Plunging Code

QUESTIONING:
After reading Gamer Theory, I was intrigued by the idea of algorithms. Algorithms are the basic structure for the game; they guide the game, set up what is possible for the gamer to do, and control the behavior of the game. These bits of code, created by the game designer, serve as a skeleton. They support the story, and allow the game to be played. What happens if you strip away the imagery the algorithm controls? Would it stick out like the bone in a broken arm? Could the game still be understood? How much attention do we pay to these algorithms, and what happens if we are exposed to them and see them for what they are? If an algorithm is altered, does that change the point of the game or does it just show the imperfection of the algorithm?

I was also intrigued by the idea of the mundane, which is something we often try to escape by submerging ourselves into the world of the game. When we are tired of dealing with bills, cleaning, taking care of children, and working, we often turn to video games. But what happens when the video game you play has the same things you're trying to avoid? The Sims demonstrates this well, because in the game, you are working to pay the bills, paying the bills to avoid repossession, feeding your fish to prevent them from dying, and oftentimes managing a family, telling each one of them when to urinate, lest they go on themselves and suffer a strong negative reaction that upsets them. If that happens, you must spend time increasing their hygiene and making them feel better for embarrassing themselves. Not much distance remains between our world and theirs, at this point. Why would we choose to play a game that forces us to do the same things we have to do every day? Why are these scenes incorporated? I noticed while playing that when a toilet overflows, there is a specific animation for plunging and fixing the toilet. The movements are bizarre, and I wondered why this was even a piece of the game that needed to be shown. The Sim begins crying out in frustration, whining, and talking while furiously plunging the toilet. The animation is awkward to say the least, and is what really sparked my interest in the depiction of the mundane.

TESTING:
The images and videos I created draw attention to the mundane in games and the discomfort created in the rapid repetition of game actions. The interface for building a Sim home doesn’t draw attention to itself, but when you see the repeating clips of the use of the interface, it becomes unnatural and bizarre. The viewer becomes aware that they are looking at a game, and cannot lose themselves in playing the game. The actions of the Sims depicted are everyday actions that any one viewer has experienced at some time in their lives. I want viewers to question the appeal of some of these actions and why they present themselves during game play.

CREATING:
The algorithm integrates itself into the completed scene of the game, slowly erasing the image that it controls. The algorithm becomes the image, and draws a strange attention to itself. The code that takes over the image is the code that composes the image; the code that overtakes toilet is the code that creates the image of the toilet. This principle is the same for the other replaced objects. The code is still representing a toilet, or a window, or a bush, but is not read the same way. While structurally the items are the same,  the formal representation has been altered.

During the recording process, files became corrupted and glitchy. This was unintentional, but partially answered my question about what happens to altered algorithms. Despite being a function coded into the game, the algorithm ceased to perform as it was written to do, and created something that was not anticipated as being a part of the game. The recorded footage is still part of the game, but is it read as such? While the glitchy recording could be detrimental to someone trying to accurately depict a scene in The Sims, it only enhanced my experience with the program. I was pleased by the failure of the program to work as it was created to.

CONCLUDING:
Showing the algorithm instead of an image created a visually interesting composition. I was much more captivated by the scene that had been altered than by the scene as it was intended to be viewed. This does not change that the scene is from The Sims, or that it does not depict what it is supposed to; it only shows the imperfection of the game, and how, despite disfigurement, the algorithm is still functioning as it was written. The altered video screen could be considered as the algorithm no longer functioning correctly, but in essence, the algorithm is still as it was written.
It will take further exploration to answer all of the questions I had, but I believe this was a good start at figuring out the visual function of the algorithm. The scenes of the mundane are visually interesting, but still lack exploration into why they are important elements. Drawing attention to them is a good start, however, because once the viewer has been exposed to the repetition of them, these odd occurrences will start to stick out and draw even more attention to themselves.

INCLUDING:
How could the idea of mundane actions be emphasized even more? How could I emphasize the importance of these mundane actions, especially in The Sims? I want to venture into other games that also have elements of the mundane, namely eating, jobs, or some other action such as that. Does having one still and two looping videos show the importance enough?