Shallow Depths

I'm not big on absolutes, so my brain hates trying to determine 'favourites'. So, no 'Cha's Game of the Year', just a bunch of interesting games that were part of my year (including some older stuff). In alphabetical order.

Dinner Date

I'm not sure what it says about me that I was excited about a game involving being stood up for a date. I've been stood up in real life, and it isn't something I recommend, generally. Well, apparently in my case he did eventually show up five hours late, but I wasn't prepared to wait in the rain for quite that long.

I think I've changed since then: now I would stand around in the rain five hours or longer for a few minutes of his perspective. Some people are like trying to catch water with a butterfly net, but it's pretty as it flows past and I can't resist the attempt.

Dinner Date isn't like my overly-flowery melancholy. It's about extreme self-pity and the inner thoughts of someone with messed up priorities. I worry when someone latches onto sex as their hope for happiness and contentment. Sex and romance are cool and all, but there is more to life than a love story – those 'Happy Ever After' fairy tales have a lot to answer for. If someone is permanently unsatisfied without someone what makes them think they will be satisfied with them?

Dinner Date is an uncomfortable game, mostly because it feels true. I recognised at least one person I know while sitting inside Julian's subconscious. I squirmed and wondered if that's really what it feels like. I've done lonely, but not in quite such a bleak and entitled way.

Games are not about fun. They can be, sure. Like my boss, who uses entertainment to switch off from seriousness and favours watching comedies. But in my case I either want to feel something or learn something, whatever that may be. I used to think forgetting the fun aspect of games was a weakness, but it's worth looking at other things. It sells the spectrum of game experience rather short to just slap a fun label on it and be done.

Dragon Age: Origins
My human rogue's beginning was ridiculous, but in some ways it worked. My Warden gladly ran away from the affectations of nobility, but eventually found herself having to return to that life, take responsibility and handle it. That was my story, and involved some genuinely difficult decisions and character development.

I liked many things about Dragon Age: Origins, but it overstayed its welcome. It's very tempting to cloud everything I say about it with negativity, which is probably unjustified. I suppose I always feel like these games could be doing more. Less plasticky faces and Lord of the Rings battles. I get cynical as soon as something tries to be too epic. I do get my preferred small-scale personal stories and at least some shades of grey, but it always comes back to the big bad invading army of inhuman thingies.

(Tangent: I am childishly excited about The Witcher 2. I uncharacteristically pre-ordered the crazy collector's edition. Now, back to being a sensible consumer and not doing anything like that again for the rest of my life.)

That might not actually be much of a tangent. I'm getting used to having unpopular opinions, and preferring The Witcher to Dragon Age is one of them. The Witcher achieves choice and grey morality without the contrived placement of binary options favoured by Dragon Age. Geralt is far more my sort of protagonist, with his unwillingness to get involved in politics or play the great hero, but always getting caught up in shitty situations.

Speaking of, I received a Christmas Card in my email from the Witcher people wishing me a non-linear Christmas. I think I can safely say no one has ever wished me that before, and I was suitably impressed. Actually, it happened too, since my family had a Doctor Who themed Christmas with time travel, and my Dad regenerated – true story.

Okay, that was a tangent after all. Short version: I like Dragon Age, it's hard not to really. But it's not The Witcher, and didn't wish me any kind of Christmas at all.


Endless Ocean 2: Adventures of the Deep

My surprise hit of the year. Endless Ocean is evidence that family-friendly games about animals and such are not all shovelware aimed at people who don't know any better.

Games can be many things, but relaxing is rarely one of them for me, except in a take-mind-off-something sort of way. Endless Ocean is an exception, and lasts much longer than, say, Flower.

My time management (or, perhaps more accurately, my energy management) has been a mess this year. I try to do everything at once, and then fall in a heap and can't do much more than lie around worrying about how much I'm not doing. The value of switching off is not to be underestimated. So, I'm planning to struggle less and remember how to sink under the waves.


