Play time: 1:45- 4:00pm

My fears were realized after the last play session. My computer still overheats. I really do think it is a problem with the age of my computer. Sadly, I had to manually shut down in the middle of the game twice. But this time around, I had almost a solid 45 minutes of playing before it overheated again (mid-battle).

Before I played today, I was reflecting on the process of creating my avatar and the first two quests that I accomplished. I sent a message to my friend, who is a big WoW player, with a really positive attitude. I told him “I feel like a badass!” And I kind of do. I made sure that my character reflected choices that I would make in the real world, like having a ponytail and trying to stay away from other frivolous decisions. I realized that while I was projecting some characteristics of myself onto the avatar, I was also trying to create an ideal persona in this fantasy world (Waskul & Lust, 2004). While my skills are still growing, I feel that this hunter class blood elf is a mixture of what I think are my best attributes of various points in my life.

And then I really started getting into playing and I found that while I could be an explorer, the beginning of WoW is to push every player to experience the game as an achiever (Bartle, 1996). It depends on how the player tries to accomplish their quests. I had quite a hard time trying to navigate at first, so I would purposefully move with the map superimposed over the screen. One thing is for certain. I am not a socializer. After playing for a couple hours, I have had offers from a couple of players to join their group and I have ignored them. This could be a reflection of my confidence in my own skill set; it could also be a reflection of fears about being a female with a female avatar. Or it could possibly be a part of myself as the person directly influencing myself as the player making decisions for myself as the persona (Waskul & Lust, 2004).

Bartle, R. (1996). “Hearts, Clubs, Diamonds, Spades: Players Who Suit MUDs”. Journal of MUD Research I.

Waskul, D., & Lust, M. (2004). Role-Playing and Playing Roles: The Person, Player, and Persona in Fantasy Role-Playing. Symbolic Interaction, Summer 2004 27.3, pp. 333-356.

Play time: 5:45- 7:15pm

I started out playing WoW today in reflecting on the idea of persona and player. This is a concept from some of my research on role-playing games that I thought would be a great intersect for starting to play and creating my avatar. And then…

I don’t know what exactly is wrong. It may be how old my computer is. It could be the amount of time my computer is running. But every time I have gotten into the swing of things, my computer overheats. In an hour and a half, I was only able to create a character (a little too quickly might I add) and complete two quests. During this time as well, I have to manually restart my computer four times and wait for the processor to cool off. I guess this could also be a glimpse into how games like WoW were played on early versions of personal computers and laptops. Personally, I am not a fan of the fact that I need a better fan.

The highlight of this unexpected turn of events was the opportunity to watch the beginning sequence of the game a few times. I was a little confused in the beginning because I have friends that play WoW and they let me watch over their shoulder in the past. And this looked nothing like what I had seen before. I kept getting distracted by the dirigibles in the sequence and the some of the aesthetics. And by distracted, I mean I was a little excited. I wrote my senior thesis on steampunk material culture and identity. All of a sudden I open the game and I am seeing flying airships and brass detailing on the motorcycle and sidecar! Not going to lie, I want to see how this aesthetic is tied into the overall aesthetic of the game. After recently seeing a terrible attempt at steampunk (I have a rant on randomly slapping gears on things and calling it steampunk which I will save you from), I am a little nervous. But still excited to see how things go in the future.

Here’s hoping my computer will let me play longer next time!

Play time: 10:30- 11:30am

In this last play session, I decided to do things a little differently to escape the monotony of the game as I have come to know it. Once is took all the supplies from the house, I decided to exit and roam the forest to see if there was a new path for me (other than being lost and going in circles like in the past). Sad to say there was nothing new to discover in the woods and I entered the house to yet again be lost in a maze.

With how many times I have gotten lost in the game, I question how spatial the game narrative is (Murray, 1997, pp. 79- 83). Even if I was using a map, I don’t think it would have been that helpful to me. I had previously tried to keep in mind that this was a navigable environment. But in paying closer attention to the way the directions were given and generated, I do not precisely understand how the space is being navigated. Are the directions given based on a ‘true’ compass or are they simply in relation to how the player is standing or facing in the space? I find that I have focused so much on these questions during this play session because I have (unfortunately) died so many times playing that I am no longer engaged with the dramatic elements of the space (Murray, 1997, p. 81).

