. Life would go on if you had said "apple," but all the same you were prompted and your instinct to greet the person back kicked in.

Saying "hello" isn't exactly the most intense example, but it is a relatable one. Real-life quick time events happen all the time. Some of them occurring in the form of decisions. Ever catch a ball that was flying straight toward you? Good job on that quick time event! Job seekers, have you ever seen a posting on craigslist that you qualify for but said "nah?" That was a quick time event that you willingly didn't respond to. The only difference is you won't come back to that moment to "get it right." This isn't guilt, just fact.

The fact that video game characters can respond to situations so quickly and expertly is why we see them as being strong. They don't second-guess what they're capable of, they just do what they can - or must. We too can be just like them. Sure, we won't be hitting any emergency brakes nor making jumps to safety, but we will be accomplishing commonplace feats that make us great people in our own home. Helping someone grab the milk on the high shelf, taking out the garbage, speaking up to volunteer, speaking up to not go through with something that you're being pressured into. All of these things which you may brush off or not feel "strong" enough to accomplish are more possible than you can imagine. It's not as simple as pushing a button, but it takes just as much effort when you set your mind to it.

Give it a try. See if, in your regular day, you can recognize a quick time event and do what you imagine it's prompting you to do. If you have any relatable experiences with real-life quick time events that you want to share, please post in any of the linked social media. I look forward to seeing responses. Until then, game out.

P.S.

I make quick time events out to be very promising, but in execution they actually have somewhat of a poor track record in gamer culture. See below for a humorous take.

Street Fighter IV and Owning Your Character

There's two things we know about Street Fighter character Guile for sure: His theme goes with anything and his advice to any person is that they "go home and be a family man!" Aside from these very memetic things, I wonder how much about Guile the common internet goer knows? Do they know his actual personality? His back story? His rank in the US air force? I'm sure that people who enjoy studying up on the Street Fighter mythos would know all that.

As for me, I actually did not care much for Guile. It's true. In my younger years, I COULD NOT fathom Guile's moveset. The core of Guile's special moves is the mechanic of holding the joystick in one direction, then quickly moving the other way and using an attack. For the life of me, I could not get that timing down. I guess I rather harbored those frustrated times and continued to overlook Guile for that reason.

In particular, the Flash Kick vexed me. Part of the command was 'up.' As in the same 'up' used in jumping!!

In my recent playing of Super Street Fighter IV: 3D Edition I made it a point to give every character a chance. When I played Guile, all that learned behavior came back. The natural aggression I learned playing Ken, Dudley, Rose, etc. clashed with the campy style that Guile promotes. One of Guile's strategies is to keep in a low blocking position so he can punish impatient opponents. Low block? Come on! This is Street Fighter! I want to go in fireballing and uppercutting! Granted I can now appreciate how intricate the fighting system is and how there IS more to it than quarter-circle-punching my way to victory... my stance on Guile hadn't changed.

In addition, I found Guile to be... well, kind of a jerk. In his win quotes, he tended to be condescending in that 'grown-up' way and put people down after winning over them. I guess that being a soldier, he feels a need to discourage others from combat and fighting and all that. Even so, I wasn't a fan.

A little later, my constant playing of the game lead me to take on a different sort of project. As part of that project, I needed to do a character study of Guile. Mind you, the reason I picked Guile was for his memetic qualities alone. All I really wanted was to get a feel for how he behaved in battle so I can build accurate fight scenes involving him. Naturally, the start of this was rather reluctant.

I got a feel for his martial arts in a narrative sense, but I was left wanting more from the gameplay perspective. Thus, I dedicated some time to practice and study.

In time, I got into it. My advanced gamer reflexes could now pull off the timing necessary for sonic booms and flash kicks. I learned the range of Guile's fierce attacks, doing sweeps to stall and charge a special move, and made it a game within a game to see if I can pull off Guile's Ultra attack, much more actually finish a match with it.

Suddenly, I was hyped for Guile. I was learning while I was mopping up and it was fun. I even took pride in his personal mannerisms like sunglasses, his dedication to his hair, and his occasionally ham-fisted demeanor. Because I lived this character, I internalized more his dedication to his mission and the merits of his patriotism. His attitude towards other fighters still left something to be desired, but I knew more than before that Guile was within his character to say those things. He wasn't particularly condescending... he was just Guile. Rather than accentuate the negative to support my aversion to the character, I looked for all the positive to see. After all, a character that I spent so much time learning can't be all that bad, right?

So... what happened here? I circled around Guile for half my life and didn't give him a second thought. Suddenly I gave him the benefit of a doubt and I'm an overnight family man? Not quite.

See, if Street Fighter came from and stuck to a non-interactive medium, say purely big/small screen franchise, I doubt I could have ever taken a shining to Guile. His no-nonsense personality was too abrasive for me. I would have supported him as a protagonist, but only that far. Expanding on his back story may give me more to judge him by, but the character we have here doesn't change much for it.