Flower, Sun and Rain

This year I finally joined the hordes of DS users, giving me plenty of catching up to do. Flower, Sun and Rain is the stand out so far. I adore this game, but can't recommend it to anyone else because it's actually terrible and my opinion is dead wrong. It's about running an ugly set of polygons back and forward about the place repetitively, looking up numbers in a guide book, and something about exploding aeroplanes and pink crocodiles. I love you, Suda 51.

I like weird. I don't quite understand the fear some people seem to have of not understanding. Possibly because I never claim to understand things, really. When understanding is acknowledged as a process without an end point it doesn't matter how strange whatever you are trying to understand is, and it's possible to relax and accept.

Besides, pink crocodiles aren't actually as weird as many things I see people doing every day.


Fragile Dreams: Farewell Ruins of the Moon

This turned out pretty much as expected. It's a beautiful game. I adore the landscapes and abandoned buildings, the use of colour, and the emotions it plays with. I liked collecting little pieces of memory and trying to fit them together.

I particularly appreciated the little details in Fragile Dreams. Not every dead-end contained an item to pick up – although often they did – but there was usually some other reason to visit: a bone which looks disturbingly human, or invisible ink on the wall from someone who loves doughnuts. I took longer than most people to finish because I spent so much time exploring.

I find there's a big risk with post-apocalyptic games in explaining how the current situation came to be. But in this case it was compelling and felt right, rather than destroying the magic.

Fragile Dreams also gets the ending right. A touch bittersweet, and leaving the details up to the imagination. Perfect for me, probably a little dissatisfying for some.

But, damn the annoying inventory shuffling, constantly breaking weapons, and simplistic fighting. Also, walking down an empty corridor for how long, now? Some parts create an incredible sense of scale, but also an incredible sense of tedium.

So, I suppose, as a computer game Fragile Dreams is a great anime. If I'm to find a suitable year-ending message here, it's the mix of good and bad in everything. I think I'm becoming increasingly okay with that.


Heavy Rain


Ah look, another unpopular opinion. Time to stand up for Heavy Rain again.

It's a game experienced in-the-moment rather than handling later dissection. As I've said previously, it paints an emotional picture rather than a logical one. So, the plot holes aren't my problem.

I've been watching Dexter recently. Season 1 that is, I don't watch television, so I'm behind on just about everything, but after multiple recommendations from people who know what a creep I can be I was bound to give in eventually. (Aww, the serial killer made them think of me, how sweet).

I have a point here. Dexter seems to be partly about bringing emotion to the unemotional. So is Heavy Rain. Sure, Heavy Rain is (at least by theoretical design) full of emotion. But it's in a medium so starved for real connection it might as well be targeting sociopaths. But I'm not sure that's a completely hopeless case - it did get through to at least some people in some ways, and I think that's worth noting.

Still, whatever flaws Heavy Rain has (and yes, there are plenty), they are irrelevant if people aren't in the right place to receive whatever it did have going for it.

I think games have a long way to go, but I'm suggesting players do too. That probably sounds a bit mean, but it's also exciting. I want to be challenged and shaped by what's around me.


Kana: Little Sister

Long non-interactive sections in action games are annoying because, well, I'm there because I want to do stuff, not sit around twiddling my thumbs. But that's a problem of working against expectations rather than long sections of text or cut-scenes necessarily being problematic.

This year, I began to appreciate visual novels. Another Code: Two Memories, Hotel Dusk and the Ace Attorney games were like my gateway drugs before moving on to visual novels proper.

So, Kana: Little Sister. An old visual novel, but it got some attention this year thanks to a (censored) PSP port. I don't know about the PSP version (though I think it would still be good without the sex), but highly recommended if you can deal with incest themes. The story shaped itself to my choices far more than I expected. It also left me a blubbering mess in parts, which even though I'm a highly emotional sort doesn't happen often in games. If I ever see that much feeling in something more interactive I'll be a happy Cha.

