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Category: ‘General’

Austen, Austen, Everywhere

[General,Research] (02.10.09, 11:41 am)

It amazes me how Jane Austen has such a prevalent fan culture. I may even go so far as to say it’s cult-like. Not in any pejorative sense, but once indoctrinated into the Janeite world, nothing ever seems quite the same again. Whenever there are literary cults, there tend to be interesting extensions and perturbations. Sometimes these return and intersect with the world of popular culture, such as in the case of the Jane Austen Book Club, but occasionally the perturbations are stranger. Take for example “Pride and Prejudice and Zombies,” found via the Times.

I am actually really interested in the “zombie phenomenon,” in its relation to popular culture. Zombies are symbols that play on ideas of consumption, mindlessness, individualism, homogeneity, race, gender, and so on. Zombies are a fun and surprisingly productive metaphor for communicating cultural fears and anxieties. The language of zombie horror translates very well into games, and as such there tend to be a lot of games about them. These tend to work out well because the mechanics are appropriate for the genre, and they insecurities, anxieties, and ironies of zombiedom can carry over very well.

I suppose it was inevitable that there be a Jane Austen – zombie crossover.

Pride and Prejudice: System Design 1

[General,Research] (02.06.09, 5:30 pm)

System Design 1

Design notes from the reading analysis. For the moment this will be general notes and extrapolations. It is not clear exactly what the mechanics of the world are or should be, but the document should be working in that general direction. The goal of the design phase is to create a design that is able to reformulate the chapter in the analysis in terms of the world logic.

I want to spend some time interpreting the results of the analysis. The step of interpretation should generally go within the analysis itself, but it needs to spill over onto this phase. By going through the analysis we can pick out several core elements of what is going on in the chapter.

This set of design notes has two distinct flavors. The first is a gameplay oriented observations, the second is oriented toward simulation. Both of these are important, but involve different values. I will distinguish these by contextualizing my discussion by explaining the relevance of things in terms of game mechanics or world mechanics.

Scenes

The chapter is organized, roughly, into scenes. Scenes are characterized logically by what the characters are doing, the interactions they are having, and the activities they are engaged in. Scenes have their own temporal flow, and some scenes may illustrate details drawing out a particular moment in time, while others may review many things happening quickly. Scenes are usually separated by a few sentences indicating a transition. The logic of scenes would make sense to use within a game mechanic. Another way of indicating this is that situations have intrinsic temporal scales. A scene is dominated by some sets of situations, and whichever one of these is active will cause time to be perceived at its particular temporal scale.

For example, a scene where Elizabeth is thinking to herself may be a private moment in time which is quite active from the perspective of events that are taking place. The events are cognitive and emotional, but many of them are taking place in this isolate moment of time. A gameplay equivalent of this would be to pause or slow the game, allow the player to perform the actions associated with the emotion, and then continue. Other segments, for instance, toward the end of the evening, events are spread across time, but are understood consecutively. This approach to time is naturally understood by readers, but is very unusual from the perspective of gameplay.

From a perspective of simulation, the temporal flow may be considered a presentational element, and the exact layout of the events in time is less of a concern than the events themselves. It is not clear what approach to time would be the best for gameplay. One way to approach it would be to have time play out continuously, and simply have the inner-thought periods be busy. A second approach would be to enforce the flow of time, but this would remove control over time from the player, and may be frustrating if there are forced jumps forward. The player could be given a means for controlling time, but this, at onset, sounds like a cumbersome interface element. I would be interested in some intermediary format, where time advances more or less continuously (long scenes may still need to play out), but slow scenes, such as inner thoughts would be slowed, and indicated by some focusing on the character. Similarly, a conversation may employ this device as well. Other means of advancing time, for instance, fast forwarding to a new event or traveling, may be available to the player as well.

Scenes are:

  1. Arrival, looking for Wickham, internal thoughts
  2. Speaking to Denny
  3. More internal thoughts
  4. Speaking to Charlotte Lucas
  5. Dancing with Mr. Collins
  6. Dancing with an Officer
  7. Speaking to Charlotte Lucas again
  8. Dancing and speaking with Darcy
  9. being interrupted by Sir William Lucas
  10. Continuing to dance with Darcy
  11. Being accosted by Miss Bingley
  12. Speaking to Jane
  13. Speaking to Charlotte Lucas, and interrupted by Collins
  14. Collins accosting Darcy (observed)
  15. Mrs. Bennett embarrassing the family
  16. Mary singing
  17. Collins interjection
  18. Post dinner awkwardness, being fawned over by Collins
  19. Parties leaving, additional awkwardness at waiting

These scenes are each characterized by some central activity or situation. These scenes have meaning in of themselves, in terms of the fact that they are significant occurrences. For instance: Elizabeth dances with Darcy, Mrs. Bennett embarrasses Elizabeth in front of Darcy. However, they are also contexts for the events that take place within the scenes.

Emotions and Internal Thoughts

Much of the important text in this chapter is about Elizabeth’s emotions. A lot of time is spent inside her head, either directly or indirectly. A model for the story world would need to incorporate this kind of content. The emotional logic can be understood fairly well in the sense that is described by Ortony, Clore, and Collins. The model they provide treats emotions as valenced reactions. Emotions are not mental states, but they are responses to experiences, and will affect mood and disposition. Emotions are dependent not only on the events, but also the way in which the observer interprets the events.

From a gameplay oriented perspective, this suggests a mechanic wherein the player chooses how to emotionally respond to events in the world. Much like selecting emoticons, the player would be able to indicate that she is offended, flattered, wary, cautious, and so on, in response to the various triggers given by interactions with others. These are significant, not only from the perspective of communication of state to other agents, but because they are meaningful with respect to the course of the story itself. It would be important to devise a mechanic that is complete and sufficient for players to be able to express emotions that both make sense to them, and make sense in the game world.

From the simulation oriented perspective, emotions are important because they 1) exhibit perceptible signs, and 2) they must be chosen by agents who are observing (or interacting) in any given exchange. These exchanges may also be wholly internal, as is the case with Elizabeth in the begining of the evening. The actual emotions that a character might experience are dependent on what they are reacting to and their disposition. It is also important to understand the way that emotions can translate and become redirected. Early in the evening, Elizabeth is first feeling distress and pity for Wickham, then translates this to anger toward Darcy, and then it extends all the way to Bingley because of his positivity toward Darcy. 

The variables given by Ortony, Clore, and Collins describe global emotional variables of sense of reality, psychological proximity, unexpectedness, and arousal. Each of these plays into the scene provoking Elizabeth’s anger at Darcy. Events may also easily be seen under the light of desirability and undesirability. It is important to remember that the framework is not meant to be a predictive architecture, but rather one to help understand and explain what emotions might occur. For simulation, these will need to be decided, and this ought to be done based on the situation and circumstantial qualities around the events or agents being reacted to.

Different characters will exhibit emotions differently. The actual emotions experienced may be the same, but simply have different effects on the conduct of the characters. The easiest way of illustrating these differences could be to compare two characters with very different dispositions. For instance, consider Mr. Darcy versus Mrs. Bennett. Darcy has a internally oriented, distant, and aloof disposition. When confronted with something that makes him distressed, his reaction is to withdraw and distance himself from the source of distress. Mrs. Bennett is externally oriented, and will immediately confront the source of her distress.

We may express this through a personality model. There are many personality models used in psychology and in character design systems. Instead of theorizing mentally about what models seem like the best choices, it may be best to start with a review of the characters, and examine how they are different with respect to each other. This approach lets us focus on differences that are only significant within the story world. A proper analysis of characters will account for not only disposition, but also other dimensions that are important for their values and such.

Obligations and Expectations

A central feature to thinking about situations and how they fit into the actions of characters is the idea of obligations and expectations. Within a situation, for instance, a conversation, a dance, being the second or first daughter of a family, or being at a ball, the characters participating will have certain things expected of them. Within Austen’s world, the role of gender is particularly significant. I am not sure if gender counts reasonably as a “situation”, but it plays a significant part in expectations.

Characters are never present in only one situation, they are present in many simultaneously. Social moves must be carefully made to negotiate between different expectations, or choices must be made between which situation to satisfy and which to defer.

Conversation as Status Games

Conversation generally has a functional dimension to it. In addition to the elements of language, conversation serves to establish relationships between characters in terms of social hierarchy. The role of status, as described by Keith Johnstone is particularly useful for this purpose. I think that status is a particularly useful lens through examining the actions of characters. Status describes the social position of one character with respect to another. It frequently tends to work along the lines of class and social status, as characters with high class tend to have more power over others. Interaction can be read as a sequence of status transactions, making status a form of currency in the social landscape.

The term status game refers to a type of interaction where characters will try to raise or lower each others status. This happens very frequently in Pride and Prejudice, where high status characters will lower others in attempt to make themselves appear higher. Characters may lower themselves to supplicate or garner attention from those with higher status (Mr. Collins does this all the time). Status can be used indirectly by making comparisons. A character may effectively raise or lower their status by comparing themselves to another with higher or lower status. This leads to the operations of comparing (bringing two together in status) and distancing (emphasizing difference or dissimilarity). Adding a further level of indirection, a character may compare another to a third party, who may not even be present. This sort of interaction is weak, but the most socially polite of status actions, and happens all the time.

Gossip and Communication

There is also a mechanic in the story world regarding how characters share information. Gossiping and sharing information are highly important. Within the story, there are many occasions when characters deliberate over whether to share some secret knowledge. When this knowledge is shared, it is always a significant moment. Some examples of when this takes place: Darcy’s revealing of Wickham’s character, Elizabeth revealing the fact to Jane but not exposing otherwise, Elizabeth revealing Lydia’s elopement to Darcy, Elizabeth revealing to Jane her feelings toward Darcy when she loves him, Darcy revealing to Mr. Bennett his role in Lydia’s wedding, and so on. These communications are generally private and directed toward a specific person, a confidante.

In terms of game mechanics, the player should be able to reveal secrets at her choosing, but should also be given clear indications of how revealing a secret is a significant and important act. It should also be clear to the player what facts that are known and are generally secret. Generally, a secret is only something that might be revealed if it is already being inquired into. Secrets are not total surprises, but they are the missing keys to whole puzzles for which the rest of the details are generally known.

From the perspective of simulation, this is the element to the mechanics of the story world that most strongly lends itself to the conventional models of planning. A character may have goals, and those goals will affect what sorts of secrets the character might share. Characters may share secrets for a variety of reasons:

  1. Bonding: If a character shares private information with another, where that information is of interest to both parties, and both are on the same social situation as conveyed by that information, it serves to strengthen a bond between the characters.
  2. Status maneuvering: Shared information may raise or lower the speaker or the listener.
  3. Expectation: The character may be expected to provide some information, and thus is obliged to do so. This can also function as an excuse for some other behavior or action.
  4. Embarrassment: Information may be withheld for the same reasons as other kinds of status maneuvering, and this is most frequently done so when the information is embarrassing to the speaker, and the speaker withholds the secret to save a loss of status.
  5. Saving face: This is another variant on status play. This may work according to Goffman’s theory of face work, where the speaker reveals a secret (or lies) in a way that lowers the speaker’s status, in order to prevent the lowering of another’s status.
  6. Inducing an emotion: information may be revealed to induce a reaction out of another, where the speaker desires for the listener to experience a particular emotion. This is often done in order to relieve others (revealing that favorable events have occurred), but can be done to rile them up, and produce antagonism between the listener and a third party.

Two Dimensions of Morality

In Austen’s world, social class was strongly connected to morality. Those with high class were considered superior to those below them, not merely in the sense of financial or social power, but morally. It is this moral dimension that Austen is interested in critiquing, and to which she directs much of her irony.

The first dimension of morality is the one characterized by the first line of Pride and Prejudice. This is the class based morality which was commonly held to be an accepted truth in Austen’s era. In this world, social class is directly connected to one’s morality. Where it is the role and responsibility of daughters to find the most financially and socially favorable match. This system of morality is a direct derivation from monarchy and feudalism, where the king is the most moral individual due to divine right. While this is generally acknowledged to be false in the modern era, it still remains influential, especially in terms of modern class systems. I will call this aristocratic morality.

Jane Austen repeatedly pokes fun at and is ironic in describing aristocratic morality. This is done from the perspective that it is the system that underlies the world she lives in, but it is inaccurate. The character of Lady Catherine de Bourgh has the highest social class, and is revealed to be a mean, stupid, and intolerable character. However, her status demands that others treat her as having a true moral superiority. This position is not shared by Austen, or by Darcy, although the reader is led to believe that Darcy adheres to aristocratic morality until later in the book. The alternative morality is one characterized by fidelity (care for siblings and family members), self respect, and bravery (in the sense of being willing to undertake social/status risks for the good of others). I will call this latter type, for lack of a better term, modern morality.

Characters are distinguishable by the type of moral system that they adhere to. Elizabeth clearly falls into this latter camp, and, in the latter half of the book, Darcy does so as well. A few characters strongly fall into the aristocratic system, notably Lady Catherine, Mr. Collins, Mrs. Bennett, and Charlotte Lucas. The rest of the characters, I think fall somewhere in between. I think there is also a third, non-moral, option, where the characters might be interested in self-advancement, without much consideration to others. Wickham and the Bingley sisters fall into this non-moral category.

Thinking about characters

A review of the characters in the story world. This list should be filled out with the characters as specified on the various axes of qualities, attributes, and variables that define the world.

  • Elizabeth
  • Jane
  • Mary
  • Lydia
  • Mrs. Bennett
  • Mr. Bennett
  • Darcy
  • Bingley
  • Caroline Bingley
  • Wickham
  • Mr. Collins
  • Charlotte Lucas

Defining Situation

A key element to this discussion is to come to terms with a definition of situation that is useful for the purposes of simulating the story world.

My understanding of situation is derived from several sources, most significantly from Goffman, but also from Agre. Situation is also similar to activity, in the sense of cognitive science (Lave, Hutchins, etc). I believe that it is important to have a general and broad definition of situation, and be prepared to accommodate characters present in many different types of situations simultaneously.

To start with, it will be useful to consider a list of qualities that situations should have, and how they should be used in the simulated world, and how the characters should relate to them.

  1. A character in a situation at any given decision point will be able to make a number of potential decisions, and these are derived in some sense from the situation itself. One approach to this is to say that a character has a role within the situation, and it is though that role that possible decisions are enabled.

    Examples of roles: in conversation, speaker and listener.

    Decisions are generally not wholly revealed to characters. Some decisions, especially in terms of what to say in conversations, are not clear to enumerate. Some of these must be constructed. Simulated characters may make a search pattern to discern useful responses.

  2. Characters may interpret events that occur within the context of a situation as having both symbolic meaning within the situation, as well as having global meaning that exists outside of the situation. Some situations may be observed by third parties, who can understand the implications of a situation from their external vantage point.

    Examples: witnesses to the dance of Elizabeth and Darcy, they are not within the dance, but understand it’s significance in the space of courtship.

  3. Decisions within a situation are made depending on the character’s goals, as well as the character’s personality and other global data.

  4. Situations are ambient, and they are perceived to exist only in characters minds. A character may be involved in a situation without explicit knowledge of it. Situations are reinforced by environments, but they must still be entered into by the participants, and acknowledged before engagement in the situation is possible.

    Examples: Miss Bingley and the advanced sparring during the “turn about the room” scene. Emma’s obliviousness with Knightley (in Emma)

  5. Situations may be initiated by offers, which are usually the opening situational moves by a character intending to start the situation. Offers can have many forms. A simple example is Mr. Darcy asking Elizabeth for a dance. Another example is marriage proposals. These are interesting cases because the offer of the proposal may be refused, but the situation cannot be refused. Even if a woman refuses a man’s proposal, the proposal cannot be disregarded.

    An offer is an assertive move, and reflects the initiator’s desire to take control of the situation. To accept an offer is to enable them to continue that control, but rejection may either derail the situation entirely, or may threaten the initator’s power.

    Offers are important to consider because they are means of initiating new situations. They still occur within a situation, but they change the landscape of what is happening in some way. For instance, an offer to dance must occur when it is possible for people to dance, such as at a ball.

    Status
    exists as a universally observable attribute (it is manifested at a
    physical level), and transcends situations. However, characters may
    have stronger claims to status depending on their situation. Accepting
    the status-maximization pattern of behavior, characters may try to initiate
    situations that they can dominate.

  6. Situations have a hierarchical structure. A situation may consist of sub-situations, and in deducing meaning, the entire hierarchy must be considered. A situation, at least, ought to have a parent. However, the larger scale a situation is, the less clearly defined it is.

