The present research originally had a second subtitle: Ludoliteracy and Analytical Frameworks for a Toolkit in Modern Game Pieces Composition. Its removal primarily arose from the absence of a concrete proposal for a personal Analytical Framework within a compositional context, from a composer's perspective. Following this, the frameworks would have been linked to the development of a toolkit—a comprehensive guide for composers on the integration of game concepts into their compositions, essentially proposing a form of "music-ludo-literacy."
One of the most important aspect for a complete definition of the practical toolkit is the formulation of a clear and straightforward analytical framework, essential for mapping game pieces, their history, and their evolutions. Marko Ciciliani's polar diagram is very complex and begins with the premise of analyzing not only explicitly stated game pieces but even audio-visual game pieces. Perhaps the addition of the transparency parameter through the shapes’ opacity variation would be sufficient to broaden the validity of the polar diagram to, potentially, all types of musical pieces. However, such a system does not appear to be practical or immediately understandable, as it requires familiarity with specific ludological concepts. Consequently, this framework could be more suitable for a secondary phase, focusing on a deeper, technical examination of each game components. Nonetheless, I feel the urgency, the need for a tool designed to distinguish a game piece from an "absolute" musical piece, lacking features that would classify it as such.
This challenge has proven to be very complicated, not easily resolved. The most suitable approach is that of Espen J. Aarseth, who examines literature in order to derive specific characteristics of ergodic works, evaluating a broad array of artworks, which differ not only in terms of genre or specific attributes but also, significantly, in terms of media. His perspective is certainly one that could reveal the greatest analytical potential, for its simplicity and conciseness.
In any case, some key points have been established, marking fundamental steps towards shaping a compositional vision that extends beyond the practice of game pieces. I have come to understand that game pieces captivate me primarily, though not solely, for their ability to challenge the traditional formal structure of a musical piece and for the agency they provide to the performer (or the audience), placing them in a position of control dominated not only by musical demands but also by ludic urgencies. The contrasting nature of these forces unleashes an unexpected allure, which, in my opinion, is vastly underrated.
My interest in this genre, therefore, pertains to its formal dimension (rather than just the tools of play, inherently fun nature, or playful attitude alone), and to the significance of their instance, which makes them eligible for the status of "medium." The more I engaged with these particular productions, the more I realized that the presence of game goals, competitive dynamics, strategies, and other similar elements emerged as instances so prevalent and attention-commanding for performers and audiences that they could not be otherwise considered. The more I attempted to find a balance between the power of games and musical elements, the more apparent it became that they were contending with equal levels of perceptual engagement and intensity.
I recognized the need to approach the entire body of work as inherently multimedia. However, I lack the skills and knowledge to further explore this assertion, or, of course, to dissuade from it. This aspect is clearly very critical and scarcely outlined, thus requiring further and thorough investigation. In the future, I hope to find the time, clarity, and opportunity for it.
The research will continue, diving deeper into the matter and exploring new avenues of inquiry. Creating new Game Pieces will be an essential aspect of the upcoming research project. Among the compositions currently imagined for development, there will be various explorations of how different gameplays intersect with different characteristics of music and games.
One of the most intriguing perspectives is the creation of a similar Twister game, where the colored dots are composed either of conductive paint or conductive fabric - essentially, a material that, upon contact with the human body, captures a different electric signal than when in contact with the remaining plastic material. Twister is a game played on a large plastic mat, serving as a game board. The mat features four rows of sizable colored circles, each row in a different color: red, yellow, blue, and green. A spinner is attached to a square board, which, once played, gives directions to the players on their moves. This board is divided into four sections indicating a part of the body (right foot, left foot, right hand, and left hand) and one of the four colours. Following a spin of the spinner, a combination of color and limb is called out, which players must then execute. For instance, if the combination "right hand, yellow" is called, players must place their right hand on a yellow circle. The fun part lies in the tangle of limbs that quickly forms after a few spins, not only among the limbs of a single person but also among the limbs of multiple different people.
In the piece I intend to compose, the colored sections are connected to a specific parameter of a modular within a sort of an abstract modular synthesizer. In this way, people playing will end up being the patches that connect the parameters and create the signal routing, modeling the audio signal directly with the game dynamics - perhaps not even noticing the musical workflow, just enjoying its outcome and the entertainment provided by the game.
Similarly to the chessboard piece for the popularity of the game and its indeterminate combinations, another project is composition inspired by Tetris. Essentially, this would entails a sonification of the game, with a reactive audio system based on the shape and the position of the falling pieces.
Lastly, after participating in a course led by Justin Bennett this year and having worked closely to the genre of soundwalks, I got very much inspired by the opportunity to create a geo-located composition. This type of composition allows the listener to determine their route, thereby influencing how and when the composition unfolds. A geo-located composition uses a specific App that interfaces with the phone's navigation system to track the user's position; based on them, the app shows the available Sound Walks in the area. Once engaged in a sound walk,, the area is depicted on maps as a series of squares and circles through which the user can navigate. Music can only be listened when an area is crossed. Each shape represents a different track, with its nature and behavior initially unknown to listener. However, over time, familiarity with each track develops. This approach enables individuals to explore every sonic element and play with its position in time - not only in space -, which basically summarize one of the primary compositional processes.
This could already qualify as a Game Piece, in my view. This approach, in fact, highlights a distinct intersection between the concept of agency in games, as discussed by T. Chi Nguyen, and an uncommon kind of agency in music composition, controlled by the audience instead of the performers, revealing an unexpectedly close connection.
Nonetheless, the game dynamic could be crafted in an even more playful way.
While thinking about the endless possibilities offered by such a method, it suddenly occurred to me that there are few games set in vast, undisclosed spaces, such as fields or pitches. One such game is the Treasure Hunt, a very simple yet childlike game where players are required to follow a pre-determined path to a hidden treasure. The correct path is initially unknown and it gets revealed only through a series of hints presented in the form of riddles, enigmas, or any creative mystery.
Introducing an extramusical goal to the user's recompositional process unveils another dimension of interaction. Yet, the combination can be intricate: would the sonic element just become a soundtrack, as in a videogame? Would the musical layer be completely overshadowed by the thrill of the hunt?
Once more, the critical relevance lies in striking a balance between these facets.
These pieces still represent experiments, whose musical validity I sometimes find myself questioning. The main focus, however, lies undoubtedly in becoming familiar with the medium of "game" and the possibilities that arise from its intersection with sound. Therefore, the elements involved may not be particularly exciting, but rather, of quite evident simplicity - so that the development is clear, controllable, and experiential for various actors (audience, performer, and composer). This downsizing necessity of the complexity of the elements involved is thus carried out due to an analysis aimed at the greater complexity that arises from the need to observe with even more attention the combination of the two instances in their different and predominant variability.
I sense what a game is. Yet, I can’t prove it. I want to avoid the risk of definying every open work as a game piece. Or every interactive work as a Ludus one. So, what exactly determines when something is considered a game or not?
How do I define a game, and under what circumstances do I apply this definition?
How can I approach understanding an experience that falls within this semantic category?
The sense of lightness, entertainment, enjoyable competition, and challenge that characterize many games are decisive elements for me in determining which games are indeed games and which other activities are simply actions or events that happen without any particular nuances or consequences from a social, cognitive, educational, or performative perspective. I genuinely perceive how a musical piece contains elements that alter its performance in relation to events conceived to occur within it and modify its course. I can personally discern when these elements have a ludic or other nature—be it philosophical, artistic, or related to one of the many other disciplines and activities available to human knowledge. I can feel the difference within myself distinctly, yet I fail to find a solution when I attempt to extract it from within. No previous definition resonates within me as correct or even sufficiently close, except for those opinions of authors like Wittgenstein or Berio, who precisely reject the underlying problem, effectively attempting to dismantle the necessity of a definition itself. Yet, after brief reflections, that sensation, that conviction of the presence, the existence of something beyond the normal course of an activity that designates its belonging to the common perception of "game," resurfaces, strong, determined, and sensorially, I would even dare to say, with a certain clear identity. However, I cannot delineate or designate it with clear parameters.
The game exists when there is a certain type of involvement, which can only be subjective.
Back to Berio definition, it is only music what you hear with the intention to hear music; it is only a game what you play with the intention to play as a game.
Is Squid Game a game? It is not, it is a survival challenge. Is taking off in an airplane like going on a roller coaster? No, it is not. It is the Gendarmerie National marketing a playful spot? Yeah, maybe, but its object of reference strips away any possible playfulness - for me.
For me, games involve competition; that's the driving force that makes them enjoyable for me. In this sense, I fully recognize myself in Nguyen's definition of the "striving player." However, I cannot deny that other types of games, collaborative or similar, exist and are valid for others. Just as I cannot deny or exclude from the definition of a game piece, committing, in my opinion, a methodological error, those musical productions that base their ludic sense on parameters that are "minor" or of lesser importance according to the common conception of the term game. In this way, yes, every open-form piece can be considered a game piece. I recently had the opportunity to perform one of Pauline Oliveros's text scores, the title of which I unfortunately do not remember. It involved an ensemble of performers having two elements playing a fourth, and the others playing any frequency within that fourth. The latter were free to move as they pleased, but they could push the expansion of the interval by reaching unison with one of the two performers playing the fourth. Those were then allowed to "detach" from the fixed interval and move themselves more than a fourth, while the others would have followed them in order to recreate the fourth. My most spontaneous impulse was to "chase" one of the performers playing the fourth, to encourage them to deviate from the predetermined interval, with the intention of amusing them and the audience. As if I were them playfully teasing them or jesting with them. It could certainly be said that I was "applying" game dynamics to a piece that does not explicitly provide for them; however, it is also true that the piece does not exclude them either, and indeed, it allows the performer considerable freedom in decision-making - enough to allow someone to introduce elements of this kind as part of the performer's character. More like an interpretation, actually. Similarly, the performance of a repertoire piece itself can be playful: I can focus the interpretation of the most classic and performed Beethoven piece on parameters that emphasize unexpected elements or highlight contradictions of a playful nature, just as interpretive reflection on a more dramatic section can lead to results opposite to expectations. In fact, many composers tend to forget the vast range of interpretative possibilities, which from a purely mathematical point of view, essentially corresponds to the vastness and holds the same degree of indeterminacy as an open-form piece. Perhaps it should be remembered more often that notes, pitches, and dynamics are just some of the parameters available to musicians, whose number of combinations is just as great as the predetermined structures combined in many open-form pieces. Thus, even traditionally notated and conceived pieces could employ reading modes that place them within the definition of a game piece. Because the definition itself, just like the definition of music, is not something that can be universally delimited without the risk of committing ontological errors.