I decided after I finished playing to return to the manual. I was so impressed by the page of tips for novices, but now that I have played I am not so enamored with the way that the tips are given. The tips were helpful at first, but with the way that I was digging into the narrative, some of the tips seemed to be over the top or extraneous. What is frustrating as a player is the manual gave so many examples of scenarios that I never encountered during my playing. It was frustrating and made me ask what I was doing that was so wrong that I couldn’t move forward in the game. This being my experience, I think I will take a break and try to play in the future before I give an opinion as to my like or dislike of the game or text-based computer games.

Murray, J. H. 1997. “From Additive to Expressive Form.” In Hamlet on the holodeck: The future of narrative in cyberspace. New York: The Free Press, pp. 65- 94.

Play time: 1:30- 2:30pm

Now that I have become accustomed to the game, I find that there is very little variation to what I am able to do. I start the game, I go into the house and take everything I can carry. I move a rug and open a trap door that is then shut and barred by a creature that is in the house unbeknownst to me. My sword glows, I kill the troll. I have been able to pick up on the tiny details of the narrative that I constantly interact with that I have begun to get bored.

Reflecting on Jenkins’ concept of embedded narratives (2006, pp. 181- 183), I see that there is a narrative within the game that a player must navigate. But I feel utterly lost as to what the objective of the game or the end of the narrative is. Embedded narratives should communicate significant information (Jenkins, 2006, p. 182), but how can the player understand that piece of the narrative as a whole when there is no detail given by the designers to communicate why this portion of the narrative is significant to the narrative and the objective of the game? Or am I just missing it completely?

My search for new information in this game and new places to explore have brought me to believe that there is no end in sight for me as a player in Zork. I have not found any information that leads me to new locations (other than being lost in a maze) that would point me in the direction of ‘winning’ the game. Will I be doomed to roam the forest of Zork for the rest of my gaming experience? Or will there magically be another piece of the narrative puzzle that will reveal itself over time?

Jenkins, H. 2006. “Game Design as Narrative Architecture”, pp. 174- 184.

Play time: 6:30- 7:30pm

That’s right. I said it. I hate mazes. This is the second time in a row that I have gotten stuck in a maze. And they just pop out of nowhere! How does a maze appear in the middle of a cellar!?! I don’t know the answer, but I experienced it! The sheer frustration of playing this time…

But in experiencing this frustration, I was reminded of the frustration that Jenkins (2006) mentions that emergent narratives mimic from real life situations (p. 183). But this experience just highlighted the fact that Zork, at this point, has only been unstructured and frustrating. I have done nothing but get lost, get robbed, or die. My only want, need, and desire as a player, and character within the game, is to survive. Yes, every choice has its consequences (Jenkins, 2006, p. 184), but it seems to me that the majority of the choices I make within my game’s narrative leads to the same consequence.

One silver lining to this play session was the fact that I am learning from each of my previous play sessions. The overall narrative of Zork does not change, so I can quickly find all the items in the house and move on to the next task I set in front of myself. Previously, in the maintenance room off the dam lobby, I accidentally drowned by pushing the wrong button. This time, I was able to turn the light on in the room before I pushed the wrong button again and drowned. The things you learn!

For my next play session, I almost want to set a goal for myself to not die within the hour. But in all reality, I will be lucky to last fifteen minutes. I have figured out that, personally, drawing a map does not work for understanding how the game world unfolds and simply confuses me with what I could be doing instead of what I should be doing within the game.

Jenkins, H. 2006. “Game Design as Narrative Architecture”, pp. 174- 184.

Play time: 4:00- 5:00pm

I happened to play with a friend looking at the screen over my shoulder. I had no idea how this would affect me. But boy did it! I seemed to be self-conscious of what moves I would make. And at the same time, I felt really empowered because I was navigating the game that my friend had no clue how to walk through. All while having that little voice over my shoulder saying “This seems really frustrating” or “Did you die again?”. It really did not help when I reached the maze for the first time ever (and proceeded to get a little lost), and my friend was watching and laughing hysterically until I was eventually killed by a troll. Again.

With all of these comments from my friend watching me play, I started to question whether her comments could be considered a part of the diegesis of video games. While Galloway (2006) emphasizes that a games diegesis is the game world’s total narrative including on and off screen moments (p. 7), for a game like Zork, would this include any conversations regarding the game between player and player or player and observer? Does having a lack of visual or auditory ques and clues for the player modify the concept of diegesis for a text-based video game?