    The exact layout of these high level structures is difficult to pin down. An example is that courtship defines a large scale situation, and involves the cultivation of a relationship, as well as certain modes of conduct on the part of its participants. However, being a young unmarried woman is also a situation, and it comes with a set of expectations that overlaps greatly with the situation of courtship. In this way, young unmarried women are expected to always be in courtship.

    Unlike in traditional computational models, the root of the situation hierarchy is the least defined, while the leaves are the most concretely defined. It is easy for a character to tell when they are in conversation with someone, but more difficult to tell whether they are in courtship.

  7. The way that situations are understood to characters is likely that there are several concrete situations that are present at any given moment. For instance, listening or being expected to say something, conversation, a dance, being a guest, being the second eldest daughter, being in a ball. Other situations may be less clearly defined, and are subject to changing depending on the impressions of its participants. For instance, states of expectation (waiting for someone to say something, expecting for an apology, expecting a positive response, expecting someone to leave the house), being in love or friends with someone, emotional states, courting someone.

    It is not clear whether these latter examples should be considered situations or something else. They are states, and they do have issues of boundaries, but they are less well defined or realizable to the characters, and are dependent on factors that are not immediately within the state hierarchy itself.

    Even relatively well defined situations, such Elizabeth and the Gardenier’s visiting Pemberly, may be distorted when other events occur, namely Darcy’s appearance. In this case, the situation changes from a property visit, essentially a tour, to the state of being guests.

  8. Situations may be contextualized by time and space. Certain situations may be meant to function within specific locations, and are constrained by time, and their relationship to other events and situations. A situation may be said to have several phases if it is sustained.

    For example: The dancing part of a ball may consist of sub situations which are individual dances. A card game is organized into several rounds. A social visit has greetings, the business itself, and then departure. Conversation has alternation of speaking and listening.

    These phases are usually well defined, but it is possible for situations to be disrupted or strained and turn into something else. This can occur when the situation is extended too long in time, or its environmental supports are removed. This may be a contextual change (for instance the awkwardness induced by Mary’s singing and Mr. Collins’ response thereafter), or a structural change where the situation itself changes (for instance, when Jane falls ill at Netherfield and needs to be cared for).

  9. Character roles are a major issue in social analysis, but roles do not
    exist in absentia, they require a situation to contextualize them. A
    character’s possible actions depends on its role, and the role only has
    meaning within a situation. So, agents may adopt roles on entering
    situations, and they may try to exchange roles within them.

    It is in the context of roles that character actions may be adopted. A character who is enacting the role of a guest has an automatic position within a situation once entering it, and the character’s decisions are made based on that role.

Events

Events are the means by which things happen in the world. It is important to determine the sequence of how events work. Events alone are not atomic, there are several steps that must be followed through in how the event is chosen, interpreted, and responded to.

  1. The event will occur within a situation. The acting character has a role within the situation. Often times, the acting character may be forming a response in the context of some expectations.

  2. Based on the role and the character’s state, and whatever else goes into making a decision, the character chooses action. The character also must decides some conduct. This conduct may, and probably will, be unconscious, but the AI controlling the character must decide on how the disposition plays out. A player may choose disposition explicitly, or it may be automatically inferred by other contexts.

  3. The event is observed, by others, with respect to their own situations, and the perceived situation of the acting character. Some of these are clearly observable, others are less so. For example, when Elizabeth and Darcy dance, everyone in the ballroom can see the dancing, but not hear what they are talking about. This must stem from some sort of degree of privacy that is a context of either the situation or the event itself.

  4. Meaning is made from action by the observer (this step occurs whenever a character learns something new). Meaning is made based on how the event conforms or differs from the observer’s expectations, as well as by general standards. The content of the meaning can be any sort of knowledge that makes sense within the situation or global world. For instance, observation of flirting indicates courtship, observation of rudeness (a rude action is situationally determined) indicates that a character is disagreeable. Other impressions may be dependent on the observer’s beliefs or system of values (or morality).

  5. The observer responds to the meaning of the action, forming emotions. This sense of response is immediate and visceral. The model of emotions as valenced reactions is immediately relevant here. This will affect the state and disposition of the observer.

  6. The observer may be expected to do something in response to the event. For instance, in conversation, the character may be expected to say something.

Pride and Prejudice: Reading Analysis 1

[General,Research] (02.06.09, 5:30 pm)

Reading analysis 1

This is my first reading analysis. It will be followed up later by a design. This step is intended to examine the subject material in the attempt to understand what is taking place, so that a design of a model may be possible. The task of analysis is dependent on the design, though. The analysis requires thinking of the text in terms of a system of structures. Design and analysis exist in a cyclic relationship.

To review a bit, this project is oriented toward creating a game adaptation of Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice. In order to implement this project, we must develop a model of the story world, and be able to simulate that model. However, the process of constructing a model is an important and delicate task. Models can convey value systems, and choices in the model design may restrict the expressive capacity of the work. In computer science, the models of traditional AI have had philosophical baggage which has been carried into nearly every AI project for good or ill. It is not my goal in this discussion to critique other forms of models, but to analyze the text of Pride and Prejudice so that a model may be drawn. It is necessary to come to the table of analysis with something, however.

In my analysis, I would like to examine the text with some degree of freshness, but I must take some clear approach to my investigation. Firstly, I wish to analyze scenes with the understanding that they are subdivided into spaces, characters, and props. Things that happen in the scenes are actions, but it is more important to understand the actions in terms of the effects that they have to the characters and what is going on in the scene. It is furthermore important to understand these actions in terms of motivations.

I believe that the matter of “what is going on” will be best understood as situations. Characters participate in these situations, and within them, actions have special value. However, the matter of introducing and developing situations is far from clear. Do they change, how flexible are they, are they understood mutually, what are their boundaries, and so on.

It is also worthwhile to note that the goal of the project is not to adapt the text verbatim, but to adapt the world behind the text. The text is clearly necessary, but it gives an incomplete and partial picture. Furthermore, the text also makes use of narrative compression and portrays scenes generally. For a game which may not have the capacity to enact that kind of compression, those scenes will need to be filled out or made brief.

The scene I have chosen to analyze is the ball at Netherfield. This is an extended event which is divided into several distinct scenes. This is the event where Elizabeth’s family makes an embarrassing scene that leads to Darcy instrumenting Bingley’s withdrawal from his country estate. This is chapter 1.18. The transcription is provided by Project Gutenberg.

(The formatting came out kind of odd in moving this to WordPress. The rest of the document can be found via Google Docs here)

Text

Analysis

Till Elizabeth entered the drawing-room at Netherfield, and looked in
vain for Mr. Wickham among the cluster of red coats there assembled, a
doubt of his being present had never occurred to her. The certainty
of meeting him had not been checked by any of those recollections that
might not unreasonably have alarmed her. She had dressed with more than
usual care, and prepared in the highest spirits for the conquest of all
that remained unsubdued of his heart, trusting that it was not more than
might be won in the course of the evening.
This is an internal monologue of Elizabeth’s thoughts. She has been looking forward to seeing Wickham and dancing with him at the ball.

The text conveys extra information about the scene: Elizabeth’s dress and spirits are more careful and elevated, and this is an indication of her positive expectations.

Elizabeth’s anxiety is a balance between hopefulness and disappointment. These emotional reactions may be seen as fitting neatly with Ortony, Clore, and Collins.

Wickham’s absence may also be seen as a reflection on his character, but this goes unnoticed by Elizabeth. Wickham had promised to come to the ball, and has retreated on such.

The last line of this suggests developing intentions on part of Elizabeth’s character, suggesting that her dress and spirits may also due to intention, rather than merely expectation.

But in an instant arose
the dreadful suspicion of his being purposely omitted for Mr. Darcy’s
pleasure in the Bingleys’ invitation to the officers; and though
this was not exactly the case, the absolute fact of his absence was
pronounced by his friend Denny, to whom Lydia eagerly applied, and who
told them that Wickham had been obliged to go to town on business the
day before, and was not yet returned; adding, with a significant smile,
“I do not imagine his business would have called him away just now, if
he had not wanted to avoid a certain gentleman here.”
Elizabeth first hypothesizes (suspects) that Wickham had been deliberately excluded from the invitation, which would explain both his absence and reinforce her negative feelings toward Darcy (as wreaking more harm against someone who she likes).

Elizabeth finds from officer Denny that Wickham is absent. The interaction with Denny is some form of motivated gossip.

Denny implicates Darcy, knowing of Darcy and Wickham’s antagonism. Sharing this with Elizabeth (who likes Wickham, and thus imaginably may be disposed against Darcy) is a form of bonding against a common enemy.

Wickham’s absence makes use of a conventional excuse, but one that may be cast as having an alternate motive (avoidance of Darcy).

The interplay of excuses is an important social mechanic.

This part of his intelligence, though unheard by Lydia, was caught by
Elizabeth, and, as it assured her that Darcy was not less answerable for
Wickham’s absence than if her first surmise had been just, every
feeling of displeasure against the former was so sharpened by immediate
disappointment, that she could hardly reply with tolerable civility to
the polite inquiries which he directly afterwards approached to make.
Attendance, forbearance, patience with Darcy, was injury to Wickham. She
was resolved against any sort of conversation with him, and turned away
with a degree of ill-humour which she could not wholly surmount even in
speaking to Mr. Bingley, whose blind partiality provoked her.
The context of this is that Elizabeth’s mood sours due to the absence of Wickham.

Elizabeth blames Darcy for this, projecting the same negativity as if Wickham had been excluded as per her suspicion. To extend her antagonism in this way is a form of blowing the circumstance out of proportion. Her attitude towards Bingley is reduced due to his friendship with Darcy. This is a manifestation of emotions by proxy.

This point Elizabeth’s emotional landscape is unilaterally against Darcy. Any form of support or positivity toward Darcy is perceived as against Wickham, and by extension herself (because she likes him). The actual network of emotions is complex here, that Elizabeth would be angry at Bingley. Not only do the emotions due to Wickham and Darcy extend across four agents- Elizabeth – Wickham – Darcy – Bingley, but they also overrule her other forms of relationships with him, albeit temporarily.

But Elizabeth was not formed for ill-humour; and though every prospect
of her own was destroyed for the evening, it could not dwell long on her
spirits; and having told all her griefs to Charlotte Lucas, whom she had
not seen for a week, she was soon able to make a voluntary transition
to the oddities of her cousin, and to point him out to her particular
notice.
To recover her mood, Elizabeth meets up with her friend Charlotte Lucas, to whom she describes her grief. This is another form of motivated gossip, but its intention is to relieve the speaker of unhappiness by communicating it, and, presumably garnering support.

Elizabeth then continues to gossip about Mr. Collins, describing his “oddities”. The motivation of this gossip is arguably to continue relieving her spirits by making light of how Collins is outside of what she considers reasonable behavior. This serves to explain how she is distant to Collins, and that Collins is an outsider to polite social interaction.

The first two dances, however, brought a return of distress;
they were dances of mortification. Mr. Collins, awkward and solemn,
apologising instead of attending, and often moving wrong without being
aware of it, gave her all the shame and misery which a disagreeable
partner for a couple of dances can give. The moment of her release from
him was ecstasy.
This marks an abrupt shift in circumstance, a form of narrative compression. Elizabeth has moved from speaking to Charlotte Lucas to dancing with Mr. Collins.

Even though this dance is highly undesirable, Elizabeth had promised to dance with Mr. Collins, and must follow through on such. Failure to do so would be extremely inappropriate.

We have a few nice details about Mr. Collins’ conduct: awkward, solemn, not-attending, unaware of his partner. The conduct over the course of a dance has symbolic meaning that indicates an impression of Mr. Collins’ character. Collins’ behavior is odd generally, but the behavior within a dance is specifically meaningful in the situation. It would not make sense to describe Collins as “apologising instead of attending” in other circumstances with quite the same meaning.

Interestingly, Collins’ awkward behavior fills Elizabeth not only with misery, but also with shame. The emotions of joy and misery may be linked to the idea of the dance being a pleasurable activity (with a good partner). However, the emotion of shame indicates a sense of self-responsibility for her circumstances, which is culturally normal, but not exactly logically appropriate.

The release of the dance is ecstatic because of the ending of an undesirable situation.

She danced next with an officer, and had the refreshment of talking of
Wickham, and of hearing that he was universally liked.
When those dances
were over, …
This passage reflects an intermediary phase in which Elizabeth dances with an officer before returning to Charlotte Lucas. How this dance is initiated is not clear. These dances would represent a longer phase in a simulation, but is cut short and made very brief here.

Functionally, she talks to the officer of Wickham. Exactly what is said is not revealed, but it is indicated positively. Elizabeth learns that the officer likes Wickham, reinforcing her positive impressions.

she returned to Charlotte Lucas, and was in conversation with
her, when she found herself suddenly addressed by Mr. Darcy who took
her so much by surprise in his application for her hand, that,
without knowing what she did, she accepted him. He walked away again
immediately, and she was left to fret over her own want of presence of
mind;
Elizabeth returns to Charlotte Lucas, indicating some pattern of her activity to the reader. Charlotte Lucas is Elizabeth’s friend, and interaction with her forms a stable point in an otherwise turbulent situation. It is socially appropriate for them to spend time together. It is also appropriate for groups of ladies to be approached by men and asked for dances.

Darcy appears suddenly, creating surprise in Elizabeth especially. Darcy’s asking for her hand in a dance is a symbolic interaction that is very clearly established. Since Elizabeth is surprised, she is not able to form an excuse for replying in the negative, and thus accepts him. It would have been very rude to turn him down without an excuse. The interplay of politeness relates to a kind of social currency and power.

Elizabeth responds negatively after Darcy leaves, (as it would not be appropriate to do so while he was there), expressing something between shock and distress that she will need to dance with him. Such an interaction would require a confrontation and suppression of her antagonism to Darcy, which is undesirable to her.

Darcy’s asking of Elizabeth to dance is also a significant social gesture, as Darcy’s social status is so much higher than everyone else. If Elizabeth operated according to the expected social rules, she would be delighted to dance with Darcy, and make a positive impression on someone so important.

No indication is given to Darcy’s reaction, but he is imaginably pleased that Elizabeth accepted his offer.

Charlotte tried to console her:

“I dare say you will find him very agreeable.”

“Heaven forbid! That would be the greatest misfortune of all! To find
a man agreeable whom one is determined to hate! Do not wish me such an
evil.”

When the dancing recommenced, however, and Darcy approached to claim her
hand, Charlotte could not help cautioning her in a whisper, not to be a
simpleton, and allow her fancy for Wickham to make her appear unpleasant
in the eyes of a man ten times his consequence. Elizabeth made no
answer, …

The social ramifications of this dance are emphasized by Charlotte Lucas who has an astute sense of social status.

The first thing Charlotte says is meant to gently assuage Elizabeth’s antagonism. Elizabeth responds very harshly and negatively. But she noticeably does not leave, indicating that this does not make her upset with Charlotte, but just with Darcy. Elizabeth’s response may be seen as a means of taking out her distress (regarding the impending dance) on Charlotte.

Elizabeth’s response also lays out a fear, of both liking (or at least, finding agreeable) Darcy, as well as hating him for his alleged wounds to Wickham. This is precisely the situation that evolves, though.

Before Darcy comes to lead her to the dance, Charlotte also continues to give Elizabeth advice. Charlotte’s advice can be considered motivated by genuine interest in Elizabeth’s happiness, and also by a desire to impress on her the model by which social status works, and the values therein.

Charlotte’s advice is precisely for Elizabeth to consider her antagonism due to her attraction to Wickham as less valuable than the social value of dancing with Darcy. This is precisely rational under the model where the girls would wish to marry well. Because Elizabeth does not abide by that model, her reception to Charlotte’s advice is limited.

It is worthwhile to note that no one in the room would suspect that by dancing with Darcy, the two would develop a fondness for each other and marry, but instead it is a tremendous contextual raising of Elizabeth’s social stature. To have had danced with Darcy, Elizabeth would stand a better chance of marrying well, because of her associations with high society.

and took her place in the set, amazed at the dignity to which
she was arrived in being allowed to stand opposite to Mr. Darcy, and
reading in her neighbours’ looks, their equal amazement in beholding
it. They stood for some time without speaking a word; and she began to
imagine that their silence was to last through the two dances, and at
first was resolved not to break it; till suddenly fancying that it would
be the greater punishment to her partner to oblige him to talk, she made
some slight observation on the dance. He replied, and was again
silent.
The social consequences of standing next to Darcy in the dance are immediate, evidenced by attention and looks from the neighbors in the room.

