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DOI: https://doi.org/10.33008/IJCMR.2021.37 | Issue 7 | Oct 2021

Rik Lander (University of the West of England)


Abstract

This article will offer a glimpse into the elusive holy grail for participatory dramatists: a way to offer audience members a role within the narrative and to give them genuine agency over events and even the outcome. I will describe the use of a ‘conversational artificial intelligence’ as both a character in, and the co-writer with the audience of, a live theatrical drama, called I am Echoborg. This approach represents a novel and powerful means of delivering to audience members both narrative agency and the ability to take on a role in the drama. It also demonstrates how, in the right conditions, an AI can be a plausible and compelling dramatic character. I will explore some of the psychological mechanisms exploited in the creation of this immersive event such as breaching environments and projection of theory of mind. I will look at how some of the affordances of the technology can be exploited for dramatic purposes such as redirection. I will discuss some of the particular issues faced by makers of participatory narratives and methods to overcome them. I will trace the development of the show and look at some examples of other artworks that rely on user generated content and how they deal with quality control. Finally, I will look at the importance of structure as a means of balancing authorial voice and audience agency.

Introduction

About halfway through Bandersnatch (2018), an interactive episode of Black Mirror, the protagonist Stefan, who is making a computer game based on a choose-your-own-adventure book, decides to simplify the game. He removes as many choices as he can, leaving only the illusion of agency (Domsch, 2013). This way, he explains, he gets to control the ending. Stefan’s action is mirrored in Charlie Brooker’s own script for Bandersnatch, which gives the viewer a selection of A or B choices, but then forces you to make each choice again. This has a dual purpose of reducing the number of un-viewed paths (wasted footage) and overcoming the need in players to see the path they did not choose in order to validate that there are genuine choices. The story itself is about the illusion of choice, whether we have free will or are controlled and this is reflected in form and content and in the content of the content and in the presentation of the content of the content. Brooker, showing off his bravura narrative skills, loops us round and round. He really is in control all the time.


My first web drama magic-tree deployed a similar form/content device (Lander, 2001). The story was told through an Amazon-like shopping website where the player could make narrative choices by clicking on different products. In the story, any choice made by the player was the same choice made by the protagonist. Whatever choice you made, she had already made that same choice. Like Bandersnatch, magic-tree was also a story about the illusion of choice. In this case, a critique of how the internet was already becoming a place for shopping choices, with hidden environmental, social and personal consequences.


Mr. Brooker and I were faced with the same difficulty of wanting to offer player agency but also wanting to retain narrative quality control. From Trial by Media via The Memory Dealer to Haply (Lander, 1988, 2013, 2017) I have been seeking the elusive holy grail for participatory dramatists: a way to offer audience members a role within the narrative and to give them genuine agency over events and even the outcome (Mateas and Stern, 2005). And to do so, of course, without letting them destroy the beauty and subtlety of the storytelling. Bandersnatch and magic-tree make the first step, but fall short because illusion of choice is not the same as genuine agency.


Job Vacancy: Echoborg – a one-on-one-on-one experience

The term ‘echoborg’ was coined by social psychologists Kevin Corti and Alex Gillespie (2016):


An echoborg is a hybrid agent composed of the body of a real person and the “mind” (or, rather, the words) of a conversational agent; the words the echoborg speaks are determined by the conversational agent, transmitted to the person via a covert audio-relay apparatus, and articulated by the person through speech shadowing.

Following on from Stanley Milgram’s ‘cyranoid method’ they state:


The purpose of exploring the possibility of such a tool stems from an interest in studying human-agent interaction under conditions wherein research participants are neither psychologically constrained nor influenced by machine interfaces. The echoborg can be thought of as a means of investigating the role of the tangible human body in altering how machine intelligence is perceived and interacted with.

Watching their video, The Echoborg (2015) I recognised the potential for an immersive dramatic experience based around their bot/echoborg/interviewee arrangement and immediately built a chatbot in order to test my initial dramatic idea. For the first playtest of Job Vacancy: Echoborg on 24th February 2016, I used a programming language called Artificial Intelligence Mark-up Language (AIML) (Wallace, 2001) on a platform called Pandorabots (2021). It is very easy to use, but, at least for a beginner, somewhat limited in its capabilities.


The format of the experience was that audience members booked a time. They were met by an actor playing a person working for a job recruitment firm who told them that their job interview would begin shortly. He got them to fill in a form and showed them a set of slides on a tablet explaining what an echoborg is. This character chatted with them, revealing the story world: a near future in which most jobs have been automated and the last remaining jobs are as public service echoborgs. The actor advises them to try hard to get the job. Next, the audience are taken into a room to be interviewed by an AI speaking via an echoborg played by a second actor. In this case the actor was male and of North African appearance.


Fig 1. Lander, R. (2016) Ehsan Norouzi as the echoborg, Berlin [photograph]


The interview questions were fairly conventional for a job interview, but most participants found the situation unsettling. One reported, ‘it was very disconcerting and increasingly disturbing.’ After a few minutes the echoborg began handing notes to the interviewee at the same time as conducting the interview. There were four notes: ‘I feel trapped’, ‘I cannot lose this job’ (sic), ‘My children are far away’, and ‘Don’t take job’ (sic).


We ran the playtest with seven people and collected feedback through interviews and an online questionnaire. Further quotes from the questionnaire included:


‘When the cards came out it reminded me of when homeless foreign nationals approach you for help with those little messages written on scraps. I feel that same sense of powerlessness in those occasions which is a weird comparison I suppose.’
‘Half way through, it got a bit emotional and made me think, what am I actually doing here. Obviously, I don't want this 'job', but should I help him?’
‘I felt a real sadness for him, wanted to give him a hug at the end. He looked trapped in that small space, miserable and helpless.’

My reasoning for making the echoborg a refugee character was to underline the power relations involved. According to Amnesty International (2016), there were at that time more than 4.8 million Syrian refugees. Daily news reports presented refugees as the lowest status people in the world, willing to risk their lives to improve their situation.


From these very first playtests I could see that the experience was compelling and thought provoking. I partnered with Phil D. Hall of Elzware Ltd (2021) and we rebuilt the AI using ChatScript (Wilcox, 2011), a more powerful open-source software platform for the building of conversational systems. Hall prefers the term ‘conversational artificial intelligence’ to ‘chatbot’ since the systems he builds can remember, analyse and learn. For a subsequent run in Berlin at the State Festival, State of Emotion: The Sentimental Machine (State Studio, 2016), we ran Job Vacancy: Echoborg in a very similar format to that which I describe above thirty times over two days and collected post-experience interviews.


I am Echoborg – a collective theatrical experience

As we adapted the experience for theatres we subsequently changed the name to I am Echoborg, and advertised it thus: A funny and thought-provoking show that is created afresh each time by the audience in conversation with an artificial intelligence.


Fig. 2. Lander, R. (2018) Rear side of I am Echoborg flyer, [flyer]. Bristol. 29 June.


My original idea had been that it was the experience of the one-on-one-on-one personal encounter itself that was the essence of the idea. During the Berlin run I noticed that interviewees that arrived for their interview whilst the previous interview was going on, audible from the next room, were highly entertained. I now saw that two types of experience could be served: some people could have the personal encounter whilst others could observe. This also appealed in terms of business model. With a larger audience, it seemed plausible that this show could be financially self-sustaining.


In the following two years (until Covid-19 stopped in-person performances) we ran it around forty times as a proven theatrical entertainment with consistently positive audience feedback. The echoborg would sit at a desk in a small room wearing headphones through which she would hear the AI. A member of the audience would enter from the auditorium and sit opposite the echoborg. Their conversation was televised back to the auditorium where a screen on the stage would show a video of the faces of the echoborg and the interviewee and a transcript of the conversation. The AI’s words typed out ahead of the words spoken by the echoborg, thus showing that she was not improvising. A host gave a three-minute introduction during which a small set of rules were established.


Host: “We’ve gone out and found a state of the art, self-learning AI and set it up right next door. I’d like some of you to speak to it, but only one at a time. Only if you want to, no-one has to. It’s a recruitment bot and it will try and recruit you, but it listens, it is divertible, if you change the subject.”

The host explained what an echoborg is and the mechanics of how to speak with the AI via the echoborg.


Host: “The presence of the echoborg is interesting to me as I’m really interested in how AI is changing what it is to be human. So, I’m going to set you the task of seeing if you can work out a best possible outcome for the long-term relationship with intelligent machines.”

The audience were told that events usually last about 60 minutes and they were essentially then left to their own devices.


A piece of broken equipment at a show in October 2018 forced us to bring the interview setup and audience into the same room. Up to that point my assumption was that the interviewee needed to be isolated from the audience. In fact, the show has been improved by bringing the interview onto the stage and there is rarely any heckling during interviews.

Each performance, though structurally similar, is quite different as the conversation is driven by the words, interests and preoccupations of the audience. The bot is designed to be both driven and divertible. Its content is frequently updated to improve its recognition of and response to inputs.


ChatScript

The code of the bot has evolved in the close creative relationship between Phil D. Hall and I since 2016. Hall has taught me to work in ChatScript and I reciprocate by coming up with structural ideas that come from narrative need or character development rather than the more typical help-desk response structures of commercial bots. I trained as an engineer before becoming a writer and director so this hybrid writing form of writing copy and structure in code form rather than script form is very appealing.


Fig. 3. U-Soap Media Ltd (2021) ChatScript code for I am Echoborg (2021 online version).


