Despite not being immediately obvious, the activity of making progress in a video game is quite similar to advancing on the piano.

Both activities involve distinct repetition, but also a high level of physicality and muscle memory to master.

Gabrielle Chou is a pianist and violinist based in New York City, teaching in Juilliard’s Preparatory Division. She is a big advocate for new music and chamber music, and just wrapped up a fascinating dissertation on the intersection of play structures and game mechanics with music.

In this interview presented by Robert Fleitz, Gabrielle Chou dives into her research surrounding this subject, and takes the conversation to points around video games as art, game theory in piano practice, and much more.

This interview was prepared in accompaniment with Robert’s new breakdown of how video games inform classical piano for tonebase:

If you’d like to learn more about how tonebase can accelerate your growth as a classical pianist, click here.

RF: Thank you so much for being here Gabrielle, and I’m really looking forward to hearing your thoughts on this very fun and very wide topic. 

So my first question for you: what is your personal relationship to video games and to games and gaming in general?

GC: Totally. So I actually got into video games through my piano teacher, which is totally fortuitous and random. 

I didn’t grow up with a lot of video games myself, but my piano teacher had a Tupperware box. She didn’t have any children, so her students were sort of like her children. She had a box with a Game Boy Color and a Game Boy Advance. I think she just went to the store and bought whatever looked really cool. 

And so if a family came in with siblings, one student would have their lesson upstairs, the other student would be able to dig through the box and just play for an hour. So somehow I had that connection very early on that you would get an hour of piano and then an hour of video games. And it wasn’t so much a dichotomy that one was good and one was evil. Luckily I sort of enjoyed both halves of the experience.

So yeah, that’s sort of where I got into gaming. I just learned as we did when we were young without the internet, just trial and error, playing through all these different random franchises that would appear in the Tupperware box. It was quite magical, I think, for a young kid to have that and also have that connected in a very positive way to music, which again is just a lucky coincidence. Currently, I play a lot of video games. I mostly play RPGs and JRPGs. But what’s interesting is that in my dissertation, I got to read a lot about video games and video game music, even though it wasn’t the topic of my dissertation itself.

And actually yesterday I just got accepted to my first conference, which is taking place in Spain in July, and I’m going to be conferencing in remotely. I get to meet some of the authors from my dissertation research who are big names in video game music. My partner is also writing her dissertation on video game music. So in some ways, games are definitely an escape for us, but it’s also an opportunity for us to learn, observe, and analyze. When we play games, we do a lot of listening, a lot of discussing. Ever since I was young, the way games are constructed, their mechanics and balance, these have been as interesting to me as the content of the games themselves.

{{trip-wire}}

RF: That’s great. You opened up a lot of very cool pathways here. I particularly resonated with the idea that an hour of piano was tied to an hour of playing video games. I had a similar structure in my childhood, so that it was always connected from the very beginning. So that’s a really beautiful story. The next main question I have for you is about the connection you see between your work as a pianist and the act of playing the piano, and the act itself of playing games.

It seems to me that you treat games as another art form, another kind of text that you can interact with. I’m curious what kind of connections, if any, you see between your identity as a pianist, a violinist, and as a gamer.

GC: Yeah, I think it’s interesting because thinking about it now, I usually play solo games. Of course, I play party games and co-op online, but a lot of times it’s me and the instrument or me and the object. As I’ve been playing more, as it’s become more intertwined with my musical thoughts, I notice how I handle certain situations in games versus in practice.

I’m very goal-oriented. When I practice piano, I want to know I’m getting better. In music, you don’t always have tangible indicators of progress. With JRPGs, you see numbers go up—your attack, your defense—it’s immediate feedback. That’s satisfying to me. On the flip side, I really don’t like repeating things over and over in games, like in platformers. My partner pointed out that maybe because I practice so much at the piano, repetition feels like work. In platformers, you repeat levels until you improve, but maybe I don’t want that because I’m already doing so much repetition in my musical life. I prefer RPG grinding because it’s linear, guaranteed improvement. So it’s a funny insight into my personality, how I want measurable progress in games because in music, progress is more subtle.

RF: That’s very understandable. I guess the metaphor you’re using is that practicing piano might be more like playing a platforming game—building skills on your own, repeating until you nail it—whereas a JRPG gives you straightforward level-ups. Could you give a brief definition of what a JRPG is and what a platformer is for the tonebase audience who might not know these terms?

GC: Totally. RPGs are role-playing games, and JRPGs are Japanese role-playing games. Typically, you control characters who have levels and stats, and combat can be turn-based. It’s more strategic and number-driven. Platformers, on the other hand, are like Super Mario Bros.—side-scrolling, jumping, avoiding obstacles and enemies. It’s about precision and reflexes. So a JRPG is more strategic and measured, while a platformer involves dexterity and repeated attempts to get better at navigating a landscape.

RF: That’s fantastic, and the piano metaphor works perfectly. Both playing piano and playing platformers involve choreographing your body, building muscle memory and dexterity. They can be seen as forms of practice.

GC: Exactly. In platformers, you might practice sequences of movements like practicing a passage in piano. When I see high-level platforming, it’s like watching a virtuoso. They’ve spent countless hours refining those moves. I really admire that from a physical, aesthetic perspective.

RF: That’s great. Next, I want to ask about your favorite example of the piano in a video game, whether it’s a character playing the piano or the instrument’s presence in the game’s music itself.

GC: I recall in the Final Fantasy VII remake, there’s a scene where Cloud can sit at a piano, and you can control him to play chords and single notes. People online have made him “play” songs and covers, which I find hilarious and wonderful. It’s not a music game per se, it’s a big adventure game, but they included this extra musical interaction. I love that. It’s enchanting to see musical elements pop up in non-musical games. It makes me wonder how someone with or without musical training perceives that mechanic. For many players, getting to “make music” in a game is novel and magical. It reminds me that playing an instrument still holds so much allure.

RF: Absolutely. Now, could you tell us a bit about the topic of your dissertation, and how it deals with game mechanics and music?

GC: Sure! My dissertation is about the intersection of play and music. The first chapter explores ludology, the study of play, including how we define games and the cultural aspects of play. Then I look at historical examples, like Mozart’s dice games, where you roll dice to determine which musical cells go next, essentially gamifying composition. There are also pieces referencing games or play conceptually.

The core is that I define “ludic pieces,” works that incorporate structures of play or game mechanics into their performance. Some have rules like a game, maybe winners and losers, or constraints that musicians follow, like structured improvisation under certain guidelines. It creates a “magic circle” of play within the concert setting. The audience might not understand the musical language fully, but if the piece references a familiar game model—like “spot the imposter” or “Simon says”—the audience can follow along as if watching a game. It makes performance interactive and socially dynamic. I’m even starting an ensemble to focus on performing these ludic pieces and introducing that playful dynamic into the concert hall.

RF: That’s fantastic. I’ve encountered ludo musicology, but you’re applying play and game theory directly to musical performance. It’s great that you’re creating an ensemble for that. I’m also reminded of texts like Keys to Play, which talk about the keyboard and gaming.

GC: Exactly. Keys to Play by Roger Mosley connects the physicality of the piano with gaming, making these concepts tangible. It shows that practicing an instrument and practicing a game have more in common than we might think, both requiring skill, repetition, and mastering a certain interface.

RF: Would you say Mozart was the first gamer of music, in a way, through his dice-based compositions? It’s refreshing to remember the historically playful side of music-making.

GC: Totally. Music historically was more socially integrated, more playful, and less rigid. Gamified aspects were more common. Today, we’re rediscovering that intersection and reintroducing the idea that music-making can also be playful and game-like.

RF: Great. One last question: what can pianists and gamers learn from each other? Any points of conflict or synergy?

GC: Pianists can learn from gamers’ adaptability, willingness to explore, and embrace of trial-and-error learning. Gamers methodically improve their technique, sometimes very efficiently. Pianists can also appreciate the idea of immediate feedback or tangible progress that games provide. Conversely, gamers might learn from pianists about long-term skill building, deep interpretation, and artistry, not just beating a level. Both have rich histories and can inform each other. In terms of conflict, maybe the subtlety of musical progress is harder to handle if you crave the measurable progress of games. But overall, I see more synergy: both are about developing skill, exploring possibilities, and connecting with a community that appreciates what you do.

RF: That’s wonderful. Thank you so much for taking the time to go in depth on this topic and sharing both your personal and academic insights.

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