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论述游戏与玩家想象之间的关系(1)

发布时间:2012-05-16 17:24:22 Tags:,,

作者:Richard Dare

介绍

你还记得自己何时发现视频游戏这个东西吗?我记得,而且我觉得自己发现游戏的经历与许多同年龄人无异。9岁时,我表现得与其他孩子有所不同,对科技内容尤为感兴趣。按照今天的标准,我至少可以算是对计算机感兴趣的人,当时我深深被视频游戏的想法吸引。在我获得自己首台电脑之前的几年时间里,我让父亲带着我逛电脑店,就为了看货架上的游戏。或许你还记得游戏包装盒背面的那些独特描述,比如“你是地球最后的希望!摧毁Zarg Empire,保护人类!”或是“勇敢面对Forest of Auria的恐怖,拯救漂亮公主!”。当然,从专业角度来看,Zarg Empire只是些许方块形状而已,Forest of Auria不过是许多ASCII字符或简短文字描述,但是对于阅读这些描述的人来说,视频游戏可以让你获得之前只能由梦境、书籍和电影提供的体验,你可以生活在充满奇幻的世界中。(请点击此处阅读本系列第23、4部分

对我来说,它们的吸引力在于这些游戏通过其主题、角色和愿景做出的承诺:承诺年幼的孩子能够安全探索夜晚强加给他的模糊、布满阴影的精神世界。它们破除了玩具的限制条件,破除了那种随年龄的增加而逐渐意识到房子旁的阴暗小巷不是地狱入口而产生的那种不满足感。它们满足你回到自己想象中的愿景,即便你已经知道它其实并不存在。

3年前,我进行一项设计,希望它能够帮助我尽快融入游戏行业。我深度发掘游戏,但行业的趋势令我倍感失望,游戏媒体只是不断用所谓的结构化术语来谈论游戏,也就是那些组成游戏的技术元素,比如3D引擎和AI等。我想要看到的是能够用来描述体验的词语。尽管我花了大量时间查阅游戏杂志、网站和访谈,能够找到的用来描述游戏体验的词语屈指可数,可玩性可能算是一个,这个术语的模糊性证明,行业还未深入探究玩游戏过程中的主观体验。

我不断被自己的记忆带回年幼时的那段经历,而且急切想要深入探索,所以我坐在自己的电脑前,写下以上几段文字,用来作为这篇文章的开端。我想要继续下去,对这段记忆进行更为详细的说明,但我却发觉自己找不到恰当的方法。然而,我认为在这段记忆中的某些地方,可能隐藏着更深层次理解游戏和拓展讨论游戏的语言关键点。所以,我开始进行个人探索,寻找所有有关主观体验、幻想和想象的东西。本系列文章便形成此次探索,我希望能够引起游戏玩家和开发者的兴趣,并对他们有所帮助。

我采取的首个步骤是探索游戏媒体,同尽可能多的各种玩家进行交谈,看看我的个人反映和其他人的体验间是否存在某些共同点。这样的研究不能被称为科学性研究,但是我认为,自己努力探索的问题和体验是理解视频游戏的关键。心理学家们只是提出游戏对我们是否有益的简单问题,研究得出了许多相互矛盾的结果,因而几乎可以说是毫无进展。除了评判好坏外,我认为更重要的问题是,了解个人同游戏间的关系,探索个人含义和想象反应。无论我的研究和探索有多大价值,我深信对幻想和个人含义的探索可以拓宽我们思考和设计游戏的思路。

拓宽传统语言

多年以来,游戏行业已经发展出用来描述游戏的语言和术语。这种语言主要分为两类:题材术语和技术(游戏邦注:或结构)术语。题材术语描述游戏的“类型”,技术术语描述组成游戏的技术,比如AI或3D引擎。看看游戏杂志,你会发现多数游戏都是用这些术语进行描述。熟悉这种语言是所有想要成为开发者或硬核玩家的人事的必要工作。许多刚刚进入游戏世界的新玩家用这些术语来展现自己的知识,将自己同他们玩休闲游戏的无知同伴区分开来。我应当认识到,自己也属于这部分人群。