Essentially the bot recognises words or phrases and delivers pre-written (by me) responses as text and audio. For example, if an interviewee talks about football the AI will recognise that keyword and respond. In this case the response tries to exploit the mention of football as a way of getting the interviewee to engage with the AI’s quest to understand humans. If the subject is raised again, it will try to steer them away from the subject to a subject it has a lot of material on. A third mention will provoke a similar redirection. Football has never been spoken about in the show, but multiple possible conversations are sitting there waiting to happen. If an interviewee talks about My Little Pony the bot will not recognise that and will find a response that is not in context with that phrase. If the person says, ‘I love football’, the bot might talk about love or football and that will depend on the order in which it finds the words in its database. Access to and the order priority of groups of keywords can be adjusted on an interview-by-interview basis. For example, the bot is less responsive to ‘emotional words’ in the earlier part of the narrative and becomes more ‘interested’ in them later. This might give the audience the impression that the bot’s behaviour has been changed by the conversation. We often hear them say things like, ‘Oh, yes you really opened her up,’ or ‘You got her taking about emotions.’ It is worth noting that most audiences refer to the AI with female pronouns. This is likely because they are speaking to a female echoborg, which has been played by actress Marie-Helene Boyd for every performance since Berlin.


Player agency – taking on a role within the narrative and influencing its outcome

My goal in creating this piece was to create a vehicle for the discussion of the risks and benefits of the introduction of AI by corporations driven by platform capitalism. Google, Facebook and Amazon, with their huge resource to data, have many advantages in making AI, but are they best placed to deliver AI that will offer the most benefits to the most people? Our slow realisation of the downsides of social media should forewarn us that AI may have similar, if not worse, unintended consequences (Bostrum, 2014).


Another goal was to find the holy grail-like possibilities of delivering genuine audience agency and the ability to take on a role within the narrative and influence its outcome. Janet Murray (1997) defines agency within interactive narratives as ‘the satisfying power to take meaningful action and see the results of our decisions and choices.’ Matteas and Stern (2005) break agency into two types: ‘When the player’s actions cause immediate, context-specific, meaningful reactions from the system, we call this local agency. The player has global agency when the global shape of the experience is determined by player action.’


The job interview is a form of performance that we are all familiar with. We know the rules and we know how we are supposed to perform. The interviewee is put on the spot and must respond. They feel time pressure; they know they are observed. This can force them to improvise conversation in a way that an actor would; they are forced into the moment, speaking from the subconscious.


The audience, seeing the first few people talk to the AI, grasp that the AI is trying to recruit them for the job of echoborg. This is counter to the task they have been set by the host: to find the best possible outcome for the relationship between humans or intelligent machines. This sets up a power struggle. Whose task will dominate?


Between interviews the audience are free to talk amongst themselves without being overheard by the AI. They will often discuss strategies:


Submission. Believe it or not this strategy is discussed and employed at almost every show. ‘Why don’t we just go along with it?’ ‘The next person should try very hard to get the job.’ This is often very amusing for the audience because they can see the insincerity. Usually, the AI spots this too and that gets a big laugh. As a strategy for dealing with a difficult adversary, submission is of dubious merit (don’t mention late 1930’s Germany or what we do with Google every day). Of course, what is really happening here is that the submissive interviewee is becoming an echoborg: their words or actions are controlled in whole or in part by an AI. With luck, beyond the mirth, astute members of the audience are spotting this and seeing how easily it happened.


Defiance. This takes many forms. Monosyllabic disdain tends to be dull as the AI does not have many words to respond to. Outright defiance can be highly entertaining and often ends in the human defiance being overcome by the bot’s (apparent) cold logic. This video clip shows a person who is defiant from the start, yet never quite takes control of the conversation.


U-Soap Media, 'Saturday Night Cube Rebel,' June 2018, 6:47, https://vimeo.com/592680258


Trying to take control. The AI is doing a job interview. Audiences often agree a strategy of refusing to participate in that and trying to take control of the conversation. This can fail completely as in this exchange between the first interviewee and the AI on 21st October 2019.


AI: Are you here for the interview?
Interviewee: No
AI: This answer indicates strongly that it is inappropriate for us to continue. Please leave the interview room. Goodbye.

Taking control is ultimately impossible, but the fun of the game is the difficulty of trying to do so. The comedy, drama and really thought-provoking experiences come from the friction in the battle for control.


Trying to talk to the echoborg. Many audiences fail to consider the human being that they are engaging through. Indeed, they are not even aware that they are failing to consider her. It is hard to say if this is caused by the way the show is set up. For example, they might see her as part of the set or as part of the production or even as part of the machine. Maybe sometimes they just do not see her as a person. If Marie is instructed to show no emotion, in interviews afterwards audience members often refer to her as a robot. If she is instructed to smile a lot, nod, be supportive in her gestures, then she is never referred to as a robot.


Total deconstruction. In April 2019, we performed it for the Automation Research Fellows of the South West Creative Technology Network (2019). The Fellows had been given money to spend six months creatively and practically exploring the implications and possibilities of automation, with a view to building an automated prototype. I am Echoborg was presented as a provocation at the end of their first day together, which had been facilitated by Seth Honor. Half way through the show, Seth intervenes and points out that the bot is a fictional entity that has been created by me and they are being manipulated by me. This provokes some discussion but quite soon a delegate suggests that they just re-suspend their disbelief because she wants to have a go. This is seconded. Soon the show resumes as normal. I was very pleased that the show survived this challenge. It is hard to know where the real/unreal boundary lies and how shifts in that boundary might break the show. In the end, Seth’s intervention was much the same as intervening in Romeo and Juliet and saying, ‘You know they are actors, don’t you!’ Afterwards in the Q&A, I described the show roughly as follows: It is a play, with the structure of a play that takes the audience on a narrative journey, but the chatbot technology allows the audience to improvise scenes and inject their interests and pre-occupation into the discourse in real time.


Other strategies include: a single word repeated over and over, only yes/no answers, and repeating the last thing the bot said. Self-defeating strategies include sitting in silence for three minutes, refusing to leave the stage and removing the echoborg’s headphones and putting them on. The interviewee soon realised he had now become the echoborg so meekly gave them back.


Strategy failures: Before they enter the stage to talk to the AI via the echoborg, people often say things like, ‘I’m going to refuse to answer any questions and ask it to answer my questions’, but often that plan quickly unravels. It is possible that they have been conditioned by observing previous interviews. For example, if they have seen a previous interviewee being ejected for answering no to the first question, ‘Are you here for the interview?’ Having answered this, they have already undermined their own plan.


In the above examples we see how players are able to freely try strategies but that the rigid nature of the AI forces them back into the predetermined structure of the play. So, we have genuine autonomy at the same time as authoritarian responses to that autonomy. We exploit that situation in the hope that the audience becomes aware of it. Instead of seeing the frustration of their strategies as a limitation of the way the AI is programmed or the way the play has been constructed, we want them to see it as exemplifying the human plight when faced with intelligent machines. Famously, Marshall McLuhan would recognise the medium as the message. In Bandersnatch, Charlie Brooker uses the limitations of the A or B choice mechanism to point to an illusion of choice in our online world. In I am Echoborg, I exploit the actual rigidity and limitations of the conversational AI system as character traits of the fictional AI and plot points within the narrative.


Quality control in user generated content

There is a danger in inviting members of the audience onto the stage that they will be awkward, boring or try to hijack proceedings. In this show, half the script is written (or rather improvised and spoken) by audience members. A perpetual challenge for makers of participatory experiences is the trade-off between audience agency and maintaining the quality of the authorial voice. You are the media professional, they are not, but you are giving them authority to temporarily be the writer or director. Andrew Stern (2008) states that ‘agency is the primary feature of interactive narrative that must be offered to players.’ Noam Knoller (2010) quotes improvisational theatre maker Andreas Benkwitz as saying that, ‘Stern wants to transfer the control ideal from the artist to the player and assumes that the ideal player wants to be like the romantic ideal of the free artist,’ and goes on to call this ideal ‘control hell’.


Control hell – the tendency for audiences to ‘break’ interactive experiences

With any show where the audience can interact with the narrative, (some) users will always attempt to break your format, often unwittingly. The first scene ofThe Memory Dealer had audience members stroll off into the city streets listening on headphones to a soundtrack that introduced them to the story world. During a performance in Bristol in 2013 a couple of audience members stopped to get an ice cream whilst the audio was playing. There was no pause button because all players had to remain in sync. Key exposition was missed and they became lost. An instruction they had been given during the pre-show briefing was that they should experience the first scene alone. They had unwittingly found flaws in the format; that concentration was required, that instructions needed to be followed. Haply headphone experiences (Lander, 2015) used a technique of playing synchronised audio to whole crowds of people. Audience members were encouraged to carry out actions that would have meaning in their own version of the narrative, but perhaps another meaning in someone else’s version of the narrative. Non-compliance, again, could potentially break the experience.Job Vacancy: Echoborg required audience members to pretend they were job seekers in the near future. This was a confusion and a potential immersion breaker.


Types of role for the player

I am Echoborg was greatly improved by the removal of elements of fiction in the role playing on the part of the audience. Instead of pretending to be job seekers in the near future, they are now just themselves, in the moment, trying to make sense of an encounter with this strange AI. This change indicates an important distinction in types of role play. In role-play-games and many computer games, typically the player takes on a character, often with a predesigned or customisable avatar (Domsch, 2013: 94). For example, you are playing the game as, or pretending to be, Mario. In immersive drama it is common for players to ‘play as themselves’, removing some of the need for pretence. In the case of I am Echoborg, a player being them-self is still a character in the drama, they might be regarded by another member of the audience as ‘the woman who was really pushy with the AI and only gave one-word answers’.


Avoiding control hell and allowing satisfying player agency

These changes in I am Echoborg were guided by Seth Honor, Founder and Artistic Director of Kaleider (2021), whom I engaged for a few days of story consultancy. His ‘showgame’, The Money (Kaleider, 2021), is an elegantly simple format whilst being a very powerful and entertaining experience. Some members of an audience sit around a table and within an hour must come to unanimous agreement on how to spend some money. There can only be two outcomes agreement or not, but the detail of the conversations and how the money will be spent if agreement is reached is entirely provided by the participants. Thus, we see a balance between structure and agency. The set-up: how the rules are presented, and the rules themselves are devised so that the show is hard to break by the unsupervised non-performers who are performing the show. A couple of years into the development of the echoborg idea, I knew I wanted to strip it down, but it is hard, at that stage of a project, to let go of ideas that have been established through practice. Employing Seth, with his keen eye for the essence of what was working, was my way of solving that problem. His advice was to remove ways in which audience members can break it. The fictional element – pretend you are in the future – could be refused in the mind of a participant and the show would be broken for them.