The video game angle is what caused this change in outlook. It's one thing to know where a character comes from, but it's another to actually BE that character. Having their skills at your disposal gives you a deeper insight into what it's like to be this character. Of course, we can't experience for ourselves the loss of Charlie or take on the strain of remaining a noble soldier while hatred plays your forced muse.

We CAN, however, slip ourselves into Guile's camo and wield his sonic boom. The more we learn a character and turn to them as an ambassador for the Street Fighter experience, the more influence this character can have on us. Suddenly, we are more sympathetic to Guile's mission. We are right there with him when he grips a fist in agony after a time-out loss. After Guile toasts to a temporary victory, speaking to his friend's tombstone, the word 'amen' may be on the tip of your tongue.

Then again, your experience owning a character in a tournament fighter probably isn't so dramatic or in-depth. At the very least, you'd echo a sound bite or mimic a mannerism when you're feeling particularly proud of a win over a real-life friend.

Movies, TV, books, etc. can do a lot to give you an in-depth look at a character. They can weave words and images, or make the character a consistent part of your life as you follow their journeys. Each medium has an advantage over the other to pull off the same narrative goal. Video games are distinct in that they are capable of saying, "You know what? Here. You take control and see what it's like." It's up to the game from there to use perspective, control, gameplay, scripted events, and much more at its disposal to tell its story.

Of course, not every game is an epic tale or descent into the very soul of its protagonist. Then again, what a game is or isn't depends entirely on the imagination of the gamer.

Portal and Inception

Yes, that Inception. Get out your mammoth horns and spinning tops, because we've got to go deeper. Toss in thinking with portals, and we've got today's topic.

As any Internet cynic will tell you, the term "inception" actually has nothing to do with dreams, much less the act of entering one. In fact, the movie dedicates a whole scene to establishing the true definition of the word. Simply put, inception just refers to the point in which something begins. In the case of the film Inception, this thing is an idea. The goal of the movie is to change a person by planting an idea in their head by going into his dream. The inception of this personality change is the point in which he sees this planted idea.

Are you following me so far? If not, that's okay. All you need to know is that in the movie Inception, the characters manipulated a person by planting an idea in his head without him knowing. When this idea came to his attention, he felt like he came to this idea all on his own. As a result, the idea feels like his own and he has no instinct to resist it. He doesn't feel like he's being told what to do. As I watched this movie and heard these concepts explained, I wondered why this felt so familiar. Naturally, my answer ended up being the same old: video games.

In particular, I thought of Valve's mega-popular and memetic Portal. You see, the goal in a typical game is to present challenges to the player and lead them to overcome those challenges. Therefore, the inception of victory will occur while the game is being played. Portal is a great example because the very structure of the game is to undergo this process of challenge, discovery, execution, and victory over and over and over and over again. Really, I could use any game that involves puzzles or strategy. Portal is just easier to talk about and more well-known.

Your first experience with portals may be disorienting, but you'll get over it quickly.

In Portal, you play the role of a human "test subject" who must solve puzzles. The puzzles are solved when you manage to reach an elevator somewhere in a given room. This elevator is often placed out of reach and locked behind some door. You are armed only with  a portal gun and knowledge of how to use physics to your advantage. This portal gun literally shoots portals that you can set into walls, floor, and ceilings. You can only have two portals out at a time, colored orange and blue, and they only lead to each other. Thus, if you want to go somewhere far away, you can just shoot one portal ahead and one nearby. Walk through the nearby portal and you'll be wherever your further portal ended up.

This is all just the tip of the iceberg for Portal's complexity. However, it's enough information to pursue my topic. You can probably already see how Portal can be clever, even devious, with its puzzle designs. In any given puzzle, you already know all the information you need in order to solve it. Say, for instance, you need to place a block on a button in order to keep a door open. However, the block cannot reach the button. Then you may wonder: Since you can pass through portals, can you carry the block through with you? You can! You drop the block on the button and you're free to the elevator.

These moments of epiphany and triumph are common in Portal. You'll find yourself often saying, "Maybe I can... aha!" All it takes is for you to remember one little thing, try that little thing, and you come off with a great and revitalizing victory. Jane McGonigal refers to that feeling as a "fiero moment." "Fiero" is an Italian word loosely translating to "Pride." I suppose there's a cultural wiggle room there that allows us to define fiero also as a realization of one's own potential. The closest we have in the English language is the concept of not knowing one's own strength. But let's combine this with what we already talked about. You only came to this feeling because the game herded you to that victory by handing you everything you needed to succeed.

So, do we feel "played" by the game and its manipulation of our feelings? Or do we consider that our effort and problem-solving are still worth something? It doesn't help that the tests are overseen by a snarky AI who tries to mess with our head the entire way through. Well, it wouldn't be me if I didn't take the rosier approach. You still had to figure out your situation, you still had to make the most of your abilities, and you still had to execute the problem-solving. Sure, it's a video game, and problem-solving in a video game isn't exactly like real life, but that goes both ways. In real life, you might end up not prepared enough to solve a puzzle. On the other hand, a problem in real life might have several solutions, some of which easier and better for all involved. And to be honest, I'd rather feel prepared and wrong than in over my head and wrong. For all we know, "being prepared" can translate to one's ability to improvise. And you will be shocked at how well anyone can improvise.

