Circle Games

post by sarahconstantin · 2019-06-06T16:40:00.596Z · score: 57 (15 votes) · LW · GW · 4 comments

I may be reinventing a known thing in child development or psychology here, but bear with me.

The simplest games I see babies play — games simple enough that cats and dogs can play them too — are what I’d call “circle games.”

Think of the game of “fetch”.  I throw the ball, Rover runs and brings it back, and then we repeat, ad infinitum.  (Or, the baby version: baby throws the item out of the stroller, I pick it up, and then we repeat.)

Or, “peek-a-boo.” I hide, I re-emerge, baby laughs, repeat.

My son is also fond of “open the door, close the door, repeat”, or “open the drawer, close the drawer, repeat”, which are solo circle games, and “together/apart”, where he pushes my hands together and apart and repeats, and of course being picked up and put down repeatedly.

A lot of toys are effectively solo circle games in physical form.  The jack-in-the-box: “push a button, out pops something! close the box, start again.” Fidget toys with buttons and switches to flip: “push the button, get a satisfying click, repeat.”

It’s obvious, observing a small child, that the purpose of these “games” is learning.  And, in particular, learning cause and effect.  What do you learn by opening and closing a door? Why, how to open and close doors; or, phrased a different way, “when I pull the door this way, it opens; when I push it that way, it closes.” Playing fetch or catch teaches you about how objects move when dropped or thrown.  Playing with button-pushing or latch-turning toys teaches you how to handle the buttons, keys, switches, and handles that are ubiquitous in our built environment.

But what about peek-a-boo? What are you “learning” from that? (It’s a myth that babies enjoy it because they don’t have object permanence; babies get object permanence by 3 months, but enjoy peek-a-boo long after that.) My guess is that peek-a-boo trains something like “when I make eye contact I get smiles and positive attention” or “grownups go away and then come back and are happy to see me.” It’s social learning.

It’s important for children to learn, generally, “when I act, the people around me react.” This gives them social efficacy (“I can achieve goals through interaction with other people”), access to social incentives (“people respond positively when I do this, and negativey when I do that”), and a sense of social significance (“people care enough about me to respond to my actions.”) Attachment psychology argues that when babies and toddlers don’t have any adults around who respond to their behavior, their social development goes awry — neglected children can be extremely fearful, aggressive, or checked-out, missing basic abilities in interacting positively with others.

It’s clear just from observation that the social game of interaction — “I make a sound, you make a sound back” — is learned before verbal speech.  Preverbal babies can even execute quite sophisticated interaction patterns, like making the tonal pattern of a question followed by an answering statement.  This too is a circle game.

The baby’s fascination with circle games completely belies the popular notion that drill is an intrinsically unpleasant way to learn. Repetition isn’t boring to babies who are in the process of mastering a skill. They beg for repetition.

My personal speculation is that the “craving for drill”, especially in motor learning, is a basal ganglia thing; witness how abnormalities in the ganglia are associated with disorders like OCD and Tourette’s, which involve compulsive repetition of motor activities; or how some dopaminergic drugs given to Parkinsonian patients cause compulsions to do motor activities like lining up small objects or hand-crafts. Introspectively, a “gear can engage” if I get sufficiently fascinated with something and I’ll crave repetition — e.g. craving to listen to a song on repeat until I’ve memorized it, craving to get the hang of a particular tricky measure on the piano — but there’s no guarantee that the gear will engage just because I observe that it would be a good idea to master a particular skill.

I also think that some kinds of social interaction among adults are effectively circle games.

Argument or fighting, in its simplest form, is a circle game: “I say Yes, you say No, repeat!” Of course, sophisticated arguments go beyond this; each player’s “turn” should contribute new information to a logical structure. But many arguments in practice are not much more sophisticated than “Yes, No, repeat (with variations).”  And even intellectually rigorous and civil arguments usually share the basic turn-taking adversarial structure.

Now, if the purpose of circle games is to learn a cause-and-effect relationship, what are we learning from adversarial games?

Keep in mind that adversarial play — “you try to do a thing, I try to stop you” — kicks in very early and (I think) cross-culturally. It certainly exists across species; puppies do it.

Almost tautologically, adversarial play teaches resistance.  When you push on others, others push back; when others push on you, you push back.

War, in the sense we know it today, may not be a human universal, and certainly isn’t a mammalian universal; but resistance seems to be an inherent feature of social interaction between any beings whose interests are imperfectly aligned.

