As I predicted, Bogost’s section on advertising had a decidedly political bent, which isn’t shocking considering that so much of advertising is grounded in politics (particularly the politics of Big Business, as Bogost points out throughout the chapters). His first chapter of the section, “Advertising Logic” is primarily concerned with three types of advertising, which Bogost lists as demonstrative, illustrative, and associative advertising. He continues to flesh-out these types of advertising in the other two chapters that comprise this section. He briefly defines these types of advertising:
1. Demonstrative advertising provides direct information,
2. Illustrative advertising communicates indirect information, and
3. Associative advertising communicates indirect information, focusing specifically on the intangibles of a product. (153-154)
Though these types of advertising can be defined simply, Bogost continues his explanation of the types throughout the section, providing a number of interesting examples (many of which relate directly to the political messages we saw in the previous section, such as the different ways McDonalds is portrayed in games). Bogost seems to privilege demonstrative games, which he describes as “most closely [relating to] the procedural properties of the videogame medium” (158). Bogost focuses on an aspect of gaming that even I (a non-gamer) would recognize: the power-up. In his example of Mountain Dew Skateboarding, he notes that these power-ups closely resemble demonstrative advertising, as long as the product being used as a power-up can actually provide some source of energy/power/boost/etc. in the real world. Mountain Dew, widely known as the most caffeinated of all sodas, obviously can provide the energy needed to perform skateboarding tricks. (Though Bogost doesn’t mention it—at least from what I remember—the game also includes an underlying message: the energy from Mountain Dew is short-lived and the consumer eventually crashes).
One of the aspects most apparent in Bogost’s discussion of advertising in gaming seems to be the same argument he had in his section on the political aspects of gaming. Though he didn’t reuse the terminology, it seems that many games “skin” previously created games—by placing a product in an almost random part of the game. This idea directly ties into the second chapter of the section, entitled “Licensing and Product Placement.” Bogost explains the importance of this chapter: “I want to suggest that videogames offer a mode of engagement with products and services that can activate critical perspectives on consumption. But to do so, advertising must reconnect with the fundamental property of videogames, procedurality” (173). Unfortunately, Bogost doesn’t seem to be especially satisfied or impressed with the ways games are used to advertise at this point (e.g. skinning). Because so many advertisement videogames are basically skinned versions of other games, it becomes difficult for these games to create an embodied experience that is a useful advertising strategy—shooting French fries, for example, no more makes the person want to buy a particular brand of fries than shooting terrorists from a George Bush head makes you want to vote for Bush. Rather than participating simply in product placement (though I agree that it probably does make for a more real life situation in some games), the games that attempt to be “good” advertising tools need to involve the player in using the product—the Splinter Cell: Pandora Tomorrow’s use of the cell phones and PDAs is a good example. This allows the products to be “simulated and integrated into the gameplay” (197).
Bogost ends his section on advertising with a discussion of advergames which “refer to any game created specifically to host a procedural rhetoric about the claims of a product or service . . . [m]ore succinctly put, advergames are simulations of products and services” (200). He devotes much time to the discussion of games that include “direct purchase incentive” (203). To get the game, one must collect proofs-of-purchase and send them in (sometimes including cash). The game will then be sent in the mail. Interestingly enough, it appears as though the non-game advertising has already worked—the consumer has bought enough of a product to buy the game, which, one can only assume, will then attempt to get the consumer to buy more of the product. Though the purchases have already been made, “what is important is the game’s success in creating an open space in which the player might consider the seller’s product claims in a simulated, embodied experience” (206). Despite the fact that Bogost spends a considerable amount of time discussing the problems and arguments against advertising in games, it comes down to the ability of the player to have an embodied experience. Games, whether used for advertising or, as we discovered through reading Gee, pedagogy, videogames can be invaluable tools in creating embodied experiences.
Questions:
1. For me, the first part of the section was extremely difficult to read/understand. What do you think Bogost is talking about in this section when he discusses things like the media being more real than reality?
2. Once you’ve figured out what the first section means, how does this apply to advertising in games?
3. Much of this section seemed to imply that advertising in games is a negative thing. What do you think?
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