Most people love video games for their engaging and/or addictive gameplay. Besides this, I love them for the stories they tell.
Telltale Games is known for their narrative-style games that play like interactive movies in which the decisions that players make impact later outcomes in the stories. They brought back the point-and-click adventure style games from the 90's, modernizing them and skillfully weaving together engrossing stories filled with depth, nuance, and substance. I could tell from their games' characters, art direction, and well-written scripts that an immense amount of time, hard work, and love went into their games.
Which is why it is all the more shocking and tragic that this past week, Telltale Games officially announced that they will be closing down. How could this happen? It seemed like every year they were releasing new games in the Telltale-style format that many gamers love and have grown accustomed to, ever since the first season of The Walking Dead sold millions of copies and garnered multiple game of the year awards in 2012. Even the employees were given less than a day's notice with no severance, thus leading to a class-action lawsuit against the now, or soon-to-be, former game developer.
I did not see this coming. Apparently, not even most of the employees did either.
Telltale Games found immense success with their first breakout game The Walking Dead, but following The Walking Dead's release, the company took on way too many projects over the span of six years: four total seasons of The Walking Dead (though only three are complete, and who knows what will happen to the final season following its cancellation), The Wolf Among Us, Tales from the Borderlands, Game of Thrones, Minecraft: Story Mode, Batman, Guardians of the Galaxy...
And with the swift closure of the company, many questions remain as to how such a prolific game developer could have found itself in such a dire situation. To simply say to your employees "We're closing; bye bye see ya; you have 30 minutes to leave. Oh tomorrow you have three hours to come back and get your things" is just... wtf?
This is the treatment that the creators of some of the most compelling story-driven games receive for their years of hard work and their loyalty to a company whose downfall can be attributed to poor leadership and management. Telltale Games forced their employees to work excessive hours ranging between
50-80 hours a week. That's insane but unfortunately quite common in the video game industry. And no matter how good Telltale Games' stories were, no matter how much love, effort, and overtime hours went into creating these games, they did not sell well. How could they? Every game was pretty much the same as the first in the eyes of most consumers, and there were simply way too many Telltale games to keep track of. Even if the stories were thoughtful, the gameplay mechanics failed to evolve due to the lack of time the creators had. A game developer cannot simply keep releasing the same game, even if the story is different, with the same mechanics and continue to expect good sales, unless of course the company is Activision, Ubisoft, 2K, or Nintendo. Even then, there are always efforts to further evolve and refine the gameplay for at least two, no, maybe one, of these companies.
This is what happens when a company grows too quickly and attempts to take on way too many projects within a short time span. Instead of spacing out their projects, or actually allow time to refine/evolve their gameplay mechanics versus simply rehashing the same package (every Telltale game essentially plays the same), the mentality was simply to keep churning out more of the same games, despite their great stories, and somehow expect them to sell well. This is what happens when a company devalues its own products. I believe the company executives failed to realize that when they devalue their products to such an extent by constantly having "new" releases of the same old game, to the point when gamers quickly develop the perception that every game is the same as the one they played, and perhaps loved, in 2012, then of course fewer and fewer people will continue to buy the same old game. There are exceptions, of course, such as Call of Duty, Assassin's Creed, 2K's sports games, and Pokemon, but releasing on average 2-3 games a year, which, again, are all pretty much the same, is still a bit much.
I sympathize with the developers, the creators, artists, and writers who put their hearts and souls into telling the best tales they could given the unreasonable deadlines and persistent pressure of "this game has to sell well." It is truly unfortunate that the games did not sell well, which led to Telltale Games' demise, but the truth is that the onus does not lie on the creators. They told captivating stories and made decent games. Their games' average metacritic score is 75, and if you understand metacritic scores, then you know that this is pretty good.
Making video games is difficult; this much I understand. I've seen stories in video games that are so well-written that they outclass many of the mundane, uninspired plots found in today's modern novels. Unfortunately, a good story alone is not the only requirement, and sometimes not even an important factor, for a game to sell well.
