Thought I'd bring back this blog with some articles on comics to read and games to play, and what better way to start than with an oddly controversial topic.
MS Paint Adventures: Homestuck — or just Homestuck, for the sake of simplicity — is an unusually divisive subject. There are those who hate it with a passion, who deride it for its convoluted story or its predictability, and who subsequently loath anything related to it, including, and especially, its fanbase. Then there are those love it with an equal, if not superior, passion, who fill online forums to discuss the direction of the story and its underlying themes, who cosplay characters at conventions, who produce fan art, fan music, and (for better or worse) fan fiction.
But why? What is Homestuck really? And why does it cause such conflict? And why should anyone consider taking a look at it? In the following article, I shall endeavor to answer these questions, and maybe a few more.
Friday, October 5, 2012
Saturday, April 14, 2012
When Play Becomes Work
Well, I'm surprised it took this long, but it has finally gotten to the point where I subconsciously acknowledge that playing games for a class is technically "work", and it has thus become more exhausting than pleasurable. I knew this would happen eventually, but I was hoping it would take its sweet old time.
I must confess, come the end of the academic year I always become rather apathetic, and this year I have a nasty case of senioritis to boot. What really drove it home though was how aware I needed to be while playing games in order to make sure I met certain requirements for this class. I love playing video games, but when I start keeping an eye on the in-game clock, or when I'm opening my Achievements window every hour or so to see if I accomplished anything, it becomes tiresome. What was once enjoyable transforms into something tedious.
As much as I love keeping track of my progress, as feedback is pretty much the only thing that lets me move through a task without losing my sanity, being obsessive about it is almost as frustrating as not having any feedback at all. While playing FFVIII, every time I saved, I looked at the clock. If the time was about 2 hours since my last screenshot, I took a new screenshot, and then quit for the night. If it wasn't, I would continue playing. The second I hit 20 hours, I considered myself done. I didn't plan to do the Gee sidequests, and finishing the game only would have net me 50xp, so anything past the initial 20 hours would have just been eating up my free time (the closest I have ever gotten to beating that game put me past 60 hours; I did not have that kind of time or energy this semester).
I think the biggest problem was simply how I play video games. I tend to float between two extremes: play for a half hour or so, doing little things, and not caring about how much I've accomplished, or playing for several hours and not caring how long I've been staring at a screen (and also not caring about how much I've accomplished). With this class, I needed to learn how to budget my playing time, which is not something I've ever really done before. Gaming has always been that thing I do between working, but now I was treating it like work. Furthermore, I needed to start examining the progress I was making, instead of just enjoying the experience, which is also something I dislike about "work" in general.
This class was designed for those who don't play video games and don't read comic books. The goal of the class was to teach students to think critically about media that they normally would disregard. My problem was that I walked in considering video games and comic books as art and literature; I was able to use the comic book part of the class as time to geek out about philosophy/politics/social issues in comic books, but I wasn't quite able to do that with the video game part, as that was more geared towards teaching students unfamiliar with games how to play them, how to work together, and how to use games as a social platform. Being a gamer (albeit not an avid one, but one with a history nonetheless), I was already fairly experienced in this regard, and spent most of my time patiently waiting for the other students to catch up.
Don't get me wrong, class discussions managed to maintain my interest, but the discussions revolved around the required reading, such as Reality is Broken or Synthetic Worlds, not so much the games we were playing. The personal obsession with meeting meager in-game goals mixed with the lack of time to laugh about how hilariously overpowered I was in the games I was playing made gaming feel like not just a waste of time, but an unnecessarily exhausting one at that, with few real rewards.
I may not be an English major, but I do enjoy writing and thinking about various things I enjoy, such as comics and video games. I feel like I would have continued to enjoy the games I was playing if instead of focusing on the time I was playing or the Achievements I've accomplished, I could instead play to my heart's content, not caring about how long I've played or what I've actually done, and just chronicle my experiences after the fact.