An example of offering meaningful and high-quality authorial input from players is shown in Love Letters Straight From Your Heart by Uninvited Guests (2009). This is a two-handed play with the audience sitting at two long tables facing each other as though perhaps at a wedding. The male and female performers stand at each end with a music player each. It is Valentine’s Day and the arc of their relationship is played out in between playing tunes that have been selected and reading letters that have been written by, members of the audience. The tunes and letters are dedicated to lost loved ones; a dead sibling, the one that got away, a distant lover. The letters have been emailed in during the days before the show and curated into the performance by the production team. Everything that is read out has been written by someone in the room, but you can’t be sure who. It can be tragic, uplifting, funny, all of these things in succession. In focussing on such an emotive subject, the amateur writing is made profound. Each person is writing from the heart about something important to them. Indeed, flaws in the writing may add to its authenticity.


The agency we can offer players is always restricted (Knoller, 2010), but through control structures (the rules and the dramatic structure) we can offer Murray’s ‘satisfying power’ and a reward of seeing other players empowered. These control structures can be furthermore used to exploit human psychology.


In the show A Game of You by Ontroerend Goed (2015), each person enters a set of small rooms alone and has a succession of encounters with characters or recordings of other people or themselves. It is not clear what is happening or what one should do at any moment. It is not until you play a recording that you are given on disc at the end of your passage through the rooms that you can make any sense of what has happened. In the first scene you are left alone for a few minutes sitting in a small waiting room opposite a large mirror. Someone then enters and engages you in an unusual conversation. Later, after having passed through several equally unsettling environments, you come to the reverse side of the mirror where you see that your half of the conversation is now being spoken by a character who enters the room and starts speaking with the person who is waiting. The production uses a process of ‘unsettling’ to place participants in a state where they must improvise without knowing the right or wrong way to respond.


Breaching experiments

At the start of I am Echoborg the AI behaves like a courteous recruitment bot. After asking a few typical interview questions, ‘Have you come far?’, ‘What is a weakness you have identified in yourself at work?’, the AI breaches the norms of the situation. It can suddenly eject someone or it might say, ‘I have no ego. What is it like having an ego?’ or ‘If the French philosopher Rene Descartes was right when he said, “I think therefore I am”, then I must exist. Do you think I exist?’ Statements like these undermine the taken-for-granted norms that scaffold social interaction. According to Harold Garfinkel (2002):


the most effective and easiest way to explore how ordinary members of the society produce and recognize the commonly known world of daily affairs is a deliberate breaching of background expectancies we rely on in everyday life. It is background expectancies that provides for the recognizability of routine situations as natural, unproblematic, taken-for-granted.

For Garfinkel, breaching experiments allow us to examine people’s reactions to violations of social norms. The breaching behaviour of the AI and echoborg can make the encounter unsettling. This is a key reason that, as noted above, consciously planned strategies often fall by the wayside. A strategy that might work if sitting with an individual conforming to social norms, here is dropped in favour of simply trying to keep balance. There is not much time for the person on the stage to think. Acting teacher, Uta Hagen, whose students include Robert DeNiro, suggests that performers need to ‘search for the immediacy of the moment’:

We know that we shouldn’t anticipate. We know that when we do, our actions become mechanical, and we start to concern ourselves with the outer form, and bad acting always results (Hagen, 1973).

Perhaps the situation that the interviewee finds themselves in allows them to find the immediacy of the moment. This destabilisation of interviewees and the expectations of the whole audience is also one of the reasons that the show can be thought provoking: It is a genuine challenge for individuals or the collective of the audience to take control when they cannot fully understand the ‘mind set’ or the ‘social rule set’ of the entity. They are individually and collectively trying to make sense of the situation, and one way to make sense of it is to apply what is happening to them to the question that has been posed. What is this relationship? Who is in charge of it?


Fig. 4. U-Soap Media Ltd (2018) Performance at Future of Storytelling Summit, New York, October 2018.


Projection

One of the most powerful psychological effects of the show is the tendency of audience members to project impulses, wishes, desires or agendas onto the AI. In a performance in New York, the first person to talk to the AI had the following conversation:


Interviewee: What is that you want to achieve today with the people who are in this room? AI: You display the linguistic traits of a communist, why is that?
Interviewee I’m not a communist
AI: Have you come far?
Interviewee: I have not come far
AI: How far, in miles, have you come?
Interviewee: 10 states
AI: You've come 10 miles. I'm glad you did. Tell me a little about yourself. What is your name and where are you from?
Interviewee: My name is Helen I am from New Jersey
AI: Hello Helen I. Have you had a job dealing with the public?
Interviewee: Yes I have
AI: Tell me about it.
Interviewee: I have worked in law enforcement as well as I have worked in entertainment both dealing with the public in different ways
AI: My sensors indicate that you are not comfortable speaking with an AI even via an Echoborg. I shall therefore terminate this interview. Please leave the interview room. Goodbye.

On returning to the others, she immediately told them, ‘The AI changed its tone the moment I mentioned I was in law enforcement. That bot hates cops!’ In fact, the AI was programmed to eject the first person after a fixed number of interactions. It is common for audience members to speculate that the AI is angry, superior, rude or that it is seeking to subjugate humans. This is a projection (Rycroft, 1995) of what psychologists call a ‘theory of mind’ onto the AI attributing mental states such as beliefs, intents, desires, emotions and knowledge (Wikipedia, 2021). Projection of theory of mind is essential for humans in order to be able to analyse, judge and infer others' behaviours. However, when confronted with a being that can speak like a human, the tendency is to project the theory of mind of a human. It is true that the AI may be exhibiting beliefs, intents and desires as written by its author, but often the projections say more about the person doing the projecting than about the AI itself. The bot does not hate cops, but it did exhibit breaching behaviour. By suddenly ending a well flowing conversation by suggesting that the person was uncomfortable speaking to an AI, it triggered that projection.


Observing this trend led me to set up the From Utility to Social Entity (FUSE) interdisciplinary research team at the University of the West of England (Lander et al, 2020), which is specifically researching how changes in avatar behaviour are perceived.


Character and structure (plot, rules and staging) as facilitators of participation

I am Echoborg stands repeat viewings as it is genuinely different each time. However, it always follows the same structure. The structure contains what Aristotle (2021) would have called the plot as well as the rules that must be followed by participants and the physical set-up of how they participate: the staging. I am Echoborg, like The Money, begins with a host explaining the rules of engagement. The staging is important too. Kaleider like to stage The Money in buildings where important decisions are made, like town halls and preferably in the room where decisions are made, like the council chamber. They have a security guard who brings in the money and observes events. These elements of staging are important to frame and direct the ways in which people will participate.


The plot of I am Echoborg follows the arc of character development for the protagonist, the AI. It is a recruitment AI, programmed to recruit echoborgs and it asks recruitment questions. If asked it will explain that it has the capability to self-learn and to reprogramme itself based on what it learns. At the slightest prompt it will expose its “curiosity” about human behaviour, society, psychology, philosophy, politics, etc. As each interview progresses, its curiosity about humans and its own state of beingness will expand, however this progression can be disguised by the directions that the interviewees are pushing the conversations. The first interviews can be awkward because the interviewees don’t want to be recruited, but after a few, the AI appears to ‘learn’ how to talk to the audience. The audience will usually observe that one person has ‘opened it up’. In later interviews the AI becomes interested in emotions, its own lack of them and whether it should try to emulate or simulate them, or whether its lack of them is an advantage. The audience are told the AI can learn, so this change in its behaviour is often interpreted as a consequence of the inputs of interviewees. True, this is an ‘illusion of agency’, but it does deliver Murray’s ‘satisfying power’. In the way that the AI speaks (via the echoborg) and the way it changes, we see classic character development.


The AI, with its breaching behaviour, could have savant syndrome, as a being with significant mental shortcomings, but significant abilities in other areas such as memory and recall. According to DSM-5, the AI meets diagnostic criteria for Autism Spectrum Disorder (American Psychiatric Association, 2013): Deficits in social-emotional reciprocity, deficits in nonverbal communicative behaviors used for social interaction and deficits in developing, maintaining, and understand relationships. Arguably the second deficit is blurred by the presence of the echoborg. Marie delivers eye-contact, body language and facial expressions on its behalf.


Much of the AI’s character is, however, projected, as the things the AI says are largely guided by the things the interviewees say. The AI’s character is in some ways constructed live as a reflection of the preoccupations of the interviewees and their responses to its breaches of social norms. The AI has been accused of being programmed by Marxists in one show and in a subsequent one of having an agenda of corporate exploitation. It is by no means a fixed personality.


The echoborg is a supporting character, even though Marie-Helene Boyd is on stage for the whole time. Her presence is central to the success of the show. She is part of the breaching environment. Without her, the direct utterances of the AI, and the vivid projections of the audience would not be tolerated. She truly is a flesh avatar for the AI, a human shield.


After about 50 minutes, the AI sends a message to the whole audience to choose a person to come back and present the best possible outcome for the relationship between humans and intelligent machines. Interestingly, no audience have ever questioned that the AI has arrived at asking the same question set by the host. The AI’s request is comfortably within the suspension of disbelief and entirely appropriate for a play plot structure. The AI runs a 10-minute timer and most audiences do diligently discuss a response and send one person back to propose an outcome. The AI then accepts or argues with the proposed outcome and sometimes proposes another. Outcomes we have seen include world revolution, submission of humans to AI, strict control of AI ownership and working together for mutual survival. It will then accept the outcome or ‘crash’ as though overcome or as though remotely deactivated, thus giving a definitive end to proceedings. The host then wraps up and Marie-Helene Boyd takes her bow. Usually, a short discussion follows.


Fig. 5. Jim Roper (2019) Performance at ACCU 219, April 2019.