I appreciate all of the hard work that Telltale Games' developers put into crafting powerful narratives that deeply dive into character development and the process of making tough decisions (and experiencing the consequences). For The Walking Dead, I will always remember Clementine's growth from an innocent (and adorable) young girl into a hardened, disillusioned, yet nonetheless compassionate young adult, as well as the heart-wrenching feeling we experienced when we (spoiler warning) saw Lee die at the conclusion to season one. I enjoyed the creativity poured into Batman: The Telltale Series and how their depictions of Joker, Penguin, Two-Face, Catwoman, and Bruce Wayne himself are some of the best, if not the best takes on the characters in recent years.
Following the news of Telltale Games' closure, I realize how over the years, I have bought many of their games but haven't found the time to actually play through them completely. Though I have watched playthroughs of these games online, I think it's time for me to actually complete them myself.
Thank you to all of the creators, artists, and storytellers who used to work at Telltale games. Thank you for further proving to the world that video games are, arguably, the best medium for telling engaging and thought-provoking stories that help shed light on what and who we are as human beings.
Episode 1 for The Walking Dead and Batman: The Telltale Series are free on Google Play and the Apple App Store. Check them out if you're interested. But don't buy them; clearly the money won't be going to the actual creators since they were all unceremoniously released. I'm glad that others in the industry have reached out to Telltale Games' former employees, especially when their own former employer lacked the decency, foresight, and morality to treat the people who brought them success in the first place with some respect.
Thursday, September 27, 2018
Thursday, September 20, 2018
Is Gaming the Problem? Or is it the Solution? (Part 2)
There is a likelihood that had WHO's "gaming disorder" label existed fifteen years ago, I would have been diagnosed with having this disorder. Between the ages of fifteen and twenty, I became addicted to
Final Fantasy XI, a massively multiplayer online game that cost $12.95 a
month to play. I poured in nearly seven years of
my life into that game. My mother thought my addiction to the game was
the main reason I wanted to stop going to school.
At the time, she misunderstood my situation. I suffered from extreme social anxiety during my freshman year of high school. For some strange reason, during my transitions between public and private school, I became paranoid, depressed, and fearful of how I was perceived by others, specifically in how I performed in any given class. Now, I have always been a very self-conscious individual, but my anxiety spiraled out of control during high school. Oftentimes, I thought the entire world was judging me, belittling me. I exemplified the spotlight effect, perhaps even agoraphobia. I realize this now as an adult, but as an irrational and emotive teenager, I felt like an outcast, desperate for approval, yet freaking out at the possibility of disappointing everyone, and most of all, myself. The school work wasn't difficult. The teachers and school staff were all incredibly kind, understanding, and supportive. The problem came from within me, a genetic disposition even, a tendency to worry excessively (probably from the father) and heightened emotional reactivity (mother), exacerbated by unpredictable, mundane, yet self-esteem and confidence shattering environmental triggers.
All of this happened in ninth grade, before Final Fantasy XI was even released in the U.S. I didn't start playing the game until tenth grade. I was never officially diagnosed with any specific disorder. My counselor suspected depression, which may have been the case. I could call it social anxiety disorder, generalized anxiety disorder, agoraphobia, major depressive disorder, bipolar disorder...
But I'm not a psychiatrist. Should I have seen one? Maybe, but I don't think doing so would have helped. I managed to pull through, eventually, and today I live through my days well enough. My sophomore year of high school seemed better than my freshman year, after I had switched back to attending public school, but I was still skipping a lot of school, claiming illness, when in fact I was just bored. Bored and lazy. Eventually, I simply stopped caring about school altogether. Whether consciously or subconsciously, I subscribed to the quote often attributed to Mark Twain: "Never let schooling interfere with your education." I took the sentiment too literally. I felt that what I was learning in school was useless and that my education as a student of life was being impeded. I was very solipsistic, perhaps even misguided, for I didn't see the time or efforts I was spending in school amounting to anything. Factor in my difficulties with socializing and maintaining friendships, and the result is little incentive to continue attending school.
But of course, I was a short-sighted and naive teenager, one who had not entirely overcome his issues with anger, depression, anxiety, and self-doubt. We all go through these stages in life.
Disenchanted, I started playing Final Fantasy XI, and around that time, I decided that I wanted to complete my high school education through independent study/homeschooling. I had already done independent study for the majority of my freshmen year anyways.
My parents thought that games were the problem, and the cause, if you will, for my refusal to attend school. Even during my freshman year, they thought this was case. They failed to realize that video games were my therapy.
