A Change in Approach – Doing Autoethnography Through Playthrough Recording

A brief update to how I conduct my autoethnography.

Since the start of my PhD, and the beginning of this data collection period, I had proposed to conduct an autoethnography that required me to narratively write down my experience playing these games, focusing on my emotions/feelings and thoughts. This is how I have had indeed conducted my autoethnography for those games I have already played and documented to this blog.

However, as this data collection has continued and I still have plenty more games to play, I have reached a point in which I felt like it was difficult to remain immersed in the world of the game. Up until now, I had been having to play the games and then once a point I wanted to say came up, I would then have to, in essence, “pause” the game and shift to a separate document to construct my thoughts. But, it had started to feel like I was almost writing more as a researcher than a player as my mindset had already shifted from being immersed in the game to writing something academic. Therefore, it started to feel a bit inaccurate to my actual experience, and was not capturing effectively capturing the initial reactions to the game’s content as I was hoping.

Following from conversations and another ethical review, I have since been conducting my autoethnography by way of recording playthoughs, using a microphone to generate a recording of my stream of consciousness whilst playing and utilise a transcript from that. Conducting the autoethnography in this way has proved to be more appropriate in keeping me positioned as a player (I guess taking inspiration from all of the YouTube and Twitch gamers).

So, my autoethnography has been updated in its approach to now utilise a recorded gameplay practice capturing via microphone my thoughts and feelings as opposed to “pausing” and “writing.” I have used OBS Studio and its closed capturing system to generate a transcript whilst playing these games.

Side Note: I believe this speaks to a kind of flexibility required to do autoethnography, having to be ready to change and adapt when the writing of your experience starts to feel performed or mis-constructed.So it is important to address the everchanging reflexive autoethnographer in research.

All future posts around games I have played during this autoethnography has been conducted using this new practice, with the transcript “proof-read” and then posted. This will be the continued approach going forward throughout conducting my AE.

A Musings on A Research Theme: Disruption

A take on the Research centres theme of disruption, but I combine it with ‘modding’ and including sexual content.

Modding & Disruption: A Practice Emerging Explicit Sexualities

A more focused, shortened version of this post can be found on the BCMCR’s website: BLOG POST.


Fairly recently, I had the pleasure of being an audience member at a conference held by the MultiPlay network. The theme of this conference was revolved around “Sex and Romance in Video Games” – one closely related to my own research. But I say “audience member” like it was a physically lived experience – like much of academic life still today, it was a virtual conference. Remember the first few days of the pandemic in which we had to translate all our practices to virtual-based learning – a “disruption” in its own right? For some reason, I do not anymore – perhaps that disruption had brought forth something beneficial that I’ve come to adopt and can no longer think of a “time before.” I live in an online space now, with a new ‘lifestyle.’ Whilst this opening may seem like it has no relation to what the title suggests about the content of this post, this is purposeful if not disruptive itself. For me, to say “disruption” outloud almost sounds negative, as when you search the term up online, it seems to allude to a disturbance in an ‘accepted state’ – something occurs that ruins the “moment.” But I think the allegory of this reflective introduction is one that shows what can occur through a “disruption”: I have found a new identity, and my approach and interaction with online spaces has changed for the better. So, perhaps there is some value to be found in disruption than just an interference that leaves us in a worse state than before. So, I ask, can disruption be a way to bring about change for the better?