但是,语言是个牢笼。玩家和开发者使用的这些术语会对我们认知游戏产生影响,而且往往决定着我们如何设计新游戏。有些开发者似乎想突破这个术语监狱,用模糊化的描述而不是传统语言,但是却发现缺乏描述他们心中所想的恰当概念,无法将自己的想法变成具体的代码。

要逃离这个监狱,我们需要了解游戏世界在监狱之外的层面,包括还未被灌输游戏玩法语言的孩子们的想法和被我们这些行业新成员在游戏过程中弃之不顾的某些新想法。我尝试在自己的研究中揭露这些层面,我确信许多读者会发现,这些层面也出现在他们自己的游戏体验过程中。

想象的重要性

在同年轻和年老玩家的交谈过程中,我发现前提是游戏对许多人的主要吸引因素(游戏邦注:这种情况在年轻玩家中表现更为突出),也就是游戏角色、主题和形象所暗示的体验。玩家之所以会选择游戏,是因为他能够体验某种幻想中的经历,比如成为赛车手、冒险家或士兵。游戏广告和包装的制作者似乎很明白这个道理,多数情况下,他们会强调游戏中的主题、角色和故事情节而不是其结构描述,但许多以硬核玩家为目标的游戏会专注于用题材历史来描述游戏,比如宣传拥有比《雷神之锤3》更多的多边形或更高质量的三维照明等。我感觉,这种对视频游戏历史的强调是一种劣势,因为它不会让非硬核玩家产生兴趣,而且似乎在宣扬游戏仅仅是运算法则和特效的结合体。

Quake III from theworldofwindows.blogspot.com

Quake III from theworldofwindows.blogspot.com

如果我们阅读上世纪80年代初期到中期的老游戏杂志时,看看在现代的结构和题材术语还未成形时媒体对游戏的描述,我们就会发现当时更侧重于潜在幻想。不仅很少看到“平台游戏”这样的题材术语,而且似乎更强调的是游戏的主题、任务和角色。在某些情况下,这样的描述会让读者产生与事实不符的期望和愿景,他们在真正体验到游戏时可能会感到失望,而如果使用术语并结合截屏就不会出现这种问题。这表明,结构和题材术语的发展还是有一定的价值,至少让玩家可以很明确地了解游戏中会出现的内容。但是,它也有一定的弊端,玩家无法在想象中模拟自己的游戏体验。

玩家对游戏的潜在幻想或许有着某些普遍的主题,比如在竞速中获胜、成为士兵或拯救公主,有些幻想可能会显得更为复杂和特别。玩家可能想体验某些类型角色间特别的相互关系,比如主角和他邪恶亲属的关系,就像《最终幻想9》中的Zidane和Kuja。他们可能想探索两种对立概念间的相互关系,比如战略游戏中民主与专制间的战争或《Black and White》中善与恶的平衡。或者更普遍的是,想要体验特定角色在特定情境中的感觉,比如孤独战士在后启示世界中是个流行主题。有些玩家的主要需求是主题,他们会选择展示自己特定想象主题的游戏。

Black and White from dignews.com

Black and White from dignews.com

年轻的玩家往往将游戏角色和情境视为想象中真实存在的事物,而不仅仅是游戏中的实体。比如,古老《塞尔达》游戏中有个敌人会将自身分成数块,在屏幕中四处飞行随后重组。经验丰富的玩家都知道这个敌人是由多个方块精灵组成,在游戏中面对这种情境时,主要关注点在于把握攻击时机、避开方块的攻击和寻找安全点。换句话说,他会将整个情境视为一个系统,而不是将敌人视为一个角色。但是,有个年轻的玩家在向我描述这个敌人时,显得颇为兴奋,他说有个沙子怪物将自己幻化为沙城暴攻击玩家。这样看来,他视乎更专注于将怪物视为角色,将其视为需要应对的对手,而不是系统。

