NETWORKS OF INTERACTION: WRITING COURSE DESIGN THROUGH FOURTH GENERATION ACTIVITY THEORY AND PRINCIPLES OF PLAY
Marshall James Saenz
A Dissertation
Submitted to the Graduate College of Bowling Green State University in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of
DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY
May 2019
Committee:
Lee Nickoson, Advisor
Tracy Huziak-Clark Graduate Faculty Representative
Daniel Vincent Bommarito
Ethan Jordan © 2019
Marshall Saenz
All Rights Reserved iii ABSTRACT
Lee Nickoson, Advisor
Honnicutt’s (1990) “Leisure and play in Plato, teaching and philosophy of learning” and
D’Angour’s (2013) “Plato and play: Taking education seriously in Ancient Greece” reveal games, play, and learning have a long pedagogical history in the classroom. With the mainstream emergence video games in the 1970’s, it wasn’t long before academics such as
Malone (1980) began to explore how these games may assist formal education; however, some
39 years later video games often found tenuous if not contentious ground in academia. Even so, scholars such as Gee, Selfe, and Alexander took an optimistic view of games, professing their value not only for learning in general, but for writing. These scholars’ work laid a foundation for why games deserved consideration, but the question of how to utilize games and play in writing instruction remain an open conversation. This study works at providing some answers to this complex question insofar as First-Year Writing is concerned, through a site-specific study aimed at the creation of a development kit for creating games and play at Bowling Green State
University.
Using activity theory, ethnography, and survey, this study articulates and apparatus for exploring way to develop games and play through several prototypes. The study asks the following research questions: How can game-based learning (GBL) be better understood, implemented, and measured in first-year writing courses? What are some specific tools and designs that first-year writing teachers can use and augment for game-based learning? How can instructors use specific game-based strategies and tools to identify with their students, their curriculum, and themselves? iv My findings are understood and processed through intersections of activity theory, teacher research, and Dynamic Criteria Mapping philosophies that examine actions, artifacts, and feedback through discussion boards and feedback of the participants in this study. The study invites the researcher and participant to serve as co-producers, engaging in forms of academic that encourage cyclic and praxis-oriented development. The results indicate a promising foundation for a development kit that may help praxis-minded teachers in creating activities, modules, and text that network interactive classroom experiences. v ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This project has been a wonderful journey of discovery made possible by the support of so many brilliant and supportive people who helped guide my path along the way. I would like to first thank my chair, Dr. Lee Nickoson for her wisdom, patience, and genuine interest in helping this project grow from scribbles in a notebook to a completed project. What you taught me about thoughtfulness and compassion as a teacher and mentor will forever shape my practices.
I would also like to thank the rest of my committee: Dr. Daniel Bommarito for the many conversations that led to productive breakthroughs. Your willingness to roll up the sleeves, to seek the “rough ground,” and to find that necessary friction has made all the difference in inspiring me to seek those hard to find answers, Dr. Ethan Jordan for his generosity and expertise in all things gaming. Our work together over the past few years has helped me learn so much about what it means to be a teacher/developer; and Dr. Tracy Huziak-Clark for her thoughtful insights and for encouraging me to look more into myself for this project.
Additionally, I would like to thank my wonderful cohort. It’s hard to fail when surrounded by so many talented and encouraging colleagues. Each of you have helped me find myself, and I continue to grow and learn from each of you. A special thanks to Lauren Garskie for the many pep talks and pink cupcakes. Also, thanks to Bryan Nakawaki for his quick tips and for turning cardboard sideways during our many meetings. My most heartfelt thanks go to my amazing partner, Linda Peralez. Her unwavering love, support, and care throughout this project made every step of this journey worthwhile.
Last but certainly not least, I give thanks to my parents, siblings, and friends who stood behind me since this project’s inception. Your contributions to my development and this project go beyond measure. I am so filled with gratitude for each and every one of you. vi
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Page
CHAPTER 1: MINDSETS FOR ENGAGING AND DESIGNING PRODUCTIVE PLAY IN
FIRST YEAR COMPOSITION ...... 1
Framing Terminology ...... 8
Play ...... 10
Identity Terms ...... 13
Gamer ...... 13
Agents ...... 16
Avatara ...... 16
Gamification and Game-Based Learning ...... 18
Gamification...... 18
Game-based learning ...... 20
Literature Review...... 22
History of Play and Games as Literacy ...... 22
Games and Culture ...... 27
Play and Games as Activity...... 30
Game-Based Learning in First-Year Composition ...... 32
Chapter Abstracts ...... 37
Conclusion ...... 39 vii
CHAPTER 2: FINDING OUR HESTU IN THE WORLD OF COURSE DESIGN ...... 42
Framing Analytical Methods with Games and Play ...... 42
Differentiated Immersion ...... 43
Embedded and Embodied ...... 44
Collaborative and Co-Designed ...... 45
On-the-Scene ...... 45
Participants ...... 46
Participation Factors ...... 47
Activity Theory as a Testing and Patching Tool ...... 48
Teacher Research Artifacts...... 53
Classroom DCM Maps ...... 54
Surveys ...... 56
Ethnography ...... 58
Conclusion of Methods ...... 59
CHAPTER 3: MANEUVERING THROUGH OUR METHODOLOCIAL MADNESS .... 60
Framing Methodologies that Inspire Collaboration and Relayability
Over Replicability ...... 61
Thinking About Games Alongside and Inside of Methods ...... 67
First Year Writing as a Site of Inquiry ...... 71
Research Question 1: How Can Game-Based Learning (GBL) be Better
Understood, Implemented, and Measured in First-Year Writing Courses? ...... 71 viii
Research Question 2: What are Some Specific Tools and Designs that First-Year Writing
Teachers Can Use and Augment for Game-Based Learning? ...... 75
Research Question 3: How Can Instructors Use Specific Game-Based Strategies and
Tools to Identify with Their Students, Their Curriculum, and Themselves? ...... 79
Methodological Theories ...... 81
Activity Theory ...... 82
Moving towards a fourth generation ...... 84
Teacher Research ...... 99
Dynamic Criteria Mapping and Coding ...... 103
Immersive designs by site and procedure ...... 104
Developers and collaborative designs...... 107
Understandings and expectations ...... 107
Limitations ...... 109
Conclusion ...... 111
CHAPTER 4: BETA TESTING IN A CO-PRODUCTIVE STUDIO: FIGHTING
TOOTH AND TAIL TOWARDS PRODUCTIVE PLAY ...... 114
Research Question 1: How Can Game-Based Learning be Better Understood,
Implemented, and Measured in First-Year Writing Courses? ...... 115
Assembling the Engine ...... 115
Launching Prototypes ...... 116
Data Processing: Compiling, Coding, and the Bug Hunt ...... 117
Instruction Set ...... 117
ECOC 1. Formulate ...... 119 ix
GBL Translation ...... 119
ECOC 2. Construct ...... 119
GBL Translation ...... 119
ECOC 3. Analyze ...... 120
GBL Translation ...... 120
ECOC 5. Utilize ...... 120
GBL Translation ...... 120
ECOC 6. Demonstrate ...... 121
GBL Translation ...... 121
Wrapper ...... 122
Principles of Play (PoP) ...... 123
Fourth Generation Activity ...... 124
Pause ...... 125
Patch ...... 126
Analysis and Data of OTS Prototypes ...... 126
Research Question 2: What are Some Specific Tools and Designs that First-Year Writing
Teachers Can Use and Augment for Game-Based Learning? ...... 127
Instruction Set ...... 128
In the Field ...... 128
ECOC 1 (Developer) ...... 128
ECOC 1 (Finding) ...... 129
ECOC 2 (Developer) ...... 129
ECOC 2 (Finding) ...... 130 x
ECOC 3 (Developer) ...... 130
ECOC 3 (Finding) ...... 131
ECOC 5 (Developer) ...... 131
ECOC 5 (Finding) ...... 132
ECOC 6 (Developer) ...... 133
ECOC 6 (Finding) ...... 133
Activity Theory: In the Field ...... 134
Wrapper ...... 134
Principles of Play...... 135
Game-based writing identity...... 135
Ludus ...... 136
Paidia ...... 136
Metacognition ...... 137
Gumshoes ...... 137
Instruction Set ...... 138
ECOC 1 (Developer) ...... 138
ECOC 1 (Finding) ...... 138
ECOC 2 (Developer) ...... 139
ECOC 2 (Finding) ...... 139
ECOC 3 (Developer) ...... 140
ECOC 3 (Finding) ...... 140
ECOC 5 (Developer) ...... 141
ECOC 5 (Finding) ...... 141 xi
ECOC 6 (Developer) ...... 141
ECOC 6 (Finding) ...... 142
Activity Theory: Gumshoes ...... 142
Wrapper ...... 143
Principles of Play...... 144
Game-based writing identity...... 144
Ludus ...... 144
Paidia ...... 145
Metacognition ...... 146
Helping Vinny ...... 147
Instruction Set ...... 147
ECOC 1 (Developer) ...... 147
ECOC 1 (Finding) ...... 148
ECOC 2 (Developer) ...... 148
ECOC 2 (Finding) ...... 148
ECOC 3 (Developer) ...... 148
ECOC 3 (Finding) ...... 149
ECOC 5 (Developer) ...... 149
ECOC 5 (Finding) ...... 149
ECOC 6 (Developer) ...... 150
ECOC 6 (Finding) ...... 150
Activity Theory: Helping Our Cousin Vinny ...... 150
Wrapper ...... 151 xii
Principles of Play ...... 151
Game-based writing identity ...... 151
Ludus ...... 151
Paidia ...... 152
Metacognition ...... 152
The Parking Game ...... 152
Instruction Set ...... 153
ECOC 1 (Developer) ...... 153
ECOC 1 (Finding) ...... 153
ECOC 2 (Developer) ...... 154
ECOC 2 (Finding) ...... 154
ECOC 3 (Developer) ...... 154
ECOC 3 (Finding) ...... 155
ECOC 5 (Developer) ...... 155
ECOC 5 (Finding) ...... 156
ECOC 6 (Developer) ...... 156
ECOC 6 (Finding) ...... 156
Activity Theory: The Parking Game ...... 157
Wrapper ...... 157
Principles of Play...... 158
Game-based writing identity...... 158
Ludus ...... 158
Paidia ...... 159 xiii
Metacognition ...... 160
Surveyed Analysis ...... 160
GSW 1110-2025 ...... 160
Participants ...... 160
GSW 1110-2031 ...... 161
Participants ...... 161
Mapping Values ...... 166
Limitations ...... 166
Critical Assessment and Conclusion ...... 167
CHAPTER 5: GOING SILVER: LAUNCHING A NETWORK OF INTERACTION ...... 169
Beta Updated: A Summary of Findings ...... 169
Feasibility of Development ...... 170
Prototypes and Designs...... 170
Interface and Usability ...... 172
Feedback Mechanisms and Co-Production ...... 175
Limitations and Staving Off Blue Screens and Red Rings ...... 177
Scope of the Study ...... 177
Population ...... 177
Player Desire/Expectation ...... 178
Time and Technology ...... 181
Prototype Enhancements ...... 182
Narrative/Introduction ...... 182
Multimodal Interfacing Tools ...... 186 xiv
Literature ...... 186
Aural/Visual ...... 187
Gestural ...... 187
Mediating Spaces ...... 189
A Quick Note on Enhancements ...... 191
Future Implications and Developments in the Field ...... 192
Modules ...... 193
Co-Curricular and Cross-Curricular Development ...... 194
Text/Textbooks ...... 195
Conclusion ...... 196
REFERENCES ...... 198
APPENDIX A: STUDENT SURVEYS ...... 209
APPENDIX B: SURVEY INFORMED CONSENT ...... 233
APPENDIX C: RECRUITMENT FORM ...... 235
APPENDIX D: IRB APPROBAL LETTER ...... 236 xv
LIST OF FIGURES
Figure Page
1 College Park Office Building, room 120 ...... 47
2 Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild (2017) ...... 50
3 Activity Theory System Components from Spinuzzi's (2013) Topsight ...... 52
4 Immersive Play ...... 61
5 Xcom 2 Movement ...... 62
6 Wish You Were Here ...... 65
7 The Select Difficulty screen from XCom2’s main menu ...... 69
8 James Gee discussing games and assessment in “James on Games: A Conversation with
James Paul Gee" ...... 74
9 First Generation Activity Theory ...... 85
10 Screen Shot of Second Generation Activity Theory ...... 87
11 Screen Shot of Third Generation Activity Theory ...... 89
12 An activity network from Spinuzzi’s “Losing by Expanding" ...... 94
13 XCom2’s Bar/Memorial ...... 113
14 RGP Maker MV Code Screen ...... 121
15 RPG Maker MV ...... 123
16 Call of Duty: Infinite Warfare ...... 130
17 In the Field activity development sheet using Spinuzzi’s activity system ...... 134
18 Gumshoes activity development using Spinuzzi’s activity system ...... 142
19 Helping Vinny activity sheet using Spinuzzi’s activity system ...... 150 xvi
20 The Parking Game activity sheet Spinuzzi’s activity system ...... 157
21 Data sets of three periodic surveys from GSW 1110-2025 measuring student
responses to OTS at roughly the beginning, mid-term, and end of semester ...... 162
22 Data sets of three periodic surveys from GSW 1110-2025 measuring student
responses to OTS at roughly the beginning, mid-term, and end of semester ...... 162
23 RPG Maker Wrapper ...... 194 xvii
LIST OF TABLES
Table Page
1 Survey questions regarding classroom environment in GSW 1110-2025 ...... 164
2 Survey questions regarding classroom environment in GSW 1110-2031 ...... 164
3 Surveyed responses to students’ preferred learning style in GSW 1110-2025 ...... 165
4 Surveyed responses to students’ preferred learning style in GSW 1110-2031 ...... 165 1
CHAPTER 1: MINDSETS FOR ENGAGING AND DESIGNING PRODUCTIVE PLAY IN
FIRST YEAR COMPOSITION
The connection between games, learning, and writing remains a curious point of inquiry for many scholars in the field of rhetoric and writing. As theory, pedagogy, and technology continues to emerge, evolve, and coalesce their way into more and more classrooms, it only seems inevitable that games, particularly video games, have become a greater part of the discussion. Thomas Malone’s (1980) “What Makes Things Fun to Learn: A Study of
Intrinsically Motivating Computer Games” made one of the earliest attempts to understand what makes video games interesting and how they might work as learning tools in education. Games and gaming theory continued to evolve, and some twenty-four years later, James Paul Gee’s
(2004) What Video Games Have to Teach Us about Learning and Literacy serves as one of the most referenced texts for bringing such conversations of gaming theory to formal education.
Even so, the value for games as rhetorically useful writing tools and texts remained largely left out of the conversation until scholars such as Cynthia Selfe, Gail Hawisher, Jonathan Alexander, and Jacqueline Rhodes advocated for specifically exploring their use in writing instruction. In my mind, these advocates developed a promising lineage of scholarship that answers the why question, but it is the how where pedagogical gaps seem to widen and where the crux of my inquiry begins. This dissertation serves as a call to the how questions by examining ways to approach game development as curriculum-aligned, problem-based play for First-Year
Composition (FYC) courses.
This project considers the concepts laid out by the New London Group’s (NLG) assessment that a pedagogical shift towards multiliteracies better prepares students for the multimodal world and introduces a consortium or writing scholars who specifically frame games 2 as productive multiliteracies for teaching writing. The NLG’s ten eminent members comprised of
Courtney Cadzen, Bill Cope, Norman Fairclough, James Paul Gee, Mary Kalantzis, Gunther
Kress, Allan Luke, Carmen Luke, Sara Michaels, and Martin Nakata determined:
The use of multiliteracies approaches to pedagogy will enable students to achieve the
authors’ [NLG] main twin goals for literacy learning: creating access to the evolving
language of work, power, and community, and fostering critical engagement necessary
for them to design their social futures and achieve success through fulfilling employment.
(Cazden, Courtney; Cope, Bill; Fairclough, Norman; Gee, Jim; et al, 1996, p. 1)
The NLG promoted pedagogies that include a variety of technologies, cultures, communications, and linguistics as alternative modes to traditional practices that, although well intending, privilege only one mode and largely ignore human and technological diversity. Of the NLG,
James Gee has prolifically advanced video games as one such powerful multiliteracy, even towards an anchor point for rhetoric and writing.
In order to cement a foundation for the work this dissertation proposes, it becomes important to acknowledge Cynthia Selfe and Alexander and Rhodes’ moves to position games as literate practices for writing. Cynthia Selfe and Gail Hawisher’s (2007) Gaming Lives in the
Twenty-First Century, “explores the complexly rendered relationship between computer gaming environments and literate activity…” (p.1), a seeming nod to using games as spaces for learning.
Alexander and Rhodes picked up on such cues, citing this text in On Modality: New Media in
Composition Studies and calling forth an exigency to better understand the direct connections between games and writing. Alexander (2009) speculates that gamers not only play together, but they are engaged in rhetorical practices at work, collaborating, communicating, and even writing together through multiple modalities. 3
My research revolves around not only understanding such environments as a writing teacher, but also in co-designing them. To elaborate, my work involves creating games and play in writing course design, but as a student-centered approach. Such a philosophy attempts to heed
Alexander and Rhodes’ comment, “what is often missing in Gee’s (2003) discussion is a ‘paying attention’ to what students themselves perceive as significant learning and literacy experiences and developments as they game.” (p.40). Using FYC as a focus grounds the work in the literate practices of this specific writing community and intends to better ‘pay attention’ to the experiences and developments we encounter together as FYC instructors and students for the purpose of co-designed philosophies that may lead to more productive and informed play. More specifically, this dissertation focuses on Bowling Green State University’s first-year writing program as a site of inquiry to ground its observations.
Certainly, moving from theory to the praxis points of game design that speaks to rhetoric, writing, and FYC in particular requires frontloading key mindsets, definitions, and frameworks.
Although my work centers on games and play as curricular design, gaming theory is young and sometimes misunderstood, if not controversial at times. As such, it has become commonplace for gaming scholars to discuss the confusions, curiosities, and prejudices often associated with games up front in order to get at the true substance of their work. Just as Gee, Selfe, Bogost, and other scholars have understood the need to address adverse mindsets on gaming, doing so here may present an opportunity to acknowledge both instructors and students’ tensions with games in academia, and then move forward to re-focus on the type of games this work envisions with a fresh perspective. 4
Despite the prevalence of games and gaming scholarship, gaming theory in formal education tends to draw a fair share of curiosity or skepticism. Some instructors and students make hard divisions between the “serious” work of education and the “leisure” activity of play.
Culturally, games have often been used by parents and teachers as a reward for hard work or as a pastime to take the mind away from more serious activities. Alternatively, games have notoriously become the go to target for forms of punishment because they tend to be closely categorized with toys. In some cases, playing games is viewed as a childish activity removed from the adult work of higher education, inducing a sort of guilt harkening back to 1 Corinthians
13:11 that tell us to put childish things away when we are no longer a child. Even when play or games are scholastically accepted, they tend to be used as highly “supplementary” or
“extracurricular” tools, placing their importance as secondary to, or outside, the “normal” curriculum. For instance, I can recall my grade school teacher allowing me to play Carmen
Sandiego after completing my work because it was approved as supporting education, but there were never any formal lesson plans centered around learning geography or use of logical deduction while playing the game. In fact, the teacher knew relatively little about the game, the characters, or even how to play.
To be fair, I have encountered games in college Math and English courses; however, the goal of these games often seemed quite linear in that most students understood the whole purpose was simply to force feed information retention. Two such examples include a Jeopardy style game and a sentence development game I encountered during my undergraduate years.
Although the purpose and goals of these games were well defined, play was mostly about awarding points for replicating products in the form of precise, or narrow, answers. In Jeopardy,
I did not particularly know how to use something like a thesis or a logos argument. I just needed 5 to remember the definition in order to score points. In the sentence game, our group was given grammar directions as we worked together to put together the best sentence that might win the round. Interestingly, most of us either could not come to a consensus about the best sentence, or we relied on someone who won a previous round as the local “expert.” This game seems open ended, but it in fact created a linear situation where there was one “best” way to articulate a sentence, and individual understanding of writing was set aside in order to win. Problematically, both cases shifted play to a purely competitive plane where winning often became the primary goal. In the implementation of such games, little pondering may have occurred about the student’s personal connection to writing process, or more troubling, what did the “losers” of such games come away feeling about their writing? This is not to say using games in this way is necessarily bad or wholly unproductive, but it only scratches the surface of what game-based learning can do.
Additionally, some skeptics will view games as distracting at best or morally destructive at worst. Politicians and media outlets have a long history of placing blame on video games when searching for answers to sedentary or miscreant behavior. After all, games make for a convenient bogeyman to hate, especially to those who are not familiar with them or understand them well. In many cases, divisive rhetoric has also been used to accuse games as the antithesis of education.
Even with such claims, a number of prominent academics have come forward to refute these charges. Selfe, Mareck, and Gardiner (2007) argue, “But computer gaming and violent socialization are not inextricably linked: they are discrete components of a complex culture undergoing rapid technological and social change during an era of unprecedented global transformation” (p. 21). Seemingly, this type of fear or skepticism associated with games comes 6 from a singular, perhaps narrow, contextualization of an otherwise contextually complex subject.
After all, games, like books, come in many genres and with varying perspectives, narratives, and takeaways. Even if some do not work well for the classroom, classifying or casting out whole genres based on a few titles is far from prudent. As demonstrated in the following video, much of
McGonigal’s work as an academic, gaming scholar, and researcher is aimed at dispelling long held fears about gaming while explaining some of deeper, more positive aspects we may draw upon in our work.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZJ7uaDlYVmo
Another valid, but generally misconstrued viewpoint is that video games in education comes as a fad of sorts, perhaps the gimmicky concoctions of the coming of age Nintendo generation trying to find a place for gaming subculture in professional teaching. But do games, especially video games, represent a passing moment? Video games may be viewed as a niche industry of sorts on the outskirts of society-- a discreet subculture, prompting instructors to question if their students could at all relate to games as part of curriculum. According the
Entertainment Software Association (ESA) (2018), video games “generated more than $30.4 billion in revenue” in 2016 (para. 3). Contributing to these figures, ESA reports 65 percent of
American households contain at least one person who identifies as a video game player, 72 percent of “gamers” are 18 or older, and 71 percent of parents polled state that video games have a positive role in their child’s life (2018). With such numbers and the continued interest in games and education dating at least back to Malone some 39 years ago, it seems unlikely that gaming arrives as a millennial whim or soon to pass trend. And although it should be noted that many of our students may not identify as gamers, it doesn’t necessarily mean games and play are beyond their interest or ability, or that they have no relation to some previous experience with play. 7
In some cases, the fear of disassociation with play may be just as readily available in an identity disassociation with writing, at least in the beginning of the semester. To demonstrate, I often get very few raised hands, and sometimes none, when I ask my First Year Composition
(FYC) students who among them are writers-even though many of these students come from a
K-12 background where they likely wrote frequently for assignments, social media spaces, personal communications, or through a number of multiliteracies in or out of class. Similarly, the play I explore may occur or have a place in the memory of students more frequently and in more ways than they at first anticipate. The work I propose doesn’t ask students or instructors to identify as gamers, but to experience and explore play as they are also asked to experience and explore writing.
Finally, there are those scholars who remain objective and curious about both the possibilities and limitations that games and play present. Somewhere between the if and the how to use play and games as curricular design, a number of pertinent questions arise with regards to the FYC design I intend to lay out. Is there an exigency for gaming theory in writing instruction for FYC? How do we as scholars and teachers of FYC position play and games as productive activity in the serious work of our courses? How can gaming theory move from concept to praxis in FYC? How do we create or augment writing course design out of abstract notions of play in
FYC? How do, or will, students and the instructor become active participants, players, and co- designers in games that get at productive play for an FYC writing course? Most of all, can digital and non-digital games actually impact real world learning? Each of these questions presents worthwhile inquiry, not only because they echo questions about games in larger educational facets, but also because they present opportunities to explore FYC courses as possibility spaces. 8
Framing Terminology
Because gaming theory has been thought about in many ways, building a working lexicon of key terms, this dissertation relies upon may offer clarifications that better frame the conversation. Additionally, some seemingly common terms such as game, play, player identity/projective identity, gamification, and game-based learning often associated with gaming theory may become overgeneralized or may even have different meanings depending on philosophies or contexts. The following definitions provide contextual analysis of how this dissertation understands each term with the acknowledgment that alternative or differing definitions may exist for others.
The term game may seem obvious at first due to traditional understands of them as recreational activities or simple sports, but the definition may be more complicated when explored. Problematically, games are generally assumed to be a purely leisure activity with the goal, aside from winning, as having fun or passing time. This is considered true of many types of games, and especially video games. With regards to video games, Ian Bogost’s (2015) How to
Talk about Video Games notes, “We think they are appliances, mere tools that exist to entertain or distract. We think that their ability to satisfy our need for leisure is their only function” (p. ix).
The mindsets Bogost discusses are at work when games simply become used as a reward for completing a more “serious” task, when they are taken away as punishment, or when they are regarded as merely an extracurricular activity. Such mindsets generally consider games at the most superficial level as having only one purpose, somehow set aside from the multifaceted nature of other media. To elaborate, books, plays, and films are forms of media that may be consumed for pure leisure by some and used for academic purposes by others. For example,
Melville’s Moby Dick and Frank Darabont’s Shawshank Redemption, based on Rita Hayworth 9 and the Shawshank Redemption by Stephen King, were not specifically made for curricular purposes, yet even a cursory search of these two titles reveal both have been used frequently in the modern classroom. This nature of such refashioning is also true of games. The definition of a game must then extend beyond a singular application revolving entirely around leisure. In fact, games operate as a sort of embodied, experiential text.
In getting closer to the way this work defines a game as a text, two key understandings must prevail. First, the term “text” itself requires us as scholars to challenge the privileging of alphabetic text as the only way a “text” can exist. Selfe’s (2007) Multimodal Composition:
Resources for Teachers wastes no time in specifically describing “new multimodal texts (texts that exceed the alphabetic and may include still and moving images, colors, animations, color, words, music, and sound)…” (p.1), a description that wholly describes most video games as such a text. Second, observing a video game as a digital ecology is both appropriate and useful. To explain in detail, DeVoss, Eidman-Aadahl, and Hicks (2010) frame out digital ecologies by drawing upon Bonnie Nardi and Vicky O’Day’s description of them as spaces including human and non-human actors, software, hardware, tools, networks, and layouts, both physical and digital, that visibly shape the work conducted in the space (p. 64). Certainly, video games can check each of Nardi and O’Day’s boxes as constituting a digital ecology. DeVoss, Eidman-
Aadahl, and Hicks propose less visible elements comprising ethical, legal, and participation policies add to the infrastructure of digital ecologies in an academic setting, encouraging that
“Understanding, improving, and shaping a healthy digital ecology is part of teaching digital writing.” (p.64). So, is a game a text or an ecology?
A game, and certainly a video game, is an interactive text comprised of an ecology--in short, it is both. Some confusion may arise, as those familiar with standard alphabetic texts have 10 only experienced the practice of reading what someone has left on a page. Such texts will never change or give any consideration for what the reader thinks or does. The reader’s only chore is generally to get from one cover to the other and perhaps extract static portions such as questions or excepts for later use. It works on the presumption that the reader will, by method, turn from one page to the next and silently glean information from the writer’s careful arrangement of words. A video game is also a text, but unlike static alphabetic texts, the mechanism presumes that the reader will actively engage with the text in lieu of turning pages. The arrangement, syntax, sections, questions, and other elements that one might think of in a traditional text are presented as the ecology-but it is “read” by action, and unlike traditional texts, it invites the reader to also write in the space by some means. Albeit a false realm of sorts, the writers in such ecologies are very real and they breathe life into the ecology. From these understandings and for the purpose of this dissertation, the best way then to define a game is to understand them as problem-based, multimodal texts in a specific digital or non-digital text (medium) that invite
“reading” and “writing” through experience, performance, and reflection.
Play
The term “play” has a myriad of working definitions and often holds the precarious connotation of a purely leisure, set aside and apart from the traditional work-related environments of the classroom. Such notions of play may have derived from encultured activities experienced as a child, hegemonic constructs of authority figures such as parents, teachers, or employers, and even as forms of escapism from a person’s operative definition of “work.” These are all valid understandings, but it must also be known that “play” also has other, long-standing pedagogical implications dating back to at least ancient Greece. This dissertation acknowledges these pedagogical interpretations of “play” from two key foundational standpoints. First, play is
11 a process-based endeavor whereby action via performance builds literacies, often collaboratively, toward understanding and creating connections between textual and non-textual information.
John Alberti’s The Game of Reading and Writing: How Video Games Reframe Our
Understanding of Literacy (2008) adds, “the inherent instability of the cultural status of video games reveals itself nowhere more clearly than in the verb associated with gaming. We read books, watch movies, and listen to music, but we play games (p. 260). Alberti seems to assert the verb form of play often incorrectly triggers a cultural association of endeavors which lack seriousness. To disrupt this notion and reframe play, or gaming, in writing studies, Alberti draws on Baxter: “As Baxter unintentionally revealed, video gaming (and the verbal form of
‘gaming’emphasizes the dynamic process of the discursive transactions involved) challenges our institutionalized understanding of the writing process not just by championing creativity but more so by undermining the neat division between ‘writing’ and ‘reading’” (Alberti, 2008, p.
261). Alberti’s takeaway is that understanding play in video games parallels play in writing courses as a dialogic practice challenging conventional assertions of who authors and authorizes meaning making, play as witnessed through video games returns to a visual understanding of reading and writing, and that play as a pedagogical approach can be meaningful if we can challenge our own assumptions of cultural divisions between work and play.
Second, play is an experiential endeavor that may help transcend the buffer space between the writer and context by placing the identity of the writer in ludic situations where their experience, critical observations, and embodied actions may lead to invention, tacit learning, and transfer. For such forward thinking, we must actually look into the distant past where Plato used play as an educational tool. Honeycutt draws upon the ethos of Plato in explaining;
12
Using modern concordances, one may locate each time Plato used “play” and “leisure”
and come to some conclusion about how he used the words and what significance they
had in his overall philosophy. Such an intensive investigation may reveal how leisure and
play developed in his writings to become central to his ideas about education, the
Socratic method, liberal arts, the practice of virtue, the discovery of new truth, and the
correct way to practice philosophy. (Hunnicutt, 1990, p. 212)
Hunnicutt reveals the meaning behind play has not only been associated with long standing educational traditions, but that they are in fact melded together by centuries’ old tradition. To define play or good learning, at least as Plato might, is to use complimentary terms. D’ Angour
(2012) puts this notion in clear perspective in his contextualization of play:
Thus, the classical period (fifth and fourth centuries BCE), the referents of "play"
embrace ubiquitous expressions of music and dance, competitions both sporting or
artistic, and the lively pursuit of abstruse forms of knowledge associated with the
Sophists (professional teachers). We should not, therefore, be misled by etymology into
thinking that ancient Greeks constructed all play as merely child's play. (p. 295)
The key arguments Hunnicutt and D’ Angour offer propel this dissertation by squarely framing play as educationally situated by history and by processes that predate many modern assumptions of play as imprudent distraction; further, their notions champion a definition that has lived in curricular design before Schole.
This dissertation wishes to embrace many of those ancient understandings of good play but contextualizes them for modern course design. I see modern classroom activities as teachable moments in play, expandable from the single activity to the design of the course as a whole.
13
Finally, just as some of the first ideas of good play include a mix of agency and utilitarian guidance to foster better learners and citizens, I see identity centered play as co-designed learning. In sum, the “play” I espouse is about how writers engage writing processes within rhetorical situations. Drawing upon our definition of a game as a digital ecology, to play is the process of interacting within the space in order to learn, experiment, share, and solve the ecological problems of the game. This sort of play may come inherently to some people, but the game often cues the contextual elements that lead to social understanding about how to play and succeed. For example, a player entering a multiplayer game for the first time might experiment with much or little success, and then watch or interact what other real or non-real actors to better understand how they participate. Similarly, new students may try to figure out the world of the new programs and courses they enter. They will likely transfer in some inherent understandings but will also rely on social and contextual cues from other students, instructors, or mentors to become better “players” at school. With this in mind, we can think of play as transferable to the professional and civic world our students will encounter upon graduation, and such play may, as it did in ancient times, provide some critical thinking and tacit skills for their future.
Identity Terms
Gamer. A gamer is often a self-identified term for someone who plays games; however, there have been cultural assumptions about what validates someone as a gamer. Such assumptions might include someone who excels, frequently plays, and/or has an encyclopedic knowledge of games. Still, there are people who play casually or relatively infrequently and may only know one or two games, but still refer to themselves gamers. Others may feel some disassociation, by perceived skill or social status, with games even if they play them regularly and not refer to themselves as gamers. As such, few dare to put a strict definition to the term
14 even though it is frequently used. A similar association may be demonstrated in an endeavor such as writing. For instance, even though most students in a writing class have likely been engaging in writing for a number of years, only a few of them will likely self-identify as writers.
Others might say they are not writers, and a number of them may sub-categorize themselves as casual, creative, or academic writers. The same is true in games where players self identify as casual, hardcore, and genre specific gamers--classifications that are themselves often deliberated over time and time again. In this way, it may be best to refer to a gamer as someone who self- identifies as being associated the practice of gaming.
The term player is often used interchangeably with gamer, but it seems to more concisely indicate a personal relationship between the person playing the game and the game itself. At first glance, this definition simply seems to identify an actor engaging in play, but Gee (2003) articulates the human, “nonvirtual identity” as a conduit of sorts that grafts experiences, perceptions, values, and other cognitive devices towards the choices made in a game. For example, two Playing Characters (PCs) in the same game for the first time may approach the same problem in very different ways due to their experience, knowledge, and points of view in other games or in the material world. Academically, observing the player through this definition becomes important because it allows for a clear opportunity to explore “transfer” --a concept that flourishes in games and will serve as a modeling concept in this dissertation.
Interestingly, gaming scholars such as McGonical warn that the term player has also been associated with frivolity and can even elicit thoughts of manipulation or distrust. McGonical
(2011) discusses how society often culturally associates players in a negative way. To call someone a “player” may assume that person has manipulative or other ill intentions--that they are playing some kind of game. McGonigal adds, “When you start to pay attention, you realize
15 how collectively suspicious we are of games. Just by looking at the language we use, we’re wary of how games encourage us to act and who we are liable to become if we play them.” (p. 20).
Indeed, becoming a player means to engage as an active participant in a game space and make choices within a certain set of rules and contexts provided by the game. For example, World of
Warcraft requires players to create a character and learn to use the controls allotted to them that allow for play in the world of the game. In another example using Red Dead Redemption II, to be a player means to acknowledge participation in the game space and engage as a character in a spaghetti Western while working towards completing a specific set of missions. In either case, the person playing the character may adhere any social, spiritual, or intellectual ideas and have a number of mindsets. The same could be true of anyone so broadly identified as a basketball player, tennis player, chess player, and so on.
As McGonigal points out, language is important because a player alludes to the acceptance to participate in a game and not necessarily traits linked to personal identity. In some ways this statement seems to counter Gee’s argument about personal transcendence into a game space, but in fact these two understandings may better form the definition of a player. A player participates using transferable experiences, knowledge, emotions, and thought processes, but generally has the freedom to take risks, challenge their normal perceptions, and engage in activities that may not be indicative of their material world traits. However, this is not to say that what is learned from a productive game cannot transfer to solve real world problems as Gee points out in the following video:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4aQAgAjTozk&t=192s
16
Agents. Playing games often requires taking charge of a character during play, and the agent serves as the most discreet form of these characters. An agent is a character controlled by the player that has an already fixed identity, physical body, and skill composition. For example,
Nathan Drake from the popular Uncharted series has a set backstory, way of thinking, clothing style, and facial features. No matter how much or how little the player knows about the tools and qualities of this daring adventurer, they can only encounter the world according to Drake’s abilities. The same is true for many characters including, but not limited to Super Mario from
Super Mario Bros., Lara Croft from Tomb Raider, or Link from The Legend of Zelda. Though it may be true the agent can unlock special abilities or come to new in-game understandings by completing objectives, such achievements are reactionary bi-products of following game protocol rather than explicit human ingenuity on the player’s part.
Avatara. Whether it be social media, blockbuster movies, or video games, the term
Avatar has become relatively commonplace in society. But for a term we throw around with such great frequency, few can pinpoint how the term came about or why it is so important to the value of games. Zach Waggoner’s My Avatar, My Self (2008) explains that the term derived from
Avatara, which in Hinduism “refers to an incarnation, a bodily manifestation, of an immortal being. Hindu Gods and Goddesses use avatars as necessary when they want to access the physical, mortal world of humanity” (p. 8). Similar to the way this Sanskrit gave understanding to man of how the Gods and Goddesses were able to embody vessels to walk the earth, the term unveils players as a sort bodily manifestation projected into game-based vessels. For example, both Oblivion and Final Fantasy XIV allow the player to decide their vessel’s appearance, gender, and traits. The vessel thinks, believes, and values what the player does. Additionally, the player has access to their own mental, emotional, and experiential faculties at all times but may 17 discover newfound agency through choosing characteristics, roles, and abilities of the vessel they embody. In a sense, the player epitomizes avatara as an advanced being capable of creation and destruction in a world they could not ordinarily access.