A lot of social behaviors generally considered maladaptive look like adversarial circle games. Getting sucked into repetitive arguments? That’s a circle game. Falling into romantic patterns like “you want to get closer to me, I pull away, repeat”? Circle game.  Being shocking or reckless to get attention? Circle game.

The frame where circle games are for learning suggests that people do these things because they feel like they need more practice learning the lesson.  Maybe people who are very combative feel, on some level, that they need to “get the hang of” pushing back against social resistance, or conversely, learning how not to do things that people will react badly to.  It’s unsatisfying to feel like a ghost, moving through the world but not getting any feedback one way or another. Maybe when people crave interaction, they’re literally craving training data.

If you always do A, and always get response B, and you keep wanting to repeat that game, for much longer than is “normal”, then a couple things might be happening:

These seem like more general explanations of how to break down when repetition will seem “boring” vs. “fascinating” to different people or in different contexts.


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comment by quanticle · 2019-06-09T18:36:58.805Z · score: 12 (3 votes) · LW · GW

The baby’s fascination with circle games completely belies the popular notion that drill is an intrinsically unpleasant way to learn. Repetition isn’t boring to babies who are in the process of mastering a skill. They beg for repetition.

I disagree with the implication there that drill is repetition. Drill, to me, is repetition with predictable results. If I'm doing the same thing over and over again, and I'm getting exactly what I expect each time, that's a drill. The sort of entertaining repetition you're pointing at here, is something where I don't necessarily know what to expect every time I take an action.

A good contrast is painting a deck versus playing a slot machine. They're both extremely repetitive actions. Heck, even the physical movements in each are similar (if anything, deck painting involves less repetitive movement than playing a slot machine). Yet, we see people getting addicted to playing slot machines. I've never heard of anyone getting addicted to deck painting. The difference is that deck painting is pretty predictable. Dip paint in paintbrush, apply paint to deck, and there's paint on the deck, exactly as you'd expect. A slot machine, on the other hand, is geared toward unpredictability. You pull the lever, and you don't know what's going to happen when the reels stop. Will you get the jackpot? A lesser prize? Nothing at all? The sorts of circle games that babies enjoy are closer (from the perspective of the baby) to a slot machine than to deck painting.

For example, let's look at the Jack in the Box. It's predictable and boring to an adult. An adult (or even an older child) will pretty quickly catch on on the pattern that the box pops open after a number of turns or on a particular musical note ("Pop goes the weasel," etc.). However, to a child, especially to a child that's still grappling with the concept of cause and effect, a Jack in the Box is endlessly fascinating. Here's a mechanism, and when I manipulate the mechanism, something seemingly entirely unrelated happens?! How? Why?

Peek-a-boo is similar to that as well. Yes, the child might know that you're still there. But I'm willing to bet that you don't make exactly the same expression when you open your hands and reveal your face each and every time. It's the variety of facial expressions, and the effort required to predict them that provides the unpredictability that transforms peek-a-boo from a drill into a game.

comment by Slider · 2019-06-07T02:51:51.773Z · score: 4 (3 votes) · LW · GW

The concept of a core game loop seems to point to similar phenomenon when explictly setting up games.

comment by TheSkeward · 2019-06-07T16:49:33.613Z · score: 3 (2 votes) · LW · GW

Yes, that was my thought precisely. Which of those explanations might be useful in interpreting the drives of, for instance, people addicted to World of Warcraft?

comment by Aaron Teetor (aaron-teetor) · 2019-06-07T18:05:57.440Z · score: 4 (3 votes) · LW · GW

One interesting thing with WoW, or at least pre-cata WoW, is that the longer you play the higher amount of social interaction is needed. Up to level 15 you play almost completely alone. Then you start being pushed into meeting some randos; maybe having joined one of their guilds by 30. By 50 you're playing mostly with the same people, and by 60 you look forward to scheduled interactions with those people one to five times a week.

I haven't played the new versions, but my impression as to why the recent versions are less addictive:

1) More time with randos, less with friends. No ramp up into the parts that require social ties so it's harder to get over that hump.

2) More randomization of rewards leads to less strong feedback loop of "work hard -> get stronger"

3) Homogenization of rewards and fewer social ties lead to less strong feedback loop of "get stronger -> get prestige"

I view the social connections and the ability for anyone to feel prestigious with relatively simple work as a core part of the addictiveness.