Hashtag Perspective

It's been a while, guys. I know. "Why did you stop posting?" you all ask me. "I need something to read while on the toilet," you say. Well, your pleas have been answered--don't worry. You can all stop pestering me day-in and day-out for another post. Seriously. It's all I hear about.

I've been pretty damn busy lately. A lot of you probably already know this because--and this may come as a shock to some of you--GSAS majors actually do a substantial amount of work. At least, we do when we're taking Game Development I. I finally had some time to breathe, so I decided to go get a milkshake at 4 am with some friends. It was a damn good milkshake. Now, however, I'm not tired in the slightest, so I thought I'd share with you all of my recent musings.

It's come up quite a lot lately that "a fair number of arguments are actually not logical arguments, but rather arguments about language and definitions." The reason it comes up so often is probably because I hang out with a lot of very self-aware people. I've become quite introspective, myself, and it's led me to start thinking a lot about perspective (knew that was coming from the title, didn't you? Very astute of you. Very astute). How I view the world is (obviously) different from the way everyone else views the world. This is true for pretty much everyone. You didn't need me to tell you this.

"So everyone is different," you say, "we all already knew that." Hush. This is my blog. Stop interrupting me. How are you even doing that, anyway? Better yet, how did I know that's what you were going to say? I didn't. I'm bluffing.

I've realized lately that I'm very "in-the-middle" about a lot of things. I'm both a programmer and an artist. I'm both logical and empathetic. I like chocolate and vanilla because they're both viable flavors in their own right (I'm both being serious and joking right now)! I think it's good to be in the middle on a lot of things, because that's the way I was raised--to try to see both sides of an issue--and it's made being an observer very interesting.

Back home, I always felt like I was more logical than empathetic. I think, in the grand scheme of things, I heir on the side of logic when compared to the human race on the whole. At RPI, however, it seems as though the concentration of logical thinkers is very high, which makes me seem more empathetic when compared to the surrounding population. Because now I tend to heir on the side of empathy when it comes to debates and discussions, I've started to view a lot of topics differently. I make more concessions, now--rather than laying it on thick with the logic. I guess really I'm embracing the balance of empathy and logic that I already had, and coming to find it a very intriguing trait of humans on the whole.

Going back to perspective, though, I think it's interesting how a few of the people I talk to regularly think very differently than I do. There is someone who I've referred to as "essentially my opposite" on more than one occasion, and I find myself consistently intrigued by her differing views. There is something to be said for always getting a fresh perspective on trivial things that you may have taken for granted. Everyone's life is different, and everyone was raised in a different way.

Often times I'll argue with fellow GSAS majors what qualifies as "good design", and I've found that everyone has their own preferences ("Duh," you say. Shhh. We talked about this earlier). Some people are willing to look past their preferences, however, and design games that they, personally, might not like. These are the designers I hold in the highest regard.

Dr. Marc likes to say that "there are many aspects to a game, and a lot of things that you won't really care about, but somebody has to." I've decided that I want the mechanics of my games to feel "solid"--though if you ask me what I meant by the term "solid" I don't know that I could tell you. I've decided that "good UI" is crucial to a game, but I couldn't quantify what was "good" and what wasn't without examples. I'd like to think this is the perspective I bring to a game design team, and that everyone will at least understand why I focus on these two things first and foremost. I hope that people appreciate my insight as much as I appreciate theirs, and understand my definitions of "solid" and "good", even if they don't completely agree.

I think I've sort of made it clear already, but one of the points I wanted to get across with this post is that I may be "in-the-middle", but that doesn't mean I don't have opinions. Pretty clear I've got opinions seeing as I have a blog, in which I write about my opinions. I mean, duh. My opinions, however, are not as radical as some people might assume. One thing I've noticed about arguments is that, usually, each person picks a side. That's kind of how it goes. However, just because I've picked a side does not mean that I won't make concessions to the other side. I try to make concessions when I can, but sometimes I don't get the chance to. A lot of times I feel as though the people I'm arguing with don't think I'm being genuine when I make a concession to their side, which I always find weird, honestly. Do not enough people do this? Does it really throw people for a loop when I agree with them immediately after disagreeing with them? Does it make me fickle? Or does it just make me empathetic?

