Elise Verzosa Hurley’s and Amy C. Kimme Hea’s “The Rhetoric of Reach: Preparing Students for Technical Communication in the Age of Social Media” offers insights into the cultural narratives that surround social media use while presenting an argument for the responsibility of technical communication instructors to engage with social media in the classroom. The article begins with some well-known cases where mistakes made through social media ruined people’s careers and public standing. Due to Americans’ social media use, the topic is timely, and instructors might consider being more aware of social media’s impact in daily life and in the classroom.

Part of Hurley’s and Kimme Hea’s argument is that instructors must work with students to engage with social media critically, which requires pushing back against the dominant narrative of social media as being ‘good’ or ‘bad’ and combating stereotypes about social media use. Such an approach involves the use of social media in the classroom. The authors rely on the work of Selber, Johnson-Eilola, and Turnley for this part of their argument. I agree with Hurley and Kimme Hea that technology and platforms should be engaged in the classroom as I don’t think an approach can truly be critical if technology and platforms are merely talked about. What I find interesting about this argument is that it has implications for other texts for study such as video games. Similar statistics can be presented that show the prevalence of video game use in America, and yet there is still some pushback for including video games in the college classroom. And many seem hesitant to even acknowledge video games as texts. However, just like social media (all media really), video games reflect the cultures that produce them and are not merely technical instruments. As Hurley and Kimme Hea point out early on in the article, it is important for students to critically understand their media use in order to recognize their roles as rhetorical agents (58). I believe this extends to all media.

Ultimately, through their courses and study, Hurley and Kimme Hea found that technical writing students “came to understand that social media use might actually forward professional careers rather than derail them” (65). Students thought critically about social media use, realized its potential, and challenged notions of ‘good’ and ‘bad’ social media use. An important part of taking such a critical stance is recognizing the social and cultural connections media has as communication. Social media is connected to greater social practices, which is, in part, why relying solely on ‘cautionary tales’ is a disservice to students.

I think this article is significant not only for what it tells educators about students and social media use but for its commentary on the academy and approaches to technology (though this is not the authors’ main point). When dealing with technology and media, it’s important for educators to assess what students and society have to say, but it’s also important for educators to reflect on their assumptions and the narratives perpetuated by academics. While this article was published in 2014, discussions about the place of media in classrooms are ongoing. I don’t know the full context for this piece, but it seems like a significant contribution to this discussion in that it shows the relevance of media in peoples’ lives and how that media can be viewed critically.

Source:
Hurley, Elise Verzosa & Amy C. Kimme Hea. “The Rhetoric of Reach: Preparing Students for Technical Communication in the Age of Social Media.” Technical Communication Quarterly, vol. 23, 2014, pp. 55–68.

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When I was a teenager, I played a ton of Rollercoaster Tycoon. I was a theme park manager in charge of a slew of parks. It was my responsibility to keep the books in the green lest the stakeholders got antsy. This required planning for the future, considering the park’s design, and managing the experiences of my guests. There were a few times when my performance was in question (park visitors can be fickle), but all-in-all I was the best theme park manager the company had seen in a long time.

Wait…What did you say? What am I talking about?! You don’t play video games like that. Well, that makes me kinda sad. But I know I can’t be alone, right?

To this day, when playing video games (especially sims), I go all in with narrative. Whether its Planet Zoo or Powerwash Sim, I’ll have a narrative whipped up in my head. When playing Planet Zoo, I was a major contributor to conservation efforts. Working in Lawnmowing Sim meant more than simply mowing lawns–it meant saving the family business. I could leave a game for months at a time and then come back and pick up that same narrative again.

This practice of situating myself into the games I play is the same imaginative wonderings that followed my reading as a kid. I absorbed everything from Animal Ark and Encyclopedia Brown to Choose Your Own Adventure and Nancy Drew. I was also fascinated by my dad’s astronomy books, but that’s a topic for a sci-fi-related post someday. Reading was enthusiastically encouraged in my house. Between regular visits to the community library to the modeling of my parents’ own reading habits, I took to reading eagerly. Books offered possibility. Through their pages I could imagine myself living various lives and going on so many adventures. Those fictional adventures led to my own stories and my eventual love for video game narratives.

