All posts by Carolyn Stallard

Guest Blogger: David Seelow – Close Reading

ATTN: The deadline for proposal submissions for the CUNY Games Conference 5.0 has been extended to Dec. 1st, 2018. Click here to learn more.


This week, we take a pause from Mary Gross’ four-part series to feature a post from Dr. David Seelow, Professor of English at the College of Saint Rose in Albany, NY. In addition to his role at Saint Rose, David Seelow is the founder of the website/blog Revolutionary Learning (http://www.revolutionarylearning.net) and the Editor of Lessons Drawn: Essays on the Pedagogy of Comics and Graphic Novels (McFarland 2019).

David’s post is intended for professors of literature and similar subjects but is equally applicable to a broader audience. As he writes, “My experience over the last 15 years has been that students read less now and that reading less, much less in many cases, results in a serious decline in skills. However, a decline can always be reversed and that’s one reason for my writing this blog.”

David’s ideas for treating video game walkthroughs and other alternative forms of content critique as close reading are certainly relevant to pedagogical practices in our changing society.  His writing reminded me of a panel at New York Comic Con this past October, in which the presenters (educators and scholars themselves) encouraged the audience to consider comic books as primary sources in our teaching. Here, David suggests with video games what the panelists proposed with comic books:  “Being able to closely analyze a text, whether a poem, a film, or now, a video game has clear relevance to a student’s ability to think critically in multiple contexts.”


Video Games in the English Classroom
David Seelow, Ph.D.

 

Why Close Reading?

One of the chief benefits of taking a literature class continues to be the development of deep reading skills.  No discipline fosters deeper and more attentive reading than literature precisely because no form of writing represents more multilayered, complex and nuanced use of language than good literature. In an era where so many people, including students, read from the web, deep reading becomes an even more valuable skill than in my long past student days. As the skill becomes rarer its value increases.

Literary criticism is the art of close reading. One of my mentors, the late renowned theater critic Jan Kott, taught a graduate course called The Art of Interpretation, and criticism was one of the 5 areas of my oral examination, so I have a finely calibrated appreciation for the art and science of deep reading. A class steeped in reading great literature can be easily modeled for the study of video games. For avid gamers, stepping back from game play to examine what makes a game work gives the player a new appreciation and understanding of a game. At the same time, literature students can apply their skills to a form of new media that has increasing importance in students’ lives.  I sometimes question the value of asking students to write term or research papers that rehash or regurgitate the research and reading of scholars and result in a very derivative essay cast in an academic style well removed from the context of most students’ future careers. Yes, there is value in learning proper research and research writing, but its prioritization needs to be placed in the context of 21st century media. On the other hand, being able to closely analyze a text, whether a poem, a film, or now, a video game has clear relevance to a student’s ability to think critically in multiple contexts.

In the game world, the idea of well-played, as in a journal of that name: Well Played: a journal of video games published by Carnegie Mellon University’s Entertainment Technology Center Press. This journal’s mission clearly situates the concept of well-played in close relationship to what we in English might call well read:

The Well Played Journal is a forum for in-depth close readings of games that parse out the various meanings to be found in the experience of playing a game. It is a reviewed journal open to submissions that will be released on a regular basis.

 Contributors are encouraged to analyze sequences in a game in detail to illustrate and  interpret how the various components of a game can come together to create a fulfilling playing experience unique to this medium. Through contributors, the journal will     provide a variety of perspectives on the value of  games.

 The goal of the journal is to continue developing and defining a literacy of games as well as a sense of their value as an experience. Games are a complex medium that merits careful interpretation and insightful analysis. By inviting contributors to look closely at games and the experience of playing them, we hope to expand the discussion and show how games are well played in a variety of ways.

     The description perfectly fits the goals of many literature courses and programs. Even the journal’s name Well Played echoes the great Cleanth Brook’s text The Well Wrought Urn: Studies in the Structure of Poetry (1947). Brooks’ work can be considered the seminal work of new criticism and his close reading of richly textured, famous poems like John Donne’s “The Canonization” (a line in this dense poem offers the title for Brooks’ text) or W.B. Yeats’ “Among School Children.”