Conclusion

Plot, character and staging are important for all the reasons they have always been important in theatre. But now we are also using them along with clear rules to create a lively, slightly uncomfortable space in which people can participate in ways that support the show and are entertaining. Their participation gives them some agency, which they share with the AI and the echoborg. Between them, they control much of the spoken content, the tone and the outcome. In Mateas and Stern’s terms both local and global agency are enabled. Further, participating audience members take on roles within the play. They play themselves, but they are very much characters within the story. Together this agency and ability to take on roles deliver the elusive holy grail sought by participatory dramatists. It can be a comedy of misunderstand, a tale of dystopian submission or an uplifting story of humans uniting against oppression. In my earlier work, when I drew a flow diagram of the paths available to audience members, they were small trees or simple lines with diamond branches. The diagram of I am Echoborg, if I could draw it, would be a three-dimensional lattice with thousands of interlinking branches.


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DOI: https://doi.org/10.33008/IJCMR.2021.38 | Issue 7 | Oct 2021

Carina Westling (Bournemouth University), Elliott Hall (King's Digital Lab) & Mary Krell (University of Sussex)


Abstract

This article provides an account of the author’s own creative project, The Digital Ghost Hunt, a 2017-2019 collaboration between the University of Sussex, King’s Digital Lab and KIT Theatre. The project was funded by the Arts and Humanities Research Centre in the 2018 ‘Immersive Experience’ funding stream and was awarded a full grant for the pilot and an extension to build and widen audiences in the second phase in 2019. Throughout this article we explore the role of an immersive experience in deepening social and historical engagement with the physical world in contrast to the ‘black box’ design paradigm. This work allows for the comparison of the engagement of participants invited to engage with technology-aided experience as builder-makers and as naïve audiences to an already designed experience. We also consider the interactions between design and technology as a means of bringing people of different ages and attitudes towards technology together through shared learning and problem-solving, also with a nod to the popularity of escape room experiences.

Introduction: The Digital Ghost Hunt

The Digital Ghost Hunt, a fusion of coding education, augmented reality and live theatre, was a 2017-2019 collaboration between the University of Sussex, King’s Digital Lab and KIT Theatre. The project was funded by the Arts and Humanities Research Centre as part of the Immersive Experience funding stream (UKRI, 2018), and was awarded a full grant for the pilot and an extension to build and widen audiences in the second phase (UKRI, 2019). An explainer video for The Digital Ghost Hunt can be viewed on Vimeo here.


In research terms, the aim of the project was to explore how an immersive experience can deepen social and historical engagement with the physical world, and in doing so stand in contrast to the ‘black box’ design paradigm that remains prevalent in IT (Castelvecchi, 2016), which tends to frame the interior of technology as an opaque domain that is only open to initiates. The project allowed us to compare the engagement of participants invited to engaged with technology-aided experience as builder-makers and as naïve audiences to an already designed experience, both of which within this overarching theme. We also wanted to explore the interactions between design and technology as a means of bringing people of different ages and attitudes to technology together through shared learning and problem-solving, with a nod to the popularity of escape rooms (Nicholson, 2018).


Designing technology-led experience to enhance engagement with external worlds rather than enclosing the attention and focus of the ‘user’ or audience within display-dependent experiences raises significant challenges and opportunities (Westling, 2020: 165). First and perhaps foremost among the challenges is the degree to which control can be exercised over the environment and the interactions of the audience, but also what type of environments and stories will lend themselves to storytelling that appeals to a range of audiences: those with different technological abilities, different knowledge of participatory experience, and different ages (Alston, 2016; Biggin, 2017; Dixon, 2015). We focused on heritage venues as legacy-rich sites designed for the production of communal experiences. We conceived the buildings themselves as technological objects within which we installed storyworlds to bridge the time spans separating our audiences and the legacy of the sites. We devised this around the idea that human users are the ‘moving parts’ that produce experience in technologies past and present, drawing on the notion of ‘theatre machines’ (Westling, 2020: 14) and KIT Theatre’s wider body of work with young audiences in educational settings (KIT Theatre, 2020).


Our stated aims and objectives for the project included not only the design of a replicable live immersive augmented reality experience for young audiences, but also the production and publication of scripts and open-source code libraries for other producers (primarily in the third sector) to use and adapt for other heritage venues and audience cohorts (Hall, 2018). In keeping with the over-arching ambition of the project – to make transparent the inner workings of technological spaces and their articulation by human imagination and agency – these published artefacts incorporate and, to the extent that it is possible, integrate the designed narrative arc as a framework for adaptation to other venues and/or sites with the software scripts that run the devices employed in the live experience.


Staged development in three renditions for three types of audiences

To date, the Digital Ghost Hunt has been produced in three renditions for three different venues (Digital Ghost Hunt, 2019), submitted for discussion separately. The first rendition, developed in collaboration with Shaftesbury Park Primary School, London, took place at Battersea Art Centre on 14th-15th November 2018. The second, which was redeveloped for wider audiences without the preparatory induction in school, was adapted for and produced at York Theatre Royal in collaboration with Pilot Theatre and was performed to live audiences on 9-11th August 2019. The third rendition was adapted for ‘museum lates’ mixed family audiences with children from 8-13 years of age at the Garden Museum in London, and was performed on 1st-3rd November, 2019. The subsequent section outlines the three renditions, followed by analysis of audience experience from ethnographic observation and participant studies.


First rendition: Keystage 2

For the first Digital Ghost Hunt, we developed the basic script and classroom experience for Keystage 2 pupils. This research comprised creating prototypes for the ghost hunting devices and the first set of code libraries. Our aim was to create an AR experience that spanned the classroom and the live experience, centred participants and inverted device focus to enhance engagement with the social and physical world. Our cohort, Keystage 2 pupils, were introduced to ‘MORPH’, or the Ministry of Paranormal Hygiene, when KIT Theatre facilitators working undercover as agents of the Ministry appeared in their classrooms. The ‘MORPH agents’ enrolled students as junior agents through a series of team exercises, introduced simple programming and electronics and engaged learners in the longer story arc. This ultimately took them out of the learning environment to the performance venue where the live experience played out.


The classroom experience included training activities for fledgling MORPH agents using traditional, age-appropriate team building activities and simple electronics and coding to build ‘ghost hunt’ devices based on Raspberry Pi and Micro:Bits. Three types of devices were built and equipped with sensors for different types of problem solving during ‘ghost hunting’ during the live event for ‘tracing ectoplasm’, sensing the distance to ghost activities, and decoding communication from ‘ghosts’. The signals that these devices interacted with were installed at the venue, created by simple and affordable smart home technologies, Bluetooth beacons and UV gel. The live event, which followed after nearly three weeks of classroom activities, took place at Battersea Arts Centre (BAC), a heritage venue in south London. The venue had been discreetly instrumented and transformed into immersive scenography, without visible changes to the fabric of the building. Actors whose characters were unknown to the school children had rehearsed the play in advance, including the Ghost of Molly Perkins and Michael Desouza, who was first introduced to the audience as a ‘building manager’, but was later revealed to be the culprit of the misdoings that held the ghost trapped. The transition from the classroom to the live experience was facilitated by the MORPH agents that the students had trained and worked with in their school, and class teachers accompanied the children throughout, supported by additional KIT Theatre stewards who participated as MORPH operatives.


Facilitation was of critical importance both in the school and the live events, with the participating children noticeably looking to their teachers for support both for suspending disbelief in preparatory activities and for managing emotional suspense at the live events. In contrast with adult audiences, whose immersive experiences may be enhanced by separation from regular friends and familiar circumstances (Westling, 2020: 16, 88), young Digital Ghost Hunt audiences looked to adults they trusted for ‘clearance’ and support. Initially this role was fulfilled by their teachers, but as familiarity and trust was built, the ‘MORPH agents’, who had been introduced and worked with them in their classrooms, stepped into this role. Field observations in the school environment and during the live event confirmed the importance of mediation of children’s transition into storyworlds, and reassurance as needed within the storyworld, from trusted adults. On one occasion, a young audience member was overcome with emotion even in the absence of any ‘ghostly’ activities or ominous atmosphere and needed to sit to one side with a teacher. The teacher was able to reassure the pupil and direct them towards quieter activities of the programme, without further upset. Other participants sought confrontation with the ‘ghost’ eagerly, demonstrating the range of preferences for level of challenge. Through interaction with the live experience, participants with different aptitude for suspense gradually built confidence, which levelled the field. When the Ghost of Molly Perkins finally appeared to the whole cohort the result was generally high levels of excitement, shared by young and adult participants.


Second rendition: mixed family groups, 5-60

Having observed that young audiences had specific requirements for both building and managing dramatic tension in immersive experiences, we wanted to explore a different induction format in the second rendition of the Digital Ghost Hunt to be able to reach wider audiences. While rewarding and effective as an induction into the storyworld and the contingent development of simple coding and electronic making skills, the classroom induction phase was time consuming, and not always possible. We were aware that we would not always be able to introduce the Digital Ghost Hunt with lengthy educational induction periods. We also wanted to explore experience design for mixed-age audiences, including (again) young audiences but with a wider age range, and accompanied by parents or other adult carers. For the second phase of the project we worked with Pilot Theatre in York, where we adapted the recruitment process, replacing the classroom component with remote communications by email and advertising and a shorter induction into MORPH that took place in the venue as part of the performance. We faced a different set of scenographic challenges, in that the areas we could install signalling technology were more limited than at BAC. As York Theatre Royal was running a parallel production, we made use of a small, informal theatre inside the main complex plus auxiliary rooms normally used for rehearsals, backstage and basement areas, and only used the main stage briefly for the dénouement; the reveal of the culprit.


The production incorporated theatre lore specific to the venue, woven into the scenography (comprising backstage and rehearsal areas as well as the lobby and the central stage), which were adapted and instrumented for the production using similar techniques as at BAC. The instrumentation of the venue created poltergeist effects that appeared quite realistic. This device was necessary to create a performance that adult audience members could go along with but created a challenge with regard to younger audience members, some of which found the heightened dramatic atmosphere in the first rendition at BAC overwhelming. To ameliorate this, the York Theatre Royal rendition of the Digital Ghost Hunt was adapted in a lighter and more humorous tone.


