The gaming world was abuzz earlier this year when film critic Roger Ebert restated his long-held opinion that games could never be art. Though offending anyone wasn't his intention (and he regrets ever bringing it up in the first place), it's difficult for players and -- more so -- designers like myself to remain unperturbed by Ebert's comments.
Some might logically dismiss the claim as one of a film critic who has professed to never playing games, but that's sort of missing the point. Ebert holds widespread influence (he is "the most powerful pundit in America", after all)... When he makes a strong statement like that, a whole lot of people listen. Sure, he's not going to sway the entire general public one way or the other on the topic of games, but every little bit counts in the fight to be taken seriously.
"Games can never be art."
And perhaps the most difficult part about hearing those words, especially from such a respected critic, is that they force us to take a good hard look at our medium. It's one thing to disagree with his statement in principal, but how how many games can we proudly point out as examples of timeless artistic merit? Plenty, you say, and maybe so... but when held up against the number of games that shamelessly pander to the pocketbook, it doesn't seem like plenty.
The industry is growing up... we're at that awkward stage where we're defining the sort of medium we're going to be from here on out. And we have to be very, very careful about the ideas we're putting out there if our hope is to be taken seriously and, perhaps more importantly, be widely accepted as a new and exciting artistic medium (even in the eyes of people outside the gaming world, which is where we're struggling now).
We're moving in the right direction. That's the good news. Recent games such as Portal, Limbo and Flower were clearly designed to stir powerful pathos within the player (isn't that art right there...?). Even within the realm of big-budget AAA titles, it's easy to find current generation games that strive to provide worthwhile emotional experiences... Mass Effect, Fable 2, and Heavy Rain all pose questions about morality and consequence, questions that resonate with players even after switching off the power.
The most powerful emotions gaming has ever provided me came a few years ago with Shadow of the Colossus, a beautifully sculpted adventure wherein you must destroy sixteen majestic colossi in order to bring a loved one back from the dead. It is a lonely and dreadful task, and as you traverse the vast and empty landscape, it's impossible to shake off a chilling sense of guilt at your actions. And all the while the dreadful question lingers... how far would you go to save someone you love?
This question is so potent because it is not being asked of a character in a movie, or the protagonist of a book. It's being asked of you, in your own life and your own experience. You are the one who decides how far your onscreen avatar will stray from the light in order to bring his loved one back into it. Some players set the controller down and refused to go forward. Steven Poole was one of these players, and he writes about his experience with SotC...
"My enchantment at the kinetic challenge and haunting beauty of the game was quickly replaced by a sense of waste and guilt at my serial murdering of these dumb giants... For me, the aesthetic pleasures weren’t enough to outweigh the powerful regret the game so astonishingly succeeded in engendering. If a game of violence is so effective in its message of anti-violence that you actually stop playing, does that mean it was a success or a failure?"
Games can cause such powerful feelings in a way no other medium can, because of the one feature that makes them fundamentally unique: the direct interactions between the player and the experience. Without getting into the sticky areas of what makes something "art", that they harbor the ability to stir unparalleled empathy leads me to believe that games can be (and in some cases already are) fantastic examples of artistic expression.
Unfortunately, it seems games like Shadow of the Colossus are few and far between. I'll take a closer look at the reasons why in my next post, but for now I'll leave my fellow independent developers with a simple plea.
Take some risks! Push the boundaries of what games can be. If you're striving to make an emotional impact on your players, think about the visuals, the sounds, the actual gameplay... and how you can instill particular feelings in someone who might pick up your game. Especially independent developers. We're not restricted by production pipelines or shipping dates and should be the ones leading the charge towards a bright, positive reputation for the gaming industry.
Prove to the doubting public that games can be art. That they are art.
Thanks for sticking with it...
If you're interested, this topic will be continued in my next post. 'Til then!


1 comments:
I read Ebert's comments--and his follow up--when this was in the news. I think that he should admit that a movie doesn't automatically qualify as art just because it's a movie. Many of them, including (and maybe especially) blockbusters, are junk, devoid of craftsmanship or of any transcendent quality. Somewhere along the way, the concept of quality has to be applied, so that all creations can be divided into "art" vs. "junk." Who gets to make the assessment is a tricky question but doesn't change the fact. So it follows that just as movies can't all be called "art," video games can't all be called "not art." Looking forward to reading part 2!
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