My to-play pile (and my to-read pile) is huge, and that's stopped me from seeking out a lot more visual novels. But I am taking recommendations on particularly good ones.


Mass Effect 2

I much preferred the original, but Mass Effect 2 still rates a mention.

My Shepard started off mildly Renegade. Not harsh for no reason, just very uncompromising and willing to make sacrifices for the sake of the mission. Mass Effect 2 shaped my Shepard into something much crueler. Brought back from the dead and forced into working with people she didn't want to, she began to care less and act out more against, well, everything.

In games with a good-evil axis I usually come out mildly evil. Not because I'm a bastard, just because I'm most enamoured of neutrality on the Dungeons & Dragons good-neutral-evil axis. The closest I can get to neutral alignment in most games is acting self-interested, hence usually turning out mildly evil but not baby-murdering insane.

So, Mass Effect 2 is where I gave in and started shooting people just because it was funny. That's the kind of desperation and mental instability my Shepard has reached. Somehow, people still seem to respect her, and not just in a scared of getting shot way. I suppose there is power in strength, even blunt, crudely wielded strength.

It's pretty far away from my usual playstyle. But what I actually like most about Mass Effect is that it reminds me I have a quad. I can hopefully use strength a little more sensibly than my Shepard, but it's nice to remember I have it.


Nier

It's difficult to write something short about Nier (in other words, this probably will be short before I let myself get carried away into a longer discussion). From the moment I turned it on and Kainé started swearing at me I was hooked. Hooked enough to forgive the grind, which is the major downside.

It doesn't take an awful lot to create something new. Nier borrows from an awful lot of places. But throw in a forty-something man trying to look after his daughter, a foul-mouthed intersex swordswoman and an arrogant, wonderfully voiced spellbook.

Yeah, that will pretty much do.  Everything has been done before, but everything is new too. And that is basically why life's worth it.


Honourable mentions

Borderlands - Enough said.

Braid - I'm proud of myself for finally finishing it (even with a little bit of cheating to get the last puzzle pieces). I wrote more about it over on Game People which was good fun.

Kingdom Hearts: Birth by Sleep - Surprised at how much I like it, but don't have much more to say right now.

Minecraft - Something I plan to play a lot more of, in that mystical future where I have time.

Monster Hunter tri - I'm horribly behind, but haven't given up on myself as a hunter just yet.

The Path - More to say on this when I've finished. Why didn't I play this earlier? It's perfect for me.

Sleep is Death - Freaked me the fuck out, actually - too much stress and effort. But I can't help but admire it.

The hardest games to discuss are probably those that are good but not great. I recently finished Enslaved: Odyssey to the West, and yeah, it was okay.

It's tempting to stop there, but 'meh' is a very inadequate reaction to a game with so much good in it. My lukewarm core reaction is honest but misleading.

There are definite high points to Enslaved, starting with the power dynamics between Trip and Monkey. Control swaps back and forth at various points, complicating the master-slave relationship. How happy they are in those roles also varies. Although Trip's vulnerability is over-emphasised at times, I still found it a relatively well-handled, deliciously ill-defined relationship.

I have a bit of a crush on Monkey actually, which has been weirding me out. As much as I love masculinity, this is not my usual reaction to another shirtless, ridiculously-muscular game hero. Am I really that easily manipulated, just by adding in a few moments of ambiguous tenderness?

Ambiguity is probably the key here, with enough character to latch onto, but still with quite a bit of wiggle room. Possibly, as my partner suggested, it's also that Monkey's strength isn't predominantly physical, despite what his physique might suggest.

Monkey is incredibly matter-of-fact about things. I get the feeling being enslaved is just the latest in a series of shitty situations and he's learnt to take them as they come. Sometimes it seems too unemotional, at other times I get it. I guess I'm also a bit of a sucker for held-back emotion - so much anticipation of the flood when the dam finally breaks.

All of this is quite valuable, I think. I want to see games with more nuanced character interaction like this. But it still wasn't enough to make me love the overall package.

