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by L.B. Jeffries

10 Aug 2010


One of the reasons that Johan Huzinga’s book Homo Ludens has such an important place in gaming culture is that it writes a blank check for game studies. If the play element can potentially be found in any part of culture, then any part of culture can be discussed from a gaming perspective. Mary Flanagan’s book Critical Play is an examination of that concept from the perspective of social activism. Often involving artists and poets, it outlines the play element of several cultural movements and how they used games to raise awareness and accelerate social change. Like many games today, a lot of the games that Flanagan discusses are difficult to understand unless you’re playing them. I picked out examples that I thought I could communicate effectively, but it is a massive topic that can’t be fully accommodated on a blog. So, bear with me here.

Flanagan proposes several overarching guidelines for critical play and how it works. She writes, “Critical play means to create or occupy play environments and activities that represent one or more questions about aspects of human life . . . . Criticality in play can be fostered in order to question an aspect of a game’s ‘content,’ or an aspect of a play scenario’s function that might otherwise be considered a given or necessary” (6). A basic example of this process occurring naturally is playing with dolls. Often used to enforce gender roles and stereotypes, many young girls today and in the early days of the doll industry would use dolls to subvert social roles. Violent fantasies, macabre funerals, and other forms of changing the way play worked with dolls provides a striking example of critical play in its natural form. Flanagan writes, “The enactment of critical play exhibits at least three kinds of action: unplaying, re-dressing or reskinning, and rewriting” (32). “Unplaying” is acting out forbidden scenes with the doll. “Re-dressing” is changing the doll’s appearance or items for darker play, like making funeral items and caskets. “Rewriting” is fan fiction and the proliferation of people writing stories about the doll funerals.

by G. Christopher Williams

9 Aug 2010


Well, if you have been following the Multimedia section of the site for the past few weeks (and if you haven’t there are links below), you know that quite a few of our regular contributors have had a lot to say about Playdead’s Limbo (and we aren’t alone on the Internet).  Having had our chance to have our say individually, the Moving Pixels podcast crew decided to hash out our thinking about the game collectively.

The resulting discussion considers the significance of the game from an artistic perspective, what we feel it gets right and gets wrong, and generally gets lost in the shadows and ambiguities of the game’s haunting, little world.

by Nick Dinicola

6 Aug 2010


I love horror games, but too many of them mistake cheap scares and gore for horror. True horror isn’t disgusting, it’s disturbing; it doesn’t make you jump, it makes you think. True horror is subtle, never showing all of its cards because the more that you don’t know, the more frightening it is. In this way, Limbo is the best horror game that I’ve played in a long time.

Limbo is a nightmare. Which is not to say that it’s hard, though some of the puzzles will strain your grey matter. You won’t jump out of your seat at regular intervals. Limbo is a nightmare because it’s disturbing in a way that’s difficult to understand. This is a dark, ethereal, and dangerous world, one filled with giant spiders, malicious older boys, and screaming machinery, and by the end, you’re no closer to understanding any of it than when you began. Limbo is filled with dream-like imagery that might be whimsical in any other context (rotating worlds, levers for rain), but here such images make Limbo feel like a waking nightmare.

by Rick Dakan

5 Aug 2010


Comedy is hard. It’s much easier to do solid drama and liven it up with a few moments of humor than it is to do something creative that’s meant to be funny top to bottom. No one expects every joke in a funny game or movie to land perfectly, but there is some golden ratio of funny to amusing to ignorable to unfunny that every good comedy nails and every bad one gets wrong. I think Deathspank gets the ratio wrong, and I think that the problem starts with the name.

First, let me say that Deathspank is a fine game, and I’ve enjoyed my time playing it. But mostly I enjoyed it in spite of the humor rather than because of it. There’s some laugh worthy material in there but not enough for me. Worse yet, the stuff that doesn’t work not only fails to make me chuckle, it actually weighs against the game in my estimation. I recently spent time vacationing at the home of some friends who have an Xbox that’s primarily for the use of their children, who are 4 and 9. My visit coincided with Deathspank‘s launch, and the game’s ever present advertisement on the first screen of Xbox Live every time one of the kids wanted to play Lego Indiana Jones or Monkey Island. “I cannot wait until the word Deathspank is no longer part of my daily life,” she said to me. This is someone who has a fine sense of humor and enjoys playing through a game like Monkey Island with her kids, and she did not find the title amusing.

by G. Christopher Williams

4 Aug 2010


I’ll be posting an episode of the Moving Pixels podcast next Monday, in which we discuss Playdead’s Limbo.  Having completed our recording it occurred to me that we had never discussed one element of the game: a little boy is dismembered in Limbo with an astonishing regularity.

Surprisingly (it would seem), this issue just never came up.  However, the weird thing is that, having played the game, this imagery not coming up does not entirely surprise me.  I frankly gave it little thought during my own playthrough.

//Mixed media
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Moving Pixels Podcast: Coming of Age When 'Life Is Strange'

// Moving Pixels

"Time travelling and selfies are the central conceits of Life Is Strange.

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