It seemed appropriate at the start of a module devoted to games based learning to start by reflecting on my experience of gaming, particularly in the digital realm. My earliest memories of computer games are of the Atari, hooked up to our big ol' 80's TV playing Pong (was this just tennis?) for long periods of time against my brother. For a pair of children who had access to a garden, tennis racquets and a patio wall that served the purpose of a net it is an interesting indicator of the novelty of the games console that we spent so much time sat 2 feet from the screen playing this version. Beyond that early memory we graduated to the games console. We had a Gameboy between us, and used to be assigned strict turns to play Tetris. We had Mario, and other platform games but I distinctly remember spending far more time on the puzzle games. It'd be somewhat crude to assign personality types to game styles, but I do wonder if there is something in that. From there we moved through a couple of Playstation models. Game style was far more varied there, and generally followed the popular trends of the day. Certainly an indication that the social aspects (peer pressure) of gaming with others started to kick in. At that stage we were certainly not playing others online, but certainly discussion about games at school influenced our choice of purchases. Mortal Kombat, Tomb Raider, Gran Turismo are the titles that stick out in my head now but there were many more. In terms of timeline it might be a little wooly but around about the same time we got our first computer, and the wonders of dialup Internet access. I can still remember the sound identifying when the modem had successfully connected. I had two real loves on that Acorn, Sensible Soccer (the never fail to score at the edge of the D thing was great), and Sim City. If Gladwell claimed mastery is at 10,000 hours I think we probably got pretty damn close in the few years we played. Certainly if you consider that our Sims ran in faster than real-time we definitely were. Interestingly, I can't remember the Internet enhancing my gaming experience at all. As an aside- there was something about Sim City that strikes me as unique now. We devoted hours to building cities, planning layouts, transport networks and the like in order to see them destroyed. Our goal was to build something and then initiate the disasters. Seeing the city ruined and bankrupt never felt like a bad thing, just an opportunity to modify strategy and try again. At a step back (and 20 years post..) repeatedly adapting strategies to minimise failure is not an immediately sell-able concept for a game but certainly one that appealed to me. Realising the correct save/revert to saved technique while experimenting was something that I think I could accurately claim is a skill I need almost daily in my current role, and one that I certainly learnt from games. As a group of software developers I'm not sure my intro to version control should have been here, but it probably was. Leaping forward the web properly kicks in, and my next major milestone is gaming while at University. It was early days for web games, but simple puzzles and (weirdly, considering the technology available…) online versions of the old-school Tetris style games were popular. My shared house had a Gamecube which was largely used for social gaming in a similar way to the board games we also had (a damn expensive board game..), we played Quake online in small communities (largely of people we knew in RL), and Championship Manager was something that I would say actually disrupted my studies (and was probably the cause of one of my housemates failing and dropping out in year 1). I can also claim to have become an expert virtual skateboarder courtesy of Tony Hawk during this period while never actually physically attempting the activity... Jumping over a whole set of events we're largely now at the current. Gaming for me now is almost entirely on portable devices. As a group of staff in previous years we spent a lot of time playing Travian, again about the community experience and team building, but it started to disappear as the time commitment grew. Or, it disappeared as the group started to get to know each other and we found other common interests beyond the game activity itself. I can't actually prove that, but I imagine my colleagues would confirm. The conclusion of this is about the future. Games for me are now about potential. What is it that makes me spend 4 hours last week playing golf on my iPad, but 0 hours actually on a golf course? More importantly, what is it that motivates our students to devote hours to achieving something that has no major impact on the things that we measure on them on, whether that is grades, careers, salaries, or whatever measure you choose? Are we measuring the wrong things? That is why this is important. Game mechanics motivate us to do more for the pure enjoyment of doing it, and if you think back through your own personal gaming history you'll find that you're learning skills along the way without realising it. Over the posts that follow I intend to explore my own learning experiences through games, and start to develop some ideas about how we can encourage this in our schools. And more importantly, in our students.

I've been reintroducing myself to Pac-man this week. Seems poetic in many ways that my starting point to look more seriously at games and what they have to contribute to learning is with one of the first games I played as a child. There's a nice free web version of the game here- it might be good to go and have a quick attempt at it before reading on. Having devoted a few hours of my week to it, I'm at a point where I think I understand the game & what is required to be 'good' at it. Exactly how I would define being good at Pac-man is somewhat up for debate, but I'm going for simply labelling it as achieving high scores. And, my benchmark for good has been made by taking an average of the score each of my colleagues got playing a single game (5200). I'm aware this isn't exactly scientific, and probably suggests something about my personality by identifying that 'good' for me basically means 'better than those around me'... It's not the best way to present the data, but the graph attempts to show my score progression over the week. The easier way to look at this is that the average of each of my main playing sessions moved from 4500 - 8500 - 9500. More interesting is how my attitude and approach to the game changed over the week. I'll return in a later post to how and why I think we get hooked on certain games, but for me once I was involved Pac-man became an exercise in reflection, in developing a strategy and adapting it. For what is on the face of it a simple arcade game the methods involved are more complex than they seem. My approach moved from 'eat as many dots before dying as possible' to the following set of rules:

1. Clear one corner at a time, using the energy pill at the latest possible moment & then moving to the next.
2. Watch the movement of the ghosts as much as Pac-man himself, stop sometimes to watch/wait.
3. Don't waste time eating blue ghosts.
4. Ignore the fruit bonuses.

From a wider perspective on the game, and my experience of it as a whole whether these rules are correct or not is largely irrelevant. My score improved which demonstrates I improved. More interestingly, particularly as I expect we can see the same pattern in more complex game setups, is that effectively what I did was create my own set of rules to go alongside the ones established by the game designer. Rules is possibly not the correct word- but, as highlighted by a fellow student what this simple little game is doing is not just reflection/adaptation, but demonstrates the very natural human need to make and form patterns with our knowledge.

In the previous post I discussed how I got myself back in to Pac-man, and the little set of tactics I came up with that I thought made me good at it. Here I want to look at why I appear to be rubbish at Pac-man on iPad, or at least worse.

The iPad version of the game (well, iOS) introduces some new control options. Playing on the computer I simply use the arrow keys to move the little chap around, I'd even got as far as discovering that I could hold down an arrow key in advance of the turn I needed to make so he turned as soon as possible.

Moving to iPad gives some different options. There's a joystick control at the bottom of the screen, or I can take advantage of some of the other tablet input methods and control Pac-man by swiping the screen or tilting the entire device.

2006 saw the launch of the Wii, and with that came the popularity in far more physically involved methods of controlling games. As a culture we got pretty excited about this, suddenly computer games could be an activity as part of a healthy lifestyle. We even have a couple of Nintendo Wii's in our PE department now.

However, it's ruining my score.

It's about inefficiency. With my arrow keys underneath my finger tips, the time required from brain to Pac-man is significantly smaller than if I have to tilt an iPad a certain degree to make the same activity happen. It's also a far more practiced activity- my body is already set up well to make these subtle movements very quickly. This can't be said for swiping or tilting.

Obviously if I'd started playing the game using the other control methods it wouldn't have been a problem, I wouldn't have noticed. But it is interesting how the input method changes the nature of the challenge and the experience of the game as a whole.

Returning just briefly to the Wii again I want to pick up on a wider issue around this idea of inefficiency. After a fairly small amount of time playing Wii Tennis or similar you realise that you don't have to mimic the exact on court actions of Andy Murray to become a skilled player. Far more subtle motions with the controller will achieve the desired result. We refine our motions to speed up reaction time, maximum reward for minimum effort. There is some question as to whether this could be marked up as cheating- would using a more simple on/off type device connected to the Wii make me so much better at tennis that it's an unfair advantage? But that's a whole new post.

Clifford Nass knows about multi-tasking. Quite simply, his message is that we're no good at it. And, the more we try to multi-task the worse we get at each of the tasks we're attempting.

Nicholas Carr (The Shallows) is with him. While it seems that the popular interpretation of Miller's Magic Number 7 that we can store up to 7 things in working memory at once was not entirely what he meant in 1950's, Carr goes on to tell us that this number is actually more like 2, maximum 4. The idea of cognitive overload is that if we put more in than we can take, something else has to come out. Keep pouring into that glass and it overflows.

So, brutally summarising their work in one sentence Nass tells us we need to focus on one task at a time to be most successful, Carr that if we need more than a couple of things in our working memory that'll start to go wrong. We can't multi-task.

The good news is years of research into cognitive science are backing up my Pac-man strategy. Nass and Carr wouldn't be watching the ghosts at the same time as planning their route round the maze, with the television on in the background and their phone ringing. They would have a strategy in place, complete a section, pause to watch the movement of the ghosts and then carry on, focus on each particular skill as required.

Pac-man is a beautiful model for something that I'm certain I'll return to in later posts. As both men allude to in the clips above, the skill here is not trying to process many parallel streams at once, but in learning which to filter out, how to prioritise the many sources of information coming in.

If you're wondering what it is that Pac-man is teaching us as educators, and why I'm still writing about it after 2 weeks, that's it right there. Pac-man makes us better uni-taskers.

Image sources (and apologies to all concerned for what might be the worst piece of Photoshop I've ever done) - Wired, Atari Age.