I'll admit--it's hard for me to make up my mind on a lot of issues. If I ever say anything contradictory it's probably because I believe each statement to a certain extent--not that I'm lying about my true opinions. Honestly, it's because I'm trying so hard to be transparent about what I believe that I contradict myself so much, weird as that is. I'm very prone to "paralysis by analysis". That said, I think that it's difficult to make a statement that can go either way on a topic that is currently being argued. I think that, in the scope of an argument, people take what I say as way more absolute than I mean it to be. Please don't. Really. I very rarely work in absolutes, and it's frustrating when people assume that I do.

This is running very long, so I think I'll end it here. I just want to finish by referencing The Phantom Tollbooth (which, if you haven't read, you should totally go pick it up. It's a short read, and it's incredibly clever). In the book, there's this part where Milo, the main character, meets the same man four times in a row--each time under a different title. He is "The Fat Man" to a skinny man, "The Skinny Man" to a fat man, "The Tall Man" to a short man, and "The Short Man" to a tall man. He's always the same person, though, which confuses Milo, until the man explains:

It's all about perspective.

Perspective can be shifted by upbringing, and it can also be shifted by a person's current frame of mind, but being able to flow freely through multiple perspectives is the key to being a more empathetic person, I've found. Trying to shift your own perspective when communicating with others will likely make communication easier on the whole, which will end up being better (and much less frustrating) for both parties. If you ever feel like you're attempting to talk to a wall, try it out--try to understand the perspective of the other person and maybe you'll learn something new. If it doesn't work, you might actually be talking to a wall. Probably the reason everyone's looking at you funny. Maybe you should just walk away like nothing happened. Yeah. No one saw that. You're good.

--J

Hashtag Threading The Needle

This post is probably going to be a shorter one--sorry 'bout it. I know I don't post often anymore, but I'm busier now than I was in the summer when I started this. Really, this post is almost an open letter to all of my friends and acquaintances. There's something I want to say to all of you that is hard to say to each individual in person. Don't worry, it's not a bad thing.

I like telling people how I feel about them. If you talk to me on a regular basis, I've probably told you how much I appreciate you for being in my life and being awesome for that specific reason I found you awesome that day. This is easy to do for me. I find it easy to tell someone that I appreciate them, and I still feel like I want to do it more often, but I don't want it to lose its meaning. It would be extremely ironic for the word "appreciate" to depreciate in meaning.

It's easy to tell someone that you like the relationship you have with them. It's easy to say that you like where you are and that, while you'd obviously always welcome positive change, you would be totally fine if things were like this with them forever. What's hard is telling someone that you don't like the relationship you have with them--telling them that you wish you could be more open with each other or that you talked more often--especially when circumstances don't really allow any sort of change in the direction you wish.

So here's me, saying to everyone that I have a few relationships in my life that I want to improve. Who doesn't, right? I would tell you outright if I could, and maybe I have but haven't expressed it completely. There are certainly those people I have no idea how to approach--no matter how much I want to. I'm sorry I've kept quiet to them--it's just sometimes hard for me to tell if they appreciate having me around as much as I appreciate having them in my life. I guess really what I'm asking here is for them to let me know.

I'm a social person. I enjoy making friends and learning about their lives and supporting them when and if they need it. People that I feel like I click with will always be a priority to me, so I just want you all to know that. Yes, I've got a lot on my plate. Yes, I appreciate having people to talk to regardless of this fact. Actually, I feel that I need breaks sometimes when no one is available to chat with, and that honestly sucks--especially when there are people available to talk to that I have literally no clue how to start a conversation with. So yeah. If you want me to be comfortable talking to you, show me that you're willing to help me achieve that level of comfort--otherwise I will continue to let things be left unsaid and leave you be. I'm assuming if you got this far that you actually care what I have to say, so know this: I'm willing to mend ties, but I need help threading the needle, you know? I think you get it. I'll be around if you ever want to talk.

