An old standby of the computer world is the gaming industry, going all the way back to Pong and Pac-man. One of the hottest, relatively recent, developments has been the touch screen, on smart phones and tablets such as iPad. There is a legitimate question as to how this pair of computer tendencies might co-exist.
Certainly, the immediate evidence would suggest such a concern is much ado about nothing. Games have been developed for touch screens: I've compiled my list of the best games for iPad elsewhere. The fact of such games though has not been without its detractors and critics.
At the risk of caricaturing the complaint, it does often come down to a fairly crude objection. The gist of the complaint is that the player's fingers get in the way of seeing the screen.
That I suspect has more to do with bad design than touch screen gaming per se. And it seems that such a protest misses a more central insight in all of this. Complaining that a tactile interaction with the screen is problematic is really not seeing the forest for the trees. What is going on here is, I suspect, the revolutionizing of gaming. In fact, it may be a portent of the future of human-computer interfacing.
Before completely unpacking this claim, some context will be helpful. Consider the visceral pleasures of finger painting. I know many will object that serious painters use paint brushes. Fine.
Don't get distracted from the central point, though. Probably there is not a single person reading this that hasn't at some point in life experienced the joys of sticking fingers into the paint; smearing, spreading and shaping it across a page. Part of the satisfaction of finger painting is the resemblance it has to sculpture. We all know how much children delight in finger painting. Adults, too, though if they can get beyond their inhibitions over acting child-like, can find themselves completely consumed in the tactile and sensual pleasures of finger painting.
On the other hand, there's the Etch-n-Sketch. Now, don't get me wrong. It can be fun, too. In a sort of detail oriented and slightly fixated way. But have you ever seen anyone, of any age, using an Etch-n-Sketch beam out the sheer joy that is ubiquitous and contagious in finger painting? I want to put it to you that the joy of the latter has to do with the immersion in, not only the experience, but also into the product of the experience.
The person finger painting, in a very real sense, is actually "in" the picture that she is painting. The painting is literally an extension of the painter and the painter an extension of the painting. If we can wrap our head about this dynamic we will understand why touch screen gaming is not only the future of gaming, but of human-computer interface. The touch screen game has the same affect of immersing the player in the game as finger painting does of immersing the painter into the painting.
Complaints over the touch screen's lack of buttons and joysticks, mice and keyboards, express nothing more than the entirely predictable resistance to change always experienced by people left behind by technological change. Such people are understandably resentful. They have invested great amounts of time, energy and sometimes their personal wealth, into learning skills that are rendered obsolete.
History's full of these kinds of self-serving skill-protecting complaints masquerading as principled aesthetic objections. From photographers complaining about digital cameras, old ink-stained newspaper men complaining about the internet, motion picture moguls complaining about television, big band musicians complaining about the phonograph, and horse-and-carriage jockeys complaining about the automobile, this is an old story. And the outcome is usually the same, despite the best efforts of those with heavy investments in the past technologies. Though painful for the individuals involved, unless we are content to live in the past, this is ultimately for the good.
And of course superior function, though real enough, isn't even the real issue. The common themes here are more immediate and accessible experiences. Think about the very first person, whoever he was, that connected speakers to his television so as to produce surround sound. Surely he didn't know it, but he was blazing a way down a path which would eventually lead to that day not so far in the future when we'll all experience our favorite programs as total virtual reality scenarios.
It verges on cliche to observe how we humans so enjoy "losing ourselves" in our entertainment. When we're enjoying it the most we're "wrapped up in it." These turns of phrase capture a deep seated desire for momentary transcendence. For a little while we seek to escape our worries and even our very bodily presence in the mundane world. This urge for brief refuge in fantasy explains much about our continuous urge for deeper and deeper immersion in our entertainment media.
The emergence of the hugely popular Wii is an obvious illustration of just this phenomenon: the move toward a tactically immersive gaming experience. The touch screen, with its immersive gaming experience, putting us right in the game in a way no control console or keyboard ever can, is a kind of link between the innocent joys of childhood finger painting and virtual reality narrative and exploratory experiences that are just around the corner.
In Sci-Fi shows we see space age technology in which lights come on when given a verbal command. How much more impressive would it be though if our lights came on when we needed them, or raised their intensity when our eyes were growing tired of a task. Leading edge AI technology raises this very possibility. Immersion is the natural inclination of human-computer interface.
These touch screen games, modest as they appear today, are but a way-station into our future. The kind of games that designers create for touch screen devices like the iPad reveals much about their own capacity to contribute to the future. When you meet a game that is dependent upon "buttons" on the screen, you've encountered a designer who, sadly, is much like film makers and record producers of the past. Only able to conceive of the new technology as means to record live performances, they set up their camera and microphone in static processes which were oblivious to the rich potential that would soon be unlocked those creative souls who ventured into the world of the yet to be created disciplines of cinematography and splice-editing.
Only when game designers have fully immersed themselves in the creative possibilities of designing games organic to the touch screen, will they truly broach the potential for optimizing the best games for iPad, and other touch screen devices. The choice is whether they will be stragglers of the past or pioneers of the future.
