of games and learning

A few weeks ago, I sent a panel proposal in to CCCCs with a couple of other people on video games and learning.

Right now, I'm doing training for TypeWell, which basically involves unlearning everything I've ever done in typing since I first took keyboarding in fourth grade.

A bunch of short words are abbreviated to one letter, and you leave the vowels out of long words. This is surprisingly difficult; I'm learning that I do not in fact have an innate grasp of what consonants are in words like "superintendent" or "department." On average, I type around 100 wpm. Currently, I need to type 3 sets of 20 sentences at 96 wpm with fewer than five errors per set.

I am failing miserably.

This makes me unhappy. I don't cope well with failure.

The more I do this, though, the more I think about my proposal. It is entirely possible that CCCC's response to our proposal will be some polite version of "die in a fire kthxbye." These things happen. But I'm going to stick with this. I think it's important.

Here's the short version: Most people who look at gaming in connection to pedagogy are trying to figure out how to use gaming in the classroom. Those who are looking at what gaming generally teaches us about how we learn (e.g., James Gee) are mostly looking at "hardcore" games (e.g., WoW, GTA4, or CoD)--basically, the games that have a steep learning curve and require a bunch of hours to complete. Casual games, on the other hand, are supposed to be easy to learn and easy to play (e.g., Bejeweled, Geometry Wars, or Canabalt).

The thing is, casual games are crazy addictive. How many posts do you see every day from your Facebook friends playing Farmville or Family Feud? Probably a looooot--so many you might start wondering if anyone works during the day anymore. And unlike Farmville or Family Feud, some of them require a very high level of skill. Playing is easy. Winning...not so much.

Think about Tetris, one of the most addictive games ever made and one of the most popular; it's been on almost every game console and computer system since its release in 1985, and knockoff versions abound on the internet. The rules are incredibly simple, but that doesn't mean it's an easy game. Similarly, Trials HD, my game of choice for the last year or so, is really, really addictive.

Like I intend to spend 10 minutes playing before I go to bed and it's two hours later before I put down the controller addictive.

Like I get so involved my palms sweat and I end up shaking after a long run addictive.

Like I yell at the TV and swear at myself for screwing up and still keep saying, "I'll just try this one more time" addictive.

So what makes Trials HD something I play voluntarily, whereas despite the common themes of yelling, swearing, and sweaty palms, I will literally go scrub my toilet to put off having to do TypeWell training?

Well.

Here are three reasons.

1.) When I die in Trials, I explode spectacularly. It's kind of satisfying, in a bizarre way. If you're gonna go out, you might as well do it with a bang, right?

2.) If I screw up in Trials, I can curse, hit the back button, and restart the whole level. In the end, I have to do it perfectly all the way through for the gold medal, so why waste my time if I've already screwed up?

3.) Competition. Everyone's at least a little competitive. In the interests of full disclosure, I should admit that I'm not everyone. I want to win. Some people say that it's not whether you win or lose; it's how you play the game. Those people are people who lose. Don't get me wrong: I'd never cheat. Because if you cheat, then you lose the right to talk smack to the losers, and that's an integral part of winning.

The leaderboards on Trials let me see exactly how close I am to beating my friends, and watching my name lag behind anyone else's (because second place is the first loser) gives me motivation like you wouldn't believe.

TypeWell? It has none of that. None. When I screw up, I get annoyingly patronized by a computer elf named Kyp (I am not making this up; trust me, when I make things up, there are usually zombies, aliens, or at least desserts involved). If I screw up, I still have to finish out the set of sentences even though I know I've already lost. I don't have competition: It's just me and Kyp. I fail or I get a checkmark. A checkmark. Not a gold medal. Not an achievement. Not a glorious gloating opportunity.

I just get to move on to the next lesson.

Pedagogical tool fail.

Now, if you'll excuse me...I have some scores to beat.