Bah, forget it. What I'm trying to say I guess is that I hate being forced to do something that I would otherwise enjoy doing. I have the same thing with reading books. If I want to read a book, I can burn through it no problem, but if I MUST read a book, for a class, and have to take notes or write a paper or whatever, I cease to enjoy reading, because now I can't focus on the book, as I'm constantly thinking about what I will be doing with the material.
Just like reading though, I doubt this will actually stop me from enjoying gaming, once I'm no longer forced to do it. The second I'm done with this semester, I expect to go on a several-day Spiral Knights/Crash Bandicoot binge.
I must confess, come the end of the academic year I always become rather apathetic, and this year I have a nasty case of senioritis to boot. What really drove it home though was how aware I needed to be while playing games in order to make sure I met certain requirements for this class. I love playing video games, but when I start keeping an eye on the in-game clock, or when I'm opening my Achievements window every hour or so to see if I accomplished anything, it becomes tiresome. What was once enjoyable transforms into something tedious.
As much as I love keeping track of my progress, as feedback is pretty much the only thing that lets me move through a task without losing my sanity, being obsessive about it is almost as frustrating as not having any feedback at all. While playing FFVIII, every time I saved, I looked at the clock. If the time was about 2 hours since my last screenshot, I took a new screenshot, and then quit for the night. If it wasn't, I would continue playing. The second I hit 20 hours, I considered myself done. I didn't plan to do the Gee sidequests, and finishing the game only would have net me 50xp, so anything past the initial 20 hours would have just been eating up my free time (the closest I have ever gotten to beating that game put me past 60 hours; I did not have that kind of time or energy this semester).
I think the biggest problem was simply how I play video games. I tend to float between two extremes: play for a half hour or so, doing little things, and not caring about how much I've accomplished, or playing for several hours and not caring how long I've been staring at a screen (and also not caring about how much I've accomplished). With this class, I needed to learn how to budget my playing time, which is not something I've ever really done before. Gaming has always been that thing I do between working, but now I was treating it like work. Furthermore, I needed to start examining the progress I was making, instead of just enjoying the experience, which is also something I dislike about "work" in general.
This class was designed for those who don't play video games and don't read comic books. The goal of the class was to teach students to think critically about media that they normally would disregard. My problem was that I walked in considering video games and comic books as art and literature; I was able to use the comic book part of the class as time to geek out about philosophy/politics/social issues in comic books, but I wasn't quite able to do that with the video game part, as that was more geared towards teaching students unfamiliar with games how to play them, how to work together, and how to use games as a social platform. Being a gamer (albeit not an avid one, but one with a history nonetheless), I was already fairly experienced in this regard, and spent most of my time patiently waiting for the other students to catch up.
Don't get me wrong, class discussions managed to maintain my interest, but the discussions revolved around the required reading, such as Reality is Broken or Synthetic Worlds, not so much the games we were playing. The personal obsession with meeting meager in-game goals mixed with the lack of time to laugh about how hilariously overpowered I was in the games I was playing made gaming feel like not just a waste of time, but an unnecessarily exhausting one at that, with few real rewards.
I may not be an English major, but I do enjoy writing and thinking about various things I enjoy, such as comics and video games. I feel like I would have continued to enjoy the games I was playing if instead of focusing on the time I was playing or the Achievements I've accomplished, I could instead play to my heart's content, not caring about how long I've played or what I've actually done, and just chronicle my experiences after the fact.
Bah, forget it. What I'm trying to say I guess is that I hate being forced to do something that I would otherwise enjoy doing. I have the same thing with reading books. If I want to read a book, I can burn through it no problem, but if I MUST read a book, for a class, and have to take notes or write a paper or whatever, I cease to enjoy reading, because now I can't focus on the book, as I'm constantly thinking about what I will be doing with the material.
Just like reading though, I doubt this will actually stop me from enjoying gaming, once I'm no longer forced to do it. The second I'm done with this semester, I expect to go on a several-day Spiral Knights/Crash Bandicoot binge.