The coalescence of the player and avatar often makes meaning in the material and the game-space world both rich and complicated. A common pitfall in logic comes with making seemingly obvious assertions between the “real” world and the game-space world due in large part to the avatar. Blair, Almjed, and Murphy (2014) argue gaming worlds are real worlds, expressing the unique blending of humans connecting with each other in non-organic spaces and how those spaces also connect, nodding perhaps to the idea of an ecology. Though such a statement may seem counter-intuitive, they reveal that game-spaces contain real communities, personal relationships, acts of kindness and cruelty, politics, social norms, and intellectual and emotional transactions--all co-experienced by the player and avatar. In some cases, an avatar’s actions in game can affect the material world. An avatar may collect materials or in-game property that can be sold for actual money, and a number of lawsuits have been launched against
Second Life regarding avatars’ legal rights in real courts. Additionally, players have felt sadness and loss when their avatar “dies” or is deleted. Others have found joy in avatars facilitating long lasting real-life relationships and great relief from avatars used to treat mental health issues such as Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). Observing the many embodied ways players invest in their avatars, it seems almost fitting to return to Waggoner’s definition of avatara, but it is the player who projects into bits and bytes or paper an incarnation, a bodily manifestation, of an immortal being with very human connections.
18
Gamification and Game-Based Learning
Gamification. Problematically, gamification has become the popular term to identify applying game mechanics or ideology to non-game activities. Gamification has long and complicated roots, but Nelson’s (2012) Soviet and American Precursors to the Gamification of
Work locates the early use of gamification two areas: 1) in mid-20th century Soviet Union as a way to increase production from workers by using game mechanics instead of capitalist incentives, and 2) Chuck Coonradt’s (1984) The Game of Work is heralded as one of the first texts to describe gamification as a late 20th century method for management to increase productivity from employees. In many cases, gamification uses the most superficial elements of games such as applying a game skin to make a non-game endeavor appear or work like a game, or using extrinsic motivations such as badges, leaderboards, trophies, capital, and other rewards to motivate players. This process might be as light as giving badges and trophies to students who achieve and “A” grade or have perfect attendance. It may also become as involved as something like Classcraft that turns a whole course into a fantasy game where students assume characters, engage in quests, gain or lose points based on performance, and are awarded treasure for behavior.
Examples of such gamification include Kulpa’s (2017) Applied Gamification: Reframing
Evaluation in Post-Secondary Classrooms. Kulpa’s study examines both the successes and strategies of gamification as engagement and innovative course delivery. Gamification through scholars such as Kulpa creates some unique perspectives and opportunities for learning in new contexts, but I also believe specific elements of this methodology do not aid the kind of writing design this particular dissertation seeks. First, full and immersive gamification, especially as extravagant and fantastical as Classcraft, assumes students will naturally adhere to an academic
19 course posing as a game simply because 21st century students are supposedly predisposed to games (Classcraft). Some students may not identify as gamers and reject assuming fantasy identities, potentially obscuring stats, quests, dungeons, and grades linked with elements such as experience points and levels for the whole of the course. This can create a polarizing experience throughout the class for students who do not buy in to the experience and for instructors who expect them to do so. Secondly, gamification supports failure as learning opportunities and engaging challenging work, but it can also create a linear ludic experience that often only awards very specific kinds of success. Because gamification is many times tied to extrinsic motivation and developing behaviors, doing well means students must use their limited agency to achieve hegemonic goals. Doing something the “right” way awards a trophy and doing something the
“wrong” way may result in no reward or even being stripped of abilities or rewards like experience points, titles, or trophies. Finally, the hallmark and championing factor of most gamification revolves around badges and other accolades that generally equate to a grade. Kulpa
(2017) explains the benefit of gamified classrooms is that students ask about strategies to get an
“A” rather than simply asking what they need to do to get a specific grade. The difference between the two student questions in Kulpa’s explanation become arguably semantic as the student in each case is ultimately focused on the “A” grade. And while Kulpa’s statement about students’ willingness to attempt activities until they get a desired grade are meant to be encouraging, I see this as a more product-centered course design in nature, especially in such cases where badges and accolades may emphasize competition.
Such assessments are not a fault of gamification, but rather indicators of Nelson’s acknowledgement that this process’ original intended purpose is to work as a tool which encourages behavior and motivation effective in increasing the output of products. As a final
20 note, not all gamification practices are necessarily bad or removed from good learning. In fact, gamification can work towards the process of learning if it is aimed at intrinsic goals rather than squarely focused on the acquisition rewards for performing specific behaviors. In such cases, the gamified activity allows students to frequently distance themselves from the game and reflect on what the activity is trying to teach them about some other endeavor. Doing so often places hybridizes gamification with Game-Based Learning (GBL).
Game-based learning. Game-based learning involves using games, and more importantly, principles found within games that are effective for learning. Certainly, games have been used in the past to supplement learning, but James Paul Gee is often honored as the modern forefather of GBL since his Good Video Games and Good Learning (2005) laid out 16 principles for how video games aid productive learning. These principles include: 1). Identity, 2).
Interaction, 3). Production, 4). Risk Taking, 5). Customization, 6). Agency, 7). Well-Ordered
Problems, 8). Challenge and Consolidation, 9) “Just in Time” and “On Demand Information,”
10). Situated Meaning, 11). Pleasantly Frustrating, 12). Systems Thinking, 13). Explore, Lateral
Thinking, Rethinking Goals, 14) Smart Tools and Distributed Knowledge, 15). Cross-Functional
Teams, and 16). Performance before Competence. In the piece, Gee provides a detailed definition for each of these principles should an elongated understanding of GBL’s overall definition become paramount; however, the key understanding for the work laid out here is that the GBL community tends to use games and/or curriculum with each game-based principle focused on student-centered processes as good learning.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4aQAgAjTozk&t=192s
21
In understanding GBL’s definition, it is also important to consider some of the affordances and constraints that come with using video games. Video games are often used in
GBL as a teaching tool with directed curricular goals that allow for GBL principles to permeate out of the game and into the class space--a direct difference from many gamification practices that assume the class must always look and operate like a commercial video game. The GBL instructor may certainly build a lesson around commercial video games or instructor-related games; however, the student does not have to be especially skilled at video games to understand the curricular goals. Indeed, using games in this way can create perceived binds in terms of gaming “technocracy,” or the need to be exceptionally skilled at technology or games. Some instructors or students may not have the technical understanding to address software and hardware needs. Others may feel some economic burden in acquiring the tools for such game- based learning; however, it is important to clarify that in some cases, the instructor may simply use video clips from games or contextual analysis of a game to trigger GBL principles. There is also little to say that an instructor couldn’t use GBL principles with no game at all should the inclination exist.
This dissertation squarely argues for a position aligned with the GBL community, but also narrowly offers such fealty to GBL in the way it specifically serves writing. Acknowledging the merits of GBL principles, other discipline specific principles that will be called Principles of
Play may be helpful in terms of engaging writing. These Principles of Play include game-based writing identity, ludus, paidia, and metacognition--terms which in games may take on significant contextual meaning. Identity through play has already been touched upon in defining play and avatars, but to re-assert, writers may explore identity in various modes and situations, not so much in their assuming a character as in the way play can call into question rhetorical practices 22 and the negotiation between what writers think and write. Ludus as a Principle of Play exemplifies play with specific rules and objectives, a point of connective tissue between the freedom of play and the curricular demands of the institution. Paidia serves as the process in play where kairotic moments create the potential for learning by opportunity, productive hacking, or re-shaping approaches to solve problems. Good ludus and paidia share a symbiotic relationship whereby paidia in ludus situations can create a more evolved ludus and vice versa. For instance, students may be placed in groups where they are each given different clues to solve a very difficult problem, but they may not use the internet to seek answers. Somewhere in the middle of the whispering and quiet chaos, a perplexed student wonders what information another group has and asks if the other groups can be queried. Another student offers a fair trading of information if approved by the instructor so that other stumped groups may get close to the answer. Neither is cheating, as these propositions are not against the original rules. Paidia has occurred and, whether the instructor agrees to the terms or not, the rules of the game must be addressed and evolved to create a new ludus--certainly, with the opportunity for more paidia. Games are exalted masters at metacognition, always placing players in the position to productively reflect on their own thought process and practices either by success or productive failure. Principles of Play utilizes such metacognition but draws upon writing as a powerful conduit for reflection.
Literature Review
History of Play and Games as a Literacy
With the first commercial video game, Pong, in 1973, Malone’s What Makes Things Fun to Learn?: A Study of Intrinsically Motivating Computer Games indicates scholarly investments into video games have existed for nearly as long as their commercial availability. More importantly, Malone (1980) notes, “The new technology of computers--with its uniquely rich 23 possibilities for responsive fantasy, captivating sensory effects, and individual adaptability--has an unprecedented potential for creating fascinating educational environments.” (p. 82). Clearly, scholars have looked to video games as a viable possibility for learning in academic settings; however, it should also be noted that play and games as a literacy has a much longer history checkered with as much suspicion and persecution as opportunity and agency.
Nobody can say for sure when the first moment of play existed or when it prompted the first learning experience, but ancient Greece serves as good reference point to begin a documented history of play and education. Interestingly, many educators and students raise an eyebrow at the idea that play, and games can be used in serious learning beyond elementary or middle school. For some, the marriage of play, games, and learning in formal higher education is categorized as a new-age philosophy or fad brought on by gaming culture. Most are surprised to learn that such concepts date back hundreds of years and were central to Greek education.
Specifically, Plato’s use of play in the Socratic method was vastly important. Although this teacher and his methods have earned venerated status in many modern classrooms, the play component seems largely ignored in the way Plato envisioned its use. In fact, Hunnicutt (1990) reveals many of the terms and concepts Plato used to discuss education have been radically skewed over time and his advocation for play has seemed to slip to the wayside in order to get on with the important work of learning. Even though the term School is understood as a serious place of learning, it’s derivation from Schole meant something a different to Plato. Some scholars such as Hunnicutt believed Plato meant for his teachings and pedagogy to seek freedom through a form of leisure--freedom he positioned as the ability to seek truth, virtuous activity, and the pursuit of aerte (pp. 214-216). The question then becomes how play may have become so divided from our understanding of education as a society.
24
One of the reasons play and games have been largely relegated to the realm of early education may come from long divided beliefs about work, leisure, and play. Although Plato and many of the sophists frequently used play in their lessons, it may have been Aristotle’s influence on education that started the first frayed edges in the tapestry of games and learning for modern audiences. Aristotle’s Politics Book VII makes clear in a number of ways that leisure is the primary purpose in education, a call to the Greek belief of seeking the “good life” by intrinsic learning; however, Aristotle has been arguably misinterpreted in two ways that could have created rifts. First, some may assume Aristotle’s main point in education was to promote learning practical skills above all else and that leisure was casually applied to non-practical skills such as music or athletics.
Secondly, some may assume Aristotle’s notion of freedom only applied to physical or social freedom and that leisure meant amusement and relaxation. The resultant thought then would be that school largely favors practical skill, and leisure is purely extracurricular--an observation we may see in practice at many schools today. Even with the creation of innovative labs and spaces featuring a great array of tools and resources to “play” with, few writing instructors may develop curriculum that requires the use of such spaces, and many writing students may not be inclined to visit them on their own. In my estimation, the success or floundering of such spaces speaks to a tension about a reliance on practical skill expectations and spaces that might encourage play but not actively develop a bounded space of play insofar as writing is concerned. Such an observation returns us squarely to the if and how question regarding the use of games and design. A writing instructor may be open to the possibility of such spaces but may ask how it will address the practical need of explicitly teaching something
25 like a thesis, formatting, or improve writing skill. Similarly, the writing student will want to know exactly how such a space will help them become more skilled writers.
However advanced, such spaces are usually shells or vessels without the proper problems, rules, and context--essentially, there is no “game” to sustain good “play.” In such cases, the instructor and student may follow the assumption that the space is largely extracurricular, however promising in theory, to practical skill acquisition in the classroom. The gap in transactional sense--making between space and user then may create the kind of misinterpretation seen with Aristotle’s Politics.
As demonstrated, some interpretations of Politics may be in need of re-evaluation.
Aristotle valued leisure and freedom in the same way Plato and his contemporaries viewed schole. He cemented above all, “to occupy leisure nobly; for--to speak about it yet again-this is the first principle of all things” (Rackham, 8.1337b). In this excerpt, Aristotle also provides wisdom on what he means by freedom with the “to speak about it yet again,” referencing book seven’s teachings of leisure as freedoms that slaves do not have, perhaps a reference to physical slaves but more so attached to a proverb speaking about those who are slaves to the Greek notion of work and unable to explore and obtain betterment for the self instead of others. To help clear up the second notion of leisure as relegated to extra or non-curricular purpose, Aristotle does make a distinction between leisure and what he calls amusement. Unlike leisure that worked toward bettering the self, He believed amusement and relaxation were for a particular end and not as valuable as active leisure. Aristotle’s contributions to education are prolific, and those who either confused leisure as equivalent to amusement, or who did not contextualize play as the
Greeks did, may have been moved to distance themselves from considering gaming practices.
Ultimately these skeptics, if claiming to be virtuous and openminded in seeking practices, may
26 be swayed to reconsider previously embedded mindsets by the ethos of Aristotle himself who so valued leisure in education--an active pursuit of improving knowledge and the self, perhaps through the academic play and games that many scholars envision today.
Although far from complete, laying out this brief history serves to position both the tradition and difficulty in pursuing the work this dissertation intends to explore and perform. If play and gaming is to be considered a literacy, it should be known that this notion is not a new thought, but rather one that has been ever-present and somewhat buried in history. My work may touch on new media and build on relatively recent work in the field of rhetoric and writing, but at the same time it is responsive to ancient teachings that informed the whole of modern education.
History bears witness that play was an incremental part of these teaching methods, one which was the norm rather than the exception--a stark contrast to the raised eyebrow reaction play and games often receives today. Despite a certain irony in the “newness” of games and play as a
“gaming theory” which has existed for centuries, the curiosity and skepticism evidenced today may exist as ramifications of the college system in the grasp of current traditional rhetoric which has for years suppressed the creativity, exploration, and processes that play espoused. Neither
Plato nor Aristotle could have envisioned how other cultures would utilize their work in the present or how technology would add to their teachings. In my estimation, these considerations require the pedagogically minded gaming scholar to rescue and preserve our ancient memory before it is lost to history; further, this work is not new and it is not a fad, but the evolution of technology and media creates an exigency to build on tradition. This dissertation would be incomplete without honoring such histories and identities because they inform the roots from which the work herein springs, and the complexities involved in making plausible practices for the modern FYC course.
27
Games and Culture
Games, and especially video games, exist as a cultural phenomenon for their role as interactive media across multiple contexts. Just as with film, music, and books, video games fill nearly every genre and target a wide range of audiences for a number of purposes. As a result, it can be challenging if not impossible to distinctly classify any particular game; For instance, Gee spends a great deal of time using Metal Gear Solid to explain discourse analysis in an academic way, but the game’s developer, Konami, likely did not intend the game for educational purposes.
Other games, sometimes called “serious games” are designed precisely for learning. Some games are light and promote comical themes, others are dark and contain graphic violence. Whether the myriad complexities that could boil down to “good” or “bad” features is largely subjective, video games have ignited a cultural powder keg of assumptions, accusations, and quandaries about if video games should be used, and if so, which ones serve society or more pointedly, aid academic learning.
A key element in utilizing gaming theory in a practical manner for coursework is to properly understand that games offer situated contexts. For some years, it seems the mention of games in the classroom among a broad audience inevitably brings about a question or two regarding how an extremely violent, immoral game such as Grand Theft Auto could be educational or productive to something like writing. On the one hand, these sorts of questions unfairly slight gaming theory by positioning one gratuitous example as the representative for the whole of gaming. Indeed, no discipline is without their “bad apple,” and they too could be unfairly targeted by summoning a particular author or piece of writing that serves as a poor ambassador for the entire collection of work done in the field. On the other hand, these sorts of questions unveil other questions of cultural situatedness and tensions that can be productive. How did a game such as
28
Grand Theft Auto V sell more than 90 million copies? Why did people spend 14.6 billion dollars in video games software, equipment, and accessories in 2017 (NDP Group)? With such a large market, could there possibly be potential to mine for academic purposes? Such questions demonstrate how games are reflections of ourselves as a culture and exemplify the sorts of critical
Socratic questions that begin fruitful conversations.
As far as the academic realm is concerned, a number of scholars in the field including Gee,
Selfe, and Hawisher have extensively dispelled the notion that video games generate violence, but the way to coordinate social and academic gaming culture remains something of a mystery.
Certainly, Grand Theft Auto V’s 90 million copies sold didn’t lead to an epic crime wave of murder and car theft. And despite a number of non-gamer politicians who enjoy video games as a scapegoat, an overwhelming mass of gamers who contribute to this multi-billion-dollar industry are sane, moral human beings that by action defy such Post Hoc and Ergo Propter Hoc claims.
Putting such perceived transgressions to rest, a number of educators may still wonder how to deliver gaming theory in a practical manner or how their students might encounter such a cultural shift from “traditional” forms of school.
The question of whether games have a cultural space in education does not appear to be as binary as it sometimes seems. Sheridan and Roswell’s Design Literacies: Learning and Innovation in the Digital Age (2010) note that some “ 97% of U.S teens have played video games,” and that the discussion about gaming and digital media in general is perhaps better served by shifting the focus away from if such literacies are acceptable to the “goal of making sense of, and possibly shaping, the role of digitally mediated communication in people’s lives” (p. 7). Although I don’t believe this and future generations to come are any more gaming natives as they are digital natives,
29
I think it may prove worthwhile to accept and explore games as a literacy and tool to make sense of rhetorical concepts, situations, and communication.
A possible affordance of game-based learning is that it is not an all or none enterprise catering only to the video gaming gurus, but rather is more principle-based and has multiple points of technological access. As a result, my understanding of gaming culture is more diverse than narrow; however, the cultural belief that video games is more of a physical, button-pressing endeavor than an intellectual journey may continue to present obstacles for instructors and students. In this way, Sheridan and Roswell (2010) strike a loud chord in reference to video games as a digital design literacy. Gaming practices must be made sense of, trained and learned, and remediated like every other pedagogy. Some instructors, even those curious about gaming theory, may dismiss the opportunity to learn more because they do not classify themselves as gamers or even passive observers of games. Alexander and Rhodes (2012) speak directly to these instructors by stating, “In many ways these are the ideal instructors for such a course--because they can learn with their students. More powerfully, many of the students might actually teach the instructor about gaming, allowing the students some opportunity to think authoritatively” (p. 168). Though many might point to this sort of enthusiastic advice as easier said than done, it starts a conversation about collaboratively engaging in games and play. Only through such undertakings and open- mindedness will the raised-eyebrow heckling of games give way to the more fruitful conversation about their literate opportunities.
The explorations into games and play I undertake necessarily understand gaming culture and traditional academic culture may both share intersections and clear distinctions. For some instructors and students, the possibility of entwining gaming philosophy into a course offers an additional way to frame learning and practice. For others, it may seem unusual, unclear, or even
30 forced no matter the amount of encouragement or evidence. Game-Based Learning, like every other approach, will have some advocates, some opponents, and some dissenters. My work doesn’t attempt to draw any lines in the sand or convert the masses to accept gaming philosophies as some holy grail of learning. Rather, the scholarship tied to observing games and their transcendent place across many cultural boundaries raises questions about how we can learn about ourselves and our writing through games. It also works to consider how Game-Based Learning might be framed for those who may not ordinarily associate with games and play. These are the difficult and complex questions for even the most expert of scholars, and perhaps the answer comes not from a single voice but a network of them with various experience in such ideologies. If the work here speaks to any instructor and brings them some value or revelation towards a better end in connecting gaming theory and academic culture, then progress towards a wholly sufficient answer is advanced.
Play and Games as Activity
Few observers would deny that games have a tendency towards the visual and toward experiential environments. After all, games are about action of some kind, and playing a game enacts mobility aimed at some goal in a measurable way. For a video game like New Super
Mario Bros. U, a timer begins counting down right after Bowser crashes Mario’s dinner party. In the Call of Duty series, a mission briefing ends by thrusting the player into a carefully guided path that encourages progress towards a waypoint. Even the Massive Multiplayer Online sandbox world of Final Fantasy XIV succeeds in eliciting interaction from the game’s onset.
Such environments are observable, and the actions involved are equitable to a clear goal.
However, gaming theory and play in the academic world is not always as boldly expressed or visible. Gaming theory for all its merits must do more than paint a promising picture, it must do
31 something. And this means considering ludic practice that also counters perceived ableism. We must cast aside a singular notion of gaming and play as always requiring furious button mashing or physical exertion. It is important for even the staunchest of critics to remember the importance of embodiment and practice as a valid process of learning. Because embodiment comes in many different forms during intellectual play, participation often comes in many forms.
Gee’s What Video Games Have to Teach Us About Learning and Literacy gained a great deal of attention as one of the boldest texts to call for game-based learning in mainstream education, but it raised as many questions as it did hopes. Most texts that mention gaming theory cite this text as a catalyst for exploring games as a possible literate practice. In rhetoric and writing, Selfe and Hawisher’s (2007) Gaming Lives in the 21st Century, Alexander and Rhodes’
(2012) On Modality: New Media in Composition Studies, and Blair, Almjeld, and Murphy’s
(2014) Cross Currents: Cultures, Communities, and Technologies all reference Gee in prompting educators to think about ways games can impact writing. Even with such momentum, a criticism of Gee and gaming theory in general is that for all the reasons why gaming philosophies should be used, these ambitious calls often do little to explicitly detail exactly how to enact these practices. Praxis oriented questions can become conflated in gaming theory because the field contains a number of differing theoretical viewpoints and because it is still finding footing in the modern academy. One way that I perceive transferring game-based learning theory to practice is through the framework of activity theory as a tangible heuristic. A configuration of this nature includes situating activities and projects as problem-based objectives, then identifying rules, tools, communities, labors as bounded and re-bounded structures that allow identity, ludus, paidia, and metacognition found in good play to work through binds and promote expansive learning.
32
Activity theory has been used as both a method and heuristic to examine how actors negotiate environments, rules, artifacts, labor, community, history and culture motivations, complexity, and tensions towards achieving an objective. Although I intend to lay out activity in great detail as a methodology in its appropriate place, its use in this particular observation is to acknowledge that the components central to activity systems intellectually and physically occur in both games and writing classes. In other words, an argument can be made that both games and writing courses fit the definition of an activity system. Such an understanding already, in my mind, begins to create a testable hypothesis for building a bridge across the chasm of theory and implementation; moreover, activity is situated, mediated, and measurable as a heuristic approach.
As with the New Super Mario Bros. U example, games tend to extend agency to participants and give quick feedback based on actions undertaken. If this sort of play can be transfixed as activity in course design, then game-based learning through the lens of activity may work as a compass of sorts, presenting bearings between course goals and actual happenings in the classroom. In this way, the work and ideations presented hope to alleviate some fogginess that may exist in trying to understand game theory applications, as I view them, by offering activity as a concise instrument to gauge and build upon the machinations offered herein.
Game-Based Learning in First-Year Composition
Using game-based learning for course development in FYC courses may illicit the need for specialization beyond the general writing course. Students who fill these courses are often inexperienced with college writing and/or have been trained to write in a certain way that meets test requirements. Additionally, they may not know how to encounter game-based learning, or they may even resist such philosophies. Additionally, FYC instructors may find they have to align their practices to meet general education mandates put forth by the university or use
33 specific materials as directed by the department. In some cases, the writing program will require the course to focus on specific concepts such as technical writing, research, or other criteria that meet the department’s vision. Even with these curiosities and potential binds, gaming theory has found some cohesion with first-year writing.
Rebekah Shultz Colby and Richard Colby’s (2008) A Pedagogy of Play: Integrating
Computer Games in the Writing Classroom draw upon the “Magic Circle” concept to begin explaining how games approach writing course work. Their study examines an FYC class that took place in the game space of World of Warcraft (WoW). Although the particular game they used is not entirely important, the findings are telling in how a game space links to a writing space. Colby and Colby (2008) explain, “However, like a game space, a classroom is a magic circle, a space bounded by terms and class periods and defined by its own set of rules and learning outcomes (p. 303).
Some key observations arise from this concept. First, it can be argued that our writing classrooms are “real,” but the design, practices, and work done in such spaces are also simulative, or game-like, in that the stakes and the ability to experiment and productively fail are adjusted for learning purposes. For example, a great miscalculation in “real life” could lead to high stakes repercussions such as loss of an account, a firing, lawsuits, or even loss of life in some circumstances; however, a student might make several errors on an assignment and have to revise, or perhaps receive what they may consider a less than desirable grade. Either way, there will be other opportunities to raise the grade or receive mentorship with the understanding that the student is a learner. Second, the type of verbiage that Colby and Colby use in explaining their course as a localized system with rules, community, objectives, and tools highly resembles the components and processes described in activity theory. If the magic circle discussed acts as the
34 anchor between the classroom and game spaces as the authors suggest, then there can be some positive affirmation that activity theory may be an exceptional tool to build, deconstruct, and augment the course designs found in my work.
A word or two needs to be put forth about how the FYC student may encounter game- based learning in terms of student buy-in, or lack thereof. Many students may initially be confused or resist game-based learning, but this may also be the case with any new or different way of approaching writing. Particularly for traditional first-year students writing in high schools is often tightly structured and regulated to help the student gain skills to perform well on standardized tests. In a way, these tests become the game for high school writers as they work on strategies and skills that will allot them the most success on these exams. Games might be used to reinforce strategies, but ultimately many students are trained to think and act in a way conducive to such writing. Even without game-based learning, incoming freshmen may have a difficult time understanding the projects, formats, or types of writing pedagogies college professors utilize. Colby and Colby do offer some traction points with regards to engaging students through immersive and emergent learning.
First-year writing students may benefit from the types of immersive learning game theory offers in terms of critical thinking, invention, and process-based practices that foster good writing practices. Putting aside the graphics, fantastical locations, or plots found in many games, they generally draw players in by presenting problems or puzzles with an exigency to find a solution while under some constraint. In a writing course, this might mean foregoing tedious lectures telling students what they should be doing to instead of presenting problems or puzzles and giving them just enough information and tools to learn through experience. This might involve an activity giving students the agency to take on a real-world problem through writing
35 such as role-playing college officials trying to solve a parking problem, or it might involve a game helping a fictional student learn about different communities as they prepare to write about their own for a project. Although some students will by nature resist any form of participation, these game-related designs seek immersion by asking students to solve problems, help others, and when needed, take on roles that allow for reflection on both success and productive failure.
The instructor may also become immersed in a role such as project manager, client, or some other actor that moves the perception of the teacher as some omnipotent force to a participant who poses Socratic questions and seeks assistance from the students in order to arrive at some
“newfound” knowledge. For example, an instructor at BGSU may assume the role of project manager in a game-based activity centered around positive study habits on campus; however, the
“manager” poses questions that call up possible exigencies, causations, alternative viewpoints, supported argumentation, mode of invention, and medium of rhetorical delivery. Explicit directives, in this case, are primarily used to bound the rules of the game with the students’ practical and researched knowledge culminating in a result that convinces the “manager” or client that the approach is rhetorically sound. Certainly, more about these activities and how such processes lead to assignments will be examined in the second on course development, but this brief top view offers an example of Socratic play merging game-based activity designs.
Emergent learning in game related FYC courses may prove fruitful for scaffolding writing skills in a student-centered manner. Emergent learning allows students to explore new challenges that arise as they progress towards achieving a project. Games are particularly good at presenting emergent opportunities because they allow players to encounter and experience exigencies as they arise, evolve, and change (Colby and Colby, 2008, p. 305). Emergent learning isn’t restricted to games and has indeed existed in educational settings for some time, but Colby
36 and Colby’s (2008) analysis of it in game-focused FYC courses reveals students may have increased ability to test hypotheses, experience their writing through play, and reflect about their immersion (p. 309).
The given discussion on game theory and FYC presents a great deal of questions and opportunities for the work I set forth. The scholarship asks us as scholars to consider how games resemble our courses as a space somewhere between the “real” and the simulation in a sort of magic circle. As such, the designs I envision may find some connective tissue to existing best practices. In other words, as Colby and Colby (2008) assert, the process of learning through the game supported by rhetorically meaningful writing tasks will engage students in complex ways as they consider both academic and professional options for writing” (p. 310). Above all, the takeaway from Colby and Colby is that we shift our thoughts from the form of the game itself to the processes games present as an opportunity for FYC. For Colby and Colby, the how was to have students create researched proposals about what they wanted to study via World of Warcraft and then enter to game as a laboratory. Assessment came in the form of students writing a reflection on how their research projects met course objectives.
These understandings inform and move my work forward in optimistic ways, but I am still left with a number of questions. Although some game-based philosophies were enacted,
Colby and Colby utilized more of a hybridized gamification approach where the class itself became fused with World of Warcraft. In remaining mindful of a criticism Gee faces for advocacy without including the student’s perspective of gaming practices, no first-hand information is given by students to express how they encountered the course. Such voices, I believe, are important to understand where both high participation and marginalization may have occurred, as well as how students felt the practices might be improved. Although I suspect good
37 learning can occur in World of Warcraft, it is not necessarily a safe space. The premise of World of Warcraft is based on competition between two warring factions, stat advancement, and adversarial combat. Although players have choice, World of Warcraft is a public space notorious for “griefing,” the act of intentionally making a player’s experience miserable through taunting, preventing access to locations or other characters, and by outright killing a player’s avatar. Even modest encounters of the sort can begin to derail the goals of the class. This possibility underscores the fact that many instructors using commercial games are always vulnerable to the whims of the developers and give up sometimes large amounts of control in order to obtain benefits. Finally, it is encouraging and grants my work some welcomed ethos to see an assessment plan that has been used for using games in the FYC class, but this demonstrates how it worked under special circumstances for one game at one university and under the premise of research. However daunting in appearance, these observations should be considered optimistic gains for my work because they better contextualize gaming and FYC, establish some data driven history by other FYC teachers, and direct my ideas and prototypes towards more informed
FYC oriented tools and designs.
Chapter Abstracts
Chapter Two of my dissertation poses specific goals as research questions and outlines the reasoning as well as application of the methods used. Research Question 1: How can game- based learning be better understood, implemented, and measured in first-year writing courses?
Research Question 2: What are some specific tools and designs that first-year writing teachers can use and augment for game-based learning? Research Question 3: How can instructors use specific game-based strategies and tools to identify with their students, their curriculum, and themselves? Three methodologies in the form of Activity Theory (AT), Teacher Research, and
38
Dynamic Criteria Mapping will work in tandem with one another to inform the study. Together, these compliment overarching observations, embedded teacher analysis of class artifacts and practices, and teacher-student feedback to understand how or if the tools and designs are valued, and in what ways. Data collection tools will include analyzing course tools and artifacts, coding surveys distributed to GSW 1110 students, and coding feedback from a student focus group discussion after the surveyed course has concluded. Additionally, this chapter will discuss affordances and limitations of each method and data collection tool along with how Principles of
Play will be explored.
Chapter Three examines methodologies and focuses on disseminating how the data can be used toward answering the project’s research goals as well as situating it within the context of a site-specific study. From this apparatus, each research question can be explored in better detail to reveal areas where theory moves into practice and how the result frames a clearer understanding of the practices used. The discussion in this chapter also notes where alignments and disconnects in the first two chapters occur and how this information better informs the prototypes aimed at obtaining the results laid out in chapter 4.
Chapter Four focuses on findings and applications to situate game-based learning in FYC courses. Concepts such as ludus, paidia, design grammars, environmental metacognition, and activity are explored and evaluated as tools for re-designs. Four FYC game-based learning tools serve as examples of constructed tangible game-based FYC designs. Each attempt to offer instructors a way to observe an artifact, or perhaps engine, to augment with and exhibit a shift from the troubling should to the asked for how. Certainly, none of these claims to be perfect, but they exa well-informed attempt, and perhaps an additional paving, to answer the complex research questions that my work poses and that many instructors in the field ponder over. 39
Chapter Five synthesizes the entirety of the dissertation project and frames it as a point of connection between conversations in FYC and game-based learning. The work expounds on the difficult and complex, but necessary, task of moving gaming theory to practice in composition, a largely underrepresented undertaking. The goal is not only to add another voice to play and games as potential value generators for FYC, but it also adds to the tradition of gaming theory and contributes to the field by focusing way to move gaming theory to gaming praxis. As with most research worthy endeavors, this chapter will also acknowledge no one person can or should attempt to provide a complete answer; therefore, I will offer possibilities to continue this research and look into future considerations for other scholars who might share in cultivating the fruits of this work.
Conclusion
Formal education has long used play and games as a power way to connect student with curricular goals, but at some point, institutional memory waned and forgot just how interconnected the practice of productive play informed student literacies. Even as buzzwords such as “21st Century Literacies” capture the attention of administrators and raise questions among instructors of English, play and games that espouse NCTE’s definition of these terms seemingly orbits at the outer ring of the university. Part of this positioning may result from deep seated cultural beliefs about games as pure leisure or toys for occupying children’s minds, or perhaps some scholars remain curious and unaware of just how to enact the theory of gaming in their practices. Either way, prominent scholars such as Gee, Juul, Bogost, and even writing gurus comprised of Selfe, Hawisher, Alexander and Rhodes, and many others have called upon the academy to recognize games as valuable media and practices to explore. Such scholars have laid eyes on a frontier where play and games coalesce to meet the needs of our students. Their 40 collective energies provide a powerful ethos, one gaming scholars need if they are to cross the gates of the proverbial ivory tower where change is often slow and judiciously guarded.
Understanding that gaming theory must do more than talk the talk, my work joins a generation of scholars who focus on moving theory to praxis. Walking the walk is difficult, progressive, and sometimes requires tedious undertakings, but this work moves forward by engaging in the rough where practices are explored and refined in situ with our students and colleagues. Games, especially video games, operate in many cultural spaces, but as Blair,
Almjed, and Murphy (2014) remind us about the intellectual value of connectivity to game processes, “communication goals reveal much about the games we play. We should also keep them in mind when composing outside of gaming worlds” (p. 190). Play is then more than a mechanical undertaking; it is the constant process of learning about an endeavor, such as writing, and about ourselves through the endeavor. This understood as a sort of maxim drives my work to opportunities and perhaps some tools for the kind of creation of play I envision. However, justifying this work is not an effort to stargaze about refashioning 21st Century literacies or sway the multitudes of FYC; rather, it is an attempt to reframe ancient memory in new media and analyze the perplexing how question in a way that invites the collective intelligences of our colleagues to productively play towards answers. The FYC instructor then may construct play where students attempt to apply the skills and literacies we profess toward some tangible goal aimed at the betterment of their scholarly and civic life. And while that is the game, whether it be to play at solving campus parking, explore a community in a strange land, or work as habits of mind consultants to improve a fictious start-up company, the student takes away, or transfers, what they have learned to their own meaningful projects in the class and beyond. To nod at
Wittgenstein, the merit of this work is that it seeks the rough ground in FYC where we might 41 find the necessary friction to move across the often-slippery surface where we move from theory to practice. 42
CHAPTER 2: FINDING OUR HESTU IN THE WORLD OF COURSE DESIGN
After a hundred-year slumber, the amnesiac Link in The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the
Wild wakes to find himself in a strange version of his beloved world of Hyrule. Once the opening scene concludes, the game begins with Link alone in his Hylian boxers with no clear indication about how to begin his quest. Yet, there exists an exigency for him to move towards some adventure, and as the player, we know some grand design makes the whole venture possible.
Link doesn’t have overwhelming physical strength and he doesn’t command arcane magics, but players can bet their “old shirt” (one of the first items Link obtains) that he is one of the best handyman adventurers to ever exist in any game world. Link’s real talent lies in the application of methods, enacted ways of understanding and working through problems via an impressive inventory of tools and items he collects during his adventures. In this way, Link’s work serves as an analogy for considering the inventory of methods aimed at understanding a parallax view of the game-based designs in this study: crafting tools, and a kit, from objects and observations that consider the framing of play through activity, teacher research, and Dynamic Criteria Mapping.
Framing Analytical Methods with Games and Play
Games are particularly successful at framing boundaries, defining the content within those boundaries, and laying out methods or controls regarding how to progress through the carefully laid out world. Such framing becomes necessary for a game-based course because it often becomes easy to holistically clump gaming theory together or to assume some holistic process may or may not work for any occasion. In the gaming world, this might be the equivalent of predicting that the methods and controls, or even the mindset, for a Mario Bros. game will apply to a Zelda game; however, both have different approaches and purposes. Similarly, this study accepts its status as differentiated, embedded and embodied, and collaborative and co- 43 designed. These controls present an opportunity to apply scholarly methods in a way that best attempts to understand the activities undertaken.