A lot of transformations happened within me during this time. I could relate to the existential crises faced by Final Fantasy and other video game characters I observed. Besides video games, I read Shakespeare's Hamlet voluntarily and became hooked, and I turned to philosophy and Bruce Lee's writings to rediscover meaning in my life. In many ways, this became my education. Sure, I played a lot of video games, but video games were not the cause of my problems. They did not make me feel anxious or depressed. Instead, the situation was quite the opposite.
We always have to look at things holistically. I can say that I was addicted to Final Fantasy XI for many years, but the game also taught me how to socialize with others, fulfill roles as a team leader and supporter, carefully plan, research, and implement action plans to overcome obstacles, and, most of all, have some of the most memorable and fulfilling shared experiences with the friends I had made. I regret not having kept in touch with them after I stopped playing.
When I was 17 and done with high school, my father became upset when he noticed that I started playing Final Fantasy XI after a months-long break (I've taken many breaks from FFXI throughout the years I've played it). He was nervous and angry that I wasn't taking the steps to pursue post-secondary education. Honestly, at the time, I wasn't ready yet. Although one of my main regrets in life is that I put off going to college for a couple years, it was also through this process that I managed to figure my shit out. I understand that this may not always be the case for other people.
I understand that it's so easy to get lost in a game, to forget about everything else that is important in life. Forgetting to sleep, eat, even live. However, I still slept, even if my sleeping times were abnormal, and I still ate. I was living my life in my own quirky, unproductive way. I also conversed with friends extensively, discovered and adjusted my outlook on life, and found the motivation and mental set to overcome my anxieties and depression.
You could say that I had gaming disorder, but then you would ultimately fail to see the bigger picture. Today, I stay away from MMOs. I refuse to play Final Fantasy XIV, the only Final Fantasy game I have not played, because it is an MMO. As a working adult now, ain't nobody got time for that. Yet, in spite of all the time wasted and frustrations that I experienced due to playing FFXI, I'm still grateful for the fond memories. I still wish I used my time for something more productive, though, like maybe graduate college earlier. Oh well. If I had done things differently, then I wouldn't be who I am today, and I like who I am today, usually. All's well that ends well, as Shakespeare would say.
Now, there are people who are legitimately addicted to video games to the point where it does result in their lives becoming consumed, and even destroyed, by their inability to disengage from their screens. People can become addicted to anything. Social media, television, pornography, cartoons, you name it. We have to ask ourselves, however, how helpful is it to implement a label such as gaming disorder. What happens if it is misused, misapplied, or misdiagnosed? For this will certainly happen, thanks to the media, worried parents, and presumed experts who are not really experts, all blinded by their ignorance and inexperience.
Consider how many people play games today. Statista estimates that 912 million people in Asia and 200 million in North America play video games simultaneously. For how many of these gamers could the label of "gaming disorder" benefit? How many could be hurt through the existence of such a label? In my honest opinion, I doubt that the existence and controversy of gaming disorder will really affect most gamers nor the video game industry to a great extent.
However, I also worry that so many "mental health experts" are failing to address the real, underlying problems. Perhaps gaming disorder is a helpful term in Asia, where people often spend too much of their time playing PUBG or other games that have no end goal in sight. I don't like these types of games, which is why I stopped playing FFXI. I realized that I was spending too much time and money without having much to show for it. At the same time, I don't think these mental health experts ever pause to wonder exactly why so many people play these types of games, thus increasing their chances of becoming addicted and perhaps having gaming disorder. Have they ever paid attention to just how strict and competitive the education system is in Asian countries, as well as the increasing competition here in the U.S.? How often do high school students become jaded, after coming to the conclusion that most of what they learn in school seems useless? Are these questions off topic? No. Look at the big picture. We must consider that for many addicted gamers, perhaps they feel that gaming is the only way they can escape the stress of their everyday lives. I think that people play games to escape reality, and when they are unable to cope with reality - or they make a decision to stay in and concentrate more on the virtual world rather than the real world - then that is when they may have a problem and need help.