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
Party of One, or Why I Don't Like Playing With Other People
I grew up playing video games largely by myself. I have siblings, but we didn't have many multiplayer games, and those few that we did have were one-on-one. Additionally, I have been driven to do things by myself since I was young; I loath group work, and I prefer to do original work instead of piggy-backing off of previous research or development.
This is why when I play an MMO I tend to solo as much as possible. Pretty much the only time I wind up in a party is when I am forced to, either by the game itself or by some outside pressure, such as a friend needing help with a quest. When I play, I pay attention to the game. I don't chat, and I'm not outwardly friendly. If I must be in a party, I fulfill my role silently and efficiently, as I prefer to in real life. If a party member wants or needs to leave, I waste no energy in attempting to persuade them to stay.
Such antisocial behavior must look strange in a medium designed to bring people together, but that's how I am, and that's how I play. Frequently, it is also the absolute worst way to play.
Take your average group-oriented quest, found in pretty much every MMORPG. For an example, I recently needed to slay two large monsters in World of Warcraft, Luzran and Knucklerot. The quest description says you should have a party of at least three people. When I first ran into Luzran, I noted he was level 21, and I was at a very lazy 17. He was big. Very big. I stayed away from him as best as possible, but another quest in that area brought me a bit too close, and he attacked. I ran, barely surviving the encounter, but the nearby monsters finished me off before I could heal.
A couple levels later, I returned, with some new abilities, better equipment, and a more comfortable hotkey configuration. We were both level 21 now. And in a couple minutes, I had defeated him, entirely by myself. I laughed at the quest's description suggestion two other party members. The amount of experience I gained had less of an impact than if I had been at a lower level, but I didn't care. The prize was that I did it by myself.
I spent the next couple minutes trying to find Knucklerot, but as far as I could tell, he had gone for a walk (as he is apt to do), and wouldn't be back for a while. No matter, I had other quests to complete; he could wait.
It might sound ridiculous, or even reckless, but I tend to do such things rather frequently. I'm handed a quest that should be performed by multiple players, and I will power level and grind and optimize my tactics until I can complete the quest by myself. I've never liked accepting help, so being able to fell a large and powerful beast by myself is something of a point of pride. If I currently cannot defeat it without assistance, I will work until I can.
It probably makes one wonder why I play MMO's to begin with if all I'm going to do is solo the entire time. The answer is really not all that complex: it's not the opportunity to meet and play with other people that attracts me, it's the world of the game that I find irresistible. It's always changing. Patch after patch alter it in subtle or significant ways, and while I don't like playing with others, I find a certain amusement in just watching people interact (local and trade chats are often quite hilarious).
Some people view MMO's as an exciting new frontier, where everything is different. In all truth, the games are merely extensions of the real world; no matter how fantastic the game world, it is always presented in a form that is ultimately familiar. Many players act in-game as they would in real-life, and those that don't probably wish they could act in real-life like they do in-game. As for me? I prefer to remain antisocial, regardless of how detrimental it may be to my ranking; self-sufficiency is the only reward I desire.
This is why when I play an MMO I tend to solo as much as possible. Pretty much the only time I wind up in a party is when I am forced to, either by the game itself or by some outside pressure, such as a friend needing help with a quest. When I play, I pay attention to the game. I don't chat, and I'm not outwardly friendly. If I must be in a party, I fulfill my role silently and efficiently, as I prefer to in real life. If a party member wants or needs to leave, I waste no energy in attempting to persuade them to stay.
Such antisocial behavior must look strange in a medium designed to bring people together, but that's how I am, and that's how I play. Frequently, it is also the absolute worst way to play.
Take your average group-oriented quest, found in pretty much every MMORPG. For an example, I recently needed to slay two large monsters in World of Warcraft, Luzran and Knucklerot. The quest description says you should have a party of at least three people. When I first ran into Luzran, I noted he was level 21, and I was at a very lazy 17. He was big. Very big. I stayed away from him as best as possible, but another quest in that area brought me a bit too close, and he attacked. I ran, barely surviving the encounter, but the nearby monsters finished me off before I could heal.
A couple levels later, I returned, with some new abilities, better equipment, and a more comfortable hotkey configuration. We were both level 21 now. And in a couple minutes, I had defeated him, entirely by myself. I laughed at the quest's description suggestion two other party members. The amount of experience I gained had less of an impact than if I had been at a lower level, but I didn't care. The prize was that I did it by myself.
I spent the next couple minutes trying to find Knucklerot, but as far as I could tell, he had gone for a walk (as he is apt to do), and wouldn't be back for a while. No matter, I had other quests to complete; he could wait.
It might sound ridiculous, or even reckless, but I tend to do such things rather frequently. I'm handed a quest that should be performed by multiple players, and I will power level and grind and optimize my tactics until I can complete the quest by myself. I've never liked accepting help, so being able to fell a large and powerful beast by myself is something of a point of pride. If I currently cannot defeat it without assistance, I will work until I can.
It probably makes one wonder why I play MMO's to begin with if all I'm going to do is solo the entire time. The answer is really not all that complex: it's not the opportunity to meet and play with other people that attracts me, it's the world of the game that I find irresistible. It's always changing. Patch after patch alter it in subtle or significant ways, and while I don't like playing with others, I find a certain amusement in just watching people interact (local and trade chats are often quite hilarious).
Some people view MMO's as an exciting new frontier, where everything is different. In all truth, the games are merely extensions of the real world; no matter how fantastic the game world, it is always presented in a form that is ultimately familiar. Many players act in-game as they would in real-life, and those that don't probably wish they could act in real-life like they do in-game. As for me? I prefer to remain antisocial, regardless of how detrimental it may be to my ranking; self-sufficiency is the only reward I desire.
Saturday, March 3, 2012
The Value (and Legality) of Emulators
I'm a pretty big fan of the Final Fantasy series. I recognize it's not the best franchise, but I still enjoy playing them. One of my favorite games in the series, for completely arbitrary reasons, is Final Fantasy VIII. It was the first one I ever played, and despite owning a copy of the game for a little over a decade, I have yet to beat it, only getting as far as the third disc before abandoning it for some reason or another.
The reason I'm bringing this up is because of an assignment in this class that requires we play a story-heavy game for 20+ hours. An additional assignment asks that we finish the game, though this isn't required, and some writing might be involved (I don't have my syllabus handy as I'm typing this). Regardless, I saw this as the perfect opportunity to try to beat FFVIII.
The only problem was, I didn't have the discs handy, nor did I feel like monopolizing the TV in my suite's common room. Of course, me being computer savvy, I already had the perfect solution: run isos of the discs in a PlayStation emulator on my computer.
For those who don't know what emulators are, they are applications that simulate a video game console (or old-school computer systems) on your personal computer. You play games by downloading a "rom", which is the game's data ripped from it's medium (cartridge or disc) stored a file on a computer, and then loading the rom into the emulator application. After that, it's like playing any other computer game, with a keyboard (or other input devices) acting as a surrogate for the original system's controllers.
The legality of emulators and roms are debated around the world. Many nations have recognized that emulators in and of themselves are not illegal, and don't infringe upon any patents or copyrights. The problem is with the roms, which are almost universally illegal, unless you own an actual copy of the game, and you have the rom for backup purposes.
Personally, I find the illegality of roms to be ridiculous. By the time an emulator can properly simulate a console on an average consumer-model PC, most of the games associated with that console are nearly five years old, and are bought almost exclusively used; the publishers and developers are no longer receiving payment from the sale of these games. Silly IP laws drafted by out-of-touch congressmen aside, describing such a scenario as piracy seems absolutely foolish.
Furthermore, in classes such as this, where students are encouraged to investigate and play various games, many of which might be from previous generations, emulators and roms provide a convenient, space-saving, and low-cost solution. For those who didn't grow up with video games, it may also be the only way for them to experience the games associated with an older era, as few businesses today buy and sell outdated games and consoles anymore, with the exception of small-scale specialty stores and online marketplaces.
The only problem with my argument is the sudden reintroduction of previous generation games into the current generation, via proprietary emulators available through app stores on modern consoles. While this does validate game publishers' claims that emulation is piracy, it's a very cheap and selfish claim; they're making you pay for a game that has not undergone any updates, which has been floating around the market for years, and from which otherwise they would not see a dime. On the surface they're offering you a chance to play your old games on a new system, legally, but underneath they're eschewing innovation and hiding behind a wall of convoluted and obsolete laws all in the name of making a quick buck.
In the end, the use of emulators comes down to a philosophical decision: "support" the developers and publishers by purchasing a digital copy of a game they made years ago, or just download it for free off of seedy websites. Me? I prefer the latter. And if any publishers want to take me to court, I'll just promise to buy their next game, provided it's not a port or a remake.
The reason I'm bringing this up is because of an assignment in this class that requires we play a story-heavy game for 20+ hours. An additional assignment asks that we finish the game, though this isn't required, and some writing might be involved (I don't have my syllabus handy as I'm typing this). Regardless, I saw this as the perfect opportunity to try to beat FFVIII.
The only problem was, I didn't have the discs handy, nor did I feel like monopolizing the TV in my suite's common room. Of course, me being computer savvy, I already had the perfect solution: run isos of the discs in a PlayStation emulator on my computer.
For those who don't know what emulators are, they are applications that simulate a video game console (or old-school computer systems) on your personal computer. You play games by downloading a "rom", which is the game's data ripped from it's medium (cartridge or disc) stored a file on a computer, and then loading the rom into the emulator application. After that, it's like playing any other computer game, with a keyboard (or other input devices) acting as a surrogate for the original system's controllers.
The legality of emulators and roms are debated around the world. Many nations have recognized that emulators in and of themselves are not illegal, and don't infringe upon any patents or copyrights. The problem is with the roms, which are almost universally illegal, unless you own an actual copy of the game, and you have the rom for backup purposes.
Personally, I find the illegality of roms to be ridiculous. By the time an emulator can properly simulate a console on an average consumer-model PC, most of the games associated with that console are nearly five years old, and are bought almost exclusively used; the publishers and developers are no longer receiving payment from the sale of these games. Silly IP laws drafted by out-of-touch congressmen aside, describing such a scenario as piracy seems absolutely foolish.
Furthermore, in classes such as this, where students are encouraged to investigate and play various games, many of which might be from previous generations, emulators and roms provide a convenient, space-saving, and low-cost solution. For those who didn't grow up with video games, it may also be the only way for them to experience the games associated with an older era, as few businesses today buy and sell outdated games and consoles anymore, with the exception of small-scale specialty stores and online marketplaces.
The only problem with my argument is the sudden reintroduction of previous generation games into the current generation, via proprietary emulators available through app stores on modern consoles. While this does validate game publishers' claims that emulation is piracy, it's a very cheap and selfish claim; they're making you pay for a game that has not undergone any updates, which has been floating around the market for years, and from which otherwise they would not see a dime. On the surface they're offering you a chance to play your old games on a new system, legally, but underneath they're eschewing innovation and hiding behind a wall of convoluted and obsolete laws all in the name of making a quick buck.
In the end, the use of emulators comes down to a philosophical decision: "support" the developers and publishers by purchasing a digital copy of a game they made years ago, or just download it for free off of seedy websites. Me? I prefer the latter. And if any publishers want to take me to court, I'll just promise to buy their next game, provided it's not a port or a remake.
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
Trying To Desperately Not Be An Obnoxious Know-It-All
This is going to be something of a summary of the past few weeks, since I'm lagging behind. I really should adopt some sort of schedule. Also, I'm having an unusual amount of trouble with the grammar in that title...
Our first assignment this semester was to read Understanding Comics by Scott McCloud. While enlightening in some areas, by and large I found I was rarely reading what I hadn't already known. Several art classes throughout the span of my life had already taught me the importance and subconscious effects of lines, shapes, and colors, along with differences between realism and abstract art forms. Additionally, I was aware of the problems with color during the early years of print comics, knowledge garnered from documentaries and late-night outings on the Wikipedia.
I did gain a stronger appreciation for the interplay between art and writing, though I still tend to take the art for granted, unless it's mind-blowing like the works of Alex Ross. I also now catch myself paying more attention to the space between panels. Beforehand, by perception of time/space was more automatic (which isn't necessarily bad); now, I find myself analyzing the transitions, determining whether the artist could have done something different to enhance an emotion or effect.
The weeks following this bit of required reading were filled with presentations, by individuals and groups, either discussing Understanding Comics or relating another required reading (such as the graphic novel Blankets by Craig Thompson) to the content of Understanding Comics. As a man who thrives on variety, I found this disheartening display of uninspired regularity nothing short of mental torture. I still voted that the groups earn credit for their presentations of course; soulless fiend that I am, they did the work, so they deserved to get credit.
Last week, I finally got my chance to perform my "Trainer Quest" (the first project in our Class paths; see first post for clarification). Not wanting to present on the same stuff as all the other groups, I opted for something a bit more esoteric: webcomics. My partner for the presentation discussed the history of webcomics, while I provided a comparison of defining features that differentiated webcomics from traditional print comics.
Overall, it went rather well, and we managed to engage the class throughout the entire presentation. Being my own worst critic, I feel obligated to state that I know the presentation could have been better. We could have included more pictures, we could have rehearsed, we could have turned the entire presentation into a game, etc. My partner stumbled a bit despite having note cards, and I rambled because I didn't have anything prepared beyond my own jumbled thoughts and some Powerpoint slides to keep me on track.
In the end though, I feel I succeeded in achieving a personal goal. The subject matter of the presentation was unique, I didn't repeat info that I had been spoon-fed, or that I had been assigned to learn in the first place, and I kept things interesting, somehow managing to not bore myself nor my audience. These are things I strive for in most of my personal projects, and I rarely have a chance to exercise such freedom. So, in summary, as long as I continue to have the opportunity to do stuff like this, I think I'm going to have fun in this class.
Our first assignment this semester was to read Understanding Comics by Scott McCloud. While enlightening in some areas, by and large I found I was rarely reading what I hadn't already known. Several art classes throughout the span of my life had already taught me the importance and subconscious effects of lines, shapes, and colors, along with differences between realism and abstract art forms. Additionally, I was aware of the problems with color during the early years of print comics, knowledge garnered from documentaries and late-night outings on the Wikipedia.
I did gain a stronger appreciation for the interplay between art and writing, though I still tend to take the art for granted, unless it's mind-blowing like the works of Alex Ross. I also now catch myself paying more attention to the space between panels. Beforehand, by perception of time/space was more automatic (which isn't necessarily bad); now, I find myself analyzing the transitions, determining whether the artist could have done something different to enhance an emotion or effect.
The weeks following this bit of required reading were filled with presentations, by individuals and groups, either discussing Understanding Comics or relating another required reading (such as the graphic novel Blankets by Craig Thompson) to the content of Understanding Comics. As a man who thrives on variety, I found this disheartening display of uninspired regularity nothing short of mental torture. I still voted that the groups earn credit for their presentations of course; soulless fiend that I am, they did the work, so they deserved to get credit.
Last week, I finally got my chance to perform my "Trainer Quest" (the first project in our Class paths; see first post for clarification). Not wanting to present on the same stuff as all the other groups, I opted for something a bit more esoteric: webcomics. My partner for the presentation discussed the history of webcomics, while I provided a comparison of defining features that differentiated webcomics from traditional print comics.
Overall, it went rather well, and we managed to engage the class throughout the entire presentation. Being my own worst critic, I feel obligated to state that I know the presentation could have been better. We could have included more pictures, we could have rehearsed, we could have turned the entire presentation into a game, etc. My partner stumbled a bit despite having note cards, and I rambled because I didn't have anything prepared beyond my own jumbled thoughts and some Powerpoint slides to keep me on track.
In the end though, I feel I succeeded in achieving a personal goal. The subject matter of the presentation was unique, I didn't repeat info that I had been spoon-fed, or that I had been assigned to learn in the first place, and I kept things interesting, somehow managing to not bore myself nor my audience. These are things I strive for in most of my personal projects, and I rarely have a chance to exercise such freedom. So, in summary, as long as I continue to have the opportunity to do stuff like this, I think I'm going to have fun in this class.
Saturday, February 11, 2012
Better Late Than Never
I probably should have started this back in January, but oh well, I don't think it's too late. This blog here is for a class I'm taking right now, ENG-336: Theories and Approach. That's its technical name by the way, the name in the course catalog and scheduling system. The real name of the course, as per the title page of the syllabus, is Graphics and Gaming: The Language, Literacy, and Learning of Art and Play.
It is a course about comic books and video games. I am getting college credit for reading/playing/discussing/analyzing comic books and video games. Based on concept alone, this is probably one of the most awesome courses I've taken thus far (I had a course on video game programming/design last semester, along with a course on world religions, so it's really hard for me to pick a favorite).
One of the quests offered in the course is to create a blog and discuss my progress through the course, what's going on in the class, etc. And yes, I said "quest." There are no tests or quizzes, final grades are based on total experience points accumulated, and experience points are acquired via class participation, playing assigned video games/reading assigned comic books, progressing through class paths ("Guru", "Scholar", and "Sage") and by performing "side quests." I am being completely serious, by the way.
Aside from the grading system, the course is no different from any other really. There are lectures, there is required reading (some graphic novels, some actual books), and the various "quests" are just your average projects (give presentation, write paper, watch/discuss a film, etc.), with the exception that you get to choose what quests to do and when. Not so crazy when you lay it all out.
Now that this little intro is out of the way, from here on out, posts will be summaries of material covered in class, along with the occasional commentary about the class or some game I happen to be playing at the time. Depending on how well this goes, and how much free time I have afterward, I may keep updating this once the semester is over. I normally don't play enough games or read enough comics to maintain something like this, but we'll see how this pans out.
It is a course about comic books and video games. I am getting college credit for reading/playing/discussing/analyzing comic books and video games. Based on concept alone, this is probably one of the most awesome courses I've taken thus far (I had a course on video game programming/design last semester, along with a course on world religions, so it's really hard for me to pick a favorite).
One of the quests offered in the course is to create a blog and discuss my progress through the course, what's going on in the class, etc. And yes, I said "quest." There are no tests or quizzes, final grades are based on total experience points accumulated, and experience points are acquired via class participation, playing assigned video games/reading assigned comic books, progressing through class paths ("Guru", "Scholar", and "Sage") and by performing "side quests." I am being completely serious, by the way.
Aside from the grading system, the course is no different from any other really. There are lectures, there is required reading (some graphic novels, some actual books), and the various "quests" are just your average projects (give presentation, write paper, watch/discuss a film, etc.), with the exception that you get to choose what quests to do and when. Not so crazy when you lay it all out.
Now that this little intro is out of the way, from here on out, posts will be summaries of material covered in class, along with the occasional commentary about the class or some game I happen to be playing at the time. Depending on how well this goes, and how much free time I have afterward, I may keep updating this once the semester is over. I normally don't play enough games or read enough comics to maintain something like this, but we'll see how this pans out.
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