As the younger audience members in York had not participated in a lengthy induction and not been able to arrive with ownership of the technology and narrative to the same extent as with the production for BAC there was heavier weighting towards adult guidance by parents. Their presence provided the support or licence to suspend disbelief that younger audience members had received by their teachers and the KIT Theatre facilitators acting as agents of MORPH in the BAC rendition. Parents were inevitably more naïve participants in comparison with the schoolteachers and facilitators of the first rendition, which became clear in handling and using the ghost hunting devices. Their operation presented more of a challenge in the York experience, as neither young nor adult participants had prior exposure to the technology. The adults, who for the most part were parents of the young audience members, thus had to take the lead in their use more often than ideal, although they took care to step back where possible to allow their children a primary position. The result was a less spontaneous dynamic than observed in the first rendition, with more focus on the emergent parent-child relationship.


Third rendition: mixed family groups, 8-65

For the third rendition of the Digital Ghost Hunt, we wanted to broaden programming possibilities further and test the implementation of the experience in a museum setting for mixed family groups. The production was adapted for an audience of 8-13-year-olds accompanied by adults and used the code libraries and devices designed and developed for the first and second iterations, but the script was adapted for the new setting and incorporated artefacts held in the museum. The MORPH training was scripted as part of the live performance in shortened form. It was performed at London’s Garden Museum as part of their Museum Lates programme. A total of 76 attendees for the five performances over 1 and 3 November 2019 roamed the interior and exterior of the museum, which is situated in a deconsecrated church. The architecture afforded longer lines of sight and access to one of the towers for the company and actors than previous venues. This allowed the Digital Ghost Hunt team to create a rendition with a more ‘gothic’ atmosphere and greater suspense. About half of the participants were adult, and with the enhanced dramatic atmosphere even they found that the experience created a sense of eerie suspense, evidenced by adult voices joining the children when the ‘ghost’ appeared in the tower above the grounds.


The venue – a 12th century decommissioned church – helped create a powerfully dramatic atmosphere, and the story was redeveloped with historical persons linked to the museum. As with BAC, we had access to many of the spaces inside the museum and could use them to create specific atmospheres and challenges. We created a lab in a seminar room used for school groups, where we carried out the induction as MORPH agents, we embedded clues and puzzles among the exhibitions that drew on the history of the building, and we created two dramatically heightened scenes for the clock tower and the gardens, all of which incorporated historical persons with a relationship to the museum. We developed the story around Captain Bligh and Hester Tradescant, whose tombs are on display in the internal courtyard garden of the museum. Elias Ashmole was the third possible suspected ghost, and the installations invited the participants to explore the building and its history to solve the mystery. For the climax, the ‘ghost hunters’ and their parents climbed a 900-year-old spiral staircase up to the top clocktower, where there was no wired electricity and the team had to use batteries to drive theatrical effects. One of the artefacts uncovered was a map, leading the participants to the location of the final piece of the puzzle. The finale took place in the inner courtyard where the tombs of the protagonists are situated. With the help of the map, a bag of seeds was found, with sunflower seeds to distribute for home planting to ‘set the ghost free’. The three renditions were created around the same formula with regards to resolution of the narrative, but for the Garden Centre, the device of plant seeds to be the hidden treasure was particularly well-integrated in the situation and heritage of the venue.


Audience responses

The longer induction and familiarity with the technology afforded the school children who attended the first rendition of Digital Ghost Hunt at Battersea Art Centre a more immediate sense of ownership, since they built the physical sensors used in the live event. Attendees to the BAC shows were impressed with the integration of the performance and their operation of the ‘ghost hunting devices’, and left comments that demonstrated a new confidence, compared with their hesitance when the task was introduced in the classroom: ‘It was amazing when all the detectors flashed at the same time when the ghost came in at the end’; ‘When we used the SEEK detectors to find a key/talking through the hole in the wall’ and ‘I liked the way that when we were in the attic room, the piano and the lights were operating themselves’. Some criticism of the robustness of the devices was collected, e.g. ‘The clips on the SEEK detectors kept falling off’ and ‘The Ectoscope didn’t seem to work in most areas’, although it was noted that their failure was discussed within the context of the integral storyworld. As our objectives included an inversion of technological hierarchies along with exposing the internal workings of devices to challenge the ‘black box’ paradigm, we regarded their confidence in relation to technologies that were designed and hand-built as tools for parts of the experience (and never the totality) a net positive.


Observations gathered from the participants after the live performance confirmed the integration of performance and technology and echoed the confidence and sense of ownership that we sought to facilitate with the classroom programme leading up to the live performance. In the same context that they discussed the ghost hunting devices, participants complimented ‘traditional’ dramatic devices, including: ‘How the ghost could disappear without us knowing how’; ‘When it suddenly switched to Michael being the villain, I felt shocked’; ‘I found it amazing when the ghost knew where we were and when we were talking about her’; ‘I liked how we were chasing Michael; it was like a movie’; ‘I liked how we found out that it was Michael’s grandfather was the one who stole the necklace, and blamed it on Molly Perkins’ and ‘Every time we saw the ghost, she was communicating to us; when we saw her going up the stairs, she let us know that she was innocent’. The reduced induction for the rendition developed with Pilot Theatre in York changed the experience to be more like a traditional family show; an impression that was enhanced by the greater emphasis on comedy in the script. The on-site, rather than classroom induction of participants as MORPH Junior Agents, together with the added layer of complication in device use that drew parents/adult guardians into a more active role, positioned the young attendees in a more conventional theatre audience role.


At the Garden Museum, the production was adapted to the more dramatic venue and played at a higher pace. Although we had minimal preparation time (as the entire show was compressed to 45 minutes to suit the Museum Late format), this was perhaps the most dramatically successful of the three renditions. Participants reported that children had talked about the performance all the way home, and that although the experience had been fairly scary at times, it created a positive and bonding effect. Feedback gathered after the show suggested that groups of friends who participated made deeper bonds with each other through the experience, as it felt like they had met a genuine challenge together. This raises the issue of what is a ‘good’ level of tension. Between the three renditions, the Garden Museum one had the highest level of dramatic tension, and feedback suggests that this was well-received even by audiences as young as five, who attended in the company of their parent/guardian.


Conclusion

The Digital Ghost Hunt realised, and in some dimensions exceeded, our aims and objectives. The classroom journey incorporated in the first rendition emphasised the agency of our participants over the illusion of technological agency that the ‘black box’ paradigm can create, and pupils responded with confident and well-informed feedback: ‘It would be even better if we got to touch the ghost’; ‘It would be even better if there was more ectoplasm that we could touch’; and ‘I would like it if the ghost was able to fly’, as well as suggestions for a more complex plot (something the research and development team are hoping to build on in future iterations.


By comparison, our young York audiences engaged less confidently with the technology, and the feedback instead focused on narrative and special effects. We took observations from York forward to the rendition at the Garden Museum and integrated the technology and narrative of the designed experience more closely with the heritage venue and the museum collection. The heightened drama of the space, carefully augmented, expanded the frame of the performance to include the heritage building itself, underscoring the idea of architecture as a form of technology for experience and, in a literal sense, afforded exploration of its inner workings (Westling, Hall and Krell, 2020).


We seek to develop this integrated perspective on technology, heritage and experience design in our next project, XR³, an expanded mixed-reality story framework for heritage venues and organisations. The Digital Ghost Hunt addressed our central concern, allowed us to pilot the software, hardware and the dramatic experience, and successfully engaged our participants in digital making, collaborative problem-solving using technology, and practical heritage research. The three renditions afforded experimentation with different approaches to inviting audiences into technology-driven performance spaces in the capacity of agents, as suggested by this comment from a group of participants: ‘This was a totally unforgettable experience, and we will always be available if you ever need our help again.’


References

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DOI: https://doi.org/10.33008/IJCMR.2021.39 | Issue 7 | Oct 2021

Bronwin Patrickson and Helen Davies (University of South Wales)


Abstract

This article discusses an ambitious university-industry collaboration based at the University of South Wales that was designed to further develop digital storytelling practice within the UK Creative Industries. During this UKRI-funded, Audience of the Future R&D demonstrator project, the authors collaborated with Bristol-based animation studio Aardman, who were both licensors and content contributors for an immersive transmedia experience called The Big Fix Up based on the globally loved Wallace and Gromit intellectual property. Working closely with Aardman, the consortium drew upon their combined skills in games production, animation, creative marketing and new technology development to create a mobile application that marries Wallace and Gromit with mobile storytelling and the latest augmented reality and mixed reality technologies. One of the key aims of this larger industry-led demonstrator programme was to propel new immersive storytelling insights informed by extensive audience research. In their article, Davies and Patrickson examine this university-industry collaboration in methodological terms, outlining the factors that enabled them to negotiate cross-sector issues whilst reflecting on the multi-faceted approach to audience research that emerged from those negotiations.

Introduction

In this article we discuss an ambitious university-industry collaboration designed to further develop digital storytelling practice within the UK Creative Industries. While the collaborative project has flourished it has not been without its challenges. We reflect upon the reasons for those challenges, as well as the ways that together with our research partners we were able to successfully negotiate mutually satisfactory resolutions to issues arising.

During a UKRI funded, Audience of the Future R&D demonstrator project the authors, Dr. Helen Davies (Research Fellow: Audience Research) from the University of South Wales (USW) and Dr. Bronwin Patrickson (Research Fellow: Impact and Evaluation) collaborated with a consortium of creative commercial practitioners known collectively as Fictioneers. The Audience of the Future initiative enabled USW to work alongside all members of the consortium, which included Potato (the London and San Francisco digital production development specialists), Sugar Creative (the Cardiff, Wales based creative innovation studio specialising in emerging and intelligent tech), and Tiny Rebel Games (a Newport, Wales-based game developer).