However, there are no clear suggestions for how we can help these individuals. What are the effective forms of treatment? Are there any? Take away the games, they might say. But what will we do when extreme, but plausible, scenarios arise, when there are threats of suicide for taking away a person's games, or when people turn to other addictions like drugs or gambling in their attempts to fill the void within their hearts? Whether this is a slippery slope or possible outcome, it can be difficult to say. Chances are that the gaming addiction is merely a symptom, not a cause, of a much larger problem.
All in all, I don't think the gaming disorder label was well thought out.
Although the WHO indicates that the decision to classify gaming disorder "is based on reviews of available evidence and reflects a consensus of experts from different disciplines and geographical regions that were involved in the process of technical consultations undertaken by WHO," I don't see any references to who these experts are or which studies support the usage of such a label. When I can find the time, I would like to carefully review these studies and utilize my own expertise when I scrutinize them.
You cannot truly understand what it's like to suffer from clinical depression, an anxiety disorder, schizophrenia, drug addiction, or any type of mental disorder unless you've experienced it yourself. You cannot truly empathize with someone who has attempted or committed suicide unless you once found yourself in the depths of such despair. People always, however, find ways to label and judge those they consider "abnormal," those who seem "different from the norm," and they like to call themselves "experts." Whether these people are truly experts remains to be seen.
What is normalcy? What is a disorder? Most importantly, what are the potential ramifications, both positive and negative, of implementing each new label? If I see more potential for harm than good, I cannot support such a decision. But I am still uncertain and ambivalent, for I'm aware that there are people with gaming addictions far worse than my own, to the point where their addictions can and do destroy their lives.
In college, I completed a research project regarding a culturally-bound syndrome of social withdrawal, in which sufferers are known as hikikomori or NEETs (not in employment, education, or training). One could argue that for many hikikomori/NEETs, gaming disorder could be related, for many of them depend on video games and/or the internet to escape from reality. However, once again, video games themselves are not the problem. For a large number of sufferers of social anxiety due to extreme academic/work related pressure, playing video games is an attempt to escape the harshness of reality and find solace.
If I argue that video games can be a treatment, at what point should it be considered a problem? If the root cause of the problem is anxiety, depression, stress, or anything not completely related to video games, then what approaches should we take to truly help individuals regain order, normalcy, and happiness in their lives?
Video games are the solution to boredom, and I know that being a passionate gamer brings meaning to so many people's lives, including my own. I think my own experiences, knowledge, and ethos can allow me to confidently state that having the classification of "gaming disorder" is certainly not that helpful. Will your insurance cover your treatment for your gaming disorder?
Maybe, maybe not.
Now, let's end on a positive note. Video games are meant to be played for fun, and as much as I love video games, there is certainly more to life than just video games. Balance is important, for too much of anything can be harmful. We shouldn't strictly view video games as a problem nor a solution: video games are art, and video gaming is a hobby that we should simply enjoy in our free time. We must not let ourselves become too addicted to the point where we stop going to school or work. And, we always have to consider the other problems that are more pertinent than having a "gaming disorder" label, such as how to help people healthily cope with excessive stress, anxiety, or depression in their everyday lives.
At the time, she misunderstood my situation. I suffered from extreme social anxiety during my freshman year of high school. For some strange reason, during my transitions between public and private school, I became paranoid, depressed, and fearful of how I was perceived by others, specifically in how I performed in any given class. Now, I have always been a very self-conscious individual, but my anxiety spiraled out of control during high school. Oftentimes, I thought the entire world was judging me, belittling me. I exemplified the spotlight effect, perhaps even agoraphobia. I realize this now as an adult, but as an irrational and emotive teenager, I felt like an outcast, desperate for approval, yet freaking out at the possibility of disappointing everyone, and most of all, myself. The school work wasn't difficult. The teachers and school staff were all incredibly kind, understanding, and supportive. The problem came from within me, a genetic disposition even, a tendency to worry excessively (probably from the father) and heightened emotional reactivity (mother), exacerbated by unpredictable, mundane, yet self-esteem and confidence shattering environmental triggers.
All of this happened in ninth grade, before Final Fantasy XI was even released in the U.S. I didn't start playing the game until tenth grade. I was never officially diagnosed with any specific disorder. My counselor suspected depression, which may have been the case. I could call it social anxiety disorder, generalized anxiety disorder, agoraphobia, major depressive disorder, bipolar disorder...
