I read somewhere that we are the average of the people we spend the most time with. It makes sense to me: being in contact with a broad world expands the range of what I perceive, and sharing experiences with creators makes me want to know and create more myself.
This week, I attended two events that inspired me: a global queer speed networking and a video game trade show.
Global queer speed networking
One of the future projects that has been germinating in my thoughts is offering an online queer-themed writing course in English (something I did before for three editions back in 2016 in São Paulo). With this in mind, I began surfing the internet in search of organizations aimed at queer audiences and discovered We Create Space.
The organization presents itself as follows:
We’re a global community-led platform, consultancy, and collective on a mission to improve the lives of LGBTQ+ people and other under-represented groups of professionals around the world by connecting our communities and allies with tools, knowledge, and a support network for personal growth, leadership development, allyship, and self-care. We do that through shared experiences, content, research, and consultative work.
As soon as I found this organization, I saw they had a really interesting online event scheduled: the global queer speed networking.
Since coming to Japan, I’ve been focusing on meeting people for friendship (which is why I created a group for queer nerds to hangout), keeping my professional side limited to the work I do as a project and community management consultant for a U.S. company. However, I’m no stranger to the world of professional networking events: not only did I volunteer for CreativeMornings São Paulo1 for years, but I also created events aimed at deep conversations and a discussion group on masculinity for gay men.
So when I saw this idea of a queer-focused speed networking, I decided to give it a try. And it was fabulous. There’s something very special about being surrounded by people who are interested and active in issues that matter to me. I met people working in education, research, consultancy, etc., each one in their own way acting to create a safer, more inclusive, and community-driven world.
And perhaps the most exciting thing: people eager to connect and discover new ways to work together toward this shared vision.
I hope to have more to share about this in the future. 💕
Tokyo Game Show 2024
Thanks to a friend who works in the video game industry, I got a ticket to the Tokyo Game Show 2024, one of the largest annual video game events in the world. My initial idea was just to stroll around and see things without really participating in anything. Taking advantage of the fact that many people at the booths avoided me—being a white man walking in Japan always triggers one of two reactions: surprise and curiosity or surprise and avoidance, the later more than the former—I walked through the booths of giant companies in the market as well as indie developers.
I intended just to look, but then I got curious about the Google Play booth and joined the line. After twenty minutes of waiting, there I was, playing against seven other players for prizes. I came in first, won a t-shirt and some points to buy apps online, and ended up feeling more inclined to try other booths.
From that point on, the fun really began.
I tried some games and booths, got freebies, chatted with developers, and marveled at being reminded of the vast size of our planet: so many people creating amazing experiences! I would love to spend another day or two there, exploring new games and discovering what developers in countless countries are inventing.
By the end of the event, I was left wanting more and found myself thinking about the power of games and having a playful attitude. This is a concept that has stayed with me for a few years and about which I wrote in 2017—and now I will share the original text.
You are responsible for the games you choose to create and participate in
In the book A Theory of Fun, Raph Koster says that fun equals learning and, therefore, games and play are basic tools for learning things that are essential for our survival.
Hide and seek, for example, is about how to hunt better and avoid being hunted. Tag is about physical control of the body and combat. Angry Birds teaches about aim and strategy. Chess simulates a complex battle. Super Mario teaches how to jump and calculate jump mechanics.
I love the idea of fun as learning (though Koster emphasizes that it's not the only possible form of fun). It suggests that we should carefully observe what we are doing with the games we create and participate in. Games are not innocent; they are pedagogical tools. They teach ways of being in the world, and for that reason, we are responsible for them.
My concept of games
Until reading A Theory of Fun, two notions guided my understanding of games:
Jesse Schell’s idea that “a game is a problem-solving activity, approached with a playful attitude”;
Most of our cultural relationships are shaped by shared and reproduced fictions.
Koster believes games are like life but with lesser consequences. This definition in no way convinces me because the consequences of a game can be very tangible and real (I immediately thought of The Hunger Games or Saw).
When I read Koster’s definition, my brain gifted me with what is now my concept of the word “game” (thank you, brain, I love you!). I am convinced that a game is “a simplified slice of life.”
