Artist and PhD Student, North Carolina State University
This essay explores theoretical approaches to my recent video game art installation Super Metroid: Nightmare Edition, exhibited at the Visual Arts Exchange in Raleigh, NC. The installation permits patrons to interfere with a player’s experience of Super Metroid (Nintendo, 1994) by touching sculptural objects and disrupting technical attributes, such as game speed and sprite layers. Through this work, I propose an avant-garde strategy in video game art called glitch-kinesthetics, a technique of collage that resituates the glitch as a machine error generated from the spectator’s agential presence and re-materialization through haptic interaction with the player, whose skills are decentered through the unfolding of play.
Super Metroid: Nightmare Edition (SM: NE) is a recent installation in a continuing series of video game art exploring sensory and political reconfigurations of the body at play through hacks and modifications to game controllers and peripherals. Unlike my previous works involving remapping game controls to “readymade” sculptural objects through haptic feedback, SM: NE allows onlookers to interfere with a player’s experience of the Super Nintendo game Super Metroid (Nintendo, 1994) by touching sculptural objects that manipulate technical attributes of the game: game speed, background and sprite layers, and transparency levels. Through these dynamics, I explore the ways in which spatial and social dimensions of play unfold from a de-centering of the player by affording spectators an agential presence in the ability to technically disrupt the game in real time. I address the political stakes for a co-situated interaction between onlookers and player and the undermining (or conversely, facilitating) of play to deconstruct conventional understandings of expert play, particularly a primary player’s mastery, gratification, and a effective flow within a game.
As a gaming intervention, SM: NE offers one political avenue for game art in the contemporary avant-garde through glitch-kinesthetics, an expanded technique of collage comprising the human and non-human assemblage of gaming bodies at work in an ecology of play through glitch and participatory aesthetic practices. Glitch-kinesthetics provide a way to think about glitch as a type of machine error—the generation of noise within the system placing the game in a non-normative, compromised state—produced through an imbrication between the machine’s current gamestate and the spectator’s exploration of sculptural interfaces through touch. Glitch-kinesthetics reframes glitch as a co-constituted relationship between bodies and system: the rematerialization of the spectator and their haptic interaction with the player subject, one whose skills and expertise are decentered through the unfolding of play. In rematerializing the agency and embodied presence of “non-players,” I employ SM: NE to consider how glitch-kinesthetics transform player and game into a space of play in which the spectator’s gamic actions take place within a continually evolving field of heterogeneous gaming bodies: found objects, sensors, player, onlookers, and gaming apparatus. This production of glitch within the social field and the agential re-positioning of non-players allows us to consider the broader political and formal stakes of art modding in relation to the aesthetic experience of an onlooker who is co-situated with the player and gives us one potential direction for video game art in current discourses of the avant-garde. An exploration of glitch-kinesthetics through this artistic intervention also places a critical focus on the embodied actions of the spectator, which has received limited attention in game studies.
SM: NE and Art Modding
I place SM: NE within the tradition of game art that John Sharp describes as the appropriation and repurposing of game artifacts, iconography, cultural tropes, or material techniques, often through subversive tactics.  Matteo Bittani elaborates on this definition by defining art modifications (“modding”) as an aesthetic practice in which artists hack existing software to deconstruct their entertainment value and to intentionally affirm non-normative modes of play. Modding often produces unplayability while simultaneously foregrounding the formal abstraction of glitches generated by disrupting normal system operations. Art modding begins with and reuses the technical and material affordances of video game media—game engines, software, hardware, peripherals, interface, maps, source code—for formal and political avant-garde strategies.  Art modifications are parasitic in nature, to borrow curator Anne-Marie Schleiner’s term; they stem from conventional game technologies but re-contextualize them as radical aesthetic confrontations with players and participants. 
As a site-specific art mod upending technical aspects of gameplay to generate a specific mode of glitch aesthetics, SM: NE parasitically appropriates not only software, but also the tropes associated with hardcore and competitive gaming.