Certainly, the immediate evidence would suggest such a concern is much ado about nothing. Games have been developed for touch screens: I've compiled my list of the best games for iPad elsewhere. The fact of such games though has not been without its detractors and critics.
At the risk of caricaturing the complaint, it does often come down to a fairly crude objection. The gist of the complaint is that the player's fingers get in the way of seeing the screen.
That I suspect has more to do with bad design than touch screen gaming per se. And it seems that such a protest misses a more central insight in all of this. Complaining that a tactile interaction with the screen is problematic is really not seeing the forest for the trees. What is going on here is, I suspect, the revolutionizing of gaming. In fact, it may be a portent of the future of human-computer interfacing.
Before completely unpacking this claim, some context will be helpful. Consider the visceral pleasures of finger painting. I know many will object that serious painters use paint brushes. Fine.
Don't get distracted from the central point, though. Probably there is not a single person reading this that hasn't at some point in life experienced the joys of sticking fingers into the paint; smearing, spreading and shaping it across a page. Part of the satisfaction of finger painting is the resemblance it has to sculpture. We all know how much children delight in finger painting. Adults, too, though if they can get beyond their inhibitions over acting child-like, can find themselves completely consumed in the tactile and sensual pleasures of finger painting.
On the other hand, there's the Etch-n-Sketch. Now, don't get me wrong. It can be fun, too. In a sort of detail oriented and slightly fixated way. But have you ever seen anyone, of any age, using an Etch-n-Sketch beam out the sheer joy that is ubiquitous and contagious in finger painting? I want to put it to you that the joy of the latter has to do with the immersion in, not only the experience, but also into the product of the experience.
The person finger painting, in a very real sense, is actually "in" the picture that she is painting. The painting is literally an extension of the painter and the painter an extension of the painting. If we can wrap our head about this dynamic we will understand why touch screen gaming is not only the future of gaming, but of human-computer interface. The touch screen game has the same affect of immersing the player in the game as finger painting does of immersing the painter into the painting.
Complaints over the touch screen's lack of buttons and joysticks, mice and keyboards, express nothing more than the entirely predictable resistance to change always experienced by people left behind by technological change. Such people are understandably resentful. They have invested great amounts of time, energy and sometimes their personal wealth, into learning skills that are rendered obsolete.
History's full of these kinds of self-serving skill-protecting complaints masquerading as principled aesthetic objections. From photographers complaining about digital cameras, old ink-stained newspaper men complaining about the internet, motion picture moguls complaining about television, big band musicians complaining about the phonograph, and horse-and-carriage jockeys complaining about the automobile, this is an old story. And the outcome is usually the same, despite the best efforts of those with heavy investments in the past technologies. Though painful for the individuals involved, unless we are content to live in the past, this is ultimately for the good.
And of course superior function, though real enough, isn't even the real issue. The common themes here are more immediate and accessible experiences. Think about the very first person, whoever he was, that connected speakers to his television so as to produce surround sound. Surely he didn't know it, but he was blazing a way down a path which would eventually lead to that day not so far in the future when we'll all experience our favorite programs as total virtual reality scenarios.
It verges on cliche to observe how we humans so enjoy "losing ourselves" in our entertainment. When we're enjoying it the most we're "wrapped up in it." These turns of phrase capture a deep seated desire for momentary transcendence. For a little while we seek to escape our worries and even our very bodily presence in the mundane world. This urge for brief refuge in fantasy explains much about our continuous urge for deeper and deeper immersion in our entertainment media.
The emergence of the hugely popular Wii is an obvious illustration of just this phenomenon: the move toward a tactically immersive gaming experience. The touch screen, with its immersive gaming experience, putting us right in the game in a way no control console or keyboard ever can, is a kind of link between the innocent joys of childhood finger painting and virtual reality narrative and exploratory experiences that are just around the corner.
In Sci-Fi shows we see space age technology in which lights come on when given a verbal command. How much more impressive would it be though if our lights came on when we needed them, or raised their intensity when our eyes were growing tired of a task. Leading edge AI technology raises this very possibility. Immersion is the natural inclination of human-computer interface.
These touch screen games, modest as they appear today, are but a way-station into our future. The kind of games that designers create for touch screen devices like the iPad reveals much about their own capacity to contribute to the future. When you meet a game that is dependent upon "buttons" on the screen, you've encountered a designer who, sadly, is much like film makers and record producers of the past. Only able to conceive of the new technology as means to record live performances, they set up their camera and microphone in static processes which were oblivious to the rich potential that would soon be unlocked those creative souls who ventured into the world of the yet to be created disciplines of cinematography and splice-editing.
Only when game designers have fully immersed themselves in the creative possibilities of designing games organic to the touch screen, will they truly broach the potential for optimizing the best games for iPad, and other touch screen devices. The choice is whether they will be stragglers of the past or pioneers of the future.
About the Author:
To follow the hottest goings-on in the world of touch screen games, follow Mishu Hull's regular articles at the Best Games for iPad site. He writes on a variety of technology topics. His recent slam of the newest version of Kindle Fire, " Kindle Fire Tries it Again, But... ," is a must read.
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