From the simplest to the most complex games, there is a slice relative to life. Even though the game happens in life, the time we play is distinguished from the rest of the time we are alive. This is the playful attitude. The slice is simplified because within the game, there is a set of norms and expectations that drastically reduce the number of possibilities, choices, and consequences for a given moment.
In a game of tag, you can run (usually within a designated boundary), there may be a “safe zone” (which protects you from being “caught”), you lose if the tagger touches you, you achieve the goal when you escape being caught, and if caught, when you tag someone else. People’s clothes don’t matter. Previous friendships don’t matter (and when they start to matter, they interfere with the game’s magic circle). The only thing that matters is achieving the goal.
In a BDSM relationship, the logic is the same. There is the master and everything they can do to their slave, there is the slave and everything they must do for their master. In between, there are agreements and expectations about what won’t happen, as well as a whole series of questions and anxieties left out of the game because they don’t belong to it.
I understand that the engaging power of games comes from their simplicity. Because they are easier/more accessible, games put us in a state of flow more easily and open doors to direct experiences of learning and empathy.
Games as art forms
If we understand games as learning experiences that reveal patterns we can use in life, and that they stop being interesting when we master these patterns (another idea developed by Koster and also found in Schell), then the question—for any game—becomes “what is this game teaching me about life?”
Whether fun or not, a game is teaching me how to live and reinforcing certain values and beliefs.
Just like books, movies, and music, games can be more than entertainment. Yes, they can be just entertainment, but we already know and expect that. What I’m proposing here (still in line with Koster) is that games can be a form of art.
For this to happen, a game’s goal must migrate from pure entertainment to questioning the human condition. In my mind, this was an abstract and frankly very idealistic idea… until I came across a game called Mainichi.
The game description is as follows:
Mainichi (“every day,” in Japanese) presents some of the social conflicts the developer faces daily as a mixed-race trans woman during the simple act of meeting a friend for coffee. When the player returns home, they wake up again in the same scenario, which subtly changes based on how you choose to prepare for the day. It’s a short, but very personal slice-of-life experience.
I played for ten minutes and spent much longer reflecting on what had just happened. Until Mainichi, I was convinced that a good story was the most powerful tool to get someone to step into another person’s shoes. After all, our mirror neurons take care of making us synchronize with the experience we see or hear, making us feel what the character feels. I still think a good story is the most powerful tool for creating empathy, but now I place that story in a very specific context: inside a game.
In the game, I made the choices for the coffee day, so the weight of the consequences isn’t just something I observe and empathize with. The weight of the consequences derives directly from my choices, so I feel responsible for what happens—and that’s terrible, because in reality, a trans woman isn’t responsible for the gratuitous hatred, indifference, curiosity, or prejudice she suffers. Since I felt that, even if only briefly, I now have a much more tangible experience to relate to.
Mere ten minutes of gameplay led me to this deep reflection.
Events can also be games
During the Tokyo Game Show, I decided to act as if I were in a game: when I saw something interesting, I would approach, open to the possibility of talking to other characters. When someone offered me to participate in a game, I would decide if I wanted that quest or not. When a game was difficult, I kept trying to gain more experience to eventually learn how to win.
An event like global queer speed networking can also work like a game. We had three or four rounds of 10 minutes to meet two to four people each time, and in this game, we all win when we find common interests and reasons for mutual admiration.
A good event simplifies reality to achieve a specific goal. That’s what I’ll do this week at the writing workshop I’ll be offering here in Tokyo: create a playful and compassionate space where we can connect and experiment with writing. What I hope is to do for people what the Tokyo Game Show and We Create Space did for me: spark that flame of inspiration to live and share exuberance.
With love,
Tales
CreativeMornings is a breakfast lecture series that takes place once a month in over 200 cities around the world, with the purpose of connecting the local creative community. Highly recommended!
You can see by my regular comments that your latest posts have really been resonating with me! My thought after this one is to note how the creation of the game (for instance, the one at the gaming convention) is a game in itself -- a game-generating game where the selection of game mechanics interacts with time, ultimate objective, and narrative framework with every element being optional except for one.