검색 결과

오락실에서 <닌자 거북이>를 붙들어 본 이들은 너덜너덜해진 주인공 닌자거북이를 다시 일으켜 세우는 것이 피자 한 조각이었음을 기억할 것이다. 한 대 맞을 때마다 깎여나가던 체력이 어디선가 굴러나온 피자를 밟는 순간 차오르곤 했다. 언뜻 보기에 자연스러워 보이는 이 회복 메커니즘은 그런데 조금 더 생각해보면 이상한 일인데, 게임 속 피자를 그저 밟았다고 적에게 두들겨맞아 상처입은 체력이 회복된다는 맥락은 뭔가 앞뒤가 안맞기 때문이다. < Back How Digital Games Have Handled Food, and What We Are Really Looking At on Those Screens 30 GG Vol. 26. 6. 10. Anyone who ever wrestled with Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles at the arcade will remember that what got our battered turtle hero back on his feet was a single slice of pizza. Every hit chipped away at his health, and the moment he stepped on a pizza that had rolled out from somewhere, it filled right back up. At a glance this recovery mechanic looks perfectly natural, but think about it a little longer and it turns strange: the idea that merely stepping on a slice of pizza heals the damage of a beating doesn't quite add up. In the virtual world of digital games, which runs on sight and sound alone, food—centered as it is on taste and smell—and the act of eating it seem somehow ill-fitting, and yet across the history of games they have always been present, sometimes as the lead, sometimes in a supporting role. This may be akin to the way "mukbang" content thrives in a visual medium incapable of conveying taste or aroma, but in games—a medium of process —the act of eating and the things eaten take up a larger volume still. What is the act of eating in a game? The single apple on the screen, the whole roast chicken, the lovingly set table of food—none of it actually passes the player's lips, yet each asserts its presence as a stand-in for something else. As technology thickened and genres split apart, this business of eating, rendered in digital space, developed alongside them, and above all it quietly shifted its weight from picking up what lies on the ground toward making something with one's own hands . Food You Pick Up and Fill With — The Thing That Vanishes on Contact In the earliest digital games, food simply lay somewhere on the screen, and all the player had to do was touch it. The Nibbler -type "snake games" are a prime example. As the snake crawling across the screen swallows the food laid out in dots, its body grows one segment longer—a rule that makes it intuitively clear that to eat is to accumulate . Coldly described, it is merely the visual image of a moving stick touching a differently colored dot, but through the naming of "snake" and "food," it arrives—by way of "the act of eating"—at intuitive understanding. On top of this, the rule that eating food lengthens your body by exactly that much, and that the increased length ultimately brings about game over, ties the act of eating to the fact that eating grows the body, helping us understand dot-by-dot movement as something closer to eating. * Google's free snake game. The rule of a playable character that lengthens upon colliding with an object enters the realm of "game" through the metaphor of a snake eating apples. It's worth pausing, too, on the Genesis-like motif of an apple and a snake, of all things. The way we read colliding with a dot as eating something did not stop at a snake eating its food; it expanded. Son Son , an arcade game hugely popular in Korea as well, populated its progression with various snacks as objects yielding bonus points. The method was likewise to collide the playable character with objects, but by setting those objects in more detail as food, we could now speak not of "earning points" but of "eating." By the time we reach Bubble Bobble , this approach turns the game outright into a snack party: from simple fruit, through candies that aid play, to large bonus points staged as enormous treats raining down—strongly tying the act of acquiring something in a game to food. In the belt-scroll action era of the 1990s, food takes on a different job. Around this time games began to appear that, rather than spending a chance the instant you bumped into an enemy, gradually whittled away your chances through a health gauge—the belt-scroll genre being representative. Where a health gauge exists, food and the act of eating began to take on the role of refilling depleted health. In Final Fight , smashing a roadside oil drum or telephone booth would send a roast chicken or an apple rolling out to restore the hero's health—which, thought through the same way as before, has its own rather absurd corner. The natural way to treat a hero beaten to a pulp, his health drained, isn't really to gnaw on roast chicken but to apply ointment, put on a cast, slap on a bandage. * In Final Fight, a character whose health gauge has dropped "eats" food by pressing a button beside a food object. Why smashing an oil drum should produce barbecue from within remains a mystery, but we don't think that far. The notion that eating something restores you is, if you press the point, less first aid than a far more leisurely act of nourishment and recovery. Thanks to the concept—widespread across East and West alike—that eating something makes the body healthy (the idea of food and medicine sharing a single source), we don't particularly quibble at the scene of health filling up the moment we bump into food. From the earliest days of digital games, food has been bound very tightly to the rules of the game as it took its place within virtual space. And behind this, we can see, lie the basic notions we generally hold about food. Since the rules that unfold in virtual space are, in the end, played by someone in reality, most rules cannot help but be re-creations of something familiar from reality—and the motif of food was an enormously useful piece of universal cognition for explaining rules in each given situation. The Arrival of Cooking — A Stage Inserted Before Eating Without going so far as a rigorous analysis, it seems that the role of each game's playing time was no small factor in why the food in games came to contain not finished dishes from the outset but a process of obtaining ingredients and making something—the so-called process of cooking. When we reach the age of role-playing games that stretch across tens or hundreds of hours on the back of save/load functions, and the online games that extended these quasi-permanently on a server basis, the food in games begins to be produced as the result of cooking , generating additional fun by re-creating the very process of making rather than the finished product. In The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild , the player roams the fields cooking the mushrooms, meat, and fruit they have gathered. The function of these dishes is a buff—letting you endure the cold, or raising some stat for a while—and because the game seldom directly tells you the "correct" recipe, many players who don't rely on separate guides go through a process of tossing this and that into the pot, sometimes producing an unidentifiable "dubious food." This process of learning by feel which ingredient yields which result quietly reminds us that cooking was, at its origin, knowledge built up through countless trials and errors. * A compilation of recipe guides from The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild, organizing the ingredients and effects of dishes that restore health and grant buffs. Source: the Nintendo minor gallery on DCInside. In a variety of role-playing-based games, cooking is now called a "life content" hard to leave out. Materials obtained