How Many Players?
An ongoing debate rages about which is "better": single-player or
multi-player games. Well-known MMOG designer Raph Koster has argued that
single-player games are an "historical aberration" wrought by unconnected
computers.
People, the argument goes, have played games together since the dawn of history
as a way of testing roles and enacting traditions.
Theorists of play like Johan
Huizinga and Brian Sutton-Smith have made similar observations, studying the
ways play is central to human culture rather than set apart from it.
Scholars,
players, and the general public alike have observed how popular multiplayer
experiences, from World of Warcraft
to Facebook, both improve and change
the way we relate to other people. Indeed, one of the tired aphorisms of
today's technology business culture is the promise to help people "connect with
your friends."
Most video games take one of a few tacks regarding play with
others. Some games, like Super Mario
Bros., are solitary, with
multi-player experience limited to spectatorship (BioShock) or hot-seat-style sequential play (Asteroids).
Others focus on competition, whether through strategy (Diplomacy) or combat (Super Smash Bros.), synchrony (CounterStrike) or asynchrony (Scrabulous).
Still others focus on
collaboration (Rock Band) or
co-creation (Little Big Planet).
Recent trends in social networking and massively multiplayer games might
suggest a fourth kind of experience, that of socialization. And many games
include variants or modes that cover solitary, competitive, and collaborative
play.
But there are many more ways of understanding how people relate
to each other than just through solitude, competition, collaboration, or
socialization. Between is such a
game.
Otherness
The concept of the "other" has a long and complex history in
philosophy. Building on the thinking of Freud and Hegel, French psychoanalyst
Jacques Lacan advanced the idea of the other as a key organizing principle of
the self. French philosopher Immanuel Levinas argued that the Other remains
forever unknowable.
For Levinas, the Other serves as a fundamental grounding
for ethics. These thinkers understand Others in a radical way: the other is not
just "someone else," but something infinitely different, so much so that the
chasm between self and other can never be traversed, mended, or united.
From
this frustration comes the concept's power. Unlike collaboration or competition
or indeed solitude, the concept of the Other reminds us that individual existence
is comprised partly from disconnectedness.
It is here that Rohrer's game takes root. Its title, Between, already suggests that the game
deals with the space separating the two players more than the common goal that
appears to unite them (constructing a tower of blocks).
When the game begins,
the player has the initial impression that the second player is unimportant; no
trace of the other character appears on screen. As one completes the
lower-level blocks, this sensation continues, until the reality of the blocks
with secondary colors presents itself.
Here, temporarily, the player feels as
though a collaboration with the second player will be both fruitful and facile:
all that is needed are enough secondary color blocks to allow the solitary construction
of the tower.
But then, and quickly, disappointment sets in: one player cannot
simply request specific blocks from the other; rather, a complex and unseen
process generates shadow blocks based on the structure the other player builds.
This structure too remains unseen.
The resulting experience is where Rohrer's characteristically
sophisticated treatment of human experience through seemingly simple game
dynamics takes root. Both players will likely wonder, perhaps aloud, what kind
of game would make progress so inscrutable.
The two may even try to strategize,
carefully sharing moves in an attempt to trace the edges of the computational
process used to generate counterpart blocks on the other player's screen.
But
this process too has its limits: eventually compound blocks must be created
across multiple screens in the game, increasing the cognitive load of both
players to the breaking point.
Between does not try to
create identification through collaboration. The game aims to create a
relationship between two players that focuses both on the chasm that separates
them as human beings, rather than on a common foe, or one another as foes, or
as a medium for social interaction.
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However, I feel it could have done with some conclusion as to the implications of 'Disjunctive' play.
...Then again, I am happy to draw my own conclusions. But, it's almost jarring to read an article so neutral here!
Ha! I know what you mean. For my part, from the perspective of design, I think this is a very precious design choice, but its one that has interesting promise for a wide range of genres. From the perspective of criticism, I really appreciate that games like Between try to deal with the complex dissonance among people at a time when we're constantly being told how much we "connect."
Additionally, Spore also offers many options to break the disjunctive play. Players can decide to not connect to the Sporepedia or only download content from buddies or specific feeds. I would be interested to know how Sporepedia actual delivers content to players who turn on unrestricted sharing, whether or not it is random or it follows some recommendation filter.
Finally, does disjunctive play just mean creating an experience where the player has little or no control over the system and other players? I think this is a viable design choice that could be taken much further especially in the realm of player identity in games, where a player has little or no control over how their identity is represented to other players.