--J

Hashtag Sensory Overload

I may be a programmer, but I still consider myself an artistic person. Everything I do, regardless of the inherent rigidity of the framework I'm confined to, I try to do as deliberately and artistically as possible. I make my code elegantly modular; I choose my words carefully and skillfully when writing; I focus on creating a multifaceted experience for my players when I'm wearing my designer's cap. It's all about deeper meaning--subtle complexities that may go unnoticed by many, but appreciated by the few who think similarly to the way I do. I appreciate the little things--every bit of polish that took just one extra moment to perfect, but yet makes all the difference.

I use this metric to separate the good games from the great games--FTL: Advanced Edition, for instance, had so many things that were done right. The developers added new systems and subsystems that further evolve gameplay, as well as made pre-existing gameplay elements even better. Allowing the player to save the crew's stations and send them back to those positions with the touch of a button was a glorious addition to the game, even though it was probably incredibly easy to implement. And making it so that players can easily tell what rooms they'll end up damaging with beam weapons by simply highlighting those rooms? Genius.

But you all already knew how much I appreciate elements of games that were well-executed--at least, I would hope that you do, seeing as that tendency is a crucial part of my game developer's lens. What I wanted to talk about aside from all of the usual "I really love [game] because [reason]" is the kind of art I appreciate--and I use the term "art" loosely here, because some of what I'm about to talk about isn't necessarily even art by the strictest definition, but I believe it can be appreciated as such.

First off, music. We all like music, though some of us have a wider variety of preferences than others. I've noticed lately that I really enjoy music that completely envelops me in sound. I like a loud bass, lots of background synth tracks that you might not even realize are there unless you're listening closely, and rich, full chords. Harmonic ostinatos are encouraged, of course, as they provide for very interesting pieces, but all that really matters to me is that there is always an instrument playing--with the exception of deliberate grand pauses right before the drop.

I've come to realize that this sensory overload would be an appreciated form of spectacle for a lot more than just music, but music is the most successful at pulling it off amongst the things I've experienced so far. The reason I like it so much is probably because it is inherently complex with the same, often-unnoticed subtleties that I appreciate in just about everything else. The result is a whole spectrum of simultaneous experience that leaves the mind reeling in wonderment and awe, seeking to branch out into all the directions that suddenly seem possible. Needless to say, this really gets my creative juices flowing.

To describe the way it feels in one word, I'd have to use the term "magical"--though it does seem a little bit cliché. But you really have to agree that music is essentially magic in how it has the ability to make us experience such a wide spectrum of emotion--even though it's essentially just well-organized noises and sounds.

But enough about music--I'd like to turn the attention of this post to the sky and the cosmos. The sheer power of the weather and the Earth itself is astounding to me, as well as the vastness of everything that lies beyond our small, blue planet. That feeling when there's thunder echoing off of the sky itself--again, being totally enveloped in sound--causes my mind to open up in a similar way to how I described earlier. I love to witness spectacles of nature, which is a trait I definitely got from my mother, who taught me to embrace every thunderstorm that passes through by watching and listening. More than anything, though, I would love to see the Aurora Borealis. I almost got the chance only days ago, but I was unable to see anything due to the geomagnetic activity level being too low for it to be entirely visible from where I am. The idea of seeing the entire sky dance with color and illuminate the landscape just seems like an utterly humbling experience, however, and I want to witness it at least once in my life. To be enveloped in sound is one thing, but for myself and everything around me to be completely enveloped in a rainbow of colors--now that is an experience that's sure to make my creative mind run wild.

