Games people play Part 2: Let’s pretend

Posted by: Jon Hurford, Senior Advisor, Learning and Teaching, College of Design and Social Context, RMIT University.

Metrics

Fitbit Screengrab

Author is comfortably mid-table at 10000 steps a day. Less than Andrea W, more than The Phantom.

Last week was quite a fun post to write and I’m back with the semi-promised ‘Part 2’…

We do often get between 100 and 300 daily hits on a published post at the tomtom. But my post, the 100th post fell a little bit short. But since then there’s been quite a bit of activity and as a number of people pointed out in the comments, my threat to send it to blog-post-Heaven made it seem:

  • like a waste of my effort/their invested time
  • like an arbitrary requirement
  • unfair to demand a group of people to reach an aggregated target
  • churlish for me to take my ball and go home
  • that perhaps at 1400 words I just didn’t know how to end the post?

All true!

What a savvy readership!

And all so relevant to games- Are the rules clear? Are the rules fair? Who thought up these rules? Who’s the umpire? How do I win? How do I quit?

On to what I’d promised, first, extrinsic motivations and measurements.

There’s already a game in place in TAFE and HE that our students play. The game called, for instance, ‘Bachelor of X’ runs for three years, it’s assessed by former players and it will cost you upwards of $30 000 AUD. Insert as many asterisks as you’d like, but essentially you quit by dropping out, you win by graduating, you can cheat in a number of ways and at the end you’re awarded a badge called a degree.

A cynical sketch of the tertiary experience, yes. Shoulder angels should rightly counter with the intangibles and the intrinsic benefits that come with a tertiary experience. University is where students can grapple with ideas, create new knowledge, speak truth to power etcetera.

Click here to visit GEElab. Opens in a new window.

‘Trouble Tower’ app from RMIT’s GEElab.

It would be depressing (or worse) if we held the first view front of mind and didn’t encourage the myriad benefits related to what learning institutions offer. But you’ll find plenty of posts on the tomtom where you can read about graduate attributes, lifelong learning and that sort of thing!

Caveats

My point though is that adding another layer of achievements as instructors is problematic for a system that already has clear thresholds, ladders and badges. Completion of credit points, Competent/Not Yet Competent, Pass to High Distinction: these are the real points of the game. Universities bear the legacy of ranks and hierarchies in their inherited Latin and medieval terms. Just as more recently we have had the AQF imposing a kind of metric system of levels 1-10 on these old terms from guilds, knights and churches.

So an easier conclusion to this post would be for me to write about what could go wrong with adding a game element to your course. That it’s ‘pointsification‘, that it’s infantile, that there’ll be unintended consequences. That it makes university into (even moreso) a token economy. That carrots and sticks are for donkeys. Adding gameful design to your course won’t make up for opaque course outcomes or dated course materials.

But I did promise to explain why an individual instructor might still be interested in adding some sort of a game mechanic to their course.

Click to read the article at news.Discovery.com

A 5000 year old Bronze-Age game: “According to distribution, shape and numbers of the stone pieces, it appears that the game is based on the number 4.” Haluk Sağlamtimur, Ege University İzmir, Turkey. Click above to read the full article.

Case 1: You enjoy games (boardgames, word games or computer games) and recognise that games can add an element of fun to tasks. You want to allow students to learn, track their learning or to present the results of their learning in a modality that’s closer to one in which they’re spending some of their leisure time.

Case 2: You recognise that there’s an element of your course that’s an ‘eat-your-vegetables’ proposition: it needs to be done and many of your students find it difficult. As a result, it’s often skipped over by students or it becomes a point where their performance dips or where they disengage. It might be something like acquiring the appropriate vocabulary for a unit, or acquiring a set of technological skills that are required that can be applied later in the unit. You think that maybe some healthy competition or a bit of incentivising could do the trick.

To address the latter case, it’s worthwhile noting that psychologists talk about the overjustification effect, where extrinsic rewards reduce intrinsic motivation. As one of the examples in Alfie Kohn’s very quotable ‘Punished by Rewards’ goes:

Asked about the likely results of Pizza Hut’s popular food-for-reading program, educational psychologist John Nicholls replied, only half in jest, that it would probably produce “a lot of fat kids who don’t like to read.” (Kohn, 1999)

Kohn’s book has a bigger target of praise and gold stars in schools and performance bonuses in the workplace but his arguments that this type of vegetables-for-dessert bargaining is essentially coercive (and stacked in favour of society’s dominant power structure) and that the results are either counter-productive or short-lived (they end when the reward ends) are certainly worth keeping in mind. You’d better be careful about incentivising an aspect of the course that part of your cohort actually enjoys already for instance.

