Culture Clash Mar09

(March 2009)

Camping the Kitchen Table

Social play never changes

Good thing my correspondents from last month's column were a big hit, as some of them get a return appearance in this conversation, transcribed almost exactly as it occurred during a game of Left 4 Dead. Consider that while the words may be vastly different from those used by Thursday night poker groups, the language of getting together to play is always the same:

JD: Sakey, what are you doing?
STEERPIKE: I'm over here.
JD: Why are you over there?
STEERPIKE: I'm looking for health.
AJAX : I just gave you health.
STEERPIKE: I… I lost that health.
AJAX : I just gave it to y- holy crap , Matt, you have four health!
STEERPIKE: I had an accident.
MANGE: The Tank sat on him while you were lagging.
STEERPIKE: I was trying to save Vince.
JD: You ran up to a Tank and hit it with the butt of your gun.
STEERPIKE: And then killed it. To save my friend from a gruesome fate. A fate worse than-
MANGE: I was fine. I wasn't even near it. I was down the hall.
STEERPIKE: Look, I admit mistakes were made, but I present exhibit A: one dead Tank.
JD: You are no longer allowed to approach the Tank. Do you understand? You will respect a no-Tank zone from now on.
STEERPIKE: It's not my fault, they just… they just like me.
AJAX : Dude, you're a black hole for medkits.

I wouldn't say I'm particularly good at Left 4 Dead. What I lack in skill I make up for in enthusiasm, and it really isn't the kind of game that rewards reckless enthusiasm. But still I love playing it with my friends. Not long ago, people would gather and play pinochle or Trivial Pursuit, sitting around the table, beer and pretzels flowing, enjoying the pleasures of company and a game. Some do still. It's a chance to visit, chat, unwind – to spend time with friends and be entertained in a way that still encourages conversation. Now some of us gather around consoles or computer screens, socializing with friends who may be a world away. The core experience, though, is functionally the same and fulfills the same basic human desire for shared camaraderie and challenge.

There is a certain generational anachronism to be considered. Bridge groups are not part of my worldview any more than Left 4 Dead is part of my Mom's. In addition to the obvious ludic differences, bridge groups really do get together around the kitchen table; L4D usually doesn't work that way. My “organized” L4D play is usually scheduled via email the day of, and I'm playing and socializing with members of a far-flung network: one's in New York, another in Chicago, five in Michigan, one in Florida, one in London. But we're together, and they can berate me just as easily from the UK as my Mom could berate her bridge partner for… well, for whatever the bridge equivalent of rifle-whipping a Tank when someone just gave you their medkit is.

When the local gang does get together for a game, it's not for poker. My favorites are Arkham Horror and Pandemic. One of my friends, a boardgame designer, has us playtesting his latest opus, set in a maximum security prison. I ask you, could bridge be more rewarding than shanking your best friend with a toothbrush handle melted and sharpened to a needle-like point? Could collecting a tiny plastic pie slice for knowing that light bulb filaments are made out of tungsten possibly compare to the sweet, sweet roar of an auto-shotgun as it sets the zombie horde to rights? The games being played around the table have changed, or evolved, since civilization existed. But the social format rarely does.

Whether across the table or across the world, friends did and still do get together for a game, because they can play and converse and share a sense of group while occupying their minds. And while there's always a place – a huge place, in the case of videogames – for solitary, single-player titles, the game experience is different when played in a group, whether the game's cooperative or not. The group allows us to combine the pleasure of time in the company of friends or loved ones with the pattern-based trials for which the brain hungers. Raph Koster tells us that good games create challenges that task the brain in a certain way; adding a social element to the mix can only deepen the value of the experience. Salen and Zimmerman tell us that the game is made more rewarding by the social interaction, and the social interaction made more rewarding by the game.

It's surprising, given that the idea of gathering to play is one almost as old as humanity itself, that videogame makers don't spend more time creating products that are conducive to same-room play. “Multiplayer” is usually viewed as an online service; there aren't that many split-screen or same-room games out there, compared to the whole canon. Things like voice chat and the ability to self-select who you play with make online gaming an adequate social alternative, but perhaps game developers are missing a market here by not providing more games suitable for small groups in the same location. The Wii seems to be moving a lot of such titles.

Casually observed, someone's bridge group might seem awfully different from my Left 4 Dead play – a veritable culture clash, if you will. But really that's only in the game we play and how we play it. Speaking even from my position, that of a die-hard single player fan who has very little interest multiplayer at all, playing with friends is valuable whether or not they're physically in the room. Sharing play of any kind with people you love, together or apart, is a core driver of human social interaction, and one of the most inherent and primitive benefits games themselves.