The issue of conversation versus silence in a dance is a matter of social awkwardness versus comfortability. I do not know what the conventions are in dancing regarding conversation. Silence is comfortable to Elizabeth, and she suspects that it would be comfortable to Darcy as well. Valuing his lack of comfort above her own, she decides to speak. This is not an indication of any plan on her part, but a spontaneous decision aimed at inflicting awkwardness and grief.

The actual conversation that occurs is not revealed to us, only its trivial nature. The important aspect about this conversation is not its content, but the circumstantial value of having conversation within the dance in the first place.

After a pause of some minutes, she addressed him a second time
with:—”It is your turn to say something now, Mr. Darcy. I talked
about the dance, and you ought to make some sort of remark on the size
of the room, or the number of couples.”

He smiled, and assured her that whatever she wished him to say should be
said.

“Very well. That reply will do for the present. Perhaps by and by I may
observe that private balls are much pleasanter than public ones. But
now we may be silent.”

In continued conversation, Elizabeth is indicating that Darcy is failing to complete the contract of conversation. This suggests that conversation has the form of A: observation, B: response, B: observation, A: response.

This also has the form of ribbing Darcy, threatening him in the matter of his social graces, but albeit as lightly and with some jest. Elizabeth’s suggestion suggests in jest that Darcy does not know the rules of proper social conduct.

Darcy responds to this (following the rule of proper conversational manners) not by responding directly to Elizabeth’s allegations, as that would lend them some form of credence, but is able to suggest that if Elizabeth is to be the authority on conversational manners, then she may complete the response herself. This is done briefly and lightly. This makes light of Elizabeth’s sudden interest in conversation and its order. This enables Darcy to dodge the threat that Elizabeth poses in her retort.

Thinking generally, other possible conversation options that Darcy might have would have been to follow along and actually say what Elizabeth suggests that he say, but that would lower himself immensely, granting her a great deal of power over him. He could attempt to deny her authority by dismissing her address, which would put Elizabeth down, but he would come off as extremely rude, which is not appropriate for him.

Elizabeth’s response again dodges Darcy’s suggestion that she should fill out his share of the conversation herself, by claiming that his response was sufficient. She then continues the conversation game suggesting that she might say something generally. She concludes by saying that only now may they be silent, eliciting a kind of power grab. She manages to dismiss Darcy’s actual response by pretending it is a move in her conversation game (and a bad one at that), and then asserts authority on whether they may be silent or not.

This retort amounts to something of a significant power grab in their interaction. Doing so enables her to keep on her toes and maintain social power against Darcy who otherwise simply outclasses her.

“Do you talk by rule, then, while you are dancing?”

“Sometimes. One must speak a little, you know. It would look odd to be
entirely silent for half an hour together; and yet for the advantage of
some, conversation ought to be so arranged, as that they may have the
trouble of saying as little as possible.”

After that, the conversation has the effect of questions or statements by Darcy and then responses by Elizabeth.

Darcy aims to hold power by refusing to be silent when Elizabeth claimed to allow silence (maintaining silence would be humbling on his part). His question inquires as to Elizabeth’s current conversational behavior, continuing to question her self-designated authority of dance conversations. The use of the term “by rule” is telling, because it suggests an inquiry into the model she uses for her conduct. This question may thus be seen as an effort to maintain power, continue conversation, and also perform genuine inquiry into her character.

Elizabeth’s response is partially genuine, explaining that a set of dances without conversation is awkward, which would be lowering herself. She then suggests that some (gently indicating Darcy) may prefer to have no conversation at all. This subtly hints that Darcy may has an anti social disposition. The actual statement is quite ambiguous, though. This does amount to a effort to gain power by lowering Darcy, but the threat is vague and indirect.

Elizabeth could make a few responses instead of this one. She could reply flatly, giving some sort of yes or no (the no would be very provocative). She could leave off at the mention of awkwardness, but that would be leave her vulnerable to attack. She could make a more direct threat to Darcy, which may be rude. She might actually respond by raising Darcy, suggesting that she might have thought that he would like conversation, which would be supplicating.

“Are you consulting your own feelings in the present case, or do you
imagine that you are gratifying mine?”

“Both,” replied Elizabeth archly; “for I have always seen a great
similarity in the turn of our minds. We are each of an unsocial,
taciturn disposition, unwilling to speak, unless we expect to say
something that will amaze the whole room, and be handed down to
posterity with all the eclat of a proverb.”

Darcy’s response to Elizabeth’s vague threat is to clarify it. This is threatening because it both turns the threat to her, and implies that she must expose the threat to him, bringing it out behind its shield of vagueness. This is threatening because if she were to bring out a threat, then it would be rude.

Elizabeth’s response is brilliant. Like all of the conversational moves so far, it misdirects the original assault. Instead of claiming that either she or Darcy might be antisocial, she unites the threat against both of them, which implies a certain commonality and unity between them. She also does so in a way that pokes fun at both of them, indicating that both of them are kind of ridiculous. This effectually lowers both, but in comparing herself to Darcy raises her to be closer to his level all the same.

Elizabeth could have easily turned the threat onto herself, suggesting that she were gracing or entertaining Darcy for his own benefit, which would be like a false raising of his status.

“This is no very striking resemblance of your own character, I am sure,”
said he. “How near it may be to mine, I cannot pretend to say. You
think it a faithful portrait undoubtedly.”

“I must not decide on my own performance.”

He made no answer, and they were again silent till they had gone down
the dance, when he asked her if she and her sisters did not very often
walk to Meryton. She answered in the affirmative,

This reaction is actually a direct response to Elizabeth’s last statement. Darcy contradicts Elizabeth’s allegation toward herself, which ostensibly serves to raise her. The contradiction undercuts her claim, though. Darcy then goes on to challenge her assessment of him. He neither supports nor denies her claim, but instead asserts that she believes it faithfully. This implicitly denies the allegation, but weakly. Darcy’s reaction on the whole here is rather abrupt in halting their banter.

Elizabeth’s response is also abrupt and has the effect of a last word.

The witty repartee reaches a pausing point, effectively concluding this line of conversation. On the whole, it seems like Darcy was the one to halt the flow of it, effectively leaving Elizabeth on top in terms of social skills.

Darcy’s question that follows this is non offensive and is relatively innocuous inquiry. This is absent of any power manoeuvrings, leaving the power relationship as it is. Darcy knows of Elizabeth’s fondness for walking, so his question seems indicative of a some potential affinity.

Elizabeth’s quick positive response is relatively neutral.

and, unable to resist
the temptation, added, “When you met us there the other day, we had just
been forming a new acquaintance.”

The effect was immediate. A deeper shade of hauteur overspread his
features, but he said not a word, and Elizabeth, though blaming herself
for her own weakness, could not go on.

The remark that follows is due to a quick internal debate within Elizabeth. She was unable to resist the temptation of bringing up Wickham. Exactly the nature of the the sides of the debate are unclear, but it is generally a matter of whether to offend Darcy. This is a concrete choice.

Offending him would put him down and cause some suffering on his part, satisfying some Elizabeth’s earlier emotional state. It would also serve to demonstrate to Darcy her found sympathy and support for Wickham. To do so would also assuredly provoke some form of negative reaction from Darcy, which would cause her social standing to suffer after they parted.

Darcy’s actual reaction to hearing of Wickham provokes a change that is visibly evident. The reaction could be due to either just thinking of Wickham (antagonism, disgust), or it could be to think of him and Elizabeth as close and associated, which would produce an effect of distancing himself from her. The actual essence of what is going on here is very ambiguous, and indicates the distance of both the reader and Elizabeth to Darcy’s inner thoughts.

An adaptation of this scene would need to be able to successfully convey not only Darcy’s physical reaction, but also the ambiguity of it.

Elizabeth is not comfortable with this reaction, and notably regrets having mentioned it. The power relationship between the two is unclear. Darcy could be in power because of his distance, or alternately Elizabeth could be in power because she made Darcy uncomfortable. The situation is awkward for both parties, and Elizabeth is unable to continue the conversation, leaving a conversational gap that is indicative of a moment of transgression in the dialogue.

At length Darcy spoke, and in a
constrained manner said, “Mr. Wickham is blessed with such happy manners
as may ensure his making friends—whether he may be equally capable of
retaining them, is less certain.”

“He has been so unlucky as to lose your friendship,” replied Elizabeth
with emphasis, “and in a manner which he is likely to suffer from all
his life.”

Darcy made no answer, and seemed desirous of changing the subject.

Darcy makes a sarcastic response about Wickham, targeted not at Elizabeth herself, but at Wickham primarily. He indicates that Wickham has strong social skill at garnering positive first impressions (making friends), but is unreliable and cannot be depended on (retaining them). This statement is given plainly, but can be read as a warning toward Elizabeth’s affection or relation to Wickham. This also supports accounts of Darcy’s history with Wickham as well, that they were once friends but lost their friendship in a nasty manner.

Elizabeth, who likes Wickham, is put on the defensive due to Darcy’s line. Her response is hostile and accusatory, emphasizing the suffering experienced by Wickham at the loss of his friendship with Darcy. The gist of this response is that Darcy is to blame for their loss of friendship as well as Wickham’s injury.

Again, Darcy’s response, or lack thereof, is significant, but ambiguous. His silence does not oppose Elizabeth’s claim, but it does not tacitly support it either. Darcy is clearly made uncomfortable by discussing Wickham. Functionally it serves to distance himself from the conversation, but it also suggests that Darcy is considering knowledge which he is not interested in divulging.

The effect of Darcy’s silence is an awkward pause, which would be embarrassing, and likely awkward unless it was interrupted.

At
that moment, Sir William Lucas appeared close to them, meaning to pass
through the set to the other side of the room; but on perceiving Mr.
Darcy, he stopped with a bow of superior courtesy to compliment him on
his dancing and his partner.

“I have been most highly gratified indeed, my dear sir. Such very
superior dancing is not often seen. It is evident that you belong to the
first circles. Allow me to say, however, that your fair partner does not
disgrace you, and that I must hope to have this pleasure often repeated,
especially when a certain desirable event, my dear Eliza (glancing at
her sister and Bingley) shall take place. What congratulations will then
flow in! I appeal to Mr. Darcy:—but let me not interrupt you, sir. You
will not thank me for detaining you from the bewitching converse of that
young lady, whose bright eyes are also upbraiding me.”

The awkward moment and the dance between Elizabeth and Darcy are interrupted by Sir William Lucas, who appears suddenly.

William Lucas is present due to a circumstantial motive, to pass to the other side of the room, but when present, greets the dancers. This is a polite gesture under the circumstances. William Lucas’s introduction is somewhat over-polite and gregarious.

William Lucas compliments the two and remarks on their performance as dancers. Dancing is indicated to be a pleasurable activity, not only for the participants but also for the spectators. This serves to elevate both Darcy and Elizabeth. Furthermore, in suggesting that they both belong in the first circles, elevates Elizabeth to be very close to Darcy. This is followed by a supplication of sorts (a self-effacing formality) that Darcy is not disgraced by Elizabeth. He requests that they repeat the act of dancing and appearing together. This entreaty is a request to Darcy to please socialize more with Elizabeth. The conversation is not provoked by anything, and comes across as quite earnest. The indication of this is partly a reflection on William Lucas’s character and personality, that he is interested in introducing people and having them be tightly knit and happy.

He continues, and refers to an expectation of something taking place between Jane and Bingley. The expected event is imaginably a proposal, followed by a wedding and ostensibly more balls. This is primarily an indication that they will become engaged and celebrations will follow. William Lucas’s telling of this information may be considered emotionally motivated, that it will make Darcy and Elizabeth happy (as it has made him happy), experiencing joy at positive news.

He then politely excuses himself, raising Darcy by thanking him, and complimenting Elizabeth.

The latter part of this address was scarcely heard by Darcy; but Sir
William’s allusion to his friend seemed to strike him forcibly, and his
eyes were directed with a very serious expression towards Bingley and
Jane, who were dancing together. Recovering himself, however, shortly,
he turned to his partner, and said, “Sir William’s interruption has made
me forget what we were talking of.”

“I do not think we were speaking at all. Sir William could not have
interrupted two people in the room who had less to say for themselves.
We have tried two or three subjects already without success, and what we
are to talk of next I cannot imagine.”

The information exposed (the happy event) activates a change in Darcy, and a moment of his thinking is indicated, though not illustrated. Darcy’s reaction is significant, an indication of his concern regarding Bingley and Jane. If Darcy does not form his plan to separate the two at this point, this at least contributes to it.

That moment of thinking is distracting from the current situation, and whether he tells the truth about forgetting the topic of conversation, it allows a moment for conversational shift, giving power and responsibility to Elizabeth to lead the conversation once more.

Elizabeth makes negative comment toward prior conversation. This indicates that if conversation is to resume, it requires a topic. This counts as an offer to Darcy to determine a topic.

“What think you of books?” said he, smiling.

“Books—oh! no. I am sure we never read the same, or not with the same
feelings.”

“I am sorry you think so; but if that be the case, there can at least be
no want of subject. We may compare our different opinions.”

Darcy makes a positive offer that is ostensibly friendly, and is accompanied with a friendly gesture. The topic of books is acceptable and learned, but mundane and innocuous. This is also posed as a way of making closer his association with Elizabeth, because it is a topic that they both are interested in.

Elizabeth seems to reject the offer, acknowledging her fondness for books, but creating a distance between her and Darcy’s interests. This asserts that his interest and hers are different in nature.

Darcy presses, putting the difference Elizabeth posed in a positive light. This indicates that, while there may be a difference, that is reason for learning more. This is an offer indicative at surface of a broad mind (uncharacteristic of other impressions of Darcy). Because he presses in the positive, it is arguable that he is emotionally positive and engaged.

While they are not as witty and sparring in this exchange, it still reflects an evasiveness on Elizabeth’s part to not curry favor with Darcy. This is in contrast to the traditional values of the period, which would have her eagerly returning conversation.

“No—I cannot talk of books in a ball-room; my head is always full of
something else.”

“The present always occupies you in such scenes—does it?” said he,
with a look of doubt.

At the surface, Elizabeth rejects Darcy’s offer still, citing as excuse the context of the situation. Balls are not generally occasions for discussing books.

This snippet of conversation suggests that Elizabeth is engaged in
thought. It is also posed as an intrigue: what is occupying her so? This could be the state of the situation (the dancing), or something else (gossip, drama).

Darcy responds with an inquiry that Elizabeth is concerned with the present situation, but doubtfully. This effaces her statement, and counts as lowering.

“Yes, always,” she replied, without knowing what she said, for her
thoughts had wandered far from the subject, as soon afterwards appeared
by her suddenly exclaiming, “I remember hearing you once say, Mr. Darcy,
that you hardly ever forgave, that your resentment once created was
unappeasable. You are very cautious, I suppose, as to its being
created
.”

“I am,” said he, with a firm voice.

“And never allow yourself to be blinded by prejudice?”

“I hope not.”

Elizabeth affirms Darcy’s inquiry, which subjects herself to the lower. She is written as distracted, though what by is not given. The suggestion is that she is thinking of Wickham, and comparing Darcy’s positive demeanor to her earlier antagonism, producing an inconsistency.

Elizabeth makes a very direct inquiry to Darcy regarding his character. She recalls his statement about having unappeasable resentment, and poses that he is cautious in creating resentment. This comes across as an inquiry (asking if he is), and a threat, suggesting that if he is not, then that is a negative indication of his character.

This inquiry is a direct placement of Darcy’s character against Wickham’s. If Darcy is honorable (moral, or gentlemanly), then he will be (and was) cautious in creating his resentment, and conversely, Wickham would have made a severe indiscretion. Alternatively, Darcy could be an immoral character (as Elizabeth was thinking earlier) and his resentment was created incautiously. Were the latter the case, then he would lie or could not be trusted with his response to this question. Everything in Elizabeth’s interaction with Darcy in this conversation has suggested that Darcy has a sound moral standing.

Either case in estimation of Darcy’s character would produce the same conversational result, the response that he gives. However, the element of significance is conduct of his statement, the firmness of his voice.

The manner of this conversation so far is very direct on both parties. Elizabeth is asking questions in a very assertive manner as well.

“It is particularly incumbent on those who never change their opinion,
to be secure of judging properly at first.”

“May I ask to what these questions tend?”

“Merely to the illustration of your character,” said she, endeavouring
to shake off her gravity. “I am trying to make it out.”

“And what is your success?”

She shook her head. “I do not get on at all. I hear such different
accounts of you as puzzle me exceedingly.”

Elizabeth responds to Darcy’s assertion in his last line, and reemphasizes it with a threat, that he better be certain of his opinion. The subject of this threat is Darcy’s character, which has been the subject of intrigue.