Close reading, of course, is only one of the many forms of literary interpretation, but I would argue students of literature, games, and film best learn first through “new criticism” because the other forms of interpretation begin where close reading ends, and, you need a good understanding of the text itself before applying more fanciful styles of interpretation. I say fanciful only to indicate readings that stray from the object of study itself as a self-contained unit; self-contained in that form and meaning are interdependent dimensions of the text and intrinsic to its language without reference to extra textual factors like the author’s biography or the social context at the time of the text’s creation. These are extremely important factors for appreciating the depth and breadth of great literature, but first read the text!

I pursued graduate study during the explosion of post structuralist thought and my first book (Seelow, 2005) used many contemporary theories in reading D.H. Lawrence; however, I started my inquiry with Lawrence’s prose and lyrics. I knew no critic writing about Lawrence could ever approximate the beauty and power of Lawrence’s own words (such critics commit what Cleanth Brooks would call “The Heresy of Paraphrase”). Oddly, during the 1980s I sometimes became disillusioned with English professors who would write and talk so intelligently and passionately about theory, but, ironically, seemed to have less passion and less understanding about the literature they were expounding upon. Perhaps literary theory needs to be considered independent of literary criticism, but criticism, which I advocate here, begins and ends with literature or the text proper. Close reading is primary.

In reading a video game, like reading a poem or short story, you look at all the interconnected parts: narrative, voice, setting, plot, characterization, symbols, themes, irony, meter, or music in the case of a game, imagery or game art, genre, and game mechanics or rules, which in literature can be thought of as conventions (a sonnet’s 14 lines, an ode’s elevated tone, etc.).

After close readings of a game, the students can move on to interpret video games through the same variegated lens that they would interpret a short story or film: psychoanalytic, Marxist, feminist, post structuralist, historicist, reception theory, queer theory, and race (Parker, 2008). Each theory will disclose something different and valuable about a game and any theory can be applied with value to any game, though some theoretical lens might be a better fit for certain games, say Grand Theft Auto and feminism, but such obvious applications, might not yield the originality of less obviously applications (maybe a Marxist reading of the GTA series and the class dynamics of urban America).

Classroom Implementation

I have previously written about the value of using video games as replacements or alternatives to textbooks, and I extend that belief to urge the inclusion of video games in literature classes as an object of close reading. Further, in Game Design or Game Studies programs I would urge the inclusion of some literature for the same reasons as I would include a video game in a literature course. An aesthetic object demanding close attention to detail; the minutiae of the game or poem brings about a deeper appreciation for the object and a realization that the final poem or game is more than the sum of closely examined parts.

Student choice is always valuable if you provide some parameters and ask that the game be relevant to the course’s theme or field of inquiry. For my class on cyberculture, I ask students to analyze a game of their choice related to the theme of the course. Given how often the course addresses artificial intelligence, most students have no trouble selecting an interesting game. Choices included Bioshock Infinite (Irrational Games/2K Games, 2013), which, though set in 1912, represents current and future class conflict, Fallout Vegas (Obsidian/Bethesda, 2010) a great post-apocalyptic survival game following about future war between nations or between man and robot, both being a key course themes, Xenogears (Squaresoft, 1998), a Japanese anime flavored role playing game with a strong religious/metaphysical foundation and strong machine-man theme, and an especially popular recently released game Fortnite (Epic Games, 2018), which seems to be an open world environment with strong zombie apocalyptic (in this case, following a massive world-wide storm) tones and themes.

Although I preferred a written analysis for this assignment, I still gave students an alternative whereby they could offer a close reading through a walkthrough or video blog. Walkthroughs are a form of close reading on the fly as the player comments during play, and they are perfect for millennials who can easily learn to make them. There are numerous examples at the website Game Anyone. One student did a walk through of Half Life 2 (Valve, 2004), and another student, a female, did a walkthrough of the cyberpunk side scrolling game Dex (Dreadlocks, Ltd., 2015). The latter provides an interesting perspective from the student’s focus on the protagonist’s sexuality. Given Dex is a cyberpunk heroine in a genre noted for its male protagonists, I found her perspective especially illuminating. Another female student offered a video blog commentary on gender in Deus Ex: Human Revolution. I had shown the class examples of Anita Sarkeesian’s superb Feminist Frequency blog, which clearly made a positive impression on some of the students as indicated by this one student artifact.