Provoked by my own love for the idea of “chaos”, in my research lately I have been thinking about how sex and sexuality attribute to kinds of disruptions within gaming, especially when it did not exist in the space originally. This was even further inspired by the conference’s keynote presentation, which had discussed the use of ‘mods’ in the experience of games. Mods: modifications made by gamers, developers and alike, that bring about a change in how a game operates or is presented (Sotamaa, 2010; Wysocki, 2015). Hold on, did I not just define disruption as something that brings about a change within an “accepted state”? So then, the act of modifying a game – whether changing mechanics for fun, desiring a particular character appearance, or even fixing problems neglected by developers – is itself a form of disruption. Through ‘modding’ a game, a new experience is made for players that wasn’t originally there (Postigo, 2008: 60) – disruption must have value then, as it has transformed our interaction within the game, most likely for the better. I find it even more baffling that my view of mods in terms of disruption is different to parts of the games industry. My personal perspective of modding aligns with the idea that it allows for more interaction from fans that ultimately becomes a meaningful and valuable output (see Sotamaa, 2010; Hong, 2013; Hong and Chen, 2014) – especially when ‘modders’ solve issues neglected by a developer or offer an experience absent from the game originally. Yet much of the industry finds modding disruptive in a negative sense, as by using ‘modded content’ you are found to be in violation of an End User Licence Agreement (EULA) (Wysocki, 2015: 208). So generally, the view of mods in terms of its disruption is dependent on your position.

Gaming culture is no stranger to disruption though. Generally, if you are going by a firm view of games, to play one is to accept there are certain limitations and aims – there is an unspoken expectation to follow a kind of ‘rule system’ but whether those expectations are followed is something else entirely. Take the idea of cheating – you “disrupt” the game’s accepted normalcy and exploit the space to “win” in some way. A self-serving form of disruption as the ‘cheater’ finds value in knowing they will “win” no matter what. What about trolling or griefing: purposely ruining the play experience for others through certain actions (Condis, 2018: 16-25; Jørgensen and Karlsen, 2018: 2) – again, disruption is given value through self-fulfilling behaviours. These are transgressive acts that could even be punishable in some game spaces, but to those cheatingtrolling or griefing, they find entertainment in their disruption. Like modding, they transform the experience…just not for the better. I am not here to justify these actions by arguing that we should think about them in this “positive, transformative” view: I look upon them as disruptive to my interaction with games as I do when I am subject to homophobic abuse when playing online games. What I am alluding to is the point I made at the start: disruption brings about a change that alters our experience, but in the case of these acts compared to modding, the “illusion” of playing a game for fun breaks and suddenly the game is no longer enjoyable…

Modding, though, brings about a new engagement and it is within this overlap of sex, sexuality and modding that I am most interested in discussion the idea of disruption. Sex in game spaces has disrupted our interaction in a myriad of ways: birthed relationships, brought about socio-political change, or even be utilised as a weapon of violence. This is not just something particularly based in modern video games, as these behaviours go even further back to the days of Multi-User Dungeons (MUDs) and the early online networks (see Brathwaite, 2013). However, the use of mods that feature sexual content – or any employing aspects relating to sexuality – has resulted in the emergence of sex within games that it did not feature originally.

Already we can start to pull the threads of disruption at this as there has once again been a change in the “norm” of the game. The most infamous example I could offer immediately is that which this blog is named after: The GTA: San Andreas “Hot Coffee” mod, where players were able to access a minigame that featured a playable sex scene. It goes further than that though, to something I alluded to at the beginning: a new identity and engagement. Modders have gone to further lengths by creating nude skins, create their own relationship and sex mechanics and more for games that did not feature any. It is not inaccurate to state that the mainstream industry is quite prudish when it comes to sex – rating boards, censorship, and other structures that have aided in viewing sex as obscene and taboo. That is not to say that all sexual mods are “appropriate” but my point is that through these mods, the game space has been disrupted to bring out a form of sexuality. I return to the conference’s keynote speech: modders are themselves content-producers and through the use of sexual mods are either expanding the “reach” of games or providing some form of juvenile entertainment (see Wysocki, 2015 – keynote speaker). Whichever, or both, there is still a disruption occurring.

We can sum up the relationship between sex and game modding with a passage from Wysocki (2015: 206-207):

‘So modders undertake this labor to add content they desire to engage in, which they feel is missing from their gaming experience. If the developers will not program it in, they will put in the time to ensure that they get it.’