Darcy detects the hostility in the statement and inquires as to Elizabeth’s motivations.

Elizabeth expresses that she is attempting to understand Darcy’s character, but it is unclear. The fact that she experiences this contradictory evidence requires not having an evaluation of Darcy’s character, but rather treats it as a confused entity, which is both negative and positive simultaneously. Elizabeth’s state of confusion is significant and has a strong effect on her disposition.

Darcy asks her success in determining his character and Elizabeth relates her confusion.

“I can readily believe,” answered he gravely, “that reports may vary
greatly with respect to me; and I could wish, Miss Bennet, that you were
not to sketch my character at the present moment, as there is reason to
fear that the performance would reflect no credit on either.”

“But if I do not take your likeness now, I may never have another
opportunity.”

“I would by no means suspend any pleasure of yours,” he coldly replied.

Darcy requests to Elizabeth that she not judge his character. This poses that his character is currently in a state undesirable to him. Were Darcy ostensibly more honorable, his character would not be admittedly vulnerable. His following suggestion that it would not reflect well on either of them comes across as a threat, though the material is less clear. This is a very defensive conversational move, acknowledging attack.

Elizabeth presses in her pursuit of Darcy’s character, suggesting (threatening?) that she will not be able to do so in the future. This suggests that the two will not have the chance to know each other better, and comes across as very finalistic.

Darcy responds directly, but negatively. This treats Elizabeth’s previous line as an attack, which was directly confronted. His mood is soured by the exchange.

She said no more, and they went down the other dance and parted in
silence; and on each side dissatisfied, though not to an equal degree,
for in Darcy’s breast there was a tolerable powerful feeling towards
her, which soon procured her pardon, and directed all his anger against
another.
This narrative segment indicates an intermediary phase. The dance ends, and the two leave on silent, and thus awkward and uncomfortable terms. The mood of each is given as dissatisfied, indicating mutual negativity.

An insight into Darcy’s mind is given that he redirects his mental antagonism elsewhere and restores a positive attitude toward Elizabeth. The subject of his antagonism is presumably Wickham (but this is not specified).

They had not long separated, when Miss Bingley came towards her, and
with an expression of civil disdain accosted her:

“So, Miss Eliza, I hear you are quite delighted with George Wickham!
Your sister has been talking to me about him, and asking me a thousand
questions; and I find that the young man quite forgot to tell you, among
his other communication, that he was the son of old Wickham, the late
Mr. Darcy’s steward. Let me recommend you, however, as a friend, not to
give implicit confidence to all his assertions; for as to Mr. Darcy’s
using him ill, it is perfectly false; for, on the contrary, he has
always been remarkably kind to him, though George Wickham has treated
Mr. Darcy in a most infamous manner. I do not know the particulars, but
I know very well that Mr. Darcy is not in the least to blame, that he
cannot bear to hear George Wickham mentioned, and that though my brother
thought that he could not well avoid including him in his invitation to
the officers, he was excessively glad to find that he had taken himself
out of the way. His coming into the country at all is a most insolent
thing, indeed, and I wonder how he could presume to do it. I pity you,
Miss Eliza, for this discovery of your favourite’s guilt; but really,
considering his descent, one could not expect much better.”

Miss Bingley approaches Elizabeth and opens up on a rant. The conversation appears to be private, so the purpose could not be embarrassment in social company. The exact motive behind this is unclear but could be towards lowering Elizabeth in relation to Miss Bingley, or towards instilling embarrassment in Elizabeth’s fondness of Wickham.

Miss Bingley’s text can be broken into several elements (all of them gossip): Revealing that she knows Elizabeth’s fondness to Wickham; revealing the sister’s asking questions (a social indiscretion; since Wickham is a tainted character); revealing of Wickham’s family relations to Darcy; asserting that Darcy was kind to Wickham (before indiscretion) — raising his status; that Wickham performed infamous indiscretion; that Bingley wished to avoid inviting Wickham; that there was relief in his absence; that Wickham’s appearance nearby was insolent.

The final lines are a clear lowering (I pity you), an implication of guilt on Wickham and on Elizabeth through association. It also conveys a strong allegiance to the associativity of social status to morality.

“His guilt and his descent appear by your account to be the same,” said
Elizabeth angrily; “for I have heard you accuse him of nothing worse
than of being the son of Mr. Darcy’s steward, and of that, I can
assure you, he informed me himself.”

“I beg your pardon,” replied Miss Bingley, turning away with a sneer.
“Excuse my interference—it was kindly meant.”

“Insolent girl!” said Elizabeth to herself. “You are much mistaken
if you expect to influence me by such a paltry attack as this. I see
nothing in it but your own wilful ignorance and the malice of Mr.
Darcy.”

(the rest of the analysis is incomplete so far)
She then sought her eldest sister, who has undertaken to make
inquiries on the same subject of Bingley. Jane met her with a smile of
such sweet complacency, a glow of such happy expression, as sufficiently
marked how well she was satisfied with the occurrences of the evening.
Elizabeth instantly read her feelings, and at that moment solicitude for
Wickham, resentment against his enemies, and everything else, gave way
before the hope of Jane’s being in the fairest way for happiness.
“I want to know,” said she, with a countenance no less smiling than her
sister’s, “what you have learnt about Mr. Wickham. But perhaps you have
been too pleasantly engaged to think of any third person; in which case
you may be sure of my pardon.”

“No,” replied Jane, “I have not forgotten him; but I have nothing
satisfactory to tell you. Mr. Bingley does not know the whole of
his history, and is quite ignorant of the circumstances which have
principally offended Mr. Darcy; but he will vouch for the good conduct,
the probity, and honour of his friend, and is perfectly convinced that
Mr. Wickham has deserved much less attention from Mr. Darcy than he has
received; and I am sorry to say by his account as well as his sister’s,
Mr. Wickham is by no means a respectable young man. I am afraid he has
been very imprudent, and has deserved to lose Mr. Darcy’s regard.”

“Mr. Bingley does not know Mr. Wickham himself?”

“No; he never saw him till the other morning at Meryton.”

“This account then is what he has received from Mr. Darcy. I am
satisfied. But what does he say of the living?”

“He does not exactly recollect the circumstances, though he has heard
them from Mr. Darcy more than once, but he believes that it was left to
him conditionally only.”

“I have not a doubt of Mr. Bingley’s sincerity,” said Elizabeth warmly;
“but you must excuse my not being convinced by assurances only. Mr.
Bingley’s defense of his friend was a very able one, I dare say; but
since he is unacquainted with several parts of the story, and has learnt
the rest from that friend himself, I shall venture to still think of
both gentlemen as I did before.”

She then changed the discourse to one more gratifying to each, and on
which there could be no difference of sentiment. Elizabeth listened with
delight to the happy, though modest hopes which Jane entertained of Mr.
Bingley’s regard, and said all in her power to heighten her confidence
in it. On their being joined by Mr. Bingley himself, Elizabeth withdrew
to Miss Lucas; to whose inquiry after the pleasantness of her last
partner she had scarcely replied, before Mr. Collins came up to them,
and told her with great exultation that he had just been so fortunate as
to make a most important discovery.
“I have found out,” said he, “by a singular accident, that there is now
in the room a near relation of my patroness. I happened to overhear the
gentleman himself mentioning to the young lady who does the honours of
the house the names of his cousin Miss de Bourgh, and of her mother Lady
Catherine. How wonderfully these sort of things occur! Who would have
thought of my meeting with, perhaps, a nephew of Lady Catherine de
Bourgh in this assembly! I am most thankful that the discovery is made
in time for me to pay my respects to him, which I am now going to
do, and trust he will excuse my not having done it before. My total
ignorance of the connection must plead my apology.”
“You are not going to introduce yourself to Mr. Darcy!”

“Indeed I am. I shall entreat his pardon for not having done it earlier.
I believe him to be Lady Catherine’s nephew. It will be in my power to
assure him that her ladyship was quite well yesterday se’nnight.”

Elizabeth tried hard to dissuade him from such a scheme, assuring him
that Mr. Darcy would consider his addressing him without introduction
as an impertinent freedom, rather than a compliment to his aunt; that
it was not in the least necessary there should be any notice on either
side; and that if it were, it must belong to Mr. Darcy, the superior in
consequence, to begin the acquaintance.

Mr. Collins listened to her
with the determined air of following his own inclination, and, when she
ceased speaking, replied thus:

“My dear Miss Elizabeth, I have the highest opinion in the world in
your excellent judgement in all matters within the scope of your
understanding; but permit me to say, that there must be a wide
difference between the established forms of ceremony amongst the laity,
and those which regulate the clergy; for, give me leave to observe that
I consider the clerical office as equal in point of dignity with
the highest rank in the kingdom—provided that a proper humility of
behaviour is at the same time maintained. You must therefore allow me to
follow the dictates of my conscience on this occasion, which leads me to
perform what I look on as a point of duty. Pardon me for neglecting to
profit by your advice, which on every other subject shall be my constant
guide, though in the case before us I consider myself more fitted by
education and habitual study to decide on what is right than a young
lady like yourself.”

And with a low bow he left her to attack Mr.
Darcy, whose reception of his advances she eagerly watched, and whose
astonishment at being so addressed was very evident. Her cousin prefaced
his speech with a solemn bow and though she could not hear a word of
it, she felt as if hearing it all, and saw in the motion of his lips the
words “apology,” “Hunsford,” and “Lady Catherine de Bourgh.” It vexed
her to see him expose himself to such a man. Mr. Darcy was eyeing him
with unrestrained wonder, and when at last Mr. Collins allowed him time
to speak, replied with an air of distant civility. Mr. Collins, however,
was not discouraged from speaking again, and Mr. Darcy’s contempt seemed
abundantly increasing with the length of his second speech, and at the
end of it he only made him a slight bow, and moved another way. Mr.
Collins then returned to Elizabeth.
“I have no reason, I assure you,” said he, “to be dissatisfied with my
reception. Mr. Darcy seemed much pleased with the attention. He answered
me with the utmost civility, and even paid me the compliment of saying
that he was so well convinced of Lady Catherine’s discernment as to be
certain she could never bestow a favour unworthily. It was really a very
handsome thought. Upon the whole, I am much pleased with him.”
As Elizabeth had no longer any interest of her own to pursue, she turned
her attention almost entirely on her sister and Mr. Bingley; and the
train of agreeable reflections which her observations gave birth to,
made her perhaps almost as happy as Jane. She saw her in idea settled in
that very house, in all the felicity which a marriage of true affection
could bestow; and she felt capable, under such circumstances, of
endeavouring even to like Bingley’s two sisters. Her mother’s thoughts
she plainly saw were bent the same way, and she determined not to
venture near her, lest she might hear too much. When they sat down to
supper, therefore, she considered it a most unlucky perverseness which
placed them within one of each other; and deeply was she vexed to find
that her mother was talking to that one person (Lady Lucas) freely,
openly, and of nothing else but her expectation that Jane would soon
be married to Mr. Bingley. It was an animating subject, and Mrs. Bennet
seemed incapable of fatigue while enumerating the advantages of the
match. His being such a charming young man, and so rich, and living but
three miles from them, were the first points of self-gratulation; and
then it was such a comfort to think how fond the two sisters were of
Jane, and to be certain that they must desire the connection as much as
she could do. It was, moreover, such a promising thing for her younger
daughters, as Jane’s marrying so greatly must throw them in the way of
other rich men; and lastly, it was so pleasant at her time of life to be
able to consign her single daughters to the care of their sister, that
she might not be obliged to go into company more than she liked. It was
necessary to make this circumstance a matter of pleasure, because on
such occasions it is the etiquette; but no one was less likely than Mrs.
Bennet to find comfort in staying home at any period of her life. She
concluded with many good wishes that Lady Lucas might soon be equally
fortunate, though evidently and triumphantly believing there was no
chance of it.
In vain did Elizabeth endeavour to check the rapidity of her mother’s
words, or persuade her to describe her felicity in a less audible
whisper; for, to her inexpressible vexation, she could perceive that the
chief of it was overheard by Mr. Darcy, who sat opposite to them. Her
mother only scolded her for being nonsensical.

“What is Mr. Darcy to me, pray, that I should be afraid of him? I am
sure we owe him no such particular civility as to be obliged to say
nothing he may not like to hear.”

“For heaven’s sake, madam, speak lower. What advantage can it be for you
to offend Mr. Darcy? You will never recommend yourself to his friend by
so doing!”

Nothing that she could say, however, had any influence. Her mother would
talk of her views in the same intelligible tone. Elizabeth blushed and
blushed again with shame and vexation. She could not help frequently
glancing her eye at Mr. Darcy, though every glance convinced her of what
she dreaded; for though he was not always looking at her mother, she was
convinced that his attention was invariably fixed by her. The expression
of his face changed gradually from indignant contempt to a composed and
steady gravity.
At length, however, Mrs. Bennet had no more to say; and Lady Lucas, who
had been long yawning at the repetition of delights which she saw no
likelihood of sharing, was left to the comforts of cold ham and
chicken. Elizabeth now began to revive.
But not long was the interval of
tranquillity; for, when supper was over, singing was talked of, and
she had the mortification of seeing Mary, after very little entreaty,
preparing to oblige the company. By many significant looks and silent
entreaties, did she endeavour to prevent such a proof of complaisance,
but in vain; Mary would not understand them; such an opportunity of
exhibiting was delightful to her, and she began her song. Elizabeth’s
eyes were fixed on her with most painful sensations, and she watched her
progress through the several stanzas with an impatience which was very
ill rewarded at their close; for Mary, on receiving, amongst the thanks
of the table, the hint of a hope that she might be prevailed on to
favour them again, after the pause of half a minute began another.
Mary’s powers were by no means fitted for such a display; her voice was
weak, and her manner affected. Elizabeth was in agonies. She looked at
Jane, to see how she bore it; but Jane was very composedly talking to
Bingley. She looked at his two sisters, and saw them making signs
of derision at each other, and at Darcy, who continued, however,
imperturbably grave.
She looked at her father to entreat his
interference, lest Mary should be singing all night. He took the hint,
and when Mary had finished her second song, said aloud, “That will do
extremely well, child. You have delighted us long enough. Let the other
young ladies have time to exhibit.”

Mary, though pretending not to hear, was somewhat disconcerted; and
Elizabeth, sorry for her, and sorry for her father’s speech, was afraid
her anxiety had done no good. Others of the party were now applied to.

“If I,” said Mr. Collins, “were so fortunate as to be able to sing, I
should have great pleasure, I am sure, in obliging the company with an
air; for I consider music as a very innocent diversion, and perfectly
compatible with the profession of a clergyman. I do not mean, however,
to assert that we can be justified in devoting too much of our time
to music, for there are certainly other things to be attended to. The
rector of a parish has much to do. In the first place, he must make
such an agreement for tithes as may be beneficial to himself and not
offensive to his patron. He must write his own sermons; and the time
that remains will not be too much for his parish duties, and the care
and improvement of his dwelling, which he cannot be excused from making
as comfortable as possible. And I do not think it of light importance
that he should have attentive and conciliatory manner towards everybody,
especially towards those to whom he owes his preferment. I cannot acquit
him of that duty; nor could I think well of the man who should omit an
occasion of testifying his respect towards anybody connected with the
family.” And with a bow to Mr. Darcy, he concluded his speech, which had
been spoken so loud as to be heard by half the room.
Many stared—many
smiled; but no one looked more amused than Mr. Bennet himself, while his
wife seriously commended Mr. Collins for having spoken so sensibly,
and observed in a half-whisper to Lady Lucas, that he was a remarkably
clever, good kind of young man.

To Elizabeth it appeared that, had her family made an agreement to
expose themselves as much as they could during the evening, it would
have been impossible for them to play their parts with more spirit or
finer success; and happy did she think it for Bingley and her sister
that some of the exhibition had escaped his notice, and that his
feelings were not of a sort to be much distressed by the folly which he
must have witnessed. That his two sisters and Mr. Darcy, however, should
have such an opportunity of ridiculing her relations, was bad enough,
and she could not determine whether the silent contempt of the
gentleman, or the insolent smiles of the ladies, were more intolerable.