Although this may seem obvious, I want to state the obvious here. Most close reading addresses poetry for practical reasons. You can manage to close read a lyric poem during a single class period. After all Brooks reads Wordsworth’s “Ode to Intimations of Immortality” not his epic poem “The Prelude.” Students can also manage to close read a short story during class, but close readings of a novel or drama are better confined to a single chapter or scene. Likewise, close readings of a game would best begin with a game or games that can be played within the duration of a class period. A second obvious point worth mentioning is that the professor or teacher should model a close reading of a poem or video game before asking students to do the same. Modeling gives students clear parameters on what to expect, what to look for, and how to perform a solid close reading. Reading an article by a professor or teacher is a fine supplement, but not a substitute for live modeling by an instructor.

A Note on Practice

One potentially illuminating activity would be to conduct a version of I.A. Richard’s (1929) early- proto practical criticism experiment on reading poetry, with reading video games. Richards, a professor of English at Cambridge University, would give his students (mostly honors students) sheets of anonymous poems to read over a one-week period and keep track of their close readings on note paper. Richards considered this a psychological experiment in that he was studying how students thought about poetry. It was as much about the reading process (what we now call reader response theory) as poetry interpretation. The anonymity allowed students to demonstrate their own thought process without relying on scholars’ critical readings. In the age of the Internet such original readings are important. Students first, almost automatic response, today is to look at Wikipedia or some other website and use the interpretations (often professional, though not always illuminating) they find there as the meat of their own readings, which then end up being highly derivative with little genuine critical thinking. Consequently, allow students to approach a text with fresh eyes and play a video game in class that they are unlikely to have played before hand and comment on the experience.

Let me pause momentarily to clarify common student misconceptions about opinions and correctness in close reading by briefly talking about what E.D. Hirsch, Jr. calls validity in interpretation (1973). Students must learn that not all interpretations are not equally valid. I.A. Richards argument maintains, as the subtitle of his book evidences, that interpretation is a judgment about distinguishing between good and bad, effective and ineffective writing. There are well wrought poems and there are ill wrought poems (more of the latter). The same can be said of video games, some are well designed, and many are not. Students need to know what makes one poem or game well wrought and another ill wrought.  Part of being educated demands the ability to make clear judgments and evaluate artifacts and products with acumen. The ability to judge and value will extend across many domains in the student’s life, so poetry or games are perfectly good places to begin developing this ability.1

In learning what makes a well wrought poem or a well wrought video game a student will also learn the same degree of validity applies to their close readings. Interpreting is not just stating one’s “opinion” and not all readings are valid, “it’s just my opinion” (in Richards’ experiment only 30% of his honor students made what he considered valid readings of the poems). In describing a valid reading Richards does not therefore maintain that there is a single correct or true interpretation, which many students and some professionals continue to misunderstand. On the contrary, new critics argue that no correct or final interpretation of a poem is possible. Brooks emphasizes over and over that the “inner essence of a poem” (261) always eludes any single reading. A poem can never be reduced to a prose statement or translation. This is the nature of art. Learning this fact will help students both appreciate the art of art and the art of interpretation, i.e. deep reading at its best.

Richards’ experiment revealed some disconcerting evidence to the professor (Richards, by the way, was one of the greatest readers of poetry in the 20th century). Students at one of the world’s best universities, studying a major that featured poetry, produced miserable results. Richards’ book, based upon his classroom experiment (which we today we call action research), outlined ten problems (pp. 12-15) students seem to experience with reading poetry and he addressed each of these ten at length in his book.  Richards’ overwhelming impression concerned his honor students’ “mental inertia.”  If Richards was a touch distraught by the poor reading habits of honors students at Cambridge in the 1920s I suspect, he would have trouble finding words for what he might discover today. My experience over the last 15 years has been that students read less now and that reading less, much less in many cases, results in a serious decline in skills. However, a decline can always be reversed and that’s one reason for my writing this blog.

