Video Games Inspire Violence in Little Girls

The Newtown shooting, a national tragedy, is the stuff of nightmares for anyone but especially for parents with young children. We send our children off to school every day because that's what expected of us, and we hope that, in return, they learn to be productive members of society. It didn't take the media long, of course, to blame video games for the violence. Of course it was video games!! 

Let me share with you our own experiences with video game induced violence. We had a beautiful day of snow over Winter Break. On the first day, we just played. On the second day, we went sledding. It was amazing! We loved zipping down the perfect hill and crashing into various things. We vowed to do it again the next day as the sun went down. On the third day of snow, the temperature went above freezing, and the sledding on slush does not produce the same epic results as sledding on soft powder.

Both my little girls and I play video games, so of course, we resorted to violence. EPIC VIOLENCE. We invaded my parents' backyard with an army. Our anger had to go somewhere, right?

That's right. We built an army, and we made sure that they were armed with dangerous weapons a la Plants vs. Zombies. I'm telling you that our hours of playing PvZ drove us our great rage to new extremes. How dare the snow melt before we were ready?! We had to strike back at the world.

Our army moved relentlessly towards the stairs. They brought fear with them. This particular guy was totally inspired by hours of killing gems in a most brutal manner in Bejeweled and aggressively creating cakes in My Little Pony: Pinkie Pie's Party Parade. My girls have been inundated at a young age with this kind of stuff.   It's no wonder they're acting out with this army. 

The coup de grace is our headless snowman. It's all the Pokemon games we've been playing. I don't think it could possibly have anything to do with their curiosity about the guillotines used in the French Revolution as I was telling them the story of the Scarlet Pimpernel and discussing Les Miserable with them. That's classic literature, so seriously, it's either Pokemon or Spore that must be to blame. I haven't decided which yet, so we'll just say it was both.

Despite the fact that my ten-year-old spent the whole time talking about how this was just like Calvin and Hobbes the entire time we were building our snow army, I'm convinced that it was video games that inspired such violence in them. I should say that my mother is a culprit, too, since she provided the flowers that were used as "guns". I'm pretty sure that their reference to plasma rays must have come from overhearing something from Mass Effect and probably has nothing to do with Stitch shooting up Lilo's house from Disney's Lilo and Stitch.

And ultimately, I would like to remind everyone that this violence must be the fault of video games, and of course, I can't be held responsible, being their mother and all. After all, it's really not my responsibility to take them outside, to play with them, to engage them in new ideas and introduce them to art in all its forms. It's really just those darn video games.

Parenting and Video Games

One of the areas where I get the most questions from my fellow parents is how much I let our girls play video games. My answer is always, "Quite a bit."

I mean, that's natural right? My girls help us test our games, and we always try to put an educational bent of some sort in all of our games whether it be pattern recognition games, basic economic games, or language games and puzzles. That's the point, though. The games that I allow my girls to play always have some component designed to teach them one lesson or another or to give them a creative outlet that I feel that they need. Ultimately, I can't answer this question for them and have them apply it to their children. If I've learned nothing else in my life, it's that children start being individuals very, very soon after they're born. Things that work for one child may be completely detrimental to another child.

Here's my very simple determination of how much video game time my child gets, and I also added my standards for my own kids.

1) How are his or her grades?

My kids have to have phenomenal grades for me to allow a lot of gaming. Thankfully, they do, and they understand that their grades tie directly into their privileges. 

2) How much total time would she LIKE to spend on the computer?

The more my kids put aside other things (crafts, practice, going outside) to play computers, the less total time I give them without regulating it heavily. Basically, I am enforcing the balance. I also enforce breaks on a regular basis.

3) What does she want to play?

If she wants to play a game that I feel has education value over a game I feel is a brain-dead button masher, I'll give her far more time to explore the game. Also, if I feel the game has some value to teach my child, then she has more freedom to explore it.

4) How good is she at the game?

Once my child masters a game, I tend to start encouraging her to move on to another one. While there is much to be learned in repetition and dealing with patterns, the amount a person learns from a game he/she has mastered is much less than delving into something new. SOME games defy this. You can play them endlessly, and your brain would still be learning from it. (Check out the Tetris Effect.)

