This narrative has sustained me for a very long time. It took a trip to GDC last year to discover how incomplete a picture it draws. Everything changes when meeting face-to-face with like-minded people. The energies I witnessed there, with impromptu folk games, ideas thrown in every direction, and general excitement, were unparalleled.

Yes, there is a local scene in Israel. The GameIS people are wonderful and gracious. Meetings usually have an agenda (a lecture by someone from the “industry”, a screening of Indie Game: The Movie, Hackathons, etc.), and are generally large “events”. Events that give a feeling of hit-or-miss: if you didn’t show up, you didn’t go to The Big Event! You must not be serious.

And these are necessary as well. I’m glad we have a strong community, rife with technical and artistic proficiency. I’m glad we have multiple Global Game Jam locations, and a yearly Unconference that lets anyone speak their mind. And yet, something is missing.

A local meetup group. For anyone who wants to make games, no matter what their level of involvement or experience. Instead of making gigantic events, a low-profile, consistently-recurring meetup is the way to do it. Grassroots, get people who really want to be involved, and spread via word of mouth. This doesn’t mean reinventing the wheel: there are tens of these groups around the world. You meet every week or two. Learn from each other, share ideas, and get feedback from what you’ve made.

And thus, the Kfar-Saba Indies were born.

If you’re in the greater Kfar-Saba area, come join us every other Thursday, for a relaxed game-making meetup! We have an official Facebook group as well.

If you’re interested in doing the same, listen to what Andy Moore has to say about it:

Listening to some of the accounts reminded me of a game that I really enjoyed, Star Wars Jedi Knight: Dark Forces II. I was in high school, and it must have been either 1999 or 2000. A friend from my class lent me a precious CD, holding a number of games that were … less than legitimate. This was before broadband internet was widespread, meaning the original game, which spanned (I believe) two whole CDs, had been stripped of its full-motion video cut-scenes and CD-quality music and compressed into a single .ZIP file.

Around that time, my parents had taken me to a Pat Metheny concert, when his trio visited Israel on tour. On the way out of the auditorium, we bought his album, Trio 99->00, which I still love today. This CD was in my computer’s optical drive a lot during this period, so while playing Jedi Knight, the familiar orchestral Star Wars background music was replaced with a modern American jazz trio. As I would explore the industrial factories and extra-terrestrial valleys, I might be accompanied by A Lot of Livin’ To Do or Capricorn.

There was a lot of mystery in the game, because I didn’t have those full-motion video cut-scenes to help tell me what was going on or what my objective was. I also used cheat codes because I was a huge sissy. Despite Jedi Knight being a first-person shooter, there was a third-person mode for when the light saber was used, in order to aid combat. I would use third-person as much as possible, because it was fun to control this character jumping around, waving a light saber. This resulted in me wandering around an empty level, looking for something to trigger the next level, listening to cool jazz and brandishing a light saber.

It’s hard to explain how calm and peaceful it was. To be sure, I was trying to get out of the level and move on to the next one. But the exploration had a special feel to it. Maybe some of this magic is rediscovered today in games like Proteus. And I think the Megastructure and its endless chambers may bring back other aspects.

EDIT: A video to help relive the experience!

About a year ago, I finished the last semester of my Physics degree at Tel Aviv University. A few scary exams and written projects later, and I had completed my requirements. Two days ago, they announced a Higgs-like particle observed at the LHC. Yesterday, I received notice that my university user is about to expire. And so I feel the time has come for me to write a little about my own experiences. (Also inspired by a friend, turning 26, who wrote a few words to mark the occasion.)

For many people, and for me especially, a university degree is a voluntary act. My reasons had nothing to do with finding a job or getting “ahead”, because I had already been a professional programmer. Extremely confident with my capabilities, I chose Physics because it drew me more than any other exact science. I also thought it might help with “breaking into” the games “industry”. Because of my high matriculation grades, the thought of failure was quite far from my mind. I didn’t even take the first semester seriously, remaining to work part-time at my job (hastily remedied by second semester, when I quit). I also hesitantly add that while I was not pressured into higher learning, my family’s culture surrounded me with a sense that it is The Right Thing to Do. At the very least, people close to me who I respect greatly also have backgrounds in physics.

