HIS 282: History and Video Games, '25
Thinking more directly about critiquing games in class
Probably time to talk about teaching this week; it’s been an ambition for this newsletter from the start but I have done it much at all. In a few weeks I teach my “History and Video Games” course. It’s a 200-level course in our major, which means that it focuses on thinking about we craft history: particularly how we think about sources. I split students into groups and have each group work on a playable game that has a clear historical context or is based on historical events. They also write a “portfolio”, a written document - that has been through many variations over the years - that helps explain how the game operates as a work of history. The game has always been the main focus of the course; I teach it during our “CentreTerm”, a three-week term where my class is the only one the students take and we meet for three hours a day. Project work is a good fit for this kind of term.
That’s history AND video games by the way, an important distinction… no history OF video games around here. Actually I tried that for a couple of days one term and it was tricky. No, the purpose of the class is to talk about historical contexts and video games, including games that wear that context proudly and obviously (yes you, Crusader Kings), more subtly or indirectly (the Metal Gear Solid series), or - theoretically - somewhat unknowingly (Kerbal Space Program).
That last category can be the most fun, if challenging. There is certainly an extent to which some students will kind of take my word for it, but I’d like to do more than that. As the years have gone on I have become more invested in helping students develop the ability to critique, interpret and contextualize the games they play. I’ve been riding this pretty loose so far, in large part to leave the students some mental energy for making their game, which though fun throws a lot of different challenges at them.
Up to now, the requirement to make a game has served as the centrepiece of the class. There’s a lot to like about this format. For one thing, it helps us break up a three hour class pretty effectively. For another, actually making a game is a fantastic motivator in class. It gives the students a lot of power over their own work, which is pretty much always a good thing. And they have something concrete they can point to. This has taken a long time to get right. The Itch pages only really came together last year.
So really, it’s not likely I’ll drop the game this coming January; realistically I probably won’t drop the game at all. The value of it is too great; but it does feel like time for a change. I have long struggled with what the course does well and not so well. The game allows for a lot of positives in an intensive course. Although the work, particularly the different types of work - research, storytelling, art choice/design, programming, working as part of a small team - can be very challenging for the students, it creates a break of sorts on the day. I have confidence in my abilities as a lecturer but three hours is a big ask. The game, with some guidance and friendly prodding from the instructor, can serve as a nice change of pace.
The issue of critiquing games however feels undercooked. I have done it off and on in the class. But in the last two iterations in particular I’m not thrilled with it. Typically I’ll load up a game on the big screen in class, invite a student to play it, and we’ll all discuss it together as we go. I often don’t give the students a strong enough base though, so it becomes me monologuing a bit. Unsurprisingly the lecturer riffing off Assassin’s Creed III as your classmate keeps dying is more fun than the lecturer moving through slides, but it’s not quite where I want things to be.
The big exception to this is when we play Sid Meier’s Colonization. The pace of that game is a great fit: in an hour you can introduce yourself to a lot of the core concepts. In particular, you have opportunities quite early to make the decision to work with the indigenous Americans or go all historically accurate on them. I will typically have the students vote on this, British parliament style, which is to say lots of yelling. It works great.
So, how to create at least a similar experience for every single game or theme that we cover? The short answer I suppose is to give the students more structure. A worksheet, perhaps. The next issue is the crux of the whole course: creating accountability without overwhelming people, especially when they have a game due in 15 days. At the moment I think I will likely ask each student to submit a write-up on the game at some point but stagger things; I’ll have work coming in every day but students will be submitting things individually less frequently. I could also set up additional “game lab” time in the afternoon, when students due to submit a write-up that day could come by and spend more time with the game.
The “game lab” idea is sticking right now, as it’s in-line with a lot of the ideas that birthed the course in the first place. The game project exists because of a commitment to have the students make something and the belief that they benefit from that experience. The course also began, in January 2015, as a Digital Humanities concept. I was heavily inspired by places like the Duke University Wired Lab (now the Digital Art History & Visual Culture Research Lab) and the Scholars’ Lab at the University of Virginia, both of which stressed the importance of creating digital projects while working together in physical space. I had a lot of fun ideas, but I also have young kids - so at this point in my life and career hanging around an open lab for eight hours a day is not super likely. But I could bring in a mini version with the “game lab”. We’ll see how it goes.
Heavy on teaching talk I know, but hopefully this is of interest. I should also point out, if you’re reading this and you’re interested in developing a class like this, the Steam Deck has been a godsend. I had many workarounds the first few times I taught the class. The Steam Deck is not perfect but it does make things a lot easier, and once you have it showing on the overhead you now have games you can play.
I will write again soon - in other less teaching-focused news my time with Dragon Age: The Veilguard has continued. This journey, in short: “huh, this is not bad” - “actually this is really quite good, I hope I don’t get bored of the action” - “I feel a bit overpowered but it kind of suits the gameplay” - “this is pretty well written” - “I am loving how this game is wrapping things up.” As I said, a journey.