The rest of the evening brought her little amusement. She was teased by
Mr. Collins, who continued most perseveringly by her side, and though
he could not prevail on her to dance with him again, put it out of her
power to dance with others. In vain did she entreat him to stand up with
somebody else, and offer to introduce him to any young lady in the room.
He assured her, that as to dancing, he was perfectly indifferent to it;
that his chief object was by delicate attentions to recommend himself to
her and that he should therefore make a point of remaining close to her
the whole evening. There was no arguing upon such a project. She owed
her greatest relief to her friend Miss Lucas, who often joined them, and
good-naturedly engaged Mr. Collins’s conversation to herself.
She was at least free from the offense of Mr. Darcy’s further notice;
though often standing within a very short distance of her, quite
disengaged, he never came near enough to speak. She felt it to be the
probable consequence of her allusions to Mr. Wickham, and rejoiced in
it.
The Longbourn party were the last of all the company to depart, and, by
a manoeuvre of Mrs. Bennet, had to wait for their carriage a quarter of
an hour after everybody else was gone, which gave them time to see how
heartily they were wished away by some of the family. Mrs. Hurst and her
sister scarcely opened their mouths, except to complain of fatigue, and
were evidently impatient to have the house to themselves. They repulsed
every attempt of Mrs. Bennet at conversation, and by so doing threw a
languor over the whole party, which was very little relieved by the
long speeches of Mr. Collins, who was complimenting Mr. Bingley and his
sisters on the elegance of their entertainment, and the hospitality and
politeness which had marked their behaviour to their guests. Darcy said
nothing at all. Mr. Bennet, in equal silence, was enjoying the scene.
Mr. Bingley and Jane were standing together, a little detached from the
rest, and talked only to each other. Elizabeth preserved as steady a
silence as either Mrs. Hurst or Miss Bingley; and even Lydia was too
much fatigued to utter more than the occasional exclamation of “Lord,
how tired I am!” accompanied by a violent yawn.
When at length they arose to take leave, Mrs. Bennet was most pressingly
civil in her hope of seeing the whole family soon at Longbourn, and
addressed herself especially to Mr. Bingley, to assure him how happy he
would make them by eating a family dinner with them at any time, without
the ceremony of a formal invitation. Bingley was all grateful pleasure,
and he readily engaged for taking the earliest opportunity of waiting on
her, after his return from London, whither he was obliged to go the next
day for a short time.
Mrs. Bennet was perfectly satisfied, and quitted the house under the
delightful persuasion that, allowing for the necessary preparations of
settlements, new carriages, and wedding clothes, she should undoubtedly
see her daughter settled at Netherfield in the course of three or four
months. Of having another daughter married to Mr. Collins, she thought
with equal certainty, and with considerable, though not equal, pleasure.
Elizabeth was the least dear to her of all her children; and though the
man and the match were quite good enough for her, the worth of each
was eclipsed by Mr. Bingley and Netherfield.

Project: A Short Guide to Writing About Games

[General,Projects] (02.02.09, 10:19 pm)

I met with one of LCC’s faculty the other day, the extremely wise and knowledgeable Karen Head, who is an expert on all things Jane Austen. She was kind enough to lend me a book, Timothy Corrigan’s A Short Guide to Writing About Film, which is useful in analyzing film adaptation and thinking about the language of film reviewing and criticism. I spent some time reading through it, and suddenly realized, we need one of these for GAMES. Think about it: a guide to thinking about and writing about games critically, aimed at a general audience. To my knowledge there are no sources about this addressed to general audiences.

There are game reviews, which discuss the space of playing games, but there are few general reviews that discuss games that might lead toward their conception as aesthetic artifacts. I know there are discussions and essays to this effect, but, as everyone in game studies is quick to tell you, we are in want of a language for talking about these things. We have works which aim to discuss design with a critical vocabulary, and these efforts are to be commended, but few to think about them from the perspective of the consumers. Game reviews have yet to reach the maturity of film reviews, but I think that this could still be achieved. What is missing is a guide to writing about games that focuses on them as works, as artifacts which convey messages and meaning. Such an approach would examine mechanics and gameplay as compositional elements.

I want to write this, but it will take a bit of time.

Further thoughts on Pride and Prejudice

[General,Research] (01.28.09, 1:25 am)

I am working away on an analysis, a kind of deep reading of one of the chapters in the book. My goal behind this is to learn what things are happening symbolically within the story world, and find ways of abstracting those into some kind of format that can be easily modeled. My plan has been to do cycles of analysis and then design, and repeat the process, getting in a few good cycles. I hoped to get the analysis done last week, and the design done by Thursday, but I am only halfway through with the chapter analysis. Part of the problem is my fault for simply writing too much. Hopefully this will not prove to be problematic.

However, I did have a few preliminary notes:

Social variables / currencies are:

  • money
  • happiness
  • social status (this is moral standing in social landscape)

core character traits are:

  • moral standing (gentlemanliness) in Austen’s moral landscape
  • pride – sense of self value
  • prejudice – disposition toward (usually against) other characters. Prejudice is also an indication of the rate of change of one’s opinions
  • adherence to social codes

notes:

  • prejudice offsets moral interpretation of others
  • pride offsets moral interpretation of self ?
  • high adherence involves interpretation of social status as morality, otherwise treats real moral standing (evidenced by actions) as such

Types of conversation atoms:

gestures:

  • offer: offer a topic of conversation
  • observation: special form of offer, commenting on something in situation
  • press: press an offer (if it has been rejected)
  • reject: decline an offer, potentially giving an excuse
  • pause: make no response to an offer
  • accept: accept the offer and respond to it in some form
  • respond: an accept in response to an observation
  • display emotion: blushing, growing pale, looking struck or taken aback
  • proposition: a kind of observation, suggest that something is true, generally of the conversation partner. This may be a raise or lower among others
  • agree: accept and respond positively to a proposition
  • disagree: deny and reject negatively a proposition
  • request: a special kind of offer, ask a character to engage in some activity or situation
  • gossip: a special kind of observation where the speaker shares some potentially hidden information
  • inquire: an offer that asks the conversation partner to gossip or make a proposition
  • intrigue: make an ambiguous statement which would require an inquiry to make sense, also may require a lowering of status to ask
  • defer: an accept that is accompanied with either an agreement or an inquiry for the partner to continue on

status related:

  • raise: compliment someone in some direct manner
  • lower: tease or lower someone socially
  • tease: special form of lower, indicate other’s failure to abide by social convention of conduct
  • misdirect: redirect a tease to the teaser, ignoring the accusation and reconstructing it
  • grab: attempt to raise own status by claiming authority in situation
  • threat: generally has the form of an inquiry, which suggests a grave violation of conduct were the threat transgressed. This may be used to refer to events in the past
  • pull together: associate two characters by comparison
  • distance: dissociate two characters through refuting comparison

ArtScripter

[General,Projects] (01.25.09, 2:22 am)

This is an idea for a playful project that uses scripting and meta programming. The application consists of two windows (or panels, whatever), one is for rendering, and the other is for editing. The renderer will initially be blank, but gradually will display some sort of animated image. The editor window will have some control features, but will primarily consist of a simple editor window, where the user can enter in code and then try to load it into the renderer.

The primary mechanic for working is not to create and replace, but to add new drawing scripts on top of each other. Over time, the drawing will become lively and complex. The idea is to enable the user to do things that are more feasible and straightforward in code than in some graphical or symbolic system.

One of the challenges is that, in order for it to work well, the editor needs to be good. Ideally it should be possible to embed some real editor, which would be difficult, but it can be done. The interface for creating the drawing scripts would need to be clear, too. Whatever code is necessary for drawing should be something that will be familiar to the user, or easy to pick up immediately.

It looks like an interesting idea. It should be straightforward to pull off in my copious free time. Right?

Pride and Prejudice Game

[General,Research] (01.22.09, 12:50 am)

Overview

In order to adapt a fictional world, it is necessary to adapt the world’s model. Discerning and constructing a model is a complex and delicate act, and it requires creativity and agency. This process, as a subset of adaptation, falls within the broad category of translation. Modern theories of translation are varied, but to guide my approach to adaptation, I will borrow from the position popularized by Itamar Even-Zohar and Gideon Toury that a text should be understood as having a relationship and life within a culture, and that to translate a work is to continue that text through time. Adaptation specifically not only continues the text through time, but also through media. Adaptations subject texts to the affordances and constraints of different media, letting the source text not only live in a new era, but also be seen in a new light, from many perspectives. Throughout these translations and adaptations, there is something, some essence of the original text that is preserved. That essence is the model that underlies the world in which the text takes place. Model is a term that I am borrowing from mathematics, indicating a formal and causal structure which illustrates the values and possibilities of the world, of which the course of the text is but one outcome.

The particular perspective that I am espousing for this particular work, Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice, is that of a videogame. This is, a seemingly unusual direction to take Austen’s work, but there are many reasons why such a project is a viable, and even ideal. I will start with the political reasons, as these are my driving motivations on this project.

Political Motivations

Genre is a significant problem with popular games. Many if not most games developers feel limited to a few narrow genres that seem to dominate the medium, especially in consumer publications. Games that are not sports, first person shooters, massively multiplayer, simulation, real time strategy, rhythm games, Japanese style roleplaying, fantasy adventures, or platformers, tend to be cast as oddities. This brief list includes genres that are defined both by mechanics, interaction, as well as themes, which is fine because this is largely how games tend to be marketed. The domains of political and casual games are important and growing, but are still popularly considered outliers. This casting does not prevent new genres for forming or becoming popular. Both Guitar Hero and Grand Theft Auto 3 were medium defining products. However, there is still a prevalent sense within the game industry that genre boundaries cannot be blurred. This restraint is severely limiting to developers and presents a new subset of problems.

In the case of adaptation, many games are adapted from fiction and film, a tradition that goes back all the way to the Atari 2600 days. This practice remains strong today, and one of the chief expenses of the mainstream game industry is purchasing the rights to intellectual property. However, among these games, the genres are even more narrow. Almost all games that are adapted tend to be action style games, adapted from action or adventure films, with elements of shooters or platformers. In terms of the scope of possible adaptations, this field is extremely narrow. While Joseph Campbell’s monomyth is broad, it is far from universality or majority in culture. Many films and narratives are made which exist outside of this tiny scope. These remain inaccessible until new methods for adaptation are formed.

Not all games aspire towards artistic expression, and not all game developers or designers see art practice as the essence of their work. I think that they would consider games a medium though, and while expression may not be a central goal of creating an artifact in a medium, it is a consequence. A vocal subset of game designers have realized that this expression something over which they can exert authorial and artistic intent, and have encouraged games acceptance to this end. Some of these practitioners have created works with wild success, and while popular recognition of these artistic elements is growing, the community which is receptive to these artistic intentions is eclectic. Avant garde is a form of artistic practice which could never be popular due to its nature, but games must find some stage between popularity, entertainment, and artistic legitimacy in order to move forward.

The most searing indictment against mainstream games, at least in terms of legitimacy, is gender. Even beyond products marketed explicitly towards the “hardcore gamer” demographic, much of gaming community is composed of adolescent males, and this culture has created a perpetuating, misogynistic environment that is actively hostile to women. A medium cannot attain legitimacy if it excludes half of the population, and the juvenile culture and reputation only harms the chances of games being taken seriously as a medium. This indictment applies to the mainstream game industry, as notable exceptions occur with products such as The Sims and the category of casual games.

Adaptation of sources that lie outside of the narrow genres of action and adventure, specifically those in traditionally female dominated narratives is the answer to unlocking the puzzle of genre and legitimacy.

But: Why Jane Austen?

Jane Austen is an unlikely but surprisingly ideal candidate for adaptation. One of the reasons for this is because her books have a strong history of adaptation. In fact, there seems to be an entire culture built around recreating the works of Jane Austen. Despite her reputed stuffiness, her works and the adaptations thereof are unexpectedly mainstream. We feel this influence most strongly in film, especially in explicit adaptations which are set historically. There are also a number of works which are adaptations, but cast Austen’s values in contemporary settings, where they remain surprisingly coherent. Examples of these contemporary adaptations are the 1995 film Clueless, and Helen Fielding’s book Bridget Jones’s diary. These adaptations are important because they do not cast Austen’s world in terms of its representational elements, but rather, in terms of its values and mechanics.

The other remarkable quality of Austen’s world is that it has had a propensity for extension. Austen was succeeded by a number of other authors (although admittedly much less talented), who saw fit to write sequels to her novels. This practice may be thought of as a sort of contemporaneous fan fiction. This sort of extension is not unique to Austen, especially as there are other authors, especially in pulp fiction who collaborated and built upon each others’ worlds. A good example of this practice comes from H.P. Lovecraft, whose contemporaries extended his world as well as his particular style and formula for writing. Austen’s culture of adaptation can be thought of as extending her world and values.

A final reason why Pride and Prejudice (and Austen in general) is an ideal candidate for adaptation comes from the structure of the book itself. The plot of the story revolves around Elizabeth Bennett, the second of five daughters. The problem with this situation is that the family property has been entailed, meaning that it must pass to a male heir. Thus, whenever Mr. Bennett dies, then the entire family will be without property and cast into poverty. This premise sets up a perfect stage for a game. The player, as Elizabeth Bennet, must navigate a social landscape, make careful choices, and attempt to become successful in the world’s three currencies: money, status, and love.

Despite the textual nature of Austen’s writing, her world continues to be popular and engaging. The culture of adaptation surrounding Austen suggests that her world continues beyond the form of the novel in which it was first revealed to us. If we are to adapt Austen, we must adapt her world, and to do that, we must adapt the world’s model. In this process of adaptation, we aim to transfer the essence, the living matter that makes Austen’s world so vibrant, from one medium into another. This new medium has its own affordances and structures, so the transference must be extremely careful, in order to find ways that the source can be well connected to the new medium. The model of Pride and Prejudice is well suited to adaptation into game mechanics. But in order to see precisely why this is the case, it is necessary to examine the model of the world in detail.

The Model and Mechanics of Pride and Prejudice

If we believe that Austen’s world has a model in the first place, then it must be expressible in some sort of formal and relational structure. I use the term model in the sense borrowed from mathematics. I will not examine a comprehensive definition of models in this paper, but I will rather use a loose one. A model is a formal structure (meaning that it can be written down mathematically or programatically) which describes the states and possible behaviors of a system. The notion of system as used here is very broad, denoting the entire story world, including all of its characters, places, and events. In this section, I want to focus on the mechanics, specifically. This is the aspect of the model that informs how states change and what sorts of things happen.

To think about mechanics in a literary world is to think about the sorts of things that happen in that world. There are two issues at stake with this: One is to look at climactic or dramatic events, and the other is to look at the mundane, everyday events. A accurate portrayal of mechanics must involve both. In many projects to explore dramatic domains, the focus has been to examine dramatic events only. Narrative tends to exert a sort of dramatic compression, where a lot of information, the boring content that is unnecessary or distracting from the dramatic elements is excised. Story generation programs struggle with this, because computationally there is a fine line between dramatic compression and incoherence. However, within texts, there are backgrounds, and it is these backgrounds that help fill in and flesh out the world, making it engaging and believable. In a world that is simulated, the relationship between dramatic and mundane events resembles the relationship in film rather than the stage. Backgrounds are fleshed out with participating individuals, but only a few take up focus.

some sort of negotiation and compromise between dramatic and mundane elements to the world must be employed. If all mundane elements are removed, then the story will devolve into a plot, which would be dry, formulaic, and removed from the elements of the living world. If there were no compression at all, the matter of relevance and significance of events would be muddled among a blur noise and tangential events. Thus, both dramatic events and non-dramatic events must be at play in the model. Non dramatic events tend to fill in the background, to create a sense of environment, in which the dramatic events are situated. In his essay “Where the Action Is” Erving Goffman gives a typology of actions: Actions are either consequential or inconsequential, and they can be either problematic or unproblematic. Dramatic actions are consequential and usually problematic. Mundane actions are unproblematic.

Characters also adhere to an elaborate social code. Social interaction has a scripted and ritual structure. These rituals range from the small and simple, such as a conversation, a meal, or a card game, to the moderate, a social visit, or an extended visit, a ball, to the very broad, of which the best and primary example is courtship. These rituals have an explicit structure, and are understood as symbolic elements of the literary world, but they are also flexible. What is important in a simple ritual is partly the significance of the ritual itself, but also (and primarily) the conduct of the characters involved. Additionally, some rituals may include choices, and there are methods and formulas for making those choices that are consistent with the ritual structure. Rituals may be violated, and while it is rare in short rituals, moderate and extended ones experience all manner of violations, which is the cause of a great deal of social distress and embarrassment. I mentioned earlier that the three forms of currency in Pride and Prejudice are money, love, and status. Status is harmed by erring in or violating these rituals.

Ritual can be well understood using the language of performance, especially as explored by Goffman and Schechner. Given other performance oriented theories relating to computation, digital media, and roleplaying games, this seems like an appropriate tool to use. Goffman’s theory of performance also lays out mechanics for the functions of deference, demeanor, and embarrassment. These theories place great emphasis on conduct and enactment, which seems to be in key with the way that characters must act in Austen’s literary world.