Israelis begin university relatively late in life due to mandatory military service. I started even later still (at 25), making me among the oldest studying for their bachelor’s. Being older didn’t make it much easier. I certainly wasn’t any smarter than my classmates, some of whom are shining examples of the brightest minds I have had the pleasure of meeting. This was, eventually, a great experience for me, and a step outside of being surrounded by programmer types all day long. There were programmers in our group, but plenty of others had different backgrounds and had been steeped in various professional (and non-professional) cultures.

Physics, science, and thought

When studying physics with others, one begins to notice two types of thought.

• The intuitive: An intuitive physics student will study a problem by “feeling” for the answer. For this student, equations and formulae may be more of a chore or a hindrance than a tool, something to be left for the engineers to work out later. Qualitative answers are always better than quantitative ones, and theories become more of an abstract, cloud-like entity in their minds, rather than a concrete set of relations.
• The methodological: This student has organized his or her previously-learned knowledge in a thoughtful manner. This organization may be either inside the student’s mind, or held in an external structure (like meticulously-taken notes and photocopies of all important material). In either case, when solving a problem, this student starts with the known values and carefully works their way towards a solution, walking from node to node of their organized network of information.

The obvious statement is that to be successful at physics, one needs to have a balance between these two types of thought. The not-quite-so-obvious statement is that if one has to choose between one and the other, the methodological type is far, far more important. (At least for this stage of learning.)

Intuition is extremely important, because only intuition can see beyond the myopia of our rulebooks and theoretical frameworks. However, intuition is also often wrong.

Studying physics typically begins with the most basic of concepts: Newtonian mechanics. While not simple or easy, it is not too challenging to understand that the symbols on the blackboard actually relate to things we experience in our day-to-day. Especially in our age of 2D physics-based games, I doubt anyone could look at a diagram of two weights on an inclined plane without immediately “running the tape forward” in their head. This miracle of human thought is remarkable and wondrous — but to rely on it is a mistake. Professors often talk of “developing your intuition” in each subject, but I think they really mean “understand the material better”. Having a system is worth much more than being able to visualize problems, because physics rapidly gets to a point where visualization is extremely difficult (for example: thermodynamics, special relativity, or quantum mechanics).

While we’re on preconceived notions, I’d like to mention religion and science for a moment. For both Quantum I and II, we had two different professors who were [apparently] extremely observant of the Jewish faith. How can someone hold religion in such a central part of their life, while teaching about quantum mechanics? Does god “play dice”? How does one reconcile these two seemingly opposite notions? This puzzled me for quite a while, and it wasn’t until I read Alan Watts’s The Wisdom of Insecurity (thanks to Wolfgang for recommending it) that I began to understand:

The clash between science and religion has not shown that religion is false and science is true. It has shown that all systems of definition are relative to various purposes and that none of them actually “grasp” reality. And because religion was being misused as a means for actually grasping and possessing the mystery of life a certain measure of “debunking” was highly necessary.

There are religious rituals and moralities and they can form a kind of answer in response to certain questions. Science offers insight into the mechanics of the world, answering entirely different questions. As the quote hints, there are overlapping areas, but for the most part, both of these disciplines entirely fail to bring a complete understanding of all there is to know. This rejection of the absolute struck a chord, and it made studying science easier. It suddenly wasn’t so important to try and find the ultimate abstraction, or the most general solution, because there may not be one. And it seemed possible that a person could pursue both science and religion without living in conflict.