在知识更为丰富的老玩家中,我们也看到了潜在幻想对他们选择游戏的影响。不止一位玩家告诉我,他玩《文明》是因为自己喜欢管理国家、发动战争和占领世界的感觉。我认识的一位玩家告诉我他体验《文明》乐趣的特定方法:在游戏中创造世界只有两大强力国家的情境,就是他自己和对手,两者都有很高的科技水平。然后,他对自己的敌人发动大型战役,创造“胜负决定成败”的战争。所以在许多游戏中,当玩家以某种特定的方法或创造某种情境来体验游戏时,其作用的可能就是他们的幻想。

从开发者的角度来看,我们可以看说,他们总是改编古老游戏想法的原因并不在于他们没有更好的想法,而在于他们想要更完美地呈现特定的幻想或体验。想象已经成为游戏设计中的主要力量。在游戏行业中享有盛誉的马里奥和塞尔达游戏设计师宫本茂承认,他的灵感来自于自己孩童时探索乡下洞穴和森林的记忆。

游戏角色和主题将游戏和想象深深地联系起来。我们可以看到,许多老玩家创建网站来分享《最终幻想7》中的Sephiroth等许多流行游戏角色、游戏相关的动作、动画电影、漫画和模型。有些玩家还喜欢装扮成自己最喜欢的视频游戏角色。据Steven Poole所述,东京游戏展上出现许多装扮成游戏相关角色的游客。这些证据已经足够让我们相信,游戏能够唤起强烈的情感和想象响应,影响玩家的个人生活。

还有个重要方面我称之为“情感共鸣”,也就是在看到特定图片、角色或人时产生的那种难以名状的情感冲击,这种不同凡响的图片感觉“相当真实”。在我年幼时,这种体验层面令我着迷,尤其是无论你如何提出问题来分析图片、无论你如何研究其背景及其符号关系,你都无法将那种模糊的共鸣感具体化。许多视频游戏的图片有此等魅力,电影及其他形式的艺术和自然世界中的场景也同样会产生这种感觉。

并非所有玩家都有过这些类型的体验。有些人专注于用结构化的眼光来看待游戏,有些忽略游戏中的角色和故事情节,专注于认知和操控游戏对象和谜题的体验。多数玩家似乎徘徊于两种不同的玩法模式之间,其一是外向模式,玩家更专注于游戏中的运动体验和胜利,而不是故事情节或角色,或者在社交游戏中更专注于组成群体来玩游戏,而不是独自玩游戏。其二是内向模式,玩家将游戏当成自我感觉或想象的催化剂。在这种模式中,玩家想象自身进入游戏。需要指出的是,这些只是大致的分类,而且针对的是玩法模式而不是玩家类型。相同的玩家可能会从一种模式转换到另一种模式,这取决于游戏和情境。

人们不表露或承认这些体验另一个原因可能是我们的社会。我们住在极为外向的社会中,内向体验往往被视为病理的征兆。在学校中,内向被视为需要解决的问题而不是自然趋势,没有老师会建议一个活泼外向的孩子应当多保持安静,除非是作为惩罚措施。

游戏时间本身对这种社会公认的看法不具免疫性。我记得在90年代初期,自己阅读过一篇关于划时代RPG游戏《Eye of the Beholder》的评述。评论者花了一整页的篇幅来批判角色扮演游戏粉丝,他认为这是些脱离社会的人。

这种偏见也反映出行业缺乏情感上的理解,但它能够被整个社会认可。在我们的文化中,更趋向于不让视频游戏等商业化媒介对社会和人际关系产生影响。另一个因素是我们针对幻想本身的态度。东西方游戏中所推崇的魔法世界往往被视为是对现实的逃避。所以,这样的体验被主流游戏行业和社会所掩盖也就不足为奇了。

结论

尽管我们的社会抱有偏见,但是上述证据清晰地表明,玩家和游戏间存在着复杂和想象关系,这种关系潜藏于游戏的文学和技术层面之下,融入玩家个人世界及其内心生活。这些体验确实对许多开发者有所影响,但是它们也的确还未成为行业的讨论主流话题,也还未被整合到游戏设计中,这种整合或许将改变行业现状。