To model the mechanics of a fictional world, we must understand what things can happen within the world. In this section, we have outlined an approach to looking at how things happen, using the method of performance.

Being There

In the overall goal of adaptation of a story world into a game, the reader must be transformed into a player. It is possible to give the player the seat of a spectator, where the world unfolds and takes place, giving the player control over certain influences, or direct control over all of the characters, much like in The Sims, but that does not seem consistent with the way in which Austen’s world is adapted in practice. The practice of adaptation aims to recreate an experience of the world. Thus, the player must exist and dwell within the world, taking control over a character, and have a stake in what happens to that character within the course of the game. Pride and Prejudice fortunately gives us a character, Elizabeth Bennett, who happens to not only be the protagonist, but also have very unclear motivation throughout the story. Elizabeth Bennett is the clever daughter who has principles, but no explicit goals, in contrast to the rest of the cast, all of whom have very well defined goals.

The experience of being a character situates the player within the world, within a structured environment. By virtue of being a character, the player must have a great deal of freedom, but is also limited significantly by what is possible within the story world. For example, there are a great many ways for a character to conduct herself that are consistent with the structure and expectations of the story world. It should be possible for the player to do almost anything that the other characters do in the book. However, certain things that a game player could think to do might be well outside the scope of the story world. Players as a demographic tend to passionately explore all the possibilities and the extremities of game worlds, testing them to see how far they go. As a design goals, it should be possible for players to do anything that makes sense, but to disallow or provide consequences for anything that is too outlandish. Pride and Prejudice is a good example of a world that contains some of this sort of feedback within the world mechanics. There are strong social codes, and violating those codes will ruin a character’s status and reputation.

Cognition Paper

[General,Projects,Research] (01.22.09, 12:41 am)

Introduction

The purpose of my research is to simulate fictional worlds. The challenge to be explored in this paper is the conflicted role of AI within this investigation. I argue that existing approaches to AI are insufficient to tackle this greater problem, and an approach to AI that addresses a social and cultural context is necessary beyond one that addresses individual agents. To understand why, we must closely look into the topic of simulating fictional worlds.

Specifically, my goal is to adapt fictional worlds into games. This grand project is rife with complexity and challenges. I can not hope to provide give a complete exposition on this problem, but rather, my aim is to provide a method or approach for looking at adaptation. The essence of adaptation consists of several steps, but my goal within this paper is to illustrate the challenges pertaining to developing the model of the fictional world, and thinking of it computationally.

It is not my intention to discuss the actual domain in much of the paper, but it is worth mentioning for reasons of contextualization. The narrative to be adapted is the novel Pride and Prejudice, published by Jane Austen
in 1813. While it would seem to be an odd and perhaps counter intuitive target for study, it is a rich domain and on close investigation is unusually well suited for the adaptation problem. The reasons for this are twofold: The first is that Austen has a community and tradition of adaptation. Her novels have been frequently adapted into film, and have spawned other literary adaptations and continuations. The second reason is that Pride and Prejudice has a surprisingly game-like story world. The world has the values of love, money, and social status. Characters interact socially at well defined social situations. They take part in cultural rituals of various scales: from a small scale ritual such as a card game, to a moderate scale ritual such as a social visit or a ball, to broad scale rituals such as courtship.

Let us explore the conceptual steps to looking at the picture of adaptation. First, we understand that fiction defines a world, not just an individual story. A world is the stage on which the plot of the story is enacted. The world itself is defined by a model. That distinction means that the fiction includes some details and excludes others, and lays out a scope of possibility for what can plausibly occur within that world. Building and interpreting the model is a creative act, and is by no means straightforward. Much like translation itself, interpretation is necessary, but subjective. Accepting that we can understand a story world in terms of a model, we can form a computational representation of that model.

The idea that fiction is foremost a world and secondarily a story ties into the work of narratologists David Herman and Marie-Laure Ryan [Herman 2004, Ryan 2006]. The actual narrative defines a sequence of events through the story world. As such, the resulting story is just one of many possible stories that could occur in the world. Furthermore, the writing shapes the nature and properties of the world through the language used. The last step wherein . This is the step that receives the least attention in this paper.

That a story world can be understood in terms of a model is essentially a structuralist claim, and it requires opening up the idea of what a model means. The word model implies a symbolic formulation of objects and rules. For the story world to be understood as a model, it must be first interpreted. The complexity and consequences of this interpretation is quite deep, and is explored in this paper. Once defined, though, it can represent the possibilities of the story world with some coherence. When used to analyze story worlds, models are generally understood vaguely, without explicit formalization.

My main concern for this paper is with the last step: Once we have a model of the story world, how can that be transformed into something that may be simulated computationally? Characters act according to the model of the story world, but exactly how they act and what they do requires some additional work. The field of AI seeks to provide a computational solution to the intelligence and behavior of characters. However, the traditional use of AI relies on assumptions which are inappropriate for the adaptation of fiction. We shall see many challenges posed by traditional AI. These challenges shall be matched with contrasting perspectives that reformulate the constraints of AI in a way that makes them usable for the adaptation of story worlds. This reformulation does not reject the use of symbolic AI, but changes the target of representation from the individual to the broader cultural system.

Cognition and Representation

Artificial intelligence has a detailed and intricate history shaped by many individuals and many different philosophical biases. AI is not a single ideology, it is a tradition shaped by many ideologies. There does exist within the discipline a strong current of particular ideas, which I shall call traditional AI. This is also known as “Good Old Fashioned AI”, or GOFAI, or just symbolic AI. GOFAI is a movement and perspective on computation and cognition that derives from the work of Newell and Simon. The heart of this is the physical symbol system hypothesis: “A physical symbol system has the necessary and sufficient means for general intelligent action.” [Newell 76]

A physical symbol system is essentially a formal model. The physical symbol system uses rules to operate on existing symbols and transform them into new ones. Such systems are symbolic abstractions of the Turing machine. Formal models are powerful tools, and will be employed to great effect later in this paper. However, the relationship between formal model and intelligent action is far more problematic than the physical symbol system hypothesis might first suggest.

The ostensible goal of AI is to provide a computational solution for intelligence. Exactly what this means ranges widely between AI applications. For expert systems, intelligence means an encyclopedic knowledge of a domain. For planners, it means the ability to formulate a plan for a successful course of actions within a particular problem domain or environment. AI applications tend to provide solutions for problems that could ordinarily be solved by a human individual. The intelligence as described by AI is significantly different from applied human intelligence.

AI still serves a valuable function, but to understand its value, we must examine the practice of AI, and what it aims to achieve.

While AI problem solving is intelligent, in the sense that it finds a solution for a complicated task, it is not the same as a human solving the problem. This distinction can be seen in several lights. One perspective on human problem solving is to view a human engaging with a problem as a whole system. The human is not one isolated mind, but an individual in a situation making use of situational affordances. Examples range between a mathematician proving a theorem, or an airplane pilot adjusting the speed of a plane [Hutchins 95, 98]. Even mathematicians, whose work is largely cerebral, make use of situational aids, such as paper or a chalkboard, and use culturally established conventions for conducting proofs. AI can not make use of these affordances, and an AI application is not substitutable for the human doing the problem solving. Instead, the AI represents the entire system, creating representations of the affordances used in memory. This is a distinction between representation and embodiment.

The practice of AI cannot hope to represent all of the interwoven parts demanded by an open approach to cognitive science. The vast sensory apparatus of human experience, replete with cultural and embodied meanings, would be nearly impossible to transform into a computational system. Even from a technical perspective, the human brain is far more distributed than today’s computers. Instead, AI is limited to represent very abstract elements of human cognition. Human activity that operates at a clear symbolic level can be performed computationally without duress. Activities such as these are rote calculations, theorem proving, navigation, path planning, and so on. These activities are embodied, but they may be interpreted and described at a symbolic level, and this is the level on which AI can operate.

However, this process of symbolic transformation is not a clear task. Even for a relatively straightforward application such as a path planner, how the path is represented symbolically can make a major impact on how the algorithm can be understood in context. For example, if the algorithm assumes that the planning agent already knows the environment in which it must plan, versus having it need to discover the environment dynamically. The agent may read in the data for the environment absolutely, or it may be limited in terms of what it can perceive (it may not be able to see around an obstacle, for instance). The environment itself may be represented as discrete or continuous space. These differences involve significant changes in the representations and symbols used within the model. All of these inform the discourse around the AI system.

Representation connects a model to the world, either the physical world, or the world of human meaning. For the purposes of building a simulation of characters, representation is a major element. For providing characters that are believable, that can be simulated to act like characters within actual fiction, intelligence is absolutely necessary. However, the role of intelligence is somewhat unusual. AI applications are built around problem solving, so in order to simulate characters with AI, the task must be posed as some sort of problem. There is a tradition of AI applications which simulate characters and fictional worlds, and I’ll review those here, and connect them to the larger agenda of problem solving.

AI projects that simulate characters tend to fall under two categories: simulations and story generators. The latter category are software that generate stories in the form of text readable by people. One of the earliest and most influential story generation projects was Tale-Spin, which set characters in an imaginary cartoon-like forest world, where animals would interact with each other and try to satisfy goals [Meehan 1976]. Tale-Spin is notable because of instances where stories would fall into infinite cycles. The architecture used a system of planning that exclusively focused on characters, and has been criticized for not accounting for the plans of the story author.

Both Lebowitz’s Universe [Lebowitz 1984] and Turner’s Minstrel [Turner 1994] story generation systems were influenced by Meehan, but these took alternative models to story construction. Universe relied on the author’s narrative goals, which would frequently include constructing situations that would be against the interests of the characters themselves. The system was applied to generate soap-opera stories, and maintain a consistent level of complexity and interest. I would argue that Universe is not precisely a story generation system, but rather a plot generation system instead. Minstrel is aimed at constructing stories creatively, and uses creativity based on analogical reasoning and self evaluation. The model of Minstrel is centered on the process of the author.

In addition to story generators, games have played a strong role in the representation of characters. Games fall under the category of simulations, and represent characters by having the characters engage with the user interactively. The strongest example of characters in games The Sims, which is a notable title for many reasons. The Sims uses a model of behavior that is not based on planning, but rather on needs and motivations that is inspired from Maslow’s hierarchy of needs. The Sims allows players to observe and command the virtual characters (called sims), who interact with objects and each other in a compelling (if not realistic) manner.

A final example of simulated characters is in the AI project Facade, by Mateas and Stern [Mateas 2002]. Facade is an interactive drama, where the player represents a character who visits the house of two longtime friends, Grace and Trip, whose marriage disintegrates over the course of the evening, with the player stuck in the middle. Facade is built to ascribe to the principles of Aristotelian drama, where the tension is meant to fluctuate according to a defined dramatic arc. The simulation is organized by a drama manager, which introduces events to alter the dramatic flow of the experience.

Each of these projects makes use of an explicit model of the story world that they represent. The types of models direct the expressive and representative capability of the resulting system.

For characters to be represented computationally, they must be understood at a symbolic level. This is the heart of the transformation of the story world’s model into computational form. The decisions that must be faced in constructing symbolic representations inform the discourse of the simulation. Because this is a process of adaptation, that discourse of the simulation must be woven into the discourse of the narrative itself. Because of the nature of the domain, an approach that follows in the tradition of GOFAI would be very inappropriate. Story worlds convey more than minds, plans, and psychology of individual characters. A simulation must convey the system of interaction between the characters, and the essence of the world of which they are a part.

Adaptation and Models

The process of translation not only extends a work of literature into a new language, but also extends the work in time. Texts have a life within a culture, which will emerge, grow, bloom, and eventually dwindle. Translation is a means to breathe new life into a text, extending it in time, and into a new cultural world [Bassnett 2002]. This extension come with a set of challenges. A text is necessarily connected tightly to the cultural system whence it originates. The translator is responsible for not only preserving the identity of the text being transferred, but also weaving it into the new culture. The focus of my work is not translation, but rather it’s sibling, adaptation.

Adaptation carries with it all the burdens of translation, but brings the source text not only into a new time, and culture, but into a new medium. This extra dimension brings in added complexity, but it also changes the perspective on the problem of translation. Media speak with their own languages, with conventions established by genres and existing works. Even within a single format, there are different forms: The conventions of the epic poem are different from the conventions of the novel, or the short story.

A productive way of seeing fiction is not as a static or formal artifact, but rather as a world. When characters make choices within a fictional text, their futures are already written. But for those choices to be meaningful to readers, the futures must be imagined as dynamic. Similarly, works define a space of meanings and possibilities. Story worlds are not reflections of what is foretold within a written narrative, but they represent what has the potential to occur at each moment within the world where that narrative takes place.

At a distance, the problem of adaptation operates on some sort of space of equivalence. The individual adapted works are very different, but adaptations and translations must have something in common with the source material. That something is some common intrinsic structure belonging to a work that must be preserved across language and media for a translation or adaptation to be successful. This structure must illustrate the types of characters, relationships, events, plot points, and so on. This intrinsic essence is what I call the work’s model.

A model conveys the essence and meaning of a text. It also conveys the values and most important elements. The model should be imagined as the bricks and mortar which build the space in which the narrative plays out. Johnson-Laird [Johnson-Laird 1983] explains that models are a tool for cognition and are a functional understanding of the world. Narratologist David Herman bridges the space between narrative and cognitive science. Narrative defines a world, and readers understand a story by understanding the underlying model. “This amounts to claiming, rather unspectacularly, that people try to understand a narrative by figuring out what particular interpretation of characters, circumstances, actions, and events informs the design of the story.” [Herman 2004] The actual narrative then, is but one trace through a live simulation of this model.

Forming Models

A problem in building models is what to include versus exclude. The construction of a model is a significant and meaningful act. When one constructs a model of some system or domain, some information is included, and designated as important, and other information is disregarded, and designated as unimportant. This simple and initial step is an important and fundamental case of meaning making. Some branches of cognitive science [Johnson-Laird 1983, Gentner 1983] argue that the construction of models is a basic unit of cognition. By virtue of this isolation, models impose values on the phenomena that they represent.

Models that make use of classifications also impose values. Bowker and Star discuss the political ramifications of classification and sorting, explaining that classifications create ethical claims on the material that they describe [Bowker and Star 1999]. The imposition of classifications says a great deal about what one values in those systems.

A simple example is to look at models of fiction as answers to questions about some particular narrative. Consider an example of classic film such as Citizen Kane. What is this film about? The immediate answers to this question will lay the foundation for a model that describes the work. “It’s about lost childhood,” “It’s about the ambiguity and elusiveness of truth,” “It’s a fictional biography,” “It’s about William Hearst.” Each of these answers begins to describe the essential elements of the film. When describing what is important, the weight and emphasis given to different characteristics shapes the bias of the model as a whole.

Realistically, none of these can claim to have a hold on an absolute truth. Each of them expresses a way of looking at the material with a certain perspective. As is the case in critical thinking, the reader must take a position on the text, and that is the first step toward building a model. Depending on what sort of interest or agenda the reader might have in approaching a text, that will color the reader’s perspective. Models are not right or wrong, but they may be more or less useful depending on the perspective of the interpreter. Scientific theory is a domain where there are many models, often contradictory ones. Newtonian physics is inconsistent with Einsteinean physics, but they are not right or wrong, they are instead or less useful or appliccable to a given problem.

We must be aware of the models we use in approaching a text for adaptation. It is easy to approach a text with a position already established, and this may color the resulting interpretation. It is not possible to come to a text with a blank slate, or if we could, then we would not be able to understand the text at all, because it would not connect to anything in our experience. It is instead necessary to be aware of the models that already exist in mind when interpreting a work.

Both the process of interpretation and the process of creation involve building models. When approaching a text or a procedural artifact, the reader will bring their own models and perspective to the work. There is a cognitive interplay between both the world of the creator and the world of the reader around a created artifact. However, the model belonging to the work may come to take on a life of its own, revealing elements missing from the models of both the reader and the author.

BioChemFX is a detailed and elaborate simulation of deadly chemicals being released in an urban area. The simulation is designed to help develop safety procedures and train rescue workers to respond to the threat while saving the most lives. However, embedded in the software is how the gas spreads, but missing is clear instruction on who to rescue. When a toxic chemical outbreak occurs, the treatment of it raises questions regarding the value of human life. Bogost explains that this is a matter of inclusion and exclusion, combining rules with subjective ideals [Bogost 2006].

In addition to identifying content, models also expose relationships and procedures. These give the model a predictive power. By understanding the procedural laws of the model, one can predict what might occur to real phenomena based on the rules of the model. This principle is the foundation of the scientific method, but the method can be used beyond prediction of events in the real world.

