The Hidden Park: Great Concept, Cool Technology, Careful Narrative Design

Imagine a portable learning toolbox with these capabilities:

• GPS
  
• A digital camera
• An accelerometer

Now bring to it a conceptual framework:

• Alternative reality gaming
• Geochaching
  

What are the possibilities? What if you added a bit of story, a bit of fantasy, and loads of imagination?

You or I probably still wouldn't come up with The Hidden Park, but, luckily for us, the people at Bulpadok did. Here is a brief description from their press kit:

The adventure begins when the children receive a video call from a troll named Trutton, head of the Magical Wildlife Protection Association. Trutton explains that their park is in danger of being bulldozed by greedy developers. The kids must collect evidence to prove the existence of magical animals in their park.

The children navigate their way through the park by following a map that lets them know where the magical creatures live. Of course, Trutton’s map is magical – as they move past landmarks in the park the map tells them where to go next. The children must solve puzzles and riddles on their way to the next destination. Clues to the answers can be found on the signposts in the park.

Following Trutton’s directions, the children take photos of various landmarks. As if by magic, Trutton’s fantastical friends appear in the photos – sometimes right next to the children! The photos are stored in a gallery, so at the end of the day the children have an album of their adventure.

Very, very cool. So: Great concept. Smart, innovative people thinking outside of the box. Nifty technology. Contemporary aesthetic look and feel. That's what it takes, right? But what role did narrative design play? Narrative is clearly an element, but did it matter? Did they just hit the jackpot of a serendipitous cross over of cool technologies and a neat concept and then threw in a fun story as the frosting on the cake?

Oh, no. Not even close.

If you go to the blog of the creators of the game and look up the post titled Shaping the Story, you will see that they took the narrative element very, very seriously. These cutting edge game designers discuss Aristotle's classic three act structure, the narrative arc, and several modern storytelling theorists. Narrative design, it appears, was a central consideration of their game design, and, I would venture, central to the success of the product. These people thought long and hard about what the right narrative structure for the product should be, and have some very interesting thoughts on the mapping of a story arc to physical geography. An excerpt:

One of the really fun things about writing The Hidden Park was being able to physically map the narrative shape over the landscape. Many of the pathways that we plotted actually physically drew an arc through space. While this was satisfying at some theoretical level, it also became important for storytelling. We didn’t want people to double back over territory they had already covered and we didn’t want people to cross back over their path. The Hidden Park is a simple linear narrative and it was important for that to be reflected geographically. We wanted to create the feeling of physically moving forward through the story.

As GPS gaming evolves, it may be desirable to maintain a consistency between the shape of the narrative and its position in real space. Where a detective story leads the protagonist around in circles, a GPS mystery may literally lead the player back to where they started. Often in a story, a writer wants to revisit a particular theme and reveal something new to their audience. By requiring a player to physically return to a location, their path will trace the intricate folds and layers of sophisticated storytelling.

They go on to say that this mapping of physical space to the storytelling structure is not a hard and fast rule. But my point is to call attention to their careful consideration to the narrative structure of the product. They did their theoretical homework, and it pays off in the final product. Without a strong narrative, the product would have been gadgety cool and amusing. With the narrative, it becomes a compelling adventure that leads the player forward, as they state, "with direction and purpose."

So if we revisit the list of key features from their website, there seems to be a hidden element that didn't make the list:

• GPS
  
• A digital camera
• An accelerometer
• Alternative reality gaming
• Geochaching

and...

• ???

Go ahead, snap a photo with your iPhone and see what shows up...

Where is Emotion, Engagement, and Aesthetics in the Learning Sciences?

I am looking at the index to the The Cambridge Handbook of the Learning Sciences. I am surprised to find:

• No entry for "engagement"
  
• No entry for "aesthetics"
  
• Only 2 pages under "emotions," one of which refers to this passage:
  

  We need a better understanding of the intertwining of affective, relational, and communicative aspects of learning interactions. How do emotional responses mediate learning, and how do they emerge from learning? (p.29)

  Good question!
  

• Only 2 pages under "narratives"
  
• Under "motivation," which has 21 sub-headings and 55 page references, there are a handful of possibly relevant subheadings: "Attention and motivation," with 1 page listed, "boredom and motivation," with 2 pages listed, "deep level engagement and motivation," 1 page listed, "emotions and motivation," 1 page listed.
  

Could someone clue me into to what a learning scientist might call "emotions," aesthetics," "engagement," and "narrative"? Could the field really have attended so little to these issues? I realize that the Handbook is hardly the entire corpus of the field, but I guess I was hoping to find a bit more than I did.

