You could say I came to this book with a lot of baggage.
I'm a game designer myself, with one board game published in 2010 and another shipping to Kickstarter backers now. I've been designing board games for about 15 years, and with all the playtesting I've done in that time, I think I've learned a thing or two about good game design.
There are lots of ways to divide games, but for the purposes of this book, there are two kinds of games that are relevant. On one hand, we have "recreational" games. These are most of the kinds of games you've probably played: Halo, Baldur's Gate, Monopoly, Settlers of Catan, Dungeons & Dragons, and Fiasco. On the other hand, we have "transformative" game. These range from educational games created specifically for the classroom to "art games" that are meant more to affect the player in some way.
As a designer and fan of recreational games, I've always slightly mistrusted tranformatives. They carry a lot of weight in the ever-growing world of gaming academia, but they don't seem to have made a dent in the popular consciousness, even in my relatively tiny corner of designer board games. And the examples of transformatives I've played or read about have not exactly blown me away, from the beautiful-but-not-really-a-good-game stylings of Passage to the sophomoric, self-absorbed histrionics of Brenda Romero's Train.
Recent events have caused me to reconsider my position, though. I am now curious about transformatives. Do they really have the power to change the world?
I'd heard of this book, and of McGonical in general, so I attempted to read (listen to) it with an open mind. McGonical starts out very strong. She is no slouch as a game designer, and her introductory definition of games (influenced by Bernard Suits' clever, classic definition of a game as "a voluntary attempt to overcome unnecessary obstacles") shows that she isn't someone who just blundered into the wrong room.
Alas, McGonical has a tendency towards hyperbole that's a little exhausting. When she talks about someone, it's never enough to say that person is a scientist or a game designer. It's always a "leading scientist" or "noted game designer". Once or twice would have been fine, but she uses this trick multiple times each chapter. It gets old.
She also is a video game designer by nature. There's nothing wrong with that in and of itself, of course, but in this book, her default scope for the word "game" is "video game". She does not mention board games other than a small bit about Scrabble, and she never even mentions roleplaying games.
This is a shame, as there are a ton of fantastic examples of good game design McGonigal could draw from, if she were more experienced in the field of games as a whole. Board games have gone a long way from Monopoly and Scrabble, as any fan of the Euro or Ameritrash school could tell you. Roleplaying games have had a similar Renaissance too, with old-school retro designs like Pathfinder contrasting with more narrative-based games like Fiasco. And a fan of transformative games should at least know about Nordic Jeepform LARPing; there are some intense, life-changing experiences that come out of that school of game design. So while video games are a broad topic in and of themselves, why limit yourself?
Third, while McGonigal defined games beautifully at the start of the book, she strays quite far in her examples of games that can transform the world. Foursquare's Mayor feature? Kind of a game. Folding@Home? Runs on a game platform, but presents no real obstacles for the player to actively overcome. You just install it and let it run. By McGonigal's own definition, it's not a game. Evoke seems like a classroom activity; as such, it is not voluntary (by any reasonable definition) and is therefore not a game. SuperStruct might technically be a game, but it seems about as fun as writing a thesis project. Which, granted, some people do find fun and engaging, but I don't think an activity that dry is going to gather that many "SEHI".
"SEHI", it turns out, stands for Super-Empowered Hopeful Individuals, a group of optimistic people bursting with intelligence and initiative. McGonigal sees these people as being able to drive positive change into the world, activated by games.
Other than the whole Übermench-y feel of this whole enterprise, I find it a little strange that McGonigal never actually acknowledges the difficulty of actualizing gamers into positive, global change, other than the occasional mention of angry chatrooms. But the problem goes past fifteen-year-olds hurling homophobic and misogynistic insults at each other. Why is geek culture so skewed towards the straight white male? How can we carve out a safe place for women at game and comic conventions, where so many attendees seem to equate cosplay with consent?
McGonigal appropriates video gaming culture's terminology, like "Epic Win", but with that, you have to take the bad stuff, too. The childish macho posturing, the tendency towards extreme violence in AAA video games to substitute for things like plot and character, the ongoing, difficult integration of any perspective other than the straight white male. McGonigal would seem to have the perfect perspective to tackle this issues head-on.
Now, granted, this isn't exactly fair. This book came out in 2010, and the problems behind geek culture hadn't really been addressed. We had yet to deal with Mike Krahulik's shameful public examples of misogyny and transphobia (which, credit to him, he's finally trying to address), reports of convention security indifference to sexual abuse of cosplayers, game companies announcing reams of technical revolution in their upcoming games but claiming they have no available resources for playable women gamers, and the question of male geeks' feelings of entitlement to womens' bodies. So although this stuff was all there, it wasn't really public enough for discussion.
Also, this book was written before the word "gamification" was coined. And since then, gamification has lost its shine. It used to be that gamfication was the next big thing in marketing, but I think companies have backed off on it as a mainstream strategy.
Meanwhile, Zynga showed us that an addictive game is not necessarily a good game. Their behavioral manipulations masquerading as games have given a lot of casual game designers reason to pause when working out a "freemium" strategy. Is this the right thing to do? Is it right to keep players soullessly clicking on the next big reward?
And the low barrier to entry for casual and indie game designers has resulted in a glut of small mobile games. This is wonderful in many ways, but discovery is an absolute mess now. If you want to change the world by making a game, how can you get the world's attention to try it? This has never been a trivial question, but more than ever, it needs an answer. If the mobile world is facing an enormous developer cull, how would that affect transformative games?
So perhaps this makes the book a bit dated. If you want to tell me that gamers hold the key to saving the world (for a given definition of "saving the world"), I'll need to hear how gamers can fix their own issues before getting any further. I'd also want to hear how gamification will work in a post-Farmville world. And I'd want to know how a small game that encourages people to do good can possibly be noticed in a world where gatekeeping is lousy enough to that hastily-thrown-together game clones like 2048 and amateurish efforts like Flappy Bird outdo any number of more original, deliberately-executed game designs.
So far, this might all sound like a rip job. And truth be told, the last third of the book was a bit of a slog, because I just couldn't share McGonigal's enthusiasm and optimism. At worst, it came off as epic self-promotion, as she kept trumpeting her own creations.
But I gave this book three stars, because it's already had an effect on me. I used to have a dismissive view of transformative games. But two of McGonigal's games, Kind to be Cruel and Tombstone Hold 'Em, are phenomenal examples of recreational games with a significant transformative element. They're fun to play, but they also work for positive change. I never thought that was possible; the only transformative games I'd been exposed to have been art projects that have been interesting at best and puerile at worst, holding absolutely no engagement or recreational value. Those games showed me that large-scale art games do have a place in the world; they're not just magnets for seed money from starry-eyed VCs.
So I'm looking at games in a new light. I don't buy all of McGonigal's argument that games and gamers will make the world a better place. But I think we can do small bits of good with our games, beyond the regular escapism that a good game offers (and let's be honest: the feeling of oblivion one gets from a good game is freaking ecstatic).
I may not have agreed with a lot of this book, and a good part of it set my teeth on edge. But I am very glad I read it. It's good to know that there's room for positive change in the field that is closest to my heart.