« Crunchings and Munchings? | Home | FictFri: The Building of Worlds »
Games As ‘Open’ Texts
By Corvus | December 15, 2005
Note: I’ve been stewing over this post for some time now. I was on the verge of completing it yesterday, when I received some news that destroyed what focus I had. The problem, over all, is that my reactions to the topic are slippery, moving from positive ‘A-ha!’ moments to bewildered ‘Bring it home, Um’ moments. So, don’t expect this to be some coherent, polished, presentation. Like many of my posts, it’s an exploration and, as usual, only the first of a series.
As I’ve mentioned, I’m slowly digging my way through Umberto Eco’s The Role of the Reader, which consists of nine essays concerning the relationship of “open” and “closed” texts. The first chapter, The Poetics of the Open Work, concerns itself with an exploration of the term “open” as it relates to music, literature, plays, and art.
In essence, an open text is one that is specifically crafted with an eye toward audience/performer interpretation. This intention can be expressed in a variety of manners. For example Karlheinz Stockhausen’s score, Klavierstuck XI (link: Wikipedia Stockhausen entry), the performer picks from note groupings and decides in which order to play them. Stickhausen’s score, Zyklus, takes this a step further, allowing the performer to start at any point in the score and play it forwards, backwards, or even inverted. This obviously allows for practically unlimited interpretation by a performer, while still remaining a work of Stockhausen (we’ll get back to that point later). Other composers have taken different approaches to creating open compositions, such as Luciano Berio’s Sequence for solo flute (link: Wikipedia Berio entry, which provides a static sequence of notes, but allows the performer to decide how long any given notes is held for. Henri Pousseur said that his piece Scambi was more a “field of possibilities” than a “musical composition.”
It is important to note that this overt approach does not get to the heart of the term “open” text. These ‘unfinished’ pieces, or works in movement, requiring the performer to assemble building block pieces, are structured to externalize, or even codify, the “openness” of texts. In reality, open texts (I think I’ll drop the quotes around open from this point out) are works which intentionally leave themselves open to audience interpretation. Joyce’s Ulysses, with its layers of metaphor is cited as a prime example of a work that encourages open interpretation. Brecht’s plays are also cited as open works and of Kafka, Eco says the following:
But, unlike the constructions of medieval allegory, where the superimposed layers of meaning are rigidly prescribed, in Kafka there is no confirmation in an encyclopedia, no matching paradigm in the cosmos, to provide a key to the symbolism. The various existentialist, theological, clinical, and psychoanalytical interpretations of Kafka’s symbols cannot exhaust all the possibilities of his works.
Note that it has been argued that all art is open. Art is re-explored with every viewing and takes on new meaning with each subtle shift in mood or circumstance of the viewer. I think, perhaps, instead of continuing to try and pluck out tufts of relevant detail from a very dense essay, I’ll let Eco sum it up for us and move onto my own exploration:
Certainly this new receptive mode vis-a-vis the work of art opens up a much vaster phase in culture and in this sense is not intellectually confined to the problem of aesthetics. The poetics of the work in movement (and partly that of the ‘open’ work) sets in motion a new cycle of relations between the artist and his audience, a new mechanics of aesthetic perception, a different status for the artistic product in contemporary society. It opens a new page in sociology and in pedagogy, as well as a new chapter in the history of art. It poses new practical problems by organizing new communicative situations. In short, it installs a new relationship between the contemplation and the utilization of a work of art.
All right. So where do games fit into all this? Well, if we examine the structure of games, it doesn’t take much imagination to see that the dynamic elements of narration (i.e. the gameplay elements) lend themselves to openness in the same fashion as a musical composition without a time scale or set progression of notes. Eco alludes to an argument that a random assemblage of components could be considered an open work. His response is to point out that each interpretation of an open work, whether it be a painting or a poem, still maintains the mark of its maker. Despite the varying utilizations of it, the source is still the work of an artist/author, etc. A simple game related corollary to this concept can be found in games such as the Ultima series. No matter which games of the series you’ve played, no matter your chosen Avatar style (mage, warrior, archer, etc), no matter whether you explore every corner of Britannia, kill all the citizens and pile their bodies in Trinsic, or honorably complete every side quest in every town, you’re still in Britannia, you’re still playing an Ultima game, and the authorship of the game is never in question (in fact, just wander into the castle and have a chat with the author himself, Lord British).
Games have yet, however, to provide the sort of emotional and intellectual depth of a Joyce, Kafka, Brecht, or even of a Burroughs (William S., not Edgar R.) or Pynchon. I’m inclined to be believe this is a by product of focus, not one of technical insufficiency. The earliest printed fiction certainly wasn’t open, or even terribly literary. It took time and an increase in the understanding of the form before it could be opened. Eco postulates that as science provides culture with more complex perceptions of the universe, that culture can provide texts which are more open. If that’s the case, perhaps games exist on a cusp between scientific schools of thought. Game design (electronic game design, that is) is truly in its infancy and drawing from the fields of art, literature, play, and film. It draws upon them all, but has yet to master the integration of any of them.
I think, however, the main point to focus on is this: Games, when viewed in light of the Poetics of the Open Work, are art. Comparable to the early history of most other media, we have a way to go before games contain the emotional and intellectual depth of the great works. But we will get there, of that I have no doubt. I’ll close with another quote from Eco:
Seen in these terms and against the background of historical influences and cultural interplay which links it by analogy to widely diversified aspects of the contemporary world view, the situation of art has now become a situation in the process of development. Far from being fully accounted for and catalogued, it deploys and poses problems in several dimensions. In short, it is an ‘open’ situation, in movement. A work in progress.