If a game is not providing an adequate sexual experience for players, then players bring it upon themselves to generate the experience, especially with an industry that still has its reservations about sex and sexual subculture. That’s not to say there is no explicit sexuality offered by mainstream games and companies: ‘sexual content in video games ranges from the completely abstracted to the explicit’ (Brathwaite, 2013: 11). The problem is that this “explicit sexual content” is often still hidden from view (an easy example to offer would be God of War 3 that featured topless women but cut away to a shot of NPCs during the sexual encounter (Wysocki, 2015: 207)). So, if the industry won’t “go all the way,” why then don’t the players themselves instead?

This is not a piece that justifies the entire practice and output of sexual modding as, like the allegory of the conference’s keynote speech: when you stare into the abyss, the abyss stares back into you. There are some sexual mods that can be just as disruptive and damaging to our play experience, and ourselves, as that of griefing or cheating. The point I am trying to get at is that the generation of sexual mods shows a desire for their place in video games – and players are willing to disrupt the “original state” of the game to get it. Having the inclusion of sexual mods has allowed for sexual identities to exist within the space of games in a way previously inaccessible to them, approaches and interaction to games has changed. That can’t entirely be a bad thing, right?

People, players and alike, have found a new value in this disruptive practice of modding: sexual liberation and expression. Yes, it is not perfect and always ‘positive’ (I can second that notion of the abyss staring into you…) but the general idea of modding bringing about a form of identity and culture in a space that had sought to deny them of it is a pretty meaningful idea, especially when sexuality has had a difficult relationship with games. So, taking (sexual) modding as a disruptive practice that allows the emergence of explicit sexuality, I ask again: can disruption be a way to bring about change for the better?…

…Relatively anyway.


A Post-Reflection Rant:

There’s more to be said about this, I know there is. I can already see how power dynamics may relate to this, the erasure of sexual identities – particularly that of a queer nature – and the accessibility to (safe) sexual spaces. Perhaps I’ll return to this in the future, continue pulling at the threads to see where this idea of sexual modding and disruption may take me…


References and Further Readings:

Brathwaite, B. (2013) Sex in Video Games. s.l.: Brenda Brathwaite

Condis, M. (2018) Gaming Masculinity: Trolls, Fake Geeks & the Gendered Battle for Online Culture. Iowa City: University of Iowa Press.

Hong, R. (2013) Game Modding, Prosumerism and Neoliberal Labor Practices. International Journal of Communication, 7, pp. 984-1002. Available at https://ijoc.org/index.php/ijoc/article/view/1659/900 [accessed 16 Feb 2022].

Hong, R. and Chen, V. (2014) Become an Ideal Co-Creator: Web Materiality and Intensive Laboring Practices in Game Modding. New Media & Society, 16(2) 290-305. Available from: http://dx.doi.org/10.1177/1461444813480095

Jenkins, H. (2006) Fans, Bloggers and Gamers: Exploring Participatory Culture. New York: New York University Press.

Jenkins, H. (2008) Convergence Culture: Where Old and New Media Collide. New York: New York University Press.

Jørgensen, K. and Karlsen, F. (2018) Introduction: Playful Transgression. In: K. Jørgensen and F. Karlsen (eds.) Transgression in Games and Play. Cambridge: The MIT Press, pp. 1-9

Postigo, H. (2007) Of Mods and Modders: Chasing Down the Value of Fan-Based Digital Game Modifications. Games and Culture, 2(4), pp. 300-313. Available at: http://dx.doi.org/10.1177/1555412007307955

Postigo, H. (2008) Video Game Appropriation through Modifications: Attitudes Concerning Intellectual Property among Modders and Fans. Convergence, 14(1), pp. 59-74. Available at: http://dx.doi.org/10.1177/1354856507084419

Sotamaa, O. (2010) When the Game Is Not Enough: Motivations and Practices Among Computer Game Modding Culture. Games and Culture, 5(3) 239-255. Available at: http://dx.doi.org/10.1177/155541200935976

Wysocki, M. (2015) It’s Not Just the Coffee That’s Hot: Modding Sexual Content In Video Games. In: M. Wysocki and E. Lauteria (eds.) Rated M for Mature: Sex and Sexuality in Video Games. New York: Bloomsbury Academic, pp. 194-209.