Unexpected turns of events

Before my time at the university, I don’t know if I ever considered the concept of failure. Sure, things went wrong in my daily life, none of which could be termed an absolute failure. But subscribing to a three-year cram of fast-paced studies, graded by an uncaring staff with absolute finality produced a new option of true self-failure. Having to retake courses, having to extend studies beyond the basic six semesters, dropping out entirely — these are all modes of failure that I was suddenly exposed to. Furthermore, my own abilities started being called into question. I left the safe haven of being, in what was my opinion, among the best at my field. Instead of being humbled or spurred to greatness, I started experiencing stress-related health symptoms (which I won’t go into here).

Time has passed since then, and I am much better now. And maybe a little wiser for my troubles.

Pacing of studies

Three years is too short a time for this amount of material. If I have one criticism or suggestion for the university, it would be to shorten the curriculum or add another semester or two. The smartest students got extremely good grades consistently, that much is true. But we are not all geniuses, and I feel that I was always one step behind the material. If I had taken my time (and some students did this purposefully), I would take an extra year to complete my B.Sc. and learn each subject more thoroughly.

The feeling of being behind was emphasized by the way professors and TAs push through the material. There is a constant feeling of “let’s get through this rudimentary subject matter and get to the Real Stuff.” The problem is, even in your Master’s degree, you don’t really get to the Real Stuff. Maybe for your doctorate or post-doc. Good luck!

(Although I suppose this is a symptom of any educational system — constantly “preparing” the student for “real life”, forgetting that Real Life is actually happening right now, no matter where you are in your studies.)

The legacy

Most of my colleagues stayed to begin their Master’s degrees, or to re-take failed courses. I took indefinite leave of higher learning for the time being, turning my attention to creative endeavors such as game programming and drawing.

So what did I get out of my degree?

Everything they say about “new modes of thought” are correct. I can see things a little differently, I can analyze problems from a new viewpoint. I can read technical documents easier. It’s more natural for me to stop and come up with a plan before diving into making or fixing something. Maybe even some improvements to self-discipline.

I also can appreciate the academic bureaucracies better (something I don’t feel I will ever want to be a part of). What it means to research something, what it means to have to work with professors — even if I didn’t have to do much of either.

Furthermore, there was a strong feeling of knowing less and less the more you know. The close you get to understanding a subject, the more it shows you the true vastness of what lies beyond your knowledge (and human knowledge in general, as well). Similarly, I discovered subjects in physics that I really, really didn’t care for (Solid State physics comes to mind).

That said, I did learn new things. It’s saddening to say, but I’ve already forgotten many of them, though I’m sure that if I had to pick them up again it would be possible (with a lot of hard work, of course). I have a list hanging around of special subjects I grew especially fond of that I’d like to put here:

• Harmonic analysis: one of the central themes in physics and engineering. Fourier is the simplest kind, but it pops up everywhere. Similar constructs include spherical harmonics and Bessel functions. Harmonic decomposition is beautiful, elegant, and incredibly useful. Learning how to build and use each kind was one of the most satisfying parts of my degree. Also related:
• Self-adjoint differential operators.
• Waves in general (linear waves, plane waves, spherical waves ….).
• Analytical mechanics: one of the most eye-opening courses. An entirely new way to look at problems, all the while paving the way towards more advanced subjects (like quantum physics).
• The seeming magic of the Lagrangian and Hamiltonian formalisms. Solving unthinkably difficult problems often with the greatest of ease.
• Principle of stationary action, the quantum-mechanical interpretation, relation to Fermat’s principle of shortest time, Euler-Lagrange, etc., etc., etc….
• Understanding the Hamiltonian as an operator, specifically the energy operator and the generator of the time-evolution operator (!!!!!!!!!!!).
• Vector calculus: some of these tools were pretty nice (Stokes, Green, Gradient, Divergence theorems, etc.).
• Special Relativity: About the least intuitive subject, and one of the most interesting. Extremely hard to really visualize. If you don’t believe me, see this video of a relativistic speed simulation. (General Relativity is even more bizarre, but I didn’t take that course.)
• Maxwell’s Equations: concise, elegant, and the incredible inspiration for Einstein’s special relativity. There is even a covariant form that turns all four of these into one single equation.
• Schrodinger’s Equation: Instead of providing deterministic laws of motion, this equation explains how a system is distributed statistically over time and space. Perfectly solvable for only a few special cases, and thus there are tons of approximation methods for “real life” systems. These aren’t much fun, but it helps to show the sheer depth and how much we don’t know about this quantum world.
• Astrophysics: I really hated this course, yet it (and other lectures I attended) tickled a deep feeling of wonder at the scale of the universe. Dark matter, dark energy, exoplanets and strange objects, and uncountable stars. All sorts of things to discover there. If I were to continue studies, I would probably go in this direction.
• EDIT — more things I liked!!
• Complex numbers and contour integrals!! This bit of Cauchy magic is too cool for words.
• Let’s not forget dimensional analysis and other approximation techniques. This skill might be trivial in some cases, but this is the kind of thing I literally use in the supermarket.

I also took an extra-curricular course in 19th Century Russian Literature, which was excellent. During my last year I used the central library extensively, reading books by Dostoevsky, Hesse, Joyce, Tolstoy, and Watts, among others. I also got pretty good at using Matlab and LyX/LaTeX.

“Academic” stuff I’ve done

• End-of-studies project: Gravitational Microlensing and the Search for Extrasolar Planets
• A software project demonstrating a genetic algorithm, using quadrupedal creatures simulated in 3D

(Looking for the links to the game? Skip to the end of the post…)

June began with a game development event called 7DFPS: the seven-day FPS challenge. Participants from around the globe built first-person shooter games. I didn’t sign up, and my game doesn’t appear in the list, but the fact that the event existed was enough of an inspiration for me to try my own take on the genre.

Whenever a strict theme is chosen for any creative endeavor, I usually try to subvert it in some way, in order to fake a sense of freedom while remaining within the word of the rules. In fact, if I really want to go wild some time in the future, choosing a “no subversive themes” modifier would be quite out of the box indeed!

The 7DFPS challenge is most commonly referred to by its acronym, which gives quite a lot of freedom to the creative backronym writer. (Some people suggested making a 7-dimensional FPS.) I liked the idea of first-person being a literary term, so I turned to my old pal/nemesis: Inform 7.

Inform 7 is a tool for creating text adventures, which I have dabbled with in the past. Before I started on this project, I did a little hunting for something similar on the internet, but I couldn’t find anyone who had made an FPS using a text engine before. I got excited that my joke idea might carry some weight with it. (After finishing, however, Christer told me he had seen such a thing from a previous Ludum Dare — EDIT: here it is).

Text adventures are traditionally written in the second person (“You pick up ye flask”, etc.), a fact I completely ignored until I was almost done making the game. By that time, however, I felt like what I was working on was worth something in its own right. The idea of taking a thoughtful, semantic system and forcing it into the mold of a fast-paced, reflex-heavy game based primarily on split-second reactions made perverse sense to me.

I planned on having many more features in the game. More verbs, different enemy types with their own AI, multiple non-rectangular rooms, obstacles, having the room report only the locations of objects you are facing, finer-grain aiming abilities, weapon spread, etc. … Perhaps it was fortunate I focused on finishing it. In the end, it became more a turn-based grid game, similar to a roguelike, rather than an FPS kind of game. And thus I started with “7DFPS” and two weeks later returned with “14DSPRL”.

One thing that surprised me about the game was the reactions I got from friends who played it. One of them, Yoni, took the time to figure out the mechanics (by playing) and was able to complete the first version. He gave me feedback, some of which I incorporated into a newer, harder release. Other friends reported how they found the game fun, which I really wasn’t expecting to hear. I’m fairly sure that the game does NOT warrant extensive exploration, seeing as the mechanics are so simplistic. (I fancied myself a miniature Michael Brough while working on this project, but my two or three simple rules governing gameplay fall painfully short of his deep and complex game constructs.)

