Women in Games Development

February 10, 2012 in Culture, Industry

As my Goodreads friends will already know, I am currently reading Introducing Feminism: A Graphic Guide. I’m reading up on the subject after a long-running and heated debate about women in games development erupted on my Facebook wall. I’ve always been interested in the topic, but it feminism fascinates me now more than ever, and I’m dead pleased that the debate itself will soon be mentioned in Develop.

We were discussing the “merits” of women in games development, in pretty broad fashion: why they need promoting; if it even merits discussion; and why and how women are discouraged from this and other, supposedly masculine fields. It is in this particular frame that I find myself drawn to Virginia Woolf’s work. To quote Jenainati and Groves’ book:

In A Room of One’s Own, [Woolf] explored the cultural and economic constraints on female creativity, and pondered the historical and political obstacles which have hampered the establishing of a female literary tradition.

Of course, her work also went on to decry the ridiculous social pressures which were put upon those women who dared to have minds of their own. Interestingly, her work also covered a very real and present double standard which is applied to the assertion of feminine sexuality – but I digress. The important point I found was that in the late 1920s, Virginia Woolf was pushing for greater female representation in the literary genre. Books were being written by men, for men and women, with only a masculine viewpoint on who and what women are. Not only does this have an impact upon employment, barring all but a few women writers, but it also has gross a social impact. Women were left to the mercy of an overwhelmingly masculine media view, dictating the value of their own identities worth in society. This does arguably spur the more pioneering women to challenge the medium and write their own stories, but that sort of motion is till fraught with obstacles.

Now look at the present day. I even cited literature in one of these discussions, as an example of a medium with good gender representation: for every J.K. Rowling there’s a Philip Pullman, and for every Stieg Larsson there’s a Patricia Cornwell. But sacrifices had to be made and campaigning had to be done to get to this point. Would anyone argue that diversity amongst authors makes for anything but a better medium?

This is why we need to encourage women into games, with an eye to achieving something more balanced and sensible. Theoretically no woman is actually blocked from this industry (though reports of sexism in the workplace and at interview still crop up), but they are subtly discouraged, certainly in comparison to men. The fact that video games themselves remain a somewhat masculine medium does not help, and it’s likely borne of the cycle in which women are discouraged from designing them, and so a woman’s perspective is not felt in future games’ design process.

It’s hard to argue that games have as much of an impact upon our society as books have done and continue to do, but many academics and developers are making powerful arguments that they can and should. The day may come when, as Jane McGonigal suggests, games will have a social responsibility ingrained in their structure, and that they will achieve good. The pressing question is: will that game be made purely by men?

 

Return to “WarCraft”

November 18, 2010 in Reviews

After a good five months in which my lack of purpose, funding and available time kept me away from World of Warcraft, I have finally renewed my subscription in order to enjoy the Cataclysm prequel events ahead of the expansion’s launch in December. It’s felt quite strange, attempting to engage with the game again after so long. World of Warcraft was my first MMO RPG game; thus it is the only game I’ve had to return to without the luxury of starting at the beginning.

Many patches have passed me by since I played ahead of the Ruby Sanctum, back in June. I expected a few changes as a result of this. The largest of these changes came in the switch from version 3 (Wrath of the Lich King) to version 4 (Cataclysm). Though announced well in advance, the changes this patch brought were sweeping and disruptive. My ‘main’ is a warlock, and she bore the brunt of the biggest changes. The entire warlock mechanic shifted, from gathering Soul Shards as enemies fell in order to power spells, to these reagents now powering upgrades to spells which now required no such soul-draining. The UI changed; my inventory shifted now it was no longer bogged down with bags of 28+ soul shards; Spellstones and Firestones, once applied to my weapons in order to boost spell damage, have become inert mementoes; most of my gear was rendered inappropriate, as outfits featuring spirit no longer provided useful statistics. This on top of the facts my UI had been changed, many character abilities were removed or altered, and my destruction specialisation points had been reset, all made for a hefty bout of housekeeping as I attempted to re-learn the game.

Talent points were reset in order to facilitate widespread change; the panel now comes with useful pop-up tips.

There are some unique challenges inherent in re-learning a character who, at level 80, is expected to be fairly confident in their role within the game. I’ve written about the social expectations within the so-called ‘endgame’ many times before, as peer pressure can mount upon even the most regular of players; this frankly becomes overwhelming when you attempt to engage with the game after a few months’ break. Whereas I would start a console game again from scratch rather than attempt to follow on halfway through a save file, MMO RPGs like World of Warcraft rely upon weeks and months of accumulated knowledge – and often upon the choices made with finely-tuned reflexes as well.

There is, of course, an element of muscle memory involved with these games. Though the rules had changed quite dramatically for warlocks, it didn’t take more than a few hours’ practise for my spell rotations and spacial awareness to kick back in. Trickier was the navigation of my UI, as it had literally taken a year for me to arrange each character’s spells and abilities in such a way that summons, silencers, healing spells and other types of shared ability could be found within roughly the same area on-screen. Now that the number of abilities has actually been reduced for many of these character classes, I find myself having to start again from scratch.