Leisure Suit Larry is just as “Iconic” as Mario…Technically

A take on why Leisure Suit Larry is an iconic as Mario…just for the wrong reasons…

When it comes to their IP, my favourite may be Zelda followed by Pokémon but I do occasionally enjoy a bit of Mario. I mean, who couldn’t, we are talking about one of, if not THE, video game icon. Recognisable red cap, moustache, a (questionable) ‘Italian’ accent – let’s not get into the stereotypes of Nintendo characterisations today – Mario is a face that most can know even if you’re not into video games. Aside from the look, Super Mario games are also iconic with their platforming, music, enemies. Basically, Mario is truly the definition of a video game icon, as everything follows a particular style. Safe to say that the games and the character are nothing short of video game iconography. But, in my travels into pornographic and sexual video games, I would argue that they have their own video game icon: Leisure Suit Larry.


Cover Art for 1997 Leisure Suit Larry Collection (Sierra Entertainment).

Okay so before I get into arguing why I would class Larry here another (albeit it questionably) video game icon, I need to do a bit of clarification.

If you have heard of any games with the title Leisure Suit Larry as a part of it, you’ve most likely heard of how these games are…not exactly the most politically correct or feature positive representation. So, lets clear out the closet: Leisure Suit Larry games are incredibly misogynistic, offensive, crude, are plentiful of sexploitation and, truthfully, the list goes on. Trust me, I’ve played a little of a few and have had to walk away from the audacity of its treatment of women especially, but also the absurdity of its comedic tone. 

So let me be clear: BY SAYING ICONIC THIS IS NOT A JUSTIFICATION FOR THESE GAMES OR THEIR REPRESENTATIONS.

Instead, what this post is suggesting is that we can look at Larry and see similarities to other video game icons like Mario in terms of consistent visual iconography and game play. I’m sure I’ll be doing a whole bunch of posts in the future about how pornographic video games like the Leisure Suit Larry series are immensely degrading of women – which will be an absolute treat to DESTORY a game…academically – but I couldn’t help noticing how these games adopted similar and uniform aspects. Therefore, I’m making a point that Larry is, technically, just as iconic as Mario – just in unfortunately the wrong ways


A Brief History – The Series

One of the things about game icons like Mario is that they have a backlog of games that have aided in shooting them to game superstardom. In Mario’s case, that was all the years of platform games, all the way to the series’ now mixture of games (Who would’ve thought we would have Mario-themed golf video games!). Either way, there is an established history for the series that helps construct the icon. Larry can be thought of in the same way.

The inclusion or noticing of sex in games is not something knew – academics like Brathwaite (2013: 41-91) found that sex was something always a part of games whether from phallic arcade joystick controls (which I will now never look at the same) all the way to modern consoles and is just embodied differently. Developed by Al Lowe, Larry enters gaming around the 1980s, of the days of personal computers entering the household (Mills, 2015: 92), and since then have continued to be a series of adult adventure games to its most recent release in 2020: Leisure Suit Larry: Wet Dreams Dry Twice, developed by CrazyBunch.

