In spite of visitor perception becoming, arguably, the dominant (sometimes hegemonic) issue in contemporary museum studies, as I was looking for supporting literature to help me write this post on the Escape the Museum videogame (Avanquest Software, 2009) I found out that surprisingly little, in fact nearly nothing, has been written regarding public perception of the monetary value of museum artifacts. 'Value' is, of course, an ubiquitous word in visitor research, but usually under the more 'contemporary' guise of cultural, social and political value that the visitor takes from the museum; the immense material, financial value of museum collections, and the consequences that the perception of such value has on the visitor experience seem to remain largely unexplored. Many could be the reasons, although I suspect that the vengeance many museum practitioners seem to feel toward the stuffy, hoarding museum of old, so focused on material value over rapport and community, might play a part.
Research into the topic could, however, prove to be very fruitful; as personal experience, and items like the one I will discuss in this post, seem to suggest that the Value of museum artifacts seems to still hold paramount importance to how 'the museum' appears in the popular imagination.
Digging for diamonds in the museum's ruins - refreshing drinks available
In Escape the Museum you play the part of Susan, a museum curator, and very close I suspect to how the public imagines curators to be: female yet working for a male boss; not very feminine in appearance; generally displaying the hallmarks of nerd-dom. She is humanised throughout the game by her relationship with her daughter, for whom she however plays a dual role of mother-teacher throughout.
The best disaster relief squad - your mom.
She works for the National Museum of History, a hodge-podge of your average natural science museum and a rather old fashioned art gallery - all kinds of museums rolled into one, essentially. While she is taking her daughter through a tour of the premises, an earthquake strikes. The two are separated, and the objective of the game, a rather traditional point-and-click, find-the-hidden-clue adventure, is to rejoin her by navigating one room after another.
At least, that's part of the story. Your boss happens to have a slightly different take on the disaster: he wants you to give priority to recovering the many precious artifacts that the earthquake put in jeopardy - 'only the valuable ones' of course. You (the protagonist) briefly object that, in the case of a humanitarian disaster such as an earthquake, saving lives should have precedence over salvaging the museum's investment stakes, and that artifacts are 'only things', yet quickly cave in once you find yourself admitting that those 'are extremely rare pieces of history', and that they are not only things - quoting your boss, they 'are history'.
A valuable hoard indeed.
In the game's take on the museum world, artifacts are defines by way of two qualities: their rarity and, more important, their monetary value. This second aspect also constitutes the backbone of the gameplay. In between rather rudimentary puzzles for the casual gamer, the player is presented with interactive environments depicting one of the museum's post-earthquake room, crowded with misplaced artifacts: the objective is to find and salvage the ones on the list provided, gaining a certain amount of dollars for each item rescued. There seems to be no relationship between the item and the four figure reward, an amount that is most likely meant to simply represent a lot of cash: in one instance, for example, a floppy disk is worth a whooping $4269. Additionally, most of these find-the-hidden-object rooms are themed, even though no information is given on the items proper, or their relationship to one another. Education and learning are, perhaps rightly so, of no concern to this game.
One interesting question is, what kind of picture of the museum does a game like this depict? and, even more important, is it a picture that could be considered to be 'popular perception'? Beyond its obvious need to function as a piece of casual, lighthearted entertainment, Escape the Museum paints a rather clear image of what 'the museum' is: an old, august building that collects and displays in an orderly manner all kinds of valuable artifacts - 'valuable' for their rarity and price. The museum-as-order is reinforced once the effects of the earthquake are observed, room after room: achronological accumulations of items, which some contemporary museum educators would surely celebrate as educationally liberating, in the game's world constitute instead a moment of crisis, which disrupts thematicity and jeopardises the curators' lifetime of work.
It is, overall, a very traditional take on the museum, at least by the standards of contemporary museology. Heritage is the measurable value of the total of the items contained within, and absolutely no reference is made to the cultural, social or political value of the museum and its content (few and rare concessions to aesthetic value are made here and there, in particular with regard to academy-looking paintings). It reinforces, however, also one positive aspect that the supporters of a constructivist museum would likely agree upon: the endurance of the physical museum as a place of wonder, exploration and adventure. It might not be the intellectual and educational kind of adventure Nina Simon or George Hein would aim for, but adventure nonetheless. It would be interesting, in fact, to explore the similarities between Escape the Museum and educational activities that museums all over the world run regularly.
In spite of all this, I have not found (yet) the supporting literature necessary to definitively assess if Escape the Museum's portrayal of the institution is a convenient gimmick; an accurate representation of them museum in the public's eye; or both. This is also true for many other 'museums in games' which I intend to look at later in time. I await pointers, if anyone has any.
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