那么,我们要如何整合这些体验呢?如果没有进行心理学层面的探索,我们就只能猜测这些体验的本质及其与游戏的关系。而就目前视频游戏的主流趋势和现状而言,进行这样的探索几乎是不可能的。但是,我们可以将它们同心理学已经存地探索这些想法及其与游戏设计的关系。

游戏邦注:本文发稿于2004年6月22日,所涉时间、事件和数据均以此为准。(本文为游戏邦/gamerboom.com编译,拒绝任何不保留版权的转载,如需转载请联系:游戏邦

Games and the Imagination Part I

Richard Dare

Introduction

Can you remember when you discovered video games? I can, and I don’t think that my experience was much different from others who discovered games at around the same age. At nine years old I was not a logical child, technical matters were beyond me and by the standards of today I was probably the least likely person to be interested in computers but I was completely entranced by the idea of video games. Years before I got my first computer, I would make my father take me round computer shops to look at the games on offer. You probably remember the outlandish descriptions of the games on the back of the boxes, “You are Earth’s last hope! Destroy the evil Zarg Empire before it wipes out humanity!” Or, “Brave the terrors of the Forest of Auria and rescue the beautiful princess!” Of course, to the trained eye, the Zarg empire was a number of small blocky shapes that stuttered across the screen, and the Forest of Auria was either a collection of ASCII characters or a short text description, but to the young mind that read these descriptions, video games were a gateway to the kinds of experiences previously only offered by dreams, books and cinema, the closest you could get to living in a fantasy world.

For me, the attraction was the promise that these games held, through their themes, characters and perspectives; the promise that a young child could explore in safety and daylight the shadowy and indistinct mental world that imposed itself on him at night. They removed the clumsy limitations of toys, the dissatisfaction that came with increasing age of realising that the dark alleyway on the corner of his housing estate was not the entrance to the world of ghosts. They satisfied his desire to return there even after he was told it did not exist.

Three years ago I was working on a design that I hoped would speed my journey into the games industry. I was thinking deeply about games and was frustrated with the tendency of the industry and the games press to talk about games only in what I call constructional terms; that is, in terms of the technical elements that make up a game such as 3D engine, AI etc. What I wanted were words that I could use to describe the experience. Despite spending hours poring through games magazines, websites and interviews I could find little referring to the experience of playing, except perhaps for playability, a term which by its vagueness proves that there has been little insight into the subjective experience of playing games.

I kept being drawn to a particular memory and had an urge to explore it, so I sat at my computer and wrote the two paragraphs that begin this article. I wanted to continue, to elaborate on this memory only to realise that I knew nothing more. But somewhere in this memory, I thought, there might be a key to a deeper understanding of games and a widening of the language we use to discuss them. So I began a personal quest to find out everything I could about subjective experience, fantasy and imagination, a quest culminating in the writing of this series, which I hope is of use and interest to gamers and developers alike.

The first step I took was to explore the games media and talk to as wide a cross section of gamers as I could, in order to see if there were any commonalties between my personal reflections and the experience of others. This research could not be called scientific by any means, but the questions and experiences I tried to explore are, I think, essential to any understanding of video games. Little is achieved by psychologists merely asking the simplistic question of whether games are good or bad for us, and the contradictory results of several studies bears this out. What is far more important is to ask, without judgement, how an individual relates to a game, to explore questions of personal meaning and imaginative response. Whatever the value of my investigations, I became convinced that an exploration of fantasy and personal meaning could lead to an opening up of the way that we think about and design games.

Widening the Language of Convention

Over the years, the games industry has evolved an impressive language of terms to describe games. This language has two main strands: genre terminology and technical (or constructional) terminology. Genre terminology describes the “type” of game and technical terminology describes the set of technologies that make up a game such as AI or 3D engine. Take a look at any games magazine and you will see most games described in these terms. Initiation into this language is essential for anyone who wants to be a developer or hard-core gamer. Many young players, keen and recent initiates into the world of gaming wield these terms as proof of their knowledge and to distinguish themselves from their ignorant, casual-gaming fellows. I should know, I was one of these initiates.