through gathering, agriculture, and hunting in the world called "nature" become cooking within the players' "city" or community—the counterpoint to the "nature" world—contributing to the advancement of the playable character, that virtual subject. It is at this juncture that the food in games finally rises to the seat of food as medicine . Eat to grow stronger—but to gain that strength you must first raise or harvest something, then trim and build it: the two now operate together. This moment, when the food you picked up to fill yourself turns into food you raise and build, makes the player a being who is reborn as a cook , beyond mere significance as one who eats . Food You Die Without — The Re-creation of Survival and Provisions The food and cooking in games—having begun as objects you simply bump into, then come to contain the process of cooking that artificially processes the products of nature into something beneficial to life—meet yet another rule and return to the oldest question food and cooking ever posed: eat or die. In fact, the core rule of every game that houses the survival genre touches on the problem of eating. "Eat or you die" may be, from the very start, another name for survival itself. The player dropped into the Amazon jungle in Green Hell won't make it by watching a single hunger gauge. You have to tend separately to four branches of nutrition—carbohydrates, protein, fat, and even hydration—and eating nothing but meat scrapes the carbohydrate bar to the bottom. Bolt down raw meat and parasites latch on, sanity drains away, and the moment that balance collapses, the body buckles into hallucination and illness. The Long Dark , in which you wander the snow-covered Canadian wilds, is much the same. Each foodstuff carries a freshness rating, so carelessly putting spoiled or raw meat in your mouth means bracing for food poisoning, and cooking over fire is presented as the most basic survival skill for lowering that risk. In games like these, cooking is not some option for stats but a desperate bit of handiwork that tames the dangers lurking in raw things, turning them into something barely edible. This gains more weight once we enter the realm of management simulation, which presupposes the survival not of the individual player but of a society, a collective. In Banished or the Anno series, food is understood under the name of provisions . Provisions—pointing to the sustenance a large social collective needs to keep life going—become a more social concept, and here too the concept of cooking still operates. In many games that take Western provisions as their motif, the process of cultivating and harvesting wheat, turning it into flour, and baking that into bread is invariably depicted. The lump of meat that once stopped at simply resolving hunger is reborn as cuisine with the addition of spices, producing buffs like mood or happiness. Its significance as a buff, woven together with the foundational premise of "eat or die," steers the game's atmosphere in a complex way toward both positive and negative directions—and in effect, in these games provisions and cooking function as the game's central skeleton. If the games of the earlier stages depicted food as something pretty and plentiful, then by the time we reach survival games food returns to being a condition of life measured against the ticking second. And yet this isn't a mere return to the starting point. The provisions that come back—having passed from food you picked up, through food you built—now also bear the fact that, just as humans have always done, they become safe provisions only after the process of being cooked, stored away, and dressed. To Understand Food Through Games Food that once needed only to be touched reinforced its meaning as recovery and nourishment that fills a depleted body; became food you fetch the ingredients for and make with your own hands; and then appeared as both an essential good you cannot survive without eating and a social resource. On one level, this current resembles the path along which human civilization has dealt with its food. The path from prey snatched up at random, to provisions stored and stockpiled, to food once again cooked and set out, is repeated once more in similar flow within digital space. The insight that Lévi-Strauss organized as the opposition of the raw and the cooked—that the act of cooking is the mark unique to humans by which nature is turned into culture—is, it turns out, being repeated yet again within the developmental history of digital games. The way Lévi-Strauss draws culture out of food will be a familiar current even to those who have grown used to meeting the food and cooking re-created within games. For the very word "food" already carries, beyond the satisfaction of a biological instinct, the layered thickness of culture piled up tier upon tier. Just as the cathedral called the savior's flesh and blood bread and wine, just as a rite offered to heaven and earth invariably contained the process of setting out "devoted" food, food and cooking are not mere sustenance but the long sediment of culture heaped upon it. And the food and cooking re-created in digital games likewise go on accumulating new meaning in the same vein. In World of Warcraft , food—which, unlike the instant-effect potions, worked in the sense of slow recovery and buffs—was upgraded from individual dishes to a full table setting, taking on the form of a rite where the whole raid party gathers before a raid; and the fictional dishes drawn with the inventive imagination of virtual space have even invaded reality the other way around, giving rise to new recipes. To call it a mere digital lump—tasteless, scentless, "food" in name only—is to flatten what is, in truth, anything but flat: the relationships that pass between people through that digital lump. Living in this world is, all of it, a matter of eating. I sometimes joke that Kingdom of Animals , the documentary so often aired to fill time on television, is also a mukbang. My apologies to the Thomson's gazelle running for its life, but from the standpoint of this documentary's protagonists—the lions and hyenas—this is unmistakably a story about eating. The story of eating settled, beyond biological need, into a sociocultural rite, and we, carrying the new meanings born that way into digital games, once again experience another kind of meaning laid out on the table. These meanings that the designer drew are born anew, once more, as new meaning from the players seated at the table. Just as the story of eating did not stay a story of eating, the story of eating drawn within games, too, seems by no means to stay a story of eating. Tags: 글이 맘에 드셨다면 공유해보세요. Facebook X (Twitter) Copy link Previous Next KyungHyuk Lee Game critic and researcher. Since 2015, he has made games his life's work—as a critic, examining how games relate to society, and as a researcher, exploring how games, as commodities, take their place within it. He is the author of Mario, Born in '81 (2017) and The Birth of In-Game Spending (2022), among other works, and has contributed to documentaries including EBS's Docuprime as well as columns across various outlets. He received his PhD from the Graduate School of Communication at Yonsei University for his research analyzing digital games as time-rights commodities. He is the director of the game research lab Dragon Lab and serves as editor-in-chief of Game Generation.