Hashtag Tangential Learning

I've realized that I've been throwing around the phrase "tangential learning" a lot lately--usually when I'm talking about my campers. It really is what I strive for as a counselor--and as a game designer. If you don't know what it means, here's a little explanation (if you know what it means already, feel free to skip this next paragraph. I won't be offended. Well... I won't be too offended. I mean, I won't really know, I guess. Only you will. Only you will be able to feel guilty about skipping over a part of this thing I've taken my time to write for no one else's sake but your own. No judgement, though. Seriously):

"Tangential learning" is a phrase that refers to the knowledge you gain from something indirectly which you seek out on your own time. It could be sparked by a class, a book, a game--anything, really. Doesn't even necessarily have to be educational. In fact, sometimes it's even cooler when it's not. All "tangential learning" means is that you, as a person, have found something intriguing enough to seek out more details about it during your leisure time. If you feel this way about something, it's likely that the information learned in this manner will be more memorable, because you care more about it and are taking your own initiative. You weren't forced to memorize flash cards or do practice problems--you took the time to fulfill a curiosity. This, however, makes it relatively hard to instigate tangential learning, which kind of blows. Alright, the people who skipped this paragraph are coming back now. Thank you guys for reading--those other guys are total jerks. Don't tell them I said so, though.

Oh, hey! Did you know that people with guilty consciences are more startled by loud noises? Well, now that we've got everyone together again, let's continue. The easiest way I can think of to incite tangential learning is to offer a link to (or the name of) a resource where a viewer/reader/student can find more information about a certain topic should it be of interest to them. The only way they would feel inclined to use this extra resource, however, is if they view the topic at hand as interesting. Therefore, the best way to inspire this kind of learning is to show your audience something cool to start with, and tell them "But wait, there's more!" or "But we don't have enough time to cover all of [insert subject here]." If they enjoy the small amount of knowledge you've already given them, they'll be more likely to seek knowledge on their own--and, lucky for our generation, we have a convenient source of boundless information at our disposal.

Now that I'm back at RPI, I'm realizing that I like tangential learning so much because I'm so very susceptible to it. Last year, I would look up etymologies of words that I found interesting. This year, I find myself pulling up new tabs during Introduction to Game Design to research tangential topics that Dr. Marc brings up. I've also realized that the reason I love Dr. Marc's classes is because he does bounce all over the place--he brings up unrelated topics and ties them into what we're talking about. And... well, sometimes he doesn't tie it all together. But it's still entertaining, and still makes me want to learn more--which, to me, is what being a teacher is all about. It's not about teaching your students useless crap that they won't even remember after the test, it's about making them want to learn about even more than what you teach them. My favorite teachers in high school and college alike understood this, which, naturally, is why they're my favorite teachers. Good on you guys. Our school system needs more people like you.

Hashtag In Memoriam

Doesn't matter where I go on the internet tonight--everything is a reminder that we very recently lost one of my favorite actors of all time. It still hasn't really sunken in, to be honest. Chalk that up to denial being the first stage of grief. I just want to say a few words in his honor.

My first memory of Robin Williams is probably his role in the movie Flubber. I don't really remember the movie that well, just that it made me laugh like a lunatic back when I was only three years old. Granted, a lot of things make you laugh when you're that young, but maybe not quite so hard. I remember being obsessed with that movie for what seems like years looking back. Even got my mother to make "Flubber sherbert" on multiple occasions--her own recipe, I think.

Robin Williams has had so many roles since then that I've loved. So many times in those seventeen years that followed I laughed uncontrollably at something he said or did. I think we all feel a similar way. Laughter, to me, is very important, and Robin Williams was just one of those people who was outstanding at spreading it. And when I say "outstanding" I mean it. Not just good. Not just great. Outstanding. Sure, there were other comedians I'd seen or heard when I was younger, but his natural talent to produce comedy gold out of thin air was, in my mind, unparalleled.