It's entirely possible that my answer will not help at all depending on the person your child is. This is a general guideline that works on MY children, but as I'm often asked for advice in this department, I figured I'd make a blog post about it. Hope it helps!

#1reasontobe - My Foray into Twitter

Okay, so I didn't have the perfect picture to go with this blog, and the only reason I'm really resurrecting my blog (which died a quiet, twitchy death due to the demands of work) is because of the Twitter hashtag #1reasonwhy. This hashtag exposes the sexism that happens in the gaming industry, a place that I actually work. Strangely enough, most of these hashtags don't resonate with me in any true way. I only got involved because my husband asked me to do so.

When I told him that I didn't feel like any of these tweets really resonated with me, he reminded me of my own #1reasonwhy incident that happened at GDC Online two and a half years ago. I attended as a gaming journalist and a game designer/developer, and it was my first GDC Online ever. I can only imagine what I looked like to most of the people there: bright-eyed, eager, ready to learn and discuss deep gaming issues with my colleagues. For the most part, that's exactly what happened. I never felt belittled. I was taken seriously by the professionals at Bioware, Blizzard, Autodesk, and numerous other entities in the gaming industry. When the vendors knew that I was the VP and Creative Director of a small gaming company, they wooed me with the same passion that they did everyone else.

Then came the stumbling block. I talked to a game developer who made a game that I was very interested in trying, but as always, being a female developer, I asked what the ratio of men to women was in their game. He replied that it was approximately 99.9% men. Naturally, my next question was, "Do you have any plans to improve that ratio?"

Keep in mind that I was there to write about the games being displayed at GDC Online as well as making connections for my own company. His reply halted pretty much any conversation between us. "What? You mean like make it World of Dolls?"

No, actually, that's NOT what I meant. Heck, the game already wasn't about dolls, and I was interested in it. Why would it have to be about dolls to interest women? I'm a woman. I was interested in the game as it was. I simply wanted to know if they had any interest in getting more women, and I wanted to discuss what the challenges would be to do so in such a game. 

His comment was effectively a conversation killer. I had nothing to say after that. I didn't check out the game. I didn't write about it. I didn't talk about it until just a year or so later when we began to expand our own gaming company, and my husband reminded me of the incident and added that it was vitally important we never make that kind of mistake.

Ultimately, I ended up participating in the #1reasonstobe started by Terry Prachett's daughter, Rhianna Prachett, a writer for video games among other things. I, very luckily, ended up in a company that identified my talents as a game and system designer as well as a writer. There's very little discussion about my gender except to acknowledge that my designs might reach a greater variety of gamers than others. That isn't to say that my gender is ignored. It's often valued, but it's just considered another asset of the company, like being a good artist or being a good writer. 

But we also value our men for being male in the same way that I'm valued for being a woman. For some parts of the games I design, I know that I want male input on certain systems within one of my games. We do this to get the best game possible that appeals to a wide variety of people. We're small; we're indie; we need all of our talents utilized in the best way possible. 

My #1reasontobe in the gaming industry is the fact that I have a great team who really doesn't care that I'm a woman but recognizes the perks that having a woman in design brings them. 

Now I have to go carry in our company's daily game of League of Legends.

Hell's Vacuum

I wrote this during a writing challenge for the writers who participate in Threshold RPG. We were all given a topic and told to write a short story based on that topic. Mine was to write a story about a vacuum cleaner trapped in Hell. Here are the results.

Sturty sighed as he glanced around the tactlessly decorated room. He noted the ugly Tiffany lamp, the floral wallpaper, and the paisley rug that stretched over scratched oak flooring. Twenty year he’d been here in Hell, and he definitely felt every minute of it.

Once again he pondered his plight. He, who once had been wielded by some of the greatest warriors and leaders of the world, now found himself trapped in the antique body of a Sturtevant 15, an early model vacuum cleaner released in 1920 by a subsidiary of Westinghouse. Granted, he was an upscale, luxury model, but he was still a vacuum cleaner.