Before I link to the game itself, a word about using Inform 7. Inform is a fantastic language. It’s extremely different from any other kind of programming I’ve experienced. It’s extremely well-built for the task of making text adventures. And my favorite feature is how lovely it is to read through the code. It’s not quite poetry, but it gives a feeling that perfectly matches the concept behind the language — as you read through, you read facts and rules about the world you created. You can write “procedures”, but it’s really meant to be a declarative language. Which means that whenever you try to make a game that is NOT a traditional text adventure, reading the code you wrote starts getting a little ugly.

And this is my problem with Inform 7: not that the language is bad, but that I always seem to want too much from it. I try to make it something it isn’t, and this leads to a lot of programming pain. Because even though it is rather elegant in its design, Inform is extremely strict. When describing what you want in the game, you have to be extremely precise, and know the correct wording for each rule type. This is fine, because at the end of the day, a computer has to parse and understand what you are requesting. Also, the documentation is usually sufficient (with very many amazing and eye-opening examples). The problem lies in expectation. Because it is based on natural language, one might find Inform at odds with the strict semantics/syntax demanded of the programmer. Furthermore, finding out how to do something that isn’t mentioned in the documentation can be a hassle.

I think future versions of Inform will only increase its accessibility. The language is very rich, if strict. And when more and more synonyms are added, it will get looser and easier to use. That said, if you are not making a traditional text adventure, you probably should carefully assess your demands on the language before choosing Inform.

And with that behind us, let’s play FPSTXT!!

Original version

Harder version (also a few bugs fixed)

Each version can be played online in your browser. The full source is included.

Megastructure Industries is already a tongue-in-cheek kind of name. It means to invoke Tsutomu Nihei’s fictional company Toha Heavy Industries, as well as give the feeling of a cyberpunk megacorp, with either millions of employees or a fully robotic staff (or both). We obviously build skyscrapers or planet-sized structures on a daily basis. It’s also a callback to Epic MegaGames, which was originally only a few people (and needed the most grandiose name possible).

I love the aesthetic of that era, where companies would spell out their techno-dream right in their name. Digital Equipment Corporation. US Robotics. Microsoft.

If Megastructure Industries had existed in the 80s, it would probably be called Megastructure Technologies, Incorporated.

I was so excited, I put together a logo that would probably work well as a letterhead for official correspondence:

(SVG version)

It uses the Computer font.

My answer to this was FEX, which you can play right now, on many home computers, for free!

This game is notable for being one of the fastest games I’ve ever made — having conceived of the idea late in the afternoon, and completing it only a few hours later. Daniel Zoran graciously made the music (also very quickly and at short notice!).

Go ahead! Give it a try!

EDIT! See the FEX LONG SCREENSHOT teaser trailer:

Thanks to the efforts of ExciteMike (and the incredible Glorious Trainwrecks!), over 1000 games were collected for a “GDC Pirate Kart”! The concept is simple: getting to GDC is expensive, and putting up a booth is even more expensive. Making a pirate kart that would be displayed on the GDC floor enabled a conference presence to any game that anyone could think to make.

I ended up submitting three games to the Kart, and I wanted to present them here.

Disbeliever Drop

An “asset-free” game I doodled in Processing. The goal is to push the red squares (the disbelievers) off the ends of the earth (which you are proving to be flat), before they reach your scientific papers in the center. There’s no sound and no win condition, yet it provides about 3 minutes of solid entertainment. This was also an entry for SoS’s “nanoLD”, though it took me longer than 48 minutes to make it.

Play here (requires Java).

Foreskin Defender

Censored version (uncensored available below)

As part of the Pirate Kart kickstarter campaign to raise enough money to set up the booth, one of the rewards was to have any idea made into a game by the Pirate Kart people. I chose the raciest idea I could find on the list:

My wife is an ANTI-circumcision activist and I would like a game made for her about protecting foreskins. (Seriously.)