First shown at a pop-up arcade at Kings in Raleigh, NC, and then at the Visual Arts Exchange in Raleigh, the SM: NE installation demands the player stand before a television monitor to play an emulated ROM of Super Metroid using an original Super Nintendo game controller (Fig. 1).  On either side of the player are two gallery pedestals with sculptural assemblages of found objects stereotypically associated with competitive gaming culture: a small pizza, empty cans of energy drinks, preserved bowls of Cheetos and Doritos, pill bottles of stims, as well as an Xbox 360 controller broken in a fit of rage-quitting (Fig. 2). Each sculpture has been coated in a Warholesque, Pop Art-inspired Cadmium red conductive paint and attached with hook-up wire to a microcontroller with sensor electrodes programmed for capacitive touch. The microcontroller has been programmed for increased sensitivity to pressure when spectators touch a sculpture; however, only one sculptural input can be activated at a given time. Still, increased sensitivity to touch produces an intended erratic response among different control inputs. As the spectator touches individual sculptures in rapid succession, they can quickly activate and deactivate certain technical parameters during runtime. When touched, each sculpture controls a specific quality of the ROM’s technical performance. While viewers watch the player preoccupied with the Super Metroid emulator, they may choose to touch the sculptures and increase or decrease game speed, remove background layers, or remove the game’s protagonist, Samus Aran, entirely from view. There are no cues indicating which sculpture disrupts which technical parameters of the game; however, with practice, an active spectator can learn to manipulate the sculptures to intentionally hinder (or facilitate) the primary player’s experience.
I chose to appropriate Super Metroid for a couple of reasons, many extending from my own sense of nostalgia. Not only did I grow up playing the game, but I remember first being introduced to Super Metroid at a friend’s house by watching him play and eventually beat the game. I was fascinated by his mastery of the game’s power-ups, when and how to use Samus’ mechanized skills and weapons to beat bosses, and quickly advance through levels. Much like many early side-scrolling action shooters, it is a game in which player success and gratification are grounded in precision movement, aim, timing, and, perhaps, some luck. It is no surprise that the game has become quite popular in speedrunning communities over the years.
Spectatorship in Game Studies
As mentioned, scholarship in game studies rarely focuses on the agential and embodied work of spectators. Holin Lin and Chuen-Tsai Sun have examined how the situational presence and skill level of onlookers—their status as experts, apprentice gamers, or newbies—configure social interactions among players in Taipei’s Dance, Dance Revolution arcade scene through subtle gestures such as the placement of token bags and in-game song choices.  Similarly, Nick Taylor’s work observes the embodied actions of spectators at e-sport tournaments, particularly the way affective labor among circles of competitive players—sharing strategies, giving encouragement, talking trash—develops meaning within an economy of established audiences in the industry. 
Focusing on the agency of onlookers or “secondary-players,” James Newman suggests that a player does not need to control the game to gain a level of ergodic pleasure from acts of play. For instance, an onlooker might assist the primary player controlling the game by giving them advice or warnings, helping them figure out in-game tasks, or acting as an extra pair of eyes to attentively scan the game environment for clues or objects.  Like Newman’s concept of a secondary-player, SM: NE considers the significance of a spectator’s agency within the space of play. Spectators are co-situated with a primary-player, yet their agency is rematerialized through haptic interaction with the technical parameters of the game.
In this sense, I was curious to see how spectators would choose to interfere with the precision gameplay in Super Metroid, which is often dependent on power-ups. The installation itself does not necessarily require a player or onlooker to have previous experience with Super Metroid. Instead, it presupposes a heterogeneous field of gaming subjects: those with Super Metroid experience who possess a given technicity toward early platformers or side-scrolling shooters, or spectators with little to no experience with games who might find more interest in spontaneously exploring what each sculpture does when activated. Would someone assist the player by slowing down gameplay and allowing Samus to direct her plasma beam at a boss enemy? Would they use her grapple beam to swing across open sections of a level? Or would a spectator playfully work against the player by speeding up the game when Samus uses her morph ball or hi-jump boots to avoid enemy fire? Super Metroid is a game in which fun (and conversely, frustration) derives from the freneticism of play, controlling Samus as she frantically fires high-powered weapons or uses power-up abilities to avoid fire. I was curious as to how spectators would respond to this in-game chaos when given a rematerialized position of agency through technologies altering gameplay in real time.