Having an audience for the first time in playing any of the games for the class has made me start to consider if there should be an additional consideration for the gaming mechanism outside of the computer or machine and the operator or player. Could we also include an external audience? With the many videos and websites of people playing games and tournaments with an active audience watching the players, there is a growing community of ‘watchers’ that can contribute to the overall experience of gaming. All I have concluded from this experience is that I do not want to have someone watch me play until I feel much more confident in what I am doing within the game world.

Galloway, A. R. 2006. “Gamic Action, Four Moments”. In Gaming: Essays on Algorithmic Culture. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, pp. 1- 38.

Play time: 2:30- 3:30pm

I wasn’t planning on playing today, but after our class discussion, I thought I would give it a go. While I did die a few times playing, I felt like this was much more of a successful play session than all others. I previously had been so focused on the items around me that could be taken, I didn’t pay enough attention to the paths that I could be taking. After hearing the discussion today in class, I switched my perspective as a player.

Oddly enough, I did not feel the need to draw a map. Taking Murray’s (1997) discussion of the digital environment into consideration, I feel that the time I drew a map separated myself from the game world. I was so focused on that the map had sufficient detail that I wasn’t paying complete attention to what the game world was telling me. Thus, I was killed by a troll. In not drawing a map, I was constantly utilizing the ‘look’ command to remind myself what paths were available. But in this way, I was also keeping my mindset of the game as being a space that can be navigated (Murray, 1997, p. 79).

With how many times I had to restart the game, and therefore the many times I had to re-enter the cellar, I kept asking myself who was in the house that barred the trap door in the living room. There is no mention of another being in the house. Under the house, there is a troll, a grue, robbers, the thief, and other creatures that I hope not to run into. And to interact with these characters, you must go into the cellar by way of the trap door. Which is barred by someone you never see or is mentioned until you are essentially trapped. Could it be the thief? Could it be a creature that lives in the house? Could it be something that is more associated with the surrounding forest? Part of me does not want to find out.

Murray, J.H. 1997. “From Additive to Expressive Form.” In Hamlet on the holodeck: The future of narrative in cyberspace. New York: The Free Press, pp. 65- 94.

Play time: 3:00- 4:00pm

Welcome to Zork! Also known as the perpetual vortex of walking in a circle with no apparent end in sight. This play session has taught me one thing so far: no matter what game I am playing, there will be at least an hour of pure frustration. After reading the manual, I thought I could try to start playing and try an hour with drawing a map and an hour without a map. This time I didn’t need a map! Because I would move north one move and then try to go further to be told that I would need a machete to go further. Where do I find the machete? In the house? Because all I found was a bagged lunch with a clove of garlic! How is that going to help me jump over a tree, cut through foliage or unlock a grate in the ground!?!

It all started out just fine. I was in front of the white house, opened the mailbox, and read the leaflet. I walked down a forest path, found a bird’s nest with a gilded, jewel-encrusted egg. I couldn’t open the egg, but maybe while I’m playing I could find something to help me open the egg. This was wishful thinking. I got turned around in a circle. Magically, I found my way back to the house and took water and food from the kitchen. To avoid being eaten by a monster, I tried to go down a chimney. To which the game responded that Santa Claus was the only being to go down chimneys. Okay. I can appreciate the humor. That was the last time I laughed for an hour.

After playing, I have a better grasp on how to speak in the game to give commands. I have a tendency to want to use the vocabulary in the previous statement. The game does not recognize half of the verbs as commands. And heaven forbid you mistype a word! I can only have hope for the next play session. Very wary hope.

I find that this play session was very reflective of arguments comparing simulation and representation (Frasca, 2003). On one hand, the game simulates more than represents actions in the setting of Zork. On the other hand, I find it frustrating that while a simulation carries the variations mimic ‘real life’, the lack of structure when using items in the game drives me bananas. As a player, I can appreciate how the game is forcing me to think laterally, moving away from “decentralized thinking” (Frasca, 2003, p. 224). But as a person that likes order and structure… like I said, bananas.

Frasca, G. 2003. “Simulation versus Narrative: Introduction to Ludology.” In Wolf, M. J. P., and Perron, B. (eds.) The Video Game Theory Reader. Routledge, pp. 221- 237.