"Comedy gold." I use the phrase because comedy, in my opinion, is a very valuable thing. I love to joke around, and I love to laugh. Without my sense of humor, I'd be an entirely different person--and a much more boring one, at that. It may be cliche, but it's true--I need comedy to live. I need it to de-stress. I need it to break the ice. I need it to handle awkward situations and sadness and frustration. If I couldn't let it all just slide off and make a joke about my situation, I honestly don't know what I would do.

This past year, I feel like I've lost a lot of the people in my life who helped to sculpt my sense of humor and attitude on life. Robin Williams is just the most recent comedian I've lost; before him, my grandfather and great uncle passed away, and I still miss them greatly. The two were brothers, and always made jokes. I admired my Great Uncle Theodore for his ability to crack jokes even when he himself was not happy, and I always wanted to be able to make an entire room roar with laughter the way my grandfather had. And while I may not have known Robin Williams personally, his demeanor affected me as well. I try to emulate his ability to be quick and witty--though I may not always succeed.

I'd like to thank all three of you for showing me that laughter is indeed the best medicine. I hope that wherever you are now, you're all still laughing and cracking jokes and just generally being wise guys. I promise you that I will continue to exercise my sense of humor every day, and use it to bring joy to myself and others, the same way you all did. I'll miss you.

--J

Hashtag This Is My Jam

I've been thinking a lot lately about what your taste in music says about you as a person. There must be some correlation between the two, even if it isn't concrete. Every song in your favorite playlist has a reason to be there, as well as a story about when you heard it for the first time. Perhaps an old friend introduced the band to you, or maybe you used to hear the song on the radio all the time during your commute. Whatever it is, every song you like has a backstory.

Now, when it comes to my taste in music, it's pretty hard to pin down, because I generally tend to like all sorts of stuff. I'd like to think this speaks to my attitude about life, as I consider myself a generally laid-back person without many preferences. I've collected a wide variety of songs in much the same manner that I've slowly garnered a wide variety of friends and acquaintances, as well as a stockpile of information and ideas.

A good amount of the music that I have on my computer is from games that I've played and enjoyed. Some of my songs are from artists like Sting or Seal or Dave Matthews--artists that my mother would listen to all the time when I was little, and I like Billy Joel and Elvis Costello because of my father. My taste for jazz is all thanks to my father, as well, and my uncle who would make him "Steve's Bright Jazz Jumble" CDs. All of my friends from college have introduced me to some musician or another, though my room mates have probably expanded my library the most. And, of course, if it weren't for a certain person, I wouldn't enjoy country or show tunes--and I wouldn't know about "She Thinks My Tractor's Sexy", which is quite possibly the best country song ever.

Lately I've been really into remixes and mash-ups, though I'm not sure how that trend started. I've recently discovered Pogo, an artist who samples from movies and makes remixes out of those samples. Majestic Casual is also on my radar now, thanks to one of my fellow camp counselors who told me about their YouTube channel. I'm still collecting songs, and probably will be for the rest of my life.

The coolest part about all of this, however, might be that now--at this very moment--someone is reading my words and adding music to their playlist because of me. Not all of you will, obviously. But now, hopefully, I can become a part of someone else's musical history in the same way that a lot of people in my life have become a part of mine. Spread the music, guys!

--J

Hashtag Why Not Change The World?

People often ask me what I go to school for, and when I tell them "game design" I get a lot of mixed reactions. Now, I get it. Video games rot kids' minds, and all that. I can vent about all the ways that I disagree with that opinion some other time. Right now, I just want to talk about why I do what I do.

It all seems pretty simple--games are fun. I've been playing games since my parents showed me the old Intellivision machine they had down in the basement. We played Frog Bog and Burger Time, and it was a lot of fun. Then they brought out the Sega Genesis, and I learned about Sonic the Hedgehog. I played the god-awful multiplayer mode of Sonic 2 with my dad. And then I got my first Nintendo console from my cousin Rick. The N64. A hand-me-down, yes, but a glorious machine all the same. I learned about Zelda and Mario, and I was hooked.

