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Fundamental Learning

GDC 2006 Curriculum Workshop

by Matthew Sakey

The past few years have seen massive growth in game education programs around the globe, with everything from community colleges to revered universities finally recognizing the lasting importance of gaming. The natural competitiveness of academia means that all institutions have a vested interest in their program being “the best.” But first everyone needs to decide what that program should contain; thus the IGDA-sponsored Game Curriculum Workshop at GDC 2006 was perhaps the most timely event of the conference.

Largely organized by Katie Salen of Parsons School for Design and Katherine Isbister of Rensselaer Polytechnic, the purpose of the workshop was to examine existing game curricula, identify value points, and discuss strategies for enhancing the educational content and benefits for students and industry. Ideally the results would further expand on the already available IGDA Curriculum Framework.

There are currently two views on how the subject should be taught. Many, many people advocate purely technical and artistic game education, focused on the zeroes and ones of development, and/or on art and animation. This philosophy is by far the most dominant throughout game programs. But there is more to games than just the mechanics of producing them. Students in a game program must also understand games in cultural context, recognize the unique effect they have on their audience and establish critical language for discussion of the medium. “Game studies,” which encompasses such pursuits, must take a more prominent role in games education if games themselves are to be improved by the next generation of graduates.

The ultimate takeaway from the workshop is grounded in the fundamental dichotomy between these two viewpoints. Developers are asking for graduates who know how to make games. Arguably, what they really should be asking for is graduates who know how to make better games, games that resonate more powerfully with players than today's do. And that simply cannot be taught with a purely vocational curriculum.

Pragmatically, there's no point in knowing how to make great games if you never learn how to make games at all. Evolution of the experience must come second to the practicalities of construction and business. It's also easier to establish a technical game education curriculum than a liberal game studies one. But both sides are important, and it is crucial that curricula add more attention to the creative, critical, emotional and thematic arenas of game studies. Students who wish to learn about games must learn what makes a good one: through analysis, through critical writing and thinking, through the study of games as experiences. Essentially, “game education” (the study of how to make games) and “game studies” (the study of games themselves) should be combined.

On What's Missing

After some opening remarks by Katie and Katherine, a panel of academics and developers were invited to pontificate on whatever happened to be on their mind at the time. It was an ideal opener, as it encouraged participants to think about the matter in ways they may not have before.

Venerated game designer Warren Spector warned against treating the subject as mere vocational training. There is more, he argued, to making games than those zeroes and ones so beloved of the technical educators, reminding the audience that his past several games called for expertise in everything from castle design to nanotechnology.

“Too much of game programs are focused on what to teach to get students jobs,” Warren said. His implication was that game education alone, the specifics of how-to-make-games, are important but not the end-all. He went on to insist that it's ineffective to only teach students what is already known. Warren advocated a wider, more liberal game studies education that included writing, communication, teamwork, literature and games as cultural artifacts.

USC professor Tracy Fullerton spoke on the value of failure as a learning tool. Students, she argued, should risk failing as spectacularly as possible. Not in the sense of grades or performance, but insofar as the academic environment is the only one where experimentation and innovation can flourish in its purest form. And since not all experimentation leads to failure, such work will be noticed and emulated by the industry. Fear of failure, and the fact that students are only being taught what's already known, drives the copycatting that is so prevalent in game development; one of the many benefits game programs bring to the table is the ability to explore possible avenues of failure in a safe environment. “Academics,” she said, “must promote brilliant failures rather than supporting average successes.”

Susan Gold, professor at Sierra Nevada College, waxed on the matter of teamwork, something that's of crucial importance within the industry, but doesn't receive enough attention in game education programs. Games are made by increasingly cross-disciplinary groups. The ability to work well in such an environment is the most important skill that an aspiring game developer can have. This is an area that could be addressed by an increase in liberal game studies, even if it comes at the expense of technology.

Robin Hunicke, a recent addition to the Maxis team, wondered why so few game education programs fail to teach design, preferring instead to roll it into development and programming. Following the iterative design process that unites the developer, game and player through the mechanics, dynamics and aesthetics of the game can be key to ensuring that the product is an enjoyable one. Developers tend to forget that they are not necessarily the target of their own game. It's wise to stop and ask, every now and then, who the customer is. Priorities, technologies and even design methodologies change and evolve over time, but the need for quality product remains constant.

Many educators are still battling reluctant administrations over the legitimacy of game studies programs. Frans Mäyrä, DiGRA president and professor at the University of Tempere in Finland, presented two possible avenues for securing funding and validation within the academic environment. The easiest is to join an existing department, preferably one with lots of money and elderly professors, and simply wait for them to die. For those wishing to do it the hard way and establish their own independent program, Frans counseled patience and stubbornness, warning of a very long process of seeking research grants, developing partnerships and grabbing attention through clever PR. “Funding implies acceptance,” he said, and it will probably be some years before major universities don't at least quietly smirk at having a game program in the curriculum.

