Back in 2004-05, Facebook was opened up to colleges and as an excursionary lark, I joined along with my freshmen peers. There weren’t games, or groups, or even photos. Just a profile pic, a wall, and… the Poke.It was a curious thing. At the time, Facebook barely made sense itself, much less this feature that was never explained. So we clicked it, chuckled, and collectively moved on. But every once-in-awhile, someone new would join and start asking questions about this-and-that. And inevitably the poke would come up.“What is this?”The group would answer, “Oh, don’t worry about it. It’s nothing”. And while everyone would agree, someone would inevitably tell a little story about how they used it once, or a long time ago. “I got into a poke war with my best friend.” “One time, I accidentally poked a girl I liked.” These stories were a revelation to me. Here’s this little lowly link on this website that did absolutely nothing, and yet there were stories, there were implications of social etiquette. People were imbuing this action with no function with well, something…ish.Now the other actor, the Like. This button had a purpose. It was declarative. “I see this, and in my opinion, I approve.” This Facebook feature is omnipresent. You can like a post, a photo — you can even like whole websites on the website itself.I talk about the Poke and the Like together because they illustrate the state of, not just social platforms, but the internet today. Facebook is a toolbox, helping people perform social tasks. And while it’s one of the most complicated toolboxes created thus far, it’s still incredibly inadequate in expressing the full range of human communication and emotion.The Poke and the Like speak to these inadequacies. The Poke is too ambiguous, people form their own meanings, but it doesn’t immediately translate. Perfect for an inside joke, but doesn’t scale otherwise. While the Like is sharper, it still demonstrates the need for more nuance. It reveals the platform’s weaknesses. It can’t yet account for dislike, disdain, fervent support, apathetic acknowledgement, or enthusiastic love.Love.The internet doesn’t yet know how to love.




-Phong Tran

Back in 2004-05, Facebook was opened up to colleges and as an excursionary lark, I joined along with my freshmen peers. There weren’t games, or groups, or even photos. Just a profile pic, a wall, and… the Poke.

It was a curious thing. At the time, Facebook barely made sense itself, much less this feature that was never explained. So we clicked it, chuckled, and collectively moved on. But every once-in-awhile, someone new would join and start asking questions about this-and-that. And inevitably the poke would come up.

“What is this?”

The group would answer, “Oh, don’t worry about it. It’s nothing”. And while everyone would agree, someone would inevitably tell a little story about how they used it once, or a long time ago. 

“I got into a poke war with my best friend.” 

“One time, I accidentally poked a girl I liked.” 

These stories were a revelation to me. Here’s this little lowly link on this website that did absolutely nothing, and yet there were stories, there were implications of social etiquette. People were imbuing this action with no function with well, something…ish.

Now the other actor, the Like. This button had a purpose. It was declarative. “I see this, and in my opinion, I approve.” This Facebook feature is omnipresent. You can like a post, a photo — you can even like whole websites on the website itself.

I talk about the Poke and the Like together because they illustrate the state of, not just social platforms, but the internet today. Facebook is a toolbox, helping people perform social tasks. And while it’s one of the most complicated toolboxes created thus far, it’s still incredibly inadequate in expressing the full range of human communication and emotion.

The Poke and the Like speak to these inadequacies. The Poke is too ambiguous, people form their own meanings, but it doesn’t immediately translate. Perfect for an inside joke, but doesn’t scale otherwise. While the Like is sharper, it still demonstrates the need for more nuance. It reveals the platform’s weaknesses. It can’t yet account for dislike, disdain, fervent support, apathetic acknowledgement, or enthusiastic love.

Love.

The internet doesn’t yet know how to love.

-Phong Tran

Gamification: Why You Can’t Stop Drawing Something.

The videogame industry is nearly 40-years old, and brought in $74 billion dollars last year alone. World of Warcraft has 10.3 million subscriptions (each with a monthly charge of $15). Motion-sensor cameras let you move your entire body, while broadband connects you to anyone playing anywhere in the world at any time. The television station, G4, was the first of its kind, creating content geared specifically towards videogamers - it’s not the greatest television, but it does exist. The “geeks” have grown up playing games and are now teaching their own kids how to game. The videogame industry has become its own entity, existing alongside movies and music - a staple part of our culture.

So what is a casual game, and what is gamification? 