The sequel adds even more complexity to the mix.

Now I'll turn it over to all of you. What stories do you have of great success and realization of your potential? This applies for in games and off. Successes outside of games, more importantly. If a success in a game can remind you of a success in real life, well, chalk that up as a game learning experience.

I really do hope that this discussion can help you rediscover something awesome about yourself. There needs to be more awesomeness going around the world. And if it does so happen that this post leads to some great revelation, you can thank inception for that. If you can't tell, I want to make the world a better place, one person at a time, starting with fans of games. If and when I accomplish this positive change, the inception of that change will be you reading these posts and being prompted to think on them. I've probably harmed my chances by admitting to it, but it's all for the sake of another point.

"Performing inception" is a real thing. It might not be as direct as in the film, but it happens any time anyone tries to be persuasive. The key is to be discreet, agreeable, and not have the other party feel like they're being told what to do. Think of one standout time that a game performed inception on you. Further, one time you may have performed inception on someone else. It's more common than you think.

I do apologize for the brevity of this particular post. I really did intend on just talking about Portal and Inception. My mind just goes wherever a deeper topic may present itself. In this case, talking about fiero moments. Look on the bright side, you got two posts today.

A discussion within a discussion.

Rock Band and Rising to Challenges

A while back I attended a birthday party. One of the activities going on in that party was a game of Rock Band. I spectated, one thing lead to another, and I ended up with a guitar. I have not extensively played Rock Band or Guitar Hero or anything like that. I get the concept and know the controls, but I've never really gotten into any of it. I figured hey, it would be good for a bit of fun.

I was instructed to play Bass on Easy or Medium. Since I was among a rowdy bunch on a birthday night, I knew it had to be Medium. After all, people were showing off on the drums so I figured I'd help feed into that sense of bravado.

For the uninitiated, most guitar games work by having you flick a switch with one hand while holding down one or more colored buttons with your other hand. You can press the colored buttons all you want as long as you have the right one pressed and you strum as prompted by the game.

When I first got up there, I had my fingers on each button and figured my hand-eye coordination was good enough to use all four digits when necessary. It worked out just fine at first, but as the song got faster and more complicated, a sense of panic set in. I found myself abandoning use of my pinkie because I was the most confident in my middle three.

This lent itself to some problems. With four buttons and three fingers, I was okay until the game called for the button I was not covering. I had to quickly adjust my grip to cover the three buttons that included the one I wasn't before. As a result, I kept on bumping from one end to the other, covering either the first three buttons or the last three. I did well enough, coming out with 90% or over, but I still desired more out of my performance. This shifting didn't feel right.

People, I have noticed, have varying reactions to challenge. On one end, people can lock up or self-sabotage in the face of challenge. This way, they take all the unknown out of a situation and ensure failure. All pressure is off and the person in question can just coast into the inevitable.

On the other end, a person may see a challenge and shed their inhibitions. Not ALL inhibitions, just the ones related to completing said challenge. When that happens, the person focuses not on the results of attempting the challenge but rather the actual process of making that attempt. And if all you're thinking about is what you have to do, you won't be hung up on any what-ifs since that would thinking too far forward.

In my case, the first few songs gave me enough practice to develop muscle memory. Said muscle memory was like a fun new tool for me to use in my quest for Rock Band stardom. I wanted to use and improve on this muscle memory so I could keep getting those warm feelings of intuitive play. The actual play became more important to me than whatever results I came away with. And wouldn't you know it, my performance improved anyway.

Once I was comfortable with the Rock Band flow, I was able to bring my pinkie back into the game. I now had full coverage of all the buttons. I no longer had to choke up and down on the guitar and remember where my fingers were now positioned. I could just press down and be done with it. I finally felt like I was doing it right. I had fun, even when I tried a few on Hard mode and utterly tanked.

It felt really good to challenge myself, rise to that challenge, and come off more skilled and confident because of doing so. This rings true to everyone. We have all been challenged by games and overcome them by wanting it enough. We learn what we're up against, we understand what we have at our disposal, and we really apply ourselves to combine our capability and our knowledge to come out on top.

Now how great would it be if we could call on that determination and give such an effort for other things in life? I'm talking about the job seeker, the promotion-earner, the would-be romantic, the test-taker, prospective parent. You might think it isn't the same since video games are programmed for success to be a viable outcome. Well, I'm here to say that real life isn't that much different. Succeeding outside of a video game similarly requires you to assess what you can do and to be honest about the challenge you face. Understanding what you're up against and seeing yourself rise to face it is a universal concept, not just for gaming.

That said, I now leave it all on you. The next time you see a challenge in your way, putting on your game face just give you the drive and motivation to see it through.