The same was once true with cinema programs. Film schools are now ubiquitous with higher education. As an interesting corroborator of the movement to increase humanist studies in games education, most film schools are split pretty much 50/50 between hardcore production and liberal education on film theory, criticism, genre study, major directors and analysis – courses that are less about making film and more about understanding and making good film.

It's a sentiment mirrored by GameLab's Nick Fortugno, who insisted that academia and education must review and discuss the power and influence of existing games, and not just from a perspective of how well their shader algorithms work. “Chess is a masterpiece of human culture,” he said, elegantly proving that games quite frankly should have been studied in colleges long before now. “Train students to look at games that way, and we'll train students to make better games.” Today we can only dream of a future where philosophers hail X-Com: UFO Defense or SimCity as the chess of the digital age.

When I Group Up

Katie Salen's presentation, “I Want to be a Game Designer,” elaborated on a longstanding issue with students in game curricula – specifically, that many of them don't know precisely what they want to be. To incoming students, “game designer” is a pleasing catch-all for a person who makes games, but it falls to educators to help students define what they really want out of their schooling. Make games? Write games? Design levels? Program engines?

Another problem is that there's little standardization in what arriving students already know. For graduate studies, their expertise depends on their previous schooling – programming, design, art, animation, whatever. It's not at all unthinkable that a fresh-faced student just entering a program is already an accomplished 3D animator. The student at the next desk, however, could well be an excellent programmer but have no idea how to write a design document.

Knowing the answers to the above questions tells educators what they need to teach students. Students, meanwhile, have their own expectations from programs, based on what they want to do after graduation. The relative youth of these curricula makes it difficult for students to find the program that's right for them and learn the skills they want to learn.

Katie included a build-a-student exercise that tasked workshoppers with designing a typical game education student based on the current academic view of what such an animal is. The exercise was designed with tongue in cheek, and naturally there was a great deal of levity in the students that the audience invented. But under the humor there was a lot of depth, and many of their creations cast a lot of light on more than just issues of curriculum development and program validation.

For example, many audience members included notes that their imaginary student had difficulty convincing parents and counselors that theirs was a viable path. Nearly all mentioned something about “wanting to create the next Halo/Starcraft/Black/Guild Wars ,” while none said anything about wanting to develop something unique or innovative. Very few of these fictional students had much in the way of design skills – most were programmers or artists.

None of that was really surprising. In an industry rank with copycatting, in game education programs obsessively fixated on teaching existing technology, it follows that students would be programmers who want to build what's been built before. Arguably, however, it is the role of academia to churn out graduates who are more interested in creating games that expand the medium rather than simply rehashing the past.

Encouragingly, many of the students created during the exercise were female, and multiculturalism was prevalent. That's good news for an industry still deeply embroiled in sexism and racial stereotyping, assuming that it's truly an accurate reflection of the sort of student educators can expect in coming days.

What is a game studies student? Ultimately Katie's presentation argued that it's up to the curriculum developers to determine that, and to tell the students what to expect. Programs will specialize in different disciplines, and some transparency between curricula will allow prospective students to find the best match for their interests. Identifying what kind of student goes into a game program is helpful, but the real key is to decide what kind of graduate comes out.

Reports From The Front

Students, naturally, should also have a voice in that. The next section of the workshop got the opinions of four expert witnesses – graduate students in game education programs. In another heartening development, three of the four students were women, and all strongly advocated the idea that graduates of these programs need not be limited forever to just “making” games. Gillian Andrews of Columbia University, Matt Billock of DePaul, Liz Chang of Penn State and Megan Perry of Hudson Valley Community College are all IGDA scholarship winners and early adopters of the discipline; in many cases they had to create their own program or heavily modify existing ones to suit their purposes. Their study was often independent and self-directed, so they were well equipped to vocalize what they'd want to see out of a formal program.

And vocalize it they did. At the top of the list was more “game studies” – games as creative entities, including genre theory and game analysis. Understanding the impact of specific games, how games are engineered to affect players, and game history in its correct social context seemed very important to them. When the students are insisting that there's more to learn than just the mechanics, it's time for educators to listen.

Ironically, they also asked for better educators. This is a major issue, because all too often universities demand doctorate-level experience from professors. The fact is, there are barely any PhDs in game disciplines right now, and if colleges and universities insist on waiting until there are more, good staff may be lost and long-term curriculum development could bog down. The wiser course would be to display a willingness to take the chance on someone with a zeal to teach and an encyclopedic knowledge of games rather than a handful of letters after their name.

Displaying even more prescience, the students called also for greater focus on teamwork and group interaction, more accredited programs from major schools and more human mentoring. Independent study is great, and all these students demonstrated admirable autonomy and breadth of knowledge, but at the same time all agreed that it would be nice to have human Yodas to turn to now and then. Here is an opportunity for academia to forge stronger partnerships with the industry itself. The fractious relationship between developers and scholars is not doing students any good.

Something academics tend to forget is that intolerance penetrates vertically. The four panelists all bemoaned the fact that not only did that have to deal with the usual doubts of guidance counselors and parents, but that their studies were even stigmatized among the student body. Sadly, until the discipline matures a bit, studying games at the college level is going to be perceived as the electronic equivalent of underwater basket weaving.

Knights Of The Round

With the lunch bell came the breakup of the workshop attendance into roundtables for discussion of seven specific issues related to curriculum development. Reports from these were shared briefly at the end of the workshop, but in truth each subject could probably have occupied a full-day session on its own.

The discussions ranged from practicalities like how to best make games in a classroom environment to deeper speculation on studying game cultures or applying critical game analysis. Since the workshop enjoyed a highly diverse attendance – a pretty even mix of academics, developers and students – the roundtables were an ideal opportunity for all views to be heard.

More open debate between the three categories of industry people is necessary, not only to flesh out curriculum frameworks, but to address issues that have led to unnecessary schisms and factionalization. The truth is, we don't know for sure what the best game studies curriculum will contain, and open-forum discussion is the only way to find out.

How It's Done

Rob Catto from Full Sail took the podium as the first speaker on the subject of existing curricular models – what's being done right now.

Full Sail is the technocrat's word for technocratic education; Rob's discourse on the school's hyper-accelerated B.S. program in Software Engineering/Game Development was enough to make a liberal arts major shrivel in his seat. The painfully intense curriculum is packed with four-hour lectures and similarly daunting instructor-led lab sessions, and Catto's remarks made it clear that students entering Full Sail would come out the other end prepared to do anything, as long as “anything” is programming.

As one of the few schools out there with a long(ish) track record and alumni whose credits include several major studio titles, it's hard to fault Full Sail's approach. But the fact is, if a student comes out of college knowing how to program and that's it, they may have a harder time than one well-versed in all aspects of development. Being a good programmer is not always enough to make a good game, and despite the team-building exercises the school requires, it's also not necessarily enough to hold your own creatively in an industry where increasingly everyone is doing a little of everything.

On the slightly more moderate side is Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute, from which Katherine Isbister hails. With its research requirement and classes on history and culture of games, narrative, and experimental design, RPI's B.S. in Game and Simulation Arts & Sciences is definitely a more liberal one than Full Sail's. And the fact that both Vicarious Visions and Cryptic Studios were founded by RPI alums demonstrates that the school is able to teach successful developers.

European scholars, particularly in Scandinavia, have historically approached game studies differently than American universities, preferring to focus on theme-oriented education with an emphasis on research into games as cultural artifacts and art development for games. Jeroen van Mastrigt and Marinka Copier of the Utrecht School of the Arts and University of Utrecht in the Netherlands provided an interesting window into the curricula, which is heavily invested in DiGRA. They offer multiple degree paths, some both for development and studies, and have enjoyed tremendous growth since the inception of the minor-only program in 2000.

Drew Davidson of The Art Institute of Pittsburgh made a very important point in his lecture on the solid art-oriented curriculum offered at AIP. “Students with game design degress,” he said, “are not limited to the game industry.” That's absolutely true, and should be advertised more often. Game design introduces the learner to a variety of potential career paths. Graphic design, e-Learning, education, research, simulations, software engineering, advertising and many more fields would be wide open for a well-rounded game development/studies graduate.

Though each institution's programs had their own unique qualities, all the speakers agreed on certain points. Perhaps the most significant was the necessity of an industry-based advisory panel that could review the curricula and make recommendations. A school setting out to create a game studies program with no industry input is kind of shooting in the dark: it might work out, but then again it might not. After all, the industry knows better than anyone else what it needs.

Build Me An Army Of EA

What the industry wants and needs from game studies programs was next on the agenda. John Buchanan (the soon to be ex university relations dude from EA) speechified on the need for fully integrated software development education, on eliminating the barrier between the programmer and the machine. “The job of the academe is to produce software engineers, not C++ programmers,” he said. In a way, his Zen and the Art of Computer Maintenance approach is like technical humanities for computers, treating PCs as somewhat spiritual machines.