According to an article in Scientific America, “We use our imagination in many ways. Novelists rely on it to dream up plots, characters and scenes. Artists use it to conjure new works. Children entertain themselves by weaving fantastical worlds in their minds” (“Why We Imagine“). In what ways do gamers use their imaginations? Arguably, most video games prompt and require that players imagine. Imagine worlds they can ‘live’ in. Characters they can interact with. Problems to solve. Levels to navigate. When I think of a game like Elden Ring, this becomes more clear. On many occasions I ran into enemies that initially wiped the floor with my body. But I would come back, try again, and improvise. Creativity saved the day on a number of occasions. Similarly, when playing Far Cry 6, I would vary my approach when infiltrating outposts. Sometimes I would go in guns blazing. Other times I would use stealth or a kind of mixed approach blending explosions and loose animals. Video games stimulate the imagination in many ways, including by their design and the choices they present. In fact, the imagining and creativity prompted by video games may carry over into other areas of our lives. A study from Michigan State University found that “the more kids played video games, the more creative they were in tasks such as drawing pictures and writing stories” (“Video game playing tied to creativity“).

When I imagined myself as an Emeril miner in No Mans Sky or as the director of a reality tv show in The Sims 4, I was practicing creativity and pushing against and into the design of those games. That’s not to say that the games I’ve mentioned in this post don’t have narratives. Some of them very much do in the form of campaigns, scenarios, and other narrative-infused elements. I believe there is as much value in video games without definite narratives as those with plotted out stories.

Video games have provided me with many opportunities to play, explore, and create. They’ve often served as a kind of studio or playground for my imagination. There’s a comfort in that. But that’s my experience. What about you? Do you find yourself creating narratives as you play?

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When I started using video games in my classes in 2015, I went all out. A peer and I designed a course completely designed around video games. Not only were our students asked to play video games and consider gaming culture, but they took part in a course designed as a game. The course structure mirrored that of an open-world RPG. Students started in a “tutorial” where they gained essential knowledge to navigate the course. Once free from the tutorial, they chose their path via quest lines. The quest lines were fashioned around experiences and skillsets. For example, if a student was adept at creating multimedia content, or wanted to learn more about creating such content, they could decide to follow the Visual Forest quest line. This quest line featured assignments such as a graphics assessment, a poster project, and a game design project. Or, if a student wanted to experience a little bit of everything they could mix and match assignments, tailoring the course to their preferences. 

Teaching the class this way was rewarding for both the students and myself. My peer has adopted this approach (with some adjustments) in all of his lower-level composition classes since. I, on the other hand, have not. It’s not that I think the class isn’t viable or that there is something deeply wrong with the structure. For me, it’s been a matter of time. In general that class was a success for me. But it was a whole lot of work. You may be thinking “but isn’t teaching work?” Oh, yes. Teaching is a heck of a lot of work. But this class took that work to another level. It meant keeping track and guiding students taking entirely different approaches and paths through the course. It meant grading assignments without firm deadlines (so the work came in at random and sometimes in a flood). It meant more work than usual. When I moved on after finishing my MA, I worked as an adjunct. As an adjunct I did not feel I had the freedom, time, or support to experiment again in that way. And so, I left the course in the past. It’s something I think about fondly and with excitement because I’d like to run that course again. Or, at least, some iteration of that course.

In the semesters immediately after that course, I taught pretty typical writing classes. Standard essays taught in a standard 16 week writing course. There was nothing particularly unique about those classes, but they were functional and prepared students for the courses that followed. 

It was around 2019 that I rebooted my second-semester writing classes with technology and media in mind. I wanted to give my students more opportunities to explore and experiment with digital rhetoric (this includes things like online writing and writing through media). I gathered various readings and created activities and assignments to guide that exploration. This put me in a great position to design a themed class for the Fall 2021 semester. I accepted a tenure-track position that summer and was given multiple writing courses including one that had to follow a theme. And the theme was up to me! Perfect. After racking my brain for a bit, I decided to stick with what I’ve grown to know well—technology and media. I took what I already developed and expanded it into an entire course.

During that Fall 2021 semester I taught one section of that themed course and during the following semester I taught three sections. With a full year of that course under my belt, I can confidently relay what worked.

Based on conversations with students and in-class feedback, most students connected with the theme of technology and communication. Now, “technology and communication” could cover a great many things, so I’m going to take a moment to explain my approach.

During the first few weeks of the semester, we had conversations about technology—what it is, the roles technology plays in day-to-day life, the potential of technology, risks associated with technology, etc. This got us on the same page, or pages, moving forward. We also talked about how students did not need to love or even like technology in order to do well in the course. In fact, we had many conversations about the negative aspects of technology during the semester. The first writing assignment fell within this introductory period. Students were asked to write a narrative essay that reflected on their use of technology. They had flexibility with this essay. For example, one student wrote about a lack of technology in his life and the jealousy he felt seeing his peers with new phones and the like. Another student wrote about how integral technology was to her familial relationships. 

After those first few weeks, we shifted over to a more formal analysis of technology. Students were tasked with selecting an online platform (any platform) and interrogating how that platform functioned, its purpose, and who it primarily served. This assignment was written up as a report (we practiced different genres of writing in the course) and was based on direct observations of the platforms. Students were encouraged to engage with platform documentation and to interview platform users. Students chose everything from TikTok to Doordash, and seemed to enjoy working with platforms familiar to them. However, not everyone chose familiar platforms. Some people took the assignment as an opportunity to analyze a platform new to them or one they had been curious about.

These two assignments took us to roughly the mid-way point of the semester. In research-based writing courses like this one, I’ve found success asking students to tackle one big research project that takes about half a semester to complete. Such a project is broken down into steps and stages to make it more manageable and students earn points on those steps throughout the process. With this themed course, students had the flexibility to select whatever topic they wanted even if it didn’t fit the framing of “technology and communication.” In addition to this, student projects could take one of the following forms: traditional academic essay, podcast, website, or documentary, so even if a student wrote on a topic outside the theme, (let’s say a student chose the topic of desertification) they still had the opportunity to practice digital rhetoric. These options were enough to help students feel they were making meaningful choices without overwhelming them with options. This assignment was generally successful, especially in the spring semester. Several of the podcast research projects were among the best student work I’ve seen in a class.

After a year of running this themed course, I feel confident in its design and will only be making minor changes for the upcoming semester. The flaw of a class like this is that the theme will not resonate with everyone. And I did have several students who felt ambivalent toward it. This is not surprising. There will never be a class with 100% buyin 100% of the time. However, my plan is to vary the course theme every two years. My thought is this–running a course for a year gives me time to respond to student needs and reactions and to make any major changes. The second year is the finesse period. After that, I’ll switch to a new theme and repeat the process. It might even be interesting to have three or so themes fully developed and tested so that someday I can walk into class at the start of the semester and poll students to see which theme they would like to choose.

If you’ve read this far, you’ll have noticed that video games weren’t mentioned at all in my current course design. Video games have become less of a primary focus for me in class and now play a part in examples and in-class activities (for example, I ask my students to create a profile of a gamer as part of an exercise in examining stereotypes). It won’t always be that way though. The school I’m teaching at now has a strong e-sports program. I can envision teaching writing courses with video games for that audience of students. I also intend to revisit that video game course with the open-world design. I still see a lot of value in working with video games. The good news is I’m at a school where I feel supported. And floating the idea of a video game-themed course may be something I do sooner rather than later.

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Because of my concerns about access, I typically take advantage of free-to-play and inexpensive indie titles when using video games in the first-year composition classroom. My institution provides a computer lab for each composition section; however, the technology in these labs are usually pretty dated, and even if the computers could run a game as demanding as Fallout 4, the process of installing software on these machines is complicated.

While I enjoy using indie titles and the games available from the Internet Archive with my students, I don’t allow the cost of AAA titles to deter their inclusion in the classroom. After all, most of my students are more familiar with the latest Call of Duty and Forza than they are with Darkest Dungeon and Emily is Away Two.

But if cost is a major issue, in what ways can we include AAA video games in the classroom? As a teacher of rhetoric and composition, my mind immediately goes to the discourse surrounding games–an aspect of play that serves a significant role in how I teach with games. As an example of this, I’d like to share a presentation I gave this past spring with my friend over at A New Game Plus. My friend and I attended a small conference in Illinois where we presented “Punching Virtual Nazis: Video Game Social Commentary in the Classroom.” Our topic grew from the conversations resulting from Far Cry 5‘s initial promotional image, the controversial marketing campaign for Wolfenstein II: The New Colossus, and general questions in gaming circles such as “Should games address politics?”