Samuel Tobin’s recent work on the social operations of the American video arcade during the 1980s also turns a critical eye to the activity of non-players, or what he calls “hangers.”  For Tobin, the hanger is an individual in the arcade who is transient in nature: they may play a few cabinets, watch others play, loiter inconspicuously to avoid the watchful eye of arcade workers, or simply cruise the arcade floor looking for new machines or other players to join. Tobin describes these dynamic characters as “...hangers-on, and hanging-out, but also lurkers, lingerers, wall flowers, delinquents, and most of all loiterers. Hanging also describes a relation to things that is contingent, dependent but still essentially autonomous. What hangs on something is shaped by it but only temporarily.  Thus, the hanger is materialized in a coming together with other bodies in the social space of the arcade, notably players, but also staff members on the patrol for suspicious activity.
Unlike Tobin’s hanger character, the nonplayer is activated within the SM: NE gamespace through their co-constituency with an active player. I see this co-constituency as framing the spectator as a political subject who, through the aesthetic practice of glitch kinesthetics, participates in new embodied modes of play. The subjectivity organized in Super Metroid: Nightmare Edition is one in which the active spectator is aesthetically and politically bounded by what Jacques Rancière refers to as “the distribution of the sensible.”  To Rancière, the distribution of the sensible describes the system of societal rules and laws constituting sensory perception and shape the conditions of possibility for what can be seen or said, or what is possible to do or make. It delimits what can be perceived and sensed, divided into specific perceptual regimes delineating who is included and excluded in forms of sensory experience within society.  Rancière argues that this distribution of the sensible produces the possibility for common experience, yet at the same time partitions experience through the circulation of temporalities, spaces, and movements arbitrating ways in which groups or individuals participate in modes of sensation and perception.  Within this political distribution, Rancière relates aesthetics to a specific sensory regime of experience produced through a relationship among artistic production and the modes of visuality they generate, as well as the possibilities for thinking through the connections between making, doing, and seeing.  The articulation of politics to aesthetics does not describe a type of radical politics through a particular aesthetic practice, but instead examines the participatory roles a population may take up within a work of art. Rancière’s definition of a political-aesthetic subject allows us to think about the ways that the technical and material dimensions of SM: NE—sensors, microcontroller, haptic interfaces, emulator—generate new possibilities for the spectator to participate in an aesthetic experience of play. As I argue, this political subjectivity of onlookers results from a decentering of a single player’s expertise of Super Metroid by interacting with the sculptures. The sculptures provide a spectrum of potential methods by which a spectator can interact with a primary player and offset their gaming experience; through this process, political subjectivities are produced. As I’ve mentioned, a spectator might spontaneously touch the sculptural interfaces, sending the game into a critical, abnormal state, or in a more experiential and controlled approach may opt to, for instance, guide the player through a particularly difficult boss battle by intentionally slowing down the game speed, allowing the player to better avoid enemy fire. The non-player is transformed from passive bystander to active spectator, who through glitch-kinesthetics alters the technical aspects of play in unison with a player’s performance.
Glitch Kinesthetics as Collage
I define glitch as the generation of a machine error forcing the game into a non-normative state of disruption. Olga Goriunova and Alexei Shulgin suggest that a software glitch is the unpredictable rupture in a system’s normal operations; it is “when something obviously goes wrong.”  Glitch is a singular event of disruption, giving us a look at the internal, material structure of the system; in this moment of disorder the system unveils what Goriunova and Shulgin call “the ghostly conventionality of the forms by which digital spaces are organized.”  In his discussion of both machine and player video game actions, Alexander Galloway examines what he calls “non-diegetic machine acts,” or processes performed by the machine that are integral to the experience of play but not included within the gameworld itself.  These actions can be power-ups, stats, and goals expressed, but also crashes, glitches, or freezes. He refers to these as “disabling acts,” where the system impinges upon the game world in a destructive process.  Galloway examines certain disabling acts in the context of what he calls “counter-gaming,” an avant-garde strategy of subverting gameplay using software mods and hacks to undermine normative operations of play.  This often includes modifying the mechanics and rules of play to politically reshape the player’s expectations and disrupt the flow of play as designed by the developer. Rosa Menkman also discusses glitch as an unpredictable event through the production of noise artifacts, the result of a technical interruption to the system or internal errors in feedback and encoding/decoding processes. Menkman points out that noise is often an unwanted element in technical systems. Yet, she suggests that we can consider these disruptions in transmission as a positive result, producing creative possibilities, or what she calls a “destructive generativity.”  This could be the creation of new technical patterns and algorithmic possibilities making the inner workings of the system transparent.
