Fantastic Blognanza!

This is Greg’s initial response to my original post about Video Games as Art:

I’ve wanted to write a post about video games as art for a while now, but I’ve never bothered to fully think through the matter as much as I’d like, and I never really thought anyone would find it very interesting. I found this very interesting because it’s from a perspective that I probably would never have though of, considering how I haven’t been doing much in the way of sociology.

I think a lot of video game enthusiasts jump far too quickly to the conclusion that video games are art. A lot of the reasoning I hear is that video games are simply an amalgamation of stories and visual art, and both of these on their own are considered art, so simply combining the two shouldn’t make it any less art. I also hear a lot of people saying how anything anyone creates can be interpreted as art by SOMEONE, so that automatically makes it art. These people are difficult to argue with, as their definition of art is so broad as to make it kind of irrelevant.

So essentially, you have a lot of people arguing that video games are art based on the assumptions that aesthetics and creation automatically make this so. This is in stark contrast to your two opening points. And interestingly, even though a lot of people resort to this argument, I don’t think they actually believe it. Why do they continue saying it, then? My guess is that video game enthusiasts feel constantly threatened by the older generations and cultural critics who continually write off games as brain-rotting pap. It’s perfectly understandable for a gamer to want his or her hobby/passion/obsession be recognized by other members of society as something more than a disposable plaything. Unfortunately, more often than not (though certainly not always), the arguments they scramble to cook up in defense of games are a little half-baked.

Maybe I’m setting up a straw man here. But I’m saying this because a while back, Roger Ebert wrote an article in which he stated that video games are not art. Needless to say, the gaming community threw a huge hissy-fit. The argument I outlined above was repeated by many forum commentators. Others drew comparisons to how cultural critics of the early 20th century all too hastily disregarded film as a serious artistic medium. A few of the more eloquent gave reasoned arguments, but alas, none of them have stuck with me. Still, just type something like “Ebert video games art” into Google and you’ll probably find plenty of material to keep you interested for a while.

Still, something can be learned from the people who say that “art can be ANYTHING!” Specifically, that the question invariably boils down to what you define as art. And this is as knotty as any question you’ll come across. Does the author have to intend something to be art for it to be art? How much authorial control is required for something to be art? If a certain group calls something art, does that make it so? Or is there some objective definition? Do certain forms automatically preclude works from being art? And what is the audience’s relation to the art? How much do they interact with it? How much of the art is determined by what the spectator brings to the table? The core of Ebert’s criticism of video games is that video games are interactive — this also seems to be a major point in your argument, too, Joe. And if I were going to make a case against video games as art, the question of interactivity would probably be the centerpiece of my own argument.

I personally think that video games CAN indeed be art, but not all video games are art, just as how a film, book, or musical piece can be art, but not all films, books, or musical pieces are art. Just because I think the film Brazil is a wonderful piece of art doesn’t mean I’d say the same about Juwanna Mann. I think video games can be art because the game maker can limit the player’s interaction in a way that maintains the author’s near-absolute control over the gaming experience. And honestly, the author’s control probably doesn’t really need to be near-absolute, even. As long as the game maker can direct the player in some carefully constructed fashion, you’ve got a shot at making some kind of real artistic statement.

Two examples of games that I think come close to ascending to “arthood” are Myst and Shadow of the Colossus. There are surely others, but these are the ones that came to mind. I don’t really want to do a deep analysis of either game; I was primarily intending to just take a quick look at how each relates to the aforementioned problem of interactivity, as well as the concern you expressed in your post about reviewability.

It’s been a while since I played Myst, so perhaps I shouldn’t be using it as an example. Still, my impressions of the game remain fairly strong, so I’ll use it anyway. First, you have the question of how the player interacts with the game. True, you have a wide-open world that the player is free to explore and roam as he or she pleases. However, all the elements of that world are highly motivated, and although the player can roam freely, progress can only be made through the game by following a strict, predetermined course of action laid out by the designers. There is an illusion of choice, but in many senses the game is as set in stone as any film, novel, or song. Now, in the specific case of Myst, it can be argued whether the game makers are actually trying to convey any significant meaning through the gameplay. What I think is more important here is that it is not terribly difficult to imagine how an auteur game designer might be able to take such a form, and deliver an artistic message by forcing the gamer to take a particular course of action.

In regards to being able to review the game, at least for something like Myst, the gamer is practically always free to revisit those areas that he or she has already been to. The world of Myst changes very little, even after the player has interacted with the various objects and puzzles peppering the island. Of course, this isn’t exactly enough for anyone interested in a truly detailed analysis of the game. To this end, my best idea would be to have the game auto-save in a new file before every important interaction the gamer makes with his or her environment. Or, it might just be easier to have an auto-save every 5 minutes or so. Hard drive space is ample nowadays, so I don’t think this is technically unreasonable. (On a console it’d be tougher, what with memory cards and all. The trend seems to be toward putting HDs in consoles, too, however, and 60 GBs on a PS3 is more space than many gamers will ever need.) Clearly, it’s too late for the makers of Myst to implement such a function, but I think that such an auto-saving process could be one way to get around the problem of reviewability in general.

Shadow of the Colossus is probably even a better candidate for “arthood” than Myst, IMHO. Like Myst, Shadow inexorably guides the player down a pre-set path, while still giving him/her the opportunity to explore a truly vast world. There are strong themes of sadness, loss, nobility, and heroism. It was my impression while playing the game (and afterwards) that the creators had a strong, consistent artistic vision that they were trying to express through the form. Shadow was also eminently reviewable in that every cutscene could be re-watched (this feature is extremely common in games nowadays, actually, and so could be seen as a major step towards reviewability, considering how plot is usually advanced mainly through such cutscenes), and that every boss battle could easily be replayed; other than these two elements, the only other real aspect of the game to be reviewed is in exploring the huge realm where the action takes place, and this whole area is fully accessible from hour one.

In a sense, I suppose that I am claiming that video games (at least, some video games) are really just glorified films, and so if film can be considered art, then so can games. This isn’t so bad, though. At the very least, video games allow for something that films do not — they are able to get the audience’s attention for a much longer period of time. Thus, a game can tap into all the visual and aural opportunities afforded by cinema, but demand the same time-intensity as, say, a novel. It is the very interactive nature of video games that allows them such length: an audience that is actively engaged with the work is more likely to pay attention for a longer period time — over the span of days if necessary, in the case of games. The real problem with all this, of course, is that I don’t know of any games that really take advantage of this unique artistic opportunity.

I also believe that interactivity in games can be used to an artistic end more significant that merely entertaining and preoccupying the player to keep his or her attention invested in the game. For example, I could imagine a game in which the gamer initially has a great degree of control over the action, but then gradually takes degrees of freedom away from the user. Perhaps the climax of the game could occur in the revelation that even from the very beginning, the player’s illusion of control has been been only that — an illusion — and that he has in reality been subject to hidden orchestrations and machinations, revealed only at the end. The power of such a game would derive primarily from how the user’s ability to interact with the game changes as time goes on. (A game that deserves special credit here, I think, is Eternal Darkness, and how it utilizes the video game form to create a uniquely eerie experience for the gamer. In the case of Eternal Darkness, whether this is merely a gimmick or a legitimate technique in artistry is up to debate.)

Essentially, I can sum up my whole stance with the statement that games can be “Art” (in my own personal vague conception of what that capitalized word means), but currently very few (if any) are. Furthermore, I don’t see any sort of influx of truly artistic games