Nihilistic's Rob Hubner, meanwhile, took a much more brass-tacks approach: a huge number of jobs in the industry don't fall cleanly into any role taught in game education programs. There is no path for game mechanics, technical artists or production pipeline engineers. Graduates must learn a lot of new material before they're of use to a studio that has practical needs rather than the pie-in-the-sky “I want to make games” attitude. The point is that “I want to make games” isn't concise enough, and classes that address the specific functional needs for the industry are in desperately short supply.

As game developers, John and Rob's interest is very pragmatic, going all the way back to the original point that there's no use in learning how to make splendid games if you never learn how to make games in the first place. Both would probably be thrilled to have someone with specific instruction in the roles they need filled and a more solid grip on the way future games should be made, but the industry view is the correct one: the practicalities must be the priority. And yet disciplines of study should not be tailored as a way to fill want ads. There is more to the medium than job descriptions.

Part of this issue will be resolved organically as game curricula grow and development education merges with theoretical studies. Right now only a handful of classes are offered at most institutions, and many programs are limited to two years. Educators will eventually recognize the need for diversification of the discipline and developers will appreciate the advent of graduates with the specific skills they require and the liberal understanding of games necessary to make the next generation outshine the current one.

John Buchanan said that he often looks at out-of-curriculum studies and experience as the key in his hiring practices. In response, Marinka Copier asked the question that essentially defines the entire purpose of the daylong workshop: “then why don't we bring that stuff into the curriculum?”

The Working Model

Katie Salen spoke on current efforts to bridge the gap between industry and academics. The “gap” in this case is not the occasionally antagonistic relationship between the two, but the things students can do while in school to learn about and prepare for the real thing once they've graduated.

Competitions such as the Independent Games Festival are increasing in popularity and have already produced some remarkably innovative material. Collaborations between academia and industry introduce students to day-to-day life in the business. Student outreach, internships and other industry bridge-building opportunities are on the rise. There is also the IGDA, which constantly agitates for permanent links between academia and development. After all, whatever you think of game academics, the fact is they are teaching the students who will be working for you down the road. It's better to take a hand in what they're doing than to ignore them.

Carnegie Mellon's program two year program is among the best-designed in the field, providing a structured education with massive focus on team exercises, industry internships and regular development tasks designed to promote innovation by discouraging students from developing what they already know. Jesse Schell, one of the architects of the program, outlined the process and then added the cherry of 95% industry placement for graduates.

The Carnegie Mellon model is a perfect, proven starting point for a theoretical four year program that should appease advocates of greater focus on liberal game studies and those in the industry who want education to add more specialized courses to address the industry's need. If CMU can manage all that in two years, adding another two would make it possible to include courses on theory, genre study, major games, thematic impact, criticism, advanced storytelling, culture, innovation techniques, business basics and, of course, specialist electives like technical art to satisfy the practical needs of the industry.

What's Next

Elsewhere throughout the conference, everyone seemed focused on the future; this year's slogan was “What's Next,” and attendees took it seriously. In addition to an optimism about the future, there was increased speculation about the precipice on which the industry stands. Make no mistake, games and development are about to change, to evolve. What that next stage of evolution is depends partly on what the next generation of developers, currently enrolled in game programs, choose to make it.

As a long-time proponent of the need for more theoretical education in game programs, my position is fairly clear. Like film schools, we cannot simply focus on the nuts and bolts of production. Games are both art and technology; to educate new developers on only one part of that equation would be foolish and self-destructive. The biggest mistake curriculum developers could make is ignoring the impact of games. We cannot simply teach how to make them and never discuss what they do or mean. We have to do both.

Just a few years ago, the concept of game studies would have been laughed off at every level of civilization. Games are fun; they're not worthy of serious study. But now, though far from full acceptance, it's a legitimate scholarly discipline.

And well it should be. Games have been with us since the beginning of time, evolving alongside humans through the ages to become what they are today. That something so integrally part of global culture has been so long ignored as an academic pursuit is shocking. Now that it is the focus of significant attention, it's no longer a matter of getting games accepted as worthy of study – it's a matter of studying them in a way that benefits humanity, as all art should.

 

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Authors' Bio

Eric Zimmerman Matthew Sakey is a writer and consultant. His work includes games-based learning design, curriculum design for game studies programs and research into the cultural impact of the medium. Matthew has written on gaming for Play Meter and Game Developer magazines, AOL, MSN, and others. He reviews games as “Steerpike” at www.fourfatchicks.com and consults with researchers and corporate clients interested in leveraging game technologies for learning. For more information, visit www.matthewsakey.net or email him at matthewsakey -at- comcast -dot- net.

The opinions expressed in this article do not necessarily represent the IGDA.