Burnwinter wrote:One of the points of the exercise was to develop a vocabulary that could explain (in a non-judgemental way) why certain people didn't enjoy certain systems, or playing with certain players. At the time a lot of people objected to the cheerfully psychopathic and mercenary typical RPG character - very similar to the murderous and acquisitive player-controlled behaviour in GTA or RDR - and wanted language to express those objections.
RPGs are in a lot of ways the epitome of the problem. When you choose a character you're not going by personality or emotional connection, you're going by stats and tangible advantages brought on by race and gender (I find the latter incredibly damaging to the whole discussion about ethnicity and diversity in (video) games). It's always been a ridiculous approach to the whole concept of role-playing but we're stuck with it all the same. We've just transferred it from paper to a digital context.
You're right about the language. We need a clear terminology in order to think clear but we have none, which is why a harmful book like Koster's A Theory of Fun is a standard textbook in every game design class in the world. Koster is one of those guys who developed the first Ultima online games and then went into academia. They're not really artists or storytellers but programmers and engineers who grew up exploring a certain interest for 'other things', i.e. Dungeons & Dragons and fantasy literature like you pointed out. Koster argues that great game design is a form of edutainment; it teaches the player a valuable lesson in a risk-free environment. It might very well be a decent definition of a game if you're referring to simple physical activities stretching back through the ages, but it fails to make a broader statement about why people read books, watch movies or enjoy art and music. And it says nothing about why they find themselves immersed in virtual worlds.