Some of the losing strategies in Axelrod's tournaments were very complex... so complex, in fact, that they appeared to the other player to be random. The lesson Axelrod drew from this was that if the other player's actions appear to be random, then the other player is perceived to be unresponsive to your actions. At that point, you can do anything, or nothing -- it doesn't matter -- so you might as well always defect. Therefore, a winning strategy (that is, a strategy that elicits cooperation) will have among other qualities the appearance of non-randomness; there must seem to be some pattern to it.
Extending this to a game context, it would seem to me that a multiplayer game where the interactions between the players (or between the players and the gameworld) become so complex as to be perceived to be random would, at that point, become uninteresting. When the consequences of any gameplay action appear to be unpredictable, then decision-making becomes irrelevant; you're just pulling the handle on a slot machine.
Obviously a lot of people enjoy that kind of thing, but it's probably straining the definition of the word to call that a "game."
So does Between run afoul of this phenomenon that too much complexity in the consequences of a player's action eliminates the value of thoughtful play?
Or is that the entire point of Between?
(It's an interesting game that raises questions like these, if nothing else.)
I appreciate your humble candor, and indeed I think that many, many players of Between (and indeed many of Rohrer's other games) would be less generous in their assessment. Instead they might simply call the game broken. As you suggest, art games can reveal some of our unexamined assumptions about the form of our medium, just as formal innovations in the artistic avant garde did for painting and sculpture and poetry.
@Ben
I hear what you're saying about head-scratching over the system, but I think Between goes beyond that into a unique existential territory. This leads me to your last question: I think disjunction is about far more than control of the system, it's also about a feeling of separateness. That said, I agree that identity is an area ripe for exploration.
Between certainly represents an extreme case of disjunctive play, again a precious one. Spore offers a softer version, as you note, and certainly there are other imaginable variations. My understanding of Spore's content filter is very incomplete, but I do believe it uses some sort of recommendation feature, as you also suspect. In fact, if that feature is more like a collaborative filter, then its possible that the game effectively dials down disjunction -- unless it dials it up.
Interesting connection. As I said above in another reply, I think many players will conclude that the rules of interaction in Between are unmappable to the point of seeming random. They are not really random, of course, but the sensation of hopelessness arises. The thing is: as you suspect, that's the sensation the game intends to provoke! Many players will find it disingenuous, and indeed the design is very risky. Then again, that's part of the rhetoric of the game too: a game published by Esquire, accompanying a sometimes unreasonably personal portrait of the artist, about the perplexity of the self... egads.
But, as you also suggest, at the very least Between makes an interesting provocation about how two (or more) people can interact in a game. So even if one dislikes the extreme case of Between, there's still something to learn from it. Still, I think there's much there to like, even if its a kind of liking that runs contrary to the way we normally enjoy games.
1) now-a-days most of my friends aren't interested in meeting at one spot to play console games in the same room,
2) Most online multiplayer games actually lack the communicative aspect of the interaction so the player may as well just play against an AI, the difference is often unnoticable (if the AI is reasonable)
These observations mark a serious unnoticed problem within what has become a big part of the industry, especially online gaming
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Martin_Buber
Also, we should keep in mind that Hegel, Lacan, Levinas and Buber etc. speak about "immediate" encounters with "others", while in video games we first need to survive an encounter with our own representation (a mix of audio-video and controls). Only after being introduced with "ourselves", we can advance into relations with the representations of "others".
I don't know of games that experimented with the disjunction between the player and his representation in the game world.
The problem with this idea is that, much like in reality, it is much easier to achieve disjunctive cooperation than it is to achieve conjunctive play. The lack of communication alone is enough to create a disjunctive game. I've played this game twice and each time the other player had dropped out before even completing the first two rows. I think because there is a natural rift between humans in real life simulating that rift is a simple matter.
Connecting two people is an entirely different matter. Two unite two entities as towards one goal is a beautiful thing and I feel this act is one of the strengths of video games.
I don't have a lot to add, but my reading of this game is that the towers that are being built are metaphors for the two parties' relationship. Given Otherness, our only knowledge of our relationship with an Other is our own conception of that connection and its strength. The fact that each party gets its own tower to build, I think, mirrors our own impressions in a relationship that we are cooperating, but our inputs are different. Sometimes we can build it in our own mind only, and sometimes we need something from the Other, and sometimes our actions influence the Other's conception of the relationship as well.
I don't think it's such an out-there claim to make, since it's clear that as the players understand the mechanisms of the game and their own social interaction better, two strangers will form a kind of close relationship along with their big towers.