I decided to observe the Big Piano at FAO Schwartz as a piece of public interactive technology used by multiple people.
The walking piano was invented in 1976, but got its fame from the 1988 film Big. The Zoltar Machine was actually my favorite interactive tech in the movie, but I have yet to find a real fortune telling machine that can turn me big. So I spent an afternoon with my friends’ kids jumping up and down on the keys of the toy store’s giant piano instead.
Interaction with the piano is immediate and effortless. It listens to when the user steps on one of its keys. It then thinks about the proper note to play that relates to the key, and speaks by lighting up that key and mimicking the sound that key would play on a real piano.
When a key is activated, it stays that way until the user steps off of it. The piano key doesn’t get reactivated the more pressure it is given, i.e., it doesn’t play the note again if someone steps on it while I am stepping on it. This sometimes caused difficulty when trying to play a note several times in a row.
My first assumption was everyone would play “Chopsticks” or “Heart and Soul” like in the movie, but only some of the adults attempted to. It seems there are whole generations out there who haven’t even seen the original movie but know this piano exists.
I thought that everyone would try to slide from one end to the other, but it turns out only a few brave souls did. Instead, I noticed both kids and adults usually hit two keys with their feet at first, and then try to hit individual notes more accurately as they continued to play. They also tend to stay within the same octave, specifically concentrating on two or three notes.
The main cause of disappointment I noticed among all users, other than the 10 minute time limit, is that although the black keys are displayed on the Big Piano, none of them actually work. This reminds me a little of what Don Norman wrote regarding Visibility. “The correct parts must be visible, and must convey the correct message.” Although it is important that the black keys of the piano exist in the design of the walking piano, the designer had decided not to make them actually make any noise, causing frustration to the user. Perhaps the designer decided sharp and flat notes would create too much discordance. But in any case, it created disappointment in a mostly entertaining device.
This device also made me consider reasons why a toy store or any venue would want to create publicly accessible interactive technology for multiple people. This piano exists largely to attract young children to enter the store rather than to try and sell big pianos (one of these babies can be yours for $250,000). The storeowners strategically placed it at the back of the store so people would browse their way to it. It’s there to create traffic and cause people to buy toys, which would probably work on other babysitters with deeper pockets and more empathy for puppy dog eyes.
After the Big Piano, we decided to ride the Central Park carousel, which was actually my first choice for a public interactive technology to observe. But if one were to follow Crawford’s guidelines of interactivity, this Carousel wouldn’t pass.
At one point, this carousel may have had brass rings that riders could grab and throw at a clown’s mouth to turn on lights or get a free ride, but the Central Park carousel no longer has that feature. Therefore, it cannot listen to the user. It simply moves the fiberglass horses up and down and spins. It is as interactive as a rug. But what a fun rug it is.
