A Theory of Fun

I read Raph Koster's A Theory of Fun recently, and had a pretty mixed reaction (as I do to most impassioned bits of writing). On the one hand, I want to share in his optimism regarding the things games may teach us. On the other hand, I usually disagree fundamentally with some of his ideas regarding not just games, but life itself.

To begin with, though, it was an elegant, light read, and I appreciated those things about it. Entertaining cartoons on every other page made it a fast 240 pages, and his intelligent but conversational style had a nice flow to them. He speeds through evidence, leaving the explaining up to the notes in the end of the book, and frequently drops names and events with the (much appreciated) expectation that the reader will either understand or can find out if necessary. In those ways I enjoyed it, because it was like talking to a smart person about a topic which is usually trivialized (and I agree with him here that games are not trivial).

I agree with the idea that games are fundamentally about patterns and learning, as I grew up on math and games pretty equally and have always seen the relationship. I think that at our best (or when we're young), learning is a hunger that drives us to things such as play as means of understanding and absorbing the world. As we get older, we use age as an excuse not to do this anymore, but even though learning is technically more difficult at 70, I've known a nimble-minded septuagenarian or two in my life (mostly mathematicians).

In general, I operate on the notion that there is no good reason not to be smart and to keep getting smarter until you die. Games help us with this, and I think even games about "primitive" or near-obsolete skills (like aiming) exercise some portion of the brain that would not otherwise be used. That, in principle, is the inherent importance of games --as brain gymnastics at the very least, if not great teachers.

In many ways, though, Koster gets a little too sentimental in this little book, especially when it comes to the marvels of bright-eyed children learning rapidly and voluntarily. Maybe because I lack empathy for the parent-role, I find these sentiments to be mostly ineffective with me. I also resent anything that suggests the world is changing any faster than it probably ever was, although I agree with his conclusion from this faulty starting point, which is that games should adapt to the needs of the cultures who play them.

Even with adaptations, though, I think I'll still love shooters and fighting games. I have a brain that can grasp puzzles, and I love those too, but there is a joy in the elegance of a well-executed fighting combo or that nice, clean headshot. I do not exaggerate when I say these things give me a satisfaction much like adding that perfect last line to a drawing. Koster begs the reader to put down a mastered game, to move on, but I disagree. And when finals are over, I'm going to play Soul Calibur III yet again without giving it a second thought. And you know what? It'll be pretty damn fun.