In response to the first case, I think it’s important to recognise the range of games and the types of players you’re likely to be teaching. It will be impossible to design a semester-long game that engages all of the players, all of the time. Even a leader in the field, Kevin Werbach (whose videos and articles will point you in the right direction) shies away from using an actual game mechanic in his MOOC: Gamification (run through The University of Pennsylvania on Coursera).

Conclusions

So why, as a teacher or lecturer, would you be looking to introduce game-mechanics to your classroom? The short answer is that I think it gives you another way to experiment with your teaching in a way that brings students along for the journey.

If you begin by asking ‘What is the problem that I’m trying to solve in my class?’ you might end up with a dilemma like:

*Survey results indicate that students don’t feel I’m giving enough feedback to them.
OR
*I’m not getting the quality of answers/creative output that I’d expect from this level of students.

What I think game design opens up here is the possibility for you not to simply answer ‘I’ll work harder.’ Making a game of it means you will work with students and you will help them to work with each other to solve problems.  For you, this problem of practice may or may not be openly shared with them- you’ll find a way to link it appropriately to their real success in their course or program.

I think that’s one of the powerful things about games. The ‘let’s pretend’ aspect of them imagines a world where things are simpler and clearer. Where things work. Where there are bright lines, winners and losers but also camaraderie among the players (and the umpires). It’s where achieving 10000 steps with a pedometer or staying ahead of an opponent in a ladder can be the askew goal that keeps you on track for the ‘real’ goal.

I’ll post my ‘feedback game’ ideas in the comments but to bring it back to Skinner (the Principal from The Simpsons, not the behaviorist) his error was not in the silliness of the game (all games are silly) but in assigning a game that he didn’t play himself, that he didn’t play alongside his student. And that’s the great opportunity of games in higher education — more time playing alongside instead of umpiring. Let’s continue this particular game in the comments section…

Share your thoughts about games, gameful design and gamification in the comments!

Games people play

Posted by: Jon Hurford, Senior Advisor, Learning and Teaching, College of Design and Social Context, RMIT University.

This post has been split into two parts:

Part 1: In which I outline some of my own feelings about games in the classroom.
Part 2: Which may be published tomorrow and will cover the why and how of introducing a game mechanic to your class or course…

Screenshot at 99 posts

Screenshot on the eve of 100 posts.

Games to kill time

First, this scene from an episode of The Simpsons:

[Bart has forgotten his permission slip for the class excursion to the chocolate factory and has to stay at school.]

Principal Skinner: Here’s a whole box of unsealed envelopes for the PTA.
Bart: You’re making me lick envelopes?
Skinner: Oh, licking envelopes can be fun! All you have to do is make a game of it.
Bart: What kind of game?
Skinner: Well, for example, you could see how many you could lick in an hour, then try to break that record.
Bart: Sounds like a pretty crappy game to me.
Skinner: Yes, well… Get started.  -‘Bart the Murderer’ (Writer: John Swartzwelder, 1991)

Games bloggers play

For a while I’ve wanted to set down some thoughts about games and their place in the classroom. If you blog with WordPress you’ll know that you get a little badge and some words of encouragement each time you publish a post.

It’s not necessarily an earned reward either. The person who pushes the button usually isn’t the same one who wrote the post and nevermind that I only joined the team a year or so ago — in this case I’m the author and the lucky duck that gets to see 100 posts tick over. Similarly with ‘followers’ and site statistics, these two metrics of the online world are easily gained, easily gamed, but addictive regardless. At last count the tomtom has a few hundred followers spread across WordPress, Twitter and Facebook.

Fitting then that I flag the importance of fairness and that with the 100th post from the tomtom team, I weigh in on games and ‘gamification’, a topic that we haven’t really dealt with explicitly.

Paper-based games

A few years before that episode of The Simpsons, I was in 6th grade. At some point in that year, one afternoon, my teacher brought out a blue ice-cream container with cut-up pieces of paper and announced that we were going to play ‘The Fractions Game’. I got along well with my teacher and I sat at a group table near the front of the class.

But this game sounded boring and it sounded like something I wouldn’t be very good at. Plus I probably felt like this was my time to score a point in the more important social game called ‘6th grade’.

