Tag Archives: disability

Game a while in another man’s chair

When I was a kid, I was very curious about disabilities. I don’t know why; I didn’t have any friends or family members who were disabled, or at least not in the ways I could recognize. Yet in elementary school I avidly read biographies of Helen Keller, her teacher Annie Sullivan, and Louis Braille. By the time I was nine I had taught myself the sign language and Braille alphabets, and directed a video about Keller, in which I played the lead role (and left my glasses on in several scenes).

I never actually wished to be disabled, but I wanted to know what it was like for the people I’d read about. And reading wasn’t enough. I spent some days at my house blindfolded, navigating by touch and tripping over the cats. I spent a day at school not allowing myself to say a word. And I tried to “deafen” myself with earplugs and other improvised methods, only to be frustrated that I could still hear sounds.

Now I’ve had years of experience in college disability offices, been a sign language interpreter and teacher for deaf students, and know many people in “real life” and/or online with a range of disabilities. (I put that in quotes because who can tell the difference anymore?) And of course, I’m somewhat newly nerfed.

Speaking of the nerf bat, I’m writing a game review for AbleGamers, a website and foundation dedicated to improving accessibility in videogames, which I’ve recently joined as a staff writer. This means a new and challenging way to look at both games and disability. The questions I have to ask of a game force me not just to imagine what it might be like to be color blind, for example, but to really examine the functional implications of that. Is there any game information that is solely presented in colors without any other explanation? What about captions — are they available for both in-game and cutscenes, and what size and font are they, and how long do they stay on the screen? What if you only have the use of one hand? Are there gameplay or difficulty options for people with cognitive impairments?

It’s not just a checklist or a matter of scrutinizing the game’s options. When I’m considering all these questions and others, I play the game imagining, to the extent that I can, that I really need those captions, or can’t distinguish between green and red, or can’t use both mouse and keyboard. It’s like those experiments I used to do as a kid, testing an imagined lack of function against a world that’s mostly built to make use of that function. And something happened after I did my first game session analyzing its friendliness to color blind players: I found myself noticing some billboards or websites with problematic color schemes.

It’s good to look at the world this way from time to time. As more than one wise person has said to me, we’re all disabled in one way or another, or were, or will be, even if only temporarily. Maybe the next time you’re playing a game, turn down the volume all the way and see how it changes your experience. It doesn’t come close to the experience of being a deaf person, of course, any more than my day in a wheelchair at Blizzcon comes close to the experience of using a chair every day of one’s life.

But as I found out when I was young, even a short or small visceral experience can deepen your empathy, or help you consider the world for a moment in a new way. And besides, odds are relatively good that if you read this blog, you’re going to be playing a videogame soon anyway. (Anyone want to take a little survey on that? Leave a note in the comments or contact me.) And you can check on AbleGamers via Twitter or Facebook — one exciting development is an impending segment on CNN. And if I may end this post with a little fundraising, they will send you this limited edition poster by Justin Russo, the guy who did that other awesome videogame art, for a donation of $55 or more. It’s got a message that no gamer could disagree with.

This post contains only my own opinions and does not necessarily reflect those of AbleGamers. Full disclosure: I have been requested to plug this poster. Fuller disclosure: I didn’t actually know this before I wrote the post. Also: Many deaf people do not consider themselves to be disabled. In this post I’m using a very broad definition of “disability,” which does include deafness, for simplicity’s sake. And thanks to Patrick and Desiree for their kind assistance.

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A delicious friend is me!

Although I adore games like Mass Effect and Bioshock, being disabled by chronic illness means I’m not always able to handle, physically or mentally, real-time combat and tasks requiring hand-eye coordination. For those times when my brain wants to play something but my body wants me to curl up and not pick my head up off the pillow, I’ve become a great fan of turn-based games played in a web browser.

One of the best known, and one I’ve written about before, is Kingdom of Loathing (KoL). You are given a base 40 turns a day, which can be increased to hundreds depending on the food, drink, equipment, and other items you use. While there is a daily limit of 200 turns you can store up (in other words, you can’t stop playing for a couple of months and come back to thousands of turns), there is no limit to how much time you can spend playing all the turns you’ve generated. Other games, such as the delightful Paradox! The Musical (not an entirely disinterested plug), Metroplexity, and Game! hew pretty closely to KoL’s model of turn generation.