2024년 10월 GG 20호는 제3회 게임비평공모전 특집호로 꾸몄습니다. GG는 처음 창간하면서부터 연 1회 게임비평공모전을 여는 것을 주 업무로 삼았고, 다행히 한 해도 쉬지 않고 성공적으로 공모전을 마무리할 수 있었습니다. < Back 20 GG Vol. 24. 10. 10. Tags: 글이 맘에 드셨다면 공유해보세요. Facebook X (Twitter) Copy link Previous Next KyungHyuk Lee Game critic and researcher. Since 2015, he has made games his life's work—as a critic, examining how games relate to society, and as a researcher, exploring how games, as commodities, take their place within it. He is the author of Mario, Born in '81 (2017) and The Birth of In-Game Spending (2022), among other works, and has contributed to documentaries including EBS's Docuprime as well as columns across various outlets. He received his PhD from the Graduate School of Communication at Yonsei University for his research analyzing digital games as time-rights commodities. He is the director of the game research lab Dragon Lab and serves as editor-in-chief of Game Generation.

기라성 같은 게임이 대단히 많았기에 게임 업계 종사자들은 으레 올해를 풍년이라고 부르곤 했다. 올해는 한국에서도 과 <데이브 더 다이버>가 '쌍백만' 판매량을 기록하면서 새로운 희망을 보여줬다. 대한민국 게임대상을 두고 두 게임이 경쟁했던 일화는 훗날에도 오래 기억될 만하다. 한국뿐 아니라 세계적으로  '올해의 게임을 고르기 어렵다'라는 이야기가 나왔던 2023년.  리듬+액션 게임 <하이파이 러쉬>(Hi-Fi Rush) 또한 빠져서는 안 될 수작이다. < Back 15 GG Vol. 23. 12. 10. Tags: 글이 맘에 드셨다면 공유해보세요. Facebook X (Twitter) Copy link Previous Next Jaeseok Kim Worked for eight years as a reporter at ThisIsGame. Now handles external relations at a subculture startup. Loves editors and the power of cheat codes.

Since 2020, customers buying a new iPhone no longer have a charger included in the box. According to Apple, this omission was aimed at reducing packaging waste as well as e-waste. The company explained that this move means it has to consume fewer raw materials for each iPhone sold, and it also allows for a smaller retail box, which means 70 percent more units can fit on a single shipping pallet, thereby reducing carbon emissions (Calma, 2020). < Back 22 GG Vol. 25. 2. 10. Tags: 글이 맘에 드셨다면 공유해보세요. Facebook X (Twitter) Copy link Previous Next

카메라 앞에 선 애플의 스티브 잡스가 청바지 주머니에서 아이폰을 꺼내든 것이 2007년의 일이다. 사람들 주머니에 통화도 되고, MP3 플레이어도 되고, 동영상 재생기도 되는 스마트폰이 담기기까지 채 10년이 걸리지 않았다. 그리고 유저들은 ‘그 작은 기계로 무슨 게임이냐’라는 우려를 비웃기라도 하듯 스마트폰으로 게임을 즐기고 있다. < Back 04 GG Vol. 22. 2. 10. Tags: 글이 맘에 드셨다면 공유해보세요. Facebook X (Twitter) Copy link Previous Next Jaeseok Kim Worked for eight years as a reporter at ThisIsGame. Now handles external relations at a subculture startup. Loves editors and the power of cheat codes.

2021년은 한국 mmorpg 게이머들에게 대량이주의 해로 기록될 것이다. <메이플 스토리>나 <마비노기>의 경우, 아이템을 강화하는 세공도구 같은 유료아이템의 불투명한 확률 매커니즘이 문제였다. 랜덤이라고 표기되었지만 실은 옵션별 숨어있는 차등확률을 통해 랜덤확률에도 못미치는 효과를 보거나, 응당 적용되어야 할 옵션이 오류로 적용되지 않아 수년동안 0%의 확률로 실패한 뽑기를 유발한 것이 문제였다. < Back 01 GG Vol. 21. 6. 10. Tags: 글이 맘에 드셨다면 공유해보세요. Facebook X (Twitter) Copy link Previous Next Youngjin Oh Since 2015, has developed the Hanyang University ERICA course "Software and Humanistic Criticism" and served as organizer of "Machine Criticism." Researches the aesthetics and politics of digital culture as represented by computer games, webtoons, and social networks. Co-developed Under the Sunlight (2018), a web-responsive interactive story about Syrian refugees. Directed Erangel: Dark Tour (March 20–21, 2021), a work of dark tourism for experiencing the sites of tragic events in a virtual world, and The Endless Voyage (June 2021), a metaverse project tied to the academic conference "SF and Geopolitical Aesthetics."

< Back GG Vol. Tags: 글이 맘에 드셨다면 공유해보세요. Facebook X (Twitter) Copy link Previous Next (덕질인) 홍성갑 프리랜서 작가. 이 직업명은 ‘무직’의 동의어가 아닌가 의심하고 있다. 딴지일보에서 기자를 시작하여 국정원 댓글 조작을 최초로 보도했다. 평생 게이머로서 살면서, 2001년에 처음 게임 비평을 썼고 현재 유실된 것을 매우 기뻐하고 있다.

In March 2024, the South Korean regional chapter of the Digital Games Research Association (DiGRA) was established. DiGRA is one of the world's largest international associations for academics and professionals who research digital games and associated phenomena. Its Korean chapter, named “DiGRA-K”, is now the latest new regional hub followed by the ones in Europe, Asia, and North and South America. DiGRA-K aims to promote an interdisciplinary approach to game research, strengthen connections with industry and academia, and support the next generation through international collaborations. Notably, DiGRA-K aims to overcome the gap between academic disciplines in Korea when it comes to research games, while seeking to encompass both industry practitioners and academia. < Back [Interview] A journey towards the next step of Korean game research, Prof. Tae-jin Yoon, the president of DiGRA-K 26 GG Vol. 25. 10. 10. In March 2024, the South Korean regional chapter of the Digital Games Research Association (DiGRA) was established. DiGRA is one of the world's largest international associations for academics and professionals who research digital games and associated phenomena. Its Korean chapter, named “DiGRA-K”, is now the latest new regional hub followed by the ones in Europe, Asia, and North and South America. DiGRA-K aims to promote an interdisciplinary approach to game research, strengthen connections with industry and academia, and support the next generation through international collaborations. Notably, DiGRA-K aims to overcome the gap between academic disciplines in Korea when it comes to research games, while seeking to encompass both industry practitioners and academia. In this issue of GG, we had the opportunity to speak with Professor Yoon Tae-jin from Yonsei University, the co-founder and first president of DiGRA-K, to discuss their organisation’s core goals, key projects, and a critical assessment of Korean game culture. Kang: Shin-kyu Kang, editor of GG Yoon: Tae-jin Yoon, president of DiGRA-K Kang: Thank you for taking part in this Game Generation interview. Since many of our readers are engaged in critical writing, it would be especially helpful if you could share, not only your own perspective on the development of game research in Korea, but also some of the initiatives that DiGRA-K is pursuing to enhance our understanding of games as both cultural and industrial phenomenon. First of all, could you share with us how you became a founding member of DiGRA-K? And perhaps your vision when you took on the role as its first president? Yoon: Frankly speaking, being a procrastinator myself, I’ve never been the type of person to actively volunteer for major organisational roles. But with the case of the DiGRA-K in particular, somehow, I felt different. I’ve been considered that, compared to other academic disciplines, game research in Korea lack academic initiatives. Our situation is so dire, like a plain field with a vast open empty space. Our initial aim was that we should build at least a small hut—a small step at a time, and start populating that open space. Fortunately there were many who were eager to help out. Then what it turns out was that most of our founding members are still juniors in terms of their academic career, which made me suddenly the most senior members in the group. From there, I realized that it was my job to help this community to establish their first milestone. I thought “All I need to do is dig a little ground to settle the hut.” That was the mindset when I stepped in as the president of DiGRA-K. Kang: I’m curious why you chose to register an academic association instead of other forms of social group for researchers. And from there, more specifically, why did you decide to form a Korean regional hub of DiGRA, rather than starting a completely new one from the scratch? Yoon: That’s a bit of a chicken-or-egg question. At the time, while I was thinking about the necessity of academic initiatives for game researchers in Korea, international scholars from DiGRA approached me with an idea: how about settling DiGRA in Korea? As you might already know, Korea is a country with well-established video game industry and gaming culture. And not only with industrial maturity, but also when it comes to gaming policies. And yet, while DiGRA already had chapters in 16 countries there’s none in Korea and very few Korean scholars ever participated in their conferences. So I guess from the DiGRA’s perspective, they wanted Korea would take a more active role in advancing game research discipline. So they approached us and asked if we would be interested in establishing a Korean regional chapter, while also suggested hosting a regular DiGRA conference in Korea. That became our starting point. Kang: There are already a few game-related academic associations in Korea, and some that were established just recently as well. So, compared with these existing organisations, how did you envision DiGRA-K’s unique position? Yoon: I had attended some of the existing associations in the past. But I felt that their academic approaches were different from what I had envisioned about game research. So I never felt compelled to take an active role there. For instance, organisations that primarily focus on computer research or policy analysis felt very specialised and perhaps too specific, and distinct from my academic framework on games and game culture. That was one of the first reasons why I thought we needed a new game research community, DiGRA-K. Of course, I consulted with colleagues who were active in those other organisations, doing research on games in other disciplines. And matter in fact, some of them eventually became advisors to DiGRA-K. Kang: I also had a similar impression that many of the existing game-related organisations in Korea tend to be oriented toward business or engineering related academic disciplines, somewhat distant for game researchers. They are also quite specific and narrow in the sense that we would need a more inclusive venue to accommodate this multidisciplinary field of games. In contrary, in the case of DiGRA-K, some might argue that its founding board members are lean too much on media and cultural studies background. What’s your thought on this view? Yoon: I believe the academic orientation of an ‘association’ will naturally take shape over time. Even if you try to set a specific direction from the beginning, it rarely stays the same along the course. When we founded DiGRA-K, I had two seemingly contradictory thoughts: On one hand, I thought it might be impactful to build a specialised association that narrowly accommodate game cultural studies, in the same way that some of the other associations focus on other game-related topics like law, policy, or engineering. On the other hand, because we are also a local chapter of DiGRA, which hosts international academic conferences while actively seeking collaboration with the game industry, I concerned the inclusivity of the topic would limit