What makes games funny?

[TexasImprovMassacre]

What makes a game funny is different for each game. Figuring that out is part of playing the game.


I'm afraid that i'll have to agree with justin.

[York99]

It's also one of those things you get good at through experience.

ECHO ECHo ECho Echo echo

this is probably still my biggest challenge as an improviser.

[illades]

The more I do this improv shit, the more I realize that the game and the scene and the relationship are inseparable. They depend on each other end feed each other and even are each other.

"figuring out" the game is, I think, a bit of a problem. It's what gets people in their heads. The more you do this, the more you just get to a point where you just feel it out. Like a musician.

Every scene has a bunch of patterns and they're all potential games and it's more a matter of making a choice of which is most fun to play than it is of figuring out what the "game" is. It's not a puzzle to be solved, it's a constant making of choices of which action and reaction are the most fun and interesting to play. We want to relax into them instead of getting our minds all tied up trying to "figure them out".

And when we realize, clearly, what the game is... that is the time to let go of it for a while. If we know that every time I mention "mom" you start to cry, then we can chill for a bit and quit playing that game. Because if we realize it, then the audience does too, and they will be pleased as punch later when we do it again. The moment the game is clear to both players, that is a moment to focus back on the relationship aspect of the scene. Who we are to each other, what's the context of the scene. We can get more conversational, because we have the game in our pocket for whenever we need it, and when that moment shows itself through the scene, it's so sweet. Much sweeter than if we find the game and keep hammering it home til it's dead.

A game played just for the sake of playing a game can be fun, but usually isn't going to take us anywhere too interesting. A game played out of an organic relationship, and which serves to explore the relationship, is going to render much more interesting results. I think that most of the time the game and the relationship are best when they are so interconnected as to be inseparable. If we have strong emotional points of view about the actions of the game, and about each other, this will start to happen.

To use an example used by a previous post, if a surgeon is handed a dagger, then a chainsaw, then a bomb, probably it'll get a chuckle because it's silly and absurd, and all the improv students in the audience will think "that's a game" so it'll give them a certain pleasure, and ultimately... where do you go from there?

But if a surgeon is handed a dagger, and he has an emotional response... (either he thinks that this nurse is revolutionary and brilliant, or he feels she's incompetent, or they have had an affair so he feels she's fucking with him... ANYTHING but accepting the dagger as normal... he must have a point of view and a feeling about the fact of being handed a dagger), then whatever his reaction is, will lead to relationship as well as game. She's helping him revolutionize medicine by using blunt instruments and blah blah blah. She's BRILLIANT! So that every subsequent thing he is handed (chainsaw, bomb) becomes more brilliant. The comedy isn't so much in the heightening as in the combination of heightening with its furthering of what this means to both of them.

Yosemite Sam getting his face blown off in more and more ludicrous ways is not funny in and of itself. Yosemite Sam getting madder and madder about it, and strengthening his resolve to kill Bugs Bunny, thus egging Bugs Bunny on to be more and more of a smart ass prankster, thus heightening the game, thus making Yosemite Sam angrier, thus making him more intent on killing him, thus making Bugs Bunny more smart-assy. They are all interconnected and feed each other.

So I'd say that there's nothing particularly funny about the game itself. The game is just a technical aspect of a scene. The game is just a pattern, heightened, which serves as a vehicle to heighten relationships and stakes and emotions, which are the basis of a scene.

[York99]

But if a surgeon is handed a dagger, and he has an emotional response... (either he thinks that this nurse is revolutionary and brilliant, or he feels she's incompetent, or they have had an affair so he feels she's fucking with him... ANYTHING but accepting the dagger as normal... he must have a point of view and a feeling about the fact of being handed a dagger), then whatever his reaction is, will lead to relationship as well as game.

I agree with this for the most part... however...

There is something to be said for the approach of accepting the dagger as real (forgetting about the game of heightening the weapon/tool). It's an absurdist approach, yes, but as long as it's played straight and not just to get a laugh then that's a fun alternate reality to play with.

[illades]

But if a surgeon is handed a dagger, and he has an emotional response... (either he thinks that this nurse is revolutionary and brilliant, or he feels she's incompetent, or they have had an affair so he feels she's fucking with him... ANYTHING but accepting the dagger as normal... he must have a point of view and a feeling about the fact of being handed a dagger), then whatever his reaction is, will lead to relationship as well as game.

I agree with this for the most part... however...

There is something to be said for the approach of accepting the dagger as real (forgetting about the game of heightening the weapon/tool). It's an absurdist approach, yes, but as long as it's played straight and not just to get a laugh then that's a fun alternate reality to play with.

Good point. I'll amend my statement to say that you just can't treat the fact that it's a dagger as insignificant. That dagger is a gift and there must be a point of view about the person and the dagger should play into that point of view. Like maybe "you keep the daggers so clean and sharp" or whatever. It should just not be a shrug of the shoulders or an insignificant detail.