As much as I enjoy the intricate puzzles and engaging writing of the above titles, they can prove a roadblock to chronically ill gamers who may be especially limited by cognitive dysfunction, or are unable to read a lot or spend too much time on the computer. Echo Bazaar, by Failbetter Games, manages to create a remarkably vivid and intriguing world while keeping gameplay simple, and effectively forcing a casual approach.

Echo Bazaar takes place in Fallen London, which is what became of Victorian London when it was mysteriously carried away, down a mile beneath the surface. Inhabitants are defined by four character traits — Dangerous, Watchful, Persuasive, and Shadowy — and these traits, along with myriad other story-related characteristics (such as Hedonist or Ruthless), contacts (such as Bohemians, Constables, the Church, or Hell), and menaces like Wounds or Nightmares, develop your character as he, she, or it pursues an overarching Ambition. The gameplay is a mixture of card game and RPG, with an ambiance that evokes Lovecraft, steampunk, and other familiar themes while managing to keep Fallen London feeling mysterious and unique, not derivative. While it is text-based like the other games mentioned, the story is meted out in tantalizing tidbits rather than requiring a large investment of time to read.

Players of Echo Bazaar are rewarded for patience, due to its unusual turn-generation model, speaking of tantalizing tidbits; people who are used to the more common methods found in other games can be frustrated here, but it’s one reason I recommend it for chronically ill gamers. You are given 70 actions a day, which cannot be increased. You can “bank” a maximum of 10 actions and as you use them, they refresh at the rate of one every 7 minutes. This does mean that you are losing turns as soon as your candle refills if you aren’t logged in, so the best attitude to take is a very relaxed one. Don’t worry about playing optimally, or not having a chance to play on a given day. You don’t have to compete with anyone (PvP, in the form of the game “Knife and Candle,” is entirely optional) and as yet there is no “end” to the game past 90 to all stats. So it’s perfectly suited for people who want a casual but engrossing experience, who can only log in once or twice a day but will always find their 10 turns awaiting and will proceed slowly, but inevitably.

(One might observe that it is a bit cruel of the folks at Failbetter to invent such a fascinating world in which to get lost…and then to limit one’s time in that world so harshly. If one were to be gauche about it.)

If you’re on Twitter and you don’t play the game, you may consider it either a curiosity or a pain in the ass, depending on how considerate are your friends who play. Echo Bazaar requires you to log in with a Twitter account, but if you want, that can be the limit of your involvement. Players are enticed to tweet at least once a day, since every 24 hours you get the option to refill your actions immediately, giving you 20 to play at once instead of 10. However, this is not required, and you can also edit what you say aside from the link. (Which, as some reviewers have gotten wrong, is not a referral link. I loathe those games.) I usually replace the default text with something tailored for my character, and I also enjoy tweeting out some of the funnier, creepier, and most intriguing bits, so I created a separate account to avoid spamming my main account’s followers.

This brings me to my final point about the game. I’m not much for multiplayer anymore, since even if I do have the energy to game, I may not have the energy to interact with strangers. This is an area where I really enjoy Echo Bazaar‘s design. There are myriad benefits to interacting with fellow players, who are people you follow (mutually or not) on Twitter. However, it all takes place in an appropriately genteel manner, as if through a matchmaker. You send an invitation to something — possibly a “visit” to decrease the menace of your Nightmares — through the game, and the recipient gets an automated DM from the @EchoBazaar account. That person can then accept the invitation, conferring benefits on both of you, or reject it. (Update: Thanks to another player for pointing out that some of the “benefits” received from these interactions aren’t necessarily positive, depending on your goal.) There is no actual chat interface or need to form a group, which cuts down greatly on my own energy costs when playing a game. However, especially if you do create a separate account, you can get involved in conversations with your fellow players, in character or otherwise…and even with the Masters of the Bazaar and other notorious inhabitants of the Neath. The level of personal interaction is completely up to you.

I’m utterly enchanted by Echo Bazaar, and in a way I want more — more actions per day, more hints about…well, everything, and just who is this mysterious Cheesemonger? But the truth is I really enjoy the fact that it can be played with one finger while lying on my side, and that due to the mechanics it’s in my favor not to get obsessed. You’ll find me exploring the dark corners of Fallen London when my body’s put the kibosh on playing anything more taxing. And you can find my character, Ms. Antoinette Divertimenta, on Twitter. I await your visit, delicious friend.