So, naturally, when my mom told me that they offered game design classes at Hofstra on Saturdays (I'd actually already been going there for cartooning classes), I jumped right on the opportunity. Me? Making games? Sounded like a life-changing experience, and a hell of a good time. I was a natural at it, blowing through the tutorial packets and adding my own mechanics to the games. I took game design at Hofstra for a few years, and I eventually got too advanced for even the most advanced class. The teacher offered for me to be his TA at one point, even though I was probably too young to actually get paid for it. And then, just like that, they stopped offering it.

Well, I was heartbroken, but I had to continue on at home. For most of middle school, my nights consisted of what I now consider to be some pretty basic programming. They say your first dozen games are terrible. Lucky for me, I got them out of the way back then. Now I can focus on the real stuff.

I wish that I had designed more games in high school, now that I look back on it. After middle school, my game design kind of petered out, and I thought I wanted to become an engineer. Then I realized that was dumb and that I should stick to my passions. I forcibly worked my way into the GSAS (Games, Simulation Arts and Sciences) major at RPI, and now I make and play games for class. What a life.

But that's just my backstory. Those are the facts of how I got to this point. When people ask me "Why did you choose game design?" though, I have more to say. Yes, I've been doing it for a while, and yes, I think I'm pretty good at it--I'd say I have to be if my portfolio was enough to get me into the major at a prestigious school like RPI. But what's the underlying reason? Why do I love to make games--sometimes even more than I like to play them? Why did I put so much effort into working my way into the GSAS major?

It's honestly a pretty simple answer: I just like to make people happy. Through all of middle school, even when my games were terrible, my friends still had fun playing them (and breaking them). Once I got to college, I was good enough to get a decent percentage of my floor playing my game all at once--everyone trying to beat each others' high scores. It was a lot of fun, and bringing that much joy and competitive spirit to my friends felt good. So why stop there? If I got into the major, and eventually the work force, I could create fun experiences for even more people.

That's what I thought for most of my college career so far, and it still applies today; however, there's even more to my ambitions nowadays. I started watching Extra Credits on YouTube last year--maybe you've heard of them, maybe you haven't. Basically, they talk about what games are, what they were, and what they could be--definitely an interesting show for someone like me. They got me thinking that I could do more than just letting people have fun with my games, and working as a camp counselor has made me realize it even further--games are capable of teaching skills that are applicable in the real world, if used correctly.

When I play Magic with my campers, I watch their skills grow. The decisions they make change the more they learn the game, and I find that to be an amazing phenomenon. I've resolved to try and help each one of my campers better themselves in some way, and gaming seems to be a good method to do so--they don't even realize they're learning because they're having fun, which makes it ideal for the ones who are harder to motivate. I've already seen improvements in regards to strategy and critical thinking with the campers I play with--and more of them get interested in the game every day.

Unfortunately, though, the camp has a policy about playing card games during the day--a policy I was aware of before; but I thought it would be okay to play on the playground, seeing as we had no other structured activities during that period. Turns out, it isn't. That won't stop me from teaching my campers, though. I've got so many other games in my arsenal--ones that don't require any peripheral equipment. I plan to teach my campers how to do freeze improv, as well as several word games that I play occasionally at school in the dining hall.

It would obviously be ideal to use Magic: the Gathering as a tool to teach my campers strategy, but I'm still deciding whether or not I want to fight that battle, seeing as we only have two weeks left, anyway. I might get a starter deck for one of my campers who's really into the game, but I'll likely have to ask permission from his mother first. If he has cards of his own, he'll find others who play, or introduce them to the game so he has people to play against and hone his skills. He says he's considering becoming a game designer as well. Who would I be if I didn't try to nurture that dream?