Models so far have been used as general and loosely imagined structures. But when the matter of computation is introduced, they must be made concrete. Computational models are formal systems, or physical symbol systems, the same things at the heart of Newell’s approach to AI and cognitive science.

A formal model is a symbolic construction, borrowing the notion of symbol both from traditional AI, as well as from the semiotic tradition. Signs in semiotics are inherently arbitrary and meaningless, only taking on meaning when coupled with a reference. Similarly, a model on its own has no meaning. A model only gains meaning when its symbols signify some external idea known to somebody. To be useful and understood, models must be creatively interpreted. In order for the model to signify a system that is meaningful, it must represent material outside of the system itself. A model encodes relationships and functions, but representations are needed to tie the model to human systems of meaning. A model without representation is nothing at all. The model must have representation in order to exist. The two exist in opposition to each other, but are necessary to sustain each other. One might argue that a model defined logically has no representation, but formally it must use icons defined in some meta language. Even abstract logical formulations must be written in an alphabet.

The dimension of representation ties so deeply into human embodiment that it is impossible to escape. When someone wishes to develop an AI system which can understand itself, the developer is faced with the issue of infinite regress. An example is the Cyc project’s attempt to understand phenomenological concepts [Adam 1998]. A wholly internal system of knowledge is thus useless. This is not to say that propositions, rules, or symbols are useless, but rather they must represent something to somebody.

Similarly, an argument may be made that no representation can ever mean anything without engaging with other representations. A pure representation on its own can do nothing without engaging with other meanings. A human might be able to supply an interpretation of some isolated observation, but in order for the artifact to convey anything, it must have some meaningful composition of representations, that is an arrangement which conveys relationships. In order for something to be an artifact with communicative potential, it must have a model.

The field of games is surprisingly rich from the perspective of the relationship between models and representations. Game scholar Jesper Juul argues that games are a combination of real rules and fictional representations [Juul 2005]. Digital artifacts have the power of simulation, they can take a procedurally encoded model and simulate it in time. Michael Mateas argues that digital artifacts can be used for the purposes of artistic intention by presenting a procedural system [Mateas 2003]. According to Mateas, an artistic work that uses AI (Expressive AI), is composed of a computational machine and a rhetorical machine. The two of these share vocabulary and a model.

Mateas also argues that there are two parts to the computational machine. There is one system which defines the rules and makeup of the work, which is what I call the model, but there is a second system which contains the running system, which I call the simulation. The model and the simulation are separate. The model is authored by the creator of the artifact, and once the simulation is started, the model may not be adjusted. Instead, the simulation is dynamic and interactive, receptive to engagement with a user. Both contain representative material. The model has the greatest expressive affordances for the author, and the simulation has expressive affordances for the user.

Developing a model for an artifact, whether a new one or an adaptation is a rich and deep activity, even if much of it is done automatically. There is a dilemma of inclusion and exclusion, of imposing values and ethical decisions, and no model will ever exhibit absolute truth. These are not restrictions, but are the very power of models, and simulation, as a system for realizing and formalizing models is a the medium with the greatest potential for expression using them. Models are ambiguous and flexible, interdependent on representation, and intrinsically playful. These are all factors in the construction of models, but they may also be seen as the mechanism for their judgement and analysis.

Traditions of AI

The domain of artificial intelligence can be used to build a computational simulation of fictional characters, but traditional AI lacks the perspective to represent models of story worlds. The central difficulty has to do with the fact that traditional AI is preoccupied with the mind, and can understand things outside of the mind only with difficulty. Things outside of the mind, such as the entire story world, are highly important for fictional adaptation. Even when the world is understood as a model, there are ambiguities that must be explored and addressed. Traditional AI tends to have a totalizing perspective, omitting much that should require attention.

The flaws of traditional AI all stem from the central issue of perspective. The flaws reside in AI’s handling of embodiment, cognitive extension, situation, rationality, cultural values, performance, and emotion. This section attempts to run through the flaws, illustrate what is lacking and why a change is necessary, and touch on any literature that discusses the conflict. Traditional AI limits its understanding of intelligence and cognition. These flaws obstruct the larger goal of adaptation, and the solutions aim to broaden AI’s perspective and epistemology. It is my goal in this section to build a new approach to AI, one step at a time, that can be used to better tackle the problem of simulating fictional worlds.

Traditional AI is flawed, but it can be refined. It is not my intention to throw out physical symbol system entirely, but rather change focus. Because the adaptation process makes use of formal models, a symbolic understanding of character is important. That understanding must not be fixated on the individual psychology of the character, rather, the scope of representation must surround the cultural and social system of which the character is a part. Instead of fixating on goals and planning, the modified approach to AI should focus on goals and activity.

1  embodiment

AI represents cognition without a body. The fact that AI lacks embodiment is no surprise. The only domain of AI that can arguably make use of embodiment is robotics. However, the lack of embodiment in traditional AI is indicative of a stronger ideology: that mind and body can be effectively and unproblematically separated. Traditional AI thus has a bias toward abstract thought that is independent of physical being. Through the origins of AI in symbolic systems, which are themselves mathematical constructs, traditional AI lacks the perspective imposed by embodiment. Free from the constraints of physical grounding, symbol systems can reason in the abstract. Intelligence without embodiment conveys a view from nowhere [Adam 1998].

The separation between mind and body should not be seen as unproblematic. Abstract reasoning without perspective is especially dangerous. There is a difference between information and knowledge, and the central difference is that knowledge requires a knower, who has a position, and who has a viewpoint. When photography emerged, it was seen as something that could represent the world with absolute accuracy, and would lack the personal expression of painting. Instead, early photographers soon discovered that their new medium had the artistic affordances in spite of photography’s ostensible accuracy. Having a viewpoint alone is meaningful. Representing the world without a viewpoint is at best meaningless, and at worst misleading.

Many AI projects have embraced this lack of perspective, most notably the Cyc project. The ideology behind this has its roots in Cartesian thinking. Descartes believed that the mind is wholly separable from the body, and even the physical world. To him, the mind is equivalent to the soul, and existing eternally in spite of the finite nature of the world and human existence. The Cyc project aims to create an encyclopedia of commonsense knowledge, all framed using symbolic propositions. The Cyc project seeks to encode human knowledge, but without the perspective of a knower [Adam 1998].

Embodiment is an unusual argument to bring into a discussion of procedural adaptation of fiction, but it has two important consequences. One, the fictional model is a view from somewhere, that of the author. The simulated world must acknowledge that it has a particular viewpoint. It is not meant to be a disembodied picture that describes reality, but it describes someone’s perspective on reality, or at least, someone’s constructed world. Fictional models therefore have a perspective complete with bias and emphasis on some elements of the world above others.

Perspective complicates representation of the model of a fictional world. Without embodiment, symbolic formulations have no perspective. Models without embodiment present information in abstract and present a model that lacks the capacity for criticism. Because information is represented objectively, it stands without grounding, and communicates itself as absolute. Representations of fictional worlds are biased, and should be understood as such. An astute reader does not believe every word written on a page is gospel truth, but rather understands the meanings accounting for the perspectives of the author and the characters. Underneath this issue are the matters of literacy. Literacy is the ability for a reader to interpret a work in context, although this is by no means a straightforward skill. A work is literate when it situates itself within the context of other meanings. For a fictional adaptation to be embodied, it must be literate.

Secondly, the characters themselves, who are to be simulated, are embodied within the fictional world. They are fictional, but in a good story, they must have some physical presence. I do not mean this in the sense of simulating physical bodies. It would be a mistake to interpret embodiment as merely physical simulation. Moreover, physical movement and articulation are not generally important in fiction. However, the characters will have their own perspectives on the world, they will not necessarily have the complete picture, but they will be bound to the reality that they live in.

Characters’ interactions with each other are embodied, and many meaningful interactions in fictional worlds have bodily manifestations. A good example is a character’s gaze. Such a thing is very significant in fiction and in human interaction, and can be understood symbolically, but it is expressed bodily. It is argued that all symbolic meaning can be traced back to embodiment [Lakoff 1980, 1999]. To accommodate embodiment of characters, we do not need to reject symbolic representations, but understand that those symbolic representations are anchored within the body. It also suggests that embodied action should be a starting point for understanding symbolic representations, and not the other way around.

2  individual vs extension

Beyond the body, a flaw of AI is to examine the individual in isolation, as a single atomic agent, without connection to the surrounding world in which the individual must reside. The application of fictional adaptation requires adaptation of much more than individual agents acting independently. What is missing is the social and cultural context of the agents, and our approach to AI must consider agents within this broader picture.

The idea of looking beyond the individual or the mind falls within the broader scope of cognitive extension, which claims that cognition is not limited to the self, but extends outward. Cognitive extension pushes the understanding of cognition out of the mind and into the body, into tools, instruments, and artifacts, and into the social and cultural landscape. If AI is a computational approach to cognition, it must account for the extendability of cognition.

Cognitive extension blurs so many boundaries that it makes cognitive science a muddled mess. Its position on tools and artifacts is sound, supported by many philosophical positions [Freud 2005, Heidegger 1977, Norman 2002]. Tools are considered extensions or prosthetics of mankind, but this extension is not unproblematic. The use of the tool shapes the human using it as much as it acts as a prosthetic. One way of looking at this is that the tool comes with its own model of the world, and through using it, the human comes to adopt or incorporate that model. In this light, instrumentality is a continuation of embodiment, but may be understood in a symbolic manner.

We can imagine fictional adaptation as incorporating this element. Objects used by characters, props, must have symbolic models that integrate with the model of the story world. In using objects, characters’ ability to interpret and interact with the world is changed. This begins to shift the emphasis in our use of AI from abstract cognition to activity.

The logic behind cognitive extension it is that because cognition makes use of the affordances of the body and of tools, so too must it make use of cultural and social practice. Agents act in concert with each other, and within a framework of meaning defined by the cultural setting of which they are a part. Where cognitive science has been closely tied to psychology, cognitive extension connects psychology to sociology and anthropology. Integrating the two reveals that mind and culture are interdependent [Shore 1998]. What this will mean for AI will be discussed in subsequent sections.

3  situation

Planning is a predominant theme in AI. This makes sense, because AI was developed to solve problems. The kind of problems and problem solving were very particular. To develop the General Problem Solver, Newell and Simon studied how a very specific demographic approached very specific problems, within a very specific situation. The demographic was, exclusively white male engineers and scientists, Carnegie Mellon students and graduate students, specifically [Adam 1998]. The problems were generally scientific or mathematical in nature [Newell 1963], and the situation was that of a laboratory or academic environment. While this form of research was in line with absolute knowledge without perspective, here it is worth critiquing because of its neglect of situation.

When the AI methods that derived from the GPS research have been exposed to other situations, they have frequently come off as peculiar or stilted. These are so called “expert systems,” which usually are best used as tools by field experts who can apply their own knowledge to the system’s results. Problem solvers cannot be used independently without some sort of interpreter to operate the program. The reason for that can be understood by acknowledging context under which AI emerged as a product. Problem solving is only one part of human cognition, and that we do much more than planning in our daily lives. Problem solving is also extremely dependent on problem formulation. When a problem is ill posed or not fully understood, it cannot be solved. The way we solve problems depends on how we view the problems in the first place.

It is perhaps a philosophical challenge, to the rhetoric of problem solving, but it seems that in order for a problem to exist, it must exist within a situation. The problem must have some sort of context, and be for somebody who has an investment in the solution of the problem. A mathematical formula is not a problem until it is important that it be solved. The space in which problems are posed and meaningful is a situation. This concept is important to fictional adaptation because simulated characters may have goals and plans, but those do not mean anything until they are contextualized within the space that the character inhabits.

Situation is one way in which traditional AI does not account for the broader picture. Situation directly informs and affects cognition. Instead of using the same logic and formal rules anywhere and everywhere, situated cognition says that we think differently under different circumstances. Meaning itself is dependent on those very circumstances. For fictional adaptation, characters must be faced with a variety of situations. Situations might range from simple events such as a conversation, to broader ones such as breakfast or a social visit, to even broader grand ones, such as courtship which could be the context of the entire narrative.

Situation does not mean that symbolic AI must be rejected. Instead, situation must be accounted for. Because meaning and activity are dependent on situation, situation again ties into the system of models. A situation describes a model for activity. The model of the fictional world must describe the potential situations that may arise, and inform the possible activities that can be conducted by agents under those circumstances. This framing is symbolic, but again changes the focus of AI from planned atomic actions to situated activities.

Situation informs the identity of characters. When a character has a role within a narrative, that role serves as a context which situates the character’s actions. Identity thus is a composite of situations that apply to the character [Clancey 2006]. This approach also complicates the rhetoric of planning. Planning agents tend to have hierarchical plans stored in memory. With this viewpoint, plans would be integrated with the agent’s situation.

Planning is important to simulated characters, they necessarily form plans within their worlds and attempt to see them out, but plans in fiction are inevitably thrown askew. The problem solving method proposed by planning uses tree based search, which means that when a subplan fails, an AI will usually go up and try the next thing. In fictional worlds, this sort of reaction is not often the case or even possible. Instead, an agent’s goals or intentions define a situation that the agent experiences. Instead of planning according to all potential actions, situated activity directs the agent from the bottom up, according to the agent’s context.

Turning over planning in favor of situated activity exposes something else very important for fictional characters: demeanor and conduct. Frequently what is important about character interactions is not what the characters do explicitly, but how they do it. These factors are tightly related to the situations wherein the characters are occupied.

4  rationality

Traditional AI has a preoccupation with rationality. Rationality is certainly worthwhile and important in the domain of problem solving and critical thought, but it is a small part of the picture when compared to representation and fictional characters.

For an agent to be rational, according to Newell [Newell 1976], means that the agent acts in a way that it believes will help achieve its goals. If we understand this as the basis for rationality, it offers a more complex perspective than might be initially imagined. This perspective of rationality carries with it an inherent acknowledgment of bias, belief, and goals. An observer may consider an agent’s goal of self destruction undesirable, but the agent’s plan to jump off a cliff is perfectly rational given its goals.

Rationality is still an ambiguous issue even with this in mind. For the purposes of fictional adaptation, fiction is rife with characters who behave decidedly irrationally, acting at times in spite of their goals. This suggests that rationality and goals alone are not sufficient to account for the complexities of fictional characters.

Rationality relates to planing and clear understanding of goals. Story characters often have goals, but frequently act in spite of those goals. Thinking in terms of rationality makes discussion of character revolve around goals and desires. A rational character must be defined in terms of goals. Literary characters may have goals, but they are not defined in terms of them. Furthermore, a character’s goals may often be conflicting, and these conflicts reflect issues of the values in the story world.

Frequently in agent based programming, where agents have conflicting goals or objectives, an evaluation function is used to evaluate what the optimal objective is. Even in situations where none of the options may be desirable, they can be framed in terms of better or worse. The process of this evaluation is at the heart of rationality, and derives from the origin of the word itself. “Ratio” means measurement, thus a rational action is one which measures all of its alternatives. This is an approach which hardly seems desirable, but it must be addressed somehow. An agent must act eventually. However, to apply an evaluation function conceals the significance of that choice. In addition to a weighted comparison, the agent must also express the dilemma of choice, and that must be reflected in character. The arithmetic simplicity of evaluation functions must not conceal the importance of how the agent has made its decision. Fictional characters are necessarily irrational. This does not mean that they act flagrantly against their interests (although sometimes they may), but it means that their faculty for measurement is biased, incomplete, or spurious. This complexity is essential to the representation of character.

5  cultural/social symbols/values

The work of symbolic systems depends on a careful relationship between model and representation. Both the model and the representation of fictional simulation must tie into the system of meaning given by the fictional work. This system of meaning is cultural: it is derived from the cultural world of the author, and of the culture of the world within the work itself. Traditional AI looks at only individual cognition, so it is our agenda here to find a way to open it up to cultural meaning.

The agenda of looking at cultural meaning is to continue pushing the subject material of AI outside of the mind. Not only must AI extend to the body and the extensions of the body, it must extend into the meaning systems that are socially and culturally instituted. In the trend of cognitive extension, we must look to culture because cultural practice may be considered an extension of man. Tools are prosthetics which extend our interaction and interpretation of the world, but cultural practices serve this function as well.

As an example, consider the discipline of statics as studied in engineering. This discipline is about the study of structures in static equilibrium. It is a cultural practice because it is used by a specific population (engineers) in the context of other applications, such as the construction or analysis of structures. Statics views the world as decomposed into bodies, which exert forces and moments upon each other. This is a viewpoint, a lens, by which the world can be interpreted and be understood meaningfully with respect to the system of Statics.

