Category Archives: Assignments

Final Project: Psychopup: A Death Planning Game

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(Note: I’m hoping that the above links work for everyone – please leave a comment if they don’t! You’ll need to click until you see the Psychopup application item (the one with the pink-haired girl.) You may need to extract all files first, and then repeat the process.)
I’m excited to share my prototype of Psychopup: A Death Planning Game. I’ve built this game in Ren’Py, a Python framework typically used for visual novels. I chose this framework since it is light, easy to learn, and works well with choice-based games
I was inspired to build Psychopup from the McGonigal reading.I wanted to take a useful process in our lives that was hard to do or may not be common knowledge and make it more accessible through a game. Then I remembered that I had wanted to work on my own death plan, but always became too intimidated when trying to find the paperwork that I’d need. Death planning was just the process that I was looking for. It’s tedious, scary, and can be difficult to find all of the resources that you need if you don’t know where to look.
Death planning may seem like a strange concept for a game, but there does exist in each of us a curiosity toward the unknown. I was moved when reading Freud’s Beyond the Pleasure Principle at our professor’s suggestion to find the story of a baby who would drop his toy and retrieving it in a way to mimic his mother’s departure and return each day. He comments that the child had clearly turned this upsetting experience into a game, though whether he did so to familiarize himself with the experience on his own terms or project his frustration at being left onto the toy, Freud was unsure. Yet, I think this experience speaks to human behavior in that we make games out of what frightens us, what is difficult for us. From Resident Evil to Bloody Marie to Ring Around the Rosie, we have this desire to explore beyond our comfort zone. And, since this game is already exploring enough outside of the player’s comfort zone, I made the main character a cute fluffy dog with the rough color palette of Terry Pratchett’s Death from Discworld (the best anthropomorphic representation of the subject).
The game opens by asking the player for their name, their state (currently only New York is available), and what they would like to name their “Psychopup” (play on “psychopomp”, or guide through the afterlife). Rather than guide the player through the afterlife, however, the pup needs to be trained how to guide others in regards to the player’s health care decisions and funerary arrangements at the end of / after their life. The player is then informed that in order for their new dog to be a true Psychopup, the player would need to teach them three basic skills:
  • fetch – allowing the dog to find where the player has put important belongings
  • guard – allowing the dog to protect the players’ death plan wishes. Each section has an impact on the Psychopup, providing them with an elemental power up, armor, extra lives, and additional strength.
  • speak – telling the dog who the player has chosen to take care of their health care decisions in the event that they cannot and to plan their funeral / body disposition. In Speak, the player is also given advice on how to ask their chosen people if they would accept this responsibility

Once the player has completed all three skills, they are able to mark their training as complete and download a text file with the choices that they have made. The file is loaded to the “resources” folder in the game files, where the player can also find the state of New York’s Where Are My Assets, Body Disposition, Living Will, and Health Care Proxy forms. They can use their choice text file to fill out the forms later, and, even if they don’t, at least the player took some time to think about what they would want for their end of life plan. Regardless, they come away from the experience with more than they started. They would have a magic circle in which they could engage with considering their end of life plan to their own comfort level. Unlike Huizinga’s view of play however, the player would carry the fruits of that experience with them when they leave the circle.

One may look at this description and wonder if I have provided the player with an actual game. There is neither any score, nor a true sense of “winning” or “losing”. Yet, the game still fills the four requirements McGonigal lists for a game: a goal, a set of rules, a feedback system, and voluntary participation. The player is given the goal at the start of the game – train your Psychopup. They are also provided with each of the three tricks at the start that they can tackle in any order. For rules, the player must answer the questions provided to them in each trick path. For a feedback system, a player is informed when a skill has been completed, and a path is grayed out when the player has already finished it, For Guard, a more nebulous skill, the player is prompted with a finish button after finishing one section, allowing them to choose when they are comfortable with ending the skill. Finally, for voluntary participation, it is the player’s own choice whether to download and play the game, and they can quit the program at any time. In the rather long Guard skill training, the player is given the option down each path to take a break and select another skill or return to the main menu. Ren’Py’s built in save feature also allows players to play at their own pace and leave at their own leisure.

For this version of the game, I focused on creating a Minimum Viable Product – could I guide a player through the information found in these four forms in an engaging and accessible way? I certainly have a list of what I would like to add to the game now that I have the basic game flow down, such as:

  • Updating the Psychopup avatar as the player completes different sections in the Guard skill
  • Readding the average funeral cost breakdown screen into the Guard skill (technical difficulties)
  • Allowing the player to add in assets in the Fetch minigame rather than working with (mostly) what was provided on the form
  • Allowing the player to disable aspects unrelated to them through a menu with items like “Hide items related to home ownership”, “hide items related to marriage”, etc.in the Fetch minigame
  • Adding in minigames in the Care section that are unlocked with each skill that the player completes
  • Adding in a more robust pet / brush the dog feature
  • Add in backgrounds, perhaps depicting different rooms in a home changing with the game progression
  • Add in options for more states
If you do decide to play the game, any and all feedback would be appreciated – I do plan on polishing this prototype up and proposing it for the CUNY Games Conference!
Works Consulted

Late Blog Post #3: Formal Rules, Informal Rulings, And Safety Tools in Role-Playing Games

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As a form of interactive fiction, tabletop role-playing games (TTRPGs) – including Dungeons & Dragons and countless other systems that followed it – require players to collaboratively create an imaginary narrative guided by three types of rules: formal rules found in gameplay rulebooks, informal rulings made between the Game Master and players, and social guidelines that respect the diverse backgrounds, safety, inclusion, and expectations of everyone involved.

I: FORMAL RULES, BY-THE-BOOK RULES AS WRITTEN

These guidelines inform players and the lead storyteller player (the Game Master, called the Dungeon Master in D&D) of the potential odds of success for players to make informed character decisions, a necessity given the unreality of each game’s inherent simulation and often fantastical nature. For example, exactly what level of training, specific spell components, spoken magical words, and arcane gestures are needed to trigger a fireball that smites one’s enemies? There’s a rule for that.

GAME MASTER MARY: “You see five ogres, about 60 feet away and standing outside the castle gate. What do you do?”

PLAYER ALICE: “My wizard has one third-level spell slot left, so I cast Fireball. Fleur Flameholm holds her glowing arcane orb aloft and summons a burst of fiery elemental fury around the ogres gathered by the castle gate. That does eight six-sided dice of damage… (rolls dice) …for 29 points of fire damage.”

GM MARY: “Ouch. What’s the save on that spell?”

PLAYER ALICE: “All targets in a 20-foot radius have to make a Dexterity saving throw against my spellcasting difficulty class of 15 for half damage.”

The parameters for defining “interaction fiction” in Nick Montfort’s Twisty Little Passages were written about electronic text games, but they broadly also fit the genre of tabletop role-playing games (p. 23):

* a text-accepting, text-generating computer program (see note below);
* a potential narrative, that is, a system that produces narrative during interaction;
* a simulation of an environment or world; and
* a structure of rules within which an outcome is sought, also known as a game.

In the case of TTRPGs, a human player (the Game Master/Dungeon Master) replaces the role of a computer program. This structured gameplay in TTRPGs also mirrors the relationship to interactive fiction input and output that Montfort charts in Table 1.1 (p. 28):

* Extradiegetic Input: “I cast Fireball, causing 29 points of fire damage.”
* Extradiegetic Output: “I rolled an 18, with a minus 1 modifier, for a total saving throw of 17.”
* Diegetic Input: “I hold aloft my glowing arcane orb and summon a burst of fiery elemental fury around the ogres gathered by the castle gate.”
* Diegetic Output: “The sudden explosion sends the burned ogres fleeing toward the water of the castle’s moat.”

Most tabletop role-playing games aim to define these extradiegetic input options for player characters clearly. In the Dungeons & Dragons 5th edition rules, these inputs are called actions, bonus actions, movements, or reactions; they include verbs like Attack, Dash, Disengage, Dodge, Escape, Grapple, Hide, and so forth. In the Blades in the Dark TTRPG, such actions might have more fanciful names: Attune, Consort, Prowl, Skirmish, or Sway. In Apocalypse World, such inputs are called Moves and named to invoke a sense of story style: Act Under Fire, Go Aggro, Sucker Someone, Seduce or Manipulate, Read a Stich, and so on.

II: INFORMAL RULINGS, THE GAME MASTER MAKES THE CALL

TTRPGs allow players to improvise extradiegetic and diegetic inputs not explicitly anticipated by each game’s rules. Whereas computer-driven interactive fiction would be limited by returning an output such as “I don’t know that” or “You can’t do that here,” adjudicating these situations is much easier for human Game Masters.

Examples of inputs from players requiring informal rulings could include crafting a mechanical trap from scavenged materials, bargaining with the Spirit of Death to gain one more year of life, or citing a flashback to justify preparations for a current situation.

Most TTRPGs also borrow a rule from comedy improv and encourage Game Masters to say “Yes, and…” for unusual situations. They either accept whatever a player offers or counter with the odds of success the player may use to decide if an attempt is worth the risk. In more limited responses, Game Masters may counter with “No, but…” and suggest alternatives that would fit within the capabilities of a specific character’s abilities and situation.

GAME MASTER MARY: “Passing through the castle gate, you are confronted by a dozen suspicious men-at-arms wearing the king’s colors, all standing ready for battle.”

