Labor & Play

Currently circling around two main questions:

How does our perception of play influence how we value artistic labor?  
AND 
How is labor portrayed through games and play?

“Play” as a term calls to mind the imagination, childhood, and freedom; it carries a certain frivolous quality. Accordingly, play can easily be seen as an inessential and extraneous component of society, one which largely serves to distract our attention from the more pressing functions of the human body within modern society – namely, labor. 
 
Labor permeates our world. And so, when our prevailing view of artistic endeavors is that they are “play” – relegating them to the realm of children – what does that say about how society values art and artistic labor?

Where play does find an “appropriate” place in labor, it’s often where it improves labor efficiency or employee retainage, all to the direct benefit of the employers rather than the workers. Through gamification mechanisms, the structures of games can be readily applied to the workplace as a means of capturing the employee’s attention and engagement and directing it wherever management deems necessary.

And so employee training modules come with corresponding badges and stickers, and reaching certain metrics lets you select from different tiers of gifts in the employee store, and IT will purposefully send phishing emails to test their employees. All of these have taken place in my workplace within the past week, and despite my knowledge of gamification and all its pitfalls, I can’t resist engaging because I want to beat IT at their game, or because I want the cute NYC DEP beanie at a discounted rate. These gentle prods and motivational schemas inherent to game structures certainly carry a more pernicious quality once you’re outside of the magic circle. 
 
How do the fantastical possibilities afforded to game designers by modern technology and computing power, square up to the more mundane renditions of labor within the medium and play’s application to the modern workplace?

Popular early arcade games like Asteroids, Space Invaders, and Missile Command, all attempted to simulate some form of alien invasion or warfare, slotting the user squarely into fantastical simulations of warfare. However, limitations in technology at this stage meant that users could only ever perform a limited set of tasks and functions in a given game ; so although you could face off against different variants of enemies with their own unique movement patterns, the goal was typically singular – you aim to survive as long as possible within a strict rules-based environment. The structures that motivate this type of repetitive work-like behavior inherent to these games find many analogs in the gamification mechanisms employed in workplaces. In this case “survival” takes on a more tangible, economic form.
 
Of course, as opposed to actual labor, the stakes are low with these games – typically a few quarters – and the play is completely voluntary. Nonetheless, the narrow scope of these games already lends them some labor-like qualities, particularly in the clear delineations on user behavior and the repetitiveness of the tasks at hand. This would be more common with early game design philosophy, allowing for – I believe – cleaner, clearer readings and interpretations of this older material as opposed to the more sprawling blockbuster games of today.

But with advancements in technology and in the field of game design, games generally grew more complex, engendering a heightened sense of player agency and decision making. These newer games gradually became less labor-like, and more “fun” – but how did depictions of labor develop alongside the evolution of the medium?

I’ll be referring to Huizinga and Caillois’ definitions of play to introduce a general definiton and framework for understanding games, and will draw contrasts between these definitions and the more colloquial uses employed throughout society. Along the way we’ll discuss the distinction between serious/playful play, alongside heavy references to Flanagan’s Critical Play when discussing the redemptive or more radical potentials in the game medium.

I’d also like to refer to some history of sport and play, specifically to the mesoamerican ball sports of the pre-Columbian era and their place within  indigenous cultures and rituals (thus rendering them non-voluntary and essential parts of society), alongside the development of organized sports out of their more playful and disorganized beginnings  (like soccer in the public schoolyards of 19th century Britain) into an actual world-spanning entertainment industry built on athlete labor.

There’s also room for passing mention to games like Euro Truck Simulator, Stardew Valley, Animal Crossing, and other various “labor” simulators. I think there’s a strong argument to be made that even the most “innocent” of these idle farming simulator games still carry with them the underlying capitalist logic that your cute little farm still has to constantly grow and expand and produce more cash flow. No matter how cute or how friendly the experience may be, it’s predicated on the same market logics that dominate our not-so-innocent real world. Could these games just be sanitizing our world for us, using play specifically to keep the world as it is?

There’s also room to make an example of a “big” game like Skyrim or Fallout (sorry I dont know any similar games from the past 5 years) by exploring NPC behavior and how labor manifests itself within some alogrithmically defined space.

Bogost’s Procedurality

I felt uneasy with Bogost’s centering of procedurality, specifically in how it undervalues the role of play and interaction – the overall role of the player – in the interpretation of media. Although meanings and subjectivities may be embedded in the rules, it is only through playing with the game and poking at its boundaries that we come to some meaning. Everybody brings something to the game, and meaning arises out of that dialogue between the player and the material.