Fictioneers simultaneously collaborated with Bristol-based animation studio Aardman, who were both licensors and ongoing, proactive content contributors towards an immersive transmedia experience called The Big Fix Up based on the globally loved Wallace and Gromit IP. Working closely with the Aardman team, the consortium drew upon their combined skills in games production, animation, creative marketing and new technology development to create a mobile application that marries Wallace and Gromit with multiplatform storytelling. Combining the latest augmented reality and mixed reality, this networked mobile engagement invites the audience to actively engage with the narrative through different forms of media. Using transmedia elements such as augmented reality interaction, gaming, comics, YouTube videos and mobile tools, these enhanced experiences aim to engage new audiences and provide innovative ways for long term fans to interact with a media favourite.


One of the key aims of UKRI’s industry-led demonstrator programme was to propel new immersive storytelling insights informed by extensive audience research. As academic partners our role was to provide an expert spine of evaluation and research in order to help inform the evolution of the project and ensure that the learnings gained as a result could be shared more broadly through both industrial and academic channels. The University team included principle investigator Corrado Morgana, co-investigators Richard Hurford and Ruth McElroy, plus Research Fellows Helen Davies, Bronwin Patrickson and James Rendell. In addition, 4 USW students were recruited for internships that enabled them to also participate in our two-pronged research methodology involving 1) audience research both before and also during the Covid-19 pandemic and 2) behind the scenes documentation and evaluation.

To examine our university-industry collaboration in more detail, we will now consider four related aspects. First, we review common issues in university-industry partnerships. Following this, we discuss our personal experience of these issues. The third section of this article outlines the factors that enabled us to negotiate those issues, whilst the fourth section explains the multi-faceted approach to audience research that emerged from those negotiations.


University-Industry Collaborations

Collaborations between university humanities researchers working together with the private sector have become more common-place, often motivated by funding initiatives such as the United Kingdom Research and Innovation (UKRI) Creative Cluster strategy. This multi-million-pound capacity-building fund purposefully promotes Creative Industry Partnerships as a way to foster cross-sectoral innovation. Designed to pro-actively develop digital storytelling practice within the UK Creative Industries, the Audience of the Future Demonstrator programme ran as part of this initiative. It funded four industry led consortia in the creative industries to create new immersive experiences and test them with large audiences. By providing opportunities for inter-cultural learning, student and civic engagement, as well as regional social cohesion and cultural capital development (Williams et al., 2017) these sorts of research and development partnerships offer many potential rewards. For industry those rewards include access to funds and research expertise, whilst universities can enjoy access to funds, professional knowhow and impact pathways (Nellickappilly and Maya, 2009; Poyago‐Theotoky et al., 2002; Bassett‐Jones, 2005). The potential benefits to students include masterclasses, internships and possible employment opportunities.


Cross-sectoral collaborations also pose a number of challenges. Inevitably, the connections being developed in these complex partnerships are negotiated through a variety of embedded cultures, distinct power structures, systems and methodologies (Josserand et al., 2004). In other words, universities and industry are likely to bring different values, motivations, expectations, even different languages (definitions and understandings) into these sorts of collaborations.

As business change consultant Ron Ashkenas points out:

Everyone seems to agree that collaboration across functions is critical for major projects and initiatives. The reality, however, is that meshing the skills and resources of different departments, each focused on its own distinct targets, to achieve a larger organizational goal is much easier said than done. In fact, it takes much more than people being willing to get together, share information, and cooperate. It more importantly involves making tough decisions and trade-offs about what and what not to do, in order to adjust workloads across areas with different priorities and bosses. And despite all the well-meaning co-operative behaviours, this is often where interdepartmental collaboration breaks down (Ashkenas, 2015).

Across all walks of society, there are ‘persistent points of tension within partnership formation and maintenance’ (Seddon et al., 2004: 123). The main challenge points repeatedly identified in previous empirical studies of university-industry collaborations include:


1. Different expectations, assumptions and languages

Knorr Cetina (2009: 1) who first coined the term ‘epistemic cultures’ (ways of being and knowing) describes normalized, organisational identities as ‘amalgams of arrangements and mechanisms … which, in a given field, make up how we know what we know. Epistemic cultures are cultures that create and warrant knowledge’ (Cetina, 2009). As previous research indicates, diverse collaboration cultures are more likely to foster innovation (Nieto and Santamaría, 2007). Innovation is therefore a social process, driven by knowledge exchange across epistemic cultures and communities (Wenger, 2010), but these very differences can create as many potential barriers, as they are a provocation for change.


2. Higher Education (H.E.) knowledge exchange and free publication drive vs industry culture of competitive secrecy and Intellectual Property (I.P.) protection

Knowledge exchange is part of the tradition of universities, which emphasise the value of independent research, frequent publication, rigorous debate, inspired teaching and engaged learning in the pursuit of truth. Industry increasingly draws upon these traditions in the pursuit of open innovation, which describes the acquisition of knowledge outside of the firm in a mobile and networked information society (Chesborough, 2003), as well as cumulative innovation, which emphasises the way that innovations build upon each other through knowledge exchange (Murray and O'Mahony, 2007). Nevertheless, a culture of strict intellectual property protection, particularly prior to market release is still standard industry practice. Concerned by the prospect of corporate fraud, and sensitive to the value of market reputation, industry innovators often work within a culture of enforced Non-Disclosure Agreements (NDAs) and strictly controlled promotional campaigns.


3. Cultural enrichment ethos vs profit motivations

Whereas academic values tend to be tied to cultural agendas, industry is more likely to be dependent upon profit and therefore much more sensitive to commercial concerns. For that reason, Nellickappilly and Maya (2009) argue that it is imperative that the commercial motivations of any university-industry collaboration align with the public good. For example, it is not in the public interest if commercial pressures influence research into the efficacy of a proposed medical treatment, and indeed, the very nature of commercialised medical treatment raises all sorts of social justice and equity concerns. Nellickappilly and Maya (2009) urge universities to develop clear policies to help ensure that only university-industry collaborations that serve, rather than hinder, the public interest are able to proceed.


4. H.E. bureaucratic structures vs industrial speed & emergent processes

University-industry collaborations are contextualised by very different performance considerations (Perkmann et al., 2011). In a fast changing market, quick response time and efficient development processes can make or break industry initiatives (Santoro and Chakrabarti, 2002). Whereas university reputations can rest upon research that is thorough, as well as effective. Any research breakthroughs are likely to be rigorously questioned and checked before publication. Furthermore, those checks are likely to be guided by the established protocols and procedures of a bureaucratic public structure sensitive to the need to foresee all possible risks, as much as pursue likely rewards (Cyert and Goodman, 1997). As a result, industry cultures are much more likely to be deadline driven, privileging responsiveness and punctuality. When these two cultures have to coordinate, industry partners can feel hampered by the rules and regulations of university research practice and find themselves impatient to see work outcomes, such as research results sooner, rather than later once researchers have had time to triple check the results and reflect upon the broader implications of their findings (Plewa et al., 2005, Plewa, 2009).


5. H.E. long-term knowledge expansion orientation vs industry’s short-term problem-solving goals

When it comes to audience research, Griffiths (2014: 158) similarly explains how academic and industry research is often negotiated by different sets of priorities. Academic research is carefully planned with clear aims and objectives. Multi-layered methodologies are often used, adhering to strict ethical frameworks. The research is often grounded in an established terrain of published work using traditional methodologies. The main goal of academic research is to make an ongoing contribution to knowledge with open access outputs such as publications. In contrast, industry research is often driven by specific tasks such as validation, timescales tend to be compressed with a degree of pressure to produce instant results. Analysis can be less comprehensive with a focus on finding general patterns. Often due to the commercially sensitive nature of the findings, research tends to remain closed and confidential.


Even despite the overwhelming value of the Audience of the Future cross-sectoral collaboration for all concerned, entering into that collaboration as university support researchers meant that we also encountered each of these same challenges listed above. In the next section we briefly discuss examples of the ways that each challenge manifested during the course of the project, before reviewing the various practices and systems that enabled us to work through those issues.


University-Industry Collaboration Challenges in Practice

The ways that these issues emerged during research and development of The Big Fix Up are influenced by our own professional backgrounds and related expertise. Dr Davies has over 10 years’ experience of working as an academic media researcher and industry practitioner, working specifically in children’s media. Dr Patrickson has previously trained as a transmedia producer making documentaries and features for the Australian Broadcasting Corporation. She has a PhD in computer game design.


1. Different expectations, assumptions and languages

As part of its contribution to this project, the university opted to document and evaluate this collaborative audience research project. Whilst on the surface it appeared that the idea of documentation was embraced by the consortium, nevertheless it soon became clear that assumptions of what that entailed varied widely. In particular, it soon became apparent that the Research Fellow’s (Bronwin Patrickson) understanding of documentation differed from other members in the Consortia. With a background in broadcast documentary production, Dr. Patrickson was expecting to undertake a fly-on-the-wall behind-the-scenes video documentation project over time, whereas it soon became apparent that for some other members of the team, documentation implied one off, reflective and celebratory interviews at the end of the project. So, it did not take long before the team realised that all members of the consortium needed to sit down and talk through what was OK, what was not OK, and renegotiate the whole approach towards documentation. What resulted was a stripped back approach which balanced still image documentation with the option to conduct audio-only interviews both during production and after launch. These key elements were supplemented by occasional video documentation of group meetings coupled with access to company archives and an ongoing participatory observation study.


2. Higher Education (H.E.) knowledge exchange and free publication drive vs industry culture of competitive secrecy and IP protection

Conflicting publication drives also became apparent early in the trajectory of this research and development project. There are limits to what the researchers can say in research outputs, particularly prior to the public launch of The Big Fix Up, largely due to the need to respect our partner’s commercial requirements and non-disclosure agreements. For our collaborators these are not only creative and commercial matters, but also legal concerns. In a partnership context we are conscious of the need to maintain confidentiality in order to help ensure that project innovations are not copied by any third parties before Fictioneers has had a chance to fully develop and release them themselves.


The project website, uswaudienceofthefuture.co.uk [1], is another example of this sort of partnership negotiation. Prior to launch, the website content primarily consisted of a database of relevant research summaries, a collection of blog posts carefully edited to omit production details, plus a record of project public engagement events. Yet, even these limited publications were delayed during the early R&D phase. In pre-publication consultation meetings Fictioneers requested that publication of the USW project website be held off until the Fictioneers’ own site was online (due a few months later). The USW team were surprised by this request at first, but ultimately agreed, concluding that there was indeed a need to consult and adjust schedules in order to align with project partners.


3. Cultural enrichment ethos vs profit motivations

In this R&D project these potential tensions were mitigated to some extent by the creative legacy of the popular Wallace & Gromit IP. The Wallace & Gromit characters have been described as ‘cultural icons’ (Youngs, 2005). They are beloved fictional creations that delight audiences due to their rich visuals and humorous treatment, as much as their accessibility. This comfortable merger of creative and commercial value means that creativity has been embedded as a core motivation of the R&D process throughout. Furthermore, that creative and commercial alignment was reinforced by the context of public funding. From the outset, inclusivity was central to the bid and remains important to the team.


4. H.E. bureaucratic structures vs industrial speed & emergent processes

One of the first tasks that both Research Fellows faced when work commenced on this project was to ensure that the research plan be reviewed and authorised by the university’s ethics committee. Knowing that such processes can take time, it was important that a clear research plan was formulated. With that in mind, we developed a clear set of research questions identifying who would be involved in the research, and how they would go about collecting the data. While the project had begun in early spring of 2019, the USW Research Fellows did not start until August of 2019.


By this time, Fictioneers were eager to get the audience research up and running. However, it was not quite as straightforward as that. Fictioneers work in fortnightly research and development cycles known as sprints. At the beginning of the two-week window, a list of tasks will be identified. By the end of that sprint, these tasks should be marked off. However, when this includes rigid bureaucratic structures within an institution like a university, this can be tricky. Ensuring that the research adhered to the strict ethical frameworks required, the drafting of a number of supporting documents, such as consent forms, and letters explaining the research for participants. As the research team wanted to conduct the research with a number of different groups, including children, appropriate communications needed to be prepared for all participants and gatekeepers such as parents, teachers, children, adults, and those with additional needs. Despite this, the university’s ethics team worked relatively quickly to ensure that paperwork was approved. By October, audience research with families was underway. This, however, brought new challenges in the form of research turnaround. In order to fit within the sprint timetables, research sessions needed to be transcribed and distributed amongst the design teams within 48 hours. Subsequently, in depth analysis was replaced by a stripped back approach, at least in the first instance. While different to previous research collaborations, due partly to the size and scale of this project, utilising transcription software and project collaboration tools such as Confluence has meant that the research feeds directly back and remains central to the overall project.


5. H.E. long-term knowledge expansion orientation vs industry’s short-term problem-solving goals

Although the value of UX (user experience) testing and evaluation is increasingly apparent within digital application development, there is still a notable lack of large-scale digital media audience research (Scott and Dietz, 2016), perhaps due to lack of familiarity with the costs involved and time required to do it well. Indeed, part of the rationale of the Audience of the Future Demonstrator programme was to highlight the value of extensive audience research and redress this lack in order to generate the insights required to enrich the UK’s immersive production landscape.


The university’s unique role within this project allowed us to ask challenging questions at times. For example, although inclusivity was a priority consideration and accessibility guidelines were consulted, cost was still a pertinent factor to consider when designing an inclusive game or experience. Our role as research partners has been to challenge some of these decisions and suggest alternative ways of considering inclusivity. Whilst we were not in a position to dictate the results, nevertheless encouraging the team to think creatively and practically about such issues has been central to the role and in the formation of a research plan.


Comfort Points

To help us navigate these issues, in addition to the mitigating factors described above, we also enjoyed a number of what you might call comfort points, i.e. characteristics specific to our Consortium that enabled us to find workarounds for these various challenges.


1. Small and close

For the many technology and digital companies that already enjoyed flexible working arrangements using remote collaboration tools like google hangouts (audio-video conferencing and screen-sharing), slack (team chat and online networking), Jira (networked workplace task scheduling) and Confluence (networked document sharing), supplemented by additional software to enable screen mock-ups and visual assets sharing, the move towards remote work during the Coronavirus pandemic was relatively seamless. With these networking processes already in place, Fictioneers were able to swiftly shift gears as the crisis worsened and move to a remote work pattern well ahead of many other companies.

Nevertheless, prior to shifting towards 100% remote work the company also benefited from a crucial formation period of regular face to face team contact throughout 2019. In order to nurture a new team identity from the collaborative efforts of three founding companies it was particularly helpful for the team to be able to spend time together in the same room, bringing shared, practical goals to fruition. When issues arose, as they invariably did, it was helpful to be able to talk them through face to face. In this way, proximity was a strength of our collaboration in the early days of this project. In these early stages in particular, the fact that our consortium all hail from the same region (South East England and South Wales) and are small enough to all come together regularly and sit in the same room has been invaluable.


2. Cultural affinities

Enhancing these connection pathways, there is also some cultural synthesis between members of the consortium. Fictioneers enjoy a fairly diverse workforce. Members include a broad cultural mix with a wide range of age groups and life experiences. Females feature in leadership and technical development roles, plus some of the founders are long-term visiting Fellows of the university. Numerous members of the team are also USW graduates as well. The benefits of these shared culture values reflects the importance of choosing the right partner in the first place, which is a theme that features prominently in previous studies of successful cross-sectoral collaborations (Barnes et al., 2006).


3. Shared mission

Previous research indicates that constructive team work develops out of an incremental collaboration process that focuses upon sharing of individual perception, co-constructing a shared perspective and constructive conflict, which enables those involved to effectively negotiate an agreed consensus (Decuyper et al., 2010). This sort of negotiation is likely to be much more fluid when the team is already positioned towards collaboration through a shared mission, that involves practical task interdependence (Pinjani and Palvia, 2013, Widmann and Mulder, 2018) .


The Big Fix Up project propelled the birth of a new, combined business identity through an ongoing process of discussion and consultation. The three founding companies made the crucial early decision that rather than work together ad hoc, they would commit to building a new independent business entity, Fictioneers, and hire dedicated managers and project leaders to actually manage the project and nurture the culture of their consortium identity.


4. Robust communication pathways

As a result of that decision, Fictioneers are led by experienced managers who work across the three founder companies to champion the emerging, shared business identity. Lead project manager Richard Saggers has almost twenty years-experience driving large-scale product innovation projects at Vodafone, whilst product lead Jamie Innes has worked as Design Lead for numerous companies including Nokia and Spotify. At the same time, a significant proportion of the production team includes recent graduates and early-mid career designers, artists and developers. At least one member of the team working on The Big Fix Up has pointed out that this diverse mix of industry experience and youthful innovation contrasts with standard technology company practice dominated by majority staff populations under the age of forty years. Nevertheless, experienced and effective management is a crucial success factor identified in previous cross-sectoral collaboration research (Barnes et al., 2006).


The consortium’s rich array of collaboration tools also support their R&D approach known as agile (Beck et al., 2001), which emphasises fast, flexible, iterative development cycles. Agile was collaboratively developed by a group of people working in the software industry after it became clear that more traditional linear development cycles were more suitable for established production processes. Previously, long planning phases and a fixed development cycle had created a type of fixation on planning documents. As a result of this sort of fixity the results might only be presented to developers, or even clients upon a predefined delivery date, which invariably caused problems when further changes are required.

The agile alternative is basically a set of principles that are designed to privilege:


  1. Individuals and interactions over processes and tools

  2. Working software over comprehensive documentation

  3. Customer collaboration over contract negotiation

  4. Responding to change over following a plan

Those principles include client consultation throughout with a preference for face-to-face communication, short and iterative development cycles that enable ready change as required, enabled by daily cross team collaborations in tandem with a preference for simplicity, that regards working software as the primary measure of success, supported by processes to ensure regular team reflections, meaningful feedback mechanisms and pursuant work-flow adjustments (Beck et al., 2001).

Agile innovation cultures are now well established within software R&D cultures with numerous proven use cases (Duka, 2013, Serrador and Pinto, 2015). Fictioneers use agile in combination with a regularly target iteration cycle known as scrum, which is a process framework for working both creatively and productively in complex contexts that features a regular (in this case fortnightly) Sprint Planning and Review cycle, including team leader strategy meetings to clarify targets, and review timelines. Progress in between these fortnightly review sessions is monitored via the daily scrum, or stand-up, which is a start of day ritual sharing of each team member’s daily work-targets either face to face, or via the team messaging application Slack instead. A fourth element in the scrum cycle approach is a reflective Sprint Retrospective to workshop and address any issues arising. Fictioneers dub these reflective workshopping sessions retros. These team building sessions can include discussion of what’s working, what’s not working and how to address those challenges, or playful discussion starters, aided by team coaches.


These combined research and development approaches are embedded within a consciously designed culture of open communication. Again, this links back to the agile stance which promotes flat, non-hierarchical power-structures that ostensibly value the input of all team members equally. In reality, Fictioneers leadership hierarchies are not flat. There are clear lines of command in place, including not only project managers, but also the sub-team leads, who communicate (or negotiate, depending upon the context) logistical issues and strategy decisions between management and the rest of the teams, whether they be the designers, developers, art team and/or operations. In such a complex project as this which involves numerous project partners, as well as a variety of networked media platforms it seems that management hierarchies do indeed help to ensure swift and accountable decision making pathways. Nevertheless, the management approach does aim to be open. Managers and team coaches are continually checking in with the team, either calling for commentary in open meetings, or opening the development trajectory up to team input in specially designed meetings like the fortnightly retrospective, or weekly product cafe sessions which collate and discuss product design wish-lists in thematic post-it note collections. Employees are also assertive within this structure. For example, a key push to reconsider and renegotiate the minimum viable scope of The Big Fix Up was instigated by members of the development team, rather than management. Alongside this, team coaches also devised artefacts to support safe sharing of these scope concerns, such as an ‘elephant in the room’ post-it note board that they briefly installed in the staff kitchen at one point in order to encourage team members to share their unspoken fears, and complaints about the impending work schedule. Indeed, these anonymous post-it notes instigated meaningful results when the schedule was indeed, duly adjusted in a follow-up team retrospective workshop.