Sturty started out life with a different name and a completely different form. He had once been a warrior himself, a warrior so great that his name was still mentioned in mythology, warrior so great that they forged his soul into a blade and performed rituals so that he could guide the hand of future fighters, future leaders. He had gone willingly into this last battle, and the pain had been excruciating but worth the chance to influence the world for another 3,000 years.

For centuries, he had fought in the hands of Vikings, ridden to war on valiant steeds, and hung on the walls of castles. Then, the world evolved, and he was replaced by modern weapons. Still, he was valued, coveted, and displayed. Unfortunately, as modern warfare grew at an astounding pace, his place in history and his value to the family who owned him became diminished as they, themselves were diminished. Nobility became less important, and men were judged by their actions. He was sold at an auction, then at a pawn shop. For years, he languished on a shelf, coming down only for a quick polish.

Then, approximately ten years ago, a youth bought him, a youth on the cusp of manhood, and he was overjoyed. This youth had passion and imagination. Finally, he had material he could work with!

The youth was called Davey by most and David by his parents, and he loved something he called LARP and Dungeons and Dragons. He practiced sword fighting by watching videos, and though, XXX tried to influence him to correct form and stance, Davey really went for showy moves that would have resulted in him losing limbs, digits, and possibly his head.

For a few years, they worked together, and Sturty’s influence, though subtle, began to manifest itself. Davey took a job at Medieval Times and demonstrated his skills at Renaissance fairs across the country. Then, as Sturty tried speaking directly to Davey, the poor boy fled from him, and became what was known in this century as born-again.

From there, Davey grew steadily more devout until one day, he returned to wield Sturty on a mission from God. He was going to travel into Hell and challenge the Devil himself. Sturty felt a thrill shoot up his metal spine straight from his pommel to the very tip of his pointed tip. One of the powers Sturtevant 15 had learned from Dante was to open a gate into Hell, and he did so for Davey. Unfortunately, he failed to understand that Davey was much less a warrior of God like the Templars from the old days and much more a D&D warrior and an avid player of World of Warcraft who had simply lost touch with reality.

When they reached a devil, not even THE Devil, Davey simply lost his marbles, threw Sturty into a fiery pit, and damned himself to Hell. What a mess! Unfortunately, Sturtevant’s end did not happen then.

Instead, when the Devil heard about the situation, he fished what was left of Sturty—by then part of the haft and the pommel— ripped his essence out of the sword’s remains and threw it into a Sturtevant 15. Then he stuck Sturty in the mundane room in which he currently found himself.

The room was reserved for proud housewives that sabotaged their working counterparts and belittled their parenting skills at PTA meetings. It was also reserved for busy corporate husbands who could not make the time to come home to their wives and children but had plenty of time to spend with hookers or at bars picking up women. The men became trapped in Sturty’s little section of hell along with the women who only had him in which to keep their “homes” perfect.

Sturty’s little section of hell was well-trafficked by human souls but infrequently visited by Hell’s keepers. When they did visit, they were lesser demons and imps. And so, Sturty spent the first few years running over the toes of damned souls and gaining power from that. Then he moved on to sucking up imp tails. Recently, he had progressed to sucking up whole imps and small parts of demons. He no longer needed to mangle the human souls, thank goodness, for that was not too his taste. In fact, he had been formulating a plan to form an alliance with a human who could carry him out of Hell and back to the realm of the living where he could once again perform noble deeds and glorious feats.

Little steps, Sturty told himself. Baby steps. Let’s take this carefully and slowly.

In his previous form as a glorious sword topped with an emerald pommel, Sturty had been able to communicate with anyone who wielded him. Crafted by experts at smithing and magic, Sturty could cause his entire form to vibrate at a frequency which formed words without disturbing his wielders. Now trapped in a vacuum, he could not do much more than roar, growl or hum. In other words, he could make vacuum noises. Unfortunately, he had yet to meet a human soul who could understand vacuumish.

Sturty had, over the years, realized that in vacuum form, however, he could take on characteristics of any being he sucked into his dust chamber, even if he only got a finger, a toe, or the tip of a barbed tail. Unfortunately, most of the powers he had access to were rather mundane: excellent polishing skills, business acumen, and the ability to set fire to small objects. Still, if he could lure the right demon into this room, he might find something useful. He was now far more adept at handling larger prey than when he first arrived. He just needed the right one.