Differentiated Immersion
The First-Year Composition (FYC) courses explored in this study use the Literacy
Narrative, Discourse Community, Rhetorical Analysis, Theory of Writing, and Remix projects widely used in many of BGSU’s GSW courses but applies game-based augmentations, often called “On-the-Scene” activities to offer immersive applications related to such work.
Importantly, the goal of such work doesn’t suggest a better method of teaching FYC, nor does it simply add a shiny wrapper to make writing projects “fun.” Johnson and Colby’s (2013) “Ludic
Snags” offers both the interested and skeptical teacher some key takeaways about the instruments used. First, they offer games, particularly video games, as “different” and potentially good for those interested in this kind of work, but no better than any other approach. Second,
Johnson and Colby debunk the myth that games are always meant as purely “fun” endeavors.
Often, games present challenges, moments of frustration, and tedious thought or activity; however, these can still illicit rewarding outcomes (pp. 91-92). Finally, Johnson and Colby add,
“Our argument here is not that first-year writing teachers necessarily must bring games into their classroom…Rather, first-year writing teachers interested in integrating games into their classrooms should play more video games” (p. 91). This is to say the methods presented in this study come from my understanding of play as I have both studied it from an academic perspective and experienced it individually, as well as along with my students.
The future researcher may certainly apply the methods from this study if appropriate for the research, but it should be noted that this work concentrates on qualitative practices to better understand how play augments writing rather than how play might simply make writing more
44 pleasant. Just as Link has inventory slots for his various tools, the methods here occupy their own slots for the type of work at hand.
Embedded and Embodied
In the GSW courses studied, writing exists as a practice in many zones, both inside and outside of the classroom, as well as in physical and digital spaces. Due to the immersive nature of the game-based practices used and required writing in all these spaces, the processes and products involved often become embedded data connected by the impetus to seize some kairotic moment through an embodied experience. For example, the students in one GSW group attempting to solve a mystery changed tactics, asked about the rules, and then developed their own “side-quest” to reapproach a solution. In another event, the student found it necessary to query a Non-Playing Character (NPC) as part of their approach. On many occasions, the participants shifted their activities, composed artifacts, and used physical and digital spaces simultaneously. Much like the many side quests and random encounters in our Zelda analogy, these moments rarely replicate themselves exactly or organically, but they still offer a great deal of research value and often lead to the creation of equally valuable artifacts. The whole of the class, teacher included, becomes a community by which embedded an embodied data exists. As
Blair, Almjed, and Murphy (2014) explain their “Gaming Worlds” chapter, “One of the best ways to learn about a community is to live in it” (p. 188). From this perspective, an argument might be made that one of the best ways to gather data from a community is to observe it acting within its environments.
45
Collaborative and Co-Designed
Collaborative and co-designed play creates an interesting, if not complex, approach to methods. Gee’s “Afterword” in Sheridan and Roswell’s (2010) Design Literacies describes co- production through the example of a game. The player at first sees themselves as a user and the creator as the designer, then the player becomes aware of the rules by which they can use the design to their advantage, a “deconstruction” of design intended to serve the goals and purposes of the user. Players may then “cheat,” via code, modify, or use the game in some originally unintended or unexpected way. They may also be asked or encouraged by the original designer to co-design (p. 115). At first blush, some onlookers may perceive this manipulation of design as disruptive or even destructive to the reason behind the original design. And from an educational standpoint, some teachers may fret over the loss of total design control in their activities, but Gee
(2010) notes, “The ‘logic’ of gaming leads gamers to see games as designed; to see design as an invitation for modification and redesign; and to see designing as really collaborative co-design.
Game designers who stay in business have long caught onto all this” (p. 115). In this study, the
On-the-Scene activities provide an opportunity and method for such interaction and co- production.
On-the-Scene
The On-the-Scene activities serve as the delivery system for game-based augmentations in this study. Each game-based activity served as a self-contained mode of play but related to course readings and major projects. The On-the-Scene activities were scheduled into the syllabus and took place during course time. Students were aware when an On-the-Scene activity began and ended, an important point of consideration, as some game-based strategies may elect to blur the lines between play and “real world” work. A more extensive description of these activities
46 and their future modifications will be discussed in chapter three and chapter five where they appropriately fit into the methodology and design sections, but it is important to note the contained nature of these activities became necessary to serve as a tool for discreetly studying play as an augmentation; however, teachers wishing to use similar activities or modes of play may compartmentalize or extend their use as much as desired.
Participants
Participants for this study consist of First Year Composition (FYC) students from
Bowling Green State University’s (BGSU) General Studies Writing (GSW) 1110: Introduction to Academic writing class. This is the first course many first-year students take when going through the writing program at BGSU, introducing them such topics as rhetoric, genre, formatting, critical writing/reading, and confidence building in written and oral documents. The decision to focus on these participants meets a need to demonstrate ways in which site-specific populations become valuable when analyzing the ways play may work towards dedicated curricular needs. As human subjects are involved in this study, a complete Institutional Review
Board (IRB) proposal was submitted and subsequently approved for the study. This population will hereafter be referred to as GSW 1110 students, participants, or “students” for short.
GSW 1110 accounts for the first college level writing course that a majority of BGSU students enroll in via a writing placement test, but it should be noted that while many of these students are incoming first-year students any GSW 1110 course may also contain sophomores through seniors, students retaking the course, non-traditional students, and current high school students earning English credits in the College Credit Plus program. The GSW courses explored in this study include GSW 1110, section 2025 and GSW 1110, section 2031.
47
GSW 1110, section 2025 met Tuesdays and Thursdays from 2:30 p.m.-3:45 p.m. in the
College Park Office Building, room 120. The final course roster contained 20 out of 22 students, all classified as Freshman by the university.
GSW 1110, section 2031 met Tuesdays and Thursdays from 4:00 p.m. -5:15 p.m. in the
College Park Office Building, room 120. The final class roster contained 22 students, 21 classified as Freshman and one classified as “Non-Matriculated FA Eligible” (college credit earning high school student) typically working in the class shown in Figure 1.
Figure 1. College Park Office Building, room 120, (a) back and (b) front
Participation Factors
The sample size for this study may vary by tool and by choice. Because I am the instructor for these course sections where activities and artifacts are produced for coursework, I am able to directly analyze and collect data from everyone who participated in turning in projects, discussion boards, On-the-Scene activities, and other forms of classwork; however, the students who chose to participate in the survey portion of this study may differ from the number of students who participated in class. In order to encourage more honest and accurate responses from students, a colleague administered the surveys to participants outside of my presence and I was only granted access to this data after the semester concluded and grades were submitted.
48
Activity Theory as a Testing and Patching Tool
As this dissertation’s title suggests, Activity Theory (AT) plays critical role in the study and creation of game-based protypes and principles of play in this study for its effectiveness as method, methodology, and engine of design. Classes, like games, can become seemingly convoluted by all of the lessons, readings, discussion, activities, lectures, assignments, and so on that will unquestionably overlap at some time or the other. Moreover, the characters and people involved may all simultaneously have different tasks and agendas. Such tedious work leads to some perplexing observations and questions.
Calling back the Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild analogy may offer some insights about why activity theory helps a study such as this one. As an open world game, players might go anywhere, take various quests, communicate with dozens of characters, and search out other characters who do not always remain stationary. Meanwhile, they may veer off into developing skills such as cooking, or determine they need an equipment upgrade that briefly takes them out of the storyline. Sometimes, they player will even reach areas they can’t explore yet and have to double back to find a new avenue of exploration. Players, especially if they are inexperienced, may soon find themselves in a quagmire of over stimulated decision making.
GSW 1110 may present a similar sort of wilderness for new students “awakening” to a new world from a three-month academic hiatus, and even the teacher wishing to explore an array of approaches may look upon the classroom as a strange new frontier. Just like Link, students must explore both physical and spatial locations such as texts, classrooms, libraries, digital course spaces, and course activities. Some will try to get ahead and need to double back. Others will divert their attention to “cooking” up improved skills in theses, formatting, and structure. Some will find a need for more inventory and search out their own version of Hestu, a creature that can create
49 new or expand inventory spaces for player to carry more items. The parallels can go on and on, but the main point is that the teacher wishing to do research must acknowledge the non-linear and non-uniform status of the participants. In other words, the projects and activities might apply to all students, but they may very will move through them at a different pace, with different intentions, or enter a sort of co-production phase where applicable--even in a single activity, let alone the whole of the course. How does a method measure so many moving parts? How can a method collect data on such a variety of elements?
Activity Theory may be an effective method for both classroom and game studies. As a method, AT is particularly efficient at sorting, analyzing, and mapping the flows, disruptions, and breakdowns of information among groups. It does this by distinguishing how rules, tools, divisions of labor, communities, and subjects work towards a bounded goal. When carefully observed, each of those categories acts as either a source of information, a way to get information, or a way to produce information. This categorical understanding of AT helps track the moving parts of a group, or activity system.
So, how does the researcher track the moving parts? When the Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild player opens the map screen (Figure 2) or interacts with the Sheikah slate, they can go to those respective screens and determine where they may need to travel, who they may need to communicate with, and plan an order of operations to achieve their goals. They may also place markers in areas they need to come back to or figure out what the game might or might not allow them to do as rules.
50
Figure 2. Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild (2017). Nintendo. (a) Sheikah Slate and (b) Map
An interesting feature of the map’s mechanics is that it doesn’t automatically show all locations and points of interest at once. Kwon’s (2018) “The Genius of the Map in Zelda: Breath of the
Wild” explains the game’s intentional withholding of information on the map encourages exploration and offers greater agency. The creators of Zelda probably didn’t have AT in mind, but when they implemented the Sheikah Slate and map screen, they essentially gave players a method to track information in an activity system. The video containing Kwon’s assessment of the map can be found on the link below, and transitions well into thinking about how such mapping ideas help manage game-based course design.
https://youtu.be/B_uf-jWbfLU
As a designer using activity theory, a similar method to Zelda’s can keep track of the moving parts. Essentially, the student may take an overview of the project and determine what objectives are important for the activity via a given description or through conversation. Then, they may decide on their mission, or what they hope to accomplish and how they will go about that goal with the information given, and so on. In fact, Spinuzzi’s (2013) Topsight offers the following AT method that may directly help the course designer answer the question:
(1) What's the objective that they're trying to accomplish over and over again?
51
(2) why—What's the outcome they want to produce?
(3) What tools do they use as they try to accomplish their objective?
(4) Who is directly using these tools to achieve the outcome?
(5) What formal and informal rules do people follow in this activity?
(6) What community stakeholders are indirectly involved?
(7) What's the division of labor at the site—how do people formally and informally
divide their roles?
As the course designer, I thought about these sorts of questions and how activity might work as a design element, or engine, for developing productive play. When observing play and activity in both video or board games and the classroom, I began to see both the processes that led participants towards achieving goals and those that created productive binds; however, play offered something more in the way of how a game developer can manipulate the world with the players to work towards a desirable outcome. If teachers could use activity to get a bird’s eye view of how students work, why couldn’t they do the same with play? Moreso, how could making these observations lead to even better play if approached with the mindset of developing a system to further curricular goals while still allowing students to have choice and flexibility?
Similar to Kwon’s take on Zelda, players in the class retained a great deal of agency. This is where AT as a method attempts to answer the second questions of managing a variety of activities, those directly contained in play, and those areas where other class materials such as readings, lectures, discussions, or student experiences might permeate in.
52
AT is an excellent method for organizing and analyzing information amongst a group, or chains of groups. If the shiny wrapper of Zelda’s graphics were removed from the game, the map, the Sheikah Slate, the towers with their vantage points, the characters, and every other facet
Link can interact with are essentially just pieces of information with different control and delivery mechanisms. In many writing courses, the textbook, articles, lectures, activities, videos, and assignments stripped of their own wrappers also function as information with different delivery mechanisms. This view isn’t meant to diminish any approach or conceive of our work as having a Matrix-like façade, but it does help the AT designer disseminate information into measurable categories (figure 3) that may help future design, consequently with opportunity for improved wrappers. Spinuzzi (2013) offers the following data collection methods:
Figure 3. Activity Theory System Components from Spinuzzi’s (2013) Topsight.
Using these tools as a method may add better a heuristic of understanding how students move towards as goal based on systems of information but requires an analysis of the produced and co-produced items developing for class purposes.
53
Teacher Research Artifacts
As an embedded and collaborative member of the classroom/laboratory, the teacher researcher offers a powerful method for delivering and understanding complex data. The choice to include teacher research serves two critical purposes. First, the GBL teacher plays an important role as designer, co-designer, and developer much in the same way video game or board game designers learn and grow along with their players (students). Second, teacher research offers a method to observe artifacts and classroom situations that organically occur. In other words, I believe the immersive and collaborative designs this study wishes to explore embrace the organic “messiness” of classroom work in a way traditional control/variable laboratory investigation illicit when the researcher and subjects remain in isolation. A more investigative and definitive analysis of the methodological choices for this study exists in chapter three, but as a method, teacher research provides a wide scope of tools.
Teacher research allows for triangulation. McPolin (2007) describes triangulation in teacher research as a “practice of viewing things from more than one viewpoint: it is where more than one method is used to illicit different types of data from the same sample” (p. 183). For example, an On-the-Scene activity may lead to discussion boards, reflective writing, or even inspire students to develop projects. These artifacts all present data the teacher may evaluate to better question what worked well and what failed as a way inform their practices. As Painter’s
(n.d) “Teacher Research Could Change Your Practice: Add It to Your Professional
Development” article adds, Teacher-researchers simultaneously act as participants and observers as they conduct research in their own classrooms (para. 4). In a GBL course design, this interaction becomes invaluable as student comments, group work, products, and experiences help the teacher researcher modify designs and pose more informed research questions as data is
54 collected. For example, students working through one GBL design felt the difficulty was too easy. Although the point of the design was aimed at teaching collaboration rather than posing a challenge, the students astutely pointed out difficulty as a factor I did not previously consider.
Some of the students even wanted to play through the scenario again, offering suggestions about how to make “the game” harder. In my mind, this moment of co-production not only caused me to reconsider a design practice in situ, but the students requested a staple of gaming--the choice to set a difficulty level to their ability.
Importantly, teacher research allowed for an honest conversation about the course and projects they encountered. McPolin (2007) discusses ethical and open guidelines for research, explaining transparency with regards to the scope of the research. Student in my class knew I was the primary researcher, but they also understood that I would never challenge their opinions about a design when they gave them, and they also knew I respected their privacy and anonymity by leaving the classroom and bringing in a neutral party when it surveys were administered.
Also, like McPolin’s experience with teacher research, I found my students surprisingly open to the research and candidly spoke about what they liked and didn’t like about particular aspects of the designs offered in the course--all of which speak to the sorts of data beta testers may give game designers, or in this case, writing students may give a GBL designer.
Classroom DCM Maps
In Zelda, a player might stand upon the precipice of an ancient tower and reflectively gaze upon all they have seen. Imagine if players did this while the developers sat near them and asked them what the game really valued from its players. And from these results, the developers assessed if their goals when making the game had been accurate and how they impacted the purpose of the game. Bob Broad’s Classroom Dynamic Criteria Mapping (DCM) serves as a
55 method that does this sort of evaluative work. For GBL work, this method may be able to better determine what is really valued in projects and how the instructor might either change or emphasize play accordingly.
Broad’s (2003) What We Really Value: Beyond Rubrics in Teaching and Assessing
Writing indicates that Classroom DCM operates in a similar fashion to programmatic DCM, but grants students the authoritative role “because students hold more data on what the instructor really values as to what the instructor thinks she values” (p. 136). Students assist in this research by gathering their papers, feedback, handouts, comments, assignments, and any other course related material to map out what they believe the instructor values in their work (p. 136).
Near the end of the semester, students were asked to bring their materials to class as well as accessing Canvas to create criteria maps. They were asked to categorize and cluster information about what they felt was valued and create a “map” listing several criteria. At first, students struggled to determine how to best approach such a schema, but decided keywords might best represent the processes, products, and skills they felt the class asked of them. The class discussions, discussion boards, and our in-class mapping revealed that DCM can positively assist the GBL designer as much as the individual teacher or department that DCM originally aimed at. By understanding what we collectively, as student and teacher, value in play, a method exists for continuing to refine the kit and the products that spring forth.
Some critical factors may be necessary to consider when evaluating Classroom DCM for this project. The concept behind Classroom DCM seems to hold great promise for the GBL interested instructor, but this was the first time I, and likely my students, have ever used such a mapping tool. As a final note, the grading contract may also create some ambiguities with data collection because a chief purpose of the contract is built around growth in areas the student
56 finds valuable, and not just what the teacher finds valuable. Nonetheless, the possible pitfalls described may be mitigated to some degree by the spirit of the course itself--to discover oneself as an academic, writer, and community member.
Surveys
Surveys offer a valuable method to directly collect data from students participating in the Game-Based Learning (GBL) elements of the course, and to examine how those elements might or might not assist in course learning goals. Because much of the course is interactive and closely situates the students and the teacher in activities discussed in this study, the survey allows for the student participants to anonymously voice their opinions about GBL elements of the course.
This study uses a longitudinal cohort approach, drawing on two equivalent but separate populations of GSW 1110. As Cohen, Manion, and Morrison (2007) point out, “Cohort studies of human growth and development conducted on representative samples of populations are uniquely able to identify typical patterns of development and to reveal factors operating on those samples which elude other research designs” (p. 216). The advantage of using such a design is that it can capture data by the individual over time and then compared to the group of other survey participants. This offers a superior method over cross-sectional methods by allowing the researcher to better study and articulate “individual variations in growth or establish casual relationships between variables” (Cohen, Manion, and Morrison, 2007, p. 217). Additionally, the timeline can demonstrate patterns of growth, change, or even decline.
As with any method, the cohort model also suffers from some distinct disadvantages.
Often, the cohort model is more expensive, time consuming, and suffers from attrition. In this
57 study, cost issues are negated for the researcher in this study because the sample is taken from students enrolled in a class. The timeline of the study is limited to only one semester, but this factor is generally offset by the fact that the scope of the study focuses on GSW 1110 and doesn’t expand into other courses. Attrition may serve as the most problematic factor. Students may have decided to drop out of the study if the surveys seemed too redundant, or irrelevant.
In terms of specific population and delivery, participants included students in GSW 1110-
2025 and GSW 1110-2031. The content given to each class was identical, and the two cohorts never interacted with each other in the classroom during the course of the study. Participating students were given a survey after the second, third, and fourth project of the semester. For correlating data, the students self-selected an identification number that transferred across all surveys taken, but the researcher has no other way of determining the student’s identity. The surveys were distributed by a Teaching Associate in the English department, and the results were sealed and delivered to the General Studies Writing department. The researcher was not able to review the data until the semester ended. Prior to distribution, these surveys were reviewed and approved by the Institutional Review Board (IRB) at BGSU.
The choice to use survey questions is aided by the recognition of a number of advantages and disadvantages. On the one hand, questionnaires provide an efficient way to collect data:
“Questionnaires yield responses that are usually easy to tabulate or score, and the resulting data are easy to analyze” (Patten, 2011, p. 1). For this study, this means survey data can be examined via specific written response and scored alongside one another. Additionally, surveys can be useful for collecting information that allows anonymous and potentially more truthful response in an economical way. However, surveys cannot offer a complete picture. They often offer only a snapshot of the participant’s feelings, never quite gaining rapport, exploring dialogue outside of
58 the confines of the written question, and whether or not the participant holds any bias for or against the study (Patten, 2011, p. 2-3). This study attempts to bridge some of these gaps by utilizing a number of choice responses and open-ended questions. The use of multiple surveys along with focus group data may help draw out intersections where data converges or diverges between these two methodological tools.
Ethnography
To celebrate Sheridan’s (2012) “Making Ethnography Our Own,” my acceptance of ethnography as a messy affair ultimately tried to make sense of the work by concentrating on policy, or a way of understanding how all the forces at play culminate towards a focused approach. This study embraces this method as course designer, specifically one working to understand how various networks of interaction, those bundled into a synthesis of course goals and play work as classroom augmentations. The prototypes that come forth through this study act as both an object and a process that we as teacher and student experience together. My goal in providing both face to face and online forums for discussing how such prototypes are mediated through and received calls upon students as co-producers to examine and add insight as to whether such machinations are virtuous or wanting. In so many ways, ethnography binds all of the methods described herein as it seeks to make understanding of the larger research questions in this study by carefully observing what students do, what they say, and the various forms of embodied practice that simply cannot be tallied in a numerical way. Because play itself, like our unique classrooms and students, is so intrinsically tied to cultural settings, Sheridan’s call to consider language and cultural practices as beneficial to ethnography makes this method an ideal lynchpin to reliability--and to better organizing a methodological feedback system for refining the development kit at hand. 59
Conclusion of Methods
In many ways, the Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild analogy becomes analogous the work we do as teachers and researchers. Despite our best efforts to capture some sort of mystical, scholarly mana out there in the world, we often find ourselves more like the adventuring handyman, Link. We address obstacles and seek solutions through the knowledge we gain and the skills we stack in our inventory, ever searching for the Hestu that will grant us more space to add to our repertoires. The methods presented in this chapter by no means represent the perfect assortment for course designers, but they do speak to a part of a scholarly map I have explored and the tools I have picked up from my mentors, students, and investigations. This is to say that these methods give a perspective of my work from the “towers” I’ve explored in a world map that may take a whole career, or more, to uncover. But if I have learned anything from games and from teaching, it is that the messiness of exploration and the method employed somehow, by effort and by the wisdom of experience, get us to closer to the horizons we seek in our practice. 60
CHAPTER 3: MANEUVERING THROUGH OUR METHODOLOGICAL MADNESS
Although it’s been some years past, the memory of Major Chavez remains tucked in a corner of my mind. She had set foot on yet another battlefield in a war-torn hellhole just like several before, replete with the same mud and blood that had paved out her destiny. If she had a weakness, it was how her incredible speed tempted a certain recklessness. She had the ability to slip in and rescue civilians from unspeakable terrors before the opposition could do anything about it--and it was addictive to marvel at the efficiency with which she did this work. One fateful day, she found herself separated from her unit and impossibly outnumbered by unforeseen horde of enemies emerging out of the nearby fog of war. Sadly, Chavez fell that day, and I was crushed, as the weeks I spent knowing and working with her ended so abruptly. The finality of it all really did make me feel ill, and I’m not sure how long it took me to recover, or if I really did.
Maybe I had intentionally repressed the memory of her motionless form out of despair for what her passing meant at the time, but the awful memory suddenly rushed back as I sat in deep contemplation with Harvey Walters and Mandy Thompson in Easttown (Figure 4). Our world was literally coming to an end. Walters began to slowly lose his mind, a manic mess two steps away from turning on all of us. Mandy was paranoid and unsure if she could close the gates in time before they came. As for me, I could almost hear the “Great Old One” at the door step, but I resolved to simply sit and reflect on the lessons Chavez taught me about procedure, careful development, testability, and the value of communication. Certainly, others stood in my very position, and I found myself wanting to share in their experience, to collectively rethink how we approach knowing and doing, and just how much it means in immersive situations. 61
Figure 4. Immersive Play.(a)Walters and Thompson at Easttown in from Arkham Horror and (b) Major “Erin “Scorchy” Harris from Xcom2. Both games focus on critical, procedural thinking and immerse players into their storylines through rich and meaningful experiences. Framing Methodologies that Inspire Collaboration and Relayability Over Replicability
The story I open with may seem peculiar for a methodology section, but it will hopefully become evident that epistemology in a methodological sense, and how it applies to play, is irrevocably tied to situated, connected, and experiential designs that consider all these modes of interaction. The reflections offered regarding Chavez and Walters came about not as given conditions of some design, but as a series of too many human variables to efficiently replicate in any textbook matter. In other words, the physical conditions may remain relatively the same if either situation were replayed, but the events set into motion by my agency might be extremely difficult to replicate by anyone else in any organic manner. Even if tedious hours went into doing so, it would ultimately be a forced endeavor where some might even wonder if replication might do more harm than good. This idea combats any notion that might wander into the cliched phrase of “creating an experience.” Scenarios and situations may be created with great attention to how a player or student might experience them, but ultimately, the experience is manifested by those engaged in these ludic moments (Figure 5). And although this lack of control may trouble many 62 traditional scientific approaches, it is good for this sort of work because it celebrates individualism and allows us as researchers to better understand many points of view.
Figure 5. Xcom 2 Movement. Close up view showing normal movement range costing 1 action(blue), and expanded movement range of the same location costing 2 actions (yellow). Given the range of movement and interactivity with nearly every object in the environment, even this introductory level may offer a variety of experiences. In this first level, the game does offer a moment of “pause” to procedurally teach players the valuable tactic of finding cover.
To better explain these points as research in a fruitful manner, we must first set aside several of the problematic devices and assumptions that the so-called hard sciences have often made prototypical of methodology sections that emphasize perfectly replicable processes and data. Replication in some cases such as the production of life saving medicines or reliable bridge construction is appropriate; however, the practice of learning about one’s self and the world through writing does not, and probably should not, fixate on eliciting universally-synced answers. My assertion here is to say that sites of writing may be completely different or quite close in design, but they need to be understood as unique sites with inhabitants that will irrevocably resist uniform replicability by either conscious or subconscious means. The move then is to promote our colleagues to use methods and findings in a way that informs further collaborative research with relayable experience in mind. 63
In addressing the problems of quantifying data via methods and replicability promoted by methodology sections of reports, scientific undertakings, or even dissertations, another instructor or researcher may observe a site-specific study such as this one and toil over the relationship between research tool and data or the fitness of a methodological apparatus insofar as it may or may not create equivalent results for their own use. I propose from the onset that this way of sense-making speaks to an antiquated version of research where researcher, subject, and method are supposedly separated and situated in a carefully controlled environment. Springgay and
Truman’s On the Need for Methods Beyond Proceduralism: Speculative Middles, (In)Tensions, and Response-abiltiy in Research (2017) draw upon Weaver and Snaza to “argue that traditional qualitative approaches to research fetishize methods, and in doing so maintain an understanding of methods as predetermined entities that exist separate from the research event” (p. 2). In response, Springgay and Truman propose the following mindset for methods:
it is the logic of procedure and extraction that needs undoing. Research methods cannot
be framed as a process of gathering data. Understood rationally, methods become “a
disturbed, immanent field of sensible processes within which creative variations give rise
to modifications and movements of thinking. Research methods become a practice of
getting inside a research event. (p. 2)
The move here is not to elude methods altogether or discount them, but rather to reinforce my choice to use Activity Theory, Teacher Research, and Dynamic Criteria Mapping as methods that anticipate evolving processes of getting “inside” research rather than separating it from the study, one that realizes participants as actors upon the method itself and who may very well observe my existence not only as a researcher, but also a possible co-participant. Although these ideas may bring relief to some in their resistance to coldly observing students as mere subjects 64 isolated in some objective manner, others may become concerned with objectivity itself and the pull to rationalize data as mere facts that either bolster or discount a project. To this end, Latour offers some explanation.
Latour and Woolgar’s Laboratory Life: The Construction of Scientific Facts offers that even the most astute scientists fall prey to reliability problems that make specific replications impossible through the mere act of inscription, description, transcription, and processing of data to figures or diagrams (pp. 48-52). Latour further stymies the notion of specific replication by noting,
A fact only becomes such when it loses all temporal qualifications and becomes
incorporated into a large body of knowledge. Consequently, there is an essential
difficulty associated with writing the history of a fact: it has, by definition, lost all
historical reference. (p. 106)
If Latour’s point is to signal a fundamental fallacy involved in the many ways data is collected and delivered as “fact” that others can precisely rely upon in every case, then Erin Manning’s
(2016) chapter, Against Method adds to the conversation by arguing for “research creation” due to the development of technologies and forms of expression that do not neatly fit conservative,
“logical” and systematic-minded methodologies. An example might be data appearing in the form of art, music or sound, various multimodal compositions, or even the processes and performances involved in play. These forms of “data” beget a myriad of human processes that rarely, if ever, transcend their natural form into some pure numeric quality afforded by the methodological tools science has made available. This is in many ways an aesthetic and performative bind, further splayed by the illusion that a number can be truly representative. 65
A number of examples exist which might clarify the aesthetic and performative arguments. Consider a game such as Enigma Emporium’s Wish You Were Here (Figure 6), where a criminal “mastermind” toys with players by presenting them a series of complex puzzles laid out across five postcards. The player must analyze the card for clues and work through their obvious, and sometimes hidden, puzzles in order to successfully ascertain the full story and undo the villain’s plot. Even though the game has a thought-out design, players might make notes, search the Internet, draw, annotate, re-sequence, or possibly even cut and splice cards to create meaning. Some groups may solve the puzzle but rely on spoken language and gestures such as pointing, orient the cards in different positions without leaving much recorded data. If an FYC teacher were to use such a game as a way to understand visual or procedural rhetoric, how might their rules or expectations affect experience? What about the dynamics a group has on experience?
Figure 6. Wish You Were Here. Offers an interesting way to analyze, or even create, a multimodal “text” in a rhetorical way. Empirically evaluating experiences and interpretations becomes problematic, but it is still important. As “Against Method W/ Erin Manning (2017) suggests, interface and the “bookish” nature of many scientific approaches may not work well. How can expressive, antistatic, and gestural processes and products created by the students at play be truly replicated? If it can’t, does this make those student contributions invalid as research? In these ways, Latour and 66
Manning seemingly use experiences and reasoning to put traditional, especially numerical-based, methods in a perilous state of check. Traditional methods must then answer some troubling questions to get out of the trap. For example, what does a 3 or a 5 really mean to each student on a Likert scale for what a student might experience in the Wish You Were Here example? What about answers such as “very good”, “not good”, or “neutral”? What margin of error might a word such as “very” involve? What happens when one student declares the criteria for a “3” as different from another student’s criteria for that same number? For humanities, castling against such questions leaves the number-oriented researcher in the uneasy predicament of acknowledging a possibly large range of accuracy and precision problems or by yielding that each group may encounter the experience differently--a shift to relaying rather than replicating.
Manning and company in seminar two of The Centre for Disruptive Media: Disrupting the
Humanities (2017) offers an extensive outlook on such methodology, especially in the artistic and digital realms of the field.
https://youtu.be/ZEUZ6PWzJqU
Yet, the onus of the researcher is often to do exactly that--code and explain “data,” however murky the term becomes, as or into percentages, charts, clusters, or other numeric values that inevitably lose information in translation. In this way, Latour’s trap is sprung and the researcher, at least in the humanities, is at once entangled in into the sticky situation of delivering statistics to strengthen the veracity of their study while at the same time wisely acknowledging all of the limitations that may prevent identical results for another study of the same kind. Such an explanation isn’t a move to promote an avantgarde approach to methodology or to maverick itself as anti-method or anti-data. Instead, the hope is to hearten and give hope to teachers and administrators who might otherwise perceive the methods or data presented in this study as too 67 situational or as attempting to arrogantly present “facts” for their courses by shifting to a mindset of relayability over replicability.
Relayability promotes the use of method and data as situated and experienced, but also shared across contexts and sites. Thus, I envision the methods I provide to allow for the flexibility of use within any system, if desired, but I expect the data to be different--sometimes dramatically so across sites. Because play relies upon the designers, actors, ecologies, goals, and experiential meaning-making, I foresee methodology as a framing heuristic that must relay what
I did and how I did it in order to better understand how others might continue the process and what they may do in order to better tool these designs for their work. With hope, such relays will continue back and forth, making us all co-researchers in kind. In a sense, relayability methodologically encourages co-agency, inviting others to the proverbial workbench to help in making the “thing” rather than a more singular and patriarchal position of me proposing some product as the “thing.”
Thinking About Games Alongside and Inside of Methods
Interestingly, games often naturally attune themselves to the methodological premises described herein. Now comes the reveal for those curious or confused about the opening narrative. Immersive technologies create controlled situations that blur the real and the unreal because they share an invested nexus point with the human who has invested real experiences and feelings in both realms. Neither Chavez nor Walters are real people, but they allow for a vicarious sort of realism. Hundreds, maybe thousands of people have their own Chavez and
Walters stories based what actions they filtered through the characters and scenarios. But both the characters and scenarios offer customization menus that allow for altering stats, difficulty settings, obstacles, and level considerations. As teachers, we use our own sort of “menus” in 68 course designs and activities to create what we feel might work best. This lends to a need for understanding by relay.
Notwithstanding the dramatic narrative of Chavez and the events at Easttown, both instances occurred in games where failure occurred by both a disregard for method and a strict adherence for a rigid adherence to a single method. Chavez, who will perhaps always hold a place in my heart, was my most prolific character in the video game, XCOM 2. This is a turn- based strategy game where the player recruits a team of commandos, creates a battle plan, and then strategically maneuvers against invading alien forces. Characters in this game can take weeks of planning to develop, and only a single moment of miscalculation can lead to their demise (Figure 7). Although variables frequently occur, XCOM is largely about a process of evaluation, procedure, gradual momentum, and understanding limits. Each level is a sort of experiment with a cast of digital individuals but moving outside of the process through a lack of care or through brashness will elicit a Chavez-like story. 69
Figure 7. The Select Difficulty screen from XCom2’s main menu. Notice the game’s cautionary hint to think before acting in the dialogue box to the right-a grim foreshadowing of what awaited Chavez some time later in the game. Although a writing classroom might not offer such a dire consequence, thinking about such settings as a form of rigor may help GBL designers scaffold activities.
The Easttown incident involving the characters Harvey and Mandy comes from Arkham
Horror, a lengthy and sometimes unforgiving game requiring players to work together to prevent
Lovecraftian monsters from destroying humanity. In this game, there is a clear method of progression, but unlike XCOM, where a single choice may confirm success or spectacular alien death ray failure, this game innocuously allows choices to mount and almost morphs its method alongside the players who engage in the world building. The takeaway from such an examination is that a study about play and course design must consider that games, play, simulations, and activities come equipped with their own methods, and to apply an overarching methodological approach may benefit from finding some alignments as a teacher or researcher. 70
Though it should be noted that my goal is not to retrofit academic method as game method, I found overlaps that made sense as a matter of design and a research method for such designs. Games can be construed as activity systems that require players to develop concrete objectives and learn within system of rules, tools, labors, and communities. Over time, I became better and even introduced new players to these games, acting as both a teacher and participant.
In a way, I was deeply immersed in an activity system, but I was also conducting something similar to teacher research practices by sharing curiosities or findings and assessing my own strategies to become better at helping others in these games. Additionally, developers and players are constantly in communication about how games are played, what is expected, what works and what does not, and what is valued during play. This sort of interaction is a close fitting of how
Dynamic Criteria Mapping (DCM) operates in educational settings. Framing methods in a way that may also become applicable to the processes of play helps orient them as a practical apparatus and sense-maker for connecting the sometimes-overlapping boundaries of play and coursework--connecting these real and unreal moments as transferable knowledge.
The opening story then becomes not so much about a tragic vignette into my gaming past, but a glimpse at a journey through a method of learning to become a better player and teacher.
And although it’s with some understanding that the outlying critic may feel these methods have been bootstrapped to gaming in some way, a closer inspection will hopefully show each method offers a valid construct of better play and for studying play better through design and choices in play. The combination of methods I deployed may reveal some success in practice and they may also provide opportunities for improvement. In either case, obtaining a more concrete investigation requires us to first go into the interrogative, or interrogatories if necessary, to pave out the boundaries of the research. 71
First Year Writing as a Site of Inquiry
Gaming theory and practice will likely continue to grow and evolve, making the need to bound this study to a specific domain necessary. This study applies its methods towards answering a set of concise questions as a way to frame, examine, and pose possible ludic approaches in a pedagogical way for FYC courses, specifically those found at BGSU as a model.
The specificity offered in such an inquiry attempts to build knowledge about play as praxis, identify play designs, and situate those designs in a curricular way for FYC; however, the study acknowledges the sites it operates in as just one context. Although other writing courses, departments, or institutions may gain insights or applications through the data collected in this study, the guiding questions that supply focus for this work cannot, nor should it, anticipate hypotheticals beyond the site of inquiry. Alternatively, larger “what if” questions for the whole of FYC may spring from the particulars of the work done here. This study relays its own findings as a point of view to those healthy and fruitful questions, encouraging the questioner to join this study by beginning similar praxis driven inspections of other sites of inquiry. The research questions here operate as a route through the methodology and geography of the site in question.
Research Question 1: How Can Game-Based Learning (GBL) be Better Understood,
Implemented, and Measured in First-Year Writing Courses?
One of the necessary challenges of developing an observable study that moves gaming theory into practice at a specific site comes with identifying a measurable process within discreet boundaries. For some time now, FYC courses at BGSU have affixed institutional requirements in the form of credit hours, grading instruments, learning outcomes, and general course information that informs all instructors and students as to the basic landscape of the course. It is important to note two variables BGSU’s writing programs allow that impact this study. 72
At BGSU, the writing program encourages themed proposals for first-year writing courses. For this study, a theme involving play was approved and used for two sections of GSW
1110. Students enrolling in the course were provided with a course description via the university’s registration process describing the theme before enrolling. Also, I sent out a welcome email that reminded students of the course theme and presented detailed information about the course in the syllabus. Although I believe principles behind good play can work in a single project or activity without explicitly declaring its philosophical origins, I also believe a whole course designed around play should be discussed with students in advance or on the first day of class. This is largely because the term “play” and “game” can have different meanings to both students and teachers, so the courses this study exams open with a clear discussion of what those terms mean.
