Video Game “Immersion”: in which we Contemplate a return to Enjoyment

I am in the midst of reading a recent article in the inaugural issue of the Journal of Games Criticism by Brendan Keogh entitled “Across World and Bodies: Criticism in the Age of Video Games.” This article has made quite stir, apparently, making the rounds (assuming one pays attention to the right circles—Dan Golding, Daniel Joseph, Ian Bogost, Zoya Street, Felan Parker; I imagine there are others too, but hat tip to Dan Golding for this particular list).

One of the things Keogh says in his introduction reminded me of another recent read completely unrelated to game studies. (Although, as a good votary of the liberal arts, I should never say “completely unrelated,” as we shall see.) In an earlier post, I reflected, as I am wont to do, on C. S. Lewis’s essay “Meditation in a Tool Shed,” which was, in turn, much influence by philosopher Samuel Alexander‘s Space, Time, and Deity.

This excerpt is what got me thinking:

The first of these sections observes how the concept of ‘immersion’ obscures critical analysis of video games [sic et cetera] as cultural forms that actually exist, as it leads to the same separation of form and content that Susan Sontag (1964) so completely dismantled half a century ago. The videogame critic, I argue, must avoid immersion to understand how videogame play functions across worlds. . . In my conclusion, I argue why a shift towards close, critical analyses of specific videogames is inevitable and, indeed, is already emerging as a younger generation of theorists with a more everyday relationship to videogames begins presenting and publishing research. These scholars have grown up in a time where playing a videogame is as mundane as watching a film or listening to pop music; they do not require all-encompassing formal methods to understand what videogames are, but critical toolkits to deploy and alter as they build a stronger understanding of videogames as a cultural form.

—Brendan Keogh entitled “Across World and Bodies: Criticism in the Age of Video Games,” Journal of Games Criticism, v. 1, no. 1, 2014

(emphasis added)

Compare that to Lewis:

I was standing today in the dark toolshed. The sun was shining outside and through the crack at the top of the door there came a sunbeam. From where I stood that beam of light, with the specks of dust floating in it, was the most striking thing in the place. Everything else was almost pitch-black. I was seeing the beam, not seeing things by it.

Then I moved, so that the beam fell on my eyes. Instantly the whole previous picture vanished. I saw no toolshed, and (above all) no beam. Instead I saw, framed in the irregular cranny at the top of the door, green leaves moving on the branches of a tree outside and beyond that, ninety-odd million miles away, the sun. Looking along the beam, and looking at the beam are very different experiences.

— C. S. Lewis, ”Meditation in a Toolshed,” from Essay Collection, p. 607

(emphasis added)

Looking along the beam versus looking at the beam. Samuel Alexander referred to theses as Enjoyment and Contemplation, respectively. In some ways, Keogh’s words reminded me of Lewis and Alexander. It seems to me the very nature of formal criticism must be Contemplative, i.e., looking at the beam, studying object of interest from without in order to gain an appreciation for its composition (structure, artistry, fill-in-the-blank). Conversely, Enjoyment, i.e., looking along the beam, would correspond to Keogh’s use of the term immersion, a slippery word commonly used in the gaming community. This strikes me as the same idea, albeit in significant different language. Lewis, as literature professor, took a much more literary tack. Thus, can one say…?

Alexander / Lewis / Keogh
Contemplation = at beam = criticism
Enjoyment = along beam = immersion

I got the impression from Lewis that he did not advocate one of these perspectives at the expense of the other, but preferred to let them inform one another. I suspect that may be at the root of what Keogh says as well when he mentions young scholars who have grown up with video games as a norm. Despite the fuzziness of what age-range constitutes a young scholar, I suspect that those who think of video games as a normal part of their childhood (of which I would consider myself a member), and continue to participate in that culture have an easy enough time looking along the light beam and have, perhaps more recently begun to look at that beam they have long enjoyed. Perhaps they will indeed find it easier to shift between those two experiential paradigms, allowing for a balanced understanding of reciprocal perception. That is not to say, of course, that “older” scholars cannot find such a balance, but I suspect they will have to be willing to lay aside the clinical sterility of Contemplation in order to let themselves Enjoy games, which will, in turn, deepen their critical engagement.

All this from the introduction to an article I have not yet finished. Maybe I should have thought that through before posting this; it may be far off from what the author’s intended destination. Still, there it is.

There’s Always a Lighthouse: in which we reflect on the study of video game music

This past weekend, I attended (and presented a paper at) the inaugural North American Conference on Video Game Music in Youngstown, Ohio. It gave me an outlet for writing about some of the music in BioShock: Infinite, which, as my three long-time readers know, has been on my mind since I played the game nearly a year ago. At last, I have been energized to get off my duff and write (and maybe collaborate?) with others who are interested in this topic. Some of my initial thoughts about the game can be found in the posts “Levine Shall Sit the Throne and Drown in Reflection the Musings of Man” (on story) and “Would You Kindly?” (on religion, faith, and theology).

I was quite pleased by three aspects of the conference:

1) to learn of the depth of other scholars’ (and emerging scholars’) interest and work in video game music. I feel rather new to an already new subfield of study, so I have a lot of resources and reading available to me now.

2) at the collegiality and warmth among the small gathering. This is often more common, in my experience, at smaller academic conferences—rarely at the larger ones—but I found this particular group to be even more so than other smaller conferences. I don’t know if that’s due to the generally younger average age, perhaps implying that the dog-eat-dog mentality that some of academia’s “old guard” instill in their students hasn’t yet tainted their experience. Perhaps it was the relative youth of ludomusicology as a sub-discipline  that gave a sense of banding together for protection against the derision of that same “old guard” who deride it as an illegitimate area of study. (Of course, a quick history lesson in our own discipline would reveal that jazz, film music, and popular music on the whole have all come—or are coming—to be acceptable focus areas of musical study.)

Screen Shot 2014-01-21 at 11.20.26 AM3) at the staggering amount of press coverage. This never, never happens when academic conferences take place. A list of the media outlets can be found here, including a disappointingly lackluster article in Wired, complete with errata that could have easily been fixed with a Google search (Read: diegesis). This article was, I thought, more well written—perhaps it helps that the author was actually present at the conference.

It is exciting to be present at the beginning of something that promises to yield great intellectual dividends as time goes on. Well, near the beginning anyway; I’m not as experienced at writing about these topics as some who were present, but I hope to learn from their example as this burgeoning interest develops.

So, as soon as I can, I will be recording my presentation and posting it to my website (and, perhaps, here) in the interest of open scholarship. Stay tuned.