This review has been accessed times since October 22, 2008
Gee, James Paul. (2007). Good Video Games and Good
Learning. NY: Peter Lang
Pp. 194 ISBN 978-0-8204-9703-7
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Reviewed by Erik Jacobson
Montclair State University
October 22,2008
In Good Video Games and Good Learning, James
Paul Gee wants to counter what he considers alarmist concerns
about the effects of video games by making a case for the ways in
which good video games model and provide opportunities for "good
learning." Beyond defending video games, Gee makes the case that
they compare favorably to the instruction provided in many
schools. He notes, “I hope to convince you that
today’s young people often see deeper and better forms of
learning going on in the games they play than in the schools they
attend” (p. 47).
Throughout the book Gee uses the term “good” two
different ways. At times he means good in the sense of
pleasurable (as in a good time), while at others he uses
good to describe something that works well (as in a good
machine). Because of the way that he frames his questions he
does not use good in the sense of “ethical,”
and I believe that is a built-in limitation in his analysis (and
therefore the book). I will review each of these meanings of
“good” in turn.
Good as Pleasurable
Early on, Gee makes a case for the importance of
pleasure, claiming that “pleasure is the basis of learning
for humans” (p. 10). Indeed, he believes that “Good
video games reverse a lot of our cherished beliefs. They show
that pleasure and emotional involvement are central to thinking
and learning” (p. 2). Furthermore, Gee suggests that
video games are able to provide pleasure because they connect to
human’s need for “control, agency, and
meaningfulness” (p. 10). In this analysis, schools do not
provide opportunities for connecting pleasure and learning and
they actively work to convince students that “pleasure is
fun, and learning is work, and thus, work is not fun” (p.
10). In video games, players are often not aware of what (or
when) they are learning because this separation between pleasure
and learning is not experienced.
Although the criticism of the lack of pleasurable
learning in schools is not a new one, Gee’s work might help
teachers and others take video games seriously when framing
analyses of their students’ experiences at school and at
home. When critics bemoan students’ lack of engagement at
school, video games tend to be treated as a harmful distraction,
or as time away from learning. Yet something deeply pleasurable
is underpinning sustained engagement with the video games he
examines (such as World of Warcraft or Grand Theft
Auto). How many students find something about school-based
learning so pleasurable that they spend hours upon hours immersed
in it? There is a reason it is called school-work.
However, although there may serious concerns about much of
contemporary schooling, I believe that Gee’s claim that
“good” games ‘reverse our cherished
beliefs’ about pleasure, emotional involvement learning,
and thinking is overstated. Long before the advent of video
games, there were teachers and students striving to have those
kinds of experiences in school. These games may be putting
schools on notice, but they are not introducing new conceptions
of learning itself.
Good as "Working Well"
Gee suggests that video games designers have to take the
learning experiences of potential players into account when games
are being created. Players will not take hours to learn a game
if they sense it is not worth their time, and games live or die
depending upon how many people are playing them. In this sense,
video games are “good” when they do a superior job of
getting the players invested and committed to playing – if
they work well. In Gee’s analysis, in a game that works
James P. Gee
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well we see problems that are well ordered, challenges that are
enough to keep a player interested without making them feel like
they cannot complete the task, and players cycling through
different levels of mastery. Additionally, good games help
players learn how to play them. He suggests they do this by
following sound learning principles. For example, in keeping
with the idea that “good learning always involves knowing
early and well what type of thing we are being asked to do”
(p. 59), video games strive to make it clear to players what the
expectations are (e.g., navigate a skateboard through a course,
build an empire by controlling natural resources, etc.).
Similarly, good video games give players a clear sense of the
bigger picture. In these games “we clearly see how each
piece of information we are given and skill we are learning (and
doing) is inter-connected to everything else we are learning and
doing. We see the game as a system, not just a set of discrete
skills” (p. 55). Good games also help players master the
(sometimes) arcane language of the game play because the language
itself “is married closely to specific and connected
actions. The relationship between language and meaning (where
meaning here is the rules and the actions connected to them) is
clear and lucid” (p. 111). You develop an understanding
of terminology and rules by acting in a given context and getting
immediate feedback about your ability to draw on that knowledge
(e.g., you live or you die).
Not surprisingly, Gee does not think there is much of this
holistic and integrated-learning taking place in contemporary
school-based education (which instead teaches language and skills
somewhat abstracted and removed from any application). For this
reason, he suggests that good video games can be seen as working
better than schools at teaching students how to learn.
Another aspect of good learning that Gee thinks video offer is
how these game provide chances to “take on a new identity
in the world, to see the world and act on it in new ways”
(p. 172). Indeed, “the identity of the character one
plays is clearly associated with the sorts of functions, skills
and goals one has to carry out in the virtual world” (p.
154). So players taking on the identity of a S.W.A.T. team
member (for example) must adapt their thinking if they are going
to survive or thrive in the domain of the game. Gee writes that
these games help players use their experiences “to build
simulations in their heads through which they can think about and
imaginatively test out future actions and hypotheses” (p.