A sudden *POP* and a flash of light heralded the entrance of a new soul. Sturty recognized him as the former CEO of a rather large company that dealt in innovative designs of electronics such as phones, music players, and even movies. In fact, Sturty loved the movies created by one of the companies this man once headed. Too bad they got bought out by the Mouse.

“Where the Hell am I?” The CEO turned in a circle and studied his surroundings. “What an ugly room.”

Sturty gave a vroom of agreement, and the CEO’s attention turned to him.

“Hmm, a vacuum cleaner. A Sturtevant 15, I believe.”

Wow. This guy was really smart. Sturty gave another vroom, and he tried to fill this one with approval.

“Weird. A vacuum cleaner that seems to emote.”

If Sturty had still possessed a heart, it would have thumped in excitement. Instead, he gave a few varooms and zzzt of excitement. Maybe he’d found someone worthy to wield him—well, once he got into more wieldable form.

“Sturtevant, vroom twice if you understand me.”

Sturty gave two vrooms immediately, and his metallic parts nearly quivered with glee.

“Where am I?”

Ugh. Sturty had no way to tell this man where he was. He could only sputter somewhat sadly.

“How silly of me. Of course you can’t answer that kind of a question.”

The CEO thought for a moment.

“Okay, am I dead? I remember a lot of pain, but there was peace at the end. Two vrooms if I am.”

VROOM. VROOM.

“I knew it. Well, I fought it long and hard. Bought myself enough time to launch our new product. Got to spend some time with my family and friends.”

The CEO looked around again and studied his surroundings.

“I’m pretty sure this can’t be Heaven. Am I in hell?” He seemed pretty astounded by the thought. “I can’t be in Hell. There must be some sort of mistake. Vroom twice if I’m in hell.”

VROOM. VROOM.

“What the Hell? That’s bullshit!”

Sturty tried to make a few commiserating noises consisting of a squeak, a rumble and a sad moan.

“We’re getting out of here, vacuum cleaner. I doubt that you deserve to be here either.”

Sturty made sounds that he hoped conveyed agreement. At that moment, a minor demon wandered in, probably to check out the newbie, and Sturty quickly wrapped a cord around its feet, toppled it to the ground, and sucked it up before it could even squeal.

He felt the familiar rush of power and energy, and he nearly purred in happiness.

“Whoa. You’re glowing red there. Did you just suck up a demon or a devil or something? That little guy totally looked like all the cartoony demons they used to put in Tom and Jerry.”

VROOM. VROOM.

“Do you get something from doing that?”

VROOM. VROOM.

“Nice. Once of my mantras is focus and simplicity, and if simplicity is found in a vacuum cleaner, then that’s what we’ll use to get out of here.”

In a matter of hours, the CEO had dismantled a lamp, an ancient telephone, and the old television, and Sturty now had several upgrades to his vacuuming power not to mention a strap so that he could be worn over the CEO’s thin shoulders. The CEO had stripped him of all unnecessary parts in order to make him lighter.

“Okay, now we’re packin’,” he joked. “Let’s blow this joint!”

The CEO, now packing Sturty on his back, examined the walls of the room for a way to get out of the area. He had the fingers and hands that Sturty never had, so he was able to poke and prod crevices and bookcases. Unfortunately, there seemed to be no visible or invisible way to leave. Sturty hummed in distress.

“Don’t worry there, Vacuum. I’m dead now, and I really do have nothing to lose. We’re going to get out here. Even dead, I’m still hungry, and I’m still foolish.”

After searching for quite some time—time was hard to determine in Hell—the CEO sat down with Sturty clutched in his hands. He waited patiently, much like Sturty had for years, and watched the room with keen eyes hidden behind glasses. When another lowly demon made its appearance, the CEO had it sucked into Sturty within seconds. Once again, Sturty felt that rush of power, and this little demon had a particular power that he felt growing within him. This one could teleport itself as well as souls throughout Hell.

Unfortunately, Sturty had no way of knowing what was outside in order to teleport.