In the case of SM: NE, the destructive generativity of glitch and the combination of errors the interactive sculptures offer—changing game speeds, removal of layers—arises experientially and aleatorically through the social dynamics of watching someone play. The individual strolls into the gallery space and is confronted by sculptural interfaces that prompt a series of questions regarding their relationship to the game: Can I touch the art? What happens when I do touch the art? What is happening to the game when I gently prod a bowl of Cheetos or smashed controller? The non-playing spectator is re-politicized through haptic feedback, co-situated with the player in an embodied act of play. In this way, the experience of the player controlling Super Metroid within the gallery becomes the site upon which the non-players’ touch is inscribed and through which glitch is generated.
Art modders often employ glitch aesthetics to foreground the materiality of the system and reveal otherwise invisible processes of the game’s inner operations. For instance, artist duo JODI’s art mod Ctrl-Space (1996) consists of a hacked version of the first-person shooter Quake (id Software, 1996), in which software code has been altered to reduce the game world to black and white noise reminiscent of a distorted TV signal continually undulating with the player’s navigation. The mod is designed so the player has no weapons or visibility. The only diegetic cues left intact are in-game sound effects. JODI’s game is unplayable from the standpoint of conventional gaming practice, making apparent the formal abstraction of glitch. In my own work, glitch is the result of the unpredictability of these interruptions to the system as they unfold with spectator interaction which occurs when they touch a sculpture to see what aspect of gameplay it disturbs. SM: NE is thrust into a series of critical game states when the spectator introduces certain errors—flashing sprite and game layers, variable game speeds—by touching sensor points on the sculptures. I interpret the participatory aspect of glitch-kinesthetics as an aesthetic strategy of collage. Here, I define collage as the organized, holistic assemblage of seemingly disparate fragments that generates often allegorical, and at times politically radical meaning through material construction. In contrast to traditional art historical definitions of collage describing pasting fragments of readymade objects onto a surface, I consider collage a rhizomatic process, a grouping of heterogeneous bodies through which political meaning is constructed; collage is the inclusion of the spectator’s body in the discourse of minimalist sculpture from the 1960s to 80s. The aesthetic constraints defining minimalist sculpture are explored through contemporary avenues of video game art through participatory interaction with the spatial dynamics of gameplay. Hal Foster argues that minimalist sculpture presented a crucial paradigmatic shift toward postmodern modes of reception through the inclusion of the spectator in the space of the work.  Thus, minimalist sculpture defined itself against late modernist work that stood separated from the viewer, redefining sculptural spatiality; the space of minimalist sculpture and the body’s movement through this space becomes its fundamental aesthetic component. As Foster argues, minimalism shifts the epistemological nature of artistic reception to “the perceptual conditions and conventional limits of art more than on its formal essence and categorical being” and the ways it produces a new type of formal autonomy of artistic practice.  SM: NE draws from these concepts of collage and minimalist aesthetic: the spatial experience of play within the gallery through the grouping of players, spectators, and sculptures—the way in which the sensible is distributed within the space, to borrow Rancière’s term—produces collage within a social field in which new political subjectivities can participate.
Interpreting SM: NE through this definition of collage also suggests the neo-avant-garde tradition of appropriating mass commodities and re-arranging them to destabilize and dismantle their commercial value. A bright red bowl of Cheetos is no longer an edible snack for a gamer who has stayed up all night, but is instead a haptic gateway for offsetting the technical parameters of a video game. Here glitch functions as a type of collage in which the artist arranges discrete units of a computational system to interfere with its formal and technical expectations at the level of bytes and pixels. In this way, the glitch patterns in Super Metroid: Nightmare Edition also reference the pop-aesthetic collages of neo-avant-garde artists like Robert Rauschenberg.