the venue’s true potential. So basically, it was about whether to build a group with a deep-focused unique identity or instead taking a more of a generalist approach. But then when I supervise my students, I often use the term “funnel”. As in, you may start with a broad topic in the beginning, but gradually narrow down until you reach your own unique contribution to the academic field. We realized that we see the future pathway of DiGRA-K in the same manner. At this early stage, I believe we should maintain a broad and inclusive scope so that the venue is open to game researchers from various disciplines like programming, design, development, marketing, and beyond. But that doesn’t mean we aim to cover absolutely everything about games. Gradually, the areas where we have greater expertise or a stronger interest will emerge and thus clarifies the identity of DiGRA-K eventually. But for now, I want to maintain a sense of openness and flexibility of our organisation. Kang: I’ve also had the impression recently that academic associations don’t really change much regardless of who becomes their leader. But as you said, if the organisation can broadly encompass a diverse range of people at the top – top of the “funnel” per se, and then gradually narrows down collectively by its members, then perhaps it could strike a balance between broadness and specificity. I can see where you’re visioning and personally also agree with that direction. Then, since its establishment in March 2024, DiGRA-K has been actively holding events and projects. Could you tell us more on those, and perhaps the one that you personally feel accomplished the most? Yoon: From the very beginning, our founding members’ primary agenda was to do a foundational work for DiGRA-K. And there were two things I emphasised in doing that. One is to foster international academic exchange and facilitate an environment to nurture the next generation of game scholars. Secondly, I also wanted to ensure that DiGRA-K remained connected to the game development scene, constantly attempting to share knowledge and information with the game practitioners. International collaboration is at heart of our organisation’s goal, as one of the regional chapter of the worldwide DiGRA network. But one of the concerns that I have in mind about the Korean academic scene is that the concept of “international collaboration (knowledge exchange)” is often misrepresented and very one-sided. For instance, Korean universities or associations tend to spend a lot of money to host a foreign scholar’s visit, to hear what these foreigners have to say, and then make a big fuss about it in the press. Honestly, the game development scene is no exception to these odd interpretations of “international collaboration”. What I would like to see is a more natural flow of knowledge sharing and exchange of insights. There are many people coming to Korea of their own will, either as tourists, international students, or researchers. Some researchers wish to come here as visiting scholars so they can do research in Korea. I want DiGRA-K to welcome as many of these willing individuals as possible. So that they are not excluded from the local community of scholars here in Korea, and to engaged in continuous efforts together, instead of situated as others. The recent two international talks we organised through DiGRA-K were meant for that exact idea. It was organised in a way that Korean students, industry professionals, and researchers would feel like visiting scholars from abroad is not just here to give a one-sided talk but should be welcomed and engaged in long-term discussion. So in a way, intercultural knowledge exchange in a natural and welcoming atmosphere. In terms of nurturing the next generation of game scholars, I guess that’s a shared concern in every academic fields. But especially in game research, due to its short-history and still fragile ground of games in conventional academic landscape, I’ve seen many young game scholars eventually departure from this field of research. For example, sociologists or psychologists who begin by studying games often shift to other topics to seek research jobs or to align with funding requirements. To prevent this, I want DiGRA-K to become a communal space that can accommodate researchers of all levels interested in games, sending young scholars a message that there are people and a community who will continue to care about their work. Kang: I get the impression that, for you, both international collaboration and nurturing younger scholars are not about creating something grand but more about laying a foundation to build a natural and inclusive atmosphere of co-learning. I also think this issue applies not only to early-career researchers but to established senior scholars as well. For example, there were a number of Korean media researchers who studied games in the early 2000s, but you may be the only one in Korea that still actively doing media studies on games to this date. Ensuring the long-lasting space for game research, therefore, appears to be a challenging task – junior or senior alike. Then let me turn the question towards you. You started your academic career researching Korean popular culture, coming from television studies, before shifting your attention to games. Then where do you position yourself as a researcher? Yoon: I regard myself as a popular culture researcher. For instance, one might have read far fewer webcomics than younger people, but still can research webcomics. One who can’t immediately guess all those names of popular K-pop groups still can do research on K-pop phenomenon. By that same logic, I study games, but I don’t necessarily consider myself a researcher who is solely devoted to researching games. My research was heavily focused on games up until about 2010. After that, I spent several years researching the Korean Wave (hallyu). Since 2017–2018, I’ve returned to conducting more game research. As I’m about to retire in about ten years, I think at this state, my final years of academic career are likely to be devoted on game culture studies. So in that perspective, I see perhaps the title of “born-as” game researcher will become more common in the next generation. Kang: Hearing you say that makes me wonder, who really counts as a “game researcher”? And what does it mean to be one? This might be something readers of GG are curious about as well. For instance, I sometimes feel that when I teach game-related courses at university. At some point I wish I could proudly say things like, “I play (this game) better than you,” to the students, so they can appreciate my expertise in teaching games. Because in gaming, people tend to think that “no one can talk about games better than the person who plays it best.” In which, creates sort of skepticism among gamers toward game researchers. In light of that, what is your message towards gamers on behalf of game researchers? Yoon: I think that’s a very common dilemma among game researchers. I don’t think game researchers should try pretending that they are also good at playing games, or to confront to answer that question at all, just for the sake of justifying their legitimacy of doing research. The most common way to answer that question long has been, phrases like, “Just because you like games and play them well doesn’t make you a good scholar!” or “I may not be good at games, but I’ve had extensive scholarly training!” Unfortunately, I don’t think that would convince anyone at this state of time. I personally identify myself as a game researcher, as a kind of television (studies) researcher from the 1970s. Back when I was in university in the 1980s, many lecturers and professors taught their students about television and media despite they didn’t know much about how the television industry works. Some hardly even watched TVs. But were their research and lectures meaningless? They did. Their most significant contribution is that they seeded the idea that “we can research television. It is a legitimate object for scientific research”. That very idea is how they managed to train their students, who later in turn produced further advanced knowledge on television. So in a sense, I agree with Henry Jenkins—ultimately, it’s better when fans become scholars rather than scholars trying to become fans. That’s perhaps a more sustainable direction for the discipline. For me, personally, I think I’m too senior to start going that path. So when such questions about my gaming skill arise, I respond by saying: “You, the players, have much more potential to become a game researcher than I do. My job is to build a pathway for you.” I think of research organisation like DiGRA-K are, again, a ‘small hut’ in the plain field where, when the day comes that these young gamers can go and claim their ownership for it. And by that point, I believe the community of game researchers will mature academically in ways we can’t yet imagine. Kang: There are also various collaborations between an academically established senior scholar and young gamers with an insightful mindset. In that sense, as a supervisor, do you enjoy interacting and co-working with students who genuinely love game? If so, did those engagements with students also provides you inspiration for future research in return? Yoon: Absolutely. This might sound cliché, but I genuinely learn far more from my students. I often get bored when I have to approach my students’ papers simply as an instructor. Whereas I think about 70% of what I learn these days comes from reading my students’ dissertations and papers. When I come across something interesting in their work, I go on to explore it further myself. That’s how I learn these days, and how I’ve been conducting research alongside my students. Kang: Then what role can game research play for gamers? While DiGRA-K is currently aiming to foster dialogue between academia and industry, I feel that engaging with gamers could be something that should be achieved in the long run. If so, how can game researchers communicate meaningful dialogue with gamers? Yoon: That question reminds me of Korea’s long vibrant history of Korean film fandom. There were many cinephiles (i.e., people who are fond of cinema), and some of them went on to become film directors, producers, or even studied abroad to become scholars. If the Korean film research scene had been more developed at the time, they might have been able to accommodate those passionate individuals to also become scholars. And perhaps that could have flourished the Korean film scene yet again, with energy and innovative thinking of cinephiles to bridge the gap between film academia, industry, and various other related fields. I think a similar process is possible with games. Of course, the scale and characteristics of Korean game scenes and film scenes are different. But there are already people doing similar things for games. For example, I think the “GG Game Critic Award” is an excellent example as a venue for networking and knowledge exchange between game enthusiasts and game critics. It provides people with a message that anyone can provide and learn about new insights and perspectives on games, or get to learn about other countries’ game discourse, and etc, even if you’re not a trained game researcher. As long as you love games and have a good idea, then anyone could join the discourse. Such openness and accumulated energy will eventually synergy together to flourish both the game industry and game research discipline. Kang: I sometimes feel that while it’s beneficial for those studying popular culture or film to naturally extend their work into games. But it also raises the question of the specificity of researching “games” – the unique elements that only apply to games. You’ve already described what you envision about DiGRA-K. But then, how could DiGRA-K contribute, and game research as a whole, to move forward in the absence of distinctly game-specific theories or methodologies? If anyone trained in popular culture studies can analyse games as a research object, then what is game research? Have you thought about this? Yoon: I see things a bit differently. I’m not hinged on the idea that game research needs to establish a fully independent academic identity, and I also disagree that one research discipline must acquire distinct theories or methodologies to achieve its ground. Take qualitative research as an example. Every discipline has its own version of qualitative methods, but in practice, the differences primarily lie in research topics and interest. So I see the drive to create discipline-specific methods as more of a compulsion, per se, than a necessity. When we founded DiGRA-K, it was to initiate an academic venue. More of an institutional purpose. We didn’t find DiGRA-K to segregate game research as a stand-alone discipline away from other academic groups like in sociology or media studies. In fact, I think it’s perfectly okay if people see our organisation as a place to drop by to see about game research. It’s fine even if they are not solely devoted for this particular research discipline. For the same reason, we welcome amateur critics or industry practitioners to our organisation. They can come as they will and leave also as they will. They could contribute to our community for a while and then always can move on. A sort of natural flow of knowledge exchange. Besides, I think the very definition of “games” is becoming blurred. Take a look at various media phenomena around us these days, like short-form video, the metaverse, virtual reality, and augmented reality and so forth. Some might argue that this is precisely why we must quickly solidify the ontological definition of games and thus the identity of game research as stand-alone discipline and institutionalise it, and lay down a strong footstep. On the other hand, some might counter argue that we should deliberately keep the game research scene fluid and inclusive, enabling a wide range of topics to be explored under its umbrella, and in turn, letting game research contribute outward to other areas as well. I lean overwhelmingly toward this second opinion. Kang: Let me ask a bit more about the direction of DiGRA-K. Do you see ways in which the association could engage practically more or even intervene in societal issues surrounding the game industry and its culture? For instance, the interpretation and implementation of the WHO’s gaming disorder