Richards used his findings to argue for the value of a course or program in the art of interpretation. He ends the book with a dire prognosis and a call for the value of Humanities by stating how technology (this well before the web was even imagined):

We defend ourselves from the chaos that threatens us by stereotyping and standardizing both our utterances and our interpretations. And this threat must be insisted, can only grow greater as world communication, through the wireless and otherwise improve (319).

I would argue we are on the verge of that chaos now and the lack of reading, especially attentive reading and attention to what we experience as both text and world can only have negative consequences. Stereotyping our response to poetry after all goes hand in hand with stereotyping the people and documents we encounter daily, and the strong tendency to “confirmation bias”.  Our unwillingness to see beyond our own stock response to the world of the text closes off genuine interpretation, communication and dialogue. In the game world, the entire Gamergate nightmare, can be read as this inability to read well. If students learn to read well they will play well. A well-played game like a well-read poem makes all the difference as Robert Frost might have said.

Note

  1. The need to evaluate is every present. Is the news report real or fake? If we are fortunate enough to dine at Nobu in Manhattan we expect a well-wrought, i.e. well-prepared meal, but grabbing a meal from the tray at McDonalds we expect no such careful preparation, and we will not receive it. If students don’t learn to make valid judgments they might wind up with a house of straw not a house of brick in very windy world.

References

Brooks, Cleanth. The Well Wrought Urn: Studies in the Structure of Poetry.  Harvest Books, 1947.

Hirsch, E.D., Jr. Validity in Interpretation. Yale University Press, 1973.

Parker, Robert Dale. How to Interpret Literature: Critical Theory for Literary and Cultural Studies. Oxford University Press, 2008. This book discusses the major schools of literary theory. It is both descriptive and critical. Chapter two addresses “New Criticism” (pp. 9-39).

Richards, I.A. Practical Criticism: A Study of Literary Judgment. Harvest Books, 1929.

Seelow, David. Radical Modernism and Sexuality: Freud/Reich/D.H. Lawrence & Beyond. Palgrave Macmillan, 2005.


Are you interested in being featured on the CGN website? If so, submit a blog post on any topic related to GBL in higher ed., and/or send links/descriptions of your blogs to contactcunygames@gmail.com. Stay tuned for another guest contribution next week. 

Guest Blogger: Mary Gross – Distrust and Greed

This week, we continue our four-part series from guest blogger Mary Gross, Associate Professor of History at Marian University of Wisconsin (click here to read her first entry). Mary’s second post explores how the mechanic of hidden information can lead to distrust and greed among players learning about market bubbles, Group Threat Theory, and Scapegoat Theory. It is important to note that Mary’s games each include a debrief; in educational settings a game can be useful on its own, but is almost always more effective when a debrief/discussion of players’ experience accompanies it.

REMINDER: Proposals for The CUNY Games Conference 5.0 must be submitted by Nov. 10th, 2018 for consideration. To learn more, click here. 


Part II: Distrust and Greed
by Mary Gross

In the previous blog, I wrote about the foundational ideas of using games to increase students’ historical empathy skills.  Rolling dice and instant death mechanics increased student awareness of why soldiers during World War I often wrote in fatalistic terms and why they were so devoted to other soldiers.  This blog will explore the use of varying values, trade, and hidden information to help students make sense of communities devolving into dysfunction as the result of greed and distrust.

When reading about the 1920s economy which culminated in the stock market crash of 1929, students are often dismayed.  They think, “People were stupid.” They didn’t realize that what goes up always comes down. Discussing the 2008 market crash doesn’t help them develop empathy because they were in grade school and didn’t have stocks.  To them, 2008 is only slightly less distant than 1929. To help them gain empathy with the people who created the conditions of market bubbles, I created the “Don’t Lose Your Marbles” game.

At the beginning of the game, each student receives a bag which contains an identical amount of fake money and a set amount of marbles.  They are told that the goal of the game is to have the most assets (value of marbles plus cash on hand) and to obtain the assets through the buying and selling of marbles.  They are told that prettier marbles are worth more money than ugly marbles. No other measure of value is given.

The ambiguity of the situation leads to some awkwardness in the beginning, but soon students are actively bargaining.  The more entrepreneurial among them make dramatic statements about the rare beauty of the humblest marbles in an attempt to get a better price.  As play continues, the amounts of money paid increases as does the energy in the room. After about 15 minutes, I announce that no marble is worth more than $20, thus crashing the market.  Students are then allowed 5-10 more minutes to trade.