Enslaved's other obvious selling point is the scenery, mostly traversing the overgrown ruins of New York. It's very green -- too consistently verdant and oversaturated for my believability-meter, but certainly very pretty.

The ruins are full of little details from the people who used to live and work there, and the landscape tells a story about what happened here.

One detail I wonder about, though: there are a few too many tattered American flags lying around, which probably should have disintegrated by now based on the level of decay of other things. I always find the level of patriotism in games and movies slightly bizarre. I'm not sure if that's just because I'm Australian - are there really that many flags lying around in the US?

Confusing flags aside, it's an interesting landscape, mixing nature, ruins and modern technology. But this is also where the game starts to fight against the player.

The environment invites exploration, and there are even shiny orbs to collect from poking around all the hidden corners. Not always a popular decision, but I happen to enjoy collecting things while I sniff about. Yeah, I know it's silly but I don't care.

The camera is the first barrier to following through on this exploration. It has very definite ideas about where it wants you to go. To be fair, there really is always a very specific way you're supposed to go, but I wanted to look around anyway. There are also fairly frequent points of no return, which cut off exploration options if you happen to select the correct path first try, or perhaps if you try to take out the enemies first and look around more thoroughly later. Sometimes it works out, but fighting first can be a risk.

The scenes tend to be far more restrictive than they look, and it doesn't take much to start banging up against the edges of the path. I longed for either more open exploration within a section, or clearer edges designating where I couldn't go. I understand not wanting to ruin the natural look, but it can be frustrating.

Games like Enslaved create a 3D space with its own rules. They don't function like the real world (e.g., if I could just push those leaves aside I could go another way), and different games set the boundaries in different ways. That means there's a learning process to go through before it starts feeling at all natural, and I guess this just wasn't my usual style. I felt cramped, within what superficially looked like huge and rambling surroundings.

(Tangent: Climbing around in Enslaved made me miss climbing around in the more open world of Assassin's Creed... plus, Altair could actually make mistakes and fall occasionally. Maybe it's time to reconsider my DRM-induced boycott of Assassin's Creed 2?)

Finally, if you explore too far in the wrong direction, the slave headband activates and Monkey dies. It feels quite arbitrary, with travelling a similar distance in a different direction being just fine.

So, I'm left with a game simultaneously encouraging me to explore, while restricting and sometimes even punishing me for it. That's rather cruel. I could pretend it's deliberate and clever -- that this variable balancing out of freedom and control is exactly what it feels like to be in Monkey's shoes. But honestly, it's just a bit awkward. Not game-breakingly awkward, but many little things add up to produce that good but not great vibe for me. The combat's also pretty shallow.

Enslaved isn't a complete waste of time or money, just a bit disappointing. Clearly some people love it, which is always nice. Possibly they didn't fight the game for control as much as I did, or at least they were less bothered by that.

Border House recently posted a piece about the insults players of Facebook games are subjected to.  I don't play games on Facebook myself (well, I clicked my cow a couple of times before forgetting about it, if that counts), but I appreciated the sentiment.  I don't like it when people are judgemental about the recreational choices of others. Or, when all Facebook gamers are lumped in with the ones who neglected to feed their children (clearly a bit more going on there than just FarmVille).

After people who play Facebook games, the most maligned gamers are probably World of Warcraft players.  Although "Go and play a real instrument!" must be up there somewhere, too.

WoW no longer does too much for me, and stopping playing was a catalyst for doing a whole lot of cool things.  I developed positive associations about leaving, and suddenly being able to write more, look after my house better, discover new forms of play and imagination, and so on.  But WoW wasn't stopping me from doing those things previously -- I was lacking in those areas before I started playing, too.  If anything the game just left me restless to do and be more things.

Anything that takes up a lot of time leaves a hole to fill afterwards, and I'd just spent a couple of years killing furbogs training up in focus, exploration, and how life can be more exciting.  Continuing those things in other ways was very natural.  I sort of want to say continuing those things in better ways, but it's not better in an objective way, just further along in a process for me.