The result is the game “Forskin Defender”. This was built in Construct Classic, using original graphics and sounds! The music was ripped from smickandsmudew.com.

Windows only. Original version / censored version.

Realistic GDC Lecture Session Simulator

This game was created in a few hours while waiting in line for “Indie Game: The Movie” at the conference itself. Along with a bunch of other amazing indies, we held an impromptu jam in the queue. This was made in Processing and mspaint (and awkwardstockphotos.com).

Download here.

Entering the Ludum Dare competition takes on different meanings depending on your experience level. At the beginning, LD was a reason to finish a game. Personally, I had never completed a single game project I had started until I joined the competition. This was the reason to participate, and finishing the game was the reward.

While finishing a game is extremely satisfying (and a worthwhile skill to have!), this eventually must cease being the only reason to compete. There are newer challenges that must be addressed — and all the while, retaining this ability to finish the games you start (ie. wisely choosing content, infrastructures, and keeping scope within range….).

One of the challenges is building a game worth experiencing. But if the player doesn’t actually have to “go through the experience” on their own, how personal could it possibly be?

In games, “going through” the experience translates to a difficulty that needs to be overcome. There must be a challenge, a wall against which the player must struggle. It’s more than that, of course: in order to feel connected at any level, there must be something at stake. If we return to games of yore, limited lives means something very real at stake. If you can’t make it through this level, you might lose the game and have to start over (or be forced to part with another quarter!).

To speak from my own experience, the games I have typically built for Ludum Dare are the kind that hold your hand throughout. It’s not entirely clear to me if this hand-holding was the product of an informed design decision, or if I just wanted to make sure anyone who cared to judge the game could see it through to the end. When judged, the best case end result would invariably be “nice”.

I think this changed during the last Ludum Dare, with my entry “Ghost town“. It may not have achieved much in the way of critical review, but one quote has stayed with me:

This is the first game of yours that I get to play where I feel in danger.

-Wolfgang

This game suddenly had an element of risk to it. Something was at stake. And it seemed to me that life was imitating art, because my attitude towards the Ludum Dare competition was different this time. Usually, I try to get my friends to join me on the Ludum Dare challenge. This time I took it a bit further, as I tried to dig a bit deeper into the Israeli LD scene. This was my first foray into the GameIS forum on Facebook, and I was quite nervous. From the responses, I understood that very few people even knew that the Dare existed, despite the community being involved in similar events (like the Global Game Jam).

And so it became a personal mission. I was to give this competition my all, and follow up by presenting the results the next weekend at the Games Unconference. This was risky! If I simply “made a game”, I wouldn’t really have much to show. But if I made something special, something I believed in that contained a piece of myself, I would be able to present it proudly and maybe convince a few others to join in next time.

I think the game shows this improvement. While it may be a standard platformer game (and certainly not as good as I imagined it becoming), I believe it has something “at stake” in it, something slightly special that elevates it beyond a game that I “was able to finish in 48 hours”.

The follow-up talk also went well, and I think we’ll have more Israelis joining in next time (This April is the 10 year anniversary of Ludum Dare! Come make games with us!).

Having no risk is the safest way to do nothing. Obviously too much risk won’t help at all, but there is a balance to be found. When there is something at stake — maybe something special or important, but not necessarily crucial — an interesting thing happens, and the whole experience becomes more personal.

As in life, as in games.

Get It Up - an impromptu folk game

Having finished my degree the previous summer, it would appear that everything should just go “back to normal”. The craziness is over, my brief foray into a bizarre and even slightly antagonistic field (Physics) has come to an end, and now I can return to the workforce with renewed vigor. Because there is only so much exploration a person can do, right?

But it seems that 2012 is already distinguishing itself from previous years. Just over a week ago, I found myself nearly halfway around the world, attending a conference with the most energetic, talented and interesting people I could possibly dream of. This was the Game Developers Conference, held in San Francisco, USA.