If that doesn’t sound like a description of games, I don’t know what does.
Note: I suspect this post is a complete train wreck and I apologize. If I had the mental wherewhithal to edit it today I would. I feel the need to get it posted though, so clarity will have to wait until I’ve digested more of the book.
Tagged:Carnival, Music, storytelling. | 7 Comments »
December 16th, 2005 at 4:25 am
This doesn’t strike me as much of a trainwreck, actually: perhaps your discombobulation just leaves you uncertain of your own capabilities?
Firstly, the moment I started reading Eco’s description of Open Work, I thought: wow, this is a division of art which is really hard to execute in other media and really easy in games, which you work towards in this piece quite neatly.
“Joyce’s Ulysses, with its layers of metaphor is cited as a prime example of a work that encourages open interpretation.”
How strange. I just haven’t seen the evidence for this, I suppose. Ulysses is a bleak re-envisioning of the Odyssey with post-modern intent, set in a single day. If it encourages an open interpretation, I haven’t seen the evidence in commentary on the work – which all seems to say the same thing (but I haven’t actually given the book itself a try). Joyce apparently “packed it with puzzles and enigmas”… I don’t know, perhaps it is better than it sounds, because it sounds overwrought and unrewarding, but literary critics continue to praise it so it must have *something* going for it.
Conversely, Joyce’s Finnegan’s Wake is so densely abstracted (apparently) that it practically requires a skeleton key (of which there are several, I believe) to interpret.
“Game design (electronic game design, that is) is truly in its infancy”
Non-electronic commercial game design is only 70 years old. That makes it younger than, for instance, quantum mechanics.
I’m really enjoying learning Eco’s view vicariously via you. It saves me having to read him.
December 16th, 2005 at 7:54 am
My discombobulation is responsible for a great many things. I’m glad the post didn’t suffer from it. *nirg* Thanks for the assurance.
I, too, have never read Joyce. I’ve meant to, but his density is daunting. I’ve always thought that Ulysses was pretty tightly locked down, metaphor-wise. Eco does say that Finnegan’s Wake is more open and much of his discussion of Joyce merely reference Joyce the author, not his work. I found more quotes pointing to Ulysses than anything else, so used it in the post. Regardless, I now intend on reading the Joyce I’ve purchased over the years.
Literary critics can be a pretty self punishing group!
Really?! I guess I was including the creation of games such as chess, poker, etc, in my thinking about the history of non-electronic game design and hadn’t thought to differentiate between older, or even historical, games and commercial games. What’s considered the first commercially designed game?
A few years ago I don’t know if he’d have held my interest. Since I’m trying to get at a specific point now, however, I’m finding him challenging, but quite worth the read. There will be more nattering about him, I promise!
December 16th, 2005 at 11:31 am
I tried reading Role of The Reader when I was 18, but couldn’t stomach past the introduction, so your interpretations are refreshing to read. I also liked that you mentioned Burroughs, Naked Lunch and the post-modern lit that followed, I believe, was attempting to extend the openess of literature in way which the modernists like Joyce shyed away from, in favor of a more tightly focused construction. Think of it this way, Joyce is like a master level designer for some FPS about Dublin, where all the scripting is hard-coded by the reader doesn’t notice because of the sheer volume of content. Burroughs, on the other hand, is a bit like a heroine addicted, homosexual version of Will Wright, his books don’t bother with lineated content or plots so much as principles of these twisted worlds, like Interzone, which the reader can enter and play in to whatever extend they feel comfortable, which in Burroughs usually isn’t much.
BTW, check out a recent post of mine, I think your recent reading may have some application:
http://kingludic.blogspot.com/2005/12/interactive-perspectives.html
I also wrote a post-script for the round table yesterday, theres an e-mail waiting at the appropriate address.
December 16th, 2005 at 11:44 am
I haven’t received the email, but I’ll add your second post to the mix. I get your RSS feed, but neglected to add it, sorry. I was too busy pushing this boulder back up the hill.
I did read your perspective post, but I’ve not had the focus to phrase a reply. I’m not sure I agree with your assignation of 1st, 2nd, and 3rd person perspective to game genres. Perhaps we ought to define a ‘4th person’ perspective that applies to the complex mix of perspectives available in a game. Hm… I suddenly find myself with something substantial to say. Perhaps I’ll turn it into a post.
Oh, and I felt right at home, and very comfortable, in Burrough’s novels. Make of that what you will! *kniw*
December 19th, 2005 at 3:41 pm
I can’t speak for anyone else, but I consider Parker Brothers to be the first commercial game designers. I got my dates mixed up, however: they were formed in 1883, which would put commercial game design before quantum mechanics by a good quarter century. I still occasionally play their game ‘Pit’ which was created in 1904 – more than one hundred years ago! If anyone knows of commercial game design prior to this point I’d love to hear about it, though!
January 5th, 2006 at 3:46 pm
[...] The latest Carnival of Gamers has been posted over at Kill Ten Rats. Be sure to check it out for some great blog posts about games. My entry this time is Slate Misses the Point. Some of my favorite entries from this carnival are “But I Don’t Want to be a Murderer” from Outside Looking In and “Games as ‘Open’ Texts at Man Bites Blog (who’s main page I can’t get to load right now). Also be sure to check out the carnival’s HQ at buttonmashing. [...]
April 6th, 2007 at 3:52 pm
[...] bacon, the Pancake Breakfast is always popular. The topic for this year’s discussion will be “Games As ‘Open’ Texts”. Be prepared for a pop quiz after the meal. Just [...]