So, I've tried not to let leaving WoW turn me into an insulting WoW-hater, laughing at all the lab rats still clicking the button for food pellets.  It's also worth acknowledging the process my WoW days were part of, and how much I needed that safer, more controllable form of human interaction at the time (as a supplement to other interactions, anyway).

An imaginary heckler in the background stands up and shouts that I'm just proving their point: WoW's a game for socially maladjusted losers like me.  They are missing the point, of course.  I have the same social issues with or without a game -- hell, I've had the same social issues for as long as I have memory, the only part that changes is my perception of myself.  And I could still have enjoyed the game without my eccentricities.  The heckler might want to consider their own inadequacies before having a go at mine.  I'm not the one who is broken.

If WoW is enriching your life, providing moments of fun, reducing stress, building more co-operation, or whatever it is you're looking for then good for you.

So... when my partner reactivated his account why did I tense up, get upset, and almost explode?  Why did I even make it my business?  Am I bullshitting about still thinking it's okay to play WoW?  And when did I become a nagging, worrying girlfriend?

Maybe I am bullshitting a little bit.  I speak a basic truth, but I'm leaving out a lot of the complexity.  WoW does have a darker side, though it isn't really black and white, either.  Sometimes it's less enriching, and more a place to hide.  I should know.

Sometimes hiding and escape are important -- taking some time out to recharge, build yourself up again, take yourself away from a problem.  But the longer you hide away the harder it can be to re-emerge, and live openly again.  Small problems can grow bigger -- monsters cast eerie shadows on life when you leave them to grow unchecked.

So, maybe I worry that someone I love might have a reason to hide, and what his secret motivations are.  WoW was once part of a difficult phase in his life, so returning to it triggers my fears about his current self-esteem and state-of-mind.  It's about meeting people, relaxing, and exploring a vast environment.  But it's also been about the pain of long-term unemployment, and similarly problematic things.

I want to help, and even more I want to understand (now, and in the past).  But if my path moves away from something, while someone else's path is circling back again, that doesn't have to mean they are going backwards.  Only they can tell me, really, and I just have to learn more trust.  Trusting that other people can make their own choices without getting horribly lost -- that seems like quite an ask.  All things are processes.

It's Cataclysm week -- the first real test of my trust-building and acceptance.  It's too early to say much about that, beyond fingers crossed.


Postscript:

I wrote this post earlier in the week, and since then there has been more discussion floating around, thanks to a new documentary on game addition.  I think using the same term for psychological compulsion and chemical dependency is problematic, but that doesn't mean problem gaming doesn't exist, of course it does and it's worth trying to understand better.

I have no experience of the extremes, where people go without food and sleep, or otherwise seriously neglect important elements of their life.  It's not something I'm qualified to say much about, but I do want to defend those individuals against being called losers, as Leigh Alexander does.  That's just being flippant and arrogant.

These are still real people we're talking about.  Having problems and vulnerabilities doesn't make someone a loser.  So tempting, perhaps, to look down on those who currently have more blatant issues to overcome and feel superior.  Easier than being supportive.  And certainly easier than admitting that those people aren't actually so different.  Anyone can end up in a bad place.

But I do agree it's no good sticking our fingers in our ears and being unwilling to talk about any possible harm games might cause.  There's a lot of sensationalist stuff out there, but that doesn't mean it's all rainbows, either.

I stopped playing World of Warcraft years ago, and always feel a bit strange when I hear about it now.  On a more emotional day I end up shaking my head in disbelief.  What do you mean they are killing off my chieftain?  And they are trying to make the game easier?  Just how stupid do they want their player base to be, anyway?

And then I remember something important.  So, story time then, in which I am partially an old tauren woman sitting by the campfire and talking about the past to anyone who will listen.

Back in my day I had to walk ten miles through the raid dungeon, and then run a damage simulation programme just to work out my gear upgrades.  In some ways, I wish I were joking about running statistical simulations -- it honestly got to the point where it was the only way to work out if I wanted any particular loot drop.