(art © Failbetter Games)

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Guest post: National Disability Mentoring Day

by Christopher Taylor Edwards

Did you know that the third Wednesday in October is National Disability Mentoring Day (DMD)? And has been for ten years? Neither did I! But it is! And who am I? I am a late-deafened adult and friend of the bloggess who normally graces this site.

I live in New York City and so spent my DMD with the Mayor’s Office of People with Disabilities (MOPD). MOPD organized several hundred disabled adults to shadow mid-career professionals at work throughout the five boroughs. Those who were chosen to participate were matched up with mentors within both government and the private sector.

1bloomI think because my personal career background is in publishing, I was asked to participate in DMD at Bloomberg LP. Which was really beyond anything that I expected. It has an excellent reputation both for journalistic and data quality but also for its work culture and its phenomenally impressive offices. Can we stop here for a second and talk about them? Imagine you’d entered the workplace equivalent of a boutique hotel in Miami mixed with a data newsfeed: glass, white marble, translucent pink and orange and purple signs with moving walls of data. The attention to detail was phenomenal. It helped to solidify my thinking that good companies are good throughout their organization — nothing slips by them. Even the food we were served was fantastic.

Anyway, I’m getting ahead to the micro details and forgetting the bigger picture. Sorry about that. Let me backtrack and talk about getting into the program.

I moved to NYC in August to reunite with my partner who moved here the year before. I sort of dicked around in Washington, D.C. for a year while trying to figure out what to do with my life, and then decided that I needed to seek out the services of New York State’s vocational rehabilitation. VR is used by the disabled (I cringe at that word, but there are none better) for help in the workforce. New York State connects VR to education support services for the disabled into a program called VESID (Vocational and Educational Services for Individuals with Disabilities), run through the Department of Education. So at the encouragement of the state, I moved here in August after hooking up with the awesome people at Manhattan VESID. Through my career action plan there, it was recommended that I apply for DMD through MOPD. I assumed this was something done only here in New York, before learning that DMD is a national program.

I interviewed for the program at MOPD’s office near the Brooklyn Bridge and then waited. I was a little worried, actually. The interview went just okay. I think the biggest problem I had was being assigned an American Sign Language interpreter. My ASL isn’t there yet. And while I appreciated the interpreter doing a form of English-based signing, I found it to be a distraction. I am not used to working with interpreters and should have just focused on the speaker. Unfortunately, MOPD doesn’t offer real-time captioning (CART).

2bloomAnd yet despite my nervousness, a month later I was contacted by MOPD and learned that my mentoring day would be at Bloomberg LP in the marketing-creative department. I quickly RSVPed for an orientation session. (I was excited!) And then the following week, feeling under-dressed, I arrived at Bloomberg to meet the other mentees and my mentor. We were welcomed with a light breakfast and a short introduction about the day from their HR department, and then introduced to our mentors and whisked away to our respective departments.

While in marketing, I spoke with people in various jobs within the group — a print designer, a motion graphics person, my mentor who was a photographer and ad designer, and the marketing department lead. I got to talk about my own experience in relation to the jobs that the others were doing. I also got to ask about workflow, as I’ve specifically not been job hunting at large organizations because of my concerns over interoffice communication. Workflow is difficult for large companies to change and adjust to, and a person with different communication needs is too often the odd person out.

In some ways, I wasn’t prepared for how much it was like an interview. I thought it would be more one-on-one, matched with people in similar situations. Perhaps in some ways that’s a drawback. I think what disabled workers need to see is other disabled workers and how they are functioning in a work environment. I know what it’s like to work with hearies. and generally know what the challenges are there. What I don’t know is how other deafies navigate a hearing-focused work environment.

In the end though, it was a great opportunity to present myself to the team at Bloomberg LP and see the inside of a marketing department at a large media company. Whether it will lead to anything longer term — either as a point of contact within the media community or a position at Bloomberg — it’s too early to say. The biggest advantage I’ve seen so far is having made the contact and gotten impressive feedback within the MOPD and Bloomberg LP loop. I’m now on the MOPD list of disabled, mid-career professionals who make a good impression. And MOPD is seemingly a good advocacy organization with great ties to the NYC business community, so for that reason alone I rate the DMD a success.

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