All this adjustment comes within an exciting time for World of Warcraft‘s visiting players. Though I arrived too late for a much-hyped assault upon the Echo Isles – and thus the formation of a home city for the troll race – I came at a time when cataclysmic events have begun to rock Azeroth. Blizzard has arranged similar ‘prequel events’ in the past, such as a largely player-run gathering at the Dark Portal prior to The Burning Crusade and a Scourge invasion upon each faction’s capital to announce Wrath of the Lich King.

Rumblings of the changes this year have been in place for quite some time, with mysterious earthquakes having long rocked the cities of Orgrimmar and Stormwind. Emissaries from both factions – including the disputed Horde warchief, Thrall – have departed Azeroth in order to research the threat, and currently stand at a cliffhanger in quest chains related to the event. City guards also have players working on undermining the persistent Twilight’s Hammer cult, and their efforts to summon elemental beings into each capital. Their efforts have succeeded this very week, as players who might have thought their work against Twilight’s Hammer done were confronted by thunderstorms and inferno.

Blizzard orchestrated their launch of Wrath of the Lich King with vast numbers of undead foes and ice dragons; razing these havens for players of all levels, when often the only threat they’d face would be an organised raid of 40 or more players of the opposing faction. No NPC enemies had been allowed inside these areas of player commerce and training before. Similarly for Cataclysm, the darkening of skies, the cries of desperate citizens and the eventual eruption of elemental portals triggers an invasion which fundamentally disrupts all activity within the city. Players who might have been minding their business in auction houses, guild vaults and smithies will find themselves alone and unable to work; instead they are recruited into war.

Panic strikes the Horde capital of Orgrimmar.

I’ve been deeply impressed with how war efforts have been arranged. As one would expect, it is largely a level 80 player’s game. Weaker elemental foes give way to elites who can only be realistically beaten by high-level players, and once players have beaten the attack back (with help from boss characters like Rexxar, Vol’Jin and Garrosh) they are allowed entrance to four quick boss battles. There is a role for lower-level characters though, as instead of being called to arms they are directed to build barricades and rescued citizens, trapped in elemental prisons. This rather frantic effort runs alongside pitched battles in which your character may find themselves targeted by an indomitable foe, only to be saved by a level 80 ally. The player community does not often come to each other’s aid in this way before, and so it is refreshing to see such change upon the social scene as well as the game world itself.

Are Games Losing Their Identity?

September 28, 2010 in Culture

Games and libraries: rarely do the two mix, but if there are zombies involved, it's fun all 'round.My sister stopped by the family home from university recently; she’s studying English Literature. I spent three years studying video games, and during that time I could barely relate any of what I’d learnt or built to my parents. It seems that anyone can have an opinion or insight into literature, though. Conversation soon bloomed into talk of authors, books set in familiar parts of the world.. even words like “contemporary” manage to creep into the discussion, as it seems society has a fairly mature understanding of literature. Games, however, seem to stifle such talk before it’s even begun.

Every time I was asked about my degree – an inevitable question when having my hair cut – I could rely on one of the following responses:

  • “Oh, my son has a PlayStation 2 – he plays.. oh, what was it? Pro Evo? And Grand Theft Auto, but I don’t know the first thing about games.”
  • “They’re awfully violent, aren’t they?”
  • “I played Pong once, back in the day…”

It still amazes me just how many people actually fill the “I’ve played Pong” stereotype.

I do enjoy a good discussion on violence in games, but most people have their minds firmly set, regarding all games to be as bloody and sadistic as Manhunt. Despite the strong surge in Nintendo’s catalogues for DS and Wii – which are decidedly non-violent – many people seem unable or unwilling to put the likes of Halo, GTA and Street Fighter aside in their outlook. It’s part of a phenomenon which was also remarked upon in The Guardian‘s Tech Weekly podcast this month: consumers regard ‘casual games’ like FarmVille and their mobile ‘apps’ as something entirely separate to games as we know them.

The topic was raised around Edinburgh’s Interactive Entertainment Festival, and the fact it is not labelled as a games festival. I’ve written about online games and worlds enough times to agree that “games” can be a narrow label, and it’s clear to say that the EIEF means to be inclusive to these media. Is this part of a wider dissent though? Are developers eschewing a label which – as I’ve seen first-hand – still calls to mind a scene of violent bloodsports, played in a dingy teenager’s bedroom?

We are witness to the slow decay of the idea of a “gamer”. It used to be that anyone who played games was a gamer, but the medium is now so widespread it is as though players are unaware that they are even playing. The woman who logs into FarmVille twice a day to keep up her harvest does not consider herself a gamer, and nor do those who switch the Wii on occasionally for a family-oriented gaming session. “Gamer”, as speakers on the Guardian podcast suggest, is a term which now sits alongside “film buff”. It describes an enthusiast, rather than a consumer.