Other elements of my class were complicated too, and sometimes really not intuitive.  In one case it was possible to decrease damage by using a damage-buffing spell if you didn't understand how the game mechanics worked.  This was all fairly ridiculous.  But it's also a badge of honour, to have been one of those rare Enhancement Shaman who actually knew what she was doing in those days.

My own class/spec was the most extreme example of complexity in World of Warcraft I ever encountered, and I gather it has since become much simpler -- it needed to be.  I get the impression it wasn't really intended complexity, more the result of continually building on things.  Rather like how evolution creates complexity, now I come to think about it.

It got silly, but for Chakwaina sitting by the fire, that's just the way things work.  Honestly, I thrived on being part of a system where knowledge was such a powerful currency.  After spending most of my spare time on the game (or reading up on the game) I became an expert on a lot of things, and Chakwaina became someone worthy of fear.

I used to complain to myself about people who asked for help instead of using the abundant internet resources available.  I used to complain even more about people who did not read up on how to play their class well.  I didn't want a group I was part of to be dragged down by idiots.

Yeah, I never said this was a story about me being nice.  As Chakwaina I had overcome pain and adversity, and become powerful in many ways, but I still lacked wisdom.

Despite my mean streak, I did spend some time helping other people.  I had a guild to help run, and could answer just about any question put to me (and if I couldn't, I could find out quickly).  In my own small tribe, then, I did become a respected elder.

I raided on weekends for quite some time, with another, bigger guild.  Progression raiding happened through the week while I was at work, but I spent a lot of time running the lower tiered raids.  At first this was an honour -- to be allowed a raid spot at all was a big deal, especially as an outsider to their guild.  But over time it became more of a service to others, as different raid members cycled through, and we taught them the fights and helped them gear up for the bigger raids.

It was kind of nifty actually, to watch people come in fresh, benefit from the group's experience, and leave better equipped and more skilled players.  My own guild tried to provide a similar experience for players still leveling.

One day a new Enhancement Shaman joined our raid group.  The raid leader whispered at me that her damage wasn't up to scratch and could I help her out?  I certainly should have been able to help her, right?  I was an expert on Shaman ways.  Just from looking at her gear and choice of talents I had a lot to suggest to her.  Too much to get across in the middle of a raid, and afterwards time-zone differences were a problem, but we exchanged e-mail adresses and I began to put together some information for her.  She seemed eager to learn rather than getting defensive about advice, which helps a lot.

Putting together the relevant knowledge took several pages, but I was rather proud of my efforts.  I happily sent it off.  But in the end it didn't go as well as I had hoped.  I hadn't counted on what I assume was a form of intellectual disability.  I'd had no sense of that from our limited conversation beforehand, and I'd piled on far too much information too fast.  Some elements had been latched onto, many had been missed, and some were misinterpreted.  So much for my communication skills.

I tried to make up for this as much as I could, and keep things slower and simpler.  But in many ways I had already lost my chance to help.  Everything was now extra confusing.  I have a tendency to provide the options, weigh things up and leave people room for individual style and choices.  It is great if you can understand it, but it probably reads like gibberish to some.

So, one of my biggest regrets, as a Shaman and a Warcraft player, is that I let my tribes (and an individual) down thanks to my crappy assumptions.  And when I complain about changes to the game, that's me basking in my own arrogance again and forgetting what I could have learnt by now.

I'm a self-motivated learner.  I'm also highly visual and text-based person, so sometimes I struggle a bit with lectures or group discussion, but give me an essay or a decent instruction booklet and I'll be happy.  Probably part of the reason I still read game manuals.

WoW has been well set up for my kind.  It let me find my own way, and didn't treat me like an idiot.  But if you expected the game to hand you all the information you needed then, yes, you were out of luck.  Without thinking about it, I have been scoffing at all the people with different learning styles, and the people who, for whatever reason, were not capable of what I personally expected from a skilled player.