But language is a cage. This terminology, perpetuated by gamers and developers alike has the effect of shaping our perception of a game, and often determines how we design new ones. Many developers, it seems, are straining against this prison of words, sensing vague intimations of aspects of gaming outside the language of convention, but lack the concepts with which to catch these shadows and render them concrete in code.

To escape this prison, we need to look at the aspects of gaming that lie outside of it, from the ideas of children yet unversed in the language of gameplay, to the intriguing mental shadows that we, the initiated, push aside as we play. I attempted to uncover some of these aspects in my research, aspects that I’m sure many readers will recognise in their own gaming experiences.

The Primacy of the Imagination

During my conversations with gamers old and young, I found (with younger gamers in particular) that the primary factor in attracting many of them to a game was its premise; the experience alluded to by its characters, themes and imagery. Here a player chooses a game because it allows him to experience a particular fantasy, of being a racing driver, adventurer or soldier. This fact seems to be well known to the copy writers of game advertising and packaging, who in most cases, tend to emphasise the themes, characters and plotlines in a game rather than its constructional description, although many games for hard-core, initiated audiences will focus on describing the game in terms of its genre history, as displaying more polygons than Quake III or having better volumetric lighting for example. This emphasis on the internal history of the video game can be a disadvantage, I feel, as it shuts out the uninitiated and promotes the limiting ideal of a game as a mere collection of algorithmic special effects, which as I hope to prove, is not the case.

This concept of the primacy of an underlying fantasy is given more weight if we read old games magazines from the early to mid eighties and look at how games were described when today’s constructional and genre-based terminology was still in formation. Apart from the quaint clumsiness of such early terms as the “platform-and-ladders” game, there seemed to be much more of an emphasis on the themes, tasks and characters, in some cases evoking scenes of such unparalleled adventure that a young reader would be hard pushed to discern a game’s genre were it not for the accompanying screenshots, and would probably be greatly disappointed when he actually got to play the game. This shows that the development of constructional and genre terminology has been valuable, not least in giving players a shorthand way of knowing what to expect from a game. But it also demonstrates that a gamer lacking the concepts with which to enclose his experience will respond to a game with a much greater portion of his imagination.

The underlying fantasies that a player has about a game may be of a general theme, such as the desire to win a race, be a soldier or rescue a princess, or they may be more complex and specific. Gamers may desire to experience a particular interplay between certain types of character, such as between a man and his evil relative, as with Zidane and Kuja in Final Fantasy IX. They may want to explore the interplay between two opposing concepts, such as the fight between democracy and tyranny in a strategy game, or the balance of good and evil in Black and White. Or commonly, to experience a particular character in a particular situation, such as the popular theme of the lone warrior in a post-apocalyptic world. Some gamers will often think primarily in terms of theme, choosing games that reflect a particular imaginative concern irrespective of genre.

Younger gamers often see game characters and situations as imaginatively real, and see far more in a game object than the older, jaded eye. For example, one of the older Zelda games has an enemy which splits itself up into blocks, which fly around the screen and reform. The experienced player knows that it is a collection of blocky sprites, and in playing will regard the situation as a matter of timing his attacks, avoiding the blocks and finding a safe position. In other words he will see the situation as a system, paying only a little attention to the enemy as a character. But one young gamer described this enemy to me, in excited terms as a sand monster who turned himself into a sandstorm to attack the player. It seemed that he focused more on the monster as a character, seeing it as a being to be contended with rather than as a system to be negotiated.

In older, more knowledgeable gamers too we can see the primacy of an underlying fantasy. More than one gamer has admitted to me that he plays Civilization because he likes the idea of ruling a nation, waging war and taking over the world. One gamer of my acquaintance told me how he enjoys playing Civilization in a certain way, to create a situation where there are two main world powers in the game, himself and an opponent, both with advanced levels of technology. He would then plan a massive campaign against his enemy, creating an all-or-nothing war to end all wars. So in many games, a fantasy might “kick in” when their playing pieces become arranged in a certain way, creating a situation or process of interest to the gamer.