We began our presentation by talking about social commentary in games and the impact of indies and AAAs, from Ms. Pac-Man to Papers, Please. We then explored the discourse surrounding Far Cry 5 and Wolfenstein II. Just as we briefly discussed the history of both franchises during our presentation, I would do the same with my students. We would discuss cover art, marketing material, public response, and the games themselves to begin tackling the commentary that games like Far Cry contain. I believe this is a great starting point for the analysis of video games as it brings together a number of elements and showcases games in their public context, encouraging a wider lens through which to view games.

After going through some of the history of these franchises, we then talked in-depth about the marketing campaigns behind each game and the public response found in online spaces including YouTube, Twitter, and the comment sections of various gaming media sources. The following visuals serve as examples of the conversations stemming from Far Cry 5 both before and after its release.

Search results and comment sections like these are perfect spaces to begin analysis of the impact of games with our students. Of course Far Cry 5 and Wolfenstein II are obvious examples since their marketing campaigns were so controversial. But it may be beneficial to begin with the blatant before moving to games with more subtle commentary and messages.

When looking at the complexities of games through rhetoric, social commentary, and politics, the possibilities for instruction begin to multiply. What’s great about a social commentary approach to video games is the number of ‘texts’ available for free. My friend and I had no issue finding sources for our presentation and sample assignments–commentary on AAA games is abundant. Another advantage of looking at marketing material and online discussions is that it can engage students with the kinds of textual analysis more traditionally found in the rhet/comp classroom, thus providing a lower point of entry for educators beginning to use video games in the classroom. After all, examining online response to a video game is probably far less intimidating than playing Far Cry 5 with your students.

Helping fellow educators was one of our reasons behind presenting on this topic to begin with. We wanted to demonstrate that while playing video games will obviously enrich student experience, it is not always necessary. As a graduate student and TA, I am as restricted as anyone when it comes to getting technology and resources for my students. However, these restrictions don’t have to limit my approach in the classroom. They just force me to be inventive.

In closing, I’d like to enforce the idea that video games have a place in the college classroom, perhaps particularly in composition as games are rhetorical in nature and much of the material and conversations surrounding games are rich for analysis and learning. I’ve provided a link to one of the sample assignments (Visual Analysis) we showed during our presentation. Please note that the prompt is still a draft, but I thought it might demonstrate the kind of assignment that could come from engaging with social commentary and games.

If you have any thoughts, please let me know in the comments below! I’m always eager to discuss how and why I use video games in my teaching and am open to ideas and suggestions.

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Now that I have some certainty of what I will be teaching this fall, I’m trying to sort through how I might shape those courses. What follows is my attempt to organize some thoughts through writing. Admittedly, this is mostly for myself, and isn’t the most entertaining bit I’ve written, but I thought I would share what I’m thinking for anyone who might be interested in my process when it comes to course creation and the inclusion of video games. So yeah, it is what it is.

The Basics:

• I will be teaching two sections of English 103 which are entry level composition and rhetoric courses. English 103 focuses on the process of writing, audience, critical reading of various texts, self-discovery and engagement with communities, and electronic writing.
• English courses generally have anywhere from 21-27 students enrolled.

Options:
In terms of the university where I’ll be teaching, they are fairly flexible and open to new ideas and methods in the classroom as long as course outcomes are met. This is the same university that let me run a second semester composition course as a video game, so we both know what we’re getting into.

One of my primary motivations for including video games in these courses is that many students already know them; they possess knowledge of video games and their cultures which translates into a form of digital literacy. Video games can also help students be a bit more comfortable with the class and with writing. And because I am familiar with video games, the common interest acts as a bridge between me and some of my students. I could go on at length about why video games matter in education, but I have a whole “Press Start” category for that.

But this is where I have some decisions to make. While I would love to continue experimenting with digital rhetoric and gamification, I have a hunch that running a first-semester composition course as a game would not be as successful as a second semester course for a few reasons, and, because this will be my first semester back to grad school, I want to allow myself a period of time to ease back into everything.