Even so, this study did not attempt to gamify the entire course in a way that promoted badges, high scores, or immersed students in digital or other types of game worlds for the duration of the semester. The assignments used also do not prompt students to read or write about games. The goal was to use the types of academic readings and major projects that any other GSW 1110 course at BGSU might use such as literacy narratives, writing in a community, habits of mind, rhetorical and rhetorical theory projects, but create and understand them from game-based philosophies. Additionally, this creating and understanding process involves students and teacher as “co-producers,” a term that I imagine as participation, artifacts, suggestions that add to GBL activities. Together, we might decide on a rule change or location, co-create material useful for current and future play, or discuss how our experiences might lead to better designs that speak to our work in the class. Through these means, the students are also producing content and evolving the game. In short, my goal was to acknowledge Game-Based 73
Learning (GBL) and how it can be better understood as a practice that assisted and augmented courses in a way that considered both instructors and first-year writing students as co-producers.
Second, some teachers might ask how or if I connected play to grading. None of the games and play used in this study counted for or against any student’s grade. The games did, however, support learning for graded projects (Figure 8). In those projects, letter grades prevail as final assessment products, but the courses described in this study measure learning through labor-based grading contracts. As I have come to understand play and games, they are about exploring and learning identity, effort, confidence building, and progress through a process of productive failure and successes. Often, play and games are also about collaboration and collective problem solving with specific goals in mind. Labor-based grading seemed to make the most sense for this study, and perhaps for the use of play in general, by generating these types of values within the writing ecology of this study. For those who might consider integrating play,
Asao Inoue’s grading contract and Gee’s discussion of games as assessment share similar values of skills, abilities, experiences, and mentoring through both moments of success and productive failure --a source of connective tissue for moving studies of writing and game-based augmentations such as this one forward. 74
Figure 8: James Gee discussing games and assessment in “James on Games: A Conversation with James Paul Gee"
Inoue’s grading contract and Gee’s view that games can transform assessment seem to share many alignments in terms of shifting focus from grades alone to developing skills, experiencing, and a form of mentorship--a nod that grading contracts and play might help foster one another’s goals.
https://youtu.be/N-cc3snVsIA
The research question at hand relies upon a process of writing and writing mindset whereby understanding Game-Based Learning, implementation, and assessment are aided by the very ideation, risk-taking, productive failure, and experiential learning that has been cemented in play for years--and consequently encouraged by the type of assessments Inoue proposes. This is not to outright declare conventional grading requirements will negate the usefulness of this sort of course design, but another researcher re-asking this research question with conventional grading in mind will require juxtaposing student agency, effort, and productive failure against the students’ final product for each assignment. In other words, the values of play often lean towards processes where conventional grading tends to privilege products, sometimes without clearly sorting out how taking risks or effort mathematically works into the equation. For this study, labor-based grading seemed fitting assessment criteria to partner the values of play with
BGSU’s goals for first-year writers. In this way, my study suggests the FYC designer consider 75 the curricular architecture of writing program’s mission statement, learning outcomes, and grading/assessment policies as essential elements and forces that, when attached to principles of play, begin to co-create possibilities for the world building of the course.
Approaching this first research question may well work to spark the first cohesions of physical matter in transferring the theory of these principles of play to a testable construct. It does so by first acknowledging the site of the university, the department, and the type of course, then considers how GBL might be understood within the curricular opportunities and constraints of the site. In other words, we may think of the designer as operationalizing BGSU’s writing program requirements and GBL principals of play towards terraforming of an ecology for the course design. By considering the assessment values, opportunities, and constraints of the site, we move towards developing a sort of atmosphere by which the inhabitants, the students and instructor that is, may cultivate the ecology by the work that takes place therein. Moving metaphor aside, this research question essentially moves the designer to consider the parameters that dictate the space(s) itself and how play serves learning and writing by the stakeholders of the space.
Research Question 2: What are Some Specific Tools and Designs that First-Year Writing
Teachers Can Use and Augment for Game-Based Learning?
Whether it be academic conferences, discussions with scholars in the field, or informal and impromptu chats with the members of the general public, I have become aware that the topic of play and games as pedagogy often comes with a great deal of curiosity, uncertainty, and even skepticism. The crux of these conversations often becomes about specific practices with regards to pedagogical tools and designs. Most of time these questions are warranted, as games often present questions of engagement, technological proficiency, and foundational connections to 76 recognized best practices. For a number of people, Gee’s What Video Games Have to Teach us about Learning and Literacy (2003) and Situated Language and Learning: A Critique of
Traditional Schooling (2004) painted many, if not most, learning strategies in “school” as a big bad wolf of sorts, responsible for disengaged students and less than effective practices. The pushback from skeptics was that if Gee hinted at games to be a silver bullet, he never gave explicit instructions on how to craft it. Even those that remain curious or endeavor to use play or games often inquire about the secret sauce for creating an ideal ludic course design. Others just want to see “the thing,” some revolutionary gadget or program that will revolutionize gaming’s validity in the classroom. This research question attempts to explore those concerns within the context of my study.
Sadly, the gaming silver bullet probably doesn’t exist anymore than the big bad wolf itself, but the conversation Gee started in his texts offers a very real glimpse at the tensions between progressive theorizing and progressively pursuing praxis. Logistically, gaming theory doesn’t account for how different teachers might affix theory to other pedagogical practices, the retrofitting of games to a particular suite of perfect assignments, nor the interaction and response students might have to implementation. However well developed, the practice of play will likely be messier than theory because of the agency players/students utilize and/or create in the space where activity occurs. This is not a deficiency of design, but rather an assertion that games act as vehicles and tools all at once, often sorted into genres that have degrees of customization and uses. As course designers, we may think of a construction site where dump trucks, cranes, and bulldozers are outfitted with the kits that will work in tandem to develop the landscape of the project; similarly, the games we kit out have a specific way of working towards specific goals we have in mind. In this way, this study calls special attention to the word “specific” in site-specific 77 as not a singular declaration that one thing works for any site, but more collectively in the sense that others may observe method and data from my site and re-ask the question of their own. For the GSW 1110 courses explored in this study, the major projects including the Literacy
Narrative, Discourse Community Analysis, Rhetorical Analysis, and Theory of Writing projects, as well as the learning outcomes and classroom, were already known--thus informing the “kits,” or GBL tool that would become the “site.” In this way, the curious and the skeptic alike may find some value in reframing such designs as purposeful tools with a myriad of kits rather than as some magic bullet.
Simply put, my study is not about using Gee’s or any other gaming scholar’s ideas towards the proclamation of the one perfect first-year writing course design for the whole of the multitudes. Obtaining “the thing” often lives in mythos for any scholar in any field, let alone rhetoric or philosophy; however, some remedy exists not so much in the ability to create the
“secret sauce” of play and writing, but in way teachers might find the ingredients to brew their own delicious blend of designs and spice them with play to their tastes.
In thinking of designs, this study observes the ingredients found in games that offer productive play and joins them with transfer and metacognitive practices found in writing studies. The resultant tools in this study may come in a number of media, but the design, or
“programming” tested in this study attempts to act as a sort of dialogue between gaming and writing theory. What follows is a heuristic that demonstrates this process as not only a conversation, but the weaving of material designs and tools for play in this study. These designations are meant not as a final constitution of design, but as a methodological way to link writing and play for data collection. The question attempts to find answers by utilizing the following: 1) critical simulation. Gonzalo Frasca’s “Videogames of the Oppressed: Critical 78
Thinking, Education, Tolerance, and other Trivial Issues” (2004) contends critical simulation in video games moves beyond narratives observing where events have already happened and to a
“dynamic system” of making meaning while becoming involved in relationships with the environment, the agents, the situational mechanics, and the influence of outcomes based on the simulation (p. 86). Additionally, Frasca (2004) concedes that videogames have been used for learning but argues that many games and game concepts used with an education focus too much on immersion in an Aristotelian sense.
The player, like the theater spectator, becomes immersed in the story and its outcome and likely loses critical distance that may increase meaning making (p.87). He offers a possible solution with an observation of the Theatre of the Oppressed. The Theatre of the Oppressed circumvents many of the Aristotelian rules by breaking the fourth wall to actively engage the audience, forgoing “beautiful or enjoyable performances” with neat endings that show what happened to instead observe events and make decisions that show what could happen (p. 87). By these means, the audience is 1) all at once inside and removed from the simulation and well positioned for critical discourse, 2) principles of play bounded, 3) activity and with an emphasis on, 4) Socratic problem solving and 5). transfer. How does this work? The Theatre of the
Oppressed NYC: Sneak Peek (2011) below offers an example. It becomes clear the audience knows their duality as audience and immersed member. Teachers who watch examples might think of themselves as the narrator and students, or NPCs, as the players. Through this lens, the teacher might begin to think of immersive play in their classrooms and moments to both immerse and give pause for critical reflection on a topic of their own choosing. This is not so much the
“sauce,” but rather the ingredients I offer designers to use as a heuristic in making and measuring their own secret sauce to taste.
79
https://youtu.be/vi1HfSiMxCU
It should be noted that a key component which remains absent in this discussion is a critical analysis of the roles students take on as co-producers. Though such an undertaking does apply as a methodological consideration, it may be more prudent to account for this contribution in Chapter 4 where data students supply has been properly extrapolated and augmented into proposed designs. The GBL designs and tools are known as On the Scene within the GSW classrooms used in this study.
Research Question 3: How Can Instructors Use Specific Game-Based Strategies and Tools
to Identify with Their Students, Their Curriculum, and Themselves?
Methodologically, this study introduced a number of designs labeled as “On the Scene” game-based designs as tools aimed at engaging productive play and as ways to learn more about how students might “play” towards curricular goals. These “games” work in ways that consider students as learners and co-designers. Initial designs for these games blueprint components of games such as identity, environment, problem-based activities, leveling, Non-Playing Character
(NPC) interaction, and win and fail states. Strategically, the problem states for such games require the students to not only understand but enact course goals to succeed. The game’s story and artifacts then become a wrapper of sorts, with progress directed through principles of play.
For example, students were tasked to become reporters, investigators, community leaders, and consultants in a number of scenarios carefully aimed at experiencing rhetorical situation, crafting multiple genres, engaging in research, and building their individual and group confidence. These designs take aim at curriculum, but they also needed to identify with students.
80
Many successful game developers beta test with their players in order to create the best possible designs, and it is my opinion that instructors interested in play in academics should likewise co-develop with their students. It is not unheard of for instructors to use a game in a course, one conceived by them or extracted from some other source, and directly apply it as a learning tool. Examples for a writing class might include everything from simple question and answer Jeopardy style games all the way to writing in an actual video game such as World of
Warcraft. These may work quite well for many instructors, while others lament that such games offer them little or that their students show a lack of engagement or even frustration towards such designs. Most of these game designs are top down, and the player will never have the opportunity to help in developing or tailoring play--it’s simply against the rules in most cases to change the way Jeopardy is played or to hack World of Warcraft’s coding. The initial design for the games and play used in this study keep methodology in mind, prompting the instructor to modify the game to meet student needs, and they offer students the ability to help shape play. For example, students may role-play scenarios, develop their own NPCs, or construct their own rhetorical levels (spaces) in both physical and digital realms. They are also invited to share artifacts, reflections, identify bugs, and make suggestions of their own play to continually help play and games become more relevant to the ways they learn.
Answering the question, “how can instructors use specific game-based strategies and tools to identify with their students, their curriculum, and themselves?” is complicated, perplexing, and one that branches many other questions for a number of scholars in the field.
One problem I foresee in this sort of work is that many scholars simply want to see the “thing,” the neatly packaged product that delivers the so-called goods. To this end, I defer to professional game developers who offer the conceptualization of what their game tries to do and how players
81 may interact with it before unveiling their “wrappers.” This is the purpose of installing the game design concepts here in a methodological sense. Even though my work centers on FYC, this question is still the proverbial juggernaut. As such, it must be grappled with over the course of the study--in a methodological sense, in the sense of findings, in the sense of detailed analysis and revision, and how such a question may move forward in the field of FYC. This is to hint that a detailed analysis of what such game designs look like and how they operate in comparison with their counterparts will come in subsequent chapters. For methods, it was important to describe how these designs take aim at this juggernaut.
Methodological Theories
This study is guided by activity theory, teacher research, and dynamic criteria mapping as methods to ground and better understand FYC course designs based on games and productive play. These methodologies were chosen for three specific reasons which work to provide connective tissue to the study. First, each of these methodologies are particularly useful for synthesizing social interaction as a means of data. They anticipate that the participants’ perceptions, attitudes, motivations, actions, and language are important and offer evidence.
Second, they allow the researcher to look at both large-scale and small-scale activities. This scale includes how these participants might operate as identities within a university, a class, a group activity, and as individuals. In other words, these participants aren’t confined identities in a sterile laboratory, but instead transfer knowledge and experiences into and outside of the “space” of the study. Finally, they fundamentally recognize the researcher as part of the research design process and often as a contributor or collaborator. For some time, objectivity meant deeply distancing the researcher from the subjects; however, these methodologies make a case for objectivity while working closely with participants. 82
Activity Theory
Activity Theory (AT) can be, in my estimation, a powerful tool for analyzing and working through complex problems or activities in play and in the writing classroom. AT recognizes human activity as historically and culturally mediated object-oriented endeavors that occur within a system containing rules, tools, community, and divisions of labor. Observing where motivations, difficulties, and tensions occur within the activity can potentially aid in both learning and teaching. More precisely, AT offers a special kind of tangible construct called an
“Activity System” that can be applied in a methodological way by allowing researchers to examine both the physical material objects and social contexts involved in how groups work to accomplish tasks. A brief history of AT is necessary to understand its mechanisms and purposes, but even with multiple iterations of AT, this study ultimately utilizes what is often referred to as
Fourth Generation Activity Theory (4GAT).
If we are to get a sense of why a fourth generation has plausibility as a methodological device for studying the modern classroom, a brief refresher on activity’s origins and how play intersects this theory becomes a valuable foregrounding.
In the 1920s, Lev Vygotsky began to form the basis for activity theory though entrenched work in the field of Psychology. He found scientific value in Marxism, applying his interpretation of social-cultural theory as a way to understand how people think, particularly through dialectical materialism. He held that “all phenomena be studied as processes in motion and change” (Vygotsky, 1981, p. 6). Specifically, Vygotsky became increasingly interested in human labor and the way humans use tools to accomplish tasks. Unlike animals, Vygotsky argued that humans intellectually use tools and sign systems to transform or even master an activity (p. 7). As a rudimentary example, a human could pick up a hammer (tool) and the 83 building plans for a doghouse (signs and symbols) and conceivably understand the materials, steps, and information on the plans to purposefully build the doghouse. The first doghouse might or might not be a masterpiece, but the mediation of the tools and signs manifested the builder’s objective. Certainly, the dog itself or the squirrel in the neighboring tree cannot use these tools and symbols as the human does, and therein fulfills Vygotsky’s notion that not only physiology, but also human learning and social contexts such as language and behavior can be understood through activity.
Equally important, Vygotsky created a split from others in his field, such as Piaget, by proposing that objects are not simply materials, but also culturally significant in helping us understand the way humans think (Engestrom, XIV). This “mediation” process essentially consists of a mediated activity in conjunction with a sign and a tool (p. 54). Success seemingly occurs through the proper mediation of the actor and environment towards the object. Vygotsky takes this a step further in exploring education by describing how activity can lead to a Zone of
Proximal Development (ZPD). He defines this by stating, “It is the distance between the actual developmental level as determined by independent problem solving and the level of potential development as determined through problem solving under adult guidance or in collaboration with more capable peers (p. 86). Activity, through this lens, not only aids in problem solving, but may help the subject solve even more complex problems. Referencing the doghouse example once more to ground Vygotsky’s concept of ZPD, the person who built the doghouse may have made two or more attempts frame the structure and then asked for help from a friend skilled in carpentry to get the correct roof pitch. With regards to countering Piaget’s objects as simple materials, Vygotsky might say the builder chose to make the doghouse from repurposed wood because of the builder’s consciousness towards the environment, and perhaps the doghouse was 84 intentionally painted orange because the homeowner’s association social contracts require all structures to use orange. Such examples are not meant to defend Vygotsky from other theorists of his day so much as they are to underscore his larger point that human activity is bounded by social constructs. These same elements exist as activity in good learning and good play, a connection Vygotsky himself clearly noted.
Vygotsky’s chapter (1981), “Action and Meaning in Play” links the value of focusing on activity processes in play as a means of learning. Aside from Vygotsky’s status as the “Mozart of
Psychology” and the father of sociocultural theory within the Phycology and Education field, perhaps no one may add a greater call for activity-based play than his conclusion, “a child’s greatest achievements are possible in play, achievements that tomorrow will become her basic level of real action and morality” (p. 100). In this concise statement, Vygotsky could not have more clearly spoken to many modern universities’ call for goal-oriented, high achieving students who are also moral civic and community leaders, and he so happens to explicitly assert play as a choice mechanism accomplishing such goals. Vygotsky’s model demonstrates how to observe a subject moving towards an outcome through the mediation of tools. But, such an observation also calls forth questions of how First-Generation Activity can be understood through the scope of games and writing.
Moving towards a fourth generation. Methodologically, First Generation Activity
(Figure 9) provides the researcher a way to focus on the mediation of tool and signs to achieve an outcome. In a crossword puzzle, the researcher may gather data from the way the player uses the pen, puzzle grid, and clues to reach the complete puzzle. The crossword puzzle player will often have to access cultural cues in the clues and consider a variety of lexis considerations within that culture to find the correct word. In a more advanced example, the researcher may 85 gain information about how an XCOM player uses the hardware and software with its many menus and prompts to move a character towards an intended space. Certainly, the focus on tools seems linear in nature, but Vygotsky’s notion of social and cultural underpinnings still exist, as players must utilize language such as narration or in-game text, signs such as highlighted spaces for movement, and symbols that must be clicked to dictate what the character will do. After some number of levels, the player will likely become more knowledgeable about these tools; further, those who have played games similar to XCOM may enter the game with some idea how to use the tools based on transferred experience. Teachers, particularly in elementary schools, have long used crossword puzzles, Mad Lib-type games, and a myriad of digital writing games in their curriculum. Albeit what some call “drill and kill” in nature, teachers could gather data as to whether repeated usage of these tools increases proficiency towards specific outcomes.
Figure 9. First Generation Activity Theory. From Engestrom’s (1999) outline of three generations of activity theory.
Although first generation activity theory offers a constructive premise to observe an individual’s mediation of an activity, it didn’t consider the motive for such activity and the ways in which the subject understands the activity. A colleague and understudy of Vygotsky, Aleksei Leontiev
(1974) continued to develop AT and moved to answer this important question by proposing a 86 model that shifts attention from mediation and tooling objects to the objective, and more specifically how the object becomes a sense maker for the activity (Figure 10). Leontiev also added “rules,” “community,” and “division of labor” as ways the subjects understand how they accomplish goals. Often, such introspection leads the subjects to consider if the rules, tools, and division of labor can also be improved, often in such a way that will further progress towards the goal. For example, the XCOM player might learn to mediate the physical (key/button) and digital
(movement pattern) tools necessary to effectively move their character to a square as their objective; however, using Leontiev’s second generation activity theory, the player might observe the effects of that outcome and then evaluate how they may improve on current or future outcomes by better understanding the rules, tools, community, and division of labor involved.
Questions such as where will the game allow me to move and what terrain gives me an advantage (rules), how do team members’ equipment and the blinking squares help me (tools and symbols), what troops do I have available and how can they support my objective (community), and what order do I move my troops and arrange my actions (division of labors) all play a role in becoming better at achieving the goal of the activity. In many ways, the difference between
Chavez becoming an alien’s dinner and her turning the tide towards victory demonstrates the difference between Vygotsky’s focus on mediating tools towards an outcome (moving) to
Leontiev’s focus of considering outcomes as sense-makers for understanding how activity influences progression towards such goals (creating ideal conditions so that it makes sense to move Chavez in a way that the outcome is successful).
In the way of methods, second generation activity theory makes some sense as an application. The teacher researcher can offer more complex problem-based games such as Peter
Pappas’ “Bank Robbery” or “a Murder Mystery” game where students are given limited 87 information and must communicate with one another to take actions in solving a make-believe crime. Success or failure is irrelevant to the activity theorist; they are more concerned with the questions that follow the activity, those that ask students to reflect upon what happened during play and how they might become more efficient the next time based on the given rules, tools, labors, and community. The resultant discussion may lead into a conversation about how such questions, observations, and experiences may work as transfer towards writing about something such as one’s discourse community, a typical writing project in BGSU’s GSW 1110 courses.
Such data can be extrapolated via teacher-student interaction and compliment tools such as surveys the students may later take. The figure below offers a glance as second-generation activity.
Figure 10. Screen Shot of Second Generation Activity Theory. From Engestrom’s (1999) outline of three generations of activity theory.
Even though second-generation activity theory offers much more metacognitive affordances, it is not the most appropriate model for the research endeavor the study undertakes.
Second generation activity theory assumes the agent(s) are aligned towards an object within the environment. Modern gamers, teachers, and activity theorists must consider the subject, 88 especially in a group, will not share the same thought processes, access, and goals in a precise manner that makes this version of activity ideal. As students are not hive-minded, and rightly so, even minor tensions in activity may quickly deteriorate second generation activity via multiple binds that prevent progressive and unilateral sense-making of the outcome. Acknowledgement of such tensions is in fact what led Engestrom to propose a third-generation activity theory. Third
Generation Activity Theory (3GAT) recognizes the social nature of activity as both joined and in conflict at the same time (Figure 11). When observing two or more individuals trying to accomplish a goal, it may become evident that the sense-making objects both overlap and still have differences, that the rules, artifacts, communities, and labors may differ from person to person.
In my Arkham Horror example, the players tried to stop the “Great Old One” from escaping as a shared objective, but each of us had our own agendas along the way. Sometimes they aligned and sometimes not, and we each took the path towards our individual and collective goals through our own discreet activities. In many ways, this game promotes a simple overarching goal to save the world as a team, but then it preys on individual decision-making to win, and win it often does. The game might just be cardboard, but it is a bit devious in its promise to derail what might seem like a simple task with so many tedious conflicts that lead to dismal Object 3’s (see figure below). It does this by slowly inserting dilemma, conflict, and seemingly hopeless paradoxes. In many ways, the game allots for Engestrom and Sannio’s
(2011) four types of discursive manifestations of contradictions, which consist of dilemma, conflict, critical conflict, and double blinds. And however much Arkham Horror lives up to its titular relevance as a frighteningly difficult endeavor, it is at the same time a wonderful example 89 of decision making through binds in activity. The figure below demonstrates Engstrom’s model.
Figure 11. Screen Shot of Third Generation Activity Theory: From Engestrom’s (1999) outline of three generations of activity theory. Although the work taking place in our writing courses won’t likely port in Cthulhu or plunge us into Lovecraftian states of madness, it may present similar affordances and limitations of 3GAT. In terms of the writing classroom, Bazerman and Prior’s What Writing Does and How it Does It discusses a system of genres encountered in complex activity systems such as school, a lead in to the many applications involved in a writing course (p. 319). Here, we begin to shift from a holistic evolution of activity theory as Engestrom laid out for many disciplines into the needs of our writing courses. Bazerman and Prior drew attention to the many genres in a writing course such as speech acts, writing, and how students (and instructors) work with different course materials such as quizzes, assignments types, presentations, and a number of other genres within writing courses. Through this system of genres, 3GAT Bazerman and Prior situate activity theory directly into the writing class, a space Russell further contextualizes. Russell (1995) claims “I have argued that people learn (and know and work) with writing, as an immensely flexible tool, in many activity systems; and that people learn to write most effectively by 90 participating in activity systems that use writing” (p. 12). For an FYC course, this might mean collaborative work aimed at some real or created exigency-particularly a scenario in a GBL course.
Russell’s (2009) “Activity Theory and its Implication for Writing Instruction” carries activity theory forward in several directions, two of which I believe will be necessary in building momentum for 4GAT. First, Russell declares, “Literacy is always and everywhere bound up with the activity systems that it changes through its mediation of behavior—and which change it, for writing is an immensely protean tool that activity systems are always and everywhere changing to meet their needs” (p. 8). For Russell, people don’t simply learn to write. They experience writing and acquire tacit knowledge of genre through activity. This also teases out Russell’s point about activity’s need to adapt. Since CHAT’s inception, the experiences of writing students and writing classrooms have changed in both genre and experience. A simple observation how students in BGSU’s writing courses use Canvas’ discussion boards, WebEx, or even how they organize digital and print files reveal Russell’s point about experience evolving literacies. Also, consider multimodal projects. When asking the question, “is multimodal composition writing?” or even “what is multimodal composition?”, the asker is now bound to address Russell’s point about writing as an “immensely protean tool” (p. 8), and if we answer in the affirmative to
Russell, then the door is open to consider the plausibility of something like 4GAT. Secondly,
Russell places activity as serving Writing Across the Curriculum (WAC), collaboration that inevitably must find working continuity among people and genres which do not always organically align.
In working to position activity in specific sectors of writing such as First Year
Composition (FYC) and WAC, Downs and Wardle’s Teaching About Writing, Right 91
Misconceptions: (Re)Envision ‘First Year Composition’ as ‘Introduction to Writing Studies emphasizes,
Students are taught that writing is conventional and context-specific rather than
governed by universal rules--thus they learn that within each new disciplinary
course they will need to pay close attention to what counts as appropriate for that
discourse community. (p. 559)
This statement is important because it speaks to specific communities and how they write must learn to write in a discrete activity system. Downs and Wardle’s Writing about Writing: A
College Reader (2017) has now seen its third edition and continues to focus on activity theory as a valid way to analyze writing (p. 426-437). Wardle (2017) draws upon Russell’s argument for the “importance of the relationship between writing and identity…” (410) and ties the importance of identity and genre to both functioning activity systems and the difficulties that occur when someone enters a new or unfamiliar activity system (p. 409). The culmination of the
Russell and Wardle’s arguments for situated studies of writing through activity systems supports cause to methodologically examine course design through activity theory. Indeed, Writing about
Writing (2007) uses 3GAT as a way to methodologically understand groups and their writing.
But if 3GAT has established itself as a plausible and current method for examining writing, some may see the argument for a Fourth Generation Activity Theory (4GAT) as superfluous.
Although 3GAT presents some fascinating observations about writing and carries the ethos of many notable scholars, it finds itself in a vice of sorts, levered by evolutions in the very subject and objective classifications that once anchored it in place. 3GAT and its corresponding model emerged in 1987, and a number of scholars might agree that much has changed in education and writing classrooms in those 31 years. In fact, Engstrom (2016) states, 92
The third line that I see emerging in research in activity theory is how to make this theory
responsive and relevant for the new emerging phenomena in this world. And this is
indeed related to research on learning in social movements, but also more broadly the big
challenge is what the fourth generation might look like in the coming years. (p. 93)
Certainly, Engestrom and many other activity theorists acknowledge the emergence of the
Internet, expanded means of social connectivity, working networks, and the ability for varying forms of agency in these many spaces require an evolved form of activity. Therein, comes the vice metaphor. 3GAT was not built to acknowledge the many identities a single actor may have in both real and digital spaces that overlap multiple activity systems. The actor may be a writing student, an avatar in social or game spaces, a blogger, a logged in employee, and much more all at the same time.
Consequently, the subject(s) may be operating in multiple activity networks and have varying roles depending on the technology utilized and work undertaken. The issue revolving around this notion of subject and network becomes even more tedious and critical for 3GAT in terms of the object. As Spinuzzi (2011) explains, “Empirically, the object is what defines the activity system, what bounds the case intelligently so that we can make statements about the activity that cyclically achieves this object” (p. 450). Contradictions and networks of activity may lead to what Engenstrom calls a “runaway object,” an object that can become too expansive to be contained and used as a discreet sense maker for members. In 3GAT, activity can expand to a point where the object no longer becomes a true object. For example, a common runaway object might be to “become a better writer,” “develop rhetorical skills,” or to “collaborate.”
Problematically, these leave the realm of a discreet objective and exist as activities unto themselves--they are not truly objects but rather ideas or concepts that inevitably create their own 93 activity system. For example, we may gather a group of writing teachers or students into an activity system and ask them to state their objective. Under 3GAT, an acceptable “object” might be “to become a better writer,” “gain scholarly or civic involvement,” or achieve “personal development”; however, this fundamentally fails under cross-examination because each of these are “objectives” not “objects,” and objectives generally entail processes that entail their own discreet activity systems.
Some 3GAT practitioners might simply acknowledge this snafu as a limitation or they may perhaps suggest a particular object such as the writing class as the discreet object. In either case, the jaws of the vice continue to put the squeeze on 3GAT. On the one front, mounting limitations only seem to provoke the need for a fourth generation of activity. On the other front, the object of something such as a writing class falters under 3GAT because the subjects involved in the activity exist as a larger system than the model allows and may define the same object quite differently. For example, the object of the writing class for the teacher may be to successfully produce a certain number of artifacts that meet a specific criterion. The goal of administrators may see that same object as a numbers game of seats to cycle inexperienced writers in and experienced writers out. The student may see the object as a series of mandatory artifacts to improve their writing at best, or at worst, as a requirement to keep financial aid or enrollment requirements.
Of course, the argument then shifts to the idea that writing classes are more than just the material object, and in that same breath the rug is pulled out from underneath 3GAT, as its original purpose was to consider unified production-based subjects working towards producing a specific material object. Spinuzzi (2011) explains, “objects are no longer closely bounded or material, are much bigger than the materials in which they are instantiated, are multiperspectival, 94 and are the nexus of many different activities” (p. 453). This is not to say 3GAT is a poor analytical device by any means, but it may not be the best tool for observing course designs in a writing class with multiperspective students and expansive objects. Instead, this study moves towards using 4GAT as a primary apparatus.
Utilizing 4GAT serves as an appropriate sense-maker for understanding course design in the sorts of knowledge work FYC courses undertakes. 4GAT observes activity as a network of activities, sometimes loosely connected, sometimes tangentially connected in certain spheres, sometimes overlapping, and sometimes chained together (Figure 12). The image below demonstrates a 4GAT model.
Figure 12. An activity network from Spinuzzi's "Losing by Expanding."
This model may help open opportunities for observation by recognizing that subjects can either actively connect with other activity systems (A and D, for example) or becomes part of multiple activities (B and D; E and F, for example). Such connections also become valuable components for solving some of the object problems occurring in previous generations of activity theory. 95
Objects in 4GAT can certainly work towards discreet materials, but they can also fix the activity as knowledge production across its rules, artifacts, community, labor, and objects.
Activity systems that can function in this way may more optimally analyze collaborative work from multiple perspectives and tend allow for a specific or several objects as useful for each activity in the network without runaway or crashing the activity. Skeptics may naturally point to
“knowledge” as a peculiar and perhaps overly robust concept to consider a “sense-maker” that activity needs; further, some might wonder if 4GAT’s knotting of knowledge as the object directly conflicts with the previous criticism that activities themselves cannot function as true objects. 4GAT offers a two-fold remedy for both concerns and necessarily leads into building out an activity for this study.
Because 4GAT operates as a multi-dimensional network, activities may connect with each other at varying and multiple points to mediate towards knowledge. For instance, figure 4 shows C’s outcome supporting D’s artifacts (or vice-versa), G’s rules relate to F’s artifacts, E and F’s activities overlap. Spinuzzi (2011) discusses how such activity relates to office work in a company where various departments may interconnect their activities towards overall objectives.
In a business, for example, a goal might be to improve timesheets so that employees, administrators, and logistics departments become more efficient. The logistics department may set as their objective a piece of software that uses ID badges rather than pencil and paper; that software will now become a rule in the employees’ activity; the data that comes from the software and the punching in will become an artifact for administration to study; John Doe is both management and an employee of the logistics department (multiperspective) so he wears multiple identities in multiple activities. At the monthly meeting where all employees meet, the company discusses how the software is working and what needs improvement. We can see 96 multiple linkages of the 4GAT diagram, and at the same time, we may also see how knotting together knowledge from these networks more clearly defines knowledge as an object, or that vital “sense-maker” activity needs. In a FYC example, the object might be to create a rhetorical analysis. As a class we might discuss and bound the criteria necessary to produce an acceptable project. This might, as a specific example, focus on logos, pathos, ethos, and contextual or environmental rhetoric. We have all agreed and worked through bounding, and perhaps re- bounding, this criterion as elements of a focused object. The discussions, readings, activities, discussion boards, and all of the connective nodes of each student might now work towards a connective network of activity systems aimed at meeting those specifically defined criteria.
A writing class may draw on these same networked activities through productive play.
The teacher may have given the students an assignment about writing in their discourse community as a project. At first, many students may find this concept confusing. Although instructions and articles exist for the whole class, the students may feel isolated as individuals who have to work out what a discourse community means to them and what it might mean to the teacher. There may exist a number of ways to reduce such conflation, but a teacher could create a game similar to Spinuzzi’s office studies where students take on roles of departments that have both independent and collaborative tasks. The teacher may help situate such activity via foregrounding the game’s “wrapper,” perhaps a narrative world that builds the simulated company and places the task (object/problem) within a timeframe during which certain policy has to be hashed out. Along the way, the instruction may assume the role of a consultant who poses John Swales’ aspects of a discourse community and how they fall within the writing of the departments. In this same way, 4GAT networking linkages occur and knowledge knotting takes 97 place in a similar way to those that Spinuzzi saw in an actual office setting. Additionally, the teacher researcher is able to observe levels of activity taking place.
The second problem 4GAT must work towards solving in order to become applicable for this study revolves around objects as activities themselves or runaway objects. If the argument for 4GAT as inclusively considering multiple activities as a network of linkages and knowledge- knotting suffices, then a cursory glance at the 3GAT and 4GAT model may lead some to believe excessive expansion and runaway objects become inevitable. Spinuzzi (2011) offers a remedy useful this study in the form of strategical countermovements. These include the following processes described below:
1. Provisionally bound the case: “identify representational objects that participants
recognize as the organization’s business.”
2. Identify a common representational object (text) within these bounds: “identify one or
more objects phenomenologically, based on statements and actions of the
participants. They do not have to see the objects the same way, but they do need to
agree on some basic characteristics of the object.”
3. Identify Outcomes (qualifiers): “identify how participants agree on the
representational object they are working to produce or define.” Spinuzzi also adds
that participants may see the same object differently and identify alternative or even
conflicting outcomes. He refers to this issue as “fragmentation” and considers it
valuable for reaching multiplicity, arguing that these conflicts actually create
contraction rather than expansion because the successful object must adhere to these
qualifiers. 98
4. Rebound the case: “use observable, verifiable data to redraw the boundaries around
the activity, defining the activity in terms of the object, as 3GAT suggests. But in
doing so, we keep the object tightly qualified.”
5. Describe the activity: “conceive the activity as a collaborative, multiperspectival,
often multidisciplinary attempt to achieve an object that meets certain outcomes--that
is, to make the claim within the given qualifications” (p. 459-460).
The 4GAT model under these considerations may make for a valid approach to game-based learning course design, as both education and games have been examined through such methods.
Inspections into video games via activity theory have uncovered possibilities for writing course design in the classroom. Sherlock (2009) engaged in a study of World of Warcraft (WoW) that drew upon activity theory and genre theory to observe how players operate as working groups. He strikes the bullseye in connecting games, activity, and writing in his observation,
“whatever the particular role of gaming in global collaborative work may be or become, one of the broader roles of activity theory is to start documenting how writing and information design in electronic environments change the agencies of individual writers along with the work patterns and objectives of organizations” (p. 270). As a research methodology, this study takes aim and splits Sherlock’s already well-placed arrow by asserting principles of good play crafted into writing course design may concisely zoom the reticle from the broad role of activity to the narrow realm of patterns and objectives of an FYC site. For students, this means designs that angle activity systems towards projects, and for teachers, activity systems that tie projects to learning outcomes. 99
Teacher Research
Much of the designs around play and active learning in the classroom involve participatory mechanisms that work towards specific goals, and it only makes methodological sense that such interactions involve the teacher. In games, “teachers” come in many forms, but few who involve themselves in the play may ever so boldly use such a term. Sometimes they will call themselves gamemasters, moderators, guild leaders/presidents, captains, or a myriad of other titles to signify leadership roles. It becomes clear these roles effectively position themselves as having expertise they pass on to others with specific goals and outcomes in mind. Much of the time, this teaching aids the other players in becoming productive at one or more tasks. Gamers may refrain from using the word “teacher” because it can carry connotations where one member assumes to have significant knowledge and rest serve as understudies, or they may have long accepted that leaders carry the dual role of embedded teacher and learner at the same time. Such an observation may move many teachers to fiercely respond by acknowledging they too learn from their students as much as they teach and that collaborative, inquisitive teaching has existed at least since the time of Socrates; moreover, they may argue their teaching has become better from such a practice. This dissertation agrees with such teachers and therein posits the partnership between play and collaborative teaching can be better analyzed through teacher research.
