While reading Play Between Worlds by T. L. Taylor, I was primarily looking for insights into the different kinds of play experiences, especially anything involving identity, community, or connection to real life. Here are some of the passages that provoked the most thought for me.
Research Method
This work is based on numerous player hours logged in the game (over several characters and several years), membership in guilds and a variety of social networks, reading and participation on player-run bulletin boards, meeting in-game people off-line, attending a Fan Faire, and fairly active reading and keeping up-to-date with map sites, databases, comics, as well as formal and informal conversations with players. (17)
It's always interesting to me how researchers set up their research and go
about it. Katie Livingston Vale, another MMO
researcher studying World of Warcraft (here at MIT), decided not to play the game and
instead looks at that virtual world as an outsider. One advantage of not playing
the game is that Vale is not confined to a single person's play experience and
can see certain things more objectively. One advantage to Taylor's approach
is that she has a wealth of personal experience to draw upon. The way Taylor
talks and thinks about Everquest gives her credibility amongst players.
Researchers Focused on MUDs and Graphical Worlds
Cherny 1999, Dibbell 1998, Jakobsson 2002, Kolko 2000, LeValley 1999, Mortensen 2003, Pargman 2000, Reid 1996, Schaap 2002, Schroeder 2002, Schroeder, Heather, and Lee 1998, Suler 1996, Sundén 2003, and Turkle 1995 (24)
Player Interdependence, Community
Interdependence is built into the very heart of the game, and from the onset players can see the benefits of cooperation. (32)
It's interesting when a developer decides to force players into collusion. Then, the extent to which players are forced to collaborate into the kinds of collaboration become most interesting. Most MMOs have healers and tanks and similar classes that rely on each other, but they also have well-rounded classes for soloing and general self-sufficiency. What would a game be like with no self-sufficiency? Do most players either play socially or alone most of the time? Do most players switch back and forth frequently, grouping sometimes and soloing others?
I have only seen a request for help turned down a handful of times. Whether for altruistic reasons or to demonstrate power, players typically help out each other as much as possible in these kinds of situations. (33)
Why do they help so much? I should say "why do we," because I do it too. Because it's easy? Because we think they'll get status or favors in return? Because it feels good? Because we're trying to do the right thing? Because we feel we are investing in an identifiable community?
We can see in the shift from the gift to market economy around buffs how the design choices -- combining very powerful, highly sought-after spells with scarcity -- has produced a companion affect in social behaviors. (59)
Whereas players used to run around buffing each other for free, now they expect payment to compensate them for the use of scarce resources. How does that change the way they game feels to players? Does it still feel like a community (if it ever did)? Does it feel less friendly? Or, maybe acquiring buffs involves less guilt now that players can simply pay for it rather than imposing on spell casters for gifts.
In the past people often gathered around popular porting spots. They were not only the places for picking up rides but for finding buffs, safely resting surrounded by other players likely to help out if something attacked, or simply a convenient meeting spot. With the automation of porting and the introduction of centralized transportation zones like PoK and the Nexus, the regional gathering places died, as did the social life around them. (62)
The community in those locations died, but is this necessarily bad? If the people who frequented those communities now go to centralized transportation zones, they are adding to the communities there. Maybe large, impersonal "communities" already existed, and creating more of them doesn't improve the play experience much, but there was something valuable and unique about the smaller communities.
Online Status, Hierarchies
Several researchers have explored the ways data systems and hierarchies express themselves in virtual worlds:
Donath 1999; DuVal Smith 1999; Jakobsson 2002; Kolko and Reid 1998; Reid 1999 (118)
Community Intelligence Tools -- Built into the Game?
[Allakhazam] provides links to maps, detailed character information, play guides, region information, and equipment data along with long lists of "new" and "updated" items being catalogued. (81)
Knowledge about the game simultaneously circulates through gift, status, and reputation economies (Kollock 1999; Sun, Lin, Ho 2003). (83)
Given that most modern MMOs have a vibrant out-of-game community, to what extent should designers attempt to bring some of that community back into the official game space? What would World of Warcraft be without Thottbot? How would it be different if Thottbot functionality was integrated into the game from the beginning? Is it valuable for players to feel like they are circumventing the game's challenges.
(Taylor also suggest looking at Pierre Levy's work.)
Social Burden
Experienced players also can feel that they sometimes spend more time helping out guildmates or working to keep guilds together than they do actually playing. This can sometimes result in people creating new anonymous characters [...] to allow them to play without the burdens their social networks may bring. (50)
This is an issue both inside and outside of games. I sign off of AIM/Trillian when I really need to get work done and keep getting interrupted. Sometimes I won't pick up the phone if I'm in the middle of dinner or my favorite game/TV show/movie. Designers should ask themselves: does my game allow players to disconnect from their social burdens? There are arguments to be made for both choices (yes it does, no it doesn't).