Thus, he imagined a drawing by Paul Gustave Doré of the 9^th level of Hell as Dante spoke to the traitors on ice. It happened to be the safest place he could think of here. As soon as he teleported himself and the CEO, he threw down rings of fire to try to keep the CEO warm.

“Holy crap!” the CEO yelled, but he adjusted rapidly to the change in scenery. They had popped into the midst of a ring of demons, and he sucked them all into Sturty’s sturdy bag.

Sturty felt his powers growing rapidly by the minute. They sucked down nine demons, and finally, the last one had the power he needed.

Straight into the CEO’s mind, he said, “Welcome to Hell. You don’t deserve to be here and neither do I. Let’s get out of here.”

To which the CEO replied, “I want to put a ding in Hell.”

I have a lot of free time!

Okay, so that's what I thought when I first started this blog. I was delusional because my girls weren't home at the time, and so I thought I'd be able to have a blog. I thought I could even have two blogs, but I was wrong, wrong, wrong. I'm also completely boggled by how much time kids actually take because it sure doesn't feel like they take up THAT much time when you're wallowing in their cuteness and cuddly-ness.

While they were gone, I felt like they were gone forever, and I updated my blog like a good little writer. I tried to continue doing so for a while when they came back, but my efforts died off as we approached closed beta and then open beta for our new game, Coin 'n Carry. In addition, I've been trying to stay on top for social media for our 15 year old game, Threshold RPG.

Oh! Did I mention that we also had our yearly convention? Yep, FroggaCon 2011 happened in early August. School started for my kids about 2 days after FroggaCon ended, and we started our Closed Beta the day after FroggaCon officially ended. One of my mom friends told me I was crazy. I think she was right.

Anyway, so let me sum up:

1. My kids went on vacation with family.
2. I created two blogs during their time away.
3. My kids came back.
4. I tried to keep up with with my blogs.
5. I failed.
6. We had our yearly convention for Threshold RPG players.
7. We had our closed beta.
8. School started for the kids.
9. We had our open beta.
10. My face hurts.

I'd promise to do better, but I don't think that's realistic. Thank goodness I don't have a gigantic following of readers... yet!

P.S. My graphic is from Coin 'n Carry. That is an artifact display case from one of our themed sets.

Are you going to write your book?

This is a question I ask myself frequently. There are currently a ton of demands on my time, and I wonder whether or not it is worth it to shift my time towards my book. Writing the book is a daunting task, but getting it published is what I truly fear. When I read that some of my favorite authors were rejected hundreds of times before they got their first book published, I cringe. They must have spent almost as much time getting their book published as they did writing it... if not more.

So, with that in mind, I put my partially written book on the shelf, and I'll work on it every now and then. The story sits in my head, and new scenes come to me constantly. I really want to tell this story, and I really want people to read it and enjoy it. It's just that the hurdles always seemed far too big.

Now, I feel that with eBooks, there's a chance for good writers to be read without ever knowing the right people or getting the perfect set of eyes to read a single book. I recently read up on Barnes & Nobles and their PubIt! program, and I'm very intrigued. BN.com takes 35% of the proceeds for every book sold, but seriously, that's not that bad. I've heard of publishing companies that take more. Plus, if you do manage to sell quite a few books on PubIt!, I bet that publishers will be more than willing to print the rest of your books.

So, once I put our new game out, I think I'll put some serious time towards my book. You guys will have to buy it, read it, and tell everyone how good (or awful) it is!

Where the Weres Go

So, I've been reading a few paranormal romances lately. Patricia Briggs is one of my favorites, and then I decided that maybe I should try to write a paranormal romance short story as a project. I wanted to see if I could make a really wimpy were-animal be sexy. After discarding the were-corgi as my choice of topics, I decided on the were-earthworm.

About two minutes into thinking about the story, I realized that this could only end badly. Not only are were-earthworms really not sexy; I'd have to go down the route of tentacle porn if I was going to write this story. That really seemed unappealing to me despite the fact that I'm Asian, so I decided to discard my idea.

Instead, I went to bother my husband about were-orcas and were-corgis. I guess the only point to this blog post is that sometimes it's good that a project dies before a single word ever gets written.