PLAYER DAVE: “My paladin Sir Nedwyrm the Honorable served in this royal guard as a youth, years before taking his sacred oath. Do I recognize any of these men-at-arms?”

GM MARY: “Sure, the big mustached guard at the front is your old captain, Sir Blotus.”

PLAYER DAVE: “Good Sir Blotus, do you not know me? ‘Tis I, Nedwyrm, returning to the king’s court at the hour of his majesty’s greatest need.”

GM MARY: “Okay, make a Charisma roll here, aiming for a 10 or higher for Blotus to recognize you…”

III: SOCIAL COMPACT RULES AND SAFETY TOOLS

Unlike authored interactive fiction – such as hypertext novels, non-linear films, or single-player video games – collaborative experiences like TTRPGs can, whether intentionally or unintentionally, create scenes and situations that disrupt a comfortable, respectful, and enjoyable experience, potentially leading to unintended distress for players. Much has been written about toxic behavior involving racism, sexism, homophobic language, and personal threats in networked online video games, social media user comments, and other online forums. Shared storytelling can lead to similar problematic moments in role-playing games.

Even when not involving direct harassment or microaggressions, descriptions in TTRPGs may go outside the boundaries of players’ comfort. Depending on the genre of the game or story, certain narrative elements might be expected – hacking away with swords and axes in a fantasy game, seductions and betrayals in an espionage game – but excessive descriptions of violence, gore, sex, and substance abuse may be triggers for some players.

GAME MASTER MARY: “Bob’s new here, so tell us about your character…”

PLAYER BOB: “I’m Finklewit, a court jester-type bard with a dark sense of humor.”

GM MARY: “Neat! Okay, so you all get past the guards without incident and enter the royal court in time to hear the king complaining about-“

PLAYER BOB: “I stab out the king’s eyes!”

GM MARY: “-Wait, what?!?”

PLAYER BOB: “I run around the court holding up the king’s bloody eyes dangling from their optic nerves, shouting at people, ‘I can see you! I can see you!'”

GM MARY: “…”

PLAYER BOB: “What’s the problem?”

GM MARY: “What the hell is wrong with you, Bob?”

PLAYER BOB: “I mean, it’s just what my character would do…”

Some games identify problematic subject matter straight from the beginning. Consider this strong content warning featured in The Silt Verses role-playing game, a horror-themed setting based on the podcast of the same name in which undercover agents track monstrous pagan deities loose in remote areas of a modern world:

“The Silt Verses RPG contains some dark subject matter which may not be suitable for everyone, including intense themes of religious horror, human sacrifice, graphic violence, body horror, cults, implied harm to children and animals, family trauma and mental illness, government oppression and police violence, war, and natural disasters. The section on safety tools will address these issues in more detail.”

Even when such a warning isn’t shared up front, players come to gaming tables with various ideas on what is appropriate to share. Players may not always foresee discomfort with certain themes or events. Several tools have evolved within TTRPGs to promote trust, respect and inclusivity, prevent emotional harm, support safe creative freedom, encourage open communication, and manage unexpected reactions.

To address such issues, safety tool methods I’ve used in my games have included:

The X-Card: Created by John Stavropoulos, this tool uses a physical or digital card that players can tap or hold up to signal discomfort. When the “X” is activated, the group pauses and either rewinds, rephrases, or skips the current content, allowing players to avoid discomfort without needing to explain why. For the creator’s full details on use, see:

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1SB0jsx34bWHZWbnNIVVuMjhDkrdFGo1_hSC2BWPlI3A/edit?tab=t.0

Consent Checklist: A document or checklist that players fill out individually to outline topics they’re comfortable or uncomfortable with, such as romance, horror elements, or graphic violence. This method can be as simple as passing out index cards ahead of play, letting everyone list their triggers, and collecting them before the game.

Session Zero: A pre-game session where players discuss boundaries, expectations, themes, and character backstories. It sets the stage for the campaign and allows everyone to align on comfort levels and sensitive topics.

Other safety tools popular among TTRPG groups include…

Lines and Veils: Players outline topics they’re uncomfortable with or want limited exposure to. Lines are topics that are entirely off-limits (e.g., explicit violence), while Veils are topics that can exist but should “fade to black” or be lightly referenced without detail.

Script Change: A tool with various “controls” to manage the flow of the game:
* Pause: Temporarily stops the game for discussion or breaks.
* Rewind: Backtracks to redo a scene in a different way.
* Fast Forward: Skips content or “flashes forward” past uncomfortable moments.
* Frame by Frame: Allows a scene to be played slowly to give players time to process and assess comfort levels.
* Open Door Policy: Allows any player to leave the session if they need a break or feel uncomfortable. It emphasizes that players can step away without judgment and rejoin when ready.