[Milquetoast]

Figuring things out, in life and in improv, is a trap. Learning, on the other hand...

It sounds like the big thing missing from my original thoughts is that games ultimately let us discover the characters and their relationship to each other, and that the deepest humor comes from the characters themselves.

In short: Games are character fuel.

Neh?

[Jastroch]

I would also say the opposite is true. Games are all about the characters and vice versa. Seriously, read games people play.

[Milquetoast]

FINE

AUGH

[illades]

As the scene continues, Milque keeps saying "fine" and getting more and more annoyed when told to read "Games People Play" and keeps not reading it, in the end it ruins his friendship with Jastroch, who is hurt and baffled by Milque's refusal to read the book. That book means the world to Jastroch, as it changed his life for the better.

In the end, Milque's life is somehow saved by having not read the book. Jastroch is a shambles.

[York99]

But if a surgeon is handed a dagger, and he has an emotional response... (either he thinks that this nurse is revolutionary and brilliant, or he feels she's incompetent, or they have had an affair so he feels she's fucking with him... ANYTHING but accepting the dagger as normal... he must have a point of view and a feeling about the fact of being handed a dagger), then whatever his reaction is, will lead to relationship as well as game.

I agree with this for the most part... however...

There is something to be said for the approach of accepting the dagger as real (forgetting about the game of heightening the weapon/tool). It's an absurdist approach, yes, but as long as it's played straight and not just to get a laugh then that's a fun alternate reality to play with.

Good point. I'll amend my statement to say that you just can't treat the fact that it's a dagger as insignificant. That dagger is a gift and there must be a point of view about the person and the dagger should play into that point of view. Like maybe "you keep the daggers so clean and sharp" or whatever. It should just not be a shrug of the shoulders or an insignificant detail.

I must respectfully disagree. The subtlety of NOT mentioning the dagger can be funny if played correctly. It can be just accepted that you are in a scewed reality. For me, that's one of the most fun things about improv: you're not bound by the rules of the "normal" world. The dagger example might be silly, but the concept holds.

When Terp and I were taking the UCB intensive last summer, we locked horns on this subject with our instructor Ari for quite some time. We then did a scene that incorporated this idea and the light went on in Ari's head when he realized what we were talking about.

That isn't to say that ours was the "right" move, but we proved that it wasn't a wrong one, either.

[Jastroch]

As the scene continues, Milque keeps saying "fine" and getting more and more annoyed when told to read "Games People Play" and keeps not reading it, in the end it ruins his friendship with Jastroch, who is hurt and baffled by Milque's refusal to read the book. That book means the world to Jastroch, as it changed his life for the better.

In the end, Milque's life is somehow saved by having not read the book. Jastroch is a shambles.

HAH!

[illades]

I agree with this for the most part... however...

There is something to be said for the approach of accepting the dagger as real (forgetting about the game of heightening the weapon/tool). It's an absurdist approach, yes, but as long as it's played straight and not just to get a laugh then that's a fun alternate reality to play with.

Good point. I'll amend my statement to say that you just can't treat the fact that it's a dagger as insignificant. That dagger is a gift and there must be a point of view about the person and the dagger should play into that point of view. Like maybe "you keep the daggers so clean and sharp" or whatever. It should just not be a shrug of the shoulders or an insignificant detail.

I must respectfully disagree. The subtlety of NOT mentioning the dagger can be funny if played correctly. It can be just accepted that you are in a scewed reality. For me, that's one of the most fun things about improv: you're not bound by the rules of the "normal" world. The dagger example might be silly, but the concept holds.

When Terp and I were taking the UCB intensive last summer, we locked horns on this subject with our instructor Ari for quite some time. We then did a scene that incorporated this idea and the light went on in Ari's head when he realized what we were talking about.

That isn't to say that ours was the "right" move, but we proved that it wasn't a wrong one, either.

I don't believe there are necessarily a "right" or "wrong" move in each scene (each scene has an infinity of possible good moves), but I do believe that in some way, the gifts given are more useful when used in some way. So if the choice is to treat the dagger as normal, then I think the job of the improvisor is to start to build a world in which we say "if this is normal, what else is normal in this world." Then that becomes the game. If the fact of the dagger never leads to anything, then it's a waste of a dagger. The scene around it might be fine and so forth, but you're wasting a perfectly good dagger. If the choice is to make the dagger perfectly normal in that world, then it has to be a choice and from that we should be extrapolating other normal things in that world. I do think it's our job to build on that kind of information.

We are not bound by the rules of the normal world, you are right. And part of the fun of improv is stretching that. But we are always working in relation to the rules of our real world, and when those rules are stretched or violated, everything around it must be that much more believable. The walls might be elastic, but then that elasticity must be 10 times more commited to our world's rules of elasticity. The more we make those aspects believable, the more we are able to believe the aspects that don't conform to the real world as we know it. I don't think we can just create a world with no rules and no relation to our own and keep it interesting or relate to it.

