Shallow Depths

I'm having a quiet long weekend, and so I've been on a bit of a game binge the last couple of days. This may have been a bad idea, as my shoulder now hates me.

I have another guest review up on Game people, for Endless Ocean 2.

Yes, I really am afraid of the ocean. I quite enjoyed writing about that. Thinking about it now, I suppose I'm interested in the relationship between games and fear. Not so much intentionally scary games, but how elements in games relate to facing fears. Is a virtual world an easier place to deal with things? I suppose Endless Ocean 2 is an example where this applies for me, though I wouldn't say it made me any more likely to seek out ocean experiences in the real world.

I suppose in this case I am using a game to substitute for the real thing, rather than as a transitional stage. I don't think that has to be a terrible thing. And it doesn't mean I couldn't use a game as a stepping stone if I really wanted to overcome a fear. I could argue I successfully used World of Warcraft as a social training ground, though progress there is always ongoing. There is no "quick fix" a lot of the time, and games are only one part of a much larger story.

Over-developed anxiety can have some odd side-effects.  Normally, I'm most anxious about social situations and my issues are not too obvious in other contexts.  But sometimes I do have anxiety spill over into gaming, in the form of unreasonable fear of character death.

Games are often designed to build tension, and that works incredibly well on me.  It's taken me a long time to really feel capable and willing to play some game genres.  I remember trying a demo of Unreal briefly in high school, which put me off just with atmosphere and shock tactics before I even reached the first enemy.  I thought escaping the crashed prison ship was cool and interesting, I just couldn't quite overcome my own apprehension.

In Beyond Good & Evil I just started to experience the stealth sections.  The enemies are not very smart, and if I'm spotted all I really need to do is run away and hide for a few seconds.  It's still early on, and the difficulty level isn't very high.  This didn't stop me from becoming somewhat anxious about loading it up again, knowing I've a lot more tense sneaking ahead of me.

It's difficult to predict which games will have this effect on me.  Monster Hunter is a very dangerous game, but doesn't trigger much anxiety in me.  Bioshock has a lot of atmosphere and is really pushing my buttons, despite death having very limited consequences.  I think a lot of stressful games are worth the trouble, and I will eventually get past my issues.  Just sometimes it takes me a little while to work up to it.

I do continue to get better at pushing past my anxiety problems.  Which is cool, because I was missing out on a lot of worthwhile experiences.  I also think there is a level where I don't want to get better at turning off those impulses.  I want to be able to feel something and get involved in what I'm playing, and that is currently very easy for me.  I am at least very glad of that much, even if it means sometimes having to turn a game off to calm down for a little while.

In the non-fiction comic book Understanding Comics, Scott McCloud talks about how a simply-drawn cartoon character may actually increase our emotional investment versus a more photorealistic character. The theory goes that an iconic representation is a partially blank slate, and we can more easily project ourselves onto them. Tintin is an example of a comic where you will find panels including both detailed background art, and a much simpler, more cartoony character, thus drawing us into the scene.

By this logic, in third-person gaming a cartoony avatar (say, a World of Warcraft character) may be easier to identify with than an avatar rendered in more detail (such as a Heavy Rain character).

It's an interesting idea. As graphics improve, and both characters and environments become more convincing, the possibilities for immersive experiences are also commonly thought to be greater. But I don't think that tells the whole story when it comes to the role of graphics in immersion.

Gaming includes scope for many different kinds of immersion, and a range of ways to define the term. I do think immersion is thrown about a lot as a concept, and is often poorly defined. See the following article for a more scientific look at defining immersion: Jennett et al. (2008) Measuring and defining the experience of immersion in games. International Journal of Human-Computer Studies 66: 641-661.

For me personally there has always been at least some personal investment in a game. Even back when I was a kid controlling a couple of pixels on a screen I remember being torn about the experience. Part of me dearly wanted to keep playing; another part was terrified of dying. I understood the "death" of my pixelated spaceship had no real world consequences, but it still affected me enough that I could even be very reluctant to play when given the opportunity. I think I've always found projecting myself into a game space a very natural and unconscious thing to do. That projection is what I call immersion.

A high level of emotional investment and involvement has been described both as a holy grail of game design, and as a cause of hyperreality and problem gaming (see here for a quick example, though it's not an article I agree with).

There is also the potential for raised anxiety, which I have certainly experienced often enough. I find it very interesting that looking for games (and movies, television or other media) with genuine emotional impact means exposing yourself to feelings often considered negative. And yet, it remains entertainment. I actually find this a very positive thing, and think we can learn a lot from experiences in fictional spaces.

A few years ago I had a dilemma. After years of embracing a gaming and roleplaying lifestyle I knew I needed to start seriously considering how to incorporate more exercise into my life. I wanted to improve my lifestyle, but my social anxiety was making it difficult. I wasn't comfortable with jogging in public, and failed to make myself join any sort of class. I've never been to a gym, and the mere thought of it terrified me. Still does, for that matter. It's an unpleasant loop -- the anxiety makes it hard to exercise, but the lack of exercise can make the anxiety worse.

I spend a lot of time working on overcoming my fears, and I do have some success. But in this case it didn't seem worth trusting my physical health to what can be a drawn out and haphazard process. I needed to find exercise I could achieve at home by myself. I considered whether to buy an exercise bike or other equipment, but was concerned about the space it would take up in my apartment. Then I walked past a billboard advertising Wii Fit, and had my solution.

I know using Wii Fit (and now Wii Fit Plus) can be a daggy thing to admit, both around people interested in fitness, and gamers. Particularly considering exercises like Wii-jogging, which for most people probably seems a bit pointless when they could just do regular jogging. But for someone like me it is the only jogging I've done in my life, and that increases its value significantly.

I've spent a fair bit of time standing up for Wii Fit for helping me with a problematic situation. I also have friends far fitter than I am, who can still get a respectable work-out out of the programme. That makes me feel a bit better. Like a lot of exercise equipment, the most likely issue is motivating yourself to use it, rather than the product itself being useless.

Not that Wii Fit doesn't have its problems. The virtual trainers say annoying, repetitive things you can't turn off, and some of the exercises are more gimmicky than useful. I really wish it would stop obsessing about weight. This has always been about health for me, not weight. I'm currently training for Oxfam Trailwalker in April, so I've been gaining a bit of muscle recently. That commitment has forced me to step outside my lounge room and go on long walks with my team, though Wii Fit does still play a role in training.

The main issue with writing about Wii Fit here, aside from mild embarrassment, is that I don't actually consider it to be a game. It is really more chore than enjoyment, for me personally. My Wii was purchased more as an exercise tool than a game console, and that remains its primary function. Thankfully, I have still had some fun gaming experiences on Wii, which are bound to come up in future posts.

I go by the name Cha, and I'm a Research Assistant from Melbourne, Australia, who also happens to be passionate about computer games.

I enjoy writing about gaming. In the past I have submitted occasional articles to The Age "Screen Play" blog, most notably my article on gaming online with social anxiety, which won their Your Turn contest for January 2009. My other contributions have been a review of Baroque (Wii), and my thoughts on walkthrough writing.

I would like to write more about gaming. What I am most interested in is the place gaming has in my own life, and the personal stories I have to share. Since I doubt Fairfax wants to be swamped with a lot of personal stories about my life, I created this blog instead.

The first few posts will be edited versions of things I wrote elsewhere over the last couple of years, so if they seem a little out-of-date, that's why. That said, I'm not always interested in keeping up with the latest things -- there are some classics I still intend to experience, and if I end up having thoughts to share about them I won't let their age stop me.