classification? Yoon: Let me answer this question in two parts. First, I don’t think it’s appropriate for the academic association itself to assert a rigid position on such contentious issues. In my view, the role of an academic group is to create a space where people with diverse views can come together and discuss. Whether it’s about supporting or opposing the classification of gaming disorder, or how to regulate loot boxes…I don’t see the compelling reasons why association like DiGRA-K would have to decide which side they are in – one side or the other. However, I do think we need to be agile in responding to specific issues. For example, we are already planning a seminar early next year, specifically on the issue of the WHO’s gaming disorder manual. The seminar is about exploring international cases and see how it is being codified into law or institutional actions, and what the potential problems are. Our aim here is to approach the issue openly in a way that could open up a new perspective of seeing things – to start a dialogue. In short, I oppose steering the association to a specific direction, either towards an overtly industry-friendly or policy-driven manner. I also consider that our organisation must be clear about that. But if there are particularly important issues related to the game industry, political discourse, society, or international relations, then yes, I do believe we should quickly act and create a space for experts to come together and discuss. Kang: Good point. I hope your vision on DiGRA-K could reach to more people out there, so that people from various fields and disciplines can freely come and engage to research games. Yoon: Since this interview will be published to online readers of GG, I would also like to point out one additional thing although this might sound a bit of a sidetrack. I don’t know how many GG readers are game scholars or students, or amateur critics or gamers who love games and want to read articles about them. It is unfortunate that these days, many people tend to make a kind of “political judgment” whenever a new organisation is established, when a book is published, or a game-related event happens. And by “political”, it’s no longer conventional political discourse on left vs. right. More so, we’re seeing more and more cynical and polarised responses on every spectrum, such as “Oh, DiGRA-K. This is probably a pro-game industry organisation trying to make money,” or “That person’s a feminist, so articles from this person would be full of shit,” or “This book is obviously written with some hidden message” etc etc. We saw some of those reactions to articles at the GG Game Critic Award, in which readers were dismissing some of the submissions claiming that they are “wrong.” Perhaps, compared to other fields of popular culture, such as television or K-pop, reactions toward games are often more skeptical and cynical, with hardly ever a positive response. It can be challenging to find supportive or forward-thinking attitudes in the gaming world these days. I do hope this culture will shift eventually. I know it won’t disappear entirely, and what we can hope for is to reduce the severity of its toxicity at most as it is coming from a larger gamer discourse worldwide not just in Korea. But I still want to say out loud here that we, who love games, should eventually have to move on from normalized habitual negativity. And perhaps start asking ourselves, “what can (we) contribute to make the game scene better?” Of course, game companies have made mistakes and wronged people. But ultimately, the industry also needs to exist and thrive so that ones can continue to make games that we love. Despite I myself have little interest in game business, policy, or management, I still know in my heart that it would be devastating if the gaming scene were to collapse. The same goes for academia. People often react cynically towards academia, with comments like, “Oh, professors just published yet another book on whatever by making their students to write something.” But I still believe there is always something that can be seen and told positively if one looks for it. Kang: We’ve covered a lot today. Thank you for providing valuable insight. And this is going to be the last question for today. Which, a question from editor-in-chief, who insisted that we should ask this question to you: As president of DiGRA-K, what’s your favorite game? Yoon: Well, for some reason, I can’t really play games where I have to clash with strangers online. It’s just my personal preference, not wanting to show others how bad I am at games (laughs). So I tend to stick to games without Internet connections, like console games or single-play mobile games, which I can play by myself. And since I usually play games as a short break from work, I prefer ones that end quickly. Arcade games, for example. I also often play simple crosswords or match-3 puzzles. The game I’ve played the longest in my life is actually , which I played when I was young while studying abroad. At that time, I wasn’t good at speaking their local language so got bored and lonely. So I played games to overcome that boredom. I eventually became quite good at it, to the point that when I walk into the arcade shop, people would step aside to give me more space. I also played and with my kids. More recently, I’ve tried games like and , partially because everyone else around me was playing those games – more like social obligation rather than my personal interest in that game per se. Although I actually quite enjoyed . So I also try out games that seem worth trying out, even if that wouldn’t fit my personal preference. And I guess that’s about it. Tags: 글이 맘에 드셨다면 공유해보세요. Facebook X (Twitter) Copy link Previous Next (문화연구자) 김지수 문화와 지식, 공간과 학술 장 등 다양한 영역을 공부합니다. 게임의 역사와 게이머의 생활에도 관심을 가지고 있습니다. (Doctoral researcher at Aalto University, Finland) Solip Park Born and raised in Korea and now in Finland, Solip’s current research interest focused on immigrant and expatriates in the video game industry and game development cultures around the world. She is also the author and artist of "Game Expats Story" comic series. www.parksolip.com

다만 이러한 현실 추수적인 시각을 바탕으로 BM을 긍정해 나가면서 한국 게임 시장은 더욱 노골적으로 메타버스, P2E, NFT 등 현행 법률로 합법화되기 어려운 영역까지 허용해 달라고 당국에 요청하기에 이르렀다. 특히 최근의 게임 회사들은 플레이의 외부적 요소로 취급되던 현금과 결제, 캐릭터의 성장 요소를 더욱 외재화하여 환금성을 부추기게 된다면, 이는 한국 게임업계가 그동안 트라우마로 안고 있었던 “바다 이야기” 사태로 다시 돌아갈지도 모른다는 우려가 나온다. < Back 06 GG Vol. 22. 6. 10. Tags: 글이 맘에 드셨다면 공유해보세요. Facebook X (Twitter) Copy link Previous Next Jeong Yeop Lee Professor in the Department of Culture & Contents at Soonchunhyang University. Researches game storytelling and game design as central concerns, and led the founding of the Busan Indie Connect Festival—a leading indie game festival—where serves as head of the jury. Also a juror for the Independent Games Festival (IGF), one of the most prestigious indie game events internationally. Books include Digital Storytelling (co-authored, 2003), Digital Games: A New Territory of Imagination (2005), Indie Games (2015), Stories Become Transformers (co-authored, 2015), Mario, Born in '81 (co-authored, 2017), The Theory of Games (co-authored, 2019), and Games Are Games: Game × Ecosystem (co-authored, 2021).