But I'm not a psychiatrist. Should I have seen one? Maybe, but I don't think doing so would have helped. I managed to pull through, eventually, and today I live through my days well enough. My sophomore year of high school seemed better than my freshman year, after I had switched back to attending public school, but I was still skipping a lot of school, claiming illness, when in fact I was just bored. Bored and lazy. Eventually, I simply stopped caring about school altogether. Whether consciously or subconsciously, I subscribed to the quote often attributed to Mark Twain: "Never let schooling interfere with your education." I took the sentiment too literally. I felt that what I was learning in school was useless and that my education as a student of life was being impeded. I was very solipsistic, perhaps even misguided, for I didn't see the time or efforts I was spending in school amounting to anything. Factor in my difficulties with socializing and maintaining friendships, and the result is little incentive to continue attending school.
But of course, I was a short-sighted and naive teenager, one who had not entirely overcome his issues with anger, depression, anxiety, and self-doubt. We all go through these stages in life.
Disenchanted, I started playing Final Fantasy XI, and around that time, I decided that I wanted to complete my high school education through independent study/homeschooling. I had already done independent study for the majority of my freshmen year anyways.
My parents thought that games were the problem, and the cause, if you will, for my refusal to attend school. Even during my freshman year, they thought this was case. They failed to realize that video games were my therapy.
A lot of transformations happened within me during this time. I could relate to the existential crises faced by Final Fantasy and other video game characters I observed. Besides video games, I read Shakespeare's Hamlet voluntarily and became hooked, and I turned to philosophy and Bruce Lee's writings to rediscover meaning in my life. In many ways, this became my education. Sure, I played a lot of video games, but video games were not the cause of my problems. They did not make me feel anxious or depressed. Instead, the situation was quite the opposite.
We always have to look at things holistically. I can say that I was addicted to Final Fantasy XI for many years, but the game also taught me how to socialize with others, fulfill roles as a team leader and supporter, carefully plan, research, and implement action plans to overcome obstacles, and, most of all, have some of the most memorable and fulfilling shared experiences with the friends I had made. I regret not having kept in touch with them after I stopped playing.
When I was 17 and done with high school, my father became upset when he noticed that I started playing Final Fantasy XI after a months-long break (I've taken many breaks from FFXI throughout the years I've played it). He was nervous and angry that I wasn't taking the steps to pursue post-secondary education. Honestly, at the time, I wasn't ready yet. Although one of my main regrets in life is that I put off going to college for a couple years, it was also through this process that I managed to figure my shit out. I understand that this may not always be the case for other people.
I understand that it's so easy to get lost in a game, to forget about everything else that is important in life. Forgetting to sleep, eat, even live. However, I still slept, even if my sleeping times were abnormal, and I still ate. I was living my life in my own quirky, unproductive way. I also conversed with friends extensively, discovered and adjusted my outlook on life, and found the motivation and mental set to overcome my anxieties and depression.
You could say that I had gaming disorder, but then you would ultimately fail to see the bigger picture. Today, I stay away from MMOs. I refuse to play Final Fantasy XIV, the only Final Fantasy game I have not played, because it is an MMO. As a working adult now, ain't nobody got time for that. Yet, in spite of all the time wasted and frustrations that I experienced due to playing FFXI, I'm still grateful for the fond memories. I still wish I used my time for something more productive, though, like maybe graduate college earlier. Oh well. If I had done things differently, then I wouldn't be who I am today, and I like who I am today, usually. All's well that ends well, as Shakespeare would say.
Now, there are people who are legitimately addicted to video games to the point where it does result in their lives becoming consumed, and even destroyed, by their inability to disengage from their screens. People can become addicted to anything. Social media, television, pornography, cartoons, you name it. We have to ask ourselves, however, how helpful is it to implement a label such as gaming disorder. What happens if it is misused, misapplied, or misdiagnosed? For this will certainly happen, thanks to the media, worried parents, and presumed experts who are not really experts, all blinded by their ignorance and inexperience.
Consider how many people play games today. Statista estimates that 912 million people in Asia and 200 million in North America play video games simultaneously. For how many of these gamers could the label of "gaming disorder" benefit? How many could be hurt through the existence of such a label? In my honest opinion, I doubt that the existence and controversy of gaming disorder will really affect most gamers nor the video game industry to a great extent.