So, if self-described gamers like myself are associating ourselves with film buffs and bookworms, what does this suggest about the games we play? Commentators long suggested that gamers would distance themselves from the ‘casual revolution’ of 2007-8, but the opposite seems to have happened. Could it be that ‘games for gamers’ are slipping into cult status, like a Tarantino film or a Greg Bear book?

Likes Facebook

June 29, 2010 in Culture

I am a Facebook user, and have been for a few years. I’ve weathered a number of changes to the UI and its policies, as far back as remembering the day I had to provide my university email address in order to be allowed an account. In those days it was strictly for colleges and universities. The news feed has always been there though, so I’m not that old!

I consider myself to be a conservative Facebook user. I share some status updates between Facebook and Twitter, I share articles of interest with my friends and I ‘like’ my top 5 books, films and artists. I don’t seek out strangers in order to boost my friend count, and the few dozen that I have befriended are carefully arranged in groups in order to hide nonsense from those I’ve networked with, and to keep private information only for those who I trust.

I would wager that every Facebook user knows somebody else who is not so restrained; in fact, it may be you. Time was, these people would forever send me invitations to use Generic ‘Poking/Lifestyle Quiz/Hyped-up Monster Game’ Application. Their friends count would shoot past 300, and any messages left on their wall were smothered by “ALRITE M8″ and other application notices due to sheer bulk.

Through a gradual shift in Facebook’s platform, and some careful culling on my part, I don’t see these sorts of messages any more. Instead, Facebook itself does the spamming, in a small box to the right of my news feed. I am informed, by this entirely unintelligent script, that because a friend of mine likes Wayne Rooney or Glee, I might too. I’m occasionally shown ‘popular pages’ in this slot too, such as links to the Peter Andre fan page or an American pop icon I’ve never come across in my life.

Pages devoted to people and projects are tolerable. My ultimate bugbear, topping even the application invites of old, is the dreaded activity page.

This used to be a phenomenon which manifested as groups, however the rulings on creating communities changed around a year ago and an update to the Facebook profile now generate pages based on what users type into fields like ‘hobbies’ and ‘general’. Coherent phrases like “Tom Smith joined We are the ones your parents warned you about” became “Tom Smith liked We are the ones…”.

It seems that I’m not alone, as this remarkable story attests. I recommend reading it in full, but if you crave a summary, it’s an article by the author of Shut Up, I’m Talking!, Gregory Levey:

Very quickly, I had passed celebrities like Brad Pitt (55 000 fans) and Spike Lee (67 000 fans), as well as entire countries (Spain: 25 000 fans). And as time went on, my book’s page overtook ridiculously famous authors like J.K. Rowling (95 000 fans) and even Dan Brown (499 000 fans). Soon, my book had more fans than New York City (510 000 fans). It was mind-boggling, bizarre, and unnerving, especially since it was unclear what was driving this. Only when I noticed that some of these fans had been posting messages on my page’s “Wall” did I realize what was going on. Their quotes were along the lines of:

“Yeah, I was saying something and my mom broke in, and I was like, ‘Shut Up, I’m Talking!’ LOL!”

Or:

“Cool page! I hate it when people talk over me!”

Perhaps you can see what had been happening. Even though the fan page shows the book’s cover and its synopsis, and informs visitors that it was published by Simon & Schuster, the vast majority of these supposed “fans” were somehow totally unaware that it was referring to a book at all. They had simply joined because they were fans of the phrase “Shut Up, I’m Talking.”

Baffling, no? It’s quite easily done, though: the ‘like’ button, which adds your name to the roster of fans, can be ticked without ever having visited the page. Although a thumbnail is often shown within this box, you can join this page from the comfort of your own news feed. Another variant also places your friends’ ‘like’ updates directly within the news feed as a one-line item. This is all they see:

Ordinarily I write this blog in order to justify my choices and opinion on where games and online media should change. I struggle with Facebook’s ‘like’ culture, because while it may be inane by my standards, it is, nevertheless, a fun feature. Levey has seen his book’s online presence become utterly smothered, and there seems no doubt that he resents this given the effort which went into the project. Tens of thousands of people are now made quite aware of its title, however. While it’s by no means a cultural phenomenon, the exposure may just earn him a few more readers regardless.

While I’m on phenomena, I feel a need to raise the point that this Facebook activity is unique in its roots and actual impact. These sorts of messages play out as cultural memes, as large numbers of people spread a single message. The phrase “Shut Up, I’m Talking!” will not, however, register in the same way as non-Facebook memes. Probably the biggest ‘word on the street’ right now is “vuvuzela”; it is a foreign word which is easy and fun to say, and it is associated with a uniquely annoying phenomenon upon which most people have an opinion. It stands for something. The same could be said of “bow ties are cool”, though it’s narrowed down to fans of Doctor Who, or of other internet phrases like “fail”. I can’t recall Facebook memes ever reaching this level of use.