1993년 [시스템 쇼크]라는 비디오 게임이 발매되었다. 호러 성향의 던전 크롤러와 FPS 액션 간의 결합한 이 게임은 여러 지점에서 게임 서사 전달 방식에 새로운 가능성을 개척했다. 바로 ‘오디오 로그’ 칭하는 음성 기록물이었다. 비디오 게임에 등장하는 오디오 로그는 기본적으로 필드 내 아이템으로 배치되어 있다. 오디오 로그가 있는 장소에서 일어났던 사건을 실시간으로 기록하고, 이전에 있었던 사건을 회고하는 내용들로 이뤄져 있다. 플레이어가 오디오 로그를 읽기 시작하면 화면 좌측 아래엔 오디오 로그를 남긴 주인의 이미지가 뜨고, 중앙 아래에는 내용 텍스트가 뜬다. 스피커에서는 주인이 내용을 낭독하는 음성이 흘러나온다. < Back 13 GG Vol. 23. 8. 10. Tags: 글이 맘에 드셨다면 공유해보세요. Facebook X (Twitter) Copy link Previous Next Yihwan Lee After completing the Master of Fine Arts in Cinema Studies at the School of Film, TV & Multimedia, Korea National University of Arts, currently contributes film and game criticism. Loves adventure games. (antistar23@gmail.com )

<심 어스>라는 게임에서 플레이어는 특정 생물군을 지능을 가진 사회적 군집체로 진화시킬 수 있는데, 이들이 기술발전만 급격하게 이루고 철학과 윤리 발전이 늦어지면 결국 핵전쟁으로 멸망하는 경우를 만날 수 있습니다. 전쟁까지는 아니지만, 우리는 커뮤니케이션 기술의 발달이 가져온 사회에서 댓글로 사람이 죽는 시대를 목도하고 있습니다. < Back 14 GG Vol. 23. 10. 10. Tags: 글이 맘에 드셨다면 공유해보세요. Facebook X (Twitter) Copy link Previous Next KyungHyuk Lee Game critic and researcher. Since 2015, he has made games his life's work—as a critic, examining how games relate to society, and as a researcher, exploring how games, as commodities, take their place within it. He is the author of Mario, Born in '81 (2017) and The Birth of In-Game Spending (2022), among other works, and has contributed to documentaries including EBS's Docuprime as well as columns across various outlets. He received his PhD from the Graduate School of Communication at Yonsei University for his research analyzing digital games as time-rights commodities. He is the director of the game research lab Dragon Lab and serves as editor-in-chief of Game Generation.

게임을 시작하는 순간 우리는 모험가가 된다. 평범한 일상을 벗어난 주인공이 되어 새로운 세계를 탐험하고 숨겨진 비밀을 파헤쳐 나가며 때로는 자신 안의 영웅적 면모를 깨워 세상을 구하기도 한다. 플레이어는 게임 속 세계 곳곳에 산재된 난제를 해결하는 모든 여정에 기꺼이 뛰어들며 게임을, 모험을 이어왔다. 게임과 모험은 그 궤적을 함께하며 게임을 경험하는 친숙한 방법론을 구축해왔다. 게임의 역사 자체가 일종의 모험기처럼 계속해서 쓰여지는 것처럼도 보인다. 이 글은 ‘게임’이라는 오래된 모험기를 다른 방향에서 펼쳐 본다. 거꾸로 펼친 모험기는 모험의 바깥에서 주인공의 모험이 무사히 끝나기만을 기다렸던 여인들의 이야기에서 시작된다. . < Back 02 GG Vol. 21. 8. 10. Tags: 글이 맘에 드셨다면 공유해보세요. Facebook X (Twitter) Copy link Previous Next Dasom Seo Studied curatorial studies and art history. Now and then curates exhibitions or writes, and mostly plays games. A member of "Mods," a game club for curators.