On Beyond ADDIE: Narrative, Aesthetics, & Learner Emotion

I cut my teeth in instructional design by designing a web-based air quality meteorology course. It all started when, one day, the director of my organization walked down the hall, stopping in at each office, asking, "Does anybody want to build a course for NOAA?" I said, "Sure!" and got to work.

At the time, I had no practical experience in the field to speak of. I had taken one class called "Introduction to Instructional Design." So I opened up my Principles of Instructional Design textbook from the class and started from page one. It was a great resource and got me up and running quickly. Between myself and two meteorology graduate students from NCSU, we produced the entire course that summer. To my knowledge, it was one of the first self-contained courses online and can still be found here (if you visit, please make sure you picture the state of the web in 1996 -- Hotmail was launched that summer and there was a whopping 342,081 websites online).

With time and experience, however, I have come to feel that the ADDIE-type approaches like the one in my Principles of Design book too often fail to account for the humanness of the learner. While you can use those methods to consider the humanity of your audience, you can also fulfill every prescribed step and entirely miss it.

What would I add? Let's start with three very powerful, very underutilized forces:

1. Narrative: Story has been used to bind people together in shared knowledge and understanding for thousands of years. It is arguably the first instructional strategy ever used to convey essential cultural knowledge to the rising generations. It's an essential aspect of virtually every culture on the planet. We are wired for narrative. We think in narrative, we speak in narrative, we even dream in narrative. We perceive our very existence as an unfolding narrative. We collectively pay billions of dollars to experience well-crafted (and not so well-crafted) narrative. Narrative design needs to be deeply understood and routinely practiced in our field.

How many instructional designers have even heard of the field of narratology? How many designers have studied the construction of a documentary, a screenplay, a dance performance, a musical composition? We are starting to scratch the surface with our recent attention to role-play scenarios and gaming, but have far, far to go.

2. Aesthetics: Human beings respond powerfully to aesthetic design. Every decision we make, like it or not, is mediated by our subjective perceptions. The "Bottomless Soup" study done by Brian Wansink, a recent winner of the IgNoble Prize for nutrition (and also has a book on the subject, Mindless Eating: Why We Eat More Than We Think) demonstrates this beautifully. And, of course, aesthetics don't only make us fat. They can relax us, orient us, inspire us, enliven us. Aesthetics are much more than the surface qualities of an object, but extend to encompass the richness of our experience, and the best applications of aesthetic design can embody and express layers of meaning in a profound, prereflective way. Patrick Parrish is starting the conversation in our field. This conversation needs to be accelerated and expanded.

3. Learner Emotion: Human beings feel, and what they feel influences their readiness to learn, their willingness to learn, how much they actually learn, and whether they will (ever) decide to learn about a particular topic again. As Russ Osguthorpe asks, "If they got an A in the class, and tell us that they never want to see that content again in their lives, have they really learned what we intended to teach them?" Emotions can work for or against learning. In order to account for emotion in our learning design, we need to know what learners are feeling before, during, and after learning experiences occur.

We have a whole science devoted to measuring learning before, during, and after learning experiences and, ostensibly, ways to intervene based on what is learned from these assessments. Where is the science and technique of measuring the learners' emotions? What are the best practices of how to intervene based in what is learned? What makes us think we can teach effectively if we only know what learners know and not how they feel? How they feel about learning this topic, how they feel about their ability to learn this topic, how they feel right now in this learning session during this learning activity? Engagement is both a cognitive and an emotional experience. Can you imagine a flow experience in a learning setting that was devoid of emotion? Can you imagine an overwhelmed, bored, distracted, or anxiety-filled learner maximizing their learning?

We teach human beings. Let's start designing human experiences as well as learning experiences.

Learning as a Human Experience

I was trained as an instructional designer and have worked as one now for over a decade. As Brenda Bannan-Ritland said to me recently, "I honor that tradition." But I feel drawn to other disciplines that can inform it, unconventional design approaches that can improve it, and a new emphasis on learners as human beings, whose hearts are inseparably connected to their heads. When we learn, we feel, and not enough designers of learning experiences care enough about that. And it is worth caring about. It is worth designing for. It can make all the difference.

In this blog, I explore the many, many places outside the field (and a few inside) where designers have chosen to account for the human experience in a holistic way. I explore what it feels like to be a learner and how design can impact that experience. I explore how we can make learning rewarding to the human mind and enriching to the human spirit.

Please join me.

Joseph