Stars and Wishes: Used at the end of a session, Stars are compliments or highlights, while Wishes are requests or hopes for future sessions. This tool gives players space to express what they enjoyed and what they’d like to adjust or explore further.

Lines & Veils Cards (Physical or Digital): Some systems offer cards with common lines and veils topics, which can be arranged in a visible way to remind everyone of group boundaries.

Green/Yellow/Red System: Players can use colors to indicate their comfort level during gameplay:
* Green: Everything is fine, no issues.
* Yellow: Caution, getting close to a boundary.
* Red: Stop or skip the current content.

Aftercare/Decompression Time: A post-session chat to process intense themes, check in on emotional well-being, and address any issues that may have arisen during the game. This is especially helpful after sessions that involve heavy emotional themes.

Blog 1 WL: Thoughts on Essential Features of the Game

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1) [Player autonomy]
In the previous class, we discussed Huizinga’s and Caillois’ definitions of play, where “voluntary activities” and “out of reality” are two key features. The former also appears multiple times in Upton’s article this week: “play can’t be compelled or coerced—it is a state into which we enter freely.” I completely agree that starting a game, whether the player is drawn to the game itself, recommended by a friend, or even forced into it at gunpoint (an extreme scenario, though a classic trope in movies), emphasizes that the game requires player involvement and interaction to be activated. This is akin to how, at the start of a game, you establish your identity within it or create your virtual account and character. Without “you,” the game can’t truly come to life. As an interactive medium, games have “voluntariness” as a fundamental feature, and this aspect of “voluntariness” is a form of behavioral autonomy.

Interestingly, once the game begins, the player’s autonomy changes to some extent. Upton also mentions that “paradoxically, our freedom isn’t complete. Instead, we allow our actions to be constrained by a set of arbitrary rules that structure and limit the experience.” Starting a game means the player sacrifices some degree of freedom, similar to signing a waiver before using any software today. For instance, using Uber means agreeing to how Uber uses your device and information; playing a game, whether expecting a good or bad experience, requires following its rules (though topics like following game guides or using mods to alter rules or affect fairness could be discussed separately). At this point, the player’s sacrifice of a certain degree of freedom to start the game doesn’t harm their autonomy because this isn’t really a “sacrifice.” Rather, the game needs a set of rules to function, and the player must interact with them, either choosing to fully comply with or break the rules (some games encourage rule-breaking, while others don’t). Up to this point, the player’s autonomy remains intact.

However, some mechanisms often used in mobile games “manipulate” player behavior, influencing the duration of gameplay and the level of engagement, which, in my view, affects player autonomy to some extent. For example, random reward systems (setting rare values for game items and lowering the drop rates of high-value items, forcing players to invest more time and money), game penalties (if you don’t log in daily, you won’t get certain items), and global rankings (some people play for the experience, while others play for winning/rewards, so competitive events may trigger competitiveness or vanity, causing players to uncontrollably invest more time and money). I believe these types of mechanisms guide player behavior, leading to actions that are not fully active or voluntary during gameplay. However, Duolingo uses similar mechanisms, where players, whether voluntarily or semi-voluntarily, end up improving their language skills. So, while players interact with the game voluntarily, their actions are not entirely autonomous, and they can even be passive.

2) [Out of reality]
Upton argues that while the concept of play is broad, there are still many constraints that narrow down its definition, such as “work isn’t play.” He believes that play “can’t be coerced or compelled,” whereas work is assigned to you by someone else, meaning you can’t equate play with work because the two concepts are fundamentally different. This part, in contrast to Bogost’s reflection on his daughter creating games, makes me interested in whether the concept of play can be extended to real life. I used to think that classes could be gamified, for example, each class as a level, the syllabus serving as a guide or rulebook, and whether completing assignments affects my final grade or “game rating” at the end. However, once you consider whether you can restart or “retry” a failed class (maybe you can, but you’ll have to wait four years?), it becomes clear that applying game concepts to real life may reveal significant differences, and this might be one of them?

Group Project #3: Playing Novels

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As discussed, our third and final group project involves “playing” a novel in ways that draw widely from several different scholarly modes and cultural forms, from the creative writing workshop to the dramatic improv troupe to the textual scholar to the Dungeons and Dragons enthusiast.

To get organized, please sign up on this simple spreadsheet. After our discussion at the end of last week’s class, most of you know that we’re dividing into two groups that will play one of two texts: Sherwood Anderson’s Winesburg, Ohio (1919), and Paula Fox’s Desperate Characters (1970).

I’ve roughed in sites for both games. Refer to them to get a quick sense of some options for roles to play. You’ll start to build your role Monday, but it will help to a) read the text you want to play and b) think a bit about what roles would be most fun in advance.

And here are Zotero groups we’ll use to gather and share materials and notes for both games: