Or should that be: Vampire the Masquerade Bloodlines 2-2?
Showing posts with label The Chinese Room. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Chinese Room. Show all posts
Wednesday, 22 November 2023
Monday, 11 September 2023
Monday, 28 October 2019
Walking Simulator
I walked across an empty land
Perhaps you've heard the term uttered before and thought "Oh, it must be another one of those weird asset swap genres that populate unregulated store fronts" (I.e. Steam.) But no in actuality, for this term is as much an insult as it is a descriptor. Today I want to take a look at those games that fall under the label of 'Walking simulator' and assess whether or not the term is worthy of merit. Oh and a brief disclaimer, I have actually played through a scant few of these types of games (They're just not for me) however I am a sad lonely shut in of a human being so you can bet that I've watched significant hours of content on them. Does that achieve the same effect as playing through them? Kinda.
Firstly, let me establish that the term 'Walking simultor' was coined as a pejorative to refer to a game who's main gameplay feature is the act of walking. Not just games that offer an abundance of walking functionality within and around the game. (I.e. The game I'm currently playing as I write this, the original Dragon Quest, wouldn't qualify as although there is an absurd amount of walking, the crux of the game is the RPG combat.) Through the years there have been a increasing number of these 'Walking Simulator' experiences made almost exclusively by passionate indie studios driven by a desire to tell a story rather then stage an adventure. Or at least, I assume it's mostly indie studios. I can't imagine an pitch meeting about a game revolving around walking around your parent's house going down well with the investors. (Unless the Devs could tie in some lootboxes and a battlepass, of course.)
Personally, I am not entirely adverse to the idea and do always enjoy when a video game makes use of what it is to tell you an interesting story that isn't driven by your character's ability to stop every heart in a 5 mile radius. (Although I have no issues with those kinds of games either. 'Wolfenstein' is my jam.) However, I will specify that such experiences should; A. have a story worth following and B. actually use it's medium in a way that couldn't be achieved on any other platform. I'll always defend the early Telltale games from those who claim that they're just glorified DVD games by pointing out that your choices have genuine consequence on the progression of the story. That is something that neither film nor TV could replicate. (Books have the choose-your-own-adventure style but I never enjoyed those. Too many dead ends.) Tell me a story in a way I didn't expect and I'll have time for you, no matter how much walking I have to do to uncover that story.
That being said, I do understand and partially sympathise with those that cannot stand such games and label them 'Walking simulators'. Some people come to games looking for action and tut impatiently whenever a cutscene gets between them and the guns. Now there is nothing wrong with this, it's a little 'neanderthal-ian' but I understand, Sometimes you just want to kick a demon's head into a wall. There are even some who are willing to give games like these a chance but give up claiming that such games are too slow and/or lack any pacing whatsoever. This outlook I can sympathise heavily with. (That has literally been me before.) But I always find it is important to regard games like these within their own context and dispel your preconceived notions of what a game, or even a story, actually is. In order to explain what I mean by this, I'm going to dive into some examples of 'Walking simulators' that I am familiar with. (Good thing Steam has a section of them ready for me to cherry pick through!)
Firstly I thought we might start with one of newest entries into this genre. Partially because it's fresh in my mind and partially because it's based on a property that I'm willing to bet that you know. That's right, I'm talking about 'Blair Witch'. This was game that came out of nowhere during this year's E3. There was just a brief trailer showcasing someone prowling through the woods with a video camera and people just naturally assumed that Outlast had slunk out of the naughty corner for entry 3. When everyone saw the 'Blair Witch' title alongside the iconic stick man, no one quite knew what to expect. And why would they? The films themselves have varied wildly. The original spawned the found-footage genre and focused around spooky happenings that only seem supernatural within a certain context. The sequel took a more traditional movie approach and joined some supremely annoying teens as they undergo a series of events that could charitably be called 'phycological'. And the latest movie dabbled in time manipulation. So what the heck could we expect from a game? Well, a lot of walking it would seem.
Bloober Team's bread and butter have been creating these 'Walking Simulator'-esque games, although tilted more towards the horror angle of this sub-genre. That being said, to call 'Blair Witch' a horror game would be, once again, charitable. It is mostly an adventure through a series of mildly disconcerting visuals intercut with copious amounts of walking and basic dog maintenance. (You've got to let Bullet know that he's a good boy, afterall.) Some critics have laid into the game and the way it seems to dance around the mythology of the Witch to instead deliver a personal story of a war Vet's PTSD, although I will argue that the series itself has avoided focusing on the Witch up until now so I don't understand why the game should break that trend. (That being said, a PTSD riddled Vet is literally the most cliched 'broken' protagonist they could have gone with. I could have written a more intriguing protagonist. And I'm just an arse.) At the end of the day, the game's 'gameplay' sections are rather weak and not really worth experiencing for yourself in the way that games like 'Outlast' are. Although, the game does just enough with the way it handles the interactivity to earn it's right to be a video game. This isn't a case of a 'walk-through movie' like some games.
That dubious honor would go more to games like The Chinese Room's 'Everybody's gone to the Rapture'. This game would be the next game from The Chinese Room, since they released 'Amensia: A Machine for pigs' and managed to make every horror fan go "huh, I guess there are no new idea's in the Amnesia series, afterall." Perhaps that is the reason why the team decided to step away from the 'horror game' stigma and launch into the budding 'interactive story' genre with this new game. I had a friend who wouldn't let me rest with how much he kept bending my ear about how exciting this game would be and how it would revolutionize video game storytelling. Then it came out and suddenly gave prime ammunition to those 'Walking Simulator' coiners.
When I look at a game like 'Everybody's gone to the Rapture', I can't help but think that this is the kind of game that isn't sure of what is wanted to be. (Certainly not the laughing stock that is sort of became when it released.) Set in a lovingly rendered English town (It's actually uncanny how accurate the whole place is) this game set the player in the role of an observer through a deserted former habitat. You are tasked with... well nothing really. But the only thing to do in the game is wonder about and try to piece together what happened, so that'll likely be what you end up doing. Gameplay consists of wondering about at a literal snail's pace and interacting with nodes across the map. These nodes imbue you with some audio of the people who used to live there and will take you across the story of a few of the residents as the Event begins to happen. That is the whole game. There is little to no interactivity with your environment and the individuals that you are eavesdropping on are so mindnumbingly ordinary that you feel like you're listening to the world's slowest soap opera at times. Maybe this idea might have made for an alright radio show or podcast series, but in it's current form the game just feels like a waste to it's medium. Nothing about being able to walk around this town adds to the story on display here beyond giving you the ability to walk exceedingly slowly. This game is the prime example of what a 'Walking Simulator' is, in it's worst incarnation.
One thing that I have made note of during my brief time browsing the 'Walking Simulator' section of Steam is that no-one is married to a definitive definition. (Or the fact that Steam just has no idea what the term means.) Their list is comprised of games like 'Life is Strange 2', (Which is a choice based narrative game) Viscera Cleanup detail, (Which is a hilariously satirical game about playing the cleaning crew after a massacre. What? That exciting mopping gameplay just doesn't count?) And The Stanley Parable. This does go to show just how flimsy of a term that 'Walking Simulator' really is with the term being as broad as the describer needs it to me. (Which does not make for a good descriptor. And no, you're not allowed to apply that logic to the way I use adjectives. This is not a democracy.) However, I do find that last game I mentioned to be particularly interesting in this discussion for reasons that I hope to adequately convey.
For those unaware, 'The Stanley Parable' is a game about... well a lot of things really, but I'll just call it a parody game for now. For the game, the player is placed in the shoes of the titular Stanley and lumped with an narrator who's job it is to guide Stanley through a peculiar day at work. The intended narrative should follow Stanley discovering that his office is abandoned, finding a hidden mind control lair underneath his boss' office and escaping into the outside world of endless green fields, 'Portal' style. However, the kicker comes from the fact that it is oh-so easy for the player to subvert the Narrator's wishes and go off on their own. 'The Stanley Parable' takes a more on-the-nose approach to supplanting the expectations of the video game protagonist than, say Bioshock does, but it does it with such natural flair that it doesn't come across as boorish or pretentious. In fact, I'd go so far as to call 'The Stanley Parable' a supremely funny and clever game.
That is all despite the fact that the core gameplay of 'The Stanley Parable' is the act of walking. Yeah, you get the chance to hit the odd button every now and then,(and even jump!) but your key tool for defiance against the Narrator is the ability to walk the opposite direction from the one he wants to go in. (Unless, that's the direction that he really wants to go in. Ever thought about that?) As the protagonist defies his script, players will begin to unravel the world in a variety of smart ways that are so varied and surprising that I absolutely refuse to reveal any in this little overview. All of that is achieved and unlocked by relying on the player's capacity for curiosity and their willingness to explore. Sure, if the player is feeling compliant they could follow along their fixed path and reach the 'end', but there is so much more that the player could and should see, but it'll take an active effort on their part to experience it. I think that is what separates a game like this from the likes of 'Everybody's gone to the Rapture' and the 'Walking Simulator' label. Everything about this game is reliant on the player having interactivity with the world, choice of destination and, most-importantly, free will. There is no other medium on which this experience could exist and it makes the most out of it's existence as a 'game' to lead players for a loop. (Sometimes literally.)
There are a lot more games in Steam's list that I do not know well enough to comment on, so I decided to instead default to a couple that I know rather well that fall under the 'Walking Simulator' banner. Firstly there is the classic well-known mystery game "What remains of Edith Finch'. If you want to get a good idea for what narrative focused storytelling looks like in a video game environment, this is place to start. Although, chances are you've already heard of this game given the fact that it won a BAFTA. There is so much to this experience that goes beyond the simple 'walk along and listen to things' definition that it is rather hard to explain it all concisely, although I'll try.
'What Remains of Edith Finch' places the player in the shoes of Edith as she is placed in the woods outside of the Finch family home. From there you are expected to explore the surrounding area, uncover the stories of the former residents and uncover the reason why she's the last member in her family left alive. Now, you may thinking "That's just the Steam description", and you'd be right. There is so much to cover about the way this game handles story telling, puzzle solving and even mildly spooky scenes that is all honestly deserves a fully dedicated review which I intend to get around to at some point. More to the point, this game does not fit the disparaging confines of the 'Walking Simulator' label due to two factors. A. the exploration of the game in an interactive way is key to the 'discovery' angle that the narrative in being told in, justifying this game's existence; and B. The game has puzzles, so it's not all just walking and reading/listening.
Another such game which is often heralded as the progenitor for 'Walking Simulators' would be the oft unsung classic 'Gone Home'. Fullbrights' 'Gone home' is as close as anyone can get to a 'ground zero' for this sub-genre and it's almost cliche premise is indicative of that. You arrive back home after having been abroad for a year and discover the family home completely empty. This is another game that tasks you with nothing but instead places into an incredibly believable world space and expects you to put together the story piece by piece. The world space of 'Gone Home' is honestly the best example of such that this genre has to offer, it is so true-to-life that you honestly feel like you're rifling through a real room full of real belongings. The story is scattered amongst all this clutter so naturally that players will find themselves picking up on it instinctively and being drawn along.
Once again, 'Gone Home' is an experience which revolves primarily around the act of walking around the house and reading things, but those that dismissed this game as 'empty and boring' are doing themselves a supreme disservice in passing up this genuinely unmatched experience. The game taps into the inner voyeur inside us all and invites us to unfettered access into the lives of a family that you will become intimately familiar with in no time without ever having even met them. Also, this game transcends the 'Walking Simulator' label in my eyes by being an experience that is impossible to recreate on any other medium save for, perhaps, a real-life investigation. (Although who wants to dig through real people's possessions? That's just gross.)
Finally, I decided to dig up another well-known genre-game from a developer who have something of a tarnished reputation for me. But whatever I think or don't think about Camp Santo, their game 'Firewatch' is a noteworthy narrative adventure. Different to every other game that I've mentioned on this list, 'Firewatch' is a highly linear and story driven game that follows a newly stated fire lookout called Henry who escapes his frantic life to the desolate isolation of the Wyoming wilderness. Throughout the game your only communication with other life is your Supervisor Delilah with whom you speak exclusively over the radio. What follows is a magnetic tale about isolation, paranoia and connection that honestly must be experienced.
Firewatch is one of those games that has the potential to stay with you long after you leave the adventure. In fact, a lot of the games that I've mentioned today have that boon, it's a side effect of this sub-genre and the way it tells stories. That is partially the reason that I'm so quick to dispel the label of 'Walking Simulator' whenever I see it as I feel those two words are so reductive to the experience actually at play here. In Firewatch's case, much of the impact of the story and it's themes require the player to be as immersed with the character of Henry as humanely possible, or else the emotion resonance may fall flat. Could this be told in movie form? Sure. But it would take a damn good cast and crew to do it justice, just as it took Camp Santo to pull of this game in the first place.
Once more, I do understand the philosophy and arguments presented by the 'Walking Simultor' crowd, but I do feel that they sorely undersell a genre that has such interesting and different stories to tell. Perhaps these aren't the kind of games for everyone out there, granted, but it would be foolish to discount the value of what's there and call it nothing, when it can prove to be a special, sometimes eye-opening, experience for those willing to donate their time. It's the gaming equivalent of when Martin Scorsese labels Marvel movies as 'not cinema', or when Francis Ford Coppola expands on these claims and calls them 'despicable'. These are by no means foolish men, just two people who are a bit closed minded to a new type of Cinema that isn't to their tastes. It's perfectly okay to dislike something that doesn't speak to you, but the second you try to wave it away and assume it's trash the only person you're discrediting is yourself. (Of course, the only exception to this rule are modern sports games. They're always trash and you can quote me on that.)
Perhaps you've heard the term uttered before and thought "Oh, it must be another one of those weird asset swap genres that populate unregulated store fronts" (I.e. Steam.) But no in actuality, for this term is as much an insult as it is a descriptor. Today I want to take a look at those games that fall under the label of 'Walking simulator' and assess whether or not the term is worthy of merit. Oh and a brief disclaimer, I have actually played through a scant few of these types of games (They're just not for me) however I am a sad lonely shut in of a human being so you can bet that I've watched significant hours of content on them. Does that achieve the same effect as playing through them? Kinda.
Firstly, let me establish that the term 'Walking simultor' was coined as a pejorative to refer to a game who's main gameplay feature is the act of walking. Not just games that offer an abundance of walking functionality within and around the game. (I.e. The game I'm currently playing as I write this, the original Dragon Quest, wouldn't qualify as although there is an absurd amount of walking, the crux of the game is the RPG combat.) Through the years there have been a increasing number of these 'Walking Simulator' experiences made almost exclusively by passionate indie studios driven by a desire to tell a story rather then stage an adventure. Or at least, I assume it's mostly indie studios. I can't imagine an pitch meeting about a game revolving around walking around your parent's house going down well with the investors. (Unless the Devs could tie in some lootboxes and a battlepass, of course.)
Personally, I am not entirely adverse to the idea and do always enjoy when a video game makes use of what it is to tell you an interesting story that isn't driven by your character's ability to stop every heart in a 5 mile radius. (Although I have no issues with those kinds of games either. 'Wolfenstein' is my jam.) However, I will specify that such experiences should; A. have a story worth following and B. actually use it's medium in a way that couldn't be achieved on any other platform. I'll always defend the early Telltale games from those who claim that they're just glorified DVD games by pointing out that your choices have genuine consequence on the progression of the story. That is something that neither film nor TV could replicate. (Books have the choose-your-own-adventure style but I never enjoyed those. Too many dead ends.) Tell me a story in a way I didn't expect and I'll have time for you, no matter how much walking I have to do to uncover that story.
That being said, I do understand and partially sympathise with those that cannot stand such games and label them 'Walking simulators'. Some people come to games looking for action and tut impatiently whenever a cutscene gets between them and the guns. Now there is nothing wrong with this, it's a little 'neanderthal-ian' but I understand, Sometimes you just want to kick a demon's head into a wall. There are even some who are willing to give games like these a chance but give up claiming that such games are too slow and/or lack any pacing whatsoever. This outlook I can sympathise heavily with. (That has literally been me before.) But I always find it is important to regard games like these within their own context and dispel your preconceived notions of what a game, or even a story, actually is. In order to explain what I mean by this, I'm going to dive into some examples of 'Walking simulators' that I am familiar with. (Good thing Steam has a section of them ready for me to cherry pick through!)
When I look at a game like 'Everybody's gone to the Rapture', I can't help but think that this is the kind of game that isn't sure of what is wanted to be. (Certainly not the laughing stock that is sort of became when it released.) Set in a lovingly rendered English town (It's actually uncanny how accurate the whole place is) this game set the player in the role of an observer through a deserted former habitat. You are tasked with... well nothing really. But the only thing to do in the game is wonder about and try to piece together what happened, so that'll likely be what you end up doing. Gameplay consists of wondering about at a literal snail's pace and interacting with nodes across the map. These nodes imbue you with some audio of the people who used to live there and will take you across the story of a few of the residents as the Event begins to happen. That is the whole game. There is little to no interactivity with your environment and the individuals that you are eavesdropping on are so mindnumbingly ordinary that you feel like you're listening to the world's slowest soap opera at times. Maybe this idea might have made for an alright radio show or podcast series, but in it's current form the game just feels like a waste to it's medium. Nothing about being able to walk around this town adds to the story on display here beyond giving you the ability to walk exceedingly slowly. This game is the prime example of what a 'Walking Simulator' is, in it's worst incarnation.One thing that I have made note of during my brief time browsing the 'Walking Simulator' section of Steam is that no-one is married to a definitive definition. (Or the fact that Steam just has no idea what the term means.) Their list is comprised of games like 'Life is Strange 2', (Which is a choice based narrative game) Viscera Cleanup detail, (Which is a hilariously satirical game about playing the cleaning crew after a massacre. What? That exciting mopping gameplay just doesn't count?) And The Stanley Parable. This does go to show just how flimsy of a term that 'Walking Simulator' really is with the term being as broad as the describer needs it to me. (Which does not make for a good descriptor. And no, you're not allowed to apply that logic to the way I use adjectives. This is not a democracy.) However, I do find that last game I mentioned to be particularly interesting in this discussion for reasons that I hope to adequately convey.
For those unaware, 'The Stanley Parable' is a game about... well a lot of things really, but I'll just call it a parody game for now. For the game, the player is placed in the shoes of the titular Stanley and lumped with an narrator who's job it is to guide Stanley through a peculiar day at work. The intended narrative should follow Stanley discovering that his office is abandoned, finding a hidden mind control lair underneath his boss' office and escaping into the outside world of endless green fields, 'Portal' style. However, the kicker comes from the fact that it is oh-so easy for the player to subvert the Narrator's wishes and go off on their own. 'The Stanley Parable' takes a more on-the-nose approach to supplanting the expectations of the video game protagonist than, say Bioshock does, but it does it with such natural flair that it doesn't come across as boorish or pretentious. In fact, I'd go so far as to call 'The Stanley Parable' a supremely funny and clever game.
That is all despite the fact that the core gameplay of 'The Stanley Parable' is the act of walking. Yeah, you get the chance to hit the odd button every now and then,(and even jump!) but your key tool for defiance against the Narrator is the ability to walk the opposite direction from the one he wants to go in. (Unless, that's the direction that he really wants to go in. Ever thought about that?) As the protagonist defies his script, players will begin to unravel the world in a variety of smart ways that are so varied and surprising that I absolutely refuse to reveal any in this little overview. All of that is achieved and unlocked by relying on the player's capacity for curiosity and their willingness to explore. Sure, if the player is feeling compliant they could follow along their fixed path and reach the 'end', but there is so much more that the player could and should see, but it'll take an active effort on their part to experience it. I think that is what separates a game like this from the likes of 'Everybody's gone to the Rapture' and the 'Walking Simulator' label. Everything about this game is reliant on the player having interactivity with the world, choice of destination and, most-importantly, free will. There is no other medium on which this experience could exist and it makes the most out of it's existence as a 'game' to lead players for a loop. (Sometimes literally.)
There are a lot more games in Steam's list that I do not know well enough to comment on, so I decided to instead default to a couple that I know rather well that fall under the 'Walking Simulator' banner. Firstly there is the classic well-known mystery game "What remains of Edith Finch'. If you want to get a good idea for what narrative focused storytelling looks like in a video game environment, this is place to start. Although, chances are you've already heard of this game given the fact that it won a BAFTA. There is so much to this experience that goes beyond the simple 'walk along and listen to things' definition that it is rather hard to explain it all concisely, although I'll try.
'What Remains of Edith Finch' places the player in the shoes of Edith as she is placed in the woods outside of the Finch family home. From there you are expected to explore the surrounding area, uncover the stories of the former residents and uncover the reason why she's the last member in her family left alive. Now, you may thinking "That's just the Steam description", and you'd be right. There is so much to cover about the way this game handles story telling, puzzle solving and even mildly spooky scenes that is all honestly deserves a fully dedicated review which I intend to get around to at some point. More to the point, this game does not fit the disparaging confines of the 'Walking Simulator' label due to two factors. A. the exploration of the game in an interactive way is key to the 'discovery' angle that the narrative in being told in, justifying this game's existence; and B. The game has puzzles, so it's not all just walking and reading/listening.
Another such game which is often heralded as the progenitor for 'Walking Simulators' would be the oft unsung classic 'Gone Home'. Fullbrights' 'Gone home' is as close as anyone can get to a 'ground zero' for this sub-genre and it's almost cliche premise is indicative of that. You arrive back home after having been abroad for a year and discover the family home completely empty. This is another game that tasks you with nothing but instead places into an incredibly believable world space and expects you to put together the story piece by piece. The world space of 'Gone Home' is honestly the best example of such that this genre has to offer, it is so true-to-life that you honestly feel like you're rifling through a real room full of real belongings. The story is scattered amongst all this clutter so naturally that players will find themselves picking up on it instinctively and being drawn along.
Once again, 'Gone Home' is an experience which revolves primarily around the act of walking around the house and reading things, but those that dismissed this game as 'empty and boring' are doing themselves a supreme disservice in passing up this genuinely unmatched experience. The game taps into the inner voyeur inside us all and invites us to unfettered access into the lives of a family that you will become intimately familiar with in no time without ever having even met them. Also, this game transcends the 'Walking Simulator' label in my eyes by being an experience that is impossible to recreate on any other medium save for, perhaps, a real-life investigation. (Although who wants to dig through real people's possessions? That's just gross.)
Firewatch is one of those games that has the potential to stay with you long after you leave the adventure. In fact, a lot of the games that I've mentioned today have that boon, it's a side effect of this sub-genre and the way it tells stories. That is partially the reason that I'm so quick to dispel the label of 'Walking Simulator' whenever I see it as I feel those two words are so reductive to the experience actually at play here. In Firewatch's case, much of the impact of the story and it's themes require the player to be as immersed with the character of Henry as humanely possible, or else the emotion resonance may fall flat. Could this be told in movie form? Sure. But it would take a damn good cast and crew to do it justice, just as it took Camp Santo to pull of this game in the first place.
Once more, I do understand the philosophy and arguments presented by the 'Walking Simultor' crowd, but I do feel that they sorely undersell a genre that has such interesting and different stories to tell. Perhaps these aren't the kind of games for everyone out there, granted, but it would be foolish to discount the value of what's there and call it nothing, when it can prove to be a special, sometimes eye-opening, experience for those willing to donate their time. It's the gaming equivalent of when Martin Scorsese labels Marvel movies as 'not cinema', or when Francis Ford Coppola expands on these claims and calls them 'despicable'. These are by no means foolish men, just two people who are a bit closed minded to a new type of Cinema that isn't to their tastes. It's perfectly okay to dislike something that doesn't speak to you, but the second you try to wave it away and assume it's trash the only person you're discrediting is yourself. (Of course, the only exception to this rule are modern sports games. They're always trash and you can quote me on that.)
Friday, 26 July 2019
The Chinese Room
Mind over machine matter
In the past I have covered topics with very tenuous links to the world of gaming. I just think it is nice to mix things up every now and again. With that said, this topic is going to be one that very much stretches the definition of 'gaming blog'. Don't take this blog to mean I am finding myself feeling limited with my chosen specialization, nor that I am running out of topics to cover. I love gaming, always have, always will. But I also find theoretical teach unassailably cool. So don't be surprised if you see more blogs come out-of-left field like this one. Now I've got that out of the way, let me ask you: Have you ever played: The Turing Test?
It is a very cool indie-feeling puzzle game by a relatively small studio called Bulkhead Interactive. (Note I said 'indie-feeling'. The game itself was actually published by Square Enix. Good for them.) In the game you are put into the shoes of an engineer called Ava Turing (golf clap) as she wakes up late from her cryosleep. The rest of her team have already alighted to their destination, the moon Europa, and forgot to leave contact details. Ava, alongside the your helpful AI assistant T.O.M travel to the planet only to find that her team already set up their prefab base but in a very peculiar alignment. (Almost like every room was designed to be a puzzle.) As you travel through these 'challenge rooms' it becomes clear to Ava that this complex has been set up in such a way as to prevent a computer from breaching it's depths. The puzzles are meant to only be solvable by a human mind. I won't go too much further in the events of the story, but with a name like 'The Turing Test' you can likely take some educated guesses.
I played through that game a year or so back and it proved to be an enjoyable enough puzzle romp, but something about the concept stuck in my mind and it isn't just the fact that the entire plot is bogus. Seriously, the fact that the entire complex is built to keep out an AI makes no sense. afterall, the game's puzzles all require logical deduction in order to solve them. What's that one thing that computers are infinitely better than humans at again? Oh that's right, logical deduction. Or maybe the architects were relying on the fact that the AI in question is unit-based and therefore lacks the ambulatory movement required to trudge through the base. Although that is made moot by the fact that almost every room is fitted with an open circuit camera. And some of those cameras even have guns attached, for some reason. It just makes me think that someone failed to think this whole thing through...
But I digress. The real reason that 'The Turing Test' has wormed itself into the back of my mind for so long is because it introduced me to the concept of 'The Chinese Room'. Before I had heard of that, I always had trouble wrapping my head around 'The Turing Test'. (The thought experiment not the game.) Now, far be it for me to refute an idea proposed by 'the father of modern science' Alan Turing, but I never found his 'test' satisfactory. Even by 'thought experiment' standards I can't help but find it questionable to conclude that if a computer can fool someone into thinking it's a human than it has established some form of artificial intelligence. Of course the idea itself is more nuanced than that, but not much more. So when I heard about John Searle's critique, which he formed in the shape of his own thought experiment, I found myself intrigued.
In 1980, John Searle had his paper "Minds, Brains and Programs" published by Cambridge university's peer-reviewed scientific journal: Behavioural and Brain Sciences. (Great name for the journal, by the way. Really rolls off the tongue.) In this paper the philosopher refutes the possibility of what he refers to as Strong AI (What is now known as general AI): "The appropriately programmed computer with the right inputs and outputs would thereby have a mind in exactly the same sense (as) human beings have minds." He opposes the idea that if you can create a computer that acts like a human sufficiently enough to pass The Turing Test then you have effectively created a mind. To explain this stance he created: The Chinese Room.
The Chinese Room is a thought experiment that was devised to answer the question, can an AI machine experience information in the same way that humans do? Or, can AI truly 'understand' in the same way that humans do. It is conducted like this: You are placed inside of a room with nothing but a rule book and a bunch of boxes with Chinese symbols on them (Any language that you do not understand could substitute here.) The rule book tells you how to process those symbols. At some point someone outside the room feeds you a batch of Chinese symbols on a little piece of paper, you work through them and return another batch of Chinese symbols. Unbeknownst to you, the test operators call the little batch of symbols that they put in 'questions' and the ones they receive 'answers'. The rule book is the 'computer program', the boxes are the 'computer database', and you are the 'computer.' Or the central processing unit.
That is the setup for The Chinese Room. It is that simple. But what is the point of all this? Well, eventually you will become so effective and efficient at writing these responses to the observer that your answers have become indistinguishable from the writings of a native Chinese speaker. But at the end of the day, you still do not understand Chinese. All of your understanding for Chinese is for the formal syntactical objects. But the essential part of the mind, it's defining characteristic, is it's ability to hold mental contents as well as syntax. It allows us to attach meaning to things that we see and experience in the world. In summary, The Chinese Room argument is that programs exist entirely in syntactical entities, whereas minds have semantics. Therefore the two can never truly meet.
As far as John Searle is concerned, a computer executing a program cannot have a mind, understanding or consciousness despite how advanced that computer may be or become. This relates to The Turing Test by telling us that the ability to fool a human observer is not grounds upon which to declare general intelligence, but rather just grounds upon which we can commend the ingenuity of the algorithms author. The logic is very sound when you consider the computing technology that is available for the public today. Everything, from phones, to drones to computers are dependant on an input in order to produce their output. However, some argue that whilst The Chinese Room argument might hold water for today's tech, it fails to address the tech of tomorrow.
You may have heard of some of the amazing game-playing AI's that bored technicians throw together now and then. I'm not talking about that one AI that beat all the world champions at DoTA, or even about Deep Blue, the iconic chess playing AI who bested a grandmaster or two in it's time. No, I'm referring to an AI who's achievements topped even theirs. AlphaGo. Go is one of the oldest and most complicated strategy games ever devised. Dating back to 4th century BC China (at least), Go is an adversarial game wherein it is the goal of each player to surround their opponent's units. I'm sure there's more to it than that, but honestly I've watched 5 tutorials and I don't understand it. But I'll tell you someone who does seem to understand it, Google's AlphaGO does!
AlphaGo is an AI that was built with the lofty goal of mastering the game of GO. I call this lofty because many consider GO a game so complex that it eclipses even Chess. There are thousands of possible strategies that have been devised in 2.5 thousand years that this game has been around, and much of those strategies require empathetic decisions as much as logical ones. Yet Google persisted to train the AI with deep learning algorithms with the intention of pitting their baby against world champion Lee Sedol. The results were impressive to say the least. AlphaGo beat Sedol in 4/5 games. Expert onlookers commended AlphaGo's playstyle, remarking about how they saw the computer execute strategies that had never been seen before. This was a computer that was built in order to complete a task but was left to it's own devices to figure out how to do it, and it created unprecedented techniques in order to do so. Some would say that this means that the game of Go might posses more inhuman knowledge to it than human knowledge; implying that AIs like AlphaGo and Deep Blue display levels of strategic planning that would require super human levels of 'understanding' to pull off.
Other philosophers would disagree with such bold statements. Philosopher and mathematician Gottfried Leibniz for example. He may not have been around to see the modern age of tech, having died in the 18th century, but as with any good philosopher his words still ring with relevance. When talking about machines, Gottfried comments "Supposing there were a machine, so constructed as to think, feel, and have perception, it might be conceived as increased in size, while keeping the same proportions, so that one might go into it as into a mill." He raises this hypothetical in order to highlight that "Upon examining it's interior" we would "Find only parts which work one upon another, and never anything by which to explain a perception. Thus it is in simple substance, and not in compound or in a machine, that perception must be sought for". His conclusion is somewhat similar to Searle, no matter how advanced the operations of the machine become you only need to see the workings to see that the machine is merely "Parts which work one upon another", and not some undiscovered blueprint for the mind. Those who believe in the computational theory of the mind might take umbrage with this line of thought, but there are are a few more direct critiques I want to focus on right now.
Some people have taken to refute The Chinese Room in the only way philosophers truly know how, to out logic them in their own theory. Some people insist that strong AI is only a matter of time and that The Chinese Room doesn't debunk this assertion but rather bolsters it. (From this point responses get very "Nu-uh" sounding, so you're going to have to bear with me.) Philosophers argue that whilst the person in The Chinese Room does not understand Chinese, the system as a whole does. This is supported by the assertion that the human mind does not create intelligence but rather causes it, like a machine of its own. Searle pooh-pooh's this with the argument the even the system could not make the leap from syntax to semantics. Even if the person in the room memorized all the formal rules and processes to the point where he answer questions without help and even facilitate conversation, thus becoming the system all by himself, he still would be unable to understand Chinese. He only carries out the rules and can't associate meaning to the symbols. Were you to stop feeding him an input, he would be unable to provide a coherent output.
Then there is the argument that, instead of manipulating Chinese symbols, we could envision a computer that simulates neuronal firings in the brain of a Chinese person. The computer would operate in the exact same way as a brain and therefore that brain would understand Chinese. Searle merely incorporates this theory into his thought experiment by saying that he could introduce water pipes and valves for our poor room dweller to represent neuronal firing. The person in the room would have instructions to guide water through the pipes to imitate the brain of a Chinese person, but they still stubbornly refuse to take a language course. Those are the sorts of conclusions you come to when you argue with semantics.
For my part, I happen to find the Searle's original argument compelling. There are no computers that come close to operating on the same level that our brain do, but I have to concede that doesn't mean there never will be one. If we could understand the exact workings that would be required to create a mind then we would created such a machine already. As it just so happens, AI developers are hard at work on figuring that out right now. Admittedly, we're not quite there yet. All those incredible AI feats that you see on the news are almost always the result of deep learning algorithms. Impressive stuff, but very methodical and logical, nothing that transcends the bounds of current tech.
I suppose that's what were all waiting for, that turning point when humanity discovers the secret to creating life. Mechanical life, but life nonetheless. Is that even possible? Who knows. Until the time comes, this train of thought remains the domain of the philosophers and Elon Musk's of the world. But that still doesn't take the fun out of amateur theorizing. Ultimately, I like the feeling of comfort out of accepting that The Chinese Room is valid, but that nagging part of me can't help but remind me that it is the height of naivety to believe in one's distinct supremacy. What do you think?
In the past I have covered topics with very tenuous links to the world of gaming. I just think it is nice to mix things up every now and again. With that said, this topic is going to be one that very much stretches the definition of 'gaming blog'. Don't take this blog to mean I am finding myself feeling limited with my chosen specialization, nor that I am running out of topics to cover. I love gaming, always have, always will. But I also find theoretical teach unassailably cool. So don't be surprised if you see more blogs come out-of-left field like this one. Now I've got that out of the way, let me ask you: Have you ever played: The Turing Test?
I played through that game a year or so back and it proved to be an enjoyable enough puzzle romp, but something about the concept stuck in my mind and it isn't just the fact that the entire plot is bogus. Seriously, the fact that the entire complex is built to keep out an AI makes no sense. afterall, the game's puzzles all require logical deduction in order to solve them. What's that one thing that computers are infinitely better than humans at again? Oh that's right, logical deduction. Or maybe the architects were relying on the fact that the AI in question is unit-based and therefore lacks the ambulatory movement required to trudge through the base. Although that is made moot by the fact that almost every room is fitted with an open circuit camera. And some of those cameras even have guns attached, for some reason. It just makes me think that someone failed to think this whole thing through...
In 1980, John Searle had his paper "Minds, Brains and Programs" published by Cambridge university's peer-reviewed scientific journal: Behavioural and Brain Sciences. (Great name for the journal, by the way. Really rolls off the tongue.) In this paper the philosopher refutes the possibility of what he refers to as Strong AI (What is now known as general AI): "The appropriately programmed computer with the right inputs and outputs would thereby have a mind in exactly the same sense (as) human beings have minds." He opposes the idea that if you can create a computer that acts like a human sufficiently enough to pass The Turing Test then you have effectively created a mind. To explain this stance he created: The Chinese Room.
The Chinese Room is a thought experiment that was devised to answer the question, can an AI machine experience information in the same way that humans do? Or, can AI truly 'understand' in the same way that humans do. It is conducted like this: You are placed inside of a room with nothing but a rule book and a bunch of boxes with Chinese symbols on them (Any language that you do not understand could substitute here.) The rule book tells you how to process those symbols. At some point someone outside the room feeds you a batch of Chinese symbols on a little piece of paper, you work through them and return another batch of Chinese symbols. Unbeknownst to you, the test operators call the little batch of symbols that they put in 'questions' and the ones they receive 'answers'. The rule book is the 'computer program', the boxes are the 'computer database', and you are the 'computer.' Or the central processing unit.
That is the setup for The Chinese Room. It is that simple. But what is the point of all this? Well, eventually you will become so effective and efficient at writing these responses to the observer that your answers have become indistinguishable from the writings of a native Chinese speaker. But at the end of the day, you still do not understand Chinese. All of your understanding for Chinese is for the formal syntactical objects. But the essential part of the mind, it's defining characteristic, is it's ability to hold mental contents as well as syntax. It allows us to attach meaning to things that we see and experience in the world. In summary, The Chinese Room argument is that programs exist entirely in syntactical entities, whereas minds have semantics. Therefore the two can never truly meet.
As far as John Searle is concerned, a computer executing a program cannot have a mind, understanding or consciousness despite how advanced that computer may be or become. This relates to The Turing Test by telling us that the ability to fool a human observer is not grounds upon which to declare general intelligence, but rather just grounds upon which we can commend the ingenuity of the algorithms author. The logic is very sound when you consider the computing technology that is available for the public today. Everything, from phones, to drones to computers are dependant on an input in order to produce their output. However, some argue that whilst The Chinese Room argument might hold water for today's tech, it fails to address the tech of tomorrow.
You may have heard of some of the amazing game-playing AI's that bored technicians throw together now and then. I'm not talking about that one AI that beat all the world champions at DoTA, or even about Deep Blue, the iconic chess playing AI who bested a grandmaster or two in it's time. No, I'm referring to an AI who's achievements topped even theirs. AlphaGo. Go is one of the oldest and most complicated strategy games ever devised. Dating back to 4th century BC China (at least), Go is an adversarial game wherein it is the goal of each player to surround their opponent's units. I'm sure there's more to it than that, but honestly I've watched 5 tutorials and I don't understand it. But I'll tell you someone who does seem to understand it, Google's AlphaGO does!
Other philosophers would disagree with such bold statements. Philosopher and mathematician Gottfried Leibniz for example. He may not have been around to see the modern age of tech, having died in the 18th century, but as with any good philosopher his words still ring with relevance. When talking about machines, Gottfried comments "Supposing there were a machine, so constructed as to think, feel, and have perception, it might be conceived as increased in size, while keeping the same proportions, so that one might go into it as into a mill." He raises this hypothetical in order to highlight that "Upon examining it's interior" we would "Find only parts which work one upon another, and never anything by which to explain a perception. Thus it is in simple substance, and not in compound or in a machine, that perception must be sought for". His conclusion is somewhat similar to Searle, no matter how advanced the operations of the machine become you only need to see the workings to see that the machine is merely "Parts which work one upon another", and not some undiscovered blueprint for the mind. Those who believe in the computational theory of the mind might take umbrage with this line of thought, but there are are a few more direct critiques I want to focus on right now.
Some people have taken to refute The Chinese Room in the only way philosophers truly know how, to out logic them in their own theory. Some people insist that strong AI is only a matter of time and that The Chinese Room doesn't debunk this assertion but rather bolsters it. (From this point responses get very "Nu-uh" sounding, so you're going to have to bear with me.) Philosophers argue that whilst the person in The Chinese Room does not understand Chinese, the system as a whole does. This is supported by the assertion that the human mind does not create intelligence but rather causes it, like a machine of its own. Searle pooh-pooh's this with the argument the even the system could not make the leap from syntax to semantics. Even if the person in the room memorized all the formal rules and processes to the point where he answer questions without help and even facilitate conversation, thus becoming the system all by himself, he still would be unable to understand Chinese. He only carries out the rules and can't associate meaning to the symbols. Were you to stop feeding him an input, he would be unable to provide a coherent output.
Then there is the argument that, instead of manipulating Chinese symbols, we could envision a computer that simulates neuronal firings in the brain of a Chinese person. The computer would operate in the exact same way as a brain and therefore that brain would understand Chinese. Searle merely incorporates this theory into his thought experiment by saying that he could introduce water pipes and valves for our poor room dweller to represent neuronal firing. The person in the room would have instructions to guide water through the pipes to imitate the brain of a Chinese person, but they still stubbornly refuse to take a language course. Those are the sorts of conclusions you come to when you argue with semantics.
For my part, I happen to find the Searle's original argument compelling. There are no computers that come close to operating on the same level that our brain do, but I have to concede that doesn't mean there never will be one. If we could understand the exact workings that would be required to create a mind then we would created such a machine already. As it just so happens, AI developers are hard at work on figuring that out right now. Admittedly, we're not quite there yet. All those incredible AI feats that you see on the news are almost always the result of deep learning algorithms. Impressive stuff, but very methodical and logical, nothing that transcends the bounds of current tech.
I suppose that's what were all waiting for, that turning point when humanity discovers the secret to creating life. Mechanical life, but life nonetheless. Is that even possible? Who knows. Until the time comes, this train of thought remains the domain of the philosophers and Elon Musk's of the world. But that still doesn't take the fun out of amateur theorizing. Ultimately, I like the feeling of comfort out of accepting that The Chinese Room is valid, but that nagging part of me can't help but remind me that it is the height of naivety to believe in one's distinct supremacy. What do you think?
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