I didn’t do anything elaborate: I just groaned dramatically and said ‘Not this game.’ (I’d never actually played ‘The Fractions Game’, but the title was a giveaway: these were vegetables masquerading as dessert.)

In my memory this next bit is in slow-motion. Mrs P. shouted something like ‘Right!’ and tossed the bucket of cut-up paper into the air. The pieces rained down on our group’s table and on her head and shoulders. A bit like confetti or ticker tape. But more like something very bad had just happened.

I’d never had this effect on a teacher. So unexpected and such a literal explosion. My group and I started gathering up the paper — but the ‘Right!’ was just the start of the sentence sending me to the principal’s office. And to make clear that this story is not about rewriting my history to represent me as anything like a cool and calm kid, I was definitely in tears at this point.

I was sent home that day with a note (more tears!) asking my mum to come in the next morning. I remember apologising, I remember Mrs P. explaining that she’d spent a lot of time on preparing that game.

I was an enthusiastic participant in any game Mrs P. suggested for the remainder of the year.

Computer games

The games we really enjoyed were on the Apple IIgs at the back of the classroom: Gold Dust Island and Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego. We got to play in pairs or trios I think. Gold Dust Island — especially good — had you marooned and managing water, food, treasure-hunting and shipbuilding. Looking back on the two games they’re both pretty meagre fare educationally. Carmen Sandiego was a bunch of trivia about the flags and currencies of countries and I remember that digging for gold in Gold Dust Island usually prevented us from spending the necessary time on woodcutting and shipbuilding. Still there were early lessons in opportunity costs and logic in both.

Time on the computers was probably based on some sort of behaviourist carrot and dependent on our ability to coöperate sotto voce and get off that island/find Ms Sandiego while the rest of the class were reading or doing maths problems.

I could go on about the computers and other games we played. We had the usual typing tutors and ‘drill & kill’ games. Students of my generation can usually count at least a few skills gained solely through games. Off the top of my head, for me, it would be typing speed and a smidgin of music theory. At home (or at a friend’s house) we played the increasingly sophisticated simulation games of the ’80s like SimCity. For many of my friends, games were their pathway into programming, through a language like Logo.  Many can trace a path from these experiences through to their current professions.

But If Mrs P. is reading this, she should take heart that it was her teaching strategies, her passion and the class conversations that I remember most about 6th grade and not a computer screen. ‘The Fractions Game’ was an off-day. I have vivid memories of her reading to us (Thurley Fowler’s The Green Wind (probably more tears)) and that she was a ruthless critic of my juvenile writing for instance. See how far I’ve come!

She should know too, that as an English and History teacher years later, I would stay up late making revision crosswords or flashcards that stumped my students and made me question what progress we’d made. That I ran in-class games that were unappreciated by most, or that simply crashed and burned. That I set the creation of games as assessments with very mixed results and that we played these games-of-variable-quality (set maybe in Ancient Egypt or Rome) in the final days of a term and that yes, they usually left the participants cold.

So games are attractive. As educators, it’s natural that we should see them as containers that we can sneak knowledge into, perhaps a foreign language or some critical thinking skills. Which is a roundabout way of bringing this post to ‘gamification’ and its place in TAFE and Higher Education.

But first more disclosure

I’ve recently participated in the ‘Global Corporate Challenge’. I wear a fitness monitor to track steps every day. I work on a project that is trialling badges and quests to lift the engagement of users in a professional learning approach.

All three of these activities are trying to use a game mechanic (ie points, leaderboards, quests) to increase the level of engagement/’stickiness’/personal commitment or fun. There are many more examples of gamification being used by institutions, corporations and by governments to alter behaviour.

So gamification often tries to take something most of the population experiences as tiresome or time-consuming or not intrinsically satisfying (exercise, professional development, sorting your recycling or paying your tax) and attaches an extrinsic reward to it.

And now, a game!

If this, the 100th post of the teaching tomtom gets more than 100 hits today, Thursday 3 October, I will publish Part 2 on Friday. If not, I’m following Mrs P.’s lead and throwing it to the winds! Lost to the ages!

In Part 2 I will discuss some caveats of extrinsic rewards; why and how one still might like to introduce game mechanics to a HE or TAFE course and I’ll share another anecdote about me as a learner. This time, a lecturer at university takes me to task for doing the crossword before his lecture begins.

Stay tuned/click refresh/leave a comment.

Share your thoughts about Part 1 in the comments…