So I’ve scrapped the idea of an entire course as game and am considering a unit that is either focused on video games (it will have students writing about some video game aspect) or using video games as an example for how a single assignment could play out.

Regardless of my integration of video games or not, the courses, as is typical, will focus on five major writing assignments. The assignments will probably be as follows:

• This I Believe Essay (narrative writing)
• Visual Analysis (focuses on visual & rhetorical features)
• Rhetorical Analysis (focuses on written, rhetorical features)
• Summary Packet (summative and evaluative writing & documentation skills)
• Inquiry Project (mini research assignment using skills from previous papers)

The obvious choice would be to pair video games with the visual analysis assignment. In the past, I taught the assignment focusing on advertisements that presented stereotypes, and some of my students did use video games for their papers. So this can easily work. And, again, I wouldn’t require students to write about video games (obviously they could if they had the desire), but video game advertising could be used as an example to work through the unit.

The other option would be to use examples of how people talk about video games for the rhetorical analysis. Students could analyze articles from gaming news sites and compare them to forums or other communities where people talk about games. Students would analyze the ways in which arguments are shaped, claims are made, and even how games are described between communities.

Both options will need a lot of work on my part, and I’ll need to think through them some more. I welcome any thoughts regarding either option or any other ideas you may have.

I will have a more “video game focused” post for Thursday and an update for the coming months soon. Thank you for reading.

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Emily is Away Too (2017) is a celebratory return to the early 2000s and a walk through that tumultuous period when teenagers are expected to transition into adulthood. This indie project, developed by Kyle Seeley, is best described as a visual novel that occurs in the context of an instant messenger, EOL. Oh yeah, and there’s Facenook and YouToob too.

Full disclosure, I have not played its predecessor, so I can’t make any comparisons between the two. Although, Emily is Away (2015) is free on Steam, so I’ll probably look into it eventually.

The game begins by asking players to select a chat icon, a username, and a few lines for their online profile before introducing two girls, Evelyn and Emily. This is where the story begins. I’ll avoid any spoilers, but in general, the narrative explores the high school experience, relationships, and the uncertainty and fear of the future.

What helps to make the interaction with emerz35 and punk4eva interesting is that players are always presented with three dialogue options which shape the outcome of the narrative. On occasion a message like “emerz35 will remember that” flashes on the screen reminding players that their choices matter. The game has five chapters, and at certain points, the player has to juggle conversing with both girls at the same time while being mindful of timely responses for both.

It becomes clear from the beginning that Emily and Evelyn are meant to be foils for each other, but this element could have been developed further. Initially, the two seem different enough: one likes to drink and the other isn’t a fan, their taste in music differs, they have opposite plans for the future, etc. This quickly falls flat as the two have similar relationship issues and even succumb to similar behaviors. The distinctions between the two become muddy even as the player has the opportunity to grow close to both. This lack of character development becomes especially noticeable when Emily and Evelyn ask the player very similar, if not the same, questions over the course of a few chapters.

While my care for the two girls could have been stronger, it was entertaining to return to the 2000s by way of the music that the girls shared on YouToob and the ensuing conversations. There were even spoofs of videos that went viral at the time. It was an interesting throwback, and I did not regret the two-ish hours spent with the game.

For $4.99, if interactive visual novels are your thing, I recommend Emily is Away Too. In spite of the somewhat underdeveloped characters, the concept is an interesting one. If you grew up using AOL and listening to Blink 182 or Snow Patrol you’ll probably find Emily is Away Too to be nostalgia inducing. And if you didn’t, you can still get something out of this neat project.

Teachable?: Emily is Away Too is precisely the kind of narrative-based game that could be used in the rhetoric/composition or literature classroom. Some of the content is for mature players and seems appropriate for high school and college students. The ability to compare ending stats, as seen in the picture above, could spark discussions about the role of game options and player choice and allows for a comparison of outcomes. I only played through the game once, but I hear there are four endings. The game could even serve as a sort of archive/cultural piece of the early 2000s for analysis. Emily is Away Too could easily be played outside of the classroom without much guidance or in a computer lab as the mechanics are straightforward, and the use of chapters makes assigning sections of the game easy. It isn’t difficult to give it a “Teachable” rating.  +Affordable  +Low Tech Requirements +Playable in 2-3 Hours  +Analysis  +Ease of Play

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…human intelligence and creativity, today more than ever, are tied to connecting—synchronizing—people, tools, texts, digital and social media, virtual spaces, and real spaces in the right ways, in ways that make us Minds and not just minds, but also better people in a better world.