A few themes permeated the conference in my perception, themes that resonated with me, my thoughts, and the mindset that brought me ten time zones west of home. In the hopes of making this a mini-series of posts, I’ll discuss one of these themes here.

I’d like to talk about folk games. The first time I had ever heard the term “folk game” was at the inspiring session given by Douglas Wilson (of Die Gute Fabrik). All but devoid of tactical and strategical elements, these mostly physical games are generally very simple and easy to learn, and demand a certain cunning and skillful coordination. According to Douglas, a good folk game makes the players feel extremely competent (or able to gain mastery over the game), while being extremely entertaining to watch. One game cited had blindfolded players  dueling with wooden spoons in slow motion. The popularity of the game was attributed as much to how “badass” it feels to move in slow motion as it was to watching someone move in slow motion being “really fucking hilarious”.

So folk games are fun for all involved, even if only an observer. In the blindfolded example, the spectators play an important role of mediation — bystanders must verbally discourage players who move too fast. This theatrical element immediately brings the folk game into a broader context of interaction between people. It affords a place and justification to make a fool out of one’s self among friends.

Of all the games Douglas presented in his talk, my favorite remains the only one made by Die Gute Fabrik that I’ve played: Johann Sebastian Joust. The game is reminiscent of Lemon Jousting, where players attempt to knock the lemon off their opponents’ wooden sticks while protecting their own. But JS. Joust has an extra layer too it, which is the computer. A lemon on a stick is an excellent feedback mechanism indeed — however, there is something intrinsically external about having a computer mediate. I feel it adds a great sense of fairness to the game, and less of a need to rely on “house rules”. Winning is extremely satisfying, and losing tends to make you think, “I can do better next time”, accompanied by a desire to play again.

It might seem unrelated, but I find that Bennett Foddy‘s work is extremely in tune with this sort of philosophy. In Bennett’s talk (by absolute coincidence, right before Douglas’s), he explains how he believes that the player wants to be humiliated and frustrated. He showed a video of the ending of his game GIRP, in which the player took too long to reach the prize at the end. Winner: Bird. This subversive move on Bennett’s part brings to light so many positive aspects of his game: the emotional connection made during those fateful 20 minutes. The fact that the player actually uploaded this video to YouTube, “shaming” himself in the face of the world. And the idea that when the player does finally beat the game, he will have achieved a mastery over it. Similar to folk games, Bennett’s projects are extremely simple to understand, needing little to no explanation. Finally, a collaboration between Bennett and Douglas led to Mega-GIRP, which turns regular GIRP into a single-player game of twister. This modified version is even harder than the already-hard game, and players look ridiculous playing it. This kind of spectacle sport becomes a nexus of truly social gaming among groups of people.

Early on in the conference, I had the pleasure of being involved in an unusual game jam. Many people were involved with the final product, among them Harry Lee, Stephen Lavelle, Sara G, Stephen A, Matt Thorson, and Alan Hazelden. Instead of focusing on graphics or programming, physical props were laid out and explored. Paper cups, chairs, and some dice Harry had that denoted parts of the body. The game we ended up playing was dubbed “Get it Up” (photos here!). Two players go at a time, each rolling a die. They then have to transfer a single paper cup from one pyramid to another pyramid, while only using the body part designated by the die. The group wins when the new pyramid is completely built.

Another example was the game DRINK, by Anna and Loren, which is a real-world drinking game played against a virtual opponent.

How can I summarize and/or wrap up this post?? There’s a growing feeling of moving games into a shared physical space, while taking advantage of available technology to aid the way. Let’s make more games!!!

• This year I will be attending the Game Developers Conference in San Francisco, California. All arrangements have been booked, and I will arrive a few days earlier to poke around the city and meet with family and friends. If you are into game development and want to meet up, please let me know! Especially if you want to jam. I hope to document my experiences (photos and writing), so keep an eye on this blog.
• I am currently seeking a new work situation. My CV is available in Hebrew and English — please contact me if you are interested.

== — == and now back to your regularly-scheduled programming == — ==