The game relies on hidden information, the value of the marbles, as its core mechanic and for its emotional punch.  They are given only a few hints regarding the true information. One is valid, in creating my chart of marble values, I used my measure of “pretty” to determine the values.  The other is invalid. The money they are given ranges from $10,000 bills to $1 bills. This gives the illusion that the marbles must be worth a lot of money, thus leading them to falsely believe, as many people do, that value is based partially on the amount of money one has to spend on it.

In the debrief, it is not uncommon to learn that some students paid $15,000 or more for a marble.  They are quite upset when the market falls. The more economically savvy students sell their marbles and keep the cash.  Some marbles, usually the shooters, have been bought and sold multiple times, with the market price increasing with each sale, again mimicking behaviors seen in many market bubbles.  During the debrief, students speak with pride or shame about their actions. “How could I have been so stupid” is an irrational but very common statement, allowing for the lesson to be driven home.  Market bubbles lead people to act on greed and hope, emotions that often create decisions which people regret.

Another game “The Tragedy of the Hat” involves a different form of hidden information.  The winner at the end of the game is the person who has the most number of magic points.  As a simulation of the Tragedy of the Commons, students are told that I have a magic hat (a Pilgrim type hat I bought for a Thanksgiving decoration).  The hat is magic, but the magic is limited. If everyone uses their fair share of the magic, everyone benefits. If a few people use more than their fair share, they will prosper.  If too many people use more than their fair share, the hat’s magic will be lost. The total amount of magic in the hat is revealed and students may choose how much of the magic to use in each round.

The game is played in five rounds.  At the beginning of the first round, each student has five points of magic, which can be put in the magic hat.   In each round, students are allowed to talk among themselves and determine collectively how many magic points they will put in the hat.  After they are allowed to talk things over, each student secretly writes down a number between zero and five on a slip of paper and places it in the hat.    The directions clearly state that agreements of the whole are not binding. Students are free to write down as many or as few points as they want and no one, other than the professor, will know how many points they actually put in the hat.

I total up the number of points students have put in the hat and announce only the total.  No student knows what any other student wrote down. If the total is below the total magic in the hat (predetermined based on the number of students), students double the amount of points they put in the hat.  If the total of the points in the hat exceeds the magic of the hat by between one and five points, students lose half of the points they put in the hat. If the total points added to the hat exceeds the magic of the hat by more than five points, the hat is broken and students lose all of the points they put in.  They then begin the next round.

The announcement of the total number of points put in the hat reveals only if some students have not stuck to the agreement.  The conversations in subsequent rounds are dominated by growing distrust and blame. I often have to step in to stop students from blaming one or two students, explaining that they don’t know who is putting how many points in the hat.  Those who have violated community agreements are frequently the most vocal in blaming innocent students. Their reactions demonstrate engagement and emotional investment in the game. Sometimes students will demand that everyone show the slips of paper on which each student writes the number of points he or she will put in the hat.  Significant social force is placed on all students in this case. In other classes, trust completely breaks down and there are no negotiations in the later rounds. Students display frustration and an eagerness for the game to be over.

Because tensions tend to rise quite high in the game, a careful debrief is important.  It is important that the information about who put in how many points is never revealed.  The feelings of distrust are discussed carefully as are the ways in which people reacted to their feelings.  The debrief offers the opportunity to discuss Group Threat Theory and Scapegoat Theory as common ways in which community spirit can be broken down and how innocent people can easily be targeted by a group.  Students who have been frustrated or disappointed are allowed to process those emotions. The debrief concludes with actual Tragedy of the Commons experiences which allow students to see the complexity and humanity involved in individual decisions.

In both games, there is a finite resource.  There are only so many marbles, so much money, and a set amount of magic in the hat.  Variations come about as students try to maximize their own outcomes. Greed becomes a factor in both games.  The uncertainty regarding the hidden information allows students’ greed to take over. The energy that is generated as students pursue their own goals, even as they try to work as a community, is palpable to all.

In life, hidden or unknown information is common.  Any investment in the stock market, any purchase, any use of a public resource entails a balance of risk and reward.  Greed often leads to negative outcomes for communities even as the greedy are rewarded. “That’s not fair” is the most frequent comment heard during the debrief.  This allows for the discussion of historical market bubbles and misuse of community resources. Although it is never possible to tell if students take use of these lessons into their own lives, their papers and exams reflect a deeper understanding of why people in the past have chosen to make seemingly irrational decisions which caused harm to themselves or others.


Are you interested in being featured on the CGN website? If so, submit a blog post on any topic related to GBL in higher ed., and/or send links/descriptions of your blogs to contactcunygames@gmail.com. Stay tuned for another guest contribution next week. 

Guest Blogger: Mary Gross – Tension and Fear

This week, we feature the first entry in a four-part series by guest blogger Mary Gross, Associate Professor of History at Marian University of Wisconsin, who has been designing games for history, political science, sociology, and first year studies courses for more than 20 years. Her post begins with an introduction to the series, followed by an entry on a game featuring the mechanics of instant death and dice rolling.

Bio: Mary holds a BA from University of Wisconsin-Green Bay in Urban and Public Affairs, MA in History from Texas A&M, Ph.D. in History from the University of South Carolina, and a Masters Certificate in Game Design from Michigan State University. She teaches a wide variety of courses including introductory courses in Sociology and American Government, World History survey courses, upper level European, Latin American, and Middle Eastern courses, and special topic courses including the History of Sex, History of Terrorism, History of Disease.  More recently, she began teaching courses in Game Design.


Introduction
By Mary Gross

In the past few decades, innovations in primary and secondary history education have focused on analytical skills including critical reading of primary source documents, analysis of change over time, and the development of arguments based on historical evidence. Sam Wineberg and others have challenged history educators to go beyond teaching facts and begin teaching the thinking skills regularly employed by historians. Not only are students able to learn some of these skills, learning the skills is likely to increase student interest in history.

The problem is developing activities which allow students to fully engage with a topic that can seem abstract and is, in reality, distant from them in both time and space.  My students are not likely to take part in revolutions. With any luck, they will not fight wars or live through famines. Many will never travel widely and it is highly unlikely that any will travel back in time.  Fostering a connection between twenty-first century students and historical people and events demands that teachers and professors develop activities that lead students to become emotionally involved with the past, a skill referred to as historical empathy.  

The term historical empathy has been described in a variety of ways.  Some writers have focused on the cognitive skills commonly referred to as perspective taking or contextualization.  Others have seen it as an affective response, understanding the actions or beliefs of another by feeling the same emotions.  Still others have combined the two, referred to as a Cognitive-Affective Spiral in which the cognitive creates a spark of interest which leads to more study.  With greater study, affective experiences help maintain the interest and lead to understanding of the complexity which deepens the cognitive understanding, allowing a cycle to begin.

Regardless of the definition of historical empathy, this skill is worth fostering among students.  Empathy for people in the past is easily transferred to people in the present. Games, because of their immersive qualities and the intrinsic motivation they encourage are an excellent way to foster historical empathy.  This four part series will focus on mechanics which facilitate the development of historical empathy. It is hoped that the series will help educational game designers create games which intentionally develop this important skill


Part I: Tension and Fear
By Mary Gross

Even in a sanitized textbook, the horrors of World War I are apparent.  Students are quick to see the futility of trench warfare on the Western Front.  In discussions, students argue that they would have refused to get out of the trenches and fight.  As a result, they see the soldiers as pitiful pawns or ignorant automatons. Allowing them to experience a shallow sense of the fear and sheer randomness of life in the trenches changes their views of the soldiers who faced the full experience.

“Over the Top” is a simple game played on a PowerPoint board, projected on to a screen.  Students are lined up in random order and ordered into the board’s No Man’s Land. Each step forward requires them to roll a 100 sided die.  If they roll a 1-4, they receive a chest wound and remain in No Man’s Land. A roll of 50-53 results in a leg wound, also stranding them in the field of battle.  A 98-100 results in instant death. The odds are consistent with injury and death rates in the first days of the Battle of the Somme. Students in the second and third ranks, must move forward and roll the dice as they replace their fallen comrades.  Just as they reach the barbed wire on the far end of the battlefield, retreat is called, and they can roll the dice and try to get back to the trench safely. Once all of the able bodied students are safe back in the trench, they can go back out to No Man’s Land and save a friend, rolling again to get to the friend and then to return to the trench.  The game continues until all of the wounded are returned to the trench, all of the students are wounded or killed, or those in the trench decide to remain safe and not rescue any more of their comrades. After the game, students write a reflection on how they felt rolling the dice or their decision whether to rescue fallen comrades.

The mechanics are simple.  Roll and move. Students’ reactions are more complex.  Students write about a feeling of dread as they pick up the dice and the relief they feel when they are “safe.”  They express their anger and frustration at being shot and having to wait to see if they would survive. Some lucky few are far enough back in the ranks that they don’t ever have to roll the dice.  Some are thankful. Others wanted their chance to face the results.

The call of retreat brings about shouts of “I was almost there!” and “Thank God!”  Regarding the choice to rescue a friend, elicits similar complex emotions.

Students wrote about how they know that their friend would have rescued them and that soldiers are like family members.  They can’t be left behind. Some students steadfastly refuse to rescue others. They reflect on their decision in interesting ways.   One student wrote, “I wasn’t going to rescue anyone. They were calling for me to rescue them, but I thought, ‘I don’t care. I’m not going to die out there.’”

They do not, of course, ever face any actual harm, but emotions run high every time the die is picked up.  Dice rolling is an activity which seems to create drama and so it is particularly useful to create tension and fear.  It is, in effect, casting your lot to the winds of fate. But dice rolling also acts in engaging students in “magical thinking” that their hand or the way in which they shake the dice can, somehow, influence what happens.  This adds to the perception of agency and control. Because they feel agency in the rolling of the dice, they also feel somewhat responsible for the outcomes. All of this heightens tensions in a way that having someone else roll the dice would not.  Dice rolling also involves a period of uncertainty between when the dice leaves the hands and when it comes to a stop. This makes dice rolling more dramatic than flipping a card. The possibility of cocked dice or dice tumbling off the table increases the tension even further as this requires the whole dice rolling process to be completed again.

Including the mechanic of instant death amplifies the tension inherent in dice rolling.  With each roll, the student can be out of the game, sent off to the left side of the room which, for the purposes of the game, is called the afterworld.  They then watch as play continues. Because of the agency they felt in rolling the die, they often feel disappointed and express frustration with the unfairness of the game.

Normally, a game that involves only luck would not be appropriate for learning, but in the case of trench warfare on the Western Front during World War I, survival was often a matter of pure luck.  It induced in soldiers a feeling of fatalism and frustration, but also an intense devotion to the others soldiers. Having played the game, students are able to better understand the fatalistic tone often found in the soldiers’ poems, prose, and letters home.  

In their reflections and the conversation after the game students demonstrated their understanding that the feelings of tension and fear they experienced were similar in type, if not in scope, to what the World War I soldiers must have felt.  Even knowing that they were all still going to be alive at the end of the game did not prevent them from worrying as they waited their turn to roll the dice.

The world is full of randomness and history provides many of examples in which this mimics many experiences people have experienced in the past.  Every ship that ventured into the sea stood a chance of failure. Every battle ever fought contained random elements. Histories of entire nations were dramatically altered by unimaginably random events such as Henry II of France who, while jousting, had a lance hit his helmet.  It broke apart and one splinter went into his eye with such force that it penetrated his brain, killing him. His wife, Catherine de Medici, then ruled as regent while her three unlucky and/or sickly sons each took the crown in turn.

Textbooks tend to present history as a simple linear narrative, free of other possibilities and “what ifs”.  Games which use mechanics of dice rolling and instant death can help students to see that the people who were living at the time didn’t have a linear narrative to follow.  For them tomorrow was full of possibilities, just as the students’ own lives are full of possibilities. This realization increases their empathy with the people they find in the textbook both on a cognitive level and an affective one.


Are you interested in being featured on the CGN website? If so, submit a blog post on any topic related to GBL in higher ed., and/or send links/descriptions of your blogs to contactcunygames@gmail.com. Stay tuned for another guest contribution next week.