With developers we could say that one of the reasons why they often rehash the same old game ideas is not because they can’t think of anything better, but because they want to create an ever more perfect representation of a particular fantasy or experience. The imaginative realm has often been a prime force in games design. The renowned designer of the Mario and Zelda games, Shigeru Miyamoto, has admitted that he draws inspiration from childhood memories of exploring the caves and forests of the countryside around his home (Poole, 2000).

Games are deeply linked with other forms of imaginative play with game characters and themes influencing play away from the computer. In older gamers we can see this in the number of websites devoted to popular game characters such as Sephiroth from Final Fantasy VII and the popularity of game related action figures, animated movies, comics and models. There is also the interesting fact that some players enjoy dressing up as their favourite video game character. According to writer Steven Poole, the Tokyo Game Show has a best costume contest for visitors who turn up in game related garb (Poole, 2000). Evidence enough to convince us that games can evoke a strong emotional and imaginative response and be a great influence on the inner life of a player.

Another related quality (and this is a purely personal reflection) is what I call “emotional resonance”, the indefinable emotional impact that can be felt upon seeing a certain image, character or person; that unusual feeling of an image being “more real than real”. This aspect of experience has fascinated me from an early age, especially the way that no matter how much you analyse the image in question, no matter how much you research its background or its semiotic relations, you get no closer to pinning down the meaning of its resonance. Many video game images have this quality, along with those in movies and other forms of art, as well as the natural world.

Not all gamers report these kinds of experiences. Some stick unreservedly to a constructional view of games, some ignore character and storyline and concentrate instead on the kinetic experience of playing or the cognitive manipulation of game objects and puzzles. Most gamers, it seems, sway between two different modes of playing, The first is an extroverted mode, where the players emphasis is focused more on the kinetic experience of playing and winning than on storyline or character, and on social gaming where the emphasis is more on the group doing the playing than the game itself. The second is the introverted mode of playing, where the game acts as a catalyst or facilitator for the gamers own feelings or imagination. Here the player imagines himself into the game. It is important to point out that these are just rough working categories, and describe modes of playing, not types of player. An individual might move from one mode to another depending on the game and situation.

Another reason why some people might not report or acknowledge these experiences is because of our society. We live in a society which is profoundly extroverted, where inner experiences are often regarded as pathological aberrations, or waved away as being “only psychological”. In schools, introversion is regarded as a problem to be fixed rather than a natural tendency; no teacher has ever suggested that a boisterous, extroverted child should spend more time in quiet reflection, except perhaps as a punishment.

The games world itself is not immune to such closed mindedness. I remember in the early nineties, reading a magazine review of that groundbreaking RPG , Eye of the Beholder. The reviewer spent the entire first page of his review denouncing role-playing fans, who in his eyes were a bunch of asocial misfits. He then went on to declare the game an all-time classic.

This kind of prejudice, as well as reflecting a simple lack of empathic understanding, has its roots in a wider social trend. It is fashionable in our culture to cultivate emotional distance and cynical detachment, to not let slip that we are moved, certainly not by an ephemeral, commercial medium such as the video game. Another factor is our attitude towards fantasy itself. The epic and magical worlds adored by western gamefreaks and eastern otaku are often derided as vessels of mere escapism. It is no wonder that these experiences remain in the shadows of both the mainstream games industry and of society as a whole.

Conclusion

Whatever the prejudices of our society, it is clear from this evidence that underneath the surface there is a complex, imaginative relationship between a player and a game, a relationship that underlies the literal and technical aspects of a game and merges with the players world and inner life. That these experiences inform the work of many developers is not disputed, but the fact remains that they do not yet form a part of mainstream discussion, nor have they been integrated into the common language of games design; an integration that may transform the entire field.

So how do we integrate these experiences? Without a full psychological investigation we can only speculate on the nature of these experiences and how they relate to games, and given the status of video games in the mainstream eye, such an investigation is unlikely. But we can go some way in understanding these experiences by relating them to ideas already existing in psychology. In part two of Games and the Imagination, Approaching the Imagination, I will explore some of these ideas and their relation to games design. (Source: gamedev.net)


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