Rauschenberg’s combine paintings, composed of found commercial objects and strokes of paint, challenged the viewer through a creative deconstruction of post-war America’s commodied urban landscape. Branden Joseph argues that Rauschenberg’s use of collage—appropriating commercial images from the spectacle of American consumerism and combining them with painted surfaces—produces difference as a positive force. Joseph defines the concept of difference through the philosophy of Gilles Deleuze and his criticism of representation; for Deleuze, difference is traditionally understood as a thing’s identity, appearance, and relationship to similar things in the world, or how objects are categorized and discursively framed based on their “sameness” compared to the organization of other objects. To consider difference through an object’s sameness denies the possibility of its uniqueness. Instead, Deleuze asks us to consider difference through what he calls “difference-in-itself,” an affirmation of a thing, concept, event, or perception, and the individual singularities composing it. 
Rauschenberg’s combines introduce the viewer to difference as an experience dissociating them from concrete, habitual understandings of social reality predicated on commodification and mass conformity. As Joseph points out, Rauschenberg’s work achieves this affirmative sense of difference through the continuous multiplicities emerging from his seemingly random arrangements.  In Rauschenberg’s combines, difference emerges from the instability of his arrangements; the lack of a coherent, signifying complex between image and language creates a sensory-perceptual disordering. To Joseph, meaning arises from the instability of collage; the combines open signifying fragments to something beyond signification, difference outside of visual signifiers lacking a stable form. 
In SM: NE, collage operates through the appropriation of a commercial video game via the commodity aesthetic of a major entertainment industry, transforming the experience of gaming into an affirmative, non-signification through the anxiety-inducing instability of glitch. Much like Rauschenberg’s combines, we are confronted with a sense of affirmative difference through in-game signifiers that are disrupted to take on an asignifying presence in the way activity from non-players is inscribed onto the space of play. It is the random arrangements of recognizable gamer commodities that, when touched, activate glitch patterns and deconstruct audience expectations of the standard gamer’s conformity to normal play. When players touch these sculptures, glitch-kinesthetics emerge as a collage of familiar in-game cues—Samus, weapons, power-ups, mechanics, backgrounds—with the procedurally-generated noise of the non-diegetic operations of the system glitched-out by onlookers. The assemblage of appropriated gaming commodities and the “something apparently wrong” of the game provide multiple potential meanings that were never realized in their previously stable relation to one another.
Kinesthesia and Participatory Aesthetics
Certainly, glitch is one aspect of SM: NE, but what describes the “kinesthetic” component of the work? I use the word “kinesthetic” to indicate the haptic investment of the spectator who is invited to explore the possibilities of glitching out gameplay through the motor capacities of the body. Kinesthesia describes the muscles and tendons of the body feeling weight and pressure through the nerve endings of the hands as they touch an object. Seth Giddings and Helen Kennedy suggest that kinesthesia in gameplay relates to the early 18th century concept of aesthetics as aesthesis, or sensory experience as an imbrication of both cognition and corporeal feedback from the body. In this way, kinesthetic pleasure derived from gameplay is the result of a “recombinatory aesthesis,” emerging from the interaction between game system and players, or non-players.  We might consider a kinesthetic response the affective sensation of touching a control peripheral and producing in-game mechanics and physics empathically reciprocated within the body. When onlookers touch the sculptures in the installation, the weight felt by their nerves is transduced into potential spontaneous glitch patterns onscreen, especially if multiple sculptures are touched at the same time. In SM: NE, glitch-kinesthetics refers specifically to collage in which the participation of players and spectators produce the spatial dynamics of play through an affirmative conception of difference that introduces new modes of interaction to the social field of the gallery.