Time: 6:30- 7:30pm

Being a fan of science fiction and fantasy, as well as having a degree in folklore, I was quite intrigued by the beginning of the player’s manual for Zork. While part of my brain was caught on the names of places and people, I was astonished by the creativity in “The Great Underworld Empire: A History”. The mere fact that the discussion questions and suggested readings at the end of each chapter were even provided gave even more detail for the player to immerse themselves into this world before they even boot up the game. Already, in comparison with my previous experience, I have a strong feeling that I will enjoy playing Zork more than I did playing Civilizations.

PAGE 13! I want to say, before playing, that this page filled with tips for novices is a blessing. Key word being ‘want’. We will find out how helpful these tips will be. But I am finding that, similar to my experience playing Civilizations, I would like to experience Zork in varying degrees. For example, the first tip on page 13 is “Draw a map”. I am considering playing one session without drawing a map and one with drawing a map. Is it truly helpful? Will my horrible sense of direction make this harder on myself as a player? Will the map make me feel empowered as a player because I might have a better grasp on what is happening in the game?

I am also starting to question the commands within the game. How specific do the commands have to be? If I can type ‘u’ for up and ‘n’ for north, will I come to a point in the game where I will have to specify distance? If I have to give an item to a character in the game, but am surrounded by multiple characters, how specific does my command have to be so I do not give an enemy a weapon? Asking myself all of these questions makes me question if I am overthinking this. Which, that is a very good possibility.

In the beginning… I was a naive girl who had never had the experience of playing video games. And now… well, I’ve played a video game now. I felt pulled in two different directions during this process. The first, my highly competitive side, was very present in the beginning of my play sessions. I was furious at the game for referring me to materials that I had no way of knowing where to find them or to what they were referring to the game. While this fury remained somewhat constant (especially during my first two play sessions), my academic side reigned supreme. I was constantly wanting to analyze the game’s design from an anthropological point of view. I asked myself questions constantly of how the game changes from play to play and civilization to civilization and questioned the intent behind the misguided “edutainment” of the design.

In playing Civilization, particularly the version from 1991, the basics of game design have become more concrete in my understanding of gaming now that I have the experience to relate some terminology to. Bratwaithe and Schreiber (2009) emphasized clearly in the beginning of their chapter that game design is reliant on meaningful decisions (pp. 2-3). The game gives the player the option to make meaningful decisions in what advancements to pursue while simultaneously protecting the cities the player founds. In my case, I made the meaningful (and somewhat idiotic) decision to play without using a mouse control. The player can create lasting civilizations without using the mouse control, but the drop-down menus at the top of the screen could not be utilized. And in the case of a new player with no player manual, the hidden menus also hid additional keyboard commands that would assist the player in achieving the objective of the game. Because of my stumbling through the controls and commands in the game, I did not have civilizations that survived, nor do I have an idea as to what the end objective of the game is or how a player “wins”.

In trying to comprehend the core dynamics of the game, I was referring to Sutton-Smith’s (1997) discussion of ambiguity (pp. 297- 298). In Civilization, there does not appear to be a single core dynamic, but rather a few core dynamics that influence the player’s decisions. At times, the player builds a city, trades with foreign emissaries, and focuses on territorial retention at times of war. These dynamics are constantly in flux and the player has to be aware of each major dynamic in order for the game to continue. During my time playing, I was unable to fully grasp the ambiguity of the game’s dynamics because I would be so focused on trying to attack an enemy army and be completely sidelined by an advisor congratulating me on the discovery of the wheel. In early play sessions, I brushed the advancements to the side as a trivial part of the game instead of using these advancements as a way to find ways to strengthen my city and create treaties with other civilizations.

In going forward with this course, I am going to approach new play sessions with an awareness of the lessons these past experiences with Civilizations have taught me. I may still be a naive game player (as I do not identify as a gamer), but I am more aware in the ambiguity of the game, rules, features and design that all lead to the meaningful decisions I make as a player.

Brathwaite, B. & Schreiber, I. 2009. Challenges for Game Designers. US: Course Technology Learning, pp. 1-34.

Sutton-Smith, B. 1997. The ambiguity of play. In Zimmerman, E. & Salen, K. (eds.) The Game Design Reader: A Rules of Play Anthropology.Cambridge, Massachusettes, MIT Press, pp. 296- 313.