However, I also worry that so many "mental health experts" are failing to address the real, underlying problems. Perhaps gaming disorder is a helpful term in Asia, where people often spend too much of their time playing PUBG or other games that have no end goal in sight. I don't like these types of games, which is why I stopped playing FFXI. I realized that I was spending too much time and money without having much to show for it. At the same time, I don't think these mental health experts ever pause to wonder exactly why so many people play these types of games, thus increasing their chances of becoming addicted and perhaps having gaming disorder. Have they ever paid attention to just how strict and competitive the education system is in Asian countries, as well as the increasing competition here in the U.S.? How often do high school students become jaded, after coming to the conclusion that most of what they learn in school seems useless? Are these questions off topic? No. Look at the big picture. We must consider that for many addicted gamers, perhaps they feel that gaming is the only way they can escape the stress of their everyday lives. I think that people play games to escape reality, and when they are unable to cope with reality - or they make a decision to stay in and concentrate more on the virtual world rather than the real world - then that is when they may have a problem and need help.
However, there are no clear suggestions for how we can help these individuals. What are the effective forms of treatment? Are there any? Take away the games, they might say. But what will we do when extreme, but plausible, scenarios arise, when there are threats of suicide for taking away a person's games, or when people turn to other addictions like drugs or gambling in their attempts to fill the void within their hearts? Whether this is a slippery slope or possible outcome, it can be difficult to say. Chances are that the gaming addiction is merely a symptom, not a cause, of a much larger problem.
All in all, I don't think the gaming disorder label was well thought out.
Although the WHO indicates that the decision to classify gaming disorder "is based on reviews of available evidence and reflects a consensus of experts from different disciplines and geographical regions that were involved in the process of technical consultations undertaken by WHO," I don't see any references to who these experts are or which studies support the usage of such a label. When I can find the time, I would like to carefully review these studies and utilize my own expertise when I scrutinize them.
You cannot truly understand what it's like to suffer from clinical depression, an anxiety disorder, schizophrenia, drug addiction, or any type of mental disorder unless you've experienced it yourself. You cannot truly empathize with someone who has attempted or committed suicide unless you once found yourself in the depths of such despair. People always, however, find ways to label and judge those they consider "abnormal," those who seem "different from the norm," and they like to call themselves "experts." Whether these people are truly experts remains to be seen.
What is normalcy? What is a disorder? Most importantly, what are the potential ramifications, both positive and negative, of implementing each new label? If I see more potential for harm than good, I cannot support such a decision. But I am still uncertain and ambivalent, for I'm aware that there are people with gaming addictions far worse than my own, to the point where their addictions can and do destroy their lives.
In college, I completed a research project regarding a culturally-bound syndrome of social withdrawal, in which sufferers are known as hikikomori or NEETs (not in employment, education, or training). One could argue that for many hikikomori/NEETs, gaming disorder could be related, for many of them depend on video games and/or the internet to escape from reality. However, once again, video games themselves are not the problem. For a large number of sufferers of social anxiety due to extreme academic/work related pressure, playing video games is an attempt to escape the harshness of reality and find solace.
If I argue that video games can be a treatment, at what point should it be considered a problem? If the root cause of the problem is anxiety, depression, stress, or anything not completely related to video games, then what approaches should we take to truly help individuals regain order, normalcy, and happiness in their lives?
Video games are the solution to boredom, and I know that being a passionate gamer brings meaning to so many people's lives, including my own. I think my own experiences, knowledge, and ethos can allow me to confidently state that having the classification of "gaming disorder" is certainly not that helpful. Will your insurance cover your treatment for your gaming disorder?
Maybe, maybe not.
Now, let's end on a positive note. Video games are meant to be played for fun, and as much as I love video games, there is certainly more to life than just video games. Balance is important, for too much of anything can be harmful. We shouldn't strictly view video games as a problem nor a solution: video games are art, and video gaming is a hobby that we should simply enjoy in our free time. We must not let ourselves become too addicted to the point where we stop going to school or work. And, we always have to consider the other problems that are more pertinent than having a "gaming disorder" label, such as how to help people healthily cope with excessive stress, anxiety, or depression in their everyday lives.
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