The dagger may be incidental and normal to the world we are creating. I'll grant you that we can play it that way. But it should not be incidental to the way we are approaching the scene, as improvisors. It must be a sort of focal point from which we build a world in which this sort of thing is normal.

[York99]

Good point. I'll amend my statement to say that you just can't treat the fact that it's a dagger as insignificant. That dagger is a gift and there must be a point of view about the person and the dagger should play into that point of view. Like maybe "you keep the daggers so clean and sharp" or whatever. It should just not be a shrug of the shoulders or an insignificant detail.

I must respectfully disagree. The subtlety of NOT mentioning the dagger can be funny if played correctly. It can be just accepted that you are in a scewed reality. For me, that's one of the most fun things about improv: you're not bound by the rules of the "normal" world. The dagger example might be silly, but the concept holds.

When Terp and I were taking the UCB intensive last summer, we locked horns on this subject with our instructor Ari for quite some time. We then did a scene that incorporated this idea and the light went on in Ari's head when he realized what we were talking about.

That isn't to say that ours was the "right" move, but we proved that it wasn't a wrong one, either.

I don't believe there are necessarily a "right" or "wrong" move in each scene (each scene has an infinity of possible good moves), but I do believe that in some way, the gifts given are more useful when used in some way. So if the choice is to treat the dagger as normal, then I think the job of the improvisor is to start to build a world in which we say "if this is normal, what else is normal in this world." Then that becomes the game. If the fact of the dagger never leads to anything, then it's a waste of a dagger. The scene around it might be fine and so forth, but you're wasting a perfectly good dagger. If the choice is to make the dagger perfectly normal in that world, then it has to be a choice and from that we should be extrapolating other normal things in that world. I do think it's our job to build on that kind of information.

We are not bound by the rules of the normal world, you are right. And part of the fun of improv is stretching that. But we are always working in relation to the rules of our real world, and when those rules are stretched or violated, everything around it must be that much more believable. The walls might be elastic, but then that elasticity must be 10 times more commited to our world's rules of elasticity. The more we make those aspects believable, the more we are able to believe the aspects that don't conform to the real world as we know it. I don't think we can just create a world with no rules and no relation to our own and keep it interesting or relate to it.

The dagger may be incidental and normal to the world we are creating. I'll grant you that we can play it that way. But it should not be incidental to the way we are approaching the scene, as improvisors. It must be a sort of focal point from which we build a world in which this sort of thing is normal.

Perhaps true, but without knowing you, I have to assume that you are glue. Knowing myself, I am sure that I am rubber. I am sure the clash of this situation comes to a conclusion logical to all.

[illades]

I must respectfully disagree. The subtlety of NOT mentioning the dagger can be funny if played correctly. It can be just accepted that you are in a scewed reality. For me, that's one of the most fun things about improv: you're not bound by the rules of the "normal" world. The dagger example might be silly, but the concept holds.

When Terp and I were taking the UCB intensive last summer, we locked horns on this subject with our instructor Ari for quite some time. We then did a scene that incorporated this idea and the light went on in Ari's head when he realized what we were talking about.

That isn't to say that ours was the "right" move, but we proved that it wasn't a wrong one, either.

I don't believe there are necessarily a "right" or "wrong" move in each scene (each scene has an infinity of possible good moves), but I do believe that in some way, the gifts given are more useful when used in some way. So if the choice is to treat the dagger as normal, then I think the job of the improvisor is to start to build a world in which we say "if this is normal, what else is normal in this world." Then that becomes the game. If the fact of the dagger never leads to anything, then it's a waste of a dagger. The scene around it might be fine and so forth, but you're wasting a perfectly good dagger. If the choice is to make the dagger perfectly normal in that world, then it has to be a choice and from that we should be extrapolating other normal things in that world. I do think it's our job to build on that kind of information.

We are not bound by the rules of the normal world, you are right. And part of the fun of improv is stretching that. But we are always working in relation to the rules of our real world, and when those rules are stretched or violated, everything around it must be that much more believable. The walls might be elastic, but then that elasticity must be 10 times more commited to our world's rules of elasticity. The more we make those aspects believable, the more we are able to believe the aspects that don't conform to the real world as we know it. I don't think we can just create a world with no rules and no relation to our own and keep it interesting or relate to it.

The dagger may be incidental and normal to the world we are creating. I'll grant you that we can play it that way. But it should not be incidental to the way we are approaching the scene, as improvisors. It must be a sort of focal point from which we build a world in which this sort of thing is normal.

Perhaps true, but without knowing you, I have to assume that you are glue. Knowing myself, I am sure that I am rubber. I am sure the clash of this situation comes to a conclusion logical to all.

As long as I can remember, I've felt like I am a glue inside of a rubber's body. I'm finally having the surgery next week. Please keep me in your prayers.

[kbadr]

Lately, I have been a firm believer (if not practitioner) of the idea that every moment being acted out on stage has to be significant. If it's not, why is it happening?

This has little to do with the original point of this thread, but is related to the discussion.