Another example is a dance at a ball in the context of Pride and Prejudice, our fictional adaptation target. An observer in this situation interprets the actions performed by the participants in a very careful light. Meaning is made through the use of subtle cues and simple actions, such as gaze, a man asking a girl to dance, and the girl’s subsequent acceptance or refusal. This is a cultural system with a very precise set of meanings, and the situation can be used to interpret events in accordance with that system of meaning.

The matter of cultural meaning is thus an issue about representation. There is a relationship between the physical world and the model, which must be acknowledged by an the AI in the adaptation. All parts of the model ultimately tie into a cultural system of meaning. Since the focus of AI on individual agents is flawed, we see here that a stronger accommodation of the fictional world’s cultural system must be examined.

6  performance

Performance has two meanings in the scope of computation. The first is in the sense of efficiency. In this meaning, a system performs well when it is efficient and completes a task in optimal time, or does the task especially well if there is some criteria for judgment. The other sense of performance comes from the idea of performativity. In the project of fictional adaptation, the criteria of performance seems straightforward: The system performs well if it conveys a believable and compelling adaptation of the target narrative.

While they are quite different in application, both these understandings of performance share a common thread. Performance indicates that there is an audience. The system is doing something for somebody, and can do so well or poorly. Even in the case of efficiency, performance is at stake because time or efficiency is valuable to somebody. In the case of fictional adaptation, performance occurs at two levels. First, the system must perform for the user and believable. Secondly, the characters must perform roles in their interaction with each other.

Performance focuses on interaction between the AI system and the user. This idea has been espoused in reference to computation in general [Laurel 1993]. Performance tends to be very common in games and interactive drama projects. Joe Bates and others [Bates 1994, Mateas 2002] have argued that AI for artificial characters should focus on believability rather than realism. The idea of realism, much like rationality, has been an issue with traditional AI. Under the dogma of pure symbolic reasoning, realism can be seen as an issue of depth, rather than context. This chain of reasoning would justify things such as the Cyc project. Believability rejects the necessity of realism. Instead, it emphasizes the communicativity of representation, rather than the sophistication of the model.

An important subject that is affected by performance is interaction. Not just interaction between the user and the system, but between characters within the system itself. The traditional AI approach to interaction claims that the thoughts and minds of agents must be modeled explicitly, and communication and interaction should work at a low level of intentions and goals [Cohen 1990]. This literature describes the minds of agents as being enormous sets of logical propositions, representing things that, for the agent, are true. This literature is referred to as “Beliefs, Desires, and Intentions,” and it contains descriptions of how to model an agent’s understanding of knowledge. In the full spirit of “realism,” BDI literature describes how to represent immensely complex logical propositions for relatively simple interactions between agents.

Let us begin with an example. With the Wednesday advertising supplement in hand, a supermarket patron approaches the butcher and asks “where are the chuck steaks you advertised for 88 cents per pound?” to which the butcher replies, “How many do you want?”

This delightful snippet is analyzed in terms of logically formulating a complex network of propositional relationships that describe the beliefs, goals, and intentions of the butcher in this example. This formulation is problematic. On one hand, it is necessary to represent, to some degree, the knowledge and intentions of agents. It is perfectly compatible with the epistemology of traditional AI. However, this symbolic formulation is arguably not realistic. Furthermore, this formulation of intentions breaks down when considered developmentally [Vygotsky 1978, Tomassello 2001].

Sociologist Erving Goffman has proposed a model of interaction based on performance [Goffman 1999]. The key to this is the idea of interaction, and the idea that agents interact with each other in addition to the user. Characters make use of roles, and perform those roles. Goffman’s approach is influenced by the school of symbolic interaction, which claims that interaction is ultimately symbolic in nature. Unlike BDI, symbolic interaction focuses on believability. Instead of a character being a set of abstracted goals and intentions, the character has roles which abstract out the types of interactions that the character may engage in. Much like interaction with artifacts, roles are models of interaction.

In the example with the patron and butcher, the symbolic interaction approach would reject the complex interplay of beliefs and intentions. These would be replaced with a pair of roles, and perhaps a social script which the agents would enact. The interaction between the two is symbolic in nature because it is meaningful within the context of the shopping activity. For fictional adaptation, this type of model is vastly superior to the mess presented by BDI.

7 Emotion

The relation between thought and emotion tends to be very contested in the study of cognition. Rationalism excludes emotion particularly. AI has a difficult time accommodating emotion, especially in regards to the relationship between emotion and behavior. Emotion is disconnected from the rhetoric of planning.

Emotion is very important in the lives and behavior of humans, and is furthermore enormously important in fiction. Studies have shown that emotion has an effect on decision making [Oatley 1996]. Such a study might sound like the rational mind is being interfered with by emotions, but the argument is the opposite: that emotions are the basis for decision making and even rationality. This argument hearkens back to Aristotle, who claimed that emotional appeal was an integral element to rhetoric.

Humans are sensitive to emotions and can easily percieve the emotions of others. This cycle of emotional response occurs in reading fiction, and is used to develop an understanding of the fictional world. In reading, the mind conducts a mental simulation of the characters’ emotions, and this helps develop a kind of emotional intelligence [Oatley 2008]. Within fiction, characters are subject to many emotional forces, which must clearly be accounted for in order to perform fictional adaptation.

AI oriented around planning does not have the tools to represent or model emotion. Emotion needs to be represented in the model and behavior of agents. Agents need to experience emotions and those emotions must have effects on their behavior. To model this, we must provide an explanation for how emotions arise in agents, how they are expressed, and what their varieties are. A useful discussion of emotion comes from Ortony, Clore, and Collins who view emotion as valenced reactions [Ortony et al. 1990]. Emotions are experienced in reaction to events, others, and objects, and depending on how the world is perceived, this can affect the emotional response of the agents. This model does not discuss expression of emotions in great detail, but provides a compelling model that differentiates between emotion and mental state.

To accommodate emotions within AI would require that agents experience reactions to things in the world, which would in turn affect the conduct of the agent. Emotion and rationality are connected, and rationality is principally the characteristic of carefully measuring the value of actions and outcomes. With this in mind, the effects of emotions can be represented as skewing the weights of the decision making process. An action that would be poorly valued by a cheerful agent might seem much more desirable, even “rational,” to an angry one. Emotion is represented not only in decisions, but also the manner in which agents conduct ordinary activities.

Changing Perspective

The points in the above section describe what I consider to be the flaws of traditional AI, but taken together, they can be seen as a reorientation of the project. In critiquing the approaches to traditional AI, several trends have emerged. It is not necessary to reject the symbolic nature of AI, but we have seen that changes must be made to the target of study for AI to successfully address the problem of fictional adaptation. The resulting changes are that:

  1. The model of the story world is the unit of analysis.
  2. The story world is a cultural system with contextual meanings and values. It is impossible to assign values from outside of the system.
  3. Situation and activity are the basis for all behavior that occurs within the system. Plans are at most secondary to situated behavior.

I suggest that we shift the focus of study. The problem is the adaptation of fictional worlds. By virtue of looking at worlds, the focus should be on the environment and the relationships between characters. Instead of thinking of the intelligence and goals of individuals, we must think about the logic of the world itself. The world is culturally oriented and contains an index of situations, roles, activities, and actions that characters may engage with. At any given point, a character will be in the middle of some situation or another, taking on a particular role with which to take part in the situation. This role will constrain their ranges of actions. Actions have symbolic values with respect to the story world, and affet its state. Characters may operate according to plans, but foremost, they will operate according to their identities, and express what makes them who they are.

To continue with this, it is necessary to understand the values of the world, and the mechanics. The values describe generally what is important in the world, and what numbers of values the characters might like to keep track of. The mechanics describe what possible things can happen in the world at all. The mechanics of a given situation are dependent on what values of parameters characters might have in that situation, and these parameters are affected by the execution of the mechanics.

Worlds have values in several respects. There are values in the moral sense of what concepts, events, relationships, and qualities are legitimate or meaningful in the space between the characters. There are also values in the sense of what parameters that might be attributed to characters, as specific statistical values. In discussing this latter type, there are two ways of doing such: one is defining what the important parameters are, what they are called and how they are articulated, and two is determining what quantities the actual characters have, or how these quantities are changed with respect to the characters actions or activities.

It is my intent not to provide a final answer to the inquiry of determining the values of a story world. As is the case with any interpretation of a fictional world, the determination of these is not only very subjective, but also very open ended. A fictional story world might operate around one principle, but on further study, the story is revealed to be about deeper meanings. There is a relationship between these strata of meanings that is especially important to consider on the subject of adaptation. I want to suggest an approach toward looking at meanings, thinking of them mechanically, and then using that as a starting point for the adaptation process.

In the space of political games, the goal is frequently to untangle a set of relationships in some everyday system, and uncover what values lie underneath.

The mechanics of a world are the scope of what can happen. In the context of fiction, this is necessarily limited by many factors, but centrally the range of actions a character might perform are dependent on their appropriateness, and the nature of the character itself. Narratives operate according to causal rules, thus one aspect of character may provoke one meaningful act, which may cause another. Characters operate according to some form of social codes, which dictate what their range of choices are in any given situation. Occasionally, there may not be many options, and instead what is of importance is not the action itself, but the conduct, the means of expressing the action. These differences are subtle but significant.

I think that in many fictional worlds, where the action is oriented around character and not centrally around action, that the worlds are primarily socially oriented. Social mechanics take the form of rituals. Rituals work in a manner which amounts to a kind of performance of everyday life. Rituals should be understood in terms of duration. There may be short rituals, for events that are short and pass quickly, such as a conversation, a game of cards, a dance. There are moderate length rituals, that might take the course of a several hours in the narrative world, or several pages in the text, such as a social visit, a date, a work day. And there are extended rituals, which may last a long time, even over the course of an entire story, such as courtship or coming to maturity. There is a heirarchical nature to these rituals, and with increasing spans of time, there are also increasing degrees of freedom and flexibility. Short rituals are tight and restrictive, but larger rituals have more room for transgression.

Characters entering into rituals must adopt some kind of role for their position within the ritual. A social visit would have roles for the host and the guest, a conversation will have fluctuating roles of speaker and listener. Roles come with implicit expressions of power dynamics, creating a currency of interaction. How the character abides by its role is significant and will affect the values and parameters associated with that character.

This approach of role, character, value, and mechanics is very different from the models of goals and planning established by traditional AI. However, the given approach is not inconsistent with the symbolic perspective of AI. Instead, these recast the symbols, anchoring them within perspectives and into the activity of the agents. A number of contemporary cognitive scientists have aimed to shift the focus and object of study of cognition. A prevalent trend is to shift the focus from representing thought to activity [Lave 1988, Nardi 1995, Cole and Derry 2005, Hutchins 1995]. Activity is important for studying cognition, and it is also important for representing the content of a modeled world. It represents the scope of what characters can do. Activity is the mechanics of the fictional world. If we understand what characters can do, and what effects those actions have, then it is arguable that we understand the cultural world in which those characters reside.

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Metaprogramming

[Experiments,General,Toys] (01.21.09, 10:22 pm)

I am really interested in metaprogramming, writing programs which can modify themselves dynamically. More notably, users of metaprograms will be able to change their functional operation. The advantage of being able to do this is that it enables a great deal of power for development and creating things, but primarily, it’s just a lot of fun. There is something about being able to call functions using reflection that just is really pleasing and entertaining to me.

Most commonly scripting frameworks are used to create secure environments for scripts, and often these scripts will be developed ahead of time, but they also enable a possibility of dynamic scripting, where a scripting environment may be able to do interesting things during run time. Possible examples of run time uses are controlling agents within a world by issuing commands and writing code for an agent’s “brain”, then loading to that into the agent which is live in the world. It would be possible to create a dynamic music or image making program, where the artist can control what is being played or drawn using the scripted code.

With the recent release of Java 1.6, we now have standardized implementation of JSR 223, also known as the scripting framework, which enables some exciting metaprogramming possibilities. This allows one to script on top of Java. So, it would be possible to interact with Python, Ruby, Javascript, or any  other sort of scripting language through this one framework. Interestingly, it is also possible to use Java as a scripting language. Thus, you can script for a Java program… in Java. This may seem ridiculous to some, but I think this is simply delightful.

Here is an example of the scripting framework in use. Note, to actually run this, you must add the java-engine.jar, found in jsr223-engines.zip to the classpath.

package scripttest;

import java.lang.reflect.Constructor;
import java.lang.reflect.Method;
import java.util.Map.Entry;
import java.util.logging.Level;
import java.util.logging.Logger;
import javax.script.Bindings;
import javax.script.ScriptContext;
import javax.script.ScriptEngine;
import javax.script.ScriptEngineManager;

/**
 *
 * @author Calvin Ashmore
 */
public class Main {

    /**
     * @param args the command line arguments
     */
    public static void main(String[] args) {

        ScriptEngineManager mgr = new ScriptEngineManager();

        ScriptEngine scriptEngine = mgr.getEngineByName("java");
        System.out.println(scriptEngine);
        Bindings bindings = scriptEngine.getBindings(ScriptContext.ENGINE_SCOPE);
        for (Entry<String, Object> entry : bindings.entrySet()) {
            System.out.println("  " + entry);
        }
        System.out.println(scriptEngine.getContext());

        try {
            scriptEngine.put(ScriptEngine.FILENAME, "Toasty.java");
            String script = "public class Toasty {" +
                    "  private float myStuff;" +
                    "  public Toasty(float stuff) {" +
                    "    myStuff = stuff;" +
                    "  }" +
                    "  public String toString() {" +
                    "    return \"I have a thingy! \"+myStuff;" +
                    "  }" +
                    "  public int performWombat(String theWombat, float multiplier) {" +
                    "    int toast = Integer.valueOf(theWombat);" +
                    "    float thingy = toast * multiplier;" +
                    "    double d = Math.sqrt(1 + thingy*thingy);" +
                    "    return (int) d;" +
                    "  }" +
                    "}";

            Class toastyClass = (Class) scriptEngine.eval(script);
            Constructor c = toastyClass.getConstructor(float.class);
            Method m = toastyClass.getMethod("performWombat", String.class, float.class);

            Object toasty = c.newInstance(1.0f);
            System.out.println("My toasty: " + toasty);

            System.out.println("This will work:");
            System.out.println("result: " + m.invoke(toasty, "234", 1.23f));

            System.out.println("This will not:");
            System.out.println("result: " + m.invoke(toasty, "eek", 1.23f));

        } catch (Exception ex) {
            Logger.getLogger(Main.class.getName()).log(Level.SEVERE, null, ex);
        }
    }
}

(Apologies for the strange variable names) It generates the output:

com.sun.script.java.JavaScriptEngine@1abc7b9
javax.script.SimpleScriptContext@c55e36
My toasty: I have a thingy! 1.0
This will work:
result: 287
This will not:
Jan 21, 2009 9:27:15 PM scripttest.Main main
SEVERE: null
java.lang.reflect.InvocationTargetException
        at sun.reflect.NativeMethodAccessorImpl.invoke0(Native Method)
        at sun.reflect.NativeMethodAccessorImpl.invoke(NativeMethodAccessorImpl.java:39)
        at sun.reflect.DelegatingMethodAccessorImpl.invoke(DelegatingMethodAccessorImpl.java:25)
        at java.lang.reflect.Method.invoke(Method.java:597)
        at scripttest.Main.main(Main.java:70)
Caused by: java.lang.NumberFormatException: For input string: "eek"
        at java.lang.NumberFormatException.forInputString(NumberFormatException.java:48)
        at java.lang.Integer.parseInt(Integer.java:447)
        at java.lang.Integer.valueOf(Integer.java:553)
        at Toasty.performWombat(Unknown Source)
        ... 5 more

This example is able to instantiate and call methods on a simple object effectively. However, in order to do the more interesting things described above, we need to make use of interfaces. So, the scripted class will implement an interface defined by the main program. That interface will define the contract for operation. So, instead of using reflection to call methods, we can simply cast the object to belong to the interface and call the methods directly. I’m not going to write this yet, but maybe soon.

A Kindred Academic

[General] (01.21.09, 3:04 pm)

Evidently, I’m not the only one who is interested in models and worlds and values. I was referred to Matthew Kirschenbaum‘s essay “Hello Worlds“. This was interesting because he not only references the work of Ian Bogost and Michael Mateas, but he frames the discussion as an application of digital humanities, to think about worlds and as the material content of both literature and games. He also mentions, however briefly, Jane Austen. Austen is inescapable, an inevitable fact underneath everything, a humming constant beneath the universe. All roads lead to Jane Austen. I don’t know whether to be pleased or frightened.

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