Sicart pushes back on this somewhat in his “Against Procedurality” (2012), a fairly direct challenge of Bogost’s conception of procedurality in games. Sicart argues that the designer is not necessarily the meaning-creator in the equation, and that the players in conversation with the game – playing it – are also central to the meaning-making process. I agre with Bogost in that procedurality can certainly explain how games can promote certain behaviors and lead to reflection from the player. But the other component of that experience is the play, and it felt like that discussion was missing from Bogost’s piece. Whatever meaning is embedded in a game, the personal ethics and politics of the player are integral towards the disentangling process that renders that content into something comprehensible and meaningful.

I particularly loved Sicart’s reference to Tati’s Playtime used to underscore his argument – that structures and architectures motivate certain behaviors and carry certain politics, but it is still up to the individual to engage with this environment, wring the meaning out, and act upon that knowledge. This complements Flanagan’s earlier writings on radical game design, and the post-human possibilities found in the world of play.

With respect to the meaning embedded in games, I’m reminded of the Metal Gear Solid series, with it’s cinematic 80’s-style action hero gunplay and grandiose international espionage scenarios within a world plagued by the ills of neo-colonialism, widespread wealth inequality, environmental catastrophes, and nuclear proliferation. I’ve never felt the games shy away from critiquing the US government or western hegemony, and yet it feels like a game series where it’s really easy to miss that message amid all the cool and hyper-stylized action sequences.

My experiences have also shown me that despite the game’s ostensibly more left-wing political orientation, its’ players readily assign it a meaning based on their existing political and ideological orientations – and so Snake can be a fascist colonizer or an anticolonialist freedom fighter, depending on how you look at things. The whole series seems to be in conversation with Truffaut’s old adage about there being no true anti-war film – that perhaps you can’t depict war objectively through visual media, or in our case interactive playable media, without also glorifying and romanticizing the events depicted secondhand.

As with all art, we arrive at a meaning by interacting with the work, but in the case of games, this interaction is – ostensibly – all the more immersive due to the gamified, structured, rules-based environment in which they’re encountered. However, I think that interactive quality in and of itself does not necessarily make a work more engaging, as witnessed in Brianna’s in-class example of Nox, by Anne Carson, wherein a physical, non-digital work renders the material more immersive and engaging in it’s design than would its’ digital analog. Since a physical book can be manipulated in more immediate and tactile ways than would a digital copy, the format engenders a different form of engagement and immersion between the work and author – one that gets partially lost in the digital format. And so, digitality is not necessarily a shortcut to immersion, but can be an appropriate component of an immersive experience depending on context and application.

Hayles’ writing on digital literature brought this exact parameter to mind, since the multimodel potentials of many of the works listed – namely Patchwork Girl – really render the author as more of an auterist designer than simply a writer. This is particularly applicable to those examples which incorporate art and music and other stylistic components. Many of the works listed were masterminded and coordinated by individuals (if not by very small groups), mirroring the auterist qualities of the cinema of Wes Anderson or Hong Sang-Soo. I thought these examples really laid bare the distinction, or lack thereof, between the role of an author and the role of a game designer – I’d have to place the writers of digital literature closer to game designers on that spectrum due to the greater control they retain over aspects of the finished product. For instance, in how writers generally don’t have ultimate control over binding, font, typeface, illustrations, cover art, etc., while creators of digital literature (especially in the free for all of web 2.0 in the late 90s) encountered greater freedoms in these additional aspects of publishing. This calls to mind the potential liberatory or democratizing potentials of the Web, although I’d argue that those potentials seemed a lot more attainable in the context of late 90s web culture than in the context of today’s.

Graeber Article on Animal Play

What’s the Point If We Can’t Have Fun? (thebaffler.com)

Sharing an article about play that I really enjoyed, although its a bit of a departure from some of the material in class. Graeber wrote this piece on animal play back in 2014, where he asks us to reconsider some fundamental assumptions about biology – like what motivates play in living creatures, and whether that play could simply be end in and of itself. I appreciate how he describes science’s obsession with explaining reality in rational and objective terms, when play can be both fundamental to the human experience and irrational in it’s motivation. There are some definite parallels to our class, although he deviates quite a bit and references figures like Darwin and Kropotkin in lieu of ludic specialists like Huizinga and Bogost.

The article also meanders into chemistry, physics, and metaphysics and asks if play could exist at the most fundamental levels of material reality. Some portions I didn’t find super convincing, but overall it’s a sprawling read that definitely got me thinking about the various scientific and material assumptions underlying our understanding of play.

What’s the Point If We Can’t Have Fun?

My friend June Thunderstorm and I once spent a half an hour sitting in a meadow by a mountain lake, watching an inchworm dangle from the top of a stalk of grass, twist about in every possible…