Golumbia contends that games “are completely or almost completely scripted for the player” (184). There’s an action the player is required to perform in order to “level up.” This desire to beat the game, he argues, mirrors “the lust for power . . . [that] is directly and deliberately embedded in what looks like our own Western view of modernity” (189). Games prepare us for participation in a capitalist system. From an admittedly novice perspective, I want to offer a couple of counter-readings for what it means to play video games:

1) Cheat Codes/Breaking the Rules Golumbia briefly mentions ways of “getting around” the game, specifically how one can buy the opportunity to play on level 70 of WoW. The “getting around” is purely based in economics; one can only “cheat” if one has the resources to do so. However, if one is cheating, isn’t this a purposeful dis-engagement with the rewards/motivation system that these games share so closely with the real world? Golumbia would perhaps argue that people “cheat” in the real world too, especially those who are financially well off. But there are other ways of rigging the game that don’t involve simply spending money. What’s the role of the “cheat code” here? (And unfortunately, my knowledge of “cheat codes” is limited to typing in a bunch of 9’s so I could have infinite money to build my Sim dream house). I’m aware that lots of these codes are built into the games by the programmers themselves, and thus many represent another “prescribed” choice. But players have found other ways to break or hack the system. If playing the game is a reinforcement of capitalism, can messing with the game be considered a distinctly anti-capitalist move?

2) Productivity I’m thinking of Jonathon Crary’s 24/7 here (a book that both Kelly and I have read for another class). Crary contends that neoliberalism/capitalism/whatever wants us to be productive 24/7; we feel guilty when we’re not devoted to meaningful activity. Golumbia suggests games mirror this drive towards productivity, “the digital sense of task completion and measurable accomplishment” (192). Yet he also goes on to mention the excessive amount of time that is spent playing these video games, the role of addiction, and how gamemakers find a “variety of means to extend the player’s interaction” (195). But if we’re playing video games, we are definitively not working or producing real world capital. What if we were to think of gaming as an intentional cog in the wheel of a capitalist system, as in, I’m not playing so I am more capable of producing, I’m playing instead of producing.

3) Aesthetics We’re increasingly seeing the aestheticiziation of video games. The one that immediately comes to mind is That Dragon, Cancer (which I only know through Radiolab) – a game that centers on two parents dealing with their child’s cancer diagnosis. There is indeed a “limited agency” (that Joe mentions) here; the son dies no matter what. Perhaps games like this do open a space for “contemplation and reflection.” But there’s something about this aestheticizing that feels somewhat off-putting. If I’m experiencing a child’s death or third world poverty in Africa as a game, does it amount to a kind of trivialization of the issue at hand? After the game is over, how long does it affect my way of thinking? And do we “play” to be escape from the real world or so we can be more engaged in it?