I have heard a lot recently about WoW being made more accessible for new players.  I regret complaining about this, because really it did need better tooltips and tutorials, even if I didn't need them for myself.

Chakwaina has always been a bit variable, as she deals with demons considerably worse than my own.  As an old woman she has become quite melancholy, and weighs up her choices in life.  We could have been a better leader, and a better friend in many cases.  We were the best fighter we could be, and the best knowledge base, but it doesn't count for as much any more.

Labeling a blog post 'Part 1' was really asking for trouble. My brain likes to rebel at anything resembling an obligation. I've also had a bit of time to reflect on writing, and I get frustrated at how much time it takes to get better. I want to write faster, more playfully and prettier. And while we're at it, I'll have a dancing pony, thanks.

In the end I settle down and just get on with things again.

So, in Part 1 of my unstructured play journey I wrote about bringing a little bit of unstructured play to many things I do, including highly structured computer games. It's taken me a while to work out how important that is, and to stop fighting myself about it.

There is a second journey to explore, as I search for how games explore and facilitate unstructured play in a more deliberate way.

The first game to really make me consider designed unstructured play was Noby Noby Boy. It does have achievements and goals, mostly stretching and amassing extra length as the worm-like BOY, and using those distances to help GIRL grow to new planets. Despite this core objective, mostly I was just messing about, eating things and seeing how many objects I could curl around. And that really seemed to be the point for a change, not just me being unusual.

I can use the term 'sandbox game' about Noby Noby Boy without feeling silly. It's a colourful playground full of effectively toy people, animals and objects. It's hard to explain why I might want to spend time on that, but somehow it's easy to look up and realise I've just wasted a couple of hours trying to wrangle two ends of a long worm-body, and terrorising chickens.

Intriguing (and I think important) though that was, Noby Noby Boy had no staying power. It's possible to get lost for a while in the playground, there isn't much to keep me coming back. The weirdness wasn't a problem, but the severe limitations on what I could do were. Simplicity is fine, but feeling a lack of agency is not.

I came out of that rather unsatisfied, but I couldn't stop squirming. Squirming means exciting ideas, but also worry that they might not ever really come to exist in a realistic form. I wanted my worries to be proved wrong.

Eventually, my excitement proved to be more correct than my worry. Minecraft proves it. Minecraft alpha involves popular unstructured play, and this is incredibly heartening. I would like to have more to say about unstructured games. But for now, this is all about Minecraft. I hope it's not the end of the journey, but for now it's a long stopover.

I have to admit to my own inadequacy here. I haven't played much Minecraft really. Hell, I haven't even touched it since the Halloween patch. Suddenly I might have to consider other people's journeys instead of my own. I'm not cool enough to put myself properly among the Minecraft players. A bit like when I get the urge to listen to trashy pop music for no good reason.

But, even if I'm not currently part of it, it's still exciting. I get to see lots of different kinds of players doing their own things. The builders get a lot of press, at least the ones with the ridiculously impressive and time-consuming projects. But I'm just as interested to hear about the smaller projects, like my friend building a lighthouse. It's all very tempting. I want to build cross-sections of giant invertebrates as a kind of strange Minecraft museum, but I don't really have time. If I ever find someone willing to support me financially to waste time I'll do that :)

Then there are the explorers. Most notably Brendan Keogh's Towards Dawn project. I began as a different kind of explorer, which I mention in my Game People write up. Although I began trying to carve out the shape of my surroundings, the most important thing ended up being to (symbolically) conquer and explore a scary mineshaft from my childhood. In other words, I ended up exploring something from myself.

Of course, simplifying Minecraft players into builders and explorers is horribly inadequate, and I don't think adding more categories would really fix the problem. Such as, the survivalists who feed off fear, the roleplayers (nothing good to point to that I know of, but I'm sure it will come), and the board gamers.

The truth is, I am not qualified to talk about other people's unstructured (or, perhaps more accurately, self-structured) play. I need to go out and discover more of my own.