The Paradox of Game Playing

[Patrick]

I'm just dashing these words off, but this thought has been on my mind
for years. In a way, it's been haunting me all my life. I wonder if
anyone else will be able to relate.

We speak of *playing* games, and to me "play" connotes something fun,
frivolous, or diversionary--something perhaps akin to the make-believe
antics of little children. Anytime I set out to *play,* I'm
automatically expecting emotional (and perhaps physical) pleasure.
And I *don't* expect anything serious or productive--anything I'd have
to *work* at.

To my mind, "work" and "play" are antonyms. Anytime I set out to
*work* at something, I expect it to be sober, productive activity.
Arriving at the goal is the imperative, and everything else is
optional or incidental. I don't expect to find pleasure of any kind
in the activity (though at times I might). At most, I'll experience
some satisfaction in the end, for a job well done.

Maybe it's that sharp mental distinction that causes me no end of
problems with games. I don't know. Maybe I need to redefine my
terms--or even learn to experience both work and play in new ways.

Anyhow, every time I think about playing a game, I undergo a little
internal struggle. Part of me is thinking, "Oh, goodie--a game!
That'll be fun. I like to play!" And another part of me is saying,
"A game--hmm--that's going to require some thought and careful
attention; it could be hard work."

And in the middle of playing a game, that internal struggle can
intensify. If I run into serious challenges, one side of me starts
whining: "Hey, I came here to play! It was supposed to be fun. This
is no fun anymore!" Meanwhile, the sober, intellectual side of me is
saying, "I knew this would be tough. Don't know if I can possibly
make it to the goal; I need to work harder at this than ever."

Sometimes the very choice of a game--or the choice of opponents or
what level to play on--is based on my choosing one of those "inner
voices" to listen to. The serious side of me, the "work" side, wants
to play games like chess and go--games that I'd have to work at, but
which might lead to that satisfying feeling of a job well done. The
frivolous side of me, the "play" side, demands that if I do play a
game like chess or go, I play it on an easy level (against the
computer) or against a weak opponent, perhaps as a teaching game.
Otherwise, that playful side of me would much prefer a game with a big
chance element or one that engages the imagination in a big way (e.g.,
a wargame or RPG).

In all my fifty-four years, I've been unable to reconcile this
internal duality very well. The best I've come up with is to choose
in-between games--games like dominoes or cribbage or backgammon. They
involve enough work to satisfy my serious side, but they involve
enough chance to soothe my playful side. Wargames with sizable luck
elements also work, and they're better sometimes, in that they also
delight my imagination (which my playful side especially loves).

Still, whenever a game of backgammon turns decidedly against me, I'm
apt to respond with an emotional outburst. If I'm playing on the
computer, my wife will probably hear my cursing and swearing all over
the house. If it's a face-to-face game, I'll just grit my teeth and
hold it all inside, but my opponent may detect a grumble in my voice.
It's the "play" side of me shouting, "Hey, this wasn't supposed to be
work! It was supposed to be something fun and pleasurable!"

By way of analogy, playing a game that turns serious is like trying to
make love to someone who keeps scowling at you and telling you you're
doing it all wrong. Something that was supposed to be just fun, easy,
natural, and pleasurable suddenly becomes locked down into a thankless
and difficult task.

And unfortunately, I bring that upon myself all the time. It's just
the way I'm built, the way my mind works. I can't permanently stifle
either side of myself. I want the easy fun of just playing, but I
also want the satisfaction of triumphing over challenges. Anytime I'm
at work, my mind drifts toward wanting to take a break and just play.
Anytime I'm playing, my mind drifts toward wanting to work at the
endeavor, excel, and become stronger. Hence, to me, a game is never
just a game; it's never *just* for fun. It's always work *and* play.
But I can't do either of those things very well without disappointing
the other side of myself.

Sometimes it seems like a lose-lose situation.

I used to wonder if socializing would balance or correct the problem.
It doesn't really. It's good in other ways--in that it gets me out of
myself and stops me from overthinking. But after an evening of gaming
with friends, I always end up with mixed feelings. On one hand, we
had a good time; I enjoyed the company and had some fun with the
game. At the same time, I did OK in the game and can be satisfied by
some of the moves I made or by what I accomplished. But because I had
to work at the game, I didn't interact with people as much as I'd have
liked to; and because there were people to entertain and interact
with, I wasn't able to focus and try to excel at my game as much as I
wanted to.

