Saturday, June 18, 2016
Those pioneers of games who inspired me to make Emeralda: Games for the gifts of life are decades younger than I
am, therefore it’s natural that they could skip the kind of hands-on, high
touch, low-tech arts and crafts that I worked on for a generation before they
were born. They had computers and music synthesizers and they knew how to use
them.
Yet there is something about games, including collectible card games and
computer games that kept the creative fires going in me despite that I don’t
code and I don’t play games at all. The strategic back story of collectible
card games interests me only a little. These games are all fantasy-based
actually, and this fact is boring to me.
I would rather devote my time and energy on strategies with which I can
deal with reality. Even if Jane MacGonigal, clarifying her view (shared by most
gamers I suppose) that “reality is broken,” I nevertheless prefer real life
versus the lives that I observe many people living by their games.
However, as Sear, writing about the Adams brothers for The Stranger offered, “The
game is largely about dwarves and the fortresses they build, it’s mostly about
life. Or, more accurately, the infinite narrative and experiential
possibilities that can arise from the universe’ tangled web of natural laws and
the unyielding flow of time time that carries it all forward,” I remembered
my similar, parallel description of Emeralda.
Emeralda is about my experiences that I set in motion in 1972, a short
story that began what is today a forty-four year narrative. The documents I
made offer me an infinity of experiential possibilities that arise from the web
of events that flowed over the time of my life. On my computers and a variety
of media are documents about artworks, photos, ephemera, text and electronic
recordings. That I have managed to keep Emeralda alive for so long is a
wonderment.
From the mid-nineties, when the web came along and I was learning how to
use it I wished I could be like the Millers, Garfield, the Adams and other game
masters so that I could put Emeralda into a form that other people could play
with it the way people play with Dwarf
Fortress. The difference is that Emeralda
is about real things—works of art, for example.
The nearest I came to realizing
this wish was when I had coffee with two family attorneys to show them my Perfect Studios trilogy, and how the
books were intended to be foundations for families of artists to insure that
the artist’s legacy would not be lost. Instead, because of the design of the
game, the artists’ legacy would be in a form prepared to transfer by selling or otherwise placing the works of art in some
kind of socially and artistically beneficial way.
In this way, Emeralda
is an artist’s legacy management and transfer system. It might be
economically beneficial to the artist’s heirs would be a plus; and there was a
strong possibility that the community might benefit, too, utilizing the
economic valuation of the work and establishing nonprofit, charitable trusts or
foundations. That’s what I plan for my legacy.
Emeralda
is a lonely game—like playing Solitaire.
Sears said that Dwarf Fortress is not
as well-known as it should be. A Dwarf
Moot was held a few days ago, and Richard Garfield was there to add his
support, lauding the game and its creators.
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