Book Review: Reality Is Broken - Why Games Make Us Better and How They Can Change the World by Jane McGonigal

I have never felt less like a human being than while reading this book. I don't mind video-games, I find them mildly diverting. I've never gotten in to massively multiplayer online games (unless you count Twitter). I just don't see what's appealing about them. Why would I want a bunch of teenagers screaming racial slurs at me when I'm trying to relax?

The book says "reality is broken" - but it left me wondering if, instead, I am broken.

The book is endlessly quotable.

The truth is this: in today’s society, computer and video games are fulfilling genuine human needs that the real world is currently unable to satisfy. Games are providing rewards that reality is not. They are teaching and inspiring and engaging us in ways that reality is not. They are bringing us together in ways that reality is not.

It's the same reason people get sucked into soap operas. Or sports. Or novels. There is a clear storyline with very little chance of personal trauma.

The central thesis of the book is that games can be used to better the world:

When Herodotus looked back, he saw games that were large-scale systems, designed to organize masses of people and make an entire civilization more resilient. I look forward to a future in which massively multiplayer games are once again designed in order to reorganize society in better ways, and to get seemingly miraculous things done.

But that ignores that it is far easier to destroy than create. That's how the Q game works. By telling people they can smash things without having to build a replacement.

Throughout the book, I felt challenged on what I enjoy about gaming. Take this:

Games make us happy because they are hard work that we choose for ourselves, and it turns out that almost nothing makes us happier than good, hard work.

Is this why I dislike most games? I'm find it interesting to play the "metagame" of working out how to automate success. I like looking for the algorithm behind the game. Once I've worked out the trick, I quickly abandon a game.

Fourth, and finally, we crave meaning, or the chance to be a part of something larger than ourselves. We want to feel curiosity, awe, and wonder about things that unfold on epic scales. And most importantly, we want to belong to and contribute to something that has lasting significance beyond our own individual lives.

I don't think sport is meaningful. But I understand how people following a team feel like they are seeing things "unfold on epic scales". I feel totally alien to this way of belonging. I'm not saying I'm right - I'm saying I don't experience that feeling of team bonding, and it makes me a little sad.

It's worth noting that the book is several years old, and some of its thoughts about gaming haven't aged well:

Games, after all, are the quintessential autotelic activity. We only ever play because we want to. Games don’t fuel our appetite for extrinsic reward: they don’t pay us, they don’t advance our careers, and they don’t help us accumulate luxury goods.

We now see (some) games as addictive; not voluntary. And with the increase in virtual goods, they often do let players accumulate luxuries. Or, at least, their simulacrum.

I'll admit, there were a few bits which I did connect to.

In fact, it’s not that much of a stretch to say that, for many, the primary reason they play Lexulous is to have an excuse to talk to their mom every day.

That's how I chat with my mother-in-law! A Scrabble clone with an in-game chat! Maybe I'm more normal than I thought? But then I read something like:

NCAA Football 10, you’re not just playing as your favorite college team, you’re playing in service of your favorite college team. You’re actively contributing to their reputation

But, of course, you aren't! It is as hollow as cheering at a match. You feel like you're making a difference, but you're not. The porn-star on screen isn't really moaning for you. It's a trick to make your brain feel happy. And, I think, I'd rather be right than happy.

It flips into my least favourite form of gaming. Gamification of chores and school:

Every chore grants you a customized amount of experience points, virtual gold, treasure, avatar power-ups, or points that increase your virtual skills and abilities: plus ten dexterity points for dusting without knocking anything off the shelves, for example, or plus five stamina points for taking out all three kinds of recycling.

I can't think of anything less motivating. School tried something similar with house points and I just checked out of it. It isn't about reward; it is about control.

The whole thing makes me shudder with revulsion. Take this example:

Take two ordinary commercial flights, flying at the same time in opposite directions between the same two airports. Pit them against each other in an epic battle of online wits and creativity. Passengers spend the duration of the flight working together to earn as many points for their plane as possible. When both planes land, everyone on the plane with the highest score wins.

(“Planemates” might not be a recognized English word yet, but that’s simply because we’ve been woefully underutilizing planes as social spaces.)

All I can think of is that sounds utterly devoid of meaning. Points are pointless. Why would I want to socialise with - or compete with - utter strangers? I just don't see the motivation behind it. I don't want to be in a gang. I don't want my team to win. Like the old joke goes - they would score so many more goals if both teams just worked together!

When we have community, we feel what anthropologists call “communitas,” or spirit of community. Communitas is a powerful sense of togetherness, solidarity, and social connection. And it protects against loneliness and alienation.

Why don't I feel this emotion? What is it inside me that doesn't trust communities? Why am I able to survive and thrive without it?

There is an air of late-noughties enthusiasm for fads like crowdsourcing. Perhaps that will be the future of gaming?

So if not money or prizes, then what will most likely emerge as the most powerful currency in the crowdsourcing economy? I believe that emotions will drive this new economy. Positive emotions are the ultimate reward for participation.

Perhaps it will for some people. But there will always be an easier way to earn a stronger emotion. Ephemeral rewards - like increased reputation - are only useful if you can convert them into something tangible. Because, in the end, it all comes down to money.

There's a piece of prediction which nearly hits the mark:

Imagine it’s Friday afternoon, and I have an important favor to ask of you. For the good of the planet, you need to try to conserve as much energy as possible at home this weekend. Turn off your lights earlier, charge your electronics less frequently, unplug your toaster, hang your clothes on a clothesline instead of using the dryer. How hard would you try to do me that favor?

Now let’s say I told you that I had a hundred dollars riding on your ability to reduce your overall energy usage by at least 20 percent this weekend. How hard would you try to help me win?

This came true! UK energy companies are encouraging people to use less electricity. But, crucially, they are not giving away points or happy feelings. They're paying people.

Sure, there's some gamification nudges - your neighbour did better than you!!! - but for most people the motivator is cash.

The book takes a weird turn towards the end. The author truly believes that they can design a series of games which will positively impact the world. I'm reminded of Peter Cook's quote about the power of satire in the 1930s...

It posits that we need to create a better game. A bigger game. Something for all of us to strive towards

But the game would be a throughline for humanity, a tangible connection between our actions today and the world our descendants inherit tomorrow. It would create a sense of awe and wonder, inspiring us to imagine how this massively scaled adventure we are a part of could play out, and to make as meaningful an impact in the game as possible, so we can make a difference in our lifetime that lasts for many lifetimes more.

A new religion. Humans seem hardwired to want to take part in epic stories. To feel like we're part of history. That our names will be sung about in the future. That we will be heroic. Well... some humans.

Some of us want to try the occasional novel experience, pretend to be a superhero for a few minutes, and experience an artificially generated dopamine bump.

This is a good book. But I am the wrong audience for it. It explains a part of the world that I just don't see and - if I'm honest - distrust. I would love to live in a world where we could harness gaming for good. But I fear the consequences of misdirecting that energy.