So, I guess it's a catch-22.

Not sure what to make of this, but it seems like a paradox to me.
Just thought I'd get it off my chest here.

[John McLeod]

On Wed, 5 Aug 2009, Patrick <p55ca...@gmail.com> wrote:
>To my mind, "work" and "play" are antonyms. Anytime I set out to
>*work* at something, I expect it to be sober, productive activity.
>Arriving at the goal is the imperative, and everything else is optional
>or incidental. I don't expect to find pleasure of any kind in the
>activity (though at times I might). At most, I'll experience some
>satisfaction in the end, for a job well done.
>
>Maybe it's that sharp mental distinction that causes me no end of
>problems with games.

What immediately struck me about this is the implication that one
shouldn't expect work to be enjoyable. That seems rather sad. Of course
many people have to earn their living doing something that gives them no
pleasure, but it seems worth at least aspiring to find a job that one
likes. If you don't expect it you probably won't find it.

I realise that I'm answering a slightly different point from the one you
were making, but to me work and play are not really antonyms.
--
John McLeod For information on card games visit
jo...@pagat.com http://www.pagat.com/

[Sukunai]

I hear ya Patrick.

I have known work I couldn't really call work, because I found it too
enjoyable. I had plans to run a wood working business. I suspect the
only portion that would have felt like work, was the office portion of
getting contracts and seeing to the daily paperwork. But anything out
in the shop would have been play time. I LIKE to make things with
wood. Doesn't matter how much effort is involved, because it's too
fun. No less fun than a hard sports game like football or soccer.

With games, the moment it isn't fun, it isn't a game, it's a
simulation.
That's why some wargames can be less than fun, and I personally think
are running the risk of becoming a dying art form as people just don't
call them fun much any more.
There's simply nothing wrong with a complex thinking game being simply
to actually play. Chess does this fine enough I guess. it's not like
it's hard to explain how to play.

I play a lot of Civilization IV mainly because it's hardly difficult
to play it from the running it perspective. But it does take some
thinking.
But some people just can't let go of an out of control obsession with
factoids. Some wargames are so bloody obsessed with proper accurate
details in the extreme that they kill off the playability of the game.
You make a great detailed mega wargame, and you only sell 1000 units,
is that supposed to be a success? I'd rather make a fun playable
wargame, less obsessed with detail maybe, and sell 100,000 units.

[Patrick]

On Aug 5, 6:35 pm, John McLeod <j...@pagat.com> wrote:

> What immediately struck me about this is the implication that one
> shouldn't expect work to be enjoyable. That seems rather sad. Of course
> many people have to earn their living doing something that gives them no
> pleasure, but it seems worth at least aspiring to find a job that one
> likes. If you don't expect it you probably won't find it.
>
> I realise that I'm answering a slightly different point from the one you
> were making, but to me work and play are not really antonyms.

Well, when it comes to having a job or career and going to work, yes,
there ought to be some enjoyment in that. If you don't love it, why
do it (unless you're in the position of having to do most anything
just to feed your family)?

When I used the word "work" in my post, I was thinking mainly of day-
to-day chores: washing dishes, doing laundry, vacuuming, mowing the
lawn, tidying up clutter, and so forth. My wife doesn't often help a
lot with those things, and we can't afford servants; so I end up doing
them myself. I never really like doing any of those things, but they
need to be done. And I seem to spend a good portion of my life doing
them. It's OK; I usually keep a positive attitude and make the best
of it. But I can't say it's fun. Indeed, if I won the lottery or
something, I might never do any of those things again; I'd pay someone
else to do them.

As to my job, I've been at it for some twenty-eight years, and I'm
very happy with it. I work as an editor at a nonprofit organization.
Don't make a lot of money, but the work I do seems especially
important, fulfilling, satisfying, and often enjoyable. Of course,
there are good days and bad days. And there are always things I wish
were different. But all in all, it's great.

In my previous post, though, I was talking about playing games.

