Part of the ingenious quality of LEGO is that it is a system of play, fundamentally based on interconnecting sets of parts and open‐endedness. Nowadays, themed and specialized LEGO playsets far outnumber the more free‐form building oriented sets we might see on store shelves. Everything from the themed LEGO Space and LEGO City to extensions of the imaginary franchise universes of Star Wars, Harry Potter, and The Simpsons suggest a kind of play experience where purely imagination‐driven building becomes secondary to (...) the kinds of storytelling and narrative play that LEGO playsets encourage. The different kinds of play—LEGO playset building compared to LEGO video game playing—can be thought of as ludus (more structured, goal‐oriented play) and paidia (exuberant, spontaneous free play). LEGO in many ways serves as a helpful analogy for how philosophical thinking can lead people toward new connections between their thoughts and ideas. LEGO and philosophy invite them to question the nature of play. (shrink)

The ancient Ephesian thinker Heraclitus, in his aphoristic writings, described the dynamic coming-to-be of things according to a number of obscure metaphors. In this essay, Hyland ponders whether there is a paradigmatic experience according to which a number of these metaphors can best be understood. Gathering together and thoughtfully retranslating a number of Greek terms including polemos (often translated as “war”), eris (“strife”), agon (“contest”), and paidia (“play”), Hyland argues that Heraclitus’s metaphors can be understood as referring to an (...) experience of athletic play. Hyland explores the significance of athletic play, with its stance of responsive openness, as a paradigm for thinking and living. (shrink)

In the emerging academic field of game studies, Roger Caillois’ Les Jeux et les hommes has already received the status of an obligatory reference. It is honoured as one of the few classic texts in game theory, but some also argue that it is not useful for analysing digital games. Caillois’ book is of particular interest for cultural theorists, though, because it presents a theory of games and play while also addressing the meaning of play. After analysing more closely why (...) Caillois’ theory falls short when it is applied to digital games, we suggest a slight modification of its categories. Starting from the four game dimensions outlined by Caillois - competition, chance, simulation and vertigo - and his two modes of playing, paidia and ludus, we build on his theory by distinguishing two additional game characteristics, called repens and repositio. Both deal with the internal, temporal organization of a game. Repens is a specific characteristic of games that appeals to the player’s desire to discover, explore and get to know the surprises a game has in store and to make progress by learning from these surprises. Repositio denotes complementary experiences: having to retry, return, replay and repeat a certain action while getting better at it with every try. The balance, or unbalance, between repens and repositio, as characteristic elements of many digital games, determines to a large extent their attraction. Finally, repens and repositio are not only indicators of fun in the playing of digital games; they also hint at basic elements in learning theories and social theory. The study of the interplay between repens and repositio can help in clarifying the possibilities and limitations of digital games for learning purposes. (shrink)

Archaeology of Play proposes that play's antithesis is not seriousness, but rather one-dimensionality. It argues that the rediscovery of the Platonic-Aristotelian tripartivism lends to a more expansive appreciation of play in terms of three rhetorical registers, namely, skholé, agon, and paidia.

What is a toy? As objects of play, toys seem to be inextricably bound up with mimesis: a child plays ‘make believe’, for example, with a doll or toy cart. But as I will show, Plato has a very different conception of toys from the modern one which tends to conceive of play as essentially mimetic. Toys do not derive their pleasure from being mimetic objects; rather, they are essentially pleasure objects and as such only incidentally mirror the objects of (...) a ‘serious’ or ‘real’ world. (shrink)

