@night-dreamers I wonder if you missed the point of my article. I agree completely that Ninja Gaiden is tough but not cheap. If it were cheap, it wouldn't be ONE OF MY FAVORITE GAMES OF ALL TIME! :P
- carolynmichelle
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A week ago, the Wall Street Journal posted an excerpt from author and Yale law professor Amy Chua's new book about her experiences as a parent. Her description of her approach to parenting raised quite a stir, provoking all kinds of discussions and reactions. The article is well worth reading in its entirety, and I urge you to keep an open mind and not jump to conclusions about Chua; this excerpt paints a quite rigid picture but Chua has said that the full book reveals things to be more complex, so I'm in no way judging her. I just found the excerpt a fascinating glimpse at an approach to parenting that differs tremendously from the approach my own parents took. I can't imagine how different my life would be today, for instance, if my parents had forbidden me, as Chua forbade her daughters, from playing video games.
But here's the concept from the excerpt that I want to focus on. At one point, Chua says: "What Chinese parents understand is that nothing is fun until you're good at it." I think there's a lot of truth to this.
One segment deals with Chua trying to get her daughter Lulu to master a very difficult piece of music for a piano recital.
Back at the piano, Lulu made me pay. She punched, thrashed and kicked. She grabbed the music score and tore it to shreds. I taped the score back together and encased it in a plastic shield so that it could never be destroyed again. Then I hauled Lulu's dollhouse to the car and told her I'd donate it to the Salvation Army piece by piece if she didn't have "The Little White Donkey" perfect by the next day. When Lulu said, "I thought you were going to the Salvation Army, why are you still here?" I threatened her with no lunch, no dinner, no Christmas or Hanukkah presents, no birthday parties for two, three, four years. When she still kept playing it wrong, I told her she was purposely working herself into a frenzy because she was secretly afraid she couldn't do it. I told her to stop being lazy, cowardly, self-indulgent and pathetic.
I used every weapon and tactic I could think of. We worked right through dinner into the night, and I wouldn't let Lulu get up, not for water, not even to go to the bathroom. The house became a war zone, and I lost my voice yelling, but still there seemed to be only negative progress, and even I began to have doubts.
Then, out of the blue, Lulu did it. Her hands suddenly came together—her right and left hands each doing their own imperturbable thing—just like that.
Lulu realized it the same time I did. I held my breath. She tried it tentatively again. Then she played it more confidently and faster, and still the rhythm held. A moment later, she was beaming.
"Mommy, look—it's easy!" After that, she wanted to play the piece over and over and wouldn't leave the piano.
I think I understand to some degree the joy that Chua's daughter Lulu was experiencing in those moments when she finally mastered that piece of music, when what previously seemed impossible suddenly became as easy as second nature. And perhaps the most common source of that feeling in my experience has been video games.
I remember reading Greg Kasavin's review of the 2004 action classic Ninja Gaiden. It informs you that this is one tough game, but it rightfully made the game sound so exceptional that I felt I had to play it.
And I hated it. Playing it was painful for me because I just kept getting killed over and over again. The skills necessary to handle the game's fighting system eluded me completely; I knew there was an incredible game buried in Ninja Gaiden, but I just wasn't nearly good enough to enjoy it. I tried and tried and tried to get better, but it was no use, and eventually it seemed hopeless. I just didn't have what it takes, I thought, and I gave up in frustration.

My Ryu often found himself in situations like this one.
Then, a year and a half later, Ninja Gaiden Black--an enhanced version of the previous year's game--came out, and I again read about what an extraordinary game Ninja Gaiden was, which again filled me with the urge to play it.
Again, I spent hours with the game, and again, poor Ryu suffered countless deaths at the hands of his enemies. My heart sank in despair. I just didn't have what it took to be a great ninja, and my experience of the game remained a painful one.
Then, suddenly, something clicked. Without even consciously being aware of how I got better, I got better. Much, much better. I got a handle on the game's timing. My hands suddenly knew how to perform powerful combos, how to guard and evade enemy attacks, and from then on, while the game remained a satisfying challenge, I felt unstoppable. And it was incredible. I couldn't stop playing. Discovering skills in myself that I previously thought nonexistent, mastering something that previously felt absolutely impossible, was tremendously rewarding, and I was finally able to understand what an extraordinary game Ninja Gaiden is. It's now one of my favorite games of all time. And if it hadn't been as complex as challenging as it was, if I hadn't needed to work very hard to master it, I know that my ultimate success wouldn't have been nearly so enjoyable. It was a good thing, in the end, that the game had been so hard on me, that it had demanded so much of me.
Now, of course, I want to clearly state that I'm not saying that the experience of confronting and ultimately mastering a game that is at first extremely diffiicult for you is the same as a parent relentlessly challenging you and forcing you to master something incredibly difficult. I just think that the rewarding feeling that comes with finally getting better at a game that initially seems impossible is perhaps comparable to the feeling that comes with mastering any other initially incredibly challenging process, and that when you're good at it, something that previously was painful can suddenly become very enjoyable. I think it's very rare for game designers to find just that right degree of challenge that can ultimately lead to this incredible feeling, and when they do, it's something special.
Have you had any similar experiences with games that initially struck you as way too difficult, but that eventually became much easier for you? Or on the flipside of that, are there games that other people really seem to love that perhaps you don't enjoy as much because you're not very good at them? (I do. The skills necessary to be really good at real-time strategy games have always eluded me, and I've long hoped to get better at them so that I can enjoy and appreciate that genre more.)
I don't know if "nothing is fun until you're good at it," but I do believe that being good at something can make it a lot more fun.
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Greg Kasavin's video review of Ninja Gaiden:



