Video Games and Visual Cues

Playing video games will help you become a better improviser!

Wait! Before you say, "that's preposterous," and go watch cute kitten videos, hear me out. The kittens will always be there! Well, so will this blog, but still. Just hold on. I promise this will make sense! And, if it doesn't, you can sit back smugly in your chair and think, "I knew his ideas wouldn't make sense. I just knew it!" Everyone likes being right! See. If you stay, and learn, you made the right choice. And, if you stay, and don't learn, you'll feel vindicated. You win either way.

I recently completed Dishonored on Xbox. It's an incredible game, for a number of reasons, not least of which is how much information it silently communicates. Dishonored is all about surviving a unique world. You're a "dishonored" guard, who happens to be a pretty incredible assassin. You're out for revenge. And.......

'Start!"

That's all you have to go on. Better escape the jail cell, and do it quietly. How do you do that quietly?

You crouch. You're told how to crouch. Get used to crouching, because you're sneaking around a lot in this game. The guards never know where you are, and you want to keep it that way.

When you're playing from a first person perspective, however, going from standing to crouching is a minor perspective change. A few inches really. In the heart of a battle, and you're trying to slip out quietly, do you remember if you're already down? Am I standing? It's so hard to tell!

Well, it would be hard to tell...but the design team are silent geniuses. They knew the player needed some visual clues. The player needs a height hint. So they decided to change the blade. When you're walking around upright, you hold the blade upright and when you're down low, the knife is folded back, along your arm. You're ready to strike, and you're educated! You know you can duck out of the room unnoticed because you have a clear visual indication you're crouching.

It's a visual cue that saves you a lot of frustrating guesswork.

Do you leave your improv audience to frustrating guesswork? You might. We all might. Visual cues are invaluable in a show.

When we're creating an improvised world at our Rocklin theater, the audience is much like a gamer, thrust into a unique situation. Like a game designer, we, the players better give the audience some information. It doesn't have to be verbal. We don't have to turn to an audience and tell them, "here's the table, and the family photo that makes me cry is sitting right here. On the table." It can be nonverbal cues. Pick up the photo, and tear up. Put it down, and leave the room. When you enter the room again, cross over to the table, pick something up and begin to cry, the audience will assume it's the picture again. The audience is smart, and is looking for patterns. X means Y. Reinforce it. Play with it. Help the audience. It'll probably help you in the scene too.

Listening In at Blaze Pizza

I live by Blaze Pizza in Roseville. It's fantastic. Think Chipotle of Pizza. Fresh. Organic. Delicious. Did you know Lebron James helped create the chain? I didn’t! It doesn’t change anything, but it’s a interesting little bit of trivia. Go there. And, have fun, be someone else. I learned something this week. Listening is filled with nearly imperceptible gaps. If I wasn't role playing, I wouldn't have noticed
I should explain.

Every time I go to Blaze, I change up my name. I've been Todd, Robbie, and this past week I was Vermont. As Robbie I was passed along the Blaze assembly line. "Robbie, what kind of sauce would you like?" "Robbie, What toppings?" It's 60 feet of persona.

This week, however, as Vermont, something weird happened (weirder then role playing in a Blaze pizza you ask, while rolling your eyes. Yes!)

The Blaze attendant, let's call him John, added red sauce to my pizza, and as he pushed along my pizza, he said "thanks, Paul." At least, I thought he said, "thanks Paul." But, he couldn't have. I didn't know him. I wasn't wearing aname tag. Every time I go into Blaze I'm someone new. I was Vermont. I've never seen this guy, yet I could have sworn he said, "thanks, Paul."

What's happening? I think my brain shut off, and filled in some gaps. It made some assumptions. How many times have we been told, "thanks, ________." That gap is for your name. It happens hundreds of times. Makes sense your brain would eventually just fill in information it assumes will "go here, and here, and here."

It's like the brain is painting by numbers, and just figures where the numbers go.

That'll mess up your "listening," though. It effected me in Blaze. I've always thought I was a really good listener. I thought I heard most everything, and processed it really well. Maybe not! In fact, that moment reinforced it....definitely not.

How often do you think this happens? How often do you think your brain comes into a situation, hears a little bit, and assumes, "we'll take it from here," and tunes out the rest. It must happen on a micro-scale pretty frequently.

Do you think it happens to you onstage? The interaction with John shook me up. I "knew" I heard something that never existed. I responded to a ghost image. Truly listening is vigilant work moment to moment. I feel like the brain wants to sneak in and simply things with assumptions.

Stay vigilant! :)

Let Go of Perfection

Since I’ve started improvising in Sacramento (about 8 years ago) I’ve seen the parallels of being a good improviser and being a good person. If friends and family ask my advice, it’s typically based in the lessons I’ve taken from improv. There have been a handful of people in the last month telling me that I should write down my advice. Independent of each other and on separate occasions they said I should share my life stories and give my advice based in improv teachings… the honest truth is I didn’t want to. I was so embarrassed at this idea. WHAT?!? I don’t have anything figured out in my life! I have no right to tell people what to do in theirs! What would I possibly have to say that could help or inspire anyone? … I’m sure they meant it as a compliment and they probably had no clue how much I was consumed by the idea…

Two things happened to me recently: one on stage and one with a friend that I thought proved how “unqualified” I was to give advice. But, actually these events helped me realize I do have something to share.

I was recently in a personally rough show at Blacktop Comedy. Putting things in perspective the audience enjoyed the show, but I didn’t feel we were working well together or supporting each other at a level that I wanted. Basically the show was fine. But, I wanted the show to be amazing. Those were my expectations. The team talked about it and we all collectively beat ourselves up for not having that “perfect” show. It was ugly. There was nothing gained from ripping into ourselves. Talking with the team I realized that we didn’t give ourselves enough credit for showing up and finishing the show. Was it perfect? No. It wasn’t. But, you have to praise the fact that you just showed up and tried. I realized it’s easy to forget how much work just showing up takes.

I shared my thoughts with the actors. You’re enough. Let’s praise the fact that you showed up and kept showing up and being present. You didn’t give up! You tried! That’s enough. Seriously. That is enough. I could feel the relief in the room.

Then I was challenged by this improv wisdom. You see, I recently found out that a close friend of mine lied to me. This wasn’t a small lie… it was a “friendship-shaking” kind of lie. At first I was so upset, I kept beating myself up for being so trusting and for allowing someone to hurt me like that. I questioned my outlook and my naive way of trusting. I was worried that I would continue to make the same mistake and keep trusting people who were bound to hurt me and betray my trust. I isolated myself. I worried that I needed to be tougher and less trusting of EVERYONE. 

This damaged friendship brought up how I felt after that rough show: frustrated, let down, confused, angry. I wouldn't let the performers beat themselves up after the show... and I couldn't keep beating myself up. I had to remember and tell myself I AM ENOUGH. Not everyone will live up to my expectations my life won’t be a “perfect show“… but I need to give myself credit for trying. I was a good friend. It didn’t go the way I wanted, but I can celebrate that I was present and showed up. I’m going to keep showing up in all my relationships. And some days that’s all I can do… but, I will remind myself that it is enough.

I am not perfect. No one is. Even the most inspiring people are flawed.

Both improv and life are not about being perfect. It’s about showing up and trying. That’s enough.