― James Paul Gee, The Anti-Education Era: Creating Smarter Students through Digital Learning

For this post, I’m going to meander my way through some of James Paul Gee’s ideas on video games and education. I met Gee this past week, and I’m excited to share some thoughts on why I think Gee’s work is important.

The above quote is one of my favorites from Gee. Gee has published some important texts on topics ranging from discourse analysis to video games and the state of education. He’s a founding figure of video games and education/literacy and has brought respect to that area of education.

I had the opportunity to return to my alma mater, Northern Illinois University, Thursday to hear Gee speak about video games, the state of education, the social and political struggles of the world, and, most importantly, how imperative it is that people know they have worth—that they are needed and that they matter.

One reason that I respect Gee as an academic is the accessibility of his work. He can talk complex ideas with the best of them, but his discussions rarely leave the realm of the applicable and grounded. His approach is not convoluted or arrogant, and he uses common examples and language to communicate. This is appealing to me because I hold the belief that if education isn’t accessible, it’s lost its way.

And of course my admiration for Gee isn’t hurt by his views of video games and their value. If you haven’t read one of my first “Press Start” posts, you might not know that some of Gee’s ideas regarding video games and literacy were an integral part of a first-year composition course involving video games I taught at NIU, which is when I first became aware of Gee.

But let’s get to a few more of Gee’s ideas:

Learning is a deep human need, like mating and eating, and like all such needs it is meant to be deeply pleasurable to human beings.
― James Paul Gee, Why Video Games Are Good for Your Soul: Pleasure and Learning

Here, Gee is referring to the natural element of learning. It isn’t artificial to want to learn and, like many activities natural to humans, learning can be pleasurable and desirable. Thinking of learning as a need instead of state requirements waiting to be fulfilled requires a shift in perspective, but I think what Gee is getting at is that education doesn’t have to be mundane and rote.

For me, that’s where video games and other forms of media come in. Sure, I could teach rhetoric through literature or even newspapers, but why not engage students in media they already enjoy? Learning can be engaging, enjoyable, and even fun. Imagine that.

Our world is now so complex, our technology and science so powerful, and our problems so global and interconnected that we have come to the limits of individual human intelligence and individual expertise.
― James Paul Gee, The Anti-Education Era: Creating Smarter Students through Digital Learning

Gee talks a lot about communication, social connections, and community. One of the really cools things about many video games is that they connect people in several ways. For example, when I first started playing Minecraft, I visited wikipedia pages and forums to learn about crafting and recipes for the game. This was knowledge that was shared by other players and in turn confirmed and shared by even more players.

Multiplayer games put players in direct virtual contact with one another all the time. Even if players choose not to chat via text or audio with their fellow squad members/teammates or the opposition, players, in order to be successful, must work together. In games like Overwatch, players must be mindful not only of teammates’ character/loadout selections but also that of the opposing team. Players are constantly aware of other players—what they are doing and how they are playing.

With the rapid expanse of technology, very little of what many people do only impacts a tiny bubble. The stakes are much larger because of our access to information and the number of people that puts us in touch with.

Gee really touched on this idea of connections during his talk last Thursday. He referred to affinity spaces where people are brought together by common interests. A person’s interest in Minecraft might lead to online forums, the Minecraft wiki, Twitch, or even YouTube channels dedicated to the game. Technology and interests can push us outward toward others that understand and share those same passions.

Gee didn’t say this, but I believe that part of letting people know they matter is by acknowledging that their interests have value. I know as an educator that not every student plays or even cares about video games, but some of them do. If I can reach even a few students every semester because I acknowledge that interest, that literacy, I can do my job a little bit better. Sharing interests, listening, and providing opportunities that are outside the proverbial box can help me build relationships with my students. And that seems worth it to me.

If you’re interested in the specifics of what Gee has to say about video games, I highly recommend What Video Games Have to Teach Us About Learning and Literacy.