Online-Offline Social Networks
It is not at all unusual to find players helping newbies they know offline by giving them some money, items, or, just as important, crucial game advice and tips. Beyond game objects and knowledge, out-of-game relationships give players an instant social network in the game. (53)
These off-line connections also provide unique situations in which people sometimes play together in the same shared physical space, where the benefits of instant easy communication or handing off keyboards, if needed, are also apparent. (54)
Bart Simon (2004) lays out [...] the range of ways players may be oriented to the game moment: playing with others, playing next to others, playing with others online, playing alone. (156)
Never underestimate the importance of an instant social network. If there is a game that several of my friends are playing, I am much more likely to play the game. Part of the reason for this is that the game will frequently be on my mind because my friends will frequently be talking about it; this is effective word-of-mouth/viral marketing. Part of it is the implicit recommendation -- if they're enjoying the game, it must be a good game. Part of it is that the game is probably actually better with friends. When this game can be played on a cell phone, it will be on my mind that much more frequently. My friends are more likely to show me updates like recently acquired equipment when they can just without their cell phone and pull up their avatars. And if I ever see them playing together (instant, easy LAN party), the game experience will seem/be that much more compelling.
Is Massive Always Good? (160)
Might there be ways -- structural, economic, organizational -- in which smaller game worlds are at an advantage in exploring participatory practices, innovative forms of government, or even radical design challenges more easily? (160)
Stepping back from massive could definitely be a good thing. My play experiences are most meaningful when I have repeated interactions with a smaller group. This group can be both people I get to know after meeting online or who I already know from offline. If someone who knows me and will remember me can witness my triumphs and defeats, and even contribute to them, the people and the events both become more meaningful to me.
Serendipitously, if my online interactions are with a smaller group of people I see regularly, I will care more about who those people are and be more likely to virally market the game to my existing social network.
Distinguishing Casual Gamers from Power Gamers
One [power gamer] suggested that average players do not confront failure as a learning opportunity in the same way that power gamers do. While it is certainly not unusual to hear even casual gamers talk about trying something a few times to "get it right," the level of attention power gamers give to understanding mistakes is notable. (74)
In the wake of the
report that casual gamers actually spend more time playing than was generally
assumed, I find myself seeking alternate differentiators between power and
casual gamers. If time spent in a single play session is not the main indicator,
maybe total time spent playing is? Maybe the level of concentration is different
for the two groups? Is this even a useful distinction -- casual or power? I've
played both ways myself, depending on the game and on my mood. Do most people
play the same way most of the time?
Blurry Lines between Online and Real Identities
In nongame virtual worlds users often find the lines between their off-line and online self fairly blurry (Taylor 2002; Turkle 1995). My sense is that while this happens much less in EQ, in large part because of its "gameness" allows for grounding its own intentionality -- it is never just about identity play -- avatars continue to present themselves as evocative vehicles for identity and MMOGs offer some unique possibilities. (96)
How is an avatar different if it's in a game or if it's not? An avatar in a nongame virtual world probably represents you to other players but doesn't affect the actions you can take in the world. As soon as the avatar starts to have unique abilities, the virtual world starts to feel like a game.
Sharon Sherman (1997) has noted the development of "social power" that men obtain through time spent perfecting gaming skills. (103)
I'm not focusing on the gender issue, but it's interesting to think about games as ways of demonstrating competency. I wonder for what percentage of players is social power a main motivation.
Katink described her relationship to the gear her character wears saying, "I'm proud of myself. I have no problem with people inspecting me [...] because you know, I've worked hard for what I have." (103)
Is this pride connected to social power? Is it just an inner feeling of accomplishment, totally separated from power over other players? If I game allowed players to compare their avatars with each other but not to affect each other within the context of the game, would social power still be a factor?
.Sig Signature Files Extend Game Identity to Community Forums
Knowledge, and by extension the speakers themselves, can be authorized through these kinds of public signals of status. (104)
They become a method for users to draw continuity between virtual spaces (game and "off-site" communication forums) and lend legitimacy, authenticity, and authority to their words. (104)
To a certain extent, whenever anyone posts anything online, the challenge comes up of how to convince readers to trust or care about the post. Calling on in-game status is a direct way to make the legitimacy claim. What about posting net worth or college degree or military rank? How far would a community of people go to convince others within the community of individual merit?
The Connection between Body and Identity
Bodies are not simply neutral objects that have no bearing on our experience but act as central artifacts through which our identities and social connections are shaped. (117)
[Researchers Focused on Body/Identity:] Bourdieu 1984; Featherstone, Hepworth, and Turner 1991; Foucault 1979; Goffman 1959; Grosz 1994; Mauss 1950; Shilling 1993; Turner 1996; Williams and Bendelow 1998 (117)
We communicate a lot of information through body language. In general, avatars
selectively limit that communication. As Scott McCloud explains in Understanding
Comics, making a character more iconic allows us to more easily project an arbitrary
identity onto it. Does limiting body language allow players more or less freedom
in shaping online identities?
