Content

Content begins on the outside and ends up inside.

With written briefs and schedules flourishing in the rear view mirror, we’re beginning our approach to another early milestone: content. That word seems to mean everything and nothing at the same time. Let’s dispel the ambiguity.

In my view, content derives from information. It happens like this.

  1. Information is sculpted into communication
  2. Communication is rendered as media
  3. Media promote experience
  4. Experience is distilled into ideas
  5. Ideas are summoned into knowledge
  6. Knowledge is the safe harbor of content.

Phew! If all that is true, then it’s fair to say that content begins on the outside and ends up inside. Content bends the objective to the whims of the subjective. It starts as facts and finishes as perception. Content is what we think we know and what we think we can use to achieve our aims. Content bestows power.

Our briefs claim that the streaming content of Diabetes Agonistes is formed from six tributaries: biology, chemistry, psychology, environment, community and aesthetics. Biology and chemistry: these are scientific, decidedly factual. Psychology is less scientific because it is more tolerant of speculation and ideology. (I think therefore I am? Arguable. I am therefore I think? Indubitable!) Environment is the physical world that supports or harms life, and is very scientific. Community is the moral world of connections and relationships, interdependence and conflict: dynamic, metamorphic, cultural. Aesthetics are the human spirit, a force field that makes the cosmos personally meaningful, for better or worse.

All of these tributaries form the almighty stream of content in our project. Our schedule says we will survey the stream by July 2020, in time for designers to paddle its churning rapids, keeping us onboard as we twist and bobble onward.

Our first step of content discovery is to create a framework: the loose contours of information that we gather way upstream, in the placid pools of scholarly and popular literature. We do this to appreciate how others understand human metabolism, healthy and otherwise.

Framework in hand, we interview a gaggle of subject-matter experts in several disciplines: asking them questions about the literature, uncovering leads to additional information that we missed in our framework, learning how to bend information to the learning objectives of our curriculum.

Yes, our curriculum, because even though the thing we are making is a drop-dead gorgeous, butt-kicking, soul-riveting video game, under its covers it will be a competence builder; it will not teach, but will prompt and empower people to learn.

After the interviews, a great slog begins. The slog is a spreadsheet Topic Index. Word by word, row by row, an inventory of accurate and useful information that users may turn into knowledge while playing our video game — whether or not they want to. In fact we know they won’t want to and that’s why we won’t tell them they’re learning. Instead we’ll encourage them to feel they are winning, which after all beats learning in any head-to-head competition.

Once our Topic Index is written, we may rest. Our labors regarding content will be finished for the time being. We will set it aside and turn full attention to the next milestone: a technical marvel we call evaluation website.

The evaluation website is a test bed for our modular proof of concept, of which an elaborate simulation and a competency model are very important parts. Why mention them in this post about content? Because the content we delineate in the Topic Index will be plowed into the simulation and the model long before they see the light of day in a video game. The evaluation website is where stakeholders in our success will observe, manipulate, and comment on the content we have mustered for their immediate enjoyment and lasting benefit.

Scientific entertainment. Le Repos (1911) by Félix Edouard Vallotton, pictured with neurons that may be firing in the model’s limbic system as her friend approaches with a glass of milk and a cookie.

Author: Robert S. Becker, Phd

Founder and CEO of Humaginarium LLC

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