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Minecraft is an open-world sandbox video game where players explore, craft, gather resources, build, and survive in a natural setting. The game includes minimal elements of combat and has a rating of “Everyone 10+” by the ESRB (the Entertainment Software Rating Board). Since the game has no direct goal, and players may choose to play in a variety of ways, I view Minecraft as an ideal choice for integrating into a writing class.

In the video game-based composition class I taught, Minecraft was used as a text for the rhetorical analysis of traditional elements (audience, purpose, context, etc.). The possibilities presented by such a game can translate into many exercises involving audience and discourse analysis. As Shaffer, Williamson, Squire, Halverson, and Gee state, “as a form, games encourage exploration, personalized meaning-making, individual expression, and playful experimentation with social boundaries” (110).

My students not only analyzed how they used and played the game, but were encouraged to consider the following questions in the game’s context: How was Minecraft advertised upon its release? How did your play of the game reinforce or challenge the expectations that the advertisements produced? What can a game tell us about authorship and audience? What can Minecraft tell you about video game players? Does Minecraft tell you anything about gaming culture? Is Minecraft a violent game? In what ways did you create an identity in game? How did your interactions in game with other players shape your identity? How did your faction/group use language to communicate? How did your faction/group attempt to interact and persuade individuals who were not members of your group?

One of the rhetorically significant features of the game is that players can type in-game to communicate with one another. This presents a unique rhetorical situation for analysis. Using a specific mod, in-game chat can be logged for later access. The in-game chat can be beneficial in terms of studying the use and development of “gamer speak” and its relationship to discourse communities and identity.

Minecraft provides interesting visual spaces for analysis as well. Players may create virtually anything they can think of from simple huts for protection to castles, windmills, and monuments from antiquity. The creative possibilities alone provide players with a level of agency unavailable in many video games and provide flexibility for educators. Students can literally construct visual meaning from pixelated blocks.

Players can also alter the appearance of their avatars. You might recognize the skins of the avatars above image as Batman and Robin. Several free websites (such as minecraftskins.com) exist that allow players to design their own custom avatar skins or to select from a variety of preexisting designs. I view this as a perk from an educational standpoint. My students were able to emphasize their personalities and to reinvent themselves within a game because they had the opportunity to create their own avatars. In perhaps a small way, this opportunity is empowering. Students who chose the stock avatar and never changed it revealed just as much as the students who did elect for personalized avatars.

Video games can be an excellent tool in the composition classroom for many reasons, but I see Minecraft as being especially powerful because the game serves as a relatively safe and entry-level example for complex discussions and critical analysis. Not that “safe” examples are always ideal, but I believe Minecraft made it easier for my students to enter into discussions on topics such as sexism and violence in video games and gaming culture (key components of this particular class). One such conversation stemmed from the pixelated graphics of the game and whether or not swinging a sword at another player in Minecraft was as violent as the acts in Grand Theft Auto V. More importantly, video games, their designs and principles, provide relevant rhetorical texts for reflection in a composition class.

Playing a carefully selected video game in a composition class can lead to a rich reservoir for analysis, critique, and play suitable for the engagement in active critical thinking, reading, and questioning expected at the college level.

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Shaffer, David Williamson, Kurt R. Squire, Richard Halverson, and James P. Gee. “Video Games and the Future of Learning.” The Phi Delta Kappan, 87.2 (Oct. 2005): 104-11. JSTOR.

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Today I’m going to talk about the use of the word good, specifically when referring to video games. One trend I have noticed during my time studying video games and reading various texts regarding Game Studies and games in education is the use of good as a qualifier. Sometimes the term is a bit too exclusive, but I’m getting ahead of myself.

What is a good game?

In order to examine and potentially answer this question, I’m going to turn to an outside source. An exciting find from my constant search for sources was the Handbook of Research on Effective Electronic Gaming in Education. This three volume set was edited by Richard E. Ferdig and published in 2009 by IGI Global. While the work included is now eight years old, which could be a major caveat, the set contains many articles/chapters of interest, including chapters on the visual analysis of avatars and games in foreign language study.

One such piece, by Katrin Becker and James R. Parker, is titled “On Choosing Games and What Counts as a ‘Good’ Game” (Chapter 37). Becker and Parker set about to change the research landscape for Game Studies by pushing for a system by which to assess video games. Essentially, they want researchers and educators to provide critical rationale for the games they choose to work with:

…it is time to begin looking more closely at how we are choosing the games we study, the criteria we use for those studies, and how we support our claims about the suitability of the game for our purposes. (638)

I completely agree with this idea. In fact, I would extend it. While Becker and Parker are focused on the implications of game choice for studies and other research, I would argue that the same sentiment should hold true for educator’s using games in the classroom/as a part of class (I say that as an educator who used Minecraft in a composition course).

So let’s first talk about this idea of good in the context of Becker’s and Parker’s chapter. They propose using game reviews and lists, like ‘Top Games of 2016’, because these sources often reflect both “critical and commercial success” (636-37). These lists are our best bets because:

When it comes to resources that are primarily creative or artistic in nature, subjective measures are often the only ones we have. (637)

They mostly talk about good in terms of success, which they seem to measure by popularity, commercial success, and critical acclaim. Essentially, Becker and Parker want researchers to be accountable for their choices, and if researchers make claims about a game, such as X game is good for teaching students about the American Revolution, they should be able to back up those claims with actual proof and not just opinion. All of that is sound, at least to me.

Becker and Parker then go on to describe, in detail, a data fusion technique that will consistently assist researchers in selecting video games for their studies.

This all seems valuable to a certain point. Again, I feel inclined to state that the authors are primarily addressing video games being used for educational research/studies. My disappointment with some of the chapter stems from my wish that Becker and Parker had included video games being used in the classroom directly and from the fact that I view their perception of success as limited.

It is apparent that money talks. If a game makes millions of dollars overnight, and continues to do so for some time, it is a commercial success. However, there are plenty of video games, movies, and songs that reach commercial success that I wouldn’t consider good. But that brings us back to being subjective. The same can be said for a video game that is popular. For example, many people like Sleeping Dogs, but I’m not a fan. Does that mean it isn’t a good game? No. That’s part of the problem I see with relying on game reviews and “top 10/best of” lists. Sure, that is one way to gauge the popularity of video games, but it isn’t the only way.

Perhaps the major issue I take with Becker’s and Parker’s proposal is that they say next to nothing about the importance of how the video games would be used for the studies. I would argue that, in the classroom at least, the use of the game is even more important than the game’s popularity. For example, The Witcher 3, a game that I love dearly, made it to the top of many “best of” lists at the end of 2015. Let’s say I wanted to use the game with a composition course for the purpose of analyzing visual rhetoric and digital literacy. While the game is popular, made a ton of money, and was generally loved by the critics, it would not be the best choice because the game is an open-world RPG that could take players 80+ hours to complete.

I am all for being held accountable for my choices when it comes to subjects and materials in the classroom. Unfortunately, I don’t think the selection of video games can be neatly figured into the compilation of lists and game reviews. After all, some reviewers and critics have vastly different opinions. Assessing video games for educational use is complicated, and I can understand the attempt to create a universal system. I’m just not sure there can be one.

As a final point, I’d like to mention that Becker and Parker looked at papers from 2003-2006 to assess their “explanations of game subject choices” (638). Frankly, what they found was shocking:

Virtually all papers examined offer a description of the game(s) used. Fewer (37%) explained why this game meets the need of the study, and fewer still (15%) supported that explanation with citations. (639)

Clearly, at the time, there was a need for critical explanations for the selection of video games. I suspect that this has improved at least slightly but that there is still a lot of room for improvement.

What do you think? What criteria should be used? How would you go about selecting a video game for use in the classroom and then rationalize that choice?

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Becker, Katrin, and James R. Parker. “On Choosing Games and What Counts as a ‘Good’ Game.” Handbook of Research on Effective Electronic Gaming in Education, edited by Richard E. Ferdig, vol. 2, IGI Global, 2009, pp. 636-651.

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First off, what is The Witness? At its core, The Witness is a puzzle game. Players walk out of a tunnel on an island where they are immediately tasked with solving puzzles that become increasingly more difficult. The base idea of the puzzles is to draw a line from a starting point to an end point. But anyone who has spent a significant amount of time with the game knows that most of the puzzles are anything but simple.

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