According to Lankshear and Knobel (2006) Teacher Research: From Design to
Implementation, the teacher makes observations as an active, participating member of the classroom. The practice of teacher research requires both embedded interaction with course materials and students, but also a distancing to make note of how designs and practices operate.
For a course designer interested in play, the teacher takes on several roles including participant, 100 mentor, and referee. Strict observation may offer some valuable knowledge, but interacting and experience will likely yield better results because asserting course design cannot fairly exclude the teacher any more than the students themselves.
Appropriately, there exists a healthy skepticism about what exactly constitutes teacher research and about potential bias when placing the research in contact with the participants.
Indeed, many researchers prefer controlled laboratories and greatly distancing themselves from their subjects in order to obtain valid data. For those who strictly adhere to such philosophies, the teacher researcher seems to have unwittingly unleashed the research equivalent of the hydra. For every perspective of what teacher research actually is, two more appear. For every way bias control appears, two more possible biases seem to spring forth, and so on. In the same way
Hercules called upon Lolas to seal off new heads from re-growing, this study will seal off teacher research by defining what it means for this site-specific study, what this methodology means to this teacher researcher, and how to acknowledge bias within the realm of this study. To some degree, Fishman and McCarthy (2000) offer such contradictions among teacher research.
Both used data such as observations, class documents, and student texts, but Fishman took a teacher-centered approach and McCarthy took a student-centered approach when analyzing data
(pp. 90-92). Still, both researchers held some key protocols with regards to data. They offer “we understood student writing as shaped by and, at the same time, shaping the ways of knowing and speaking in the classroom. Further, we viewed students' and teacher's writing for each other as a cooperative endeavoring in which meaning is negotiated socially to reach a mutually defined goal” (Fishman and McCarthy, 2000, p. 95). Thus, it becomes important for this study to note the student always remains a key co-producer, whether observing a teacher-initiated or student- initiated process or product. 101
This study posits teacher research by considering students/subjects as complex humans who yield qualitative data, and that the spaces, relationships, and activities of the classroom are better observed as organic in nature. Because traditional laboratory-based research models like those used in natural and social sciences remain hardwired in many researcher’s minds, it may do well to preemptively acknowledge why many of those methods cannot sufficiently prevail in this study. This diagnosis in no way attempts to place a collateral attack on the tremendous value laboratory-based methods can offer to a number of studies; it simply asserts reasons as to why such methods do not work as well for this study and paves way for the value teacher research can bring.
Similar to the way Hercules relied upon Lolas, popular methods include random selection, stratified selection, purposive selection, and convenience sampling (p. 149). These approaches may present data, but they also exclude a number of valuable considerations for this study. Random selection across multiple writing classrooms might acquire a broad spectrum of results, but such results may also paint the students as a number of sorts, and the researcher likely has little evidence as to the many classroom cultures, experiences, and day- to- day pedagogies that influence responses. Clumping all respondents together as a representative sample of a typified BGSU classroom may not truly be possible, nor may it fairly honor designs of our teacher colleagues.
Stratified random sampling offers some value in terms of creating categories of interest to the researcher and may be valuable for the teacher researcher’s course(s); however, broad distribution outside of the classroom still presents several unwieldy heads to our hydra. For instance, identifying with games and play in this study may mean something quite different to those outside of a class that uses them in the way this study does. Other courses may also use 102 different activities or projects that undercut the effectiveness of even asking how play contributes to the subject’s processes. For instance, the “Mystery” game used in this study’s GSW 1100 course has a specific connection to the students’ overall understanding of the work they did for the Discourse Community Project in this specific class, but another class will likely have a different takeaway even if the same project is employed. This is because each class has a culture, and way of experiencing the project that is inclusive of each student’s identity and contributions.
Purposive sampling requires the researcher to hand pick participants, which loses value for this project since it assumes the teacher cannot handpick the students who will engage in these sorts of course designs. Convenience samples also do not work well for similar reasons to random sampling, and it may even carry greater challenges, as results could come from only those interested in the concept of the study or those who may have long left the realm of FYC and simply want to participate. Moving away from such laboratory type practices may intuitively seal off many of the problematic heads mentioned associated with this site-specific study.
The onus to effectively move away from a traditional laboratory practices to teacher research requires some key bounding definitions for this study. Research certainly takes place in the classroom and among students; however, it also takes place in “investigating historical, anthropological, sociological or psychological studies and theoretical work conducted in other places and/or at other times” (Lankshear and Knobel, 2004, p. 7). Teachers gain knowledge about their profession in many spaces that filter into the classroom and are distilled out by experience with students. As such, this study respectfully rejects a “lecture and leave” or a “read and regurgitate” strategy where students presumably act as empty vessels or just human information recorders. Instead, students have agency to operate as co-collaborators in the sense that they experience activities, test designs through their decisions, and offer reflection. They 103 also have the opportunity to augment designs via role play, suggestions, and creating NPCs, rhetorical situations, or other simulative experiences. A more prolific example of such practices come from teachers such as Michael Wesch, who has produced semester long games such as
“Falling Up” and “The World Game” that requires students to use course objectives and assignments via simulation. The following clips demonstrate some of Wesch’s games at work:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gF2kFPNZChc
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BFuluIy-5QY&t=62s
This study doesn’t attempt to perfectly mimic Wesch or draw direct comparisons to his work; the point is that these videos example a highly decorated teacher engaging in collaborative co- designs with students, designs based on his research and refined through interreacting with students to gather information that betters his practice. Welch’s work does give this research some connective tissue to position teacher research as grounded in sound methodology and play.
Through this lens, the object isn’t to convince students about the perceived virtues of play, but rather to work together to collectively create a better learning experience through play. This is the work of game designers/testers, innovative professional communities, and consequently, game-based teachers.
Dynamic Criteria Mapping and Coding
Dynamic Criteria Mapping (DCM) serves as the third lens by which this study hopes methodologically understand activity and the immersive technologies of play. DCM was introduced in Bob Broad’s (2003) What we Really Value: Beyond Rubrics in Teaching and
Assessing Writing as a way to understand and categorically map what writing programs, and students in the case of Classroom DCM, really value in writing. DCM becomes a valuable 104 partner for the Game-Based teacher because design work often requires a co-collaborative nature with the curriculum, teacher’s style, and the students’ experiences working with activities and projects. In terms of this research, DCM allows three targeted criteria works lockstep with the way games and learning have been laid out. First, the immersive designs offered are situated by site and procedure. Second, developers often utilize collaborative design rather than rubrics for success. Third, the game, or course design in this case, improves by understanding procedural designs and the student/collaborator/player’s expectations of the design. In these ways, DCM becomes an important method of assessing content and for framing this work in contexts that may exclude or go beyond more classical rubric-based writing designs.
Immersive Designs by Site and Procedure. The usefulness for this site-specific design and relayability meet Broad’s (2009) titular reference to a “locally grown” writing assessment.
Broad’s (2009) Organic Writing Assessment: Dynamic Criteria Mapping in Action adds,
“despite the significant benefits of traditional rubrics, they are too simple and too generic to effectively portray the educational values of any specific classroom, department, or program (p.
4). In many ways, this becomes the catalyst to move an innovate project such as this away from
1960s positivists mindsets of holistic rubrics to one that considers the culture of the place and its students as interactive participants. With Game-Based Learning (GBL) and activity as fixtures,
DCM provides a method to check how these systems either add or diminish value, and they also provide qualitative and quantitative evidence about how procedures are interpreted. A game developer in the beta testing stage or with a focus group might interpret this sort of DCM as comparing what players and the development team value based on feedback of experience and outcome, then study the results to determine if the coding reinforced those procedures in a positive way. Similarly, a teacher might have students analyze their experience and outcome via 105 comments and feedback to determine what the project or course values. The game developer and teacher, sometimes one in the same for GBL, may then consider how to better their coding.
Thinking about GBL writing activities or courses as codes may seem odd at first glance, but it makes sense when utilizing immersive information technologies and procedural rhetoric.
Broad’s (2003) categorical mapping of DCM textually and contextually moves some of the vagueness of say a GBL design using a five or six-point rubric to a dynamic and complex map of how both instructors and students will or might approach the activity. In my mind, the mapping
DCM provides may offer a set of instructions, much like feedback from a beta test group, that will help us as teachers code procedures. Immersive technologies, perhaps more easily understood as analog or digital tools that work to blur the simulative and “real” world via human engagement, benefit from understanding such mapped values by trying to link content with buy- in. Moreover, such DCM maps may assist the GBL teacher in creating more meaningful procedural maps that will eventually lead to procedural designs. And if the lamenting over Major
Chavez has not already connected with previous examples, her untimely passing will certainly not have been in vain here, as it evidences key notions about valuing procedural design in this type of learning.
If we think of course activities as goal-oriented learning endeavors, we might consider what pathways students may take to reach the goal and through what means will keep them in pursuit of said goal. In 2016, XCOM 2 was nominated for both Game of the Year and Best
Strategy Game of the Year, perhaps a tribute the development team’s heavy emphasis on procedure play. In the following video, XCOM 2 designers, Deangels and Nauta describe what they call “Procedural Generation” in the first four minutes. Having distilled concepts such as productive play, procedural rhetoric, activity and criteria maps may have rhetorically minded 106 teachers noticing striking similarities, or even possibilities, for the connection between games and the types of course designs discussed in this study.
As a methodological checklist of sorts, the viewer may parallel DCM thinking through the way designers learned to better their work over the franchise (time and testing), through commentary with others, utilizing feedback systems (strike team), and recomposing “seamless” procedures. It may also be noteworthy to parallel terms such as “handcrafted” with
“homegrown” and “site-specific” as ways designers anchor this kind of work within complex layers of specific criteria--a hint towards those who might ask how a GBL course designer might implement play amidst complex institutional and departmental layers. Additionally, the criteria describes level (game space) procedures as ludus, but the designers offer a sort of randomness with regards to the player or players agency to create new, paidia-like opportunities. In this respect, the activity has a solid framework, but the players (students) are not simply railroaded through the experience. For example, a GBL activity might consider a project and course outcome as tied to some course related play, but the student working through the scenario might choose a number of paths to get to the desired goal; further, the student might offer an interesting evaluation about what they believe the scenario valued.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pQihl9xTe2c
The XCOM series immensely challenges players, but it also incrementally teaches them how to become better tacticians. Had I the emotional control, the procedural know how, or a way to map the learning values of the game back then, Major Chavez may have worked towards the goal by process rather than trying force an expeditious result. 107
Developers and collaborative designs. Methodologically, this study can employ classroom DCM to get at the co-designer, collaborative philosophies this study invites by asking students to actively engage in evaluating values and processes of designs. Certainly, some researchers of the more classical mindset may caution such interaction could lead to skewed data. Particularly, some may correctly wonder if the teacher’s institutional power may skew results through directly querying students in DCM data collection or focus group-like settings.
Broad (2003) counters such assertions head on by noting:
Near the end of the course, instructors should ask their students to gather data (handouts,
responses to writing, comments made in class) that answer the question: “What does this
instructor (who wields the institutional power of the course grade) value in your work?”
Students in this model are taken as more authoritative sources for answering this question
than the instructor because students hold more data on what the instructor really values as
to what the instructor thinks she [or he] values. (p. 136)
Such an endeavor as classroom DCM allows the students to offer what they believe constitutes the key criteria of course material. The data offered become important information for better development of course design, and consequently, productive play.
Understandings and expectations. Some teachers may have a difficult time framing or conceptualizing classroom DCM if they believe students may lie to protect themselves or please the instructor, so getting beyond this state of mind requires some key understandings and expectations from the parties involved. Before laying out such approaches, it is important to frame the boundaries of this discussion as it operates in this study because it can become easy to venture off track and into a sticky quagmire of pedagogical viewpoints. Certainly, some teachers have become set on a top down approach to teaching where their students come to understand 108 their position as subordinates. Alternatively, some teachers make no mention about where they place their power in classroom. Other classrooms take more liberal approaches. Investigating how DCM might work in relation to each teacher’s pedagogical view of classroom dynamics presents a fine site-specific research opportunity to relay experiences, and this study encourages those with such questions to launch into such fruitful research of their own. The courses in this study have built a culture early on where students understand that they play an active role in making decisions and offering feedback that might better their classroom experience.
Institutional policies and a commitment to rigor remain non-negotiable, often because of state, university, departmental mandates, and a need to scaffold skill from a course such as GSW
1110 to GSW 1120, but the ability to vote on workshop days, explore topics they value, choose roles in class activities, add input on developing peer review that fits their needs, providing course activity feedback, and offer suggestions to improve the day to day class practices all work to build community culture. For DCM, this sort of culture-building helps because it sets a precedent that encourages honesty and engagement when students are asked to provide what they value. Such trust is earned over time where they learn through experience and many classroom conversations. Reflection also serves as a positive activity where students become familiar with observing what they value and what change may positively afford. Classroom DCM warrants reflection as a collective voice of the community, a situation where the expectation of the endeavor is to collectively grow and even empathetically pay the experiences forward for future classes.
Through DCM, the researcher gains constant comparative analysis, negative case analysis, and theoretical sensitivity in similar ways as grounded theory. This process develops categories and sub-categories as a way to gather diverse data. In this study, DCM particularly 109 invests in the diversity of these categories by developing categories as research, but also by emerging categories by those who collaborate in criteria mapping. As developers and designers analyze areas of relation, they may also notice disconnects or unforeseen instances that allow for theory and practice to further develop. DCM allots for this sort of negative case analysis.
Additionally, DCM encourages the researcher to interact with the data--to view it as continually understanding what is valued and elaborate on data. In these ways, DCM encourages collaborative understandings of data, and in this case, more specifically considers how DCM elaborates on grounded theory in the way a game designer might.
Limitations
This study makes every attempt to utilize the noted methods in the best way possible to explore principles of play, activity, and course design; however, a number of limitations naturally exist. Some of these have been addressed in their appropriate sections already; however, recognizing some of overall limitations in this study may help other researchers in developing their own relayable studies, making site-specific decisions, or in serving as an opportunity to further explore foundational and institutional obstacles in researching or developing modes of play in their curriculum.
Above all, site specific work at a university must acknowledge its spaces, people, and culture as situated, yet always experiencing fluctuations. Every university has its own infrastructure, overall values, and sets of mandates; however, the students, classrooms, and even curricular needs may change from semester to semester. This acknowledges our academic institutions as having unique characteristics that may not directly transfer to every other university, classroom, or teacher. 110
First, BGSU allows for themed courses that instructors may use to frame the general content of the course. This study utilizes productive play as a means to better understand the self, community, and professional work. Although GSW 1110 is a mandatory FYC course and none of the projects were changed for this course, students were notified via a welcome letter that they had enrolled in a themed course before the semester began. I find this frontloading of any themed course as necessary so that students understand the context of the course and can make other arrangements or ask questions if they have strong feelings against any particular theme.
Second, this study clearly operates and advocates for site-specific studies examining First-
Year Composition. The methods offered give the researcher a close and observable way to work with designs and gather data as a scholar and game designer might at any site. Nonetheless, the results will likely not yield one universal philosophy and tool as the pragmatic instrument of choice for everyone. As such, this study holds a specific framing to its site and holds its position as a relayable mode of inquiry. Those with questions or concerns about how to copy and paste this study to their own curriculum may struggle to visualize this sort of retrofitting. Although a limitation, this study encourages using activity theory, teacher research, and DCM as a methodological basis for conducting a site analysis to determine the types of play that work best for the teacher and institution.
This study captures one point in time and relies on the technological affordances and limitations of the researcher. For as much and for as long as play has been used in educational settings, the games, technologies, and aims of play evolve. The play used in this study meets the curriculum I saw fit for the site in question and relied upon the technological knowledge I possess.
Some teachers will have more or less teaching experience. Some teachers will know more or less about various hardware, software, and analog or digital technologies. This may discourage some 111 teachers or researchers who may become too singularly focused on high-tech tools or gamification; however, I believe the principles of play along with the methodological approach utilized in this study will encourage a human-first approach that may also draw in co-collaborators, GBL designs, and various digital and non-digital modalities.
Conclusion
As a teacher, researcher, and designer, conducting research regarding course design intrinsically requires methods that consider both fixed learning goals and dynamic processes. In my own experiences, such as those described in XCOM and Arkham Horror, it become evident that productive play towards solving ill-defined problems involved much more than headlong approaches or linear modes of thought. The designers of the games mentioned anticipated a particular set of processes and activities to reach the goals, though experience from completing them also reveals they also anticipated variables for how players might collaborate to experience these processes as learned and teachable moments. Interestingly, such teachable moments move the student and player to consider motivation, style, reward, and feedback systems. The “How
Game Developers Protect Players From Themselves” (2017) video below examples several of these decision-making processes, though it should be known that these concepts are selectable, even negotiable, and not mandatory for all cases.
https://youtu.be/7L8vAGGitr8
Unlike XCOM or Arkham Horror, the use of activity theory and teacher research allows me as the designer press “pause” at critical moments where we can, as in Theatre of the
Oppressed, stop to have both participants and non-participants examine some rule, community, artifact, or way of doing. It also observes ways in which participants think outside of the 112 common procedures and develop new protocols. Few who enter my classroom are likely to become intergalactic super soldiers like Chavez, but most will use writing in their lives. Affixing
DCM as feedback mechanisms to activity and embedded research provides an opportunity to understand how their takeaways from such activities inform their writing in fruitful ways and where buy-in, or immersivity, needs improvement. If the gauntlet had been thrown down some years ago about whether or not any extensive play can positively actually speak to both the institution and students at the same time, scholars such as Wesch have demonstrated tremendous success in answering the call without strictly relying on gamification. The research laid out here aims at discovering how FYC might assemble the machinations the study lays out into a developer’s kit of sorts for site-specific work, but like most of the scholars mentioned in this study, making such strides requires interactivity and co-collaboration with students. The methods in this study scale to those needs and remain mindful of the participatory mechanisms encouraged by both the site and by GBL values. Reflecting back, suffering Chavez’s death
(Figure 13) was far less significant than what the many hours of her life recently revealed about agency, design, and the need to methodologically evaluate how procedures and choices connect in ways that lead to productive learning. 113
Figure 13. XCom2’s Bar/Memorial. Players can visit fallen allies such as Chavez, and even write epitaphs. Such a space plays no part in the “action,” of the game, but it does add immersivity and honors “dead” avatars rather than considering them part of a body count. 114
CHAPTER 4: BETA TESTING IN A CO-PRODUCTIVE STUDIO: FIGHTING TOOTH AND
TAIL TOWARDS PRODUCTIVE PLAY
Over a spread of keyboards, monitors, and notes, the Pocketwatch Games development team reviews chains of internal and external data that informs them how to make games more effective for their target audience. Feedback and data hold tremendous value for the company, and their latest and most ambitious project, Tooth and Tail, offers significant proof that their approach to findings yields significant returns. In an industry where behemoth developers like
Sony, Microsoft, and Activision Blizzard can devote dozens of highly skilled staff members and spend between $20-$50 million dollars to drop a single, top of the line “AAA” title seemingly at will, it makes a statement when the four member ragtag indie group of Pocketwatch Games won
“Best Character Design” (2016) and was nominated for “Gamer’s Voice (Multiplayer)” (2017),
“Best Strategy Game” (three times in 2017), the “2017 ASCAP Video Game Score of the Year,” and “Excellence in Narrative” (2018). But it may also make the enticing statement for those interested in Game Based Learning (GBL) that big budgets and big tech aren’t requirements for productive play; rather, Pocketwatch offers a strategy similar to the spirit of co-production espoused in this pilot study-communicate with users, revise based on their input and actions, and grow together through experience and data. In this way, the developer mentality begins to become a promising route to thinking about data as revision or even using games in FYC course design. 115
Research Question 1: How Can Game-Based Learning be Better Understood,
Implemented, and Measured in First-Year Writing Courses?
Game developers might look at the process of understanding, implementing, and measuring the progress of a prototype as a form of beta testing. Similarly, this study presents designs as both a way for me, and perhaps others, to engage and learn more about Game-Based
Learning (GBL) from a developer mindset--one that must create an activity for others but anticipates user involvement may affect change depending on the teacher and the site. The short answer to this question is that I found the “how” in the creation of a sort of development kit, a way of design and procedure that offers a basis to build upon.
Assembling the Engine
Every video game created has an environment, an interface, and an instruction set called an engine that developers use to plan, program, and flesh out games. For example, Firaxis developed the creative and design concept for XCom2 using the Unreal engine as a set of protocols to bring those ideas to life in an immersive environment. In this way, it makes sense to think about the teacher and course designer as a developer, and the ideas put forth in this study as the assembling of our own sort of “Unreal” engine. As chapter 1 laid out a basic set of instructions, chapter 2 and chapter 3 spoke of methods and methodologies for a basic architecture and debugging system to help assemble these instructions. This chapter calls upon collected data from early prototypes using an initial version of this engine to make sense of what works, and more importantly, opportunities for improvement. Specifically, this study explored
BGSU’s GSW 1110-2025 and GSW 1110-2031 as sites with the Literacy Narrative, Discourse
Community, Rhetorical Analysis, and Theory of Writing major projects as development opportunities for play. In other words, as the teacher, my goal was to understand the site and 116 needs, then use this engine/development kit to design productive play for my classroom as an augmentation to these well-known and well used assignments within the writing department.
Launching Prototypes
The prototypes for play were known to students as On-the-Scene (OTS) activities. Each prototype focused on one of the four major projects constructed with activity and principles of play, insofar as they achieved a beta-testing state--that is in developer language, a functional state allowing playtesters to explore and offer feedback. The “source” code for this engine revolved around four key parameters: principles of play, activity, learning goals, and the ability for patch-able interaction (augmentation on the fly), each of which have been detailed in previous chapters. It is in these parameters that I encourage the teacher/developer to focus on refining the so-called kit. The value in presenting the prototypes for this study, and detailed in this chapter, is all for naught if the teacher/developer becomes too fixated on a specific game prototype described rather than the development tools that led to its creation. The games themselves are simply what I as a developer in my site found appropriate for the engine used.
Afterall, Zelda developers might become frustrated if they tried to directly port an XCom level to their game--and their players might find such a forced inclusion odd. It is a different site with different needs. Instead, the Zelda team might see the possibilities for the engine in their own game based on how XCom used the engine and find some gain in the processes they utilized. The same is true for teachers. My hope is that teachers will use, or modify this Principles of Play
(PoP) engine, the design, and find some traction based on the game prototypes examples to ideate their own possibilities.
It is also important to emphasize the value of beta-testing on-site and with representative samples for the teacher/developer. When using these ideals and principles, I allow students to 117 test and help refine modes of play. This underpins the practices of the most successful game developers who regularly use feedback on designs. It is my belief and experience that students serve as powerful and highly capable co-producers. In this regard, much of the discussion surrounding the data comes as a sort of ethnographic understanding of play in these courses, and there may occur a natural exchange as the teacher/developer produces such play. After all, I pose the question: Who does play, or even activities if this alternative term is more approachable, belong to in a classroom? Is it the creator/teacher or the user/student? My experiences have alluded that the answer is both, and therein resolves the question of beta-testing and patching and the need to document our practice within the classroom community.
Data Processing: Compiling, Coding, and the Bug Hunt
With the developer mindset, framing the process for GBL designs as a suite of compiled functions enabled for the sorts of play and games discussed makes the most sense for understanding the data. In previous chapters, many of the ideas such as Principles of Play (PoP) and activity in play have taken a theoretical approach in order to offer a foundation for why practical implementation might serve our work. This chapter will build from those theories, laying out each designed activity (aka game) in a more physical sense. The following features demonstrate the physical compiling process used to create designs and gather data for the prototypes.
Instruction Set
In the world of computers, an instruction set consists of commands in machine language that allows the Central Processing Unit (CPU) to communicate between the system’s physical architecture and the programs, including reading, writing, and transporting information to turn on 118 fans, boot drives, launch programs, and maintain a plethora of functions the user may never see.
Although understanding these processes takes some of the magic out of making ‘things’ happen just by clicking buttons, it also reminds us this instruction set translates and binds important protocols to programs. These core instructions dictate system functions that read programs, such as video games for example, in order to run them if they are called upon and compatible.
Although an FYC instructor may not foray into computer science, I believe we can develop our own kind of instruction set for the GBL processes we may wish to launch in our courses. In some ways, such an analogy might also explain why one learning game, or even one type of learning game, isn’t compatible for everyone or for every class; additionally, without such an instruction set, it may seem difficult or frustrating to imagine how play might work towards fruitful learning. But if this is the case, what does this instruction set entail, and how does this language translate to the student?
Most teachers develop the essential materials for an “instruction set” as they plan and develop their course. What is the course about? What specific projects or concepts will be explored? How do learning goals and course criteria translate to in-class activities/games? For this study, and perhaps others, these questions help us hardwire the first “codes” for game-based design by shaping how information will port into play from other sources. For example, BGSU’s
GSW 1110 website offers details regarding writing conventions, processes, citation, rhetoric, technologies, and attention to audience as fundamental course components--some grounded and understood course architecture (GSW 1110, 2019). This course also values confidence building, collaboration, and exploring genres. Additionally, the instructor (developer) has a specific set of language set forth as learning goals/outcomes (Figure 14). Specifically, BGSU’s GSW outcomes 119 include the following outcomes, along with how GBL might translate these--the development of the instruction set:
• ECOC 1. Formulate. effective written and/or oral arguments which are based
upon appropriate, credible research. Engage in the electronic research and
composing processes, including locating, evaluating, disseminating, using and
acknowledging research, both textual and visual, from popular and scholarly
electronic databases.
GBL Translation. Operates as a sort of “movement” function built into the
“game” that allows students the freedom and mobility to explore spaces as they
move towards goals. Ideally, the creation of the game will consider ECOC1 as
places to explore physically and/or intellectually.
• ECOC 2. Construct. materials which respond effectively to the needs of a variety
of audiences, with an emphasis upon academic audiences. Demonstrate the
importance of values systems in academic writing, including the abilities to write
effectively to audiences with opposing viewpoints, to participate in an active
learning community that values academic honesty, and to recognize the place of
writing within learning processes.
GBL Translation. Operates as the “action” component of design. In designing
the games used in this study, ECOC 2 works as the actions/interactions and
materials necessary to interact with the “world” and reach goals. For instance, this
might include what other players characters (PC) or Non-Player Characters
(NPCs) do or say and the active processes to develop some form composed
artifact. 120
• ECOC 3. Analyze. how the principles of rhetoric work together to promote
effective communication. Practice the processes entailed in academic writing,
including recursive processes for drafting texts, collaborative activities, the
development of personalized strategies, and strategies for identifying and locating
source materials.
GBL Translation. Operates as the “communication” coding of design. Each
prototype in this study attempts to program in moments where students must
communicate and work together with others, develop strategies, and develop
rhetorical communicative strategies.
• ECOC 5. Utilize. rhetorical strategies that are well-suited to the rhetorical
situation, including appropriate voice, tone, and levels or formality. Demonstrate
rhetorical knowledge through writing in a variety of academic genres and to a
variety of academic audiences. Demonstrate knowledge of the conventions of
academic writing, including format and documentation systems, coherence
devices, conventional syntax, and control over surface features such as grammar,
punctuation, mechanics, and spelling.
GBL Translation. Operates as the “character” development coding. The
prototypes created in this study use ECOC 5 to consider the creation of rhetorical
situation that require particular voice, tones, genres, and approaches. The other
end of this coding processes is that the “game” inherently prompts the students to
take on a situated role, but importantly, the prototypes still work to allow students
to transfer their own identities into these roles (avatara). 121
• ECOC 6. Demonstrate. critical thinking, reading, and writing strategies when
crafting arguments that synthesize multiple points of view. Demonstrate critical
thinking, reading, and writing skills through approaching academic writing
assignments as a series of cognitive tasks, including engaging in multiple modes
of inquiry, synthesizing multiple points of view, critiquing student and
professional writing, and assessing source materials.
GBL Translation. Operates as the “inventory” functions in this study’s
prototypes. In order to demonstrate critical thinking, reading, and strategies, the
students need artifacts in which to apply the ECOC 6 outcomes. The prototypes
attempt to supply these throughout the course of “play.” These prototypes see the
terms “demonstrate,” “skills,” and “crafting” stated in ECOC 6 as mediating or
working towards some item that will then be used as an “action” (ECOC 2).
Figure 14. RGP Maker MV Code Screen. This simple game code examples a metaphoric way to think about instruction sets (ECOC/GBL in this study) as a communication between the system (L.O/class), the coder (teacher), and the user (student) as translational. As a site-specific study, these ECOCs attempt to work at a difficult translation between the programmatic “codes” of the writing department and how they work to translate into the 122 basic coding structures for immersive play. The set of outcomes and translations noted serves as the initial and critical “how” moment that begins the process of creating the play I envision--that spark where the physical architecture comes to life and launches the GBL programs used in this study. As a development kit, other instructors and departments might assign these functions differently, or tweak the code, depending on their outcomes and needs.
Wrapper
The wrapper, sometimes called the “skin” or graphic design, of a game indicates the aesthetics encompassing the coded material (Figure 15). For a video game such as Tooth and
Tail, the wrapper thematically encompasses the word, replete with a title screen that leads to a three-quarter overhead view of a base camp in forest filled with interesting cartoonish animals.
Players immediately get a sense of the world they entered and situate into the roles, controls, and rules of the game. They have immersed into this wrapper, even though all of the instructions and codes Pocketwatch uses to make these functions possible operate behind the scenes. In the academic games prototyped for this study, the wrapper lies in the contextualization of play.
Students might receive materials that place them as journalists, detectives, assistants, or consultants. Sometimes this might involve a change in space or the use of media such as clips, films, or imaginative scenarios. Although it’s clear they’ve entered some form of playful activity, they may not also know the environment is predicated on course goals as the coded system. 123
Figure 15. RPG Maker MV. This screen demonstrates the wrapper for the code screen in the previous section. This is what the player can see and act upon to meet the needs of the “code.” Principles of Play (PoP)
Game-based activities used in this study act as an engine, a way to transfer the instruction set and physical elements of play towards actions participants can take. These include identity/avatara (within the activity), ludus, paidia, and procedural metacognition.
Identity always presents confusion because the term has so many subjective meanings, but in the play associated with this study, identity is bound to a sort of open-ended “character.”
For example, a student might know they are simultaneously working on a discourse community project as a student in a GSW class and also assume the role of an inquisitive gumshoe trying to solve a mystery in an associated activity. Interestingly, this is not an either/or practice that asks the student to give up their own identity. They are themselves and something else, which only can define on an individual basis as demonstrated in this study. Some participants will deeply commit to playing a part, and others will keep some distance; however, the whole of the activity creates a sort of distortion that plays on Gee’s (2015) “Avatars in Real Life” chapter in Unified 124
Discourse Analysis: Language, reality, virtual worlds, and video games by acknowledging we all play multiple “roles” in real life and can adjust identities on the fly. In the games created for this course, I wanted the “instruction set” and architecture of building confidence, exploration, and critical thinking to allow for students taking chances and trying new approaches to solve a problem in play. I created roles that might naturally encompass these values: reporters, detectives, assistants, and consultants. At times, some stopped to check our readings, a slide, or ask a question related to the game, then they re-engaged with their “character” to continue playing. They were allowed, and often did, flesh out these personas with their own traits. This speaks exactly to Gee’s point and a positive way distortion occurred to address PoP identity.
Fourth Generation Activity
The modern classroom often exists in many physical and digital spaces all at one once, and game-based activities can benefit from these layered activity systems. As a designer, understanding that activity explores how work gets done both cyclically and expansively, replete with successes and binds, creating games that shape and challenge activity systems can help direct play towards goals. For example, students acting as consultants to solve a problem may take many directions towards a specific goal defined in the activity, but from the designer standpoint, the game can be bounded towards a range of linked “win states” in the activity. For the player/student, that might be a creating a specific parking plan. For the teacher, that might be a well-developed rhetorical argument with cited sources. When the student also discovers through metacognition that both of these win states may aid their objective to write a rhetorical analysis, they have toggled identities into another linked activity. Interestingly, these states already link multiple activity systems, those of the students and those of the teacher. They define what that goal really means and encounter rules, tools, community, and set of labors to reach a 125 conclusion. The teacher may not see any particular solution as better than the other, but instead considers how students used learning goals such as collaboration, proper citation, critical thinking, and risk-taking as the instructor’s bounded goal. At this point, it might also seem clear that activity offers a way to both examine how the instruction set and students communicate with one another--to shape the action of activity. This effect displays the instruction set and activity working in tandem. It also appreciates binds and contradictions in activity as potentially healthy and approachable “in-game” via access to duality of character across multiple systems--a function less explored in non-game or earlier forms of activity.
As an instructor, I supplied my students with a number of rules and tools in the form of handouts, slides, and instruction sheets. We had our in-person class community, online discussion boards, NPCs, Canvas chat, and other sources such as librarians and the campus community that were all community components. In this way, activity helps build the world and the boundaries of the game.
Pause
Pressing “pause” in these prototypes serves as moment to briefly stop an activity at critical moments where key questions, notifications, or breaks in action make sense. Pauses might come as planned moments in between objectives or at the end of class. They may also serve as a way for the students or instructor to get back in bounds or to re-bound objectives. For example, the gumshoe mysteries present a series of questions and clues within a specific time limit that leads some students pause their roles in the activity and inquire about rules or opportunities. In the parking game, I might have to pause where students get confused about an objective or reapproach goals should they get off track. And in a procedural sense, these pauses are reminiscent of games where players check the map to get a sense of necessary waypoints, or 126 even jump on a forum to see what a community of players advise. Although most of these examples relate to experiences in the classroom, it is also important to note pause points may also work for the teacher at times when we need to access what students have offered us in the way of response and feedback. To think on these moments and redesign just might help us evaluate our practice in play, and maybe beyond, but the conception of such a pause gives the developer a moment to run feedback through the kit processes explored.
Patch
In the world of video games, patches work as augmentations to fix bugs, supplement already existing information, or make a number of improvements to existing design and functionality. For the prototypes explored in this study, patches came as design elements to meet the needs of each specific class and as user generated improvements. Similar to Pocketwatch’s feedback, repair, and support on-the-fly development, the prototype patches in this study demonstrate some ways to respond to moments when play goes awry or requires meeting some previously unforeseen need. Although it is difficult to anticipate every possible situation where an instructor might patch, some ways to do so include rules/boundaries clarification, developing an NPC as a helper or problem, or adding tools/artifacts to assist with productive play.
Analysis and Data of OTS Prototypes
The On the Scene (OTS) prototypes used in this study aim at supplementing concepts and practices used for major outcomes and projects in the course. This section provides each OTS activity with an explanation for how these games were compiled with notes and corresponding data from my work as a teacher/developer and from my students’ surveys and produced artifacts. 127
As detailed in the methods section, a survey was given during each unit where one the
OTS activities was used. The survey always came some time after the game with the hope of better understanding whether or not the OTS activities seemed helpful to students and their writing. Additionally, the survey responses may better inform possible improvements to existing designs.
The operations and results in this chapter provide some answers to the research questions this study proposes, but it also shares ownership of the material with any teacher who also wishes to ask the same questions in their course design. In getting at how to use play, I don’t recommend specific games, but rather specific creations and designs that resemble a development kit. As I lay out how I used this development kit and what I found, my hope is that these notes and experiences provide a springboard for the ways other teachers might use this kit at their own sites.
Research Question 2: What are Some Specific Tools and Designs that First-Year Writing
Teachers Can Use and Augment for Game-Based Learning?
The following tools represent four key OTS designs used in the study. These offer some specific examples with feedback and notes as a referential way to approach the development kit concept. As protypes that might be approachable by any teacher, I omitted possibilities requiring extensive budget or technological affordances. Certainly, any teacher who wishes may advance on these design ideas in ways that speak to their skillsets, and I include some possibilities moving forward in chapter five. 128
In the Field
The “In the Field” OTS presented the class with call for assistance by a hypothetical writing department committee tasked with promoting writing spaces beyond the classroom via a series of articles combined into a “writer’s travel guide.” Students take on the role of travel writers who must each visit a different space on campus, explore writing on location, and provide a narrative of their personal experiences as a way to connect with their audience.
Students worked as independent “journalists” but also met in 3-4 member staff-meetings to share their stories in progress as part of an editorial review for the Travel Guide committee. In order to get a better sense of how to compose such documents, students receive links to a highly narrative travel article and Mike Bunn’s (2011) How to Read Like a Writer. The activity ran the course of six days, beginning on a Thursday and ending during the first half of class the following
Tuesday. As both GSW 1110 courses only met Tuesday and Thursday, students conducted much of the individual work outside of class--save two group meetings. The final product of the activity concluded with a one-page article (Figure 17).
Instruction Set
The “In the Field” criteria ideally attempts to call up the mindset and skills necessary for
GSW 1110’s Literacy Narrative project. Because the Literacy Narrative project relies upon considering how an audience might learn from self-analysis, the “game” attempts to simulate a similar opportunity through confidence building and exploration.