In the main series, there is (as far as I am currently aware) 11 games that have been released, with a 12th that never came to be published:

  • Leisure Suit Larry in the Land of the Lounge Lizards (Sierra On-Line, 1987)
  • Leisure Suit Larry Goes Looking for Love (in Several Wrong Places) (Sierra On-Line, 1988)
  • Leisure Suit Larry III: Passionate Patti in Pursuit of the Pulsating Pectorals (Sierra On-Line, 1989)
  • Leisure Suit Larry 5: Passionate Patti Does a Little Undercover Work (Sierra On-Line, 1991)
  • Leisure Suit Larry 6: Shape Up or Slip Out! (Sierra On-Line, 1993)
  • Leisure Suit Larry: Love for Sail! (Sierra On-Line, 1996)
  • Leisure Suit Larry: Magna Cum Laude (High Voltage Software, 2004)
  •  Leisure Suit Larry: Box Office Bust (Team17, 2009)
  • Leisure Suit Larry: Reloaded (N-Fusion Interactive, 2013)
  • Leisure Suit Larry: Wet Dreams Don’t Dry (CrazyBunch, 2018)
  • Leisure Suit Larry: Wet Dreams Dry Twice (CrazyBunch, 2020).

A Recognisable Character

Okay so I need to clarify something again: there are technically two Larry characters, but also not? The series up until the release of 2004’s Leisure Suit Larry: Magna Cum Laude had followed the exploits of Larry Laffer, which then the series then on shifted to follow Larry Lovage – Larry Laffer’s nephew. So yeah, technically two separate characters but near enough the same one.

Even though they are named differently, their characterisation is pretty similar: a balding middle-aged male (or what looks to be a middle-aged man) who mostly wears a white suit and is unsuccessfully attempting to seduce young women. Its this appearance I mean that gives it the icon status in the same way we all associate a red cap and blue overalls as something Mario-themed. When game series do this, it does add to their whole brand – logical really since developers would want you to immediately know it’s their work and what to expect just from seeing an image of a character. Arguably, this design of Larry has not changed, even with the slight difference in name. Even if more games continue being made, we would be able to recognise these games just from the simple look of a balding middle-aged man wearing a white suit – then again, that could just be me given my line of research…

If seeing a blue hedgehog makes you think of Sonic the Hedgehog then clearly there’s an attempt here to making you think of Larry when seeing such a man in a suit. So, even though it’s a pretty basic point, I would say that Larry is an icon from a visual perspective.


Same Story, Same Misogyny

Like I already said, these games feature many degrading messages about women and female sexuality – we are talking about games that have gone through various political and cultural movements to the point that you can recognise its current humour as being that of the 80s/90s style (and to some outdated, naturally). So, I won’t go into detail about the narratives for each game themselves – I’ll leave that for future posts – but generally each game is about the unsuccessful attempts Larry makes at bedding women. I’m not kidding, that’s pretty much what they all come down to. So, in the same guise as the traditionally used Mario narrative where Mario must save the princess (Peach, Daisy, WHOEVER!), Larry games are always about the sexual conquests of its titular character.

In the same way that Larry’s look is recognisable and consistent then so are the games themselves, even with the same misogyny…”HOW WONDERFUL” (yes that is complete sarcasm in case you didn’t pick up on it…)

I’m not here to give like a personal review of these games (because it’s pretty apparent how I feel about certain aspects to them) but Leisure Suit Larry games have clearly been built upon a formula that has been implemented throughout all its games in the same way other video game icons and their respective series have been.

In short: Leisure Suit Larry is a video games icon of a series of the same stature as ones like Mario, albeit in ways that are not the most…positive. I know this post seems really bare, and not some deep analytical piece, but its not meant to. Take it as musings on something I came across whilst I research. Despite my personal reservations about these games, its hard for me to deny that through its stylistic choices, structure, design and history, that its consistency and recognisable elements make Larry a video games icon…technically anyway. 


References:

Brathwaite, B. (2013) Sex in Video Games. s.l.: Brenda Brathwaite.

Mills, D. (2015) Explicit Sexual Content in Early Console Video Games. In: M. Wysocki and E. Lauteria (eds.) Rated M for Mature: Sex and Sexuality in Video Games. New York: Bloomsbury Academic, pp. 75-101.

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