Experience

A video game is a process more than a product.

Video game entertainment is a process more than a product; moreover one that people control to their advantage. For example, as they play Diabetes Agonistes, their personal experience of discovery, invention, synthesis and resolution is paramount. They, not the game, make individual choices and meaning that bring the game to life. They learn from their experience in a process known as heuristics.

Unlike pure play (epitomized by Johan Huizinga and Bernie De Koven), a video game is structural and ordained. It imposes rules on performance; meets out punishments and rewards; tells a story or at least has a narrative arc; occupies virtual space that seams realistic or at least familiar. A video game has personality or involves characters whose personalities have to be dealt with. One of those personalities belongs to the player who participates as an actor: performing a role that is directed if not scripted by the game.

Diabetes Agonistes has five complementary dimensions of experience that enrich lives. By enrich I mean amuse and edify, make them happier, smarter, healthier. These are the takeaways and reasons for coming back for more.

The first dimension of experience is art. Just looking at Diabetes Agonistes gives pleasure and satisfaction. Enjoyment doesn’t depend on understanding or using what’s visible. Drawing, painting, modeling render all subject matter beautiful no matter how it actually appears in nature, if at all. We use a hybrid style of hyperrealism and romanticism to achieve this effect, because the blend is perfect for rendering science and fantasy from the same perspective.

The second dimension is entertainment and it surprises me. Diabetes Agonistes is funny, though I haven’t thought about it that way. It wants to be liked though it’s morbid, difficult, obnoxious. It mocks itself and makes fun of others, and seems to have neither center of gravity nor gravitas: dancing when told to march, joking when asked for help, by turns Harpo, Groucho or Chico and willing to do anything to earn people’s trust — not to make subject matter easy but to make it fun.

The third dimension is fantasy. Our scientific subject matter is not imaginary, not invented, not theoretical, not in doubt. It’s real in every cell of the body; and it’s faithfully represented in Diabetes Agonistes: modeled, simulated, rendered before cast as art and entertainment. Yet the experience we make of science is perversely unrealistic. After taking much trouble to get it right, we rig it in fantasy. We let folks pretend that illness is no threat, but a competitor. Rather than retreating in fear, anger, denial as folks do in life, fantasists tackle illness curiously, deliberately, with chutzpah.

The fourth dimension is plaything or toy. Diabetes Agonistes has unconstrained elements that are not justified by game rules, mechanics, theory, objectives. Pictorial embellishments, challenging diversions, anecdotal pockets that randomly delight for no logical reason. Our proper game about metabolism gains nothing from playthings, while people enjoy the silly distractions. They are occasions for lallygagging.

The fifth dimension is game. It immerses people in conflicts they’ve never consciously had and would avoid if presented another way. Life and death conflicts that erupt in their imagination, involving mysterious dynamics that are scary and difficult to understand, and that most folks are unfit to learn by any pedagogical means. Gaming not only makes it possible to learn, but more importantly desirable. People get to vanquish pernicious drivers of their illness.

Indeed our video game is a process more than a product. A process involving perception, cognition, emotional engagement, self-determination. Each one of the five dimensions is a way of experiencing the process, a way for players to deposit themselves in a virtual world of endless opportunities, and later take themselves out with gifts of amazing insight.

Author: Robert S. Becker, Phd

Founder and CEO of Humaginarium LLC

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