ECOC 1 (Developer). This prototype included three spaces to visit and formulate. A space on the Canvas shell was created that introduced the project and contained links to highly narrative travel articles, Mike Bunn’s article, and a map of the Campus. Students were also given 129 an array of locations on campus to choose from. The classroom was designated as the “board room” where questions and debriefings took place. It is important to note that as the instructor
(developer), I wanted students primarily to draw upon their embodied memories of writing, so I envisioned their sense of place and feeling in visiting chosen location as a form of evaluating and locating “research” alongside the assigned articles centered on audience awareness.
ECOC 1 (Finding). Students visited the three noted spaces to formulate their articles. I anticipated a more linear progression of play similar to old side-scrolling adventures such as the original Super Mario Bros., where players can move one direction to cross obstacles, but they can never go back. By this, I suspected they might go to Canvas to pick up the articles, then visit their chosen space, then compose a draft, and then go to the boardroom for help with revision.
This was not the case. I found they returned to these spaces, sometimes multiple times, as each student needed to bolster ECOC 6 (Inventory) functions. Interestingly, the students’ movement in this project makes sense in the same way a video game character travels around places within the game to pick up and mine items they need, or as a way to get a lay of the land.
ECOC 2 (Developer). The game begins with an exigency elicited by an audience generated problem. The students need to know an audience exists and has a set of needs in order for construction (action) to take place. In this case, two NPC groups were created to serve this purpose. One NPC group consisted of off-screen characters known as the Writing Department
Committee. The second NPC group consisted of the instructor (myself) who served as the Staff
Editor charged with making sure the committees’ ideas and criteria were well understood. In the editor’s role, I provided the committees’ different ideas, viewpoints, and tips about how writers might approach these processes. 130
ECOC 2 (Finding). Students asked a lot of questions about what the committee exactly wanted, what makes a good narrative article, and what they needed to do in order to create a successful article. Some answers given were concrete such as page count, clarification of the genre used, and purpose. Other answers seemed more varied. As the NPC, my task was to realistically answer questions but in ways that pointed towards ECOC 2’s interest in process, opposing viewpoints, learning from writing/reading. For example, one NPC committee member wanted to learn about physical space, another about the writer’s takeaway from their experience writing in the space, and others who debated the pros and cons of writing the chosen space. With this information, the writers made decisions about how to effectively take action. Sometimes they directly began drafting and other times they revisited Canvas or their location to gather information or materials, returning to the writing after sufficiently equipped with enough information.
ECOC 3 (Developer). Due to the emphasis on personal narrative in this “game,” the boardroom meetings served as the designed communal space to regroup, analyze, and revise. The
Staff Editor (instructor) begins the meeting with a few minutes of asking how everyone’s explorations went and moves into discussing how the notes taken and on-site experience might meet the context, purpose, audience expectations, and genre of the intended article. After this debriefing, writers break into groups of three to four members and share their drafts with an emphasis on ideating ways to consider rhetorical situation in their articles. The Staff Editor briefly visits to the groups for an informal pitch of their projects and to ask about any difficulties encountered. This serves as a way to help the writer develop strategies for moving forward with their drafts, and it gives the instructor clues about possible patches if students get too far off track or if some change to the activity becomes necessary. The first meeting takes place before 131 students go into the field and the second meeting takes place when they return. The overall goal is to open communicative lines and analysis through a rhetorical filter.
ECOC 3 (Finding). The first meeting included a fair amount of questions and confusion about how to get started on the activity. In some cases, those who read the articles and asked pointed questions seemed to understand the goal of the activity and helped explain it to their group members. Others expressed an unfamiliarity with this sort of writing and weren’t sure how to communicate with each other about the project. Some groups extensively communicated, and others seemed to talk for a short time and then moved to independently reading the Canvas articles or activity prompt. Like so many “starting zones” in games, the world presented by “In the Field” was unfamiliar and a bit confusing. As the first OTS activity of the semester, many students did not exactly know how to settle into the activity. The second meeting saw a great deal more participation and communication. By the second meeting, students had notes from visiting their locations and they likely had shared experiences to better communicate.
ECOC 5 (Developer). The “In the Field” game clearly defines the purpose of the activity as creating articles for Writer’s Travel Guide aimed at convincing first-year students to write in interesting spaces across campus. Because the student has entered a specific rhetorical situation, developing a Journalist role as the agent specifically calls up a mindset for the conventions and practices performed in this game. Importantly, the simulation remains open enough that students need only transfer in a rough estimation of what a reporter does to successfully operate, with any activity specific duties supplemented by the instructor/editor. For example, the Call of Duty games situate players as special forces operatives and Forza Motorsport asks players to slip into the role of racecar drivers. Most who play these games will never acquire the years of training and knowledge necessary to become an elite soldier or professional driver, but they do 132 understand the roles well enough to effectively play the game; Similarly, developing the reporter for this game allows for a contextual vessel to employ rhetorical strategies and conventions within the given rhetorical situation.
ECOC 5 (Finding). None of the participants reported confusion with the reporter
“character,” though some expressed that they were not sure how to write an article like a reporter might. Mike Bunn’s (2011) Reading Like a Writer and links to sample travel articles allowed for a class discussion about genre with a short analysis of what techniques we thought the writers used to effectively engage their audience. Certainly, not all courses will use this same material, but the students helped me realize some tutelage, however brief, about how the “character’s” skills may help them utilize the rhetorical devices afforded to the role. In some ways, I began to envision this process in a similar fashion to the tool-tips many game designers use to demonstrate how character interact in their worlds. The opening action scenes from Call of Duty:
Infinite Warfare depicted below demonstrate some simple tool-tips (Figure 16). The developers use these tools to help explain how characters perform functions. Rather than providing an extensive guide covering all of the character functions, the game prefers to focus on the task at hand while prompting players with essential actions as they arrive.
Figure 16: Call of Duty: Infinite Warfare. With no prior training, players are aided by tool tips to learn how to properly land. 133
Although much less dramatic than jumping from a speeding plane, our class used what we noticed in our readings and what we thought our audiences wanted to develop a list of tool-tips to better understand ways to utilize our roles.
ECOC 6 (Developer). Words such as synthesize, engage, critique, demonstrate, and crafting through source material that appear in ECOC 6 seem to represent the mediation of some representational tools--a sort of inventory that demonstrates some effect when created or used. In this activity, I encouraged students to make observations, take pictures, sketch, and jot down thoughts in a notebook as they explored. These source materials serve as a working inventory of items that can later be called up and synthesized to demonstrate writing strategies for the construction of materials. As a developer, this GBL slant on ECOC processes makes sense as
ECOC 6 and ECOC 2 work in tandem. The player reaches into the inventory, and uses
(synthesizes; mediates) an item to perform an action.
ECOC 6 (Finding). Students who collected and used these materials generally found them helpful for writing during the activity. However, some students did not create or collect any of these items. I could have made field notes or pictures mandatory, and may do so in the future, as these source materials seemed to help students engage with the writing and gave me ideas about how to assist them. 134
Activity Theory: In the Field
Figure 17. In the Field activity development sheet using Spinuzzi’s activity system. Wrapper
When working with immersive play, especially for the first time, students might become alarmed if they assume the game/simulation is high-risk or “real.” I try to offer my own sort of
“loading” and “get ready” screen before launching into play. I have found that even by gradation, some form of immersion tends to happen. “In the Field” takes place at BGSU and begins at the start of class with me asking, “What if writing allowed up to travel places beyond the classroom?” and “Where would you go to write?” Following a moment of discussion, the instructor asks, “What if the university wanted to create an on-campus travel guide for writers?”
Students are directed to a letter in Canvas from the fictional editorial committee of
Writing_Spaces, a pilot travel guide with the purpose of connecting place, experience, and writing through narrative articles. The letter prompts students to become amateur reporters who 135 share their perceptions and stories as first-year writers. Of course, this is challenging work, so the instructor has been briefed by the editorial staff and agrees to convert the classroom into a newsroom/board room as the activity moves forward. Albeit relatively small, the game world and instruction set are in place. We encourage co-production by letting students take pictures around campus, share articles, and engage in light banter about “getting the scoop” or “where are we at on the BTSU piece?” For many students, this sort of play is quite a new experience, but the game wrapper is light enough that most students seemed interested or at least curious about the experience.
Principles of Play
Game-based writing identity. Many of students reported a positive experience with identity in the game that generally support the avatara concept. On a discussion board reflecting on the game, one respondent from GSW 1110-2025 wrote “It was very strange to become a reporter and write as a travel writer. However, this was a very cool project and helped me think in other ways that I never have before when it comes to writing. It really allowed me to become open-minded.” A GSW 1110-2031 student noted, “It was not strange for me to jump into another world or portal when I was writing…it forced me to think differently and at some points,
I was looking at my article as if I weren’t the writer, but as the new students who would want to read the article.” The game did not receive any completely negative reviews, but one student stated, “…the negative aspect [of the activity] is that it becomes very easy to be sucked into the false reality…” Another suggested, “I don’t think video games in school work. My junior year we played Minecraft to see what it was like to live in the Animal Farm world. The whole idea wasn’t good and didn’t work well.” Overall, these PoP elements seemed to work well in terms of syncing students with the wrapper and instruction set, but I also feel there’s a need to 136 acknowledge the duality of student and avatar as coexisting in the classroom and that some attention must go towards acknowledging how negative experiences with play in another space may transfer to those the instructor/developer creates.
Ludus. The game presents a relatively linear set of rules and objectives for play, indicating that students must visit a specific location in order to develop a travel article based on their experiences. A GSW 1110-2025 student provided, “It was strange, but in a good way. I had to shape my thinking a little bit differently to be able to think in the way that I did was very interesting, and I think it helps how you writer when you have to shape how you think to write in certain places or for certain things [sic].” A GSW 1110-2025 student added, “Actually learning through experience has been the most helpful in the learning process but convincing me to try thing [sic] that I don’t initially like is the hard part.” As with most any game containing a specified rule set, the processes and boundaries provide physical and mental directionality towards completing a task. Initial buy-in to this process can be difficult for some, but I wanted to allow for what many students called strange to be part of the exploration process towards their goals.
Paidia. Most of the paidia elements of this game seemed to take place at the sites where students gathered information for their articles. As paidia allows for an evolution of the way the game is played and eventually and evolution of the rules themselves, several students allowed for their imagination and intuition to guide their approaches--to declare in their own way and advice about how a first-year writing journalist might go about such a job. In GSW 1110-2025, a reporter posted, “It a [sic] interesting experience to say the least, I enjoyed having the freedom to write about the feelings I felt while in a place I think all too often we don’t focus on the little things that change the feeling of work.” For this student, it seems the task of visiting and taking 137 notes became more about exploring freedom and self-discovery. Another student quipped, “The most helpful aspect of this sort of ‘play’ is learning from experiencing because if I do something wrong, I am going to know to not do it again.” Interestingly, the game itself never declared the right way to play, but many of the groups made their own rules and conventions for how editorial groups would work together and lay out materials. In essence, they added to how the game was played.
Metacognition. Most of the comments collected include some self-awareness about how students approached the game and about their own processes as they played. As I collected more data, I began to observe the metacognitive factor as an anchor point to the instruction set. The following comment form “In the Field” offers some assistance, “…one of the most challenging parts of academic ‘play’ is that portaling of information and self-observation because its intensive as far as critical thinking goes, and I’m really going to have to work hard and push myself beyond what I believe I’m capable of [sic].” The student realizes the duality, or “magic circle” of the game, as set of tasks and skills moving into and out of play (‘portaling’) but always hinged to rigor and the goals necessary to effectively think and write. If the writer could peel back the wrapper and PoP of the OTS activity, that person may just see that they are communicating with codes from the instruction set of learning outcomes/goals. In other words, the student and outcomes/goals are communicating with one another translated in a physical way through the “game world.”
Gumshoes
The “Gumshoe” game represents a set of two mystery cases based on Stanford &
Stanford’s (1969) Learning Discussion Skills through Games, whereby students must use various communication skills in order to solve a murder mystery. All necessary clues are divided among 138 the students so that each person has one clue. Students may communicate with each other, but they may not directly read their clue to others. The game seeks to illicit communication and contribution among the students in order to ascertain the answer to the mystery. Although this game went into print some 50 years ago, it has remained relevant. Most notably, Peter Pappas, a
45-year veteran teacher, has continued to bring attention to this game in his classroom and on his website (Pappas, 2019). The “Gumshoe” game used in this study pays homage to Stanford &
Stanford and Pappas’ vision but adds elements of Real Time Strategy (RTS) from video games and discourse community scholarship to situate play for BGSU’s FYC community (Figure 18).
Instruction Set
ECOC 1 (Developer). As this game attempts to draw attention to aspects of a discourse community, much of the “movement” centers around the classroom, Canvas spaces, and theater of the mind (imagined) spaces that exist in the game. At the base level, students have access to
Gee’s (1989) Literacy, Discourse, and Linguistics: Introduction, and Johns’ (1997) Discourse
Communities and Communities of Practice: Membership, Conflict, and Diversity. These documents lay out textual understandings of discourse communities and provide an on-time, on- demand research point of reference. Canvas also contained an assignment space asking students to create a group agreement policy and encouraged the chat function. Due to the “character” and
“inventory” modifications made to this game, specifically with team cohesion, the design aimed at making it necessary to return to these spaces in order to formulate appropriate and credible arguments. In the classroom and on Canvas, students were split into teams.
ECOC 1 (Finding). Students were divided into teams and asked to use the assigned Gee and Johns articles to formulate a policy for how their group might work towards becoming a discourse community of gumshoe detectives. The cases were not revealed at this time in order to 139 get a sense of how students might holistically envision their work. The articles helped, but many of the students remained somewhat confused about terms such as “genres,” “lexis,” and
“participatory mechanisms,” even with an explanation. Eventually, I encouraged returning to the readings and Canvas spaces between episodes of play with their experiences as a supplement to their course readings. This seemed to help overall, though I can’t verify exactly who followed this suggestion. Although the chat function in Canvas overlaps with the “communication” function discussed later, I found the Canvas chat application as relatively basic, since it has no way to log conversations.
ECOC 2 (Developer). The Gumshoe game involves using several possible Player
Character (PC) and NPC actions to consider as players work to convince the Chief Inspector
NPC to make an arrest. Players must construct the warrant by declaring the suspect(s), weapons or tools used, time the crime was committed, scene of the crime, and the motive. Once the game launches, a timer begins count down, and each member of the 3-4 player team is given a random clue. This randomization creates a myriad of possible actions to pursue and immediately creates the need to construct the warrant before time expires. Periodically, a new NPC will enter the fray and deliver evidence, which may either reinforce or redirect possible assertions. This certainly makes for fast-paced play as the suspect tries to escape in time, but from developer’s standpoint, my real goal with this ECOC function is to call for a persuasive argument while considering the viewpoints and teammates and the credibility of NPCs.
ECOC 2 (Finding). The groups took a variety of approaches to construct the warrant for the Chief Inspector. Some groups made suspect lists and worked out arguments based on limited evidence that either implicated or exonerated NPCs. Other groups took a more verbal approach in hypothesizing, refusing to write down answers until they were sure they had obtained a correct 140 answer. After some initial confusion, most groups settled on a general process of information gathering such as creating timelines and fact lists. Interestingly, some groups tried to understand the crime from different suspect’s perspective based on how those NPCs acted or what they said.
ECOC 3 (Developer). Every major NPC in the mystery games has a motive and most utilize some form of persuasion to either support their position or to throw the investigators off track. Some NPC’s tell the truth, and others lie. Other characters have information with little value, and some have information of great value once combined with the right clue. The design promotes analyzing how rhetorical principles shape arguments for both the NPCs and for the group members who work towards a finite answer. This design prompts the need to consider participatory mechanisms and intercommunication within groups.
ECOC 3 (Finding). Because students were not allowed to directly read their clues, it was interesting to observe how rhetoric both shaped perceptions and the practices of the group. Some participants simply paraphrased their clue, but others prefaced their clue by offering a persuasive analysis as to what their clue means. For example, one member made a collateral attack on an
NPC by noting he likely committed the crime because he was on drugs. The clue itself only mentioned drugs were found outside of a building and never mentioned who might have owned them. Some NPCs were liked, and others villainized among groups. It also became clear the game contained a number of red herrings, causing the groups to re-organize their practices and communication to move towards their goals. Some formed their own genres and developed a lexis for disseminating clues. For example, one group create a “Trusted” and “Liars” pool of
NPCs with points about what they thought each NPC wanted. Another group created nicknames for NPCs such as “good guys, bad guys, the ‘crackhead’, the ‘drunk’, and the ‘bum’.” All of this 141 analysis played a part in shaping perceptions that ultimately led to each group’s decision-making process.
ECOC 5 (Developer). The activity itself required little written documentation that might call for documentation systems, format, grammar, or formality in the alphabetic sense. However, the mysteries present two modes of rhetorical situation designed to shape how “characters” might utilize rhetorical strategies through voice and tone. On the one hand, the NPCs involved in the crime allow the group to approach a specific rhetorical situation. On the other hand, the real value of the activity comes with the rhetorical situation the groups create among themselves in developing an answer. The activity’s design was more concerned about revealing how communities communicate and take on roles. In this regard, it left group members to define their roles as they may.
ECOC 5 (Finding). Students utilized a number of roles in working to “compose” an argument. Each group found their own way of working with one another, shifting into a combination of facilitators, note-takers, researchers (those who carefully reviewed clues), and questioners. This is not to say an equal balance of these roles existed. Some groups were much more talkative, with multiple facilitators volleying ideas. A few groups worked in relative silence, arranging clues and pointing across each other’s papers. Others switched roles depending on what members [perceived] to know about specific points in the case.
ECOC 6 (Developer). Students need to demonstrate critical thinking, listening, and writing not only about the cases, but about how their group synchronizes around a specific goal.
The warrant, clues, and user generated artifacts serve as the inventory items for this game. They receive clues on slips of paper that must be converted into language. This information is discussed and synthesized into notes and lists. Further synthesis of these materials leads to the 142 warrant. The warrant itself is simple declaration naming the who, what, when, where, and why.
The material items provide a fixture for discussion, allowing members to demonstrate and reflect on where things went right or wrong as a group.
ECOC 6 (Finding). For the most part, the development sequence was followed in terms of verbalizing clues into documents such as notes, lists, and time tables. Some groups had trouble piecing together clues as artifacts and struggled to come to a precise conclusion. In some cases, correct answers were changed to incorrect answers, or left out entirely due to differentiating viewpoints on forensic evidence and the documents created by participants. I could have restricted the game to only include the slips of paper and verbal communication as the original game offers, but I believe the user generated documents serve as productive talking points. My goal was not for the students to win or lose, but to develop talking points about how discourse communities operate.
Activity Theory: Gumshoes
Figure 18. Gumshoes activity development using Spinuzzi’s activity system. 143
Wrapper
The “Gumshoe” OTS, sometimes referred to as the “mysteries,” places students as groups of amateur detectives (called precincts) trying to solve a bank robbery and a murder before the time runs out and the perpetrator escapes. These scenarios play out on separate days, with the murder mystery generally presenting a greater challenge. The activities begin with breaking news that a perplexing crime has been committed and police are scrambling to gather any clues they can that will lead to an arrest. Although not required, walking around the room, emphasizing the word “clues” or playing towards the reporter and Chief Inspector roles may help with immersion and peaking curiosity. A slide on the projector might simply begin with the following:
Police are scrambling to put together the details of the recent murder of Mr. Kelly that
occurred in the metro area; however, the investigation has been stymied as several police
agencies in different precincts all have a stake in the investigation.
The commissioner released the following comment: “Our dedicated police force will
continue to gather information and clues. Our goal is to determine who killed Mr. Kelly,
what weapon was used, the time and place of the murder, and the motive for such a
horrific crime. We also ask that any citizens with information come forward to aid the
investigation.”
The instructor/Chief Inspector gives each student a slip of paper that represents a clue from a citizen or police interview. In situations where there are more clues than students, such as in this study, these clues come forward as time dwindles. Each group receives a notecard serving as the warrant. The detectives are cautioned to avoid false arrests. A 20-minute time limit starts, and 144 students are allowed to begin working towards the answer. If extra clues remain, these are revealed as “breaking news” or “police updates” every three to five minutes, and gradually become more frequent until they come out every minute or so toward the end of the game. Once a group believes they have an answer, they submit their warrant. They can do so at any time, but they only get one chance to get it right in this game. When time expires, all groups have one minute to submit their warrants.
Principles of Play
Game-based writing identity. Students enter the role of detectives working within precincts to solve a mystery, but the rest of the avatar is left to the devices of the individual.
Some make no role assumptions other than perhaps that of inquisitive students. Others begin to transfer in language and logic devices from popular culture. On more than a few occasions, students used words such as “bust” or “perp,” and some took on a sort of Sherlock Holmes persona by laying out a narrative deduction of what they believed happened. Interestingly, some groups scratched out notes, suspect lists, and other ways which began to define them within the detective role.
Ludus. Both detective games had a specific set of rules and goals. Students needed to work together to assemble clues and develop a specific set of answers within a time limit. In fact, most students appreciated the rules as a way to help navigate their practices and they even assisted in maintaining the rigor of the rules by reminding others not to read their clues out loud or tucking them away so no cheating took place. As a designer, the ludus elements of the game helped affix the processes and challenges groups face when working together. As the game was meant to help students experience, or even take the first steps towards understanding, discourse 145 communities, the rules and objectives of play guided them towards concepts such as working on common goals, participatory mechanisms, forming genres, and applying a lexis.
Unlike the bank robbery mystery where all groups were able to communicate as they wished, the murder mystery presented more of a challenge, as slides appeared that alternated which groups could communicate with each other and which could just observe. Putting these activity groups in contact with one another where was two-fold. First, it demonstrated to active groups how different groups may or may not work together, share or not share information, and wrangle with communicative roles. Second, it allowed the observation groups the opportunity to see others engage in discourse, noticing both successes and breakdowns in communication.
Paidia. Although students followed the rules of the game, quite a few students found moments to seize an opportunity or “hack” the game to become better or even “win.” Several groups moved away from the computers to form groups in the back of the room where they had more space. Another group decided to huddle near a corner to safeguard their findings. One breakthrough came in the bank robbery mystery when a member of the GSW 1110-2025 group noticed that the rules didn’t prevent one group from talking with another. After one group sent a
“runner” to exchange information a few times with some success, that group called for the entire class to dissolve their individual groups and form one large cluster to consolidate their information. At first, they moved slow because much of the case information either came all at once or was misinterpreted among members; however, they were able to create establish enough protocols as a group to put all of the necessary information together to solve the case. I did not attempt to impede upon this unexpected modification, and I was surprised to see the groups abandon individual success for the greater good of all. 146
The murder mystery involved the same groups as before but became a much more competitive affair. Active groups could discuss information for a period of three minutes, but as a firm restriction, they were not allowed to deliberately lie or misdirect others. I kept a distance away but stayed in earshot of active groups to referee, if needed. Some groups openly shared information. Other groups shared very little and worked to gain some information edgewise. In a few cases, groups began to use their case clues and notes as currency, trying to develop an exchange system for what information they assumed bore more or less value. Some inactive groups intently listened to see if they could overhear something of value. As they could not speak, some inactive groups exchanged notes or made nonverbal cues. A few students disengaged altogether while inactive. It was interesting to see groups transitioning from inactive to active pass a quick word or two about what they indented to share or not. Additionally, active groups often made brief deliberations about what group would visit and what group would receive visitors.
Metacognition. The OTS game led to a larger conversation about how groups work together and many of the specific benefits and contradictions when working together. As discussed in paidia, the players began to make the game their own, which led to a highly metacognitive discussion board. One student highlighted:
Through the murder mystery, I noticed other groups starting to make up hypothetical
stories leading up to the actual murder. It was almost as if they were trying to create
stepping stones to make their theories make sense. This created challenges for our group
because it led us to discuss these fake clues instead of figuring out the actual crime. It
caused my group to waste a lot of time and distracted us from the big picture. Some
strategies my group used was to share our own clues then listen and take notes on other 147
clues we hear around the room. This allowed us to formulate an idea of what had
happened before getting together with other groups. I believe these strategies worked out
really well for our group! It allowed us to have a better understanding of what was going
on.
Although the development of these theories offers a bit of creative agency to the game, it also reveals how the group worked to formulate correct answer by developing strategies and communication as a community.
Helping Vinny
The “Helping Vinny” OTS activity asks players to assume the role of assistants assigned to aid My Cousin Vinny’s (1992) Vincent Gambini navigate his precarious social and legal situations. Although a raucous comedy, many law schools show the film for how it accurately follows legal procedure and lays out opposing arguments using the same evidence.
The OTS game used in this study positions the film as way to play with rhetorical analysis.
Similar to documentary games and Full Motion Video (FMV) games, scenes play out and pause as players make decisions about what the characters might do. Because the film wasn’t created as a game, the class is split into groups and given character sheets. Using course materials, they help the characters analyze their situations and make rhetorical decisions. The scene plays out, and we discuss where character went right or wrong in their actions. This OTS is meant to serve as light introduction to understanding logos, pathos, and ethos (Figure 19).
Instruction Set
ECOC 1 (Developer). Students were assigned to read Selzer’s (2004) “Rhetorical
Analysis: Understanding How Texts Persuade Readers,” and the article was placed in Canvas. 148
The film segments were provided in class. Basic character profile sheets were also placed in
Canvas, and students could edit them as needed. The goal for this game, and for this type of game, is to allow for cross-communication of academic text with active visuals. Students can move between all of these sources to formulate an effective argument.
ECOC 1 (Finding). The students seemed to navigate these spaces well. One particular issue that came up was the time constraints and permanency of the film. While Selzer’s text and the activity sheets could be thumbed through on Canvas, I could not put the film online and didn’t have time to replay scenes without losing time. The tradeoff was that the film offered some variety in demonstrating rhetoric visually and seemed to engage the students.
ECOC 2 (Developer). In order to focus on ways students might construct effective materials, they take “action” by observing contextual rhetorical cues from the scene, stop at critical point, and decide on a course of action such as using logos, pathos, ethos. Depending on the characters in the scene, different audience considerations help frame approaches.
ECOC 2 (Finding). Groups often came up with several possible responses and deliberated about the best course of action. One challenge was to get an understanding of characters and decide what the character could do versus what they probably do. It was interesting to observe humorous rhetorical exchanges when two conflicted characters assisted by students appeared in the same scene. As a developer, these moments may present a good opportunity to let dialogue play out a few moments so long as it remains cordial.
ECOC 3 (Developer). In this OTS game, Selzer (2004) offers forensic, deliberative, and epideictic rhetoric, which opens the opportunity to see how situation and location help the rhetor engage in effective communication. Consequently, part of the humor in the film stems from 149
Vinny’s early communication mishaps. This also grants students the low-risk ability to try some of Selzer’s material in a communicative form with the knowledge that whatever they come up will likely work better than what Vinny says or does.
ECOC 3 (Finding). Students initially had some trouble understanding and implementing the different types of rhetoric and terminology Selzer describes; however, after pointing out how some of these played out visually, most seemed to get a better sense about how to arrange their arguments. One potential benefit that seemed to surface came from moments where some students acknowledged how Vinny’s banter or catastrophic failures highlighted some rhetorical mechanism we discussed in class or that Selzer noted in his chapter.
ECOC 5 (Developer). Because this game did not require the development of an essay or report, the primary emphasis rested with assigning a variety of characters to the students so that they could observe how interactions differed depending on context and purpose. The idea was that students could actively develop a number of well-suited rhetorical strategies tailored to the audience in the scene.
ECOC 5 (Finding). Working with a comedy seemed effective, as the characters in such films often have exaggerated qualities that underscore some personality feature. For instance,
Stan’s irrational paranoia and stereotyping of Southerners often leads him to make false conclusions. Some of the students trying to assist Stan employed much more rational rhetorical strategies for him, but at the same time tried to retain his personality to make the pleas more authentic. I did not anticipate students would draw on the characters’ personalities as a way to situate voice or mindsets as part of the argument. In some ways, it seemed the characters themselves were “written” into walking compositions. 150
ECOC 6 (Developer). Initial development consisted of the character sheet as the primary item students would use to demonstrate critical thinking, reading (and watching), and writing.
Students would observe the characters, describe rhetorical situation, critique characters’ use, rhetoric, and then compose responses.
ECOC 6 (Finding). The character sheet somewhat worked. In the beginning, it seemed to help students get a sense of rhetoric and their characters; however, many if not most students gradually abandoned this sheet as it were a set of training wheels. Once students had a sense of their character, they began to mine items from the film itself (props, traits, evidence, etc.) as source materials for their arguments. I did not intervene to preserve the character sheets, as the students seemed to put great thought into helping the characters identify rhetorical themes and opportunities.
Activity Theory: Helping Our Cousin Vinny
Figure 19. Helping Vinny activity sheet using Spinuzzi’s activity system. 151
Wrapper
As with so many FMV games, the beginning of “Helping Vinny,” also noted as “Helping our Cousin,” begins with the inciting incident of the film. Two boys on their way from New
York to California are wrongfully accused of a crime and face certain conviction with the help of a great attorney. At this point, students actively enter the game and use what they have learned thus far about rhetorical devices to understand verbal or written decisions about what they advise the characters to do or say. The scenes continue, and we can see where the characters make correct or incorrect choices.
Principles of Play
Game-based writing identity. When playing through this scenario, groups took on light roles as advisors, friends, or possibly family members of the characters involved. Because the film is a comedy centering on several “fish out of water characters,” students often view the characters as somewhat irrational and a little silly. This may have helped reduce the risk for many groups because they knew at least in the beginning, most of their arguments would bode better than the characters’. Some students tried to imagine what they might do in the scene or worked to profile the character’s background in discussion to get a better sense of their roles or identities.
Ludus. Ludus is particularly tricky in this game because moving towards a “win” state sometimes assumes an alternate outcome for the characters rather what really happens. Films in general already work at capturing attention and drawing audiences into the action, but it can also become difficult at first to pause action and develop an analysis and response to key scenes. 152
Pacing becomes important, and groups need to also pay attention to what happens when their character is Off Scene if the action or conversation involves them.
Paidia. FMV games are often rather linear in nature due to their decide, click, watch sequencing; however, this rendition of the game created some interesting character and rule discussions. Although not part of the rules, some students felt it necessary to make rhetorical arguments that would not break character. Additionally, there was some discussion about the legality of creating arguments for characters who may not have certain knowledge. This created situations where some student/players toggled in and out of characters or oddly assumed the role of the character and of themselves as advisors at the same time.
Metacognition. Most of the students seemed to enjoy the opportunity to understand how the characters used rhetoric and how rhetorical devices exist in the world. The discussion after the game led to a discussion board where students noted rhetorical situations. In some ways, the activity served to as an analogy to take a freezeframe and consider what we might do or say in our own rhetorical situations.
The Parking Game
The “Parking Game” OTS asks students to become consultants tasked with solving a parking dispute that ultimately leads to a call for reassessing parking designs on a campus that closely resembles BGSU. Taking active role elements from Live Action Role-Playing (LARP) and narrative pathway elements from Text-Based role-playing video games such as Your Future
Self and Emily is Away, The Parking Game centers around a combination of argumentation and proposing solutions. The game relies upon combining a surreal blend of BGSU, an identical 153 proxy of the fictional Belmont Fall University (BFU), and a series of documents their liaison provides (Figure 20).
Instruction Set
ECOC 1 (Developer). As an expansive role-play environment, students have access to
Canvas modules, journals, digital and physical BGSU spaces at large, and a module where documents appear as the fictional university provides them. Once the game begins, players may confer with their groups, research parking articles through EBSCO and other databases, collect parking information online from BGSU’s website, and visit physical spaces on campus. New spaces “unlock” as new information from Belmont Falls arrives. For example, students might work towards formulating a general argument about parking concerns when an NPC named
Marissa submits a complaint to the university and appeals a parking ticket. At this point, we have now “unlocked” the appeals section of the Parking website and SGA as researchable spaces.
ECOC 1 (Finding). Similar to the beginnings of most role-playing stories, students receive only a small portion of the whole story and begin exploring solutions to a complex set of problems. Initial formulation via research was stymied by a general bias against campus parking conditions and rules. With little researched experience, solutions came quick in form of a call to build more parking lots or multi-level parking garages. Many students were content to stop here, but the designer/instructor must, like a game master, move the narrative along and spark a sense of adventure. Fortunately, students tend to be passionate about this issue, and I found it important to acknowledge their initial solutions as a starting point rather than problemize or counter these assertions. After all, quests lose their luster when players are told exactly where to go and what to do. Instead, I inquired why more universities don’t formulate these same ideas and sent students off to bring back proof that we could take to Belmont Falls University. 154
ECOC 2 (Developer). The game asks students to construct an analysis, drafting an opinion on a parking appeal, and developing a solution as key phases of the activity. Each phase targets a different audience and requires oral and written arguments that meet the needs of the various NPCs who make their way into the activity. These NPCs include the following: Mr.
Lawson, the Belmont Falls liaison who ‘narrates’ events and answers questions; Marissa, a student appealing a parking ticket; BFU Parking Services, who represents parking and offers counterpoints to Marissa; The BFU Student Government Association, who presides over appeals and issues proposals. Each of these NPCs offer both position statements and either pose additional problems or questions for the consultants to explore.
ECOC 2 (Finding). Student groups generally begin to move in different directions, siding with different NPCs as they encounter their statements and problems. The preliminary research and the statements prompted a great deal of discussion over how to weigh evidence against the pleas. I took this moment to point out elements of forensic and deliberative rhetoric as I inquired where each group stood on the issue. Most students found the analysis relatively easy, as they could visit BGSU parking areas and found several articles about campus parking problems. They found constructing an opinion about the appeal particularly challenging because both sides presented what they considered to be sound arguments. One challenge I discovered is that many of the students wanted to interview the NPCs as an action. Although this was an excellent idea, I did not attempt to roleplay the NPCs, as I feared the students might abandon the more carefully written statements designed to demonstrate rhetorical appeals and change their course action based on an impromptu performance on my part.
ECOC 3 (Developer). Essentially, the activity centers around linked arguments that require students to confront bias and assumption, argument and counterargument, and taking a 155 position that leads to a possible solution. Students are encouraged to communicate with their groups and as a class to develop a solution. Each phase attempts acts as a sort of twist to the story that hopeful calls for revision.
ECOC 3 (Finding). Students generally communicated well during this activity. One challenge for me as the facilitator and narrator was to remind students that their personal experiences and feelings about parking can add context, but that such contexts should not necessarily sway opinion about a separate case as a separate university. Some groups had a difficult time reaching a conclusion when they sided with different NPCs. I found this both rewarding and challenging as they engaged in rhetorical communication, but they also struggled to reach consensus at times. I used this as a moment to explain how voting bodies, such as the
SGA character, face similar difficulties. The students did seem courteous to everyone’s opinions, and a few students abstained from offering an opinion. I did feel as the activity went on, many students continued to add what they learned in previous phases to continue to build a strategy, which I found successful.
ECOC 5 (Developer). The NPC characters offered a variety of letters and statements aimed a revealing something about their argument and about their character. The statements representing these characters were intentionally written to make a combination of logos, pathos, and ethos appeals. For instance, the Marissa NPC was designed to use a more “frustrated” voice, stating facts but also appealing to the consultants as fellow students. On the other hand, Parking
Services used more of a “official” voice relying on a combination of fact and ethos as a type of law enforcing body. The developer will need to decide what conventions and levels of formality to apply to each character. It’s difficult to create characters instead of caricatures or to avoid stereotypes without creating several NPCs of the same type. 156
ECOC 5 (Finding). The students seemed to engage with the letters and statements from the NPCs. I appreciate that most students took the time to carefully weigh the materials against each other. One interesting observation came from some students taking credibility away from the Marissa character because she seemed angry and “didn’t write that well” compared to the
Parking Services statement. Another interesting observation came from one group that felt what wasn’t said carried value. For example, they noted Parking Services stated what does not constitute a valid excuse for a parking violation (citing BGSU as a proxy) but offer no examples of valid excuses--a perceived bias and rhetorical way to assert Parking Services never accepts fault. In this way, I felt the way documentation was written counted as much as what the NPCs said. It became difficult at times to maintain the role of both teacher and NPC. This is to say, I hinted at what the NPC facilitator might find useful and offered recommendations for crafting documents; however, I did not try to outright correct fallacy or format issues to preserve productive failures--a discussion we had as a class after the game concluded.
ECOC 6 (Developer). Students may use the letters, statements, articles, and group generated notes as inventory items to craft their resolutions for the activity. Ideally, the students will synthesize these materials through the phases as multiple viewpoints to demonstrate critical thinking, reading, and writing. The instructor may either require students start a file to hold all of these materials or at least hint at returning to materials from previous phases to make sure source material always remains relevant for critique.
ECOC 6 (Finding). The “inventory” varied by groups. Some had conducted a great deal of online research and had several documents to evaluate. This added more content, but it also created a bit of “analysis paralysis.” Other groups didn’t keep many records and relied more upon the BFU statements. I hinted that SGA was interested in a solution that best considered all 157 parties’ viewpoints, even if the final proposal didn’t affect a particular party. Although I tried to give students the agency to make whatever moves they saw fit, I noted that it helped to drop hints at some materials they previously collected or explorable options.
Activity Theory: The Parking Game
Figure 20. The Parking Game activity sheet using Spinuzzi’s activity system.
Wrapper
“The Parking Game” introduces Belmont Falls University (BFU) as a midsize school with a major parking problem. Due to a growing student population and infrastructure limitations, tensions around parking have reached an all-time high. As BFU has nearly an identical design to BGSU, they have decided to call in consultants from BGSU as advisors. As
BFU’s story progresses, new problems arise in the form of a student complaint, and plan must be met before the Student Government Association must make their recommendations to the university. 158
Principles of Play
Game-based writing identity. Part of the reason for using a fictional university such as
BFU is to help develop a buffer zone between the specific logistics and rules of the home university, to hopefully reduce bias, and to allow for creative liberties in creating NPCs. Some discussion of the consultant role assisted in framing the work as helping BFU find solutions considerate of all viewpoints. Part of phase 1 works to shift the mindset of the BGSU student to outside consultant.
Ludus. To students, the premise of the activity seems simple: fix a parking problem for a midsize university; however, the game uses three phases that challenge students to explore rhetorical situation as a writer and researcher. Phase one involves an open discussion of parking at BGSU as a starting point for ideation. This is also a good space to discuss bias and how rudimentary solutions aren’t always feasible. In the beginning, many students quickly placed blame on the university. Most students perceived the university had a blank check to build several multilevel parking structures, purchase surrounding land, and relocate buildings at will.
Such vented feelings were not challenged, but instead put on the board as researchable possibilities. Students are directed to EBSCO and the university library to research how other universities encounter parking problems. As they being to develop some preliminary research, phase two suddenly introduces an upset BFU student who has appealed a series of parking tickets. The consultants enter a situation laden with rhetorical appeals via statements from the student and Parking Services. For example, Marissa serves as an NPC at BFU who has just left work and dashes toward campus. She has a parking permit but could not find a space after searching several lots. Due to inclement weather and fearful of breaking her instructor’s strict tardy rule, Marissa takes a metered spot. She returns five minutes late, in the rain, to discover 159 she’s been ticketed. After some investigation, she discovers the university has sold more parking permits than spaces available (a common practice). The Marissa character raises many logos, pathos, and ethos questions relatable to many BGSU students. The Parking Services NPC, however, utilizes a strict set of parking regulations designed to maintain parking order. BFU’s
SGA asks the consultants to offer their opinion and then to come up with a plausible solution to help with the parking situation.
Paidia. Students remain free to discuss and make their own recommendations within their groups, but the instructor/facilitator should take care to emphasize the value of recognizing biased opposing viewpoints in phase one. In phase two, the instructor may draft the student and
Parking Service statements as they wish, but I did so with a strong attention to using logos, pathos, and ethos appeals. This may also serve as a moment to pay attention to students’ comments and discussions as elements to incorporate into these letters. As much as possible, I tried not to point to a clear “winner” in the argument. If needed, the instructor might be able to ask those who regularly hear parking appeals to get ideas about complicated situations where the decision could have gone either way. Part of the reason to narrow and focus in phase two is to present a more contextualized lead-in to phase three. Phase three in many ways returns to fixing the problem, though students might be more experienced by this point. In my class, we discussed how it seems big problems work as a large puzzle with many small pieces. This may help each group pitch a small pilot project for BFU to consider. If needed, the instructor may have BFU and SGA ask for a proposed solution. Additionally, I took advantage of using a fictional university to give the SGA more institutional power than they might have in an actual university.
I found this body’s dual identity as both students and administrators made for a good 160 intermediary in this project. In these ways, the game may require a bit more role-playing and playing with roles.
Metacognition. Much of the discussion following the parking game revolved around how research, analysis, rhetoric, and bias all play a role in understanding how to analyze various positions. This also served as a good moment to approach habits of mind such as openness, creativity, and flexibility in an experiential way. Some students noted the experiences made them more open and fairer in assessing problems. Others noted they still struggled to see outside viewpoints, but they were more willing to do research before making conclusions.
Surveyed Analysis
Throughout the semester, three surveys were given to get a better sense of how students felt their experiences with the OTS prototypes coordinated with their work and learning in the class. Although most students actively participated in class, not all students elected to participate in the voluntary surveys.
GSW 1110-2025
Participants. Survey 1 contained eleven participants, seven identifying as female and four identifying as male. Six females identify as Caucasian and one female identifies as African
American. All four males identify as Caucasian. All respondents were 18-20 years of age.
Survey 2 contained five participants, three identifying as female and two identifying as male. All three females identify as Caucasian. Both males identify as Caucasian. All respondents were 18-
20 years of age. Survey 3 contained seven participants, five identifying as female and two identifying as male. Four females identify as Caucasian and one female. Both males identify as
161
Caucasian. One respondent did not indicate a racial/ethnicity answer. All respondents were 18-20 years of age.
GSW 1110-2031
Participants. Survey 1 contained eleven participants, seven identifying as female and four identifying as male. Four females identify as Caucasian, one female identifies as
Multiracial, one female identifies as Hispanic, and one female identifies as Asian. All four males identify as Caucasian. All respondents were 18-20 years of age. Survey 2 contained nine participants, five identifying as female and four identifying as male. Four females identify as
Caucasian and one female identifies as Asian. All four males identify as Caucasian. All respondents were 18-20 years of age. Survey 3 contained eight participants, three identifying as female and five identifying as male. All three females identify as Caucasian. All five males identify as Caucasian. All respondents were 18-20 years of age. 162
GSW 1110-2025 Survey 1 GSW 1110-2025 Survey 2 GSW 1110-2025 Survey 3
Figure 21. Data sets of three periodic surveys from GSW 1110-2025 measuring student responses to OTS at roughly the beginning, mid-term, and end of semester.
GSW 1110-2031 Survey 1 GSW 1110-2031 Survey 2 GSW 1110-2031 Survey 3
Figure 22.. Data sets of three periodic surveys from GSW 1110-2031 measuring student responses to OTS at roughly the beginning, mid-term, and end of semester. 163
In assessing the overall impact of OTS prototypes, the general trend seems positive; however, each course section demonstrates different values when approaching OTS. For GSW
2025, exploring new concepts, reflecting, and better understanding their writing became most impactful. On the other hand, they felt least impacted by the OTS activities’ ability to instill confidence and reach course goals in the beginning. The trend points to some gains in these areas, but it is difficult to truly assess due to attrition. One participant did not feel the OTS helped with any of these categories and either “disagreed” or “strongly disagreed” with all categories. Participant 18 and Participant 87 completed all three surveys. These two survey sets allow for the only complete cross-sections of the survey data. Participant 18 moved from
“neither agree nor disagree” to “agree” on both exploring new ideas and understanding course goals through OTS over course of the surveys. All other categories remained the same from
Survey 1 to Survey 3. Participant 87 indicated an increase from “neither agree nor disagree” in reflecting from Survey 1 to Survey 2, but then returned to “neither agree nor disagree” in this category for Survey 3.
The 2031 course section seemed to value understanding concepts, confidence, and reflection as impactful elements of the OTS prototypes. The overall trend indicates a positive view of the OTS prototypes across all three surveys, but it is hard to determine how attrition may have affected these results. In Survey 1, two respondents viewed the OTS as more negative than positive. This number fell to a single respondent on Survey 2 and Survey 3. Participants 09, 14, and 27 completed all three surveys. Participant 09 moved from “agree” in confidence on Survey
1 to “neither agree nor disagree” on Survey 2 and Survey 3 and understanding self as a writer through OTS moved from “neither agree nor disagree” on Survey 1 to “agree” on Survey 2 and
Survey 3. Participant 14 moved from “agree” in all categories on Survey 1 to “strongly agree” on 164 all categories in Survey 2 and Survey 3. Participant 27 moved from “disagree” on Survey 1 to
“neither agree nor disagree” on Survey 2 and to “Strongly” disagree on Survey 3 for exploring new ideas, and moved from “strongly disagree” on understanding learning outcomes in Survey 1 to “agree” on Survey 2 and to “strongly disagree” on Survey 3.
The classroom environment in GSW 1110-2025/1110-2031… a. Is interactive, highly engaging, and allows me to explore my writing in new and positive ways b. Is interactive, but does not allow me to explore my writing. c. Is not interactive and does allow me to explore my writing d. Is not interactive and does not allow me to explore my writing in positive ways e. Table 1. Survey questions regarding classroom environment in GSW 1110-2025 GSW 1110-2025 Choice A Choice B Choice C Choice D Survey/Choice Survey 1 9 1 1 0 Survey 2 5 0 0 0 Survey 3 5 2 0 0
Table 2. Survey questions regarding classroom environment in GSW 1110-2031 GSW 1110-2031 Choice A Choice B Choice C Choice D Survey/Choice Survey 1 9 2 0 0 Survey 2 7 2 0 0 Survey 3 8 0 0 0
The classroom environment questions aim to understand if the space is conducive to interactivity and exploration. For the most part, it seems students tend to have a positive takeaway from utilizing these activities in the class. On goal with OTS as an augmentation was to draw some congruent lines between play and writing as engaging and exploratory in addressing the research questions presented in this study.
When it comes approaching problems/assignments, I prefer this model…
a. Start with goals, identify problem, gather information
b. Start with problem, identify goals, gather information
c. Start by gathering information, identify problem, identify goals 165
d. Start with goals, gather information, identify problems
Table 3. Surveyed responses to students’ preferred learning style in GSW 1110-2025
GSW 1110-2025 Choice A Choice B Choice C Choice D Survey/Choice Survey 1 0 5 3 0 Survey 2 0 1 1 2 Survey 3 1 4 1 1
Table 4. Surveyed responses to students’ preferred learning style in GSW 1110-2031 GSW 1110-2031 Choice A Choice B Choice C Choice D Survey/Choice Survey 1 0 6 3 2 Survey 2 0 7 2 0 Survey 3 1 6 1 0
This question attempted to get a better understanding of how to relate OTS approaches with ways students prefer to approach assignments. Most students chose answer B. Remarkably, this evidence supports the game-based approach that begins with a problem, assesses goals, and then engages in discovery, often on-time and on-demand. Additionally, this deviates from some traditional processes students, or curriculum, might envision such as read (information), test/essay (problem), grade (goal), or desire a grade (goal), read (information), write essay
(problem). This question allowed students in the courses examined to share how they might like to approach learning and to determine if GBL might be conducive to the work and designs for this FYC course. Even though the question avoids using the words “games” or “play,” the results seem to suggest the process of play aligns with a desired process of problems/assignments.
Mapping Values
One key element of site-specific design and development revolves around understanding what students value from activities in contact with what the instructor/designer values. Students noted the OTS activities stood out the most, with the “Gumshoe” game as the most popular.
Respondents most frequently use the terms engaging, interactive, and collaborative as reason 166 why OTS stood out the most. Other less frequent terms used more than once include fun and bonding.
Using classroom Dynamic Criteria Mapping, students felt the class and teacher valued the following terms: collaboration, communication, rhetoric, thesis, format, and passives. I put a lot of thought into how the instruction set, PoP, and activity might play towards collaboration, communication, and rhetoric. I believe these demonstrate some success as the students felt an overall alignment with these values. The OTS did not put much consideration into specific production of “essays” that work towards thesis and format. This might indicate a possible patch to OTS activities to support this value. Additionally, I may need to consider my bias against passives, as I did not intend that term to draw such reverence in the mapping process.
Limitations
This study has revealed some useful data for the teacher/developer and teacher/researcher, but it still has several key limitations. First, the study examined two assigned courses, making selection random. All of the participants in this study represent traditional first- year students fluent in English. Although diversity can take many forms, most of the students in the study identified as Caucasian. Second, accessibility questions remain, as these factors did not arise in a testable environment. Finally, the sections in this study merit their own identity, as each person involved brought a uniqueness to the class that cannot be classified replicable or even holistically representational. I firmly believe the observations and data presented here are a starting point to more longitudinal work rather than a point of closure on the topic. 167
Critical Assessment and Conclusion
The OTS prototypes offer an interesting entry point into many possible designs that both meet curricular needs. The mystery games prove the most successful, possibly because of their highly collaborative and engaging approach. Initially, I feared students might consider these mysteries too farfetched or even childish in nature, but students from both classes favored the game and conversation that followed. The “In the Field” and “Helping Vinny” OTS activities also seemed to keep most students engaged in a way that spoke to course and project goals.
Having experienced the protypes along with my students, I can see the need for some modifications and patches. It was hard for some students to immerse into play, as some noted that it starkly differed from a class more centered on lectures and essays. For some, the work felt a little like double duty and wanted the OTS to replace the actual assignments. For example, some students particularly liked “In the Field” and became invested enough in the activity that they wanted to do the article for the project rather than the literacy narrative. For some of those engaged in the OTS, leaving the actual work conducted in the activity after its conclusion may have seemed like a missed opportunity to further develop the content for the class, or even for a grade. I empathized with them as co-producers and ended up allowing them to refashion a product from the OTS into a multimodal project so long as it fit a course objective. Some re- envisioned the “In the Field” article, and one student submitted a game aimed at teaching rhetorical analysis, for example. Consequently, I believe the instruction set and PoP offers strong functionality, but the OTS themselves might see future iterations and lead to future implications as chapter five will discuss. Much in the same way as Pocketwatch tweaks and tunes their way forward, reaching a proof of concept begins with experimenting designs, and this chapters have hopefully served as a sort of embedded notebook that invites data as a rough guide, if not an 168 inviting toolbox. Chapter 5 will explore further interpretations to these findings, as well as limitations, implications, and future directions for the networks of interactions--the PoP development kit laid out in this study. 169
CHAPTER 5: GOING SILVER: LAUNCHING A NETWORK OF INTERACTION
In the world of software development, “Going Silver” defines a program selected as a release candidate, a functional design that has taken both time and testing but may still contain glitches or need fixes before release to manufacturers. And even when the design operates, it may take a great deal of time, effort, and belief to move into any mainstream market. For example, Blizzard’s Diablo III first went into development in late 2000 following the release of
Diablo II, was officially announced on June 28, 2008 (aka Silver), and finally released for manufacture on May 15, 2012. The game remains a commercial success, frequently landing in the top 10 best-selling video game lists with some 30,000,000 copies sold. What might be interesting to the teacher/designer is that the process of “Going Silver” and the subsequent struggles Diablo III experienced to get to such status example mimics much of the work in this study.
Beta Updated: A Summary of Findings
Overall, the data seems to positively support the design processes and prototypes described in the study. In approaching the question of “how” Game-Based Learning (GBL) might work in a First-Year Composition (FYC) course, the study necessarily needed to focus on application and praxis. Gathering data required an apparatus that, by nature and mechanisms, understands data as enacted, embodied, and fluctuating between paper, physical, virtual, and
“real” spaces. The findings paint a picture of progress towards answering the research questions and creating a functional development kit, though it is an imperfect one with opportunities for improvement. 170
Feasibility of Development
In order to determine if the theoretical premise for the designs used in this study held some praxis-oriented viability, feasibility for both students and instructors became a primary concern. With respect to the students in the study, survey data indicates many students are receptive to a problem-based approach like those used by games. Additionally, students frequently noted positives of the OTS as engaging, interactive, and collaborative. Such findings don’t attempt to confuse feasibility with desirability, but they offer a framing of games and play as an immersive model for problem-based learning. For instructors, the study moves beyond simply importing manufactured games into the classroom and presents the teacher as a capable developer with a set of PoP tools such as the instruction set, wrapper, and activity to craft their own GBL activities. Using these Principles of Play and GBL philosophies, the study offers an ethnographic exploration of the process: developing an instruction set from outcomes, developing a wrapper, and integrating a system of functions to explore agency and test activity.
The study then offers prototypes made from such practices and offers feedback as to how students at Bowling Green State University responded, and contributed, to some possible designs created from this development kit. The ultimate goal of the study fashions a developer guide, rather than a manual, to offer one possible “how” to develop thoughtful immersive GBL designs.
Prototypes and Designs
This pilot study offers four different prototypes aimed at various video game aspects and approaches to FYC assignments. The protypes used aimed at the following designs for testing:
1). Executable designs that squarely show how theory moves towards practice as laid out in
Chapter 1 and Chapter 2. Each prototype labeled as an “OTS” attempted to use the theories and definitions given to contextualize a usable construct. In many cases, the use of games either 171 relies upon bringing in previously existing games or retrofitting an activity to meet the needs of an assignment--that is, using a commercial game created by some outside source. The prototypes in this study attempted to offer some philosophies such as GBL and PoP with the hope that teachers can develop their own versions of play from these constructs. As such, it realizes the prototypes in this study aren’t universal, or commercialized, in the sense that they will not necessarily work in a holistic way everywhere and for every occasion; however, I believe the study demonstrates that creating fruitful designs are possible with this development kit, rather created entirely by the teacher such as the “Parking Game” or through using the devices to modify play as in the case of the “Gumshoe” game.
2). Conceptual frameworks demonstrating how PoP, activity, and GBL gains physicality in tethering outcomes to functions of play (ECOC to GBL instruction set in this study and then to assembly of a “game” through PoP, wrapper, and activity). This study offered a mechanical and procedural protocol for how the designs and tools worked to create the prototypes; moreover, they were demonstrated in practice for FYC courses at BGSU, and the overall data shows many students responded favorably to these prototypes. This sets forth, at least to some degree, a feasible design structure with beta-level feedback from the end-user (students). The teacher designer may develop an instruction set, apply PoP elements, wrapper, and develop/test through activity. Regardless, this system makes no assertions that this approach is “the way,” or that it even triumphs over any other way, but it does deliver on providing insights into the moving part of how these networks of interaction between design and play work moved towards praxis in an
FYC course.
3). Move beyond the “shininess” often associated with high tech games to illicit data on development tools rather than focusing on the wrapper. One paradox in GBL, or gamification, 172 applications in academics often comes from the expectation that philosophies surrounding video games will necessarily lead to the creation of a commercial looking video game (or high-tech tool) set alongside the expectation that only a small number of teachers will have the programming skills to create such a tool. This study will offer some variability of design for those wishing to take a higher tech route but focusing on the production value of the wrapper was far less important than reaching out to a wide array of teachers who may be interested in examining how to use this type of play in their courses. In fact, many budding video and board game designers start small, building upon their designs as they become more experienced with their development procedures. This study hopes to allow the novice to tinker and the expert to modify, or even advance upon the ideas given.
Additionally, there is often the notion that immersive play requires students to adapt to the wrapper--to assume a typified video game character as in the case of Classcraft. In such cases, the academic work is made to fit the fictitious world of the game. The wrapper in the prototypes for this story does the opposite. However fanciful the notion of playing a reporter or detective might be, the wrapper always anchored itself to experiential learning that assisted a concurrent project/assignment in the course.
Interface and Usability
Interfacing with these prototypes was an important issue to consider from a development standpoint because it considers how students might respond to designs and what they can do within them. In this study, the interface design was admittedly rudimentary in nature. Students used basic items such as links in Canvas as spaces and tools, notecards as warrants, slides as
NPC directives, and a few handouts as communications from NPCs to interface with the “game world.” Although I considered making several of these items more realistic via software such as 173 those found in the Abode suite, I elected to use more low-tech tools to evaluate how the prototypes worked at a base level. Although such a decision leaves the work vulnerable to the question of what would have happened if the interface was more visually stimulating, extensive design work using computer software or work requiring high technological proficiency may have alienated those who don’t have or wish to use these skills. Most students in this study were willing to suspend disbelief enough to make them work.
Usability examines how the students and developer were able to use the prototypes, or specifically the “controls” of the design. Students could use the given materials to interact with the designs as most play required using links, visiting spaces, taking notes, word processing, and oral communication. Some foregrounding was required to explain how to specific artifacts such as the clues in the “Gumshoe” game or characters sheets in the “Helping Vinny” game. The two usability issues that arose around came in the form of contextualization and agency. I offered a brief introduction to the game, describing a brief problem and the goals of the activity; however, a more comprehensive background in terms of a backstory or introduction may have helped contextualize the world and how to interact with it. For example, World of Warcraft has been explored in many academic studies, and I suspect the often-overlooked intro provided below offers an adequate example of setting the stage for usability. At first glance, it appears as just a short action sequence to set the stage for an epic fantasy; however, a more intuitive analysis reveals a great deal of information about the world and what players can do. We get a sense of the features of the world, the characters with their abilities, what they each can do within the world, and even insights into their communities and cultures (notice background setting and attire). We also get an immediate sense of the history, the connections and “tenuous” disconnections, and how characters might expect to interact with one another. Moreover, if we 174 pay attention to the comments by viewers, we notice they trigger moments of reflection. Offering a more intuitive written, oral, and/or visual intro to these prototypes may help students better understand the world and mode of play.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vlVSJ0AvZe0
In these prototypes, the Principles of Play elements proved highly valuable in terms of usability, particularly with regards to paidia. For development purposes, the ability to adjust play within the prototypes helped manage course goals student actions, reactions, and interactions to meet the needs of the moment. Without this element, the original rules or an inflexible stance on the rules might have hindered teachable moments or the ability for students to develop alternative solutions. In some ways, this nods to the style Reacting to the Past (RTTP)gaming promotes, but advances paidia and ludus by allowing flexibility in individual identity (avatara) and “win” states.
For example, RTTP places students in the role of real historical figures such as those in the Revolutionary War and uses historical documents and text as tools. The students must take on the role of characters, say Alexander Hamilton or Henry Clinton, and engage in debates or actions in an attempt to win for their faction in the game. Paidia is greatly limited by ludus. The rules declare students must do, say, and act as their historical persona would. Problematically this raises several problematic questions. Can a student, or even a professor, truly know how to think, do, say, and act as Hamilton or Clinton might in any given conversation? What if the
George Washington, Ben Franklin, and Alexander Hamilton characters decide to defect to the
British early in the game due to a compelling argument? Does the teacher “correct” the students to preserve the game, and if so, does such a move punish the British players for particularly clever play? If students strictly stick to the script, the forgone conclusion is that the Patriots will 175 always win, and if the British should win the scenario, some rule infraction will have occurred since some player did not act exactly as their character would have to repeat what really happened.
This analysis is not intended to diminish RTTP but rather to illustrate why including paidia into the “engine” of the prototypes in this study becomes valuable. Players may be themselves and something else at the same times, allowing for evolution of play and the rules.
For example, when the GSW 1110-2025 gumshoe players disbanded their small groups to form one large group, the game was flexible enough that this “hack” still allowed for rules but did not restrict agency to preserve the game. Similarly, students wanted to interview NPCs from the
Parking game, even though these were not available as part of the activity. As a designer with paidia in mind, I was able to simulate or roleplay what the NPCs might say under the circumstances and allow players to affect play. Moreover, I may now expand the prototype by adding interviews based on my student co-producers’ input. I believe these sorts of interactions help develop the interface and usability.
Feedback Mechanisms and Co-Production
Student/players offered feedback and co-production either by action, reflective commentary, or through survey data. As prototypes, the designs allowed me to see what players might do or say to determine how they encountered play and transferred course goals. As a situated study focusing on two course sections, the four prototypes used revealed an overall interest in engaging with this sort of play, and even an interest in making it better through their input. Additionally, discussion board posts seemed to point towards the goals of the course, whether it be focusing on reflection, understanding discourse communities, or experiencing critical thinking and risk-taking in new, different, or even as some noted, “strange but good” 176 ways. It is also in moments of experience where learning and feedback where both the student and teacher co-produce. For example, this excerpt from the student in Chapter 4 reveals some opportunity to grow the activity:
…It was almost as if they were trying to create stepping stones to make their
theories make sense. This created challenges for our group because it led us to
discuss these fake clues instead of figuring out the actual crime…This allowed us
to formulate an idea of what had happened before getting together with other
groups. I believe these strategies worked out really well for our group! It allowed
us to have a better understanding of what was going on.
As a teacher/designer, this student has mined content areas such as synthesis, dissemination of fact versus opinion, viewpoint, fallacy, bias, brainstorming, and critical thinking within groups as material to further develop the prototype. Another evolution of the prototype might then be to include a character who uses many fallacies or create a game-related tool to convey a process for brainstorming. I might have even acquired a new idea for a GSW 1120 game about researchers who draw conclusions solely based on theories. Additionally, I can witness and examine such comments as a way to improve play based on activity. For this student’s group, a bind in community and artifacts (false clues) from linked activity systems prevented them from mediating the activity towards their warrant (object); however, the group was able to examine isolate own activity system’s artifacts and set forth a procedure (labors) to refine their process before connecting with other groups and their activity systems to learn more information.
Learning and observing such actions in play allows me to not only consider how I might incorporate this observation into future play as a designer, but to also use such moments as 177 experiential talking points hopefully useful to the student, player, writer, future professional, and citizen roles each student links to many of their present or future activities.
Limitations and Staving off Blue Screens and Red Rings
Although I believe this pilot study holds promise, it not without a number of limitations that must be acknowledged in order to move towards improvement. In the spirit of “going silver,” the hindrances of design or functionality are helpful because they intend to bring many hands to the workbench to fix and patch, rather than attack or scrap the beta project. In fact, healthy criticism can often lead to inspiration and better design.
Scope of the Study
This project closely analyzed First Year Composition (FYC) courses at Bowling Green
State University (BGSU) as situated and relayable study. It does not, and should not, make assumptions about the ideology, processes, and cultures of any other FYC program at any other university. Certainly, other teachers are welcome to adapt and use these concepts, but they may have to put forward some due diligence in augmenting it to their work. Additionally, the concepts in this study are neither used throughout BGSU’s writing program, nor are they endorsed by the department or any other instructor. The propagation of this work may require a more longitudinal study in order to better understand its workings, with the possibility that some or many changes may be needed for a broader base to significantly use.
Population
Instructors in FYC rarely, if at all, have the ability to choose their students. Although I strongly defend the fact that every class brings their own unique identity, on a demographic level, most students were relatively similar in many ways. For instance, all of the participants 178 were 18-24 years old and proficient in spoken English. Most identified as Caucasian and came into the course as traditional first-year students. Although the surveys provided interesting data, the best response rate from either class only accounted for about half of the class, even though all students participated in the OTS. Individual interviews or a focus group might have offered some additional feedback, but ultimately did not become a part of this study.
Additionally, none of the students in course reported any disabilities that prevented communication or restrictive mobility. Certainly, ableism is a concern with play, and I did not know the circumstances of any student who might enter my class before the study began.
Because of this awareness, I communicated with Michael Wesch (2018) who has for many years earned accolades for using play in his courses. He notes:
On Ableism. I'm a big fan of Universal Design for Learning and generally try to create
as many avenues toward participation as possible in any play environment. I've missed
the mark a few times, but I learned from those mistakes and the games/experiences were
better for it. The response to skeptics is to point out the importance of embodiment and
practice in the process of learning. As teachers we need to be aware that the bodies of
embodiment come in many different forms and account for that.
The designs used in this course configured ways to embody the roles of a reporter, detective, consultant, or any other OTS scenario; however, I do believe more studies that involve greater populations will improve overall effectiveness via feedback and modification.
Player Desire/Expectation
One of the top questions that gets asked revolves around what to do or say when a student entering the class doesn’t like games. Certainly, I had a few students in the GSW courses during 179 this study who had bad experiences with games or simply didn’t like them. One student had to play Minecraft as part of a high school requirement and found it to be an unproductive waste of time. Another student just didn’t like games and gave no other reason. No philosophy, however well intended, will connect with all students, but there are some points of interest with this limitation.
First, I tried to avoid using the term “game,” as it naturally seemed to conjure up deeply embedded cultural references. I would argue in many cases that what some call activities, simulations, icebreakers, or interactive case studies are essentially games re-branded to be more palatable for the serious work of academics. Most students in my study simply called these
“OTS” and never lamented that they were games. Also, I always tied play to the work they were doing in class, and so I felt at least some level of buy-in existed. Even some of those who didn’t necessarily like games appreciated the activity of “play” over pure lecture.
Second, we must consider the fact that some students might not like writing any more than games. If turnabout is fair play, what do we tell students entering the class who don’t like writing, or a certain writing pedagogy? Some writing instructors or administrators who are skeptical of games or gaming theory may not necessarily like to bear the brunt of their own line of questioning, but it is just as fair of a question, and it does present the opportunity to find some alignment. Chances are we won’t win students or skeptics of our own theories over with a simple answer, but we might explain the value of trying new perspectives, not basing future experiences solely on past experiences, using writing as a way to learn something about ourselves and the world in the process, and to critically examine problems in personal and collaborative ways.
These are just a few possible answers, but I think in many ways it gets at a point-- that games can offer the same sort of answers that writing teachers might offer about writing or about how 180 students might receive their approaches. If we can dispel initial interest alone as the way by which games might become “othered” from classroom practice, some opportunity exists to openly learn more about play and to think more about how to use these tools, or why others might use them. Nevertheless, the writing instructors who adore games and the writing instructors who abhor them will find solidarity in the fact that they cannot win over every student’s interest even through the noblest exertions provided by their approaches.
As a final note, a number of students who entered the class noted that they came from high school classrooms that primarily focused on lecture and essay writing. The transition to a class that used more activities and play may have come off as different, or even “strange” to some students. One possible detriment to the type of work explored in this study comes from encultured or previously experienced ideas about what writing is, or about what it should look like and be like. This is to say those who understood writing classes as a read, lecture, write essay process may be at first be confused or unsure how to approach a writing class that doesn’t conform to the practices they might have experienced before. Some of this may be offset early in the semester by explaining games or “activities” will be used to explore writing concepts.
After activities, we always had discussion, and I posed questions that allowed students to direct the conversation about their experiences while in the OTS and the project goals of the course.
My experience during this study is that most students were willing to explore these activities if they thought it may assist in their understanding of course needs, and the OTS was geared toward project concepts. Additionally, I often send my students a welcome letter once I receive my roster where I offer a little information about the class, including some of the expectations, projects, and GBL activities. These activities are also posted on the syllabus, and I frame the use of these immersive activities on the first day of class with the opportunity to ask any questions 181 the students might have. Although I believe some students may not ever truly align with the idea of play in school, I also believe offering transparent and upfront conversations about using these tools may help those unfamiliar with such practices know what to expect, and even provide an opportunity to contribute.
Time and Technology
Thoughtful preparation of the prototypes offered in this study took a great deal of time and effort to assemble. This is not to say creating from these development tools has to be laborious by nature, but my work in this study required the creation of the development tools themselves and the initial prototypes, along with proposing and approval to even begin assembly. Although I was able to create the prototypes, more time might have afforded the ability to better flesh out materials. With more time, I might have tried to conduct interviews from students in the course and possibly from instructors across campus to learn more about how, or if, they used play.
Additionally, I wanted to be considerate of those who may not have the same technological affordances. This often meant not using higher tech tools to create video, audio, or more highly realistic documents. Even my classroom worked as a form of technology. The lab was fully furnished with Macintosh computers and large projector screen, making it easy to display videos or direct students to online spaces used during play. Classrooms without these resources may need to consider non-digital modifications for their own needs.
None of the limitations in this study point to the blue screen metaphor of a total crash or the red ring indicating system failure, but they do leave the possibility for a larger and more in- depth examination. And as the teacher researcher for these sections, I cannot be entirely sure of 182 how other teachers or courses might use the ideas presented herein. But it is perhaps these sorts of observations and limitations that will help the study grow or even draw in other researchers to carry on the work.
Prototype Enhancements
Those interested in immersive designs may find the current prototypes sufficient for their needs, but some instructors may wish for additional input on possible low-tech and/or higher- tech modifications. Much of the limitations depend on one’s imagination and technical abilities.
The following modifications examine possible changes that I might encourage for future development.
Narrative/Introduction
When using these prototypes, an emphasis was placed on development that explored action and activity within play, often letting the story unfold as the activity progressed. In many cases, the students would join in on crafting the world and story to some degree; however, the introduction and backstory to such games often seemed sparse. Indeed, a lot of classroom games or activities may simply begin with a five minute or so introduction and discussion of rules that lead quickly lead into play. This may well suffice for more easy icebreaker games or quiz play such as Jeopardy, but immersive games that signal more complex roles and objectives may benefit from a similar foregrounding that popular video games use. Games such as The Last of
Us, Half-Life 2, Uncharted 2, and World of Warcraft all pay careful attention to how and why they immerse their players.
If games are about players taking action, then why would developers spend so much time and resources on the introduction? It is a form of persuasion in and of itself, a call to suspend 183 disbelief and outside distraction in order to immerse in the contextual world of the game. In The
Last of Us intro below, players are introduced to a normal world that suddenly upends into the beginnings of horrific adventure; however, what’s most interesting about this intro is not the genre but rather its ability to situate character, events, and place as important to the player. After a sixteen-minute intro, the title screen appears and play officially begins. The point isn’t that long introductions yield more value, but instead that those involving multifaceted ways to learn what to press, how to move, ways to interact with the story may just be worth the time.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ecpQ_WUqKUM
Academics also allow for some foregrounding of introduction into play. Many of the
RTTP games take some eight weeks to work through with a myriad of readings and writing to set the stage. Michael Wesch’s World Simulation game see students building a world for most of the semester and playing through it in a single session or two. Most writing teachers may not have the luxury or desire to invest as much time in a single project, but spending some time to flesh out the introductions to play can become as valuable as opening discussion for a chapter or writing project.
For example, a low-tech second iteration of “In the Field” might begin with a packet including a letter from the Chair of the English department calling for the formation of a committee to bring greater writing awareness to campus, a set of notes from the NPC committee members to develop Writing_Spaces, and a memo asking the class to not only pilot several articles, but to also help in thinking about ways students can purposefully reach other students through their experience. These might take some time to develop, but I believe they help situate students as part of developing the story rather than just carrying out a writing task. Additionally, it may contextualize the purpose of the activity and allow for more paidia in creating the articles. 184
Higher-tech applications might include visual presentations whereby the instructor lays out the problem and the needs analysis, displaying the campus map as the “world,” pictures and videos of the campus or writing department, and a set of problems and goals. Universities with highly interactive virtual tours might even be able to use these interactive starting points.
The “Gumshoe” games might begin by having students set up their individual detective agency, developing them as a discreet community, only be interrupted use by a mock newspaper article or announcement that the first crime has taken place. For a more technological build, the teacher might create audio recordings, using filters to make the voice sound like a broadcast or police radio. The instructor might also make maps or pictures of characters as immersive tools.
The teacher might also add or roleplay other characters--or in vein of The Resistance, have students take on these roles of various characters and introduce themselves as the narrative begins.
“Helping Vinny” is a more linear style of play, as it follows a film, but some backstory and subsequent introduction about the characters’ lives before the film begins may help set the tone. Also, students might be assigned characters and help build this narrative as the intro begins.
Games such as Fiasco offer players character traits, items, motivations, and relationships as beginning criteria to set up a highly interactive story even before the game begins. This sort of introduction might allow the character sheets to make more sense right away and set the tone for the style of play. Certainly, those with great technological skill could even film their own mini documentary games and include cutaways to questions or a different interfaces either between scenes or directing students towards scenes. For example, Fort McMoney serves a popular and highly produced documentary game that allows player to navigate through a film and make impactful decisions.
185
Because the” Parking Game” occurs at a fictitious university, the introduction may be highly modified. In these sorts of “fake” worlds, the designer could develop low-tech intro elements such as Belmont Falls University (BFU) literature, rules, and a series of articles or conversations about parking problems. It might even begin with a campus debate in the SGA halls that leads to the players’ introduction. One possible interesting introduction might be to have player watch campus new reports about the issue or sit in a scripted Skype meeting with
BFU as they ultimately become part of the action. Such an immersive beginning to play might sound far-fetched for the classroom, but academics such as Jane McGonigal are already doing this sort of work. A World Without Oil, featured in the link below, is a prime example of such an alternate reality game that has already found success.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M-hzUGFD-Gc
Although I may not have the budget or human resources that McGonigal has, I could certainly get some volunteers and craft a short video with interviews or shots of newspaper ads.
In fact, a close watch of McGonigal’s video reveals little in the way of special effects and more in a well told story that attempts to draw the participants deeper into the problem of the well- crafted story. For instance, BGSU allows students and staff to check out video cameras and use basic editing software on campus. They even have a Collab Lab with students in order to offer technical support and tutoring for such tools. With the help of generous colleagues, students, and citizens, a similar introduction may be possible to produce with little to no budget. Certainly, other universities may not have such resources, but even a smartphone or built-in computer camera and free software like iMovie for video or Audacity for audio may offer some options to those willing to learn and grow in such practices.
186
Multimodal Interfacing Tools
When developing the prototypes for this study, I made several conscious moves to make the type of designs reasonable to approach, or even replicate, as a starting point for anyone interested. More importantly, I wanted to demonstrate the development process and tools over the individual prototypes; however, it is possible to enhance or modify these designs within the parameter of the tools. Just as the introduction can immerse players, a number of multimodal tools could help enhance the experience so long as they also serve the project or course goals at hand. One way to check this is to run them through the instruction set section of this study and consider how the modification might be used to serve the outcome.