When I decide to play a game, I'm expecting it to be something fun,
easy, natural, and delightful. Something like the kind of spontaneous
play that children do. Or maybe like making love. Or relaxing in
your den with a whiskey and cigar (or coffee and a scone--whatever you
like). It's a leisure-time activity, so I automatically feel an
emotional thrill and look forward to it.

Partway into the game, however, it hits me that I'm experiencing
tension or racking my brain. Suddenly I can't afford to just play.
If I'm going to stand a chance of winning, I have to buckle down and
*work* at it. I have to set goals and think my way through to those
goals, then painstakingly execute my plan, watching for hurdles and
carefully adjusting all along the way. As a matter of fact, I have to
work harder than I ever do when I'm at my desk at the office. And
some of what needs to be done in the game feels more like the
household chores that I'm so often stuck doing--tidying up the game
board, making sure my cards are in order, carrying out the prescribed
procedures turn after turn.

When I stop and think about it, a game is essentially just mental
exercise. It's exactly like the daily physical workout I do, except
that I'm working my mind instead of my body.

That, to me, is a far cry from spontaneous children's games, making
love, or eating strawberry shortcake and watching a favorite movie.
Those things I consider true "play"; but a game is more like a mental
workout.

Sure, there are social and imaginative trappings, but they only
disguise the fact that a game is a form of mental exercise. Instead
of doing calisthenics in my basement, sometimes I might go play tennis
with friends; but it's still a physical workout either way. Likewise,
a game is a mental workout even if I'm playing it with others and
enjoying the theme.

I'm the kind of person who likes to keep what I'm calling "work" and
"play" separate. I do a daily physical workout, but I hate the
thought of going to a gym and playing raquetball--or joining a biking
or hiking club or whatever. I just want to go down to my basement by
myself and spent forty-five minutes exercising, and be done with it.
I do it because it's good for me--because it needs to be done. I
don't hate it, but I sure don't look forward to it the way I might
look forward to my morning coffee.

In contrast, every Monday and Friday morning, I get together with a
friend at a local coffee shop. And I do look forward to having coffee
and a scone, chatting, people watching, and having a relaxing break
before returning to work. That's "play," and I don't do it just to
get it over with; I do it because it's fun.

I like to think of games as fun too. But what I notice is that they
always turn out to be work, and that confuses me.

Because it confuses me, sometimes I shrug and say to myself, "OK,
then, games are just mental exercise; so I'll treat them that way."
Then I'll forget all about the social aspect or immersive themes or
whatever, and I'll just make up my mind to study chess or play
solitaire. Instead of trying to have fun, I'll approach games solely
as a mental workout. I'll do it, keep a positive attitude about it,
and get it over with.

I guess to me "work" is anything you just want to get through and be
done with; "play" is anything you're enjoying so much that you want it
to linger on awhile. When I'm washing dishes, I never wish there were
another stack of them to do; when it's over, I'm just glad to be
done. Same with my daily physical workout; I never wish I could stick
around and do a couple more sets of push-ups.

When I'm playing a game, I feel it *ought* to be something I want to
prolong. And indeed there are certain specific aspects of the
experience that I do wish could last longer: namely, the imaginative
immersion and the socializing. If I'm playing a game with a great
group of people, I'm happy if the socializing continues long into the
night. Or if I'm playing an elaborate, involved, heavily themed
computer game by myself, I might want to stay in front of the computer
for hours on end, losing myself in make-believe.

But the *main* aspect of the game--the core of any game, as I've come
to see it--is mental exercise. And I can quickly get my fill of
that. As I said in my previous post, I get to where I'm saying to
myself, "Hey, this is too much work! It's hard, and I hadn't planned
to struggle with this. This is supposed to be a time for play, not a
time to be racking my brain, taking risks, and pursuing goals."

At the same time, the mental exercise, to me, justifies gaming. If it
weren't for the mental exercise, I might as well be sitting mesmerized
in front of the TV. Gaming, then, would be a useless pastime--a waste
of time.

So, I want it to be a good workout--but I don't want to have to work
at it. I want it to be fun and easy, and yet good for me too. And
I'm not sure how to reconcile all that.

--Patrick