RESUMO O trecho entre 276b1 e 277b3 do diálogo Fedro tem sido usado como indício de uma dicotomia entre oralidade e escrita, que seria, por sua vez, signo de uma inconciliável relação entre a dialética e a escrita. Ambas são associadas, respectivamente, a uma atividade séria e a uma brincadeira ou jogo. Em nossa leitura, pretendemos mostrar não ser possível subscrever tal associação, tendo em vista que, por um lado, a passagem deve ser lida como uma espécie de síntese de (...) uma reflexão mais abrangente e, por outro, que nela se entreveem camadas de significação produzidas pelo diálogo intertextual. Nesse sentido, propomos uma interpretação que leva em conta uma análise imanente da passagem, mostrando que ela carece dos significantes para uma dicotomia oralidade vs. escrita, seguida de uma reflexão que a repõe no enquadre do diálogo, ao analisarmos os sentidos filosóficos da imagem do “Jardim de Adônis” e da oposição entre paidiá e spoudé ABSTRACT The passage between 276b1 and 277b3 of the dialogue Phaedrus has been used to indicate a dichotomy between orality and writing as a sign of an irreconcilable relationship between dialectics and writing. Both of them are associated respectively to a serious activity and a game. In our reading, we intend to show that it is not possible to subscribe to such association, considering, on the one hand, that the passage must be read as a kind of synthesis of a more comprehensive reflection and, on the other hand, that it is possible to see in this context layers of meaning produced by an intertextual dialogue. In this sense, we propose an interpretation which takes into account an immanent analysis of the passage, showing that it does not display signifiers for subscribing the dichotomy between orality and writing, followed by a discussion that puts it back in the overall context of the dialogue, by analysing the philosophical meaning of the image of the “Gardens of Adonis” and the opposition between paidiá and spoudé. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:Playtexts: Ludics in Contemporary LiteratureWalter E. BromanPlaytexts: Ludics in Contemporary Literature, by Warren Motte; 233 pp. Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1995, $31.50.When readers early encounter such stuff as “Thus in the category of agôn, for example, hide-and-seek would tend toward paidia, whereas chess would tend toward ludus” (p. 7), they suspect that this book will be a rugged and humorless read, in spite of the fun (...) hinted at in the title. Much of the book turns out to fulfill this dread. There is no escaping the sour smell of academic jargon: “to privilege,” “to foreground,” “to marginalize,” “diegetic frame,” etc., or the tangled infelicities of academic prose.Professor Motte sets out to examine a series of texts, “... each text considered a different ludic economy with its own rules and norms, but all texts defined as language games” (p. 15). While struggling through the discussions of Gombrowicz’s Ferdydurke, André Breton’s Nadja, or Albertine Sarrazin’s Astragal, one catches glimpses of a book that might have assumed sumptuous flesh. This is especially true in the chapter on Nabakov’s Pale Fire, which is quite interesting and well written. Nabakov’s is “an agonistic game that pits Kinbote against Slade, the Sladeans against Kinbote, Kinbote against us the readers, Nabakov against Kinbote, we the readers against Nabakov” (p. 81). This is a game in which Nabakov offers his readers “a full partnership in the creative process” (p. 82). I was forced to recognize that I had enjoyed reading Pale Fire, all the while only being aware of a minim of these ludic convolutions!A major problem with this book and with the books Professor Motte discusses can be shown most vividly in the chapter on Georges Perec’s La Disparition, where the game is to write an entire novel without using the letter “e.” This “literary machine” is supposed to be geared for expressing the iron impositions of life and its ineluctable loss and lack. I suspect that this semantic juice is squeezed out only by critical legerdemain. The discussion merely succeeds in convincing me that this literary tour de force might be suitable for Guinness’s Book of Records, but would likely be a boring read. It reminds me of a Rube Goldberg contraption or of Johnson’s dog walking on its “hinder legs.” Calling this a lipogram linked to Greek antiquity does little to rinse away the sweaty scent of useless exertion.Professor Motte includes a quotation from Eco referring to Swift’s book-making machine in the Grand Academy of Lagado, which provides a sinister and ludicrous image of much of this ludic literature. Eco sees the text as a “combinatory, ludic machine” (p. 191). This literature as machine and game is remarkable for its lack of any concern for the reader: “... the game is finally less vital for us than it seems to have been for Gombrowicz” (p. 68). Compare this with Dryden who took it as axiomatic that the audience’s “concernment” is of vital importance. Now, though, the readerly text is supplanted by the writerly (p. 163). René Bellato builds up “a narrative technique based on the systematic [End Page 243] frustration of the reader’s expectations...” (p. 166). A kind of apex of readerly boredom is devised in Harry Matthew’s literary machine “Matthew’s algorithm”—exemplified by the permutational poetics in Le Savoir des rois, where the same verse is given endless alterations of word order. There lurks a sniffy implication that if you don’t go along with this sort of game you aren’t a good reader. I don’t mind straining to be a good reader if the reward is commensurate with the effort. Professor Motte never explains why we ought to bother.Professor Motte presents various interesting theories of play, as diverse as Huizinga’s Homo Ludens and Freud, but his own position is not easy to discern. He seems to be sympathetic with Calvino’s notion that “all literature is play” (p. 142). For this to be true, the definition of ludics or play would have to have a Humpty Dumpty squishiness. It would have to be ample... (shrink)