ndscape Archaeology.” Prior to starting a non-invasive survey, consider: survey objectives, archaeological questions, previously remotely sensed evidence and results, current land-use, former land-use, underlying solid and drift geology, other local geomorphological and topographic factors, degree of access to the land, time, money, personnel, and equipment available for the survey.
Depending on how the synthetic world is constructed and what it allows players to do, it can be possible to conduct a variety of remote sensing tasks. For example, in No Man’s Sky, it is possible to orbit planets like a satellite prior to penetrating atmospheric cover for high-altitude overflight, followed by high- or low-speed travel a few meters above the deck, giving the surveyer different kinds of information about what’s on the surface of the landscape, and if there are any patterns to be observed. Once on the ground with the proper tool equipped, one can conduct a rudimentary form of remote sensing, which produces icons showing players where to dig, and occasionally revealing underground caverns and other geologic formations. Each synthetic world has its own rules of engagement, which must be followed by players in order to successfully survey these landscapes. Depending on the hardware and platform used to host these worlds, however, it may be possible to create modifications (mods) of tools and other equipment, which allows for bending the rules of a world in order to conduct aerial imagery or remote sensing. This raises ethical questions about whether modifying a world affects how archaeologists see the world, and how non-human agents operate within that world once it has been changed from its original state. Mods inject an additional level of complexity into a synthetic world, which might have unexpected/unintended results. At the same time, however, the archaeologist might be able to create a more useful digital toolkit for exploring these digital built environments, instead of relying on more traditional methods that might not be the best-suited for the task. To mod or not to mod recalls the decision to dig or not to dig, to use an invasive approach on the landscape in order to retrieve information about it.
Throughout this post, you have likely been thinking about landscapes in games such as the ones featured in Elder Scrolls, Dragon Age, World of Warcraft synthetic worlds or similar, landscapes that are fantastical yet feel real containing mountains, trees, lakes, things anyone would consider to be part of the landscape. I propose, though, that in order to have a landscape archaeology of digital games and other synthetic worlds, that the archaeologist must apply definitions and methods to any game or world, not just those that are facsimiles of recognizable natural environments.
Every game is a landscape. There is an architecture of space on the plateau of the screen, which can be measured and engaged with, that utilizes time and location in order to function. Every definition, every principle of landscape archaeology applies to games specifically, and more generally to software—anything with a graphical user interface (GUI). We are working on a micro-scale, but it is easy to tell when an application’s GUI nudges users down a path of activity, reacts to user-agency, offers up artifacts (glitches/bugs), and is the subject of communities and cultures (e.g., Apple v. Microsoft). Most of us belong to at least one digital tribe, and we interact with that software as an indigenous population, as developers, or as users who made their pilgrimage late.
One final thought: all of the above about conducting landscape archaeology (or archaeology of any kind) within a synthetic world might sound daft, especially when we know that these are all designed environments. Think of these, however, as a proving ground for ideas on method and theory, testing on software we know that is well documented. I predict that by 2020 we will finally see video games set in completely procedurally generated worlds where the cultures that players encounter have 