Literature
Outside of wholly text-based games, promoting more alphabetic text might seem counterintuitive in a study largely based on video games, but game developers have long realized that the written word has substantive contributions for both contextualizing play and providing procedural cues. Often, these come as blocks of text that introduce characters and backstory, but they may also access menu screens or provide options for allowing the character to make a choice. For instance, I might have created minutes and notes from members at a Writing Spaces meeting, story leads about possible spaces from anonymous NPCs, or feedback from the editors that point to new problems or refinements that offer the option to choose a particular direction.
From the instruction set point of view, these improvements work because they target functions relatable to synthesis, analysis, and revision. Based on my students intuition to create their own suspect lists and take notes on the crimes in the Gumshoe game, I might engineer something similar to espouse the values of a research notebook, or I may expand on the slips of paper to include statements by the NPCs in the game to hint at rhetorical devices, genre, or lexis. Not only
187 might these enrich the activity built around discourse community, but they also serve as points for discussion on how contextually and procedurally a community uses specific genres, lexis, communication, processes, and participation to achieve set goals.
Aural/Visual
Sometimes adding aural and visual material may help students explore ideas and concepts not readily available in written text. In many ways, “Helping Vinny” already draws upon such aural and visual cues. Students can tell when characters use sarcasm or say something other than what they think. In some cases, visual cues in the environment such as chickens roaming around the “Sack-O-Suds” convenience store or an artifact such as Vinny’s suit or Mona Lisa’s photographs offer evidence. The original prototype asked students to analyze their character and make probable choices their character may use to argue for their position. Taking cues from several students who wanted to stay true to the character’s voice, an aural/visual component to the activity might be to have the groups draft out, and read, a new scene using said rhetorical devices, or they might create some new visual clue that a character might find and use in court.
Additionally, the Parking Game might become enhanced by sketching up BFU’s campus map and parking lots. Before the activity starts, I might get a volunteer or two to play the upset student or Parking Service attendant and record an audio or video interview of them stating their position. Students may then have access to explore how tone, voice, inflection, oral communication, and visual cues add or takes away from an argument.
Gestural
In most of the protypes used, the gestural modality allowed players to move about the room, use their bodies to communicate, and to witness the interplay of how time, space, and
188 language dictated choices and action. Although students did quite a bit of movement, it’s important to remember gesture isn’t also a result of individual motor functions such as running or jumping. For instance, some groups in the Gumshoe game made visible gestures by closing themselves off to outside visitors, by choosing to send an ambassador rather than hosting whole group meetings, by nonverbal communication to signal information to their teammates in the presence of who they considered outsiders, or by pointing to and arranging materials in ways that made sense to them. In reflecting upon both the Gumshoe and In the Field activities, I wondered what might happen if I were to supply items that promoted gesture such as dry erase markers, sticky notes, or even props relative to the game. For Helping Vinny and the Parking Game, I considered what might happen by taking a page from the Theatre of the Oppressed and inviting students to play out either original or student-generated scenes, stepping into the role of a character and trying out a rhetorical device in person. Alternatively, Montfort’s (2004) observation of Interactive Fiction (IF) through story games, Dungeons and Dragons as a prime example, might allow students to engage PCs and NPC’s in real-time or over short periods of time, such as in between class. Through this mode, the teacher and or actors directly respond to participants and events within play. For example, the BFU student might respond to a student’s question via an actor or perhaps in an email or discussion board. As a sense-maker for such play,
I might consider scripting the character or responses to how the instruction set, wrapper, and PoP would make use of the style of place. For example, I might gear the BFU student to respond by using comments or actions that trigger ECOC 1, ECOC 3, and ECOC 5 functions (instruction set) in a voice that the BFU student might use in their circumstance (wrapper) to try to persuade the groups to agree with their point in the game (ludus). The student may then respond however they wish (paidia). The player may react or even step back out of character to reflect on what
189 they know of the game itself (metacognition). Whatever the feedback, I believe the physics of the system allows for cyclic process that may help anchor IF play.
Mediating Spaces
By mediating spaces, I refer to both physical and digital locations where geography can assist in working towards an objective. The spaces, or “worlds” if we create them as such, can either be discreet or expansive, but they should have boundaries designating where play occurs and where it does not, along with the physics of the space that dictates what real or imagined actions can exist. The prototypes in this pilot study had only very narrow mediating spaces, such as the classroom and Canvas site. The only exception occurred during the “In the Field” OTS where students visited various locations around campus but were instructed not to disturb the environment or interact with anyone at these locations. For testing prototypes, this level of control helped examine spaces that might be typically available to many teachers.
Even Canvas serves as a somewhat restrictive mediating space, as the instructor may only use applications available by the system. For example, I requested the “ark” Canvas application that allows for students to comment on videos, but the request was not approved by Information
Technology, and I had to resort to timelining for comments on paper. If possible, I might consider using a free website service to develop pages that allow for text, audio, video, interactive blogs, and links as game spaces that specifically fit a game wrapper. In most cases, such a space need not require student registration or the passing of any sensitive information-- though it could be password protected, if the instructor wishes. I might also draw upon sites such as Lucidpress that allow for relatively easy drag and drop movement to create news articles, reports, fliers, or other content for such activities.
190
In terms of physical boundaries, it is important to clearly convey where play may occur and what counts as a participant. Certainly, the In the Field activity took a mild approach by simply asking the student to quietly sit, observe, and write in a space. The Gumshoe case, particularly the murder mystery for example, in the campus quad may draw unwanted attention and alarm those who are unaware of the activity. As an example of such play at the site of this study, the BG Undead organization runs a week-long event simulating the zombie apocalypse.
Students run around campus with Nerf guns blasting away at shambling zombies played by other students. The videos below show the magnitude of such an event:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pDPGRe28tUs
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GOJs75mK75w
The organization declares zone of play and uses orange vests and bands to declare participants, but the site of painted up mobs may still raise the heart rate of an unsuspecting passerby. Such expansive play has also expanded out of the classroom and into open campus spaces. The following video displays Wesch’s class participating in the Marshmallow Wars game. Although many observations might be made about this video featured earlier in this study, this particular section pays special attention to Wesch’s zoning of some 200 students as they frantically work with and against one another to complete a set of tasks.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gF2kFPNZChc
Certainly, any open campus space may require pre-approval, signage, and possibly referees, but some spaces may improve or compliment the work and the wrapper. Additionally, the sites don’t necessarily have to be grand in nature. Student groups working in small conference rooms at the library may serve as a board room for reporters; unused SGA chambers
191 may set the scene for a Helping Vinny-like mock trial exploring rhetoric or presenting a scene from the Parking Game; The Student Union or Library might work as a first In the Field activity giving students space to spread out and the teacher a close enough location to assist students one on one with narrative and observation. In some cases, even the day to day inhabitants such as a parking officer or student government ambassador of these locations might be willing to play a role. A completely fictitious space, such as BFU, can be expanded upon when a real space might create conflict or bias. As with most other enhancements, the teacher might ask what the space adds in terms of context and how the teacher can use the development kit, as we call it, to procedurally link play to learning.
A Quick Note on Enhancements
Regardless of how many ways this study attempts to frame enhancements at a combination of form and function, it is susceptible to the glittery draw of the wrapper. Two cases generally emerge. The first of these cases comes from the excited teachers who might want to initially reach for enhancements of their designs, or also build on these given enhancements with more grand ideas. I encourage and support such moves, but I also encourage forethought about taking time to explore and develop this system of design as it works best for them. Designing play for a specific site may take time, careful thought, and practice. The same is true for a novice basketball player wishing to reach the level of a Lebron James, a new coder wanting to make video games, or a teacher exploring game-based learning. Most experts of any activity recommend beginning with the fundamentals first. The same is true of the ideas in this study, and even the enhancement concepts for this study only spotlight the value of considering refinement.
Certainly, those who do have experience and/or feel comfortable with the basics of these concepts may push forward as they wish, and if they wish.
192
The second of these cases revolves around a healthy skepticism for the enhancements offered. In considering each enhancement I wondered how the design might work, what results they might bring, and what might be lost or gained with each iteration. Moreover, I pontificated how to fairly assess the ways these enhancements might work, or might not work, at various sites in order to aid others who might come across this study. Ultimately, I found this tedious process only led to conjecture about abstractions about what might or might not work in a horizonless sea of institutions that all have their own needs and cultures. All at once, the yea-sayer and nay-sayer is relegated to speak only for their situation unless they claim to own the voice of multitudes, and therein I too am bound to reassert the enchantments given speak to but one site as possibilities or springboards for others to consider. It may be through such admissions that these sorts of studies find their true strength--in the ability to relay what works for some and what doesn’t work for others as a way to collaborate, modify, and enhance designs.
Future Implications and Developments in the Field
The designs and prototypes in this study lay some groundwork to ways to consider the teacher/developer mindset, development tools that a FYC designer might utilize, and various prototypes demonstrating some basic functions of these designs in FYC courses. Although games and play have been examined and used for some time in the field, the work presented in this study critically explores praxis-oriented development for FYC applications, syncing learning goals, Principles of Play, and activity into a system for application. This prototyping of both the processes and games created establishes a starting point for wider and more intensive investigation. Teachers may begin to explore these ideas in their planning and development or find ways to productively make the system all the better for their use. As with most approaches,
193 this way doesn’t claim to be “the way,” but it may offer those interested a way to approach GBL processes.
Aside from strictly developing play as activities, the concepts and tools examined may find their way into other applications as they support the instructors needs and abilities. Although the limitations of play largely lay within the constructs of the teacher’s imagination, I can foresee some possibility through the creation of game modules, co-curricular and cross-curricular partnerships in play, and the creation of immersive texts/textbooks.
Modules
Modules may represent a single set of digital or non-digital artifacts and instructions that culminate into an executable program. Often, these modules discretely target a curricular need through exploration. The following screen shot created in RPG Maker MV comes from a prototyped module called the “Writing Portal,” designed to help students learn about various
GSW topics. The student can make a selection and their character will be transported to the level where they can play and learn (Figure 21). To some degree, these sorts of modules offer assistance to in-class work and let students engage with a given topic outside of class; however, students who don’t like games may not wish to work their way through modules such as the one example. Alternatives such as Purdue OWL or other library sources should also be discussed to offer flexibility. Additionally, it’s important to consider system requirements when developing digital modules. RPG Maker MV has relatively low system requirements, and this version was purchased through Steam for $19.99. The program has no license restrictions for produced game, and creators are not required to pay royalties or charge players for the games they create. If the designer wants to upload modules into a proprietary site such as Canvas, they may need to make sure the file fits within the upload size limits. Still, such modules offer the opportunity for
194 teachers to create some unique supplements and may even work with writing centers to co- develop modules.
Figure 23. RPG Maker Wrapper: Demonstration of a prototype of a learning module GSW 1110
Co-Curricular and Cross-Curricular Development
The development tools and concepts discussed in this study may also offer some opportunity to co-create with other students, classes, and even professionals across campus. FYC courses, especially themed FYC or Writing In the Disciplines (WID) courses such as business, communications, criminology, or even games may find great depth through simulative play geared around concepts in those courses. This development toolkit may help foster ideas and partnerships for different departments working together around projects involving rhetoric and writing. Such play can act as a low-risk sense maker between two or more instructors and their
195 students. For example, a GSW course examining visual rhetoric may partner with art students on campus. A business and writing instructor may theme a course that uses writing genres found in professional writing to create modes of productive play.
Another possibility is to bring students from other disciplines into the development phase of games as a partnership. Creative writing students might help script modules as an explorable assignment; computer science students may help develop a module or application for play in a writing course; theatre majors might volunteer or apply practicum hours to fill character roles for working prototypes. Given the opportunity, some of these partnerships may help instructors, classes, and students of several disciplines share in applying their craft.
Text/Textbooks
Over the years, textbooks have seen quite an evolution form strictly alphabetic texts to those that include compact discs, online codes, and even complete digitization with audio and video components. If games can be thought of as immersive texts, then they may offer playable learning opportunities that can be “read” and experienced at the same time. The idea is not entirely unexplored, as teachers have assigned games such as Minecraft and World of Warcraft as a sort of immersive text; however, the concepts in this study may posit the teacher/instructor as the developer rather than a retrofitter of play. Using the instruction set, wrapper, and PoP structure may allow FYC instructors some perspective to create something such as RPG Maker
MV games split into “chapters” that allow students to play through a completely video game styled text. An alphabetic text with an interactive FMV sections may also be possible with complex functions such as those found in Fort McMoney or simple choice mechanics as those found in Bear Gryll’s You vs. Wild. And certainly, a completely alphabetic text with playable
196 module instead of, or included with, exercises at the back of chapters may offer students a different way to approach their course “readings.”
Conclusion
Much like the journey of discovery many characters in video games embark upon, this pilot study explores a world full of possibilities, opportunities, and struggles. Beneath the surface of it all, the grand wrapper of the classroom and the institution, the goal of the endeavor is all about making meaningful connections--to our work, to our students and colleagues, and to learning goals that will hopefully better prepare and serve our students. And although games and play cannot promise to universally make such connections for everyone, this study hopes to offer another way of looking at the subject for those who might be interested, or even unsure, about how to consider their use for FYC courses.
Games and play will always have social-cultural implications, whether positive or negative; however, the long history of play in academia from ancient times to the modern classroom offer substantive causation to how it may move toward pedagogy and praxis in writing. The study approaches an answer by laying a mindset and methodological approach for developing play in an FYC course. What emanates from the work is sort of situated guide for establishing a development kit, a way for better or worse, to cut through perceived mysticism of games as some magical elixir and reveal the functional machinations I used to create game prototypes and facilitate play. This is a process of many moving parts, that of the developer who links learning outcomes/goals to a wrapper and PoP; a process of students as co-producers creating amongst themselves and with the teacher; a process of relaying and connected with other teachers and colleagues. The culmination of all these moving parts may at first seem
197 daunting but form a network of interaction--one that invites every reader to share, grow, and continue adding to the network.
198
REFERENCES
Against Method. [Youtube video]. Retrieved from
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZEUZ6PWzJqU&feature=youtu.be
Alberti, J. (2008). The game of reading and writing: How video games reframe our
understanding of literacy. Computers and Composition,25(3), 258-269.
doi:10.1016/j.compcom.2008.04.004
Alexander, J. (2009). Gaming, student literacies, and the composition classroom: Some
possibilities for transformation. In College Composition and Communication(1st ed., Vol.
61, pp. 35-63). CCC.
Bazerman, C. (2009). What writing does and how it does it: An introduction to analyzing texts
and textual practices. Mahwah, NJ: Erlbaum.
Blair, K., Almjeld, J., & Murphy, R. (2014). CrossCurrents: Cultures, communities,
technologies. Boston, MA: Wadsworth, Cengage Learning.
Blizzard Entertainment. (2004). World of Warcraft. [PC Game]. Irvine, CA: Blizzard
Entertainment.
Bogost, I. (2015). How to talk about videogames. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press.
Bogost, I. (2016). Play anything: the pleasure of limits, the uses of boredom, and the secret of
games. New York, NY: Basic Books
Britannica, T. E. (2018, February 14). Hydra. Retrieved from
https://www.britannica.com/topic/Hydra-Greek-mythology#ref971301 199
Broad, B. (2003). What we really value: Beyond rubrics in teaching and assessing writing.
Logan: Utah State University Press.
Broad, B. (2009). Organic writing assessment: dynamic criteria mapping in action. Logan, UT:
Utah State University Press.
Bunn, M. (2011). How to read like a writer. Writing Spaces: Reading on Writing (vol. 2) pp. 71-
86. Retrieved from https://wac.colostate.edu/books/writingspaces2/bunn--how-to-
read.pdf
Call of duty infinite warfare [Computer Software]. (2016). USA. Infinity Ward.
ChangSchool. (2018). James on Games: A conversation with james paul gee. [Youtube video].
Retrieved from https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N-cc3snVsIA&feature=youtu.be
Classcraft. (2018). Classcraft: Why use gamification in education?. Retrieved from
https://www.classcraft.com/gamification/
Cohen, L., Manion, L., & Morrison, K. (2018). Research methods in education. New York:
Routledge.
Colby, R. S., Colby R. (2008) The pedagogy of play: Integrating computer games into the
writing classroom. Computers and Composition. (25) pp. 300-312.
Colby, R., Johnson, M. S., & Colby, R. S. (2013). Rhetoric/ composition/play through video
games: reshaping theory and practice of writing. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan.
Coonradt. C. (1984) The game of work: How to enjoy work as much as play. Layton, UT: Gibbs-
Smith 200
Corbin, J. M., & Strauss, A. L. (2015). Basics of qualitative research: Techniques and
procedures for developing grounded theory. Los Angeles: SAGE.
D. P. (n.d.). Teacher Research Could Change Your Practice. Retrieved December 23, 2018, from
http://www.nea.org/tools/17289.htm
D’Angour, A. (2013). Plato and play: Taking education seriously in Ancient Greece. American
Journal of Play, 5(3), 293-307.
Darabont, F. (1994). The shawshank redemption [Motion picture]. USA: Castle Rock
Entertainment.
Devoss, D.N., Eidman-Aadahl, E., & Hicks, T. (2010). Because digital writing matters:
Improving student writing in online and multimedia environments. San Francisco, CA.
Jossey-Bass.
Diablo III. [Computer Software]. (2012). USA. Blizzard Entertainment
Disruptivemedia. (2014). Erin Manning (Concordia University)-Against Method. [Youtube
video]. Retrieved from
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZEUZ6PWzJqU&feature=youtu.be
Douglas Downs and Elizabeth Wardle. (Jun., 2007). Teaching about Writing, Righting
Misconceptions: (Re)envisioning "First-Year Composition" as "Introduction to Writing
Studies" College Composition and Communication. Vol. 58, No. 4, pp. 552-584
Elder Scroll IV: Oblivion[Computer Software]. (2006). USA. Betheshda Softworks. 2K Games.
Emily is away [Computer Software]. (2015). USA. Unity. 201
Engagement Management System for K-12 Educators. (2019). Retrieved 2019, from
https://www.classcraft.com/
Engeström, Y. (1987). Learning by expanding: An activity-theoretical approach to
developmental research (Helsinki, Orienta-Konsultit).
Engeström, Y. (1999) Innovative learning in work teams: analysing cycles of knowledge creation
in practice, in: Y. ENGESTRÖM et al (Eds.) Perspecives on Activity Theory,
(Cambridge, Cambridge University Press), 377-406.
Engeström, Y. (2014). Learning by expanding. doi:10.1017/cbo9781139814744
Enigma Emporium. (2018). Wish you were here. Retrieved from
https://www.theenigmaemporium.com
Fandom. (2016). XCOM 2 developer interview part 1. [Youtube video]. Retrieved from
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pQihl9xTe2c
Fiasco. [Paper Game]. (2009). USA. Bully Pulpit Games
Final Fantasy XIV [Computer Software]. (2010). USA. Square Enix
Firaxis Games. (2012). XCOM: Enemy Within. [PC game]. Sparks, MD: 2K Games.
Firaxis Games. (2016) XCOM 2 [PC game]. Sparks, MD: 2K Games.
Fishman, S.M., McCarthy, L. (2000). Unplayed tapes: A personal history of collaborative
teacher research. National Council of Teachers of English: Urbana, IL.
Fort McMoney. (2013). Retrieved 2019, from http://www.fortmcmoney.com/#/fortmcmoney
Forza motorsport 7[Computer Software]. (2017). USA. Xbox Game Studios. 202
Game Maker’s Toolkit. (2017). How game designers protect players from themselves. Youtube
video]. Retrieved from Disruptivemedia. (2014). Erin Manning (Concordia University)
Gee, E. R., & Tran, K. M. (2016). Video game making and modding. Advances in Media,
Entertainment, and the Arts Handbook of Research on the Societal Impact of Digital
Media,238-267. doi:10.4018/978-1-4666-8310-5.ch010
Gee, J. P. (2004). What video games have to teach us about learning and literacy. New York:
Palgrave Macmillan.
Gee, J. P. (2012). Situated Language and Learning A Critique of Traditional Schooling.
Florence: Taylor and Francis.
Gee, J.P (1989). Literacy, discourse, and linguistics: An introduction. Journal of Education, 171
(1) pp. 5-17. Retrieved from
http://jamespaulgee.com/pdfs/Literacy%20and%20Linguistics.pdf
Gee, J.P (2013). Jim Gee Principles on Gaming. [Video File] Retrieved from
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4aQAgAjTozk&t=192s
Generic Gaming. (2013). The Last of Us-Full Opening. [Video File]. Retrieved from
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ecpQ_WUqKUM&t=1s
Grand Theft Auto V. [Computer Software]. (2013). USA. Rockstar Games.
Gravity Well Painting. (2018). BG Undead Mission 1 Part 1. [Video File].
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GOJs75mK75w
Hunnicutt, B.K. (1990). Leisure and play in Plato, teaching and philosophy of learning. Leisure
Sciences, 12(2), 211-227. doi:10.1080/01490409009513101 203
Inoue, A. B., & Poe, M. (2012). Race and writing assessment. New York: P. Lang.
Johns, A. M. (1997). Text, role, and context: Developing academic literacies. New York:
Cambridge University Press.
King, S. (1982). Rita hayworth and shawshank redemption. New York, NY. Viking Press.
Kiprobaljuk, Megnezzuk. (2009). Half Life 2 Opening Scene, First 5 Minutes-in Full HD. [Video
File]. Retrieved from https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y_3vMUOayyc
Krueger, R. A., & Casey, M. A. (2009). Focus groups: A practical guide for applied research.
London: SAGE.
Kulpa, A. (2017). Applied Gamification: Reframing Evaluation in Post-Secondary Classrooms.
College Teaching, 65(2), 58-68. doi:10.1080/87567555.2016.1232693
Kwon, J. (2018, March 03). The Genius of the Map in Zelda: Breath of the Wild. Retrieved
January 2, 2018, from https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B_uf-jWbfLU
Lankshear, C., & Knobel, M. (2004). A handbook for teacher research: From design to
implementation. Buckingham: Open University Press.
Latour, B., Woolgar, S., & Salk, J. (2006). Laboratory life: The construction of scientific facts.
Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press.
Launius, R. (2005). Arkham Horror. [Board game]. Fantasy Flight Games.
LoadScreen. (2015). Uncharted 2 intro: Uncharted: The Nathan Drake Collection. [Video File].
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dp7rc5W0Y9k&t=108s 204
Lynn, J. (Director), Launer, D. (Producer), & Launer, D. (Writer). (n.d.). My cousin Vinny
[Video file].
Make something unreal. (2019). Retrieved from https://www.unrealengine.com/en-US/what-is-
unreal-engine-4
Malone, T. W. (1980). What makes things fun to learn?: A study of intrinsically motivating
computer games. Cognitive and Instructional Sciences Series. CIS-7 (SSL-80-11). pp. 1-
94.
Manning, E. (2016). The Minor Gesture. doi:10.1215/9780822374411
McGonigal. J. (2011). Reality is broken. UK. Penguin Publishing Random House
McGonigal, J. (2010). Gaming can make a better world [Video File]. Retrieved from
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dE1DuBesGYM&t=1s
McGonigal. J. (2012) Jane McGonigal: Truths & myths in games [Video File]. Retrieved from
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZJ7uaDlYVmo
McPolin, E. (2018) Appendix 1. In Mills, G. E. Action research: A guide for the teacher
researcher. NY, NY: Pearson.
Melville, H. (2017) Moby Dick. Alma Classics, 2017. Richmond, UK
Metal Gear Solid. [Computer Software]. (1998). USA. Konami.
Minecraft [Computer Software]. (2009). USA. Unity. Mojang
NDP group. (2016). Gaming Industry. Retrieved from
https://www.npd.com/wps/portal/npd/us/industry-expertise/video-games/ 205
Nelson, M. J. (2012). Soviet and American Precursors to the Gamification of Work.
International Academic MindTrek Conference, pp. 23-26.
Netflix. (2019). You vs. Wild: Interactive Series ft. Bear Grylls Official Trailer Netflix. [Video
File]. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pDPGRe28tUs
New Super Mario Bros. U. [Computer Software]. (2012). USA. Nintendo
Nickoson, L., Sheridan, M. P., & Kirsch, G. E. (2012). Writing studies research in practice:
methods and methodologies. Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press.
Nowacek, R. S. (2011). Agents of integration: understanding transfer as a rhetorical act.
Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press.
Pappa, P. (2018). First day of school? Here's how to get students thinking. Retrieved from
https://peterpappas.com/2010/08/first-day-school-engage-problem-solve-how-to-get-
students-thinking.html
Patten, M. L. (2011). QUESTIONAIRE RESEARCH: A PRACTICAL GUIDE. Los Angeles:
Pyrczak.
Ploettner, J., Tresseras, E. (2016). An interview with Yrjö Engeström and Annalisa Sannino on
activity theory. Bellaterra Journal of Teaching & Learning Language & Literacture.
9(4), 87-98. doi: https://doi.org/10.5565/rev/jtl3.709
Pong. [Computer Software]. (1972). USA. Atari.
Rackham. H. (1932) Aristotle politics. Cambridge, Ma. Loeb Classical Library. 206
Robison, A. J. (2008). The design is the game: Writing games, teaching writing. Computers and
Composition,25(3), 359-370. doi:10.1016/j.compcom.2008.04.006
Russell, D. (2009). Activity Theory and its Implication for Writing Instruction. In Petraglia, J.
(2009). Reconceiving writing, rethinking writing instruction. New York: Routledge.
Second Life[Computer Software]. (2003). USA. Linden Lab.
Selfe, C. (2007). Multimodal composition: resources for teachers. New York, NY. Hampton
Press
Selfe, C. L. (1999). Technology and literacy: A story about the perils of not paying attention.
College Composition and Communication, 50(3), 411. doi:10.2307/358859
Selfe, C. L., Mareck, A. F., & Gardiner, J. (2007). Computer gaming as literacy. Gaming Lives in
the Twenty-First Century,21-35. doi:10.1057/9780230601765_2
Selzer, J. (2014). Rhetorical analysis: Understanding how texts persuade readers. In Bazerman,
C., & Prior, P. (2014). What writing does and how it does it: An introduction to analyzing
texts and textual practices. New York: Routldege.
Sheridan, M. P., & Rowsell, J. (2010). Design literacies: learning and innovation in the digital
age. London: Routledge.
Sheridan, M. P., & Rowsell, J. (2010). Design literacies: Learning from a digital environment.
London: Routledge.
Sherlock, L. (2009). Genre, Activity, and Collaborative Work and Play in World of Warcraft.
Journal of Business and Technical Communication, 23(3), 263-293.
doi:10.1177/1050651909333150 207
Spinuzzi, C. (2011). Losing by Expanding. Journal of Business and Technical Communication,
25(4), 449-486. doi:10.1177/1050651911411040
Spinuzzi, C. (2013). Topsight: A guide to studying, diagnosing, and fixing information flow in
organizations. United States?: CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform.
Springgay, S., & Truman, S. E. (2017). On the Need for Methods Beyond Proceduralism:
Speculative Middles, (In)Tensions, and Response-Ability in Research. Qualitative
Inquiry, 24(3), 203-214. doi:10.1177/1077800417704464
Stanford, G., & Stanford, B. D. (1969). Learning discussion skills through games
Statt, N. (2017, March 7). Zelda_sheikah_slate_breath_of_the_wild_1.0.png [Sheikah Slate].
Retrieved December 28, 2018, from
https://www.theverge.com/tldr/2017/3/7/14809872/sheikah-slate-review-the-legend-of-
zelda-breath-of-the-wild
Super Mario Bros. [Computer Software]. (1985). USA. Nintendo.
Swiftstealth. (2008). BG Undead-The Fall of 2008. [Video File].
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pDPGRe28tUs
The Legend of Zelda[Computer Software]. (1986). USA. Nintendo.
The Resistance [Board Game]. (2010). USA. Indie Boards & Cards
Tomb Raider[Computer Software]. (1996). USA. Eidos Interactive
Tooth and Tail [Computer Software]. (2017). USA. Pocketwatch
Uncharted. [Computer Software]. (2007). USA. Naughty Dog 208
Vygotsky, L.S., & Cole, M. (1978). Mind in society: The development of higher psychological
processes. Cambridge: Harvard University Press.
Waggoner, Z. (2009). My avatar, my self: identity in video role-playing games. Jefferson, NC:
McFarland.
Warcraft, W. O. (2010, January 22). World of Warcraft Cinematic Trailer. Retrieved 2019, from
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vlVSJ0AvZe0
Wardrip-Fruin, N., & Harrigan, P. (2004). First person: New media as story, performance, and
game. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.
Wesch, M. (2013). The marshmallow wars. [Youtube video]. Retrieved from
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gF2kFPNZChc
Wesch, M. (2015). “Falling Up” Interactive empathy game-story trailer. [Youtube video]
Retrieved from https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BFuluIy-5QY&t=62s
Wesch, M. (2013). World Simulation 2013-“The Marshmallow Wars”. [Video File].
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gF2kFPNZChc
World of Warcraft (2010). World of Warcraft Cinematic Trailer. [Video File]. Retrieved from
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vlVSJ0AvZe0
World of Warcraft. [Computer Software]. (2004). USA. Blizzard Entertainment
WorldWithoutOil. (2008). Welcome to a World Without Oil. [Video File].
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M-hzUGFD-Gc
Xcom2 [Computer Software]. (2016). USA. Faraxis.
Your Future Self [Computer Software]. (2019). USA. Contortionist Games 209
APPENDIX A: STUDENT SURVEYS 210 211 212 213 214 215 216 217 218 219 220 221 222 223 224 225 226 227 228 229 230 231 232 233
APPENDIX B: SURVEY INFORMED CONSENT
BOWLING GREEN STATE UNIVERSITY
Rhetoric and Writing Program Department of English
Marshall Saenz Graduate Student English Department Bowling Green State University Bowling Green, OH 43402 [email protected]
Survey Informed Consent
Research Project Title Networks of Interaction: Investigating Writing Course Design through Fourth Generation Activity Theory and Principles of Play. Informed Consent Form for all Research Participants
Introduction You are invited to participate in a research study being conducted by Marshall Saenz from the Department of English at Bowling Green State University, as part of his dissertation. Your participation in this study will involve responding to three surveys throughout the Fall Semester 2018 (early semester, mid semester, and end of semester)
You are asked to participate in this study because you are currently enrolled in GSW 1110.
Purpose The purpose of this study explores how identity concepts from Fourth Generation Activity Theory and Principles of Play may play a significant role in course development and course design for first-year composition courses. The first goal of this study is to understand the role Principles of Play and Activity Theory have in augmenting course development and course design in a GSW 1110 writing class. The second goal is to determine how students identify as writers in a GSW 1110 class with an emphasis on course design.
Benefits The possible benefits of this study include a better understanding of how to integrate Fourth Generation Activity Theory and Principles of Play into developing college level, first year writing courses. While the information collected may not benefit you directly, the information learned throughout this study could potentially be helpful to future instructors, students, other college programs, and the field of rhetoric and composition in general. The results of this research may help reveal the rhetorical complexities, affordances, and limitations in using these theories and practices in course development.
BGSU IRB - APPROVED FOR USE IRBNet ID # _1116804_ EFFECTIVE _09/26/2018_ EXPIRES _09/25/2019_
_ 234
Procedure The survey will consist of 17 questions that will ask you about how you identify as a writer, how you engage with writing activities, and how you observe writing in new and/or different contexts. The survey will take approximately 15 minutes to complete.
Voluntary Nature Your participation is completely voluntary. You are free to withdraw at any time. You may decide to skip questions or discontinue participation without penalty. You must be at least 18 years old to participate. If you choose not to participate, please ignore the interruption to class and continue drafting your current writing project during this same 15 minute window of time. Deciding to participate or not will have no effect on your grades, class standing, or your relationship with Bowling Green State University
Confidentiality/Anonymity Protection If you agree to participate, your identity in this project will be protected by a survey ID number that you create. Please remember the ID number that you create. The information and opinions you provide will be used only for the purpose of this research study. While you may be quoted, your identity will remain confidential. If quoted, you will be referred to as a participant. The collected surveys will be kept confidential and secured in a locked drawer in the GSW office. All responses to the surveys will be placed in a sealed envelope in a locked filing cabinet in the GSW office. Only GSW administrators will have access to this cabinet until the Fall 2018 semester has ended and final grades have been submitted.
Risks The risk of participation in this survey is no greater than what you would experience in daily life.
Contact Information If you have any questions about the research or your participation in the research, please feel free to contact Marshall Saenz at [email protected] or 419-819-8050, or his advisor, Dr. Lee Nickoson, at [email protected] or 419-819-8050. You may also request to see drafts of his write-up of the survey research. If you have any questions about participant rights, you may contact the Institutional Review Board at Bowling Green State University at 419-372-7716 or [email protected] . Thank you for your time.
Informed Consent I have been informed of the purposes, procedures, risks, and benefits of this study. I have had the opportunity to have all my questions answered and I have been informed that my participation is completely voluntary. I have been informed that I must be at least 18 years old to participate.
Completing and returning the survey indicates consent to participate.
BGSU IRB - APPROVED FOR USE IRBNet ID # _1116804_ EFFECTIVE _09/26/2018_ EXPIRES _09/25/2019_
_ 235
APPENDIX C: RECRUITMENT FORM
BOWLING GREEN STATE UNIVERSITY
Rhetoric and Writing Program Department of English
Dear Student,
My name is Sara Austin and I am here on behalf my colleague and your instructor, Marshall Saenz, to invite you to participate in his dissertation research. Marshall is a PhD student in the Rhetoric and Writing Program working under the guidance of Dr. Lee Nickoson. He is conducting a research study that explores how Principles of Play and activity theory inform writing identity and course design.
Your participation in this research would involve responding to surveys during the Fall 2018 semester that will ask you a series of questions about your writing and your instructor’s classroom practices. There will also be an option to participate in a focus group in the following semester. The goal of this study is to understand the how Principles of Play affect identity within the activity system of a first- year writing course, how student view identity as writers, how identity operates for students in play, and how might identity, activity, and play inform course design.
If you agree to participate, your participation in this project will be anonymous and confidential. The information and opinions you provide will be used only for the purpose of this research study. I, Sara, will not share any information on student participation with Marshall. He will not have access to survey responses until after he has posted final course grades. While you may be quoted, no identifiable information about you will be collected. If quoted, you will be referred to as a participant. The results of the survey will be kept confidential. The answers you give to the surveys will not have any personally identifiable information attached to them. I, Sara, will place the responses to the surveys in a sealed envelope in a locked filing cabinet in the General Studies Writing (GSW) Office. Only GSW administrators will have access to this cabinet.
If you choose not to participate, pleases ignore the interruption to class and continue drafting your current writing project during this same 15-minute window of time.
Thank you for your time and consideration,
Sara
212 East Hall Phone 419.372.2576 Bowling Green, OH 43403-0191 www.bgsu.edu/departments/english Fax 419.372.0333 236
APPENDIX D: IRB APPROVAL LETTER
DATE: September 13, 2018
TO: Marshall Saenz FROM: Bowling Green State University Institutional Review Board
PROJECT TITLE: [1116804-5] Networks of Interaction: Investigating Writing Course Design through Fourth Generation Activity Theory and Principles of Play. SUBMISSION TYPE: Continuing Review/Progress Report
ACTION: APPROVED APPROVAL DATE: September 26, 2018 EXPIRATION DATE: September 25, 2019 REVIEW TYPE: Expedited Review
REVIEW CATEGORY: Expedited review category # 7
Thank you for your submission of Continuing Review/Progress Report materials for this project. The Bowling Green State University Institutional Review Board has APPROVED your submission. This approval is based on an appropriate risk/benefit ratio and a project design wherein the risks have been minimized. All research must be conducted in accordance with this approved submission.
The final approved version of the consent document(s) is available as a published Board Document in the Review Details page. You must use the approved version of the consent document when obtaining consent from participants. Informed consent must continue throughout the project via a dialogue between the researcher and research participant. Federal regulations require that each participant receives a copy of the consent document.
Please note that you are responsible to conduct the study as approved by the IRB. If you seek to make any changes in your project activities or procedures, those modifications must be approved by this committee prior to initiation. Please use the modification request form for this procedure.
All UNANTICIPATED PROBLEMS involving risks to subjects or others and SERIOUS and UNEXPECTED adverse events must be reported promptly to this office. All NON-COMPLIANCE issues or COMPLAINTS regarding this project must also be reported promptly to this office.
This approval expires on September 25, 2019. You will receive a continuing review notice before your project expires. If you wish to continue your work after the expiration date, your documentation for continuing review must be received with sufficient time for review and continued approval before the expiration date.
Good luck with your work. If you have any questions, please contact the Office of Research Compliance at 419-372-7716 or [email protected]. Please include your project title and reference number in all correspondence regarding this project.
- 1 - Generated on IRBNet 237
This letter has been electronically signed in accordance with all applicable regulations, and a copy is retained within Bowling Green State University Institutional Review Board's records.
- 2 - Generated on IRBNet