81). This lets players “act and experience consequences
of their actions (based on the values and identities they have
adopted as participants in the domain) in ways that lead them to
build better simulations for better future action” (ibid).
Gee suggests that this process “enables young people to
develop deeper understandings of important domains of
inquiry” (p. 120) and that range of video game titles
could be expanded to allow for a diverse array of domains (e.g.,
being an architect, being a veterinarian, etc.). The players
themselves could be involved in this process, as the best video
games allow for players to reconfigure them and explore the
parameters of possible actions.
While Gee makes clear and compelling arguments
about the benefits of good video games, the analysis suffers in a
few regards. He tends to list many titles of video games that he
thinks are examples of different aspects of good games, but he
does not go into detail for many. We are left to take his word
for it that the games he lists support his arguments.
Additionally, while his critiques of contemporary education are
in themselves not wholly off the mark, at times the analysis
feels like a case of comparing "my best and your worst." He
provides examples of educational malpractice that stand in for
schooling as a whole, but does not spend much time talking about
the countless video games that might not stand up to the standard
that he has set for "good" games. For this reason,
institutionalized education becomes a bit of a straw man which
"good" video games defeat quite easily.
Good as Ethical
A more problematic aspect of the analysis is that
while Gee admits that many of the games are informed by
ideologies worthy of criticism (e.g., militarism, sexism,
xenophobia), he brackets off any discussion of content. At times
he suggests that other people have taken on that aspect of games,
so it is not necessary for him to do so. At other times he
argues that the content of the games is irrelevant to an analysis
of how the games might be modeling good learning (understood as
pleasurable and well-designed). His stated concern is not what
is being learned, but the way learning occurs within the games.
As part of his attempt to remove content from the analysis, he
explains that a game is not good or bad on its own, but rather in
how it is used. He argues that, “video games – like
any other technology – are neither good nor bad all by
themselves. It all depends on how they are played and the social
contexts in which they are played” (p. 3). Indeed, rather
than critiquing the content of a game, Gee suggests that
“When educators recruit games for learning, they build
distinctive social and learning systems (e.g., curricula,
mentors, connections to other activities, social interactions and
so forth) around the games, and we need to assess the
effectiveness of the whole system, not the game alone” (p.
134).
Gee is correct to point out the role of social
context and the importance of learning systems, but bracketing
off the content of the games reduces the analysis to a design
problem (i.e., How successful is a given game at helping the
player learn how to survive in the virtual environment?). For a
writer who has been long concerned with how discourse, learning
and identity are co-constructed, it is odd to have the learning
taking place be treated as technical issue. Is it possible to
talk about “how” the learning happens without
addressing the “what” (including the ideological
aspects of discourse)? What does the violent, xenophobic and
misogynistic nature of some these games say about the larger
social context? While he is right to critique attacks on video
games that suggest a direct relation between playing violent
video games and acts of real-life violence, it remains
troublesome that the many games that he lists involve problems
being solved by violence. Most of the games he discusses have a
structure of kill or be killed, take land or have it taken. He
suggests that criticism of this type of content is off base:
In games like this, elements of content could be changed
without changing the game play – for example, in some
cases, taking pictures of people instead of shooting them or
secretly planting a message rather than a bomb in their car would
leave the problem solving and its difficulty pretty much the
same. Critics of games need to realize that players, especially
strategic and mature players, are often focusing on game play
more than they are on content per se.” (p. 19).
The fact of the matter is that this is not happening, however,
and it begs a larger question about the nature of society and of
gaming. Why are the embodied experiences currently offered
through video games so violent? What kind of social learning
systems are in place to help players interrogate the structures
and assumptions of these games? Why do players focus on game
play rather than content (if they do indeed do this) and what is
the possible impact of this attitude? While Gee raises some
important points about the ways that learning happens, divorcing
the content from the design and technical aspects of the game
means that only part of what is learned from video games is
addressed. Looking beyond the technical aspects of how games
effectively teach players to be good gang members or railroad
tycoons might show us that video games are providing for no
better learning systems than schools if we are concerned with
addressing the negative influence of harmful discourses like
racism, sexism, or unbridled capitalism.
On the whole this collection of essays lays out
Gee’s thoughts in a clear (if somewhat repetitive) manner.
The volume is perhaps best for those who are interested in the
educational implications of gaming, particularly teachers who may
be unfamiliar with the games their students find to be so
compelling. Gee draws on first-hand experience to detail exactly
how the design of certain games illustrates good models of
learning and his description of game play will be very helpful to
teachers and others who have not spent much time themselves
playing the current generation of video games.
Gee, like many
people, has a strong opinion about video games, and readers will
certainly find themselves rethinking their own positions, whether
they agree with him or not.
Erik Jacobson
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About the Reviewer
Erik Jacobson is Assistant Professor in the Early Childhood,
Elementary, and Literacy Education Department at Montclair State
University. His research interests include adult literacy
education, learner leadership, and the use of online technologies
as part of professional development
(e.g., wikis, blogs, discussion groups).
Copyright is retained by the first or sole author,
who grants right of first publication to the Education Review.
Editors: Gene V Glass, Kate Corby, Gustavo Fischman
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