Philosophical Ruminations on the Art of Videogames
Posted on 1 Mar 2006 by Ethan Madsen
Part 1: On Subjectivity and Value, Form and Content
Let me begin by addressing the issues of subjectivity and value. Depending on who you are, the intangible factors that have contributed to the makeup of your being in this existence, and the resulting worldview you have adopted, you are going to view and value aspects and objects within the world differently relative to another person–videogames being no exception. You may even believe that there is no consistent concept of subjectivity. You may think that there are immutable facts beyond (or without) tautologous propositions or scientific observations, that such and such game is necessarily good and not left open to debate. In fact, I’d venture to guess that most people believe this way to some significant extent, taking into account the innumerable message board debates on the status of games like a
Final Fantasy VII or
Halo. Basically, you value your games, I value mine, and we’ll defend the value of these games until the Internet crashes, thus effectively ending the world.
Though the subjectivity of articles such as this might be understood, it’s always good to bring in to focus the issue every now and then, especially amidst such strong, self-assured commentary and analysis of videogames found on the Internet. With that said, what follows are--by dent of tone--self-assured and brief details to help back-up and approach a broader and more universally agreeable critical analysis and classification of videogames.
If you choose to view and value videogames as potential art, then you might be aware that like other forms of art, some are concerned with more than just entertainment. To say that “some are concerned” is to refer to the designers themselves, but it doesn’t mean that the art is intentional. On the contrary, most art is arrived at intuitively, the artist acting as a lens for cosmic energies to filter through into something meaningful. As far as I am concerned, the same can be said of the perception or recognition of art by the individual, for nothing is art until someone experiences and defines it as thus. It gets tricky talking about and delving deep into the subject of art in the context of anything; even more so when it concerns a fledgling medium. You have to get into abstract and, well, subjective discussions on aesthetics and all that.
Nevertheless, the concern is in how to present the experience and the details to the gamer in such a way that the method of presentation compliments what is being conveyed. This notion is nothing new, having been previously explored in such disciplines as painting, novels, sculpture, stage plays, classical music and most recently film. Most game designers will either be primarily concerned with innovating or they’ll be concerned with creating engaging content derived from existing games. This is to say that most games will either have a stronger form or structure and be less proficient in the details that make up the game, or the other way around. I just got through playing a game that exhibits an intuitive understanding of the potential of videogames as a meaningful medium.
Geist is a first-person adventure game for the Gamecube. The game is preoccupied with varying perspectives or view-points, and the possibilities that go along with being able to see or have experiences from them. You play as a “spectral operative.” roaming around in ghost form with the ability to possess both animate and inanimate objects to further your progress. Perception of time, of depth, and color for instance are affected depending on what perspective you are currently engaged . There’s nothing too clever or complex here, but it’s a start. The gameplay details that make up the game are mostly average, though (from the level design, the story, to the shooting mechanics). Simply put, the ability to explore these perspectives is unique to videogames, for it is utilizing the inherent properties of user-control and interactivity. It’s up to you to decide if it’s the best or meaningful in some fashion.
So, if
Geist is one of those games that focuses on form and structure (innovation) over details, what are some examples of games that excel in elaboration?
Xenogears instantly comes to mind, Square’s text-heavy RPG epic of the late 90s. We are presented with an engaging narrative and inspiring soundtrack for many hours–as well as many hours of random battles. The thing about
Xenogears is that the form or the way it is presented says nothing cogent or useful to us as people that can be carried with us outside of the game’s world. There’s nothing of great value that can’t in essence be found in other mediums. It’s all in the details for this game. The music sticks with me as does the ideas embodied in the story, but the game isn’t exactly fun to play. This is mainly because
Xenogears is heavily rooted in the RPG genre. Genre games by definition are always concerned with utilizing a certain formula, possibly elaborating here and there, paying homage in other places. This notion is especially so for RPGs, the most consistently stubborn of game genres.
Sometimes videogames fail to present either innovation or entertainment. We all know of horrible games, the
Quest 64s, the
Lands of the Dead, and so on. Oftentimes, it’s due to technical flounders more than anything, but in a lot of cases, it’s just due to plain old bad design. Then we have the Miyamotos of the gaming world, the Uedas, and the Kojimas, who are primarily responsible for masterpieces like
Super Mario 64,
Ico, and
Metal Gear Solid, respectively. They succeed in bringing inspiration by creating games that are both proficient in form and execution. Miyamoto captured perfectly the exhilaration of moving in three dimensions; Ueda showed poignancy in interaction and scenario where it had virtually never existed; and Kojima blurred the established battle lines of game and reality. Besides all that, they made and continue to make overall great and fun games even without us considering the form. The presence of a strong and binding visionary force seems necessary to make something a truly great, collaborative art serving as no exception (as demonstrated in film). The funny thing is that quite often these very people will shrug off any implications that what they’re doing or the medium they work within approaches “art.”
There is honestly quite a bit to touch on regarding this topic. Alas, it will have to wait until another installment and more pondering. I’m constantly grappling with a lot of the issues and topics I have brought up in this article. If anything, maybe I’ve got someone reflecting on the nature of videogames more deeply, because I firmly believe that their ultimate value has yet to be understood. This will probably take more time and perspective. Videogames are seeking to come into their own and resonate some kind of popular acceptance and artistic relevance, to become as omnipresent and influential as film is on society. In a way, they have accomplished a substantial amount towards these aspirations. I believe that an artistically-inclined kid from the NES-generation of gamers will come along and lift up the medium to the next level; and by the time the NES-generation reaches middle-age, gaming will be regarded as highly as film.
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