In Game are not, David Myers demonstrates that current controversies and conflicts surrounding the meanings and effects of videogames are not going away; they are essential properties of the game's unique and paradoxical aesthetic form: a form critical to human creativity, knowledge, and sustenance of the species.
How we talk about games as real or not-real, and how that shapes what games are made and who is invited to play them. In videogame criticism, the worst insult might be “That's not a real game!” For example, “That's not a real game, it's on Facebook!” and “That's not a real game, it's a walking simulator!” But how do people judge what is a real game and what is not—what features establish a game's gameness? In this engaging book, Mia Consalvo and Christopher Paul examine the debates about the realness or not-realness of videogames and find that these discussions shape what games get made and who is invited to play them. Consalvo and Paul look at three main areas often viewed as determining a game's legitimacy: the game's pedigree (its developer), the content of the game itself, and the game's payment structure. They find, among other things, that even developers with a track record are viewed with suspicion if their games are on suspect platforms. They investigate game elements that are potentially troublesome for a game's gameness, including genres, visual aesthetics, platform, and perceived difficulty. And they explore payment models, particularly free-to-play—held by some to be a marker of illegitimacy. Finally, they examine the debate around such so-called walking simulators as Dear Esther and Gone Home. And finally, they consider what purpose is served by labeling certain games “real."
This book contributes to the theatrical discussions of equilibria that rest on error--in which we include mistaken choices of games to play. Extant game theory recommends diverse strategies (plans of actions) for various given games, particularly those in Nash equilibria, in which no player benefits from one-sided strategy alteration. The literature also refers to the design of games that fit given goals. This is the mechanism design theory; its function is to serve social planners ignorant of the preferences of the people intended to play them. Our study of games avoidance adds to game theory the meta-game of choosing what game to play and what game to avoid playing, and that both players and planners can generate. This comprises a shift from the maximalist position that aims to maximize possible profit to the minimalist one that aims at minimizing possible loss. This shift depends on the question, considering the public interest, what set of games is it advisable to encourage? Obviously, it is advisable to encourage playing some groups of games such as trade, as well as to discourage playing other groups of games such as wars. This shift makes the theory much more applicable to social science: usually, choosing what game to play is less practical than choosing what game not to play. This invites legislation and similar incentives; their study should aim at the improvement of their usefulness. Discussing the possibility of changing both game and strategy renders game theory part-and-parcel of social science. For this mathematical models will not do: it requires a clear distinction between describing options and explaining situations. Explanations may enhance efforts at improvement.
A group biography of seven enduring and beloved games, and the story of why—and how—we play them. Checkers, backgammon, chess, and Go. Poker, Scrabble, and bridge. These seven games, ancient and modern, fascinate millions of people worldwide. In Seven Games, Oliver Roeder charts their origins and historical importance, the delightful arcana of their rules, and the ways their design makes them pleasurable. Roeder introduces thrilling competitors, such as evangelical minister Marion Tinsley, who across forty years lost only three games of checkers; Shusai, the Master, the last Go champion of imperial Japan, defending tradition against “modern rationalism”; and an IBM engineer who created a backgammon program so capable at self-learning that NASA used it on the space shuttle. He delves into the history and lore of each game: backgammon boards in ancient Egypt, the Indian origins of chess, how certain shells from a particular beach in Japan make the finest white Go stones. Beyond the cultural and personal stories, Roeder explores why games, seemingly trivial pastimes, speak so deeply to the human soul. He introduces an early philosopher of games, the aptly named Bernard Suits, and visits an Oxford cosmologist who has perfected a computer that can effectively play bridge, a game as complicated as human language itself. Throughout, Roeder tells the compelling story of how humans, pursuing scientific glory and competitive advantage, have invented AI programs better than any human player, and what that means for the games—and for us. Funny, fascinating, and profound, Seven Games is a story of obsession, psychology, history, and how play makes us human.
From the untimely deaths of young athletes to chronic disease among retired players, roiling debates over tackle football have profound implications for more than one million American boys—some as young as five years old—who play the sport every year. In this book, Kathleen Bachynski offers the first history of youth tackle football and debates over its safety. In the postwar United States, high school football was celebrated as a "moral" sport for young boys, one that promised and celebrated the creation of the honorable male citizen. Even so, Bachynski shows that throughout the twentieth century, coaches, sports equipment manufacturers, and even doctors were more concerned with "saving the game" than young boys' safety—even though injuries ranged from concussions and broken bones to paralysis and death. By exploring sport, masculinity, and citizenship, Bachynski uncovers the cultural priorities other than child health that made a collision sport the most popular high school game for American boys. These deep-rooted beliefs continue to shape the safety debate and the possible future of youth tackle football.
Filled with philosophical puzzles that have intrigued great minds of many nations for centuries, insoluble logical paradoxes and moral dilemmas, This is Not a Book provides an intellect workout that will force you to confront the consequences of your beliefs.
This book addresses the ongoing scientific debates regarding video games and their effects on players. The book features opposing perspectives and offers point and counterpoint exchanges in which researchers on both sides of a specific topic make their best case for their findings and analysis. Chapters cover both positive and negative effects of video games on players’ behavior and cognition, from contributing to violence and alienation to promoting therapeutic outcomes for types of cognitive dysfunction. The contrasting viewpoints model presents respectful scientific debate, encourages open dialogue, and allows readers to come to informed conclusions. Key questions addressed include: · Do violent video games promote violence? · Does video game addiction exist? · Should parents limit children’s use of interactive media? · Do action video games promote visual attention? · Does sexist content in video games promote misogyny in real life? · Can video games slow the progress of dementia? · Are video games socially isolating? Video Game Influences on Aggression, Cognition, and Attention is a must-have resource for researchers, clinicians and professionals as well as graduate students in developmental psychology, social work, educational policy and politics, criminology/criminal justice, child and school psychology, sociology, media law, and other related disciplines.
THE GAME IS NOT A GAME IS AN INSIGHTFUL, UNAPOLOGETIC EXPOSÉ OF THE INTERSECTION OF SPORTS, CULTURE, AND POLITICS FROM VETERAN JOURNALIST ROBERT SCOOP JACKSON.
Is there anything more universally American than NFL football? Love of the NFL runs deep and broad. It is a primetime TV event on multiple national networks, subsidized by public funds and popular from Mount Rainier to Miami Beach. The 2015 Super Bowl, a thriller between the Patriots and Seahawks, was the most-watched program in the history of television, with more than a third of the country watching. Yet football is in trouble. Public anxiety over football spiked in 2014 during the heat of the Ray Rice domestic violence scandal, the ongoing concussion crisis and the league's appropriations of tax money for its own ends. The mounting problems have led some to question the ethics of watching America's beloved game. In this sharply argued, witty, observant book, Gregg Easterbrook makes a spirited case in defense of the NFL. As he shows, the league brings together Americans of all stripes, providing a rare space to talk about what matters. Indeed, the various issues we see in the league are often microcosms of the ones we see elsewhere, whether it's suspicion of the rich, or gender politics or even concern over bullying. The NFL's social, economic and legal problems are real, but they also produce some of our best and most valuable discussions of those issues. Football is a magnificent incarnation of our national character. It has many flaws, and they need fixing -- but the game's not over.