This relationality between player, spectators, sculpture, and system refers to what Claire Bishop calls participatory art.  This type of aesthetic practice throughout the 20th century has taken the form of social interventions, educational projects, and installations. To Bishop, participatory art goes beyond interpersonal interaction between two people and certain interventionist protest actions we often see in the mass media. In participatory aesthetics, people are the artistic medium, much like the inclusion of spectatorial perceptual experience within the space of minimalist sculpture. The artist is not the sole creator, but rather an instigator of events in which the audience collaborates as equals. This disrupts the conventional understanding of art in a capitalist economy in which art is a commodity: a stable, tangible object.  The social turn toward participation emerging from neo-avant-garde movements suggests participatory action does not produce commodities for the art market or institution, but instead produces social change through a type of “symbolic capital.”  It essentially carries out a specific mission of the historical avant-garde to integrate art into the praxis of everyday life, carrying out an affirmative deconstruction of the institutional status of the work through the reframing of participants as the work itself.
How does this participatory aesthetic relate to video games? Historically, participatory art has its roots in avant-garde concepts of play, introducing people to often whimsical and unexpected situations. For example, the Dadaists of the early 20th century often produced situations that prompted people to “play” and interact with artists. The Dada Season of Spring 1921, a series of experimental participatory events taking place in public spaces in Paris, underlined the Dadaist project of negating the bourgeois autonomy of art and pushed aesthetic experience into the social sphere. Artists such as André Breton and Tristan Tzara produced fliers with nonsense slogans inviting the public on guided tours, absurdist “excursions” not of historically significant sites, but instead as a conceit for introducing the public to nonsensical situations. At the end of each tour, participants were given “parting gifts”: envelopes with word play, scraps of cloth, defaced money, and erotic drawings. As these tours progressed, people began to playfully (and occasionally violently) interact with the artists, at times playing musical instruments to drown out the tour or throwing eggs, cabbages, and other food items at the guides. The audience became the very medium through which the anarchic manifesto of the Dadaists was actualized.  Like the playful excursions of the Dadaists, video games are a social event predicated on playful interactions. They require not only the participation of a player (or multiple players), but often include someone watching the player’s skills and mastery of the game. The player reacts to the presence of spectators, just as spectators are equally responsive to fluctuations of a player’s abilities. Spectator and player are co-dependent, and social interactions continually re-emerge through dynamic relationships during play.
In SM: NE, glitch-kinesthetics as a process of collage resembles an active, embodied participation through what Seth Giddings has called microethology in gameplay.  Drawing from Deleuze and the concept of ethology—the study of animal behavior and the affective capacities of animals within their ecosystems—Giddings proposes microethology as a means to observe gameplay, defined as a play event in which bodies at work on each other (human players, technologies, observers, in-game objects, characters, and forces) constitute an assemblage through which the dynamic structures of play are unveiled. In a microethology of play, the material and aesthetic dimensions of embodied interaction, affect, and machinic circuits of feedback emerge through the relation of heterogeneous bodies.  In SM: NE, collage is a participatory aesthetic, manifest as a microethology of players, spectators, sculptures, electrodes, ROM, Samus, Hyper Beam, and so forth. To expand Giddings’ concept, I propose that a microethology is both a way to study and document acts of play, but is also an already-existing material assemblage in the world, simultaneously an active intervention and perceptual-sensory event.
In my work, a microethology unfolds between human and non-human agents, producing variations of gameplay through glitch that positions spectator, player, and machines as co-constitutive. The body of the spectator is politically repositioned to take on an active, embodied role in the success, ruin, enjoyment, or frustration of the player through experiential chance encounters with the sculptural interfaces. Through this emergent play, a very skilled player attempting a speedrun could easily have their attempts botched by audience members exploring glitch patterns enacted by the sculptures. A player with no experience with Super Metroid may be given assistance by a cooperative gallery-goer who has intuitively figured out how to control game speed, slowing down gameplay during a particularly hectic boss battle. Most importantly, a consideration of glitch-kinesthetics shakes up the social construct of the lone gaming subject who showcases her mastery and expertise to a passive audience; collaboration (or opposition) among players and watchers is a co-situated process that occurs at the level of machine operations.
SM: NE explores the emergent possibilities of play when the spectator is politically re-centered and rematerialized through a collaborative interaction with a primary player. Glitch-kinesthetics as an aesthetic strategy foregrounds these emergent variations through what I see as a potentially significant trajectory for contemporary video game art within the cultural imagination of play.
Eddie Lohmeyer is an artist and PhD student in the Communication, Rhetoric, and Digital Media program at North Carolina State University. His work explores the intersections between affect theory, animation, and histories and theories of the avant-garde. His YouTube channel, including videos of Super Metroid: Nightmare Edition, can be found at: https://youtu.be/WZ7ija2EPPM.
1. John Sharp, Works of Game: On the Aesthetics of Games and Art (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 2015), 14.
2. Matteo Bittani, “Game Art: (This) is not a Manifesto, (this) is a Disclaimer,” in Gamescenes: Art in the Age of Videogames, ed. Matteo Bittanti and Domenico Quaranta (Milano: Johan & Levi, 2006), 9.
3. Anne-Marie Schleiner quoted in Matteo Bittani, “Game Art: (This) is not a Manifesto, (this) is a Disclaimer,” 10.
4. Pop-up arcade, sponsored by the North Carolina State University Dept. of Communication, Kings, Raleigh NC, December 12th, 2016; “Depth,” Visual Art Exchange, Raleigh NC, January 6th-26th 2017.
5. Holin Lin and C.-T. Sun, “The Role of Onlookers in Arcade Gaming: Frame Analysis of Public Behaviours,” Convergence: The International Journal of Research into New Media Technologies 17, no. 2 (2011): 126, 134.
6. Nicholas Thiel Taylor, “Now You’re Playing with Audience Power: The Work of Watching Games,” Critical Studies in Media Communication 33, no. 4 (2016): 2, 5.
7. James Newman, “The Myth of the Ergodic Videogame: Some Thoughts on Player-Character Relationships in Videogames,” Game Studies, 2, no. 1 (2002).
8. Samuel Tobin, “Hanging in the Video Arcade,” Journal of Games Criticism, 3, no. 1A (2016), http://gamescriticism.org/articles/tobin-3-a. 9. Ibid.
10. Jacques Rancière, The politics of Aesthetics: The Distribution of the Sensible, ed. and trans. Gabriel Rockhill (London: Bloomsbury, 2015), 7.
13. Ibid., 4.
14. Olga Goriunova and Alexei Shulgin, “Glitch,” in Software Studies: A Lexicon, ed. by Matthew Fuller, (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 2008), 110.
15. Ibid., 114.
16. Alexander Galloway, “Gamic Action, Four Moments,” Gaming: Essays on Algorithmic Culture (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2006), 28.
18. Galloway, “Countergaming,” Gaming: Essays on Algorithmic Culture, 107-109.
19. Rosa Menkman, “Glitch Studies Manifesto,” in Video Vortex Reader II: Moving Images beyond YouTube, ed. by Geert Lovink and Rachel Somers (Amsterdam: Institute of Network Cultures, 2011), 339, 341.
20. Hal Foster, The Return of the Real (Cambridge: MIT Press, 2001), 36.
21. Ibid., 40.
22. See Gilles Deleuze, Difference and Repetition, trans. Paul Patton (New York: Columbia University Press, 1994), 55-56; Branden Wayne Joseph, Random Order: Robert Rauschenberg and the Neo-Avant-Garde (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 2003), 68-69.
23. Joseph, Random Order, 22, 157-158.
24. Ibid., 166.
25. Seth Giddings and Helen Kennedy, “Little Jesuses and Fuck-Off Robots: On Aesthetics, Cybernetics, and Not Being Very Good at Lego Star Wars,” in M. Swalwell and J. Wilson, eds., The Pleasures of Computer Gaming: Essays on Cultural History, Theory, and Aesthetics (Jefferson, NC: McFarland, 2008), 31-32.
26. Claire Bishop, Artificial Hells: Participatory Art and the Politics of Spectatorship, London: Verso Books, 2012, 1-2.
28. Ibid., 11.
29. Ibid., 69, 70.
30. Seth Giddings, “Events and Collusions: A Glossary for the Microethnography of Video Game Play,” Games and Culture 4, no. 2 (2008): 149-150.