The easiest mark of a casual game is where it exists. If it lives on your phone, or inside Facebook - it is most likely a casual game, like Cityville or Draw Something. Instead of shooting aliens or saving Princesses, casual gaming tasks the gamer with simple actions, that can be done repetitively and continuously. 

As a genre, they are fairly innocuous diversions, so why is it significant to talk about casual games? 

The biggest reason: they completely destroyed the zero-sum game. 

Back in the 90s, there were the “Console Wars”. Companies like Nintendo, Sega, Sony, (and later Microsoft) were all fighting, primarily over eight year-olds. Their market share was the collective allowances of kids, and maybe how weak their parents were to begging. There were a finite number of kids, so if one dollar went to Nintendo, then a dollar was lost for Sega or Sony or Microsoft. 

Casual games changed that. Eight year-olds aren’t necessarily playing Cityville, but their moms are, and their uncles, and their aunts, and their cousins… The accessibility and  playability hasn’t stolen market share, in fact, it has created new markets. As aforementioned, World of Warcraft has 10.3 million monthly subscriptions, while Cityville has six million people playing every single day. These are brand-new gamers, people who don’t know Mario & Luigi, but are now spending 99 cents here or $2.99 there to build a gas station in their virtual city. 

These games are engineered for new demographics. Easy to start playing, ubiquitous (always on your phone reminding you to build houses), and socially-binding (you always know when your Facebook friends do something on the same game.) Which leads to the other fundamental development of gaming culture: the psychology of addiction has matured. The principles of rewarding players at certain tasks, having your friends play to make it a localized place to socialize, time-delaying certain aspects to encourage returning - these concepts have been refined over the past decades, and are now being tracked down to the click for these “casual” games. 

Which leads the other gaming shift: gamification. To “gamify” something is to apply these principles to non-traditional gaming environments. Adding rewards for reading a blog, or collecting points for posting comments. To be able to track your “progress” for shopping, and compare it against other shoppers is a new level of granular psychology that wasn’t possible before the ubiquity of internet usage. You are no longer “keeping up with the Jones’ family” but also the Smiths, the Adeoyes, and the Chengs. 

- Phong Tran

Additional Reading:

Tim Roger’s essay on Casual Games: who killed videogames? (a ghost story)

Brian Reynolds, Chief Designer at Zynga: A brief interview of Reynolds about how casual games differ from traditional videogames.

“Jesse Schell: Visions of the Gamepocalypse”

Devil’s Advocate Opens

Our client, Devil’s Advocate is officially opening the doors TODAY @ 3PM. Featuring over 40 taps, a wide selection of wine, and a full bar, welcome to your new favorite spot, Minneapolis. Check out their Facebook page or follow them on Twitter. or BOTH. 

Drink. Debate. Defend.

Interview: Bela Vandervoort

Bela Vandervoort, Catalyst Studios Sr. Developer, Pullup Champion

Oh hey there, blog readers. Welcome to the first Q&A session with one of Catalyst’s best and brightest, Béla Vander Voort (yeah, that’s a real name). Fueled by Diet Coke and the intensely competitive pull-up battle currently happening here at the office, Béla is a master coder, short-short wearer, and Chipotle consumer. Let’s ask him a few questions.

  • Hannah: So what is your title, besides “exceptional employee #4”, which you have listed on your business cards?
  • Béla: I guess my more official title is lead developer.

  • H: Morgan Freeman or Samuel L. Jackson? and why?
  • B: Samuel L. Jackson, because he was in Pulp Fiction. And he was a bad ass muthaf***er. Obviously.
  • H:  What is your favorite current project?
  • B:  Right now it’s Marketing Partner Agreements because of all the new code I’m rewriting, that’s always fun.  I’m getting to solve new problems.  I imagine Béla was any teacher’s favorite student, “getting” to solve new problems.  
  • H:  Who’s your favorite spice girl?
  • B:  uh, F. none of the above.  
  • H:  Fine, I’ll write that down, but if any of them read this…
  • B:  They’re going to be very disappointed.  I sense no remorse from Béla.
  • H:  Any significance to your stellar name?
  • B:  I’m actually named after the famous composer, Béla Bartók. COOL.

There you have it. Stay tuned for more Q&A’s with the staff here at Catalyst.

-Hannah Varn

Welcome to the new Catalyst Studios.

Let’s call it a re-introduction. It was time to clean up, stand up straight, and look the part. Over the last few years we’ve become a fresh, strategic interactive consultancy, and it was time for our website to highlight the thinking we’re proud to employ. We’re very happy with the result.