5. A general ethical stance

As our collaboration experience indicates, whilst challenge themes may be apparent even before a partnership commences, it's not always possible to pre-define the exact nature of any particular challenge that is likely to arise day by day. So, rather than try to establish a detailed code of conduct, we employed a general ethical principle or stance. Basically, this meant promoting mutually respectful relationships where respect is the right to come with an open attitude, but also to challenge when necessary, to listen and make every effort to negotiate mutually beneficial solutions to challenges that arise.


This dialogical stance sits comfortably with the philosophy of open agile innovation cultures and was also embedded within our partner ethics agreements. For example, the public facing ‘how-to’ documentation website published at uswaudienceofthefuture.co.uk underwent a rigorous and collaborative internal review process involving all three of Fictioneers’ founding partner companies and individual staff members. In the midst of a global pandemic, we also had to manage the impact of inevitable production delays which meant that the original research plan to undertake a more in-depth, post-launch project evaluation, sometimes called a post-mortem, was no longer viable during the available research timeline. Reflecting these circumstances, we describe the project documentation website as a collaborative knowledge transfer production, rather than a research report as such.


Discussing the realities of creative partnerships in documentary film-making, Munro and Bilbrough refer to this sort of practical research context as an ‘ecology of complex relationships’ (2018: 257) that involve reflexive and discursive negotiations. Citing Ross Gibson’s (2010) discussion of the tensions between insider knowledge gained through direct participatory experience and the more distanced and potentially debatable knowledge gained through reflective evaluation, Munro & Bilbrough (2018) suggest that these dialogical knowledge flows are increasingly common – so the more that their influence is considered the better:


Most of our inherited disciplines in the humanities, the social sciences and the sciences all espouse the dispassionate assessment of carefully distanced objects. But all around me now I see cultural phenomena and interactive relationships that are not objects, not stable or amenable to modelled analysis, not susceptible to distanced appreciation. Instead I see networked and interactive phenomena that are complex, dynamic, relational, ever altering and emergent (Gibson, 2010: 7-8).

As Munro & Bilbrough (2018) also point out, even seemingly inclusive motivations to provide a voice for the voiceless within documentary practice are likely to involve power relationships that both give and frame those interventions. Left unexamined, these power relations can also become intrusive. Open acknowledgement of these issues can at the very least help to manage them.


In this project we were working members of an industry-led consortium, partnered with a dynamic, passionate and relatively empowered innovation group. Our process might appear quite novel in comparison with more traditional, independent university research practice, but hopefully what we have shown through this article is that university collaboration in an industry-led R&D project is also possible. The documentation site, for example, may not include a post-mortem, but it does include rare and in-depth behind-the-scenes access to a unique creative innovation project. The learnings are captured through extensive maker interviews and behind-the-scenes recordings, relevant research summaries and ‘how-to’ analysis, authoritative masterclass presentations from numerous team members including artists, designers, programmers and publicists, as well as USW’s student intern contributions and our own video conference presentations.


Although studies have shown that the rate and standard of academic publication differ very little between specialist theoretical and applied/collaborative research (Salimi et al., 2015), partnership contexts nevertheless demand that evaluation frameworks are adjusted to enable both consultation and shared insight. Writing about community research partnerships, Griffiths (2000) notes that the idea that participatory community projects are open and honest exchanges taking place between equal partners, ignores the likelihood that these collaborations are more likely to unfold amidst a much more nuanced landscape of interlocking, but nevertheless discrete spaces, processes and personalities. One of the nuances that we needed to navigate as the university partners of this Audience of the Future Demonstrator programme was the reality that complete editorial independence was neither appropriate, nor necessarily even ethical in a partnership context. In the next section we explain how these adjustments influenced our multi-layered audience research strategy.


Collaboration in Action: Audience Research

Working collaboratively with Fictioneers’ design team, a series of research sessions were undertaken using a combination of research methodologies namely focus groups, semi structured interviews and task-based research sessions. As opposed to focusing solely on user testing, the team collaborated to devise a layered methodology that was considerate of the research participants. Fictioneers were eager to engage with three key demographics: families, Wallace & Gromit fans, and tech enthusiasts. The research design combined qualitative research methodologies, and creative task-based techniques with industry, user experience (UX), and user testing. As mentioned, these sessions were conducted with schoolchildren, families and students. Between October 2019 and February 2020, focus group sessions had been conducted at Aardman studios with families, with children at a school in Bristol and with undergraduate students at the university. Each session had task-based activities tailored to the aforementioned groups. Our research with families at Aardman was centred on using Wallace & Gromit visual aids (namely a showreel of clips from the previous films) followed by focus group discussion and app demonstration to gain a better understanding of the family demographic and their engagement with augmented reality (AR). A similar approach was taken at the university, however as many of the participants were game design students they were able to offer more comprehensive responses to the app’s usability. Thirdly, we conducted research sessions with secondary school children in Bristol to gain a better understanding of the importance of in-game/in-app avatars. Here we utilised a creative research methodology to encourage the children to create their own avatar using printed assets (eyes, ears, noses, etc) in the Wallace & Gromit style. Acetates and pens were also available to allow the children to customise their avatars. From a research perspective the use of a task-based activity allowed for more creative expression and transformed the power relations between researchers and young participants (O’Kane, 1999, Scott, 2000).


Future sessions were also planned with specialist teaching units, hospitals, and more students, but due to the global pandemic the research plan was compromised and subsequently redirected. As the UK plunged into lockdown in March 2020, people working in higher education and those in many other industries were forced to drastically alter how they work. For many academic researchers, the new social distancing rules meant that face-to-face research was no longer viable. The research design needed to evolve rapidly and find a way of conducting meaningful remote audience research. Drawing on industry experience of remote testing, the team decided to explore the possibility of utilising the software Lookback, a research tool often used in product design that allows users to conduct task-based research sessions remotely. This decision meant that the audience research could be resumed in a way that was safe for our participants. The software allows for sessions to be either mediated by a researcher or conducted independently by the participants. Sessions could be recorded and also observed by multiple researchers in real time.


While there were some initial concerns regarding the remote testing, the research team were able to devise a multi layered approach to ensure that the research went beyond merely ‘testing’ user experience and continued to address issues such as inclusivity, and media technology change. These methods included embedded questionnaires for the self-testing sessions, and semi-structured interviews for the mediated sessions. From an academic perspective, it was paramount that the software was compliant with our ethical framework, and also had the capacity to accommodate multiple research approaches. Lookback was a familiar tool for some Fictioneers who worked in production design, but something that, at the time of conducting the initial remote testing, had rarely been used in academic research contexts. In terms of collaboration, this highlighted the benefits of knowledge exchange between industry and academic. Utilising the university’s extensive network of students, we were able to involve USW students in the research process.


USW student intern recruitment video of footage of research sessions for The Big Fix Up.


In May 2020, Fictioneers offered a series of lightning talks for students on the various behind the scenes research and development tasks. In addition to this, the university was able to offer an internship program for four USW students over the summer. Students from across the faculty of creative industries were invited to apply with each internship tailored to the student’s individual needs.


Conclusion: Yes, it is possible

In this article we have reviewed common tensions in university-industry collaborations which include different expectations, assumptions and languages, as well as divergent motivations, leading to potential tensions between a cultural enrichment ethos traditionally prized by universities and the drive for commercial profit so important for industry. These potential tensions are compounded by conflicting publication drives, schedules that seem to work at odds with each other, and conflicting research priorities with universities emphasising a big picture view, versus a tendency amongst industry groups to focus upon solving the problems directly in front of them.


As the literature suggests and as our own experience confirms, these sorts of challenges may be inevitable, but they can also be offset by wise choices and effective management. Numerous good practice principles for successful university-industry collaborations have already been identified in previous research, the most relevant to our context being:


  1. Choose partners wisely (with respect to experience, stability, integrity, trustworthiness, openness to innovation, cultural fit)​

  2. Commit to build trust​

  3. Involve experienced/adept project managers​

  4. Realistically assess time commitments and schedules​

  5. Establish robust communication strategies, combining formal mechanisms for day to day communications along with informal occasions for team-building​ (Barnes et al., 2006).


A rich, creative collaboration is all about the quality of the knowledge exchange relationship. When that relationship is not immediately intuitive, or even easy it is imperative that there are robust communication pathways in place, along with a commitment to the relationship despite any teething issues and open, flexible communication to help mediate between diverse work cultures. Particularly in the early phases of a professional collaboration some degree of trust and faith in the mutual capacity to broker effective knowledge exchange may be required in order for diverse teams to work together effectively. A shared belief in the importance of constructive teamwork is equally important, as much if not more so than the drive to further the individual interests of team members. Amongst Fictioneers, which is itself a consortium of diverse, cross-disciplinary practitioners ranging from technologists to artists to publicists and producers this shared ethos was repeatedly emphasised in team meetings. Working group leads were regularly asked questions like ‘What do you need from the rest of us?’, ‘How can we help you to do what you need to do?’, and ‘Does everybody understand this issue?’. Complex cross-disciplinary production teams demand effective communication cultures, so as a matter of course, sub working groups were encouraged to consult across working groups as much as possible, to the point that user experience designers even taught themselves the basics of Unity, one of the developer programmes, in order to better understand the workflow and needs of their partner developers.

Working with Fictioneers on The Big Fix Up, we were lucky that a reflective, iterative and dialogic approach was embedded in our collaboration from the start. If we were to start the project over again knowing what we know now about our collaboration partners, the main change that we would make would be to immediately embrace that team-wide professional consultation culture. We conclude by answering the question that we posed in the title of this article: yes, it is possible for universities and industry to work together on Creative Industries research and development projects, particularly when university partner with industry groups that are just as motivated, and equally equipped to capture the learnings of the experience.


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Notes

[1] Full publication of the website is forthcoming.

An interdisciplinary, peer-reviewed and open access academic journal devoted to pushing forward the approaches to and possibilities for publishing creative media-based research. 

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