GAME STUDIES

the international journal of computer game volume 1, issue 1

research July 2001

The Gaming Situation

by Markku Eskelinen

1. Introduction
The first point of departure for this article is a kind of paradox or contradiction. Outside academic
theory people are usually excellent at making distinctions between narrative, drama and games. If I
throw a ball at you I don't expect you to drop it and wait until it starts telling stories. On the other
hand, if and when games and especially computer games are studied and theorized they are almost
without exception colonised from the fields of literary, theatre, drama and film studies. Games are
seen as interactive narratives, procedural stories or remediated cinema (1). On top of everything else,
such definitions, despite being successful in terms of influence or funding, are conceptually weak and
ill-grounded, as they are usually derived from a very limited knowledge of mere mainstream drama or
outdated literary theory, or both. Consequently, the seriously and hilariously obsolete presuppositions
of Aristotelian drama, commedia dell'arte, Victorian novels, and Proppian folklore continue to dominate
the scene. To put it less nicely, it's an attempt to skip the 20th century altogether and avoid any
intellectual contact with it, a consumerist double assassination of both the avant-garde and advanced
theory. The final irony is of course that in the long run such a practice may turn out to be even
commercially incorrect.

In any case, in what follows I'll try to make some sense of what I call the gaming situation by trying
to pinpoint or at least locate the most crucial and elementary qualities that set it apart from dramatic
and narrative situations, both of the latter being rather well-studied constellations by now, and existing
slightly beyond the necessary formalistic phase that computer game studies have to enter in order to
gain independence, or at least relative independence. Historically speaking this is a bit like the 1910s
in film studies; there were attractions, practices and very little understanding of what was actually
going on, not to mention lots of money to be made and lost.

As we study computer games, we need to have some idea of digital media as well as of games. For
that purpose we'll use the theories of Espen Aarseth, Roger Caillois, Warren Motte and David Parlett
in particular. They form a filter through which the possibly heuristic findings and borrowings from
various neighbouring disciplines and predatory theory formations are viewed, tested, modified and
transformed. While discussing articulation, materiality, functionality, typology and orientation, among
other things, we are confronting the bare essentials of the gaming situation: the manipulation or the
configuration of temporal, spatial, causal and functional relations and properties in different registers.

2. Gaming as configurative practice

Regarding the so-called remediation or cross-media influence the simplest possible statement would
be that computer games are remediated games (and not presentations or narratives). So what are
games then? According to David Parlett formal games are systems of ends and means (Parlett 1999,
3). The latter part consists of specific procedural rules of how to manipulate the equipment (pieces or
tokens or whatever).
 Figure 1. The gaming situation

Gaming is seen here as configurative practice, and the gaming situation as a combination of ends,
means, rules, equipment, and manipulative action. There are one or two parallels to draw. First, the
equipment (the "what" of gaming) and manipulation (the "how") of this ludology-in-progress resemble
the story and discourse of narratology. Still, according to the famous statement of Christian Metz "one
of the functions of narrative is to invent one time scheme in terms of another time scheme" (Metz
1974, 18). Contrary to this, in games there's only one necessary time scheme: the movement from
the beginning to the winning or some other situation. In cases where another time scheme is invented,
it is not as important as the first one.

In discussing computer games we should take into account the unique dual materiality of cybernetic
sign production (see Aarseth 1997, 40), and the resulting difference between strings of signs as they
exist in the game (textonic game elements) and strings of signs as they are presented to the player
(scriptonic game elements). It may well be that events in computer games should be described in
three interplaying registers. In addition to textonic events, there are two kinds of scriptonic events:
prefabricated and completed. The former are events presented to the player, and the latter the
combination of the former and the player's actions.

Another quick look at Espen Aarseth's typology of cybertexts (Aarseth 1997, 62-65) should make us
see that the dominant user function in literature, theatre and film is interpretative, but in games it is
the configurative one. To generalize: in art we might have to configure in order to be able to interpret
whereas in games we have to interpret in order to be able to configure, and proceed from the beginning
to the winning or some other situation (3).

In literature, theatre and film everything matters or is conventionally supposed to matter equally - if
you've seen 90% of the presentation that's not enough, you have to see or read it all (or everything
you can). This is characteristic of dominantly interpretative practices in general. In contrast, in
computer games you either can't or don't have to encounter every possible combinatory event and
existent the game contains, as these differ in their ergodic importance. Some actions and reactions in
relation to certain events will bring the player quicker to a solution or help her reach the winning
situation sooner or more effectively than others. There are events and existents the player has to
manipulate or configure in order to progress in the game or just to be able to continue it. Events,
existents and the relations between them can be described at least in spatial, temporal, causal and
functional terms. It's equally self-evident that the importance of these dimensions varies from game
to game and sometimes also within the phases and levels of an individual game.

3. The equipment: situations, events and existents

Situations. In order to understand the equipment side better, it's useful to explore traditional, but
sophisticated accounts of narratives, stories and their basic components. According to Gerald Prince's
well-known definition a narrative is "the recounting (as product and process, object and act, structure
and structuration) of one or more real or fictitious events communicated by one, two or several (more
or less overt) narrators to one, two or several (more or less overt) narratees." Before going into the
details of this definition it is important to note one of its most obvious consequences: "a dramatic
performance representing (many fascinating) events does not constitute a narrative either, since these
events, rather than being recounted, occur directly on stage." (Prince 1987, 58) This is perhaps the
most efficient way of distinguishing narrative situations from dramatic and performative situations. We
can show the main differences among four major situations in the following chart:

Figure 2. Elements, activities and situations

So a mere story is not sufficient to make something a narrative, as there must also be a narrative
situation implying the presence of narrators and narratees. To continue this digression, the story
"always involves temporal sequence (it consists of at least one modification of a state of affairs
obtaining at time t0 into another state of affairs obtaining at time tN), and this is its most distinctive
feature" (Prince 1987, 59). This definition leaves the degree of causality between the situations and
events making up the story open to a wide variety of tastes to the greater or lesser annoyance of plot-
lovers. The latter often conceive stories as mere plots or closed sequences of events, in which case
they should come to grips with games containing open series of events, and that probably can't be
achieved without major revisions in their favourite narrative theories, which are not my concern here
at all.

The fundamental constituents of the story are usually divided into events and existents. It should
already be obvious that it is possible to combine existents and events in ways that do not form or
become stories. In abstract games like Tetris there are settings, objects and events but definitely no
characters. In addition there are events in games that change situations but do not convey or carry or
communicate stories. A goal in a soccer game is an event that changes the situation, but there's no
story in it; a goal is a goal is a goal. The same can be said for most actions and happenings in
performance or circus art. The main thing is of course that any element can be turned into a game
element, and only one element is enough to constitute a game if it allows manipulation, and this fact
alone allows combinations not witnessed in narratives or drama. Consequently, both the number of
game elements and the relations between them can be different in specific ways that are typical of
(computer) games and only of them, and don't have to respect any conventions and traditional
boundaries inherited from oral or written narratives, drama, theatre or films.

Events. In narratology, events are divided into actions and happenings based on their agency, and
into kernels and satellites based on their relative importance. There's also a difference between
punctual acts and more durational actions, and that's about it (Chatman 1978, 32-56). As games
require configurative approaches from the players, satellites are of no importance to them, and in
principle they could and should be skipped (something that's not advisable to do in interpretative
practices). Instead of actions and happenings, we have user events and system events (or intransient
and transient events) in computer games, and events are either independent or dependent of the
player (5). Those latter could be divided into successful and unsuccessful ones that are a bit like happy
and unhappy performatives in speech act theory (6), in contrast to true or false and more or less
important narrative constatives describing (what exists and happens in) the fictive world(s).

Existents. Traditionally, existents are divided into characters and settings based on their significance
for the plot, and they are also divided according to different degrees of permanence into identities,
traits and moods (Chatman 1978, 267). Regarding the significance for a game, it is entirely a matter
of usability or functionality, affecting equally well settings (or event spaces), objects, tools, NPCs and
player representations. Consequently, in computer games the distinction between static settings and
dynamic characters transforms into a more complex continuum of combinations, alterations, and
middle terms, because the distribution of static and dynamic game elements doesn't have to mimic
any practices in other modes of expression and communication.

4. Manipulation and articulation

In discussing Jacques Ehrmann's close reading of Huizinga and Caillois Warren Motte introduces three
basic articulations suggested by Ehrmann's article: the relations of player to player, player to game
and game to world (Motte 1995, 26-27). They can be combined with the most important types of
potentially manipulatable relations in games: the temporal, causal, spatial and functional ones. The
resulting preliminary taxonomical grid can be seen below (Figure 3).

Figure3. Manipulation and articulation

Let's take the player-to-player dimension first, as it helps to describe the player's position and
positioning in the game. In this register static relations are those guaranteed to be and remain equal
(or unchanging) between players in and during the game. Static temporal relations indicate turn-based
arrangements whereas dynamic temporal relations refer to action taken in real time without fixed turns
- here time is a resource not shared or distributed equally among players. Static and dynamic
causalities are somewhat similar to intratextonic and textonic dynamics in cybertext theory (Aarseth
1997, 62), dynamic causality referring to the player's possibilities to add new elements triggering novel
chains of causality into the game (e.g. by building characters, objects and rooms in a MUD). Spatial
relations are static if the players can't change the spatiality of the game world in which case it's only
a ready-made playground however complex it might be in other respects. In contrast, spatial relations
among players are dynamic if the game space can be built or expanded by the players as
in Civilization (7). The static and dynamic functional relations among players refer to the functional
capabilities of their representations (characters) in and during the game: they can either acquire new
qualities and capabilities in the course of the game, or not. One should also make a distinction between
functional similarity and dissimilarity of available roles in a game, as whenever there's a team there is
usually also a division of labour.
When discussing the third articulation, the relation of game to world, it should be remembered this is
not an interpretative or referential question (or if it is then it focuses on the relation between the
simulation and the simulated whatever the latter is interpreted to be). Instead of that I take it to be
operational and pragmatic. Here the category of static relations implies ready-made relations not to
be tampered with. This means that the game is every way closed or separated from the rest of the
world. There are alternatives to this: causal, spatial, temporal and functional connections could well
exceed the confines of a game (8). The dynamic dimension could then be understood as containing
various violations of this default separateness of games.

The second articulation between the player and the game concerns first and foremost the aspect of
manipulation or configuring: what relations can be affected, how deeply, for how long, under what
conditions and so on. Basically, static relations can only be interpreted but dynamic relations allow
manipulation. To continue any further with this, we must study our four types of relation (spatial,
temporal, causal, functional) more closely and find suitable subcategories in each of them. That will
be the focus of the latter half of this essay.

The static/dynamic opposition could be made more detailed by introducing the cybertextual concept
of user function (Aarseth 1997, 64) that could easily be applied to our four major types of temporal,
causal, spatial and functional relations. Each one of the latter may potentially be interpreted, explored,
configured, or changed permanently with the constraint that at least one of these relations must always
be configurable. For example: in Tetris the player can only interpret the space or arena (9), in
adventure games the space exists to be explored; in Civilization the space can be configured; and in
many MUDs you can build permanent new spaces and objects to be shared with other players.
Obviously, there are totally irrelevant things too, but they may be important to learn too, as the
concealed dividing line between relevance and irrelevance can be an essential part of the game
structure.

5. Relations and properties

Causal relations. Let's say your character is an average U.S. president in a relatively complex
environmental world simulation with climate changes. Your task is to represent the complexities of this
world in a simple model the presidential puppet can comprehend and act upon, in a word to reduce
them to suit his worldview. To prevent the game turning into an orgy of continuous annihilation, there's
an extra mechanism for determining what the puppet can and can't do in the game: the central artificial
intelligence responsible for running the president is responsive to a stock exchange and the second-
by-second fluctuations in the market value of certain lobbying industrial complexes. The point being
that in this pompous age of the Internet we could easily design computer games in which real-life or
real-world parameters further limit the player's freedom of action.

The underlying question is where to limit or expand the system of causalities and dependencies; they
can be networked to the user space too, that is, to a complex of home or office or mobile appliances
communicating with each other via Bluetooth. The pokemons on the screen and in your living room
will pretty soon be able to team up and steal your credit card numbers to order reinforcements. In a
little less nightmarish setting, there's potential for connecting games and toys in a player's PAN
(personal area network).

Spatial relations. The spatial dimension could be studied from the perspective of abstract animation
as a combination of spatial co-ordinates and durational values of pixels, but that would not be a very
useful way to approach movement within the projected spaces. In any case, and in addition to on- and
off-screen spaces (all six types of the latter, see Burch 1973,17), it's also important to pay attention
to the uses of both the sonic space (in anticipating visual events, building suspense and surprise, or
preparing the player for the next encounter etc.) and the user space.

In some games the player may have to decide or try to decide exactly where some event should take
place. In others, that's not possible or even important: the killing can happen everywhere in the arena,
and only the rate of occurrence counts. There are at least four important factors affecting the
possibilities and constraints of space: positioning, movement (including its freedom, speed and
direction), the so-called point of view and the access to information. The latter dimension may have
to be divided into interplaying channels, at least one each for audio, visual and textual information.
Spatiality is also a matter of perception; one can only wonder why the military paradigm of complete
clarity and visibility of targets is so prevalent in computer games. There are countless possibilities for
conditioning the player's perceptions by playing with the sharpness of focus, lightning, visibility,
distance, angle, transition and various continuity matches common to cinematic and pre-cinematic
conventions of visual representation, in the spirit of Noel Burch's parametric cinema (see Burch 1973
and Bordwell 1985, 278-279). But for some reason, I can't blacken my opponent's screen.

Conventions. There are a few curiously infrequently discussed conventions of spatial representation
in computer games. They concern reliability, subjectivity and normality. Ask yourself why 2D maps
should always be reliable, or first- and third-person POV's compatible, why everything should be
represented objectively to a player who is always assumed to be in a normal and not altered perceptual
state - and why the space or spatiality in a game is seldom or never self-contradictory. Or why the
player can move a virtual camera but doesn't have to deconstruct or reconstruct or peel its multi-
layered images. Maybe the reason for these peculiarities is that we are still stuck with defining moving
images in terms of pre-digital cinema and its reality-capturing mythology, and with the idea of the
playground that can't be manipulated on the fly as all the players are supposed to share it as a neutral
field all the time.

Unreliability. In narratives and many other kinds of fiction it is acceptable and sometimes even
preferable that users are misled by being given wrong instructions. But in games the deliberate
frustration of action seems clearly to be an intolerable option. One might think of unreliable maps
giving false and incorrect information about the location of the player or of the objects he's seeking -
that's something almost every writer would like to do, and almost every player and game designer to
avoid - the explanation for this difference in taste lies perhaps in the ergodic (pseudo) physicality of
the game. Or in the difference between two kinds of obstacles or modes: lies and riddles.

Interface. There is also an important connection or at least a functional similarity between computer
games and so-called lower forms of cinema, especially the genres that cause or arouse physical
reactions in the viewer-spectator, including melodrama (tears), comedy (laughing), horror (fear) and
pornography (sexual excitement). Certain simulations, especially those loaded with action to be
handled with quick reactions and excellent hand-eye-coordination, often cause physical or physiological
reactions, the control of which is in the best interest of the player. In this respect computer games are
situated in between physical and non-physical games.

This is also a question of interface as there's no reason why the playing of a game could not also be
physically demanding or even exhausting - obviously to achieve the latter goal, we'd need
paraphernalia very different from keyboards and joysticks, or the pressure mat of Dance Dance
Revolution. The relation between the player's psychophysical presence and his or her virtual presence
in a game is usually designed to be both control- and consciousness-oriented (another military
paradigm). However, there are alternatives to this, like Brainscore by Slovenian media artists Darij
Kreuh and Davide Grass, where the users' eye movements and brain waves direct audiovisual objects
and processes. Fully conscious control is thereby denied, and the performers must stay in a relaxed
state of body and mind in order to direct the presentation successfully. Brainscore is not a game, but
its partly parasympathetic control mechanisms could be (and perhaps already are) transported into
the realm of computer games.

6. Example of Temporal Relations: The Phenomenology of Tetris

Temporality can be studied using the same abstract categories as those used for narratives in
narratology, since the categories are neither narrative nor game-like in themselves: order, speed,
frequency, duration, simultaneity, and time of the action. These are specifications of both the actions
of the player and the events the player encounters and is perhaps able to modify in the course of a
game (10).

Janet Murray's approach to Tetris (Murray 1997, 143-144) is an ultimate counterexample to this. She's
quite content to interpret this Soviet game as "a perfect enactment of the over tasked lives of
Americans in the 1990s - of the constant bombardment of tasks that demand our attention and that
we must somehow fit into our overcrowded schedules and clear off our desks in order to make room
for the next onslaught." It would be equally far beside the point if someone interpreted chess as a
perfect American game because there's a constant struggle between hierarchically organized white
and black communities, genders are not equal, and there's no health care for the stricken pieces. Of
course, there's one crucial difference: after this kind of analysis you'd have no intellectual future in the
chess-playing community.

Instead of studying the actual game Murray tries to interpret its supposed content, or better yet,
project her favourite content on it; consequently we don't learn anything of the features that
make Tetris a game. The explanation for this interpretative violence seems to be equally horrid: the
determination to find or forge a story at any cost, as games can't be games because if they were, they
apparently couldn't be studied at all. In contrast, here's a provisional attempt to apply some key
temporal concepts to Tetris, probably the most successful abstract computer game ever (Figure 4).

Figure 4. Temporal relations in Tetris (11)

The dominant temporal relation in (computer) games is the one between user time (the actions of the
player) and event time (the happenings of the game)(12), whereas in narratives it's between story
time (the time of the events told) and discourse time (the time of the telling). Despite possible hybrids
the underlying restrictions of temporality remain the same: there's no narrative without story and
discourse times and no game without user and event times - everything else is optional.

7. The goals and progression of the game

Goals and sub-goals could also be divided into spatial, temporal, causal and functional ones. At least
it's usually easy to choose the dominant one of these, whether it's the task of traversing the space,
completing something in time, plotting out an enemy, gaining more power and wealth in the game
world, or something completely different. In order to understand the progression of a game it is
important to study the deictic orientation of the player. Keir Elam's dramatological model divides this
into spatial, temporal, object, person (13) and action deixis with the further specification between
present and absent entities and processes (Elam 1980, 185-191). It might help us to see the difference
between two game dynamics: the one between present and absent elements, and the other between
present components.

Roger Caillois argued there are four broad types of games, those of agon (competition), alea (chance),
mimicry, and ilynx (vertigo). In all these categories there's also an inherent division into paidia and
ludus, similar to the distinction between play and game. It's only reasonable to suspect we can find
different combinations of these eight possibilities distributed among and inscribed into the
manipulatable relations of game components. It's also clear these broad types create different
expectations and orientations in terms of goals, sub-goals and rules, and in the dynamics of ends and
means; for example in ilynx and alea the player is a passive intrigant (14) whereas in agon and mimicry
she has to be more active.

Not all of these components go or combine easily with the other elements, which is also the reason to
use the concept of the dominant once more. This goes slightly against Caillois' study that excludes
certain combinations like agon-ilynx and mimicry-alea - on the other hand I'm just arguing this is only
or mainly a question of level and hierarchy. It should be easy to imagine a scene dominated by
competitive orientation containing embedded elements of chance, role-play and vertigo, especially if
the latter is taken to mean shocking or perceptually challenging action.

8. Conclusion
The old and new game components, their dynamic combination and distribution, the registers, the
necessary manipulation of temporal, causal, spatial and functional relations and properties not to
mention the rules and the goals and the lack of audience should suffice to set games and the gaming
situation apart from narrative and drama, and to annihilate for good the discussion of games as stories,
narratives or cinema. In this scenario stories are just uninteresting ornaments or gift-wrappings to
games, and laying any emphasis on studying these kinds of marketing tools is just a waste of time
and energy. It's no wonder gaming mechanisms are suffering from slow or even lethargic states of
development, as they are constantly and intentionally confused with narrative or dramatic or cinematic
mechanisms.

Finally, one could argue that computer games, literature and drama/theatre are all equally distant
from the traditional or non-computer games where there's something at stake like death or some other
irrevocable loss. I'm thinking about such all time classics as Russian roulette, certain events, actions
and happenings that took place in the Roman arena and Mesoamerican ball courts, and extreme cases
and consequences of serious gambling. If these are the roots of computer games too, then we may
want to think what to think of possible hybrids of non-computer and computer games (to come via
mobile phones and technologies like Bluetooth or X-10). And with thinking I actually mean thinking
and not various kinds of moral panic witnessed before with comic books, videos, movies, rap, rock,
jazz and other forms of popular culture.

Acknowledgements
I'd like to thank Gonzalo Frasca for getting me interested in ludology or game studies, Espen Aarseth
for providing heuristic theory to be exploited and abused, Ragnhild Tronstad for valuable comments
and suggestions during the writing process, and Julianne Chatelain for saving my English from myself.
Needless to say, mistakes are all mine.
[To the top of the page]

Notes
1. "Curiously", there are no attempts to define games as narratives in Elliott M. Avedon's and Brian
Sutton-Smith's classic The Study of Games (1971) that contains and compresses a century of Western
game studies. The words and contested concepts like narrative, story, drama, or theatre do not come
up even in its subject index. So should we believe that suddenly, by the advent of computer games,
games turned into narratives? Maybe something happened in the marketing department instead.

2. Gonzalo Frasca divides rules into paidia rules defining how the simulation functions and ludus rules
defining the winner or the outcome of a game (Frasca 2001, 9). The concepts of paidia and ludus were
coined by Roger Caillois in his classic study of games Les jeux et les hommes (see Caillois 1979).

3. Despite occasional references I'll exclude MUDs from consideration in what follows. MUDs and MUD
adventure games may very well turn out to contain situations, events and functions too complex to be
fully or adequately conceptualised by the scheme presented here, or perhaps within any one traditional
scheme, be it narrative, performance, or games. See Tronstad 2001.

4. The distinction between matrixed and non-matrixed performances is based on Michael Kirby's "The
New Theatre". For example: "The actor functions within subjective or objective person-place matrices.
The musician (�) is non-matrixed. He attempts to be no one other than himself, nor does he function
in a place other than that which physically contains him and the audience." (Kirby 1982, 326) It should
also be clear that I'm not reducing theatre here to the most boring theatre of words, as there is a huge
continuum and variety of theatre and performance art, and matrixed and non-matrixed performances,
between the two extreme positions presented in Figure 2. In other words, the "dramatic" is just an
extremely story-oriented form or genre of matrixed performances. Alternatively, we might perhaps
construct another continuum from interpretative (theatre) to non-interpretative (performance art) and
configurative (games) performances.

5. For more detailed description of events one could apply four cybertextual categories, those of
dynamics, determinability, transience and perspective. This would give us 24 basic types of events.

6. On theatrical and real performatives, and performatives turning into constatives in MUD adventures
and quests see Tronstad 2001.

7. Alternatively, one could state computer games are usually spatially static in contrast to physical
games like soccer and mobile games, where the players constantly change their (physical and spatial)
positions to each other.

8. These transgressions could be modelled after gambling, hybrid games, Noah Wardrip-Fruin's The
Impermanence Agent, or the presidential example coming up later in this article.

9. We should make a distinction between the arena or spatial setting and the operational space it gives
to the player. The former is only interpretable in Tetris while the latter changes throughout the game.

10. For more detailed specifications see Eskelinen 2001. There might very well exist other temporal
categories worth examining than the six mentioned here. See for example Eskelinen and Koskimaa
2001.

11. Explanation: dotted line = non-existent relation, X= non-manipulatable relation, 0 = manipulatable

relation. Discourse time in narratology is similar to event time in ludology. The former could be seen
as a series or a combination of individual event times, either fixed or semi-fixed as in print or hypertext
narratives or variable as in games. Still, because the time needed to complete a game usually varies
considerably from player to player I prefer to call it event time instead of discourse time.
12. See Aarseth 1998b, 31-41.

13. Person (and object) deixis could be combined with Elliott M. Avedon's interaction patterns. See
Avedon 1971, 424-425.

14. On intrigants, intrigees and intrigues in adventure games see Aarseth 1997, 97-128.

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