Follow up

[WFreitag@aol.com]

After the recent round of increasingly interesting discussion followed by 
sudden profound silence, a pattern that appears to recur, I'm beginning to 
think it may be worthwhile to inquire into why that happens. Does the 
inevitable emergence of the same old fundamental and so far irresolvable 
issues cause frustration? Does the discussion get so complex that it becomes 
too difficult to go on? Do people feel that their comments are not being 
understood or appreciated?

I know in my own case, so many issues were raised and interesting ideas put 
forth that I've felt I can't respond to all of it without forwarding several 
chapters of my forthcoming tome, "The Interactive Storytelling Problem," 
which I intend to start writing any year now. In order to break the impasse, 
what I'd like to do is follow up fairly briefly on a few open issues that 
appear to be of the most general interest.

1. The nature of conflict

Laura, thanks for the link to the Damon Knight essay. My own definition of 
"conflict" is very broad, which means that I don't regard the distinctions 
between puzzles, choices, discoveries, interpersonal conflicts, etc. as quite 
so fundamental in categorizing stories. To me these are all varieties of 
conflict.

Unfortunately, such a broad interpretation renders my definitions of conflict 
and resolution irredeemably circular: "A conflict is a state that requires 
resolution. Resolution is a state change that ends a conflict." This is a 
serious problem, especially from an implementation point of view. As I 
mentioned before, recognizing conflict when it arises in the course of 
interaction is a prerequisite to most schemes to have the interactive system 
actively promote resolution. Without it, we must define all the conflicts in 
advance, or hope that conflicts just resolve themselves, or make the 
player-protagonist solely responsible for recognizing (if not resolving) all 
conflict. 

2. Paradox and art

Kyle, thanks for the additional explanation of your paradox concept. I do 
think you're on to something with this. I'm not yet convinced that this form 
of conflict is more fundamental than all others, but I don't reject the 
notion either. One of the best definitions I've ever heard of the distinction 
between art and craft is that art engages our sense of mortality. As you 
pointed out, "the juxtaposing of life and death could perhaps be the 
considered the ultimate paradox." If you develop a full definition of this 
type of paradox, you may find you've defined art as well!

3. Confict and goals

I made what I thought was a provocative point that I expected at least some 
people to disagree with: "Goals are as central to narrative as they are to 
games. The only difference is that in narrative we usually focus more on the 
motivation for a goal -- that is, the conflict -- than on the goal itself. No 
goal would imply no conflict, which implies no story." So far, everyone who's 
commented on this has generally agreed. 

Since to me the existence of a goal or set of potential goals is one of the 
three critical defining features of a game, and the other two of those 
features (see footnote at end) are all but universal in interactive 
entertainment, does this mean that despite frequent pretensions to the 
contrary especially among the academics, interactive storytelling systems 
will continue to be predominantly games (whether or not they're labeled as 
such)?

4. Metaphor

My comments on this have already turned into a separate essay, which I'll 
post later if this topic is of any interest. The basic point is that 
fundamental problems interfere with conventional metaphor in interactive 
storyworlds. If the "things" (characters, places, props) of a story represent 
larger concepts, then the story's message about those concepts depends on 
what happens to those things. Since that can vary, certain types of messags 
cannot be consistently conveyed.

Chris has described how messages can be conveyed through process alone. This 
concept, I believe, has to be refined further. Rules (components of process) 
can represent messages about how the world works, but so far we only 
understand how to do this in a literalistic way. It's easy enough to 
implement the Golden Rule, for example: cause all the characters in a 
storyworld to model their own behavior after the player-protagonist's. But 
literal representation is not very powerful compared to metaphoric 
representation. What if the rules of interactive systems, like the "things" 
of a conventional story, had meanings beyond their immediate effects on the 
system, and beyond their straightforward extrapolation to the world at large? 
We could consider this another form of metaphor, but it may be different 
enough from conventional metaphor to merit its own term. I'm partial to a 
word Laura intruduced (for a different reason): "resonance."

An interesting hypothesis is that rules of interactive systems do have such 
deeper meanings. As users and crafters of interactive systems, we dimly 
perceive these meanings but as critics and artists we don't understand them. 
(Could there have been an analogous period in human cultural evolution when 
people knew that some stories were more powerful and evocative than others, 
but didn't have a specific idea of metaphor? Not very likely, but it makes a 
good analogy.) Resonance would be possible not only in interactive 
storytelling systems but in interactive systems of all types. Furthermore, 
resonance, like metaphor, could occur whether or not introduced deliberately. 
Perhaps this explains some of the qualities that certain games have, and why 
those qualities are so elusive of definition or deliberate design.

5. Process vs. Data

I have another posting in the works, responding to Chris's and Ken in the 
ongoing discussion of process versus data. Since this may not be of interest 
to everyone, I'll make sure its subject matter is clearly marked.


FOOTNOTE

Bit by bit, I've been working on an interactive storytelling glossary. Here's 
my current entry for "game:"

Game (n) An activity or process, involving at least one human participant or 
"player," that meets three criteria:

1. The player has a goal to accomplish.

2. The decisions of the player affect whether or not the player’s goal is 
accomplished.

3. The determination of whether or not, or how effectively, the goal is 
accomplished is more important to the player than the direct consequences of 
pursuing or accomplishing the goal.

This is the broadest definition I’ve been able to concoct that still draws 
meaningful distinctions between games and other forms of human activity. By 
focusing on the existence of a goal rather than e.g. the element of 
competition or the existence of established rules, this definition 
encompasses such activities as solitaire games, cooperative games, 
extemporaneous games (e.g. Calvinball), and games in which player(s) select 
their own goals or change their goals during play. A person who decides to 
throw a rock at a tree to see whether he will hit it is playing a game, 
albeit a brief and simple one. 

Each of the criteria is reasonable and necessary. Item 1 differentiates 
between games and other forms and aspects of play that are not games. 
Exploring is not a game in and of itself, but it becomes one if there is a 
goal such as a landmark or treasure to be found. An interactive storytelling 
session is not a game unless (as is often, even usually, the case) the 
audience is given, or self-selects, a goal. 

Item 2 differentiates between games and performance or spectatorship, where a 
goal may appear to exist (e.g. the hero of a movie prevails, or the home team 
wins) but the stage performer or sports spectator cannot influence whether or 
not it’s accomplished. 

Item 3 distinguishes games from endeavors that for want of a better term are 
better classified as "work." A competitor running a race may be said to be 
playing a game, but a commuter running to catch a train is not, because in 
that case the desire to catch the train, rather than the revelation of 
whether or not the runner is able to do so, is the primary motivation for 
running.  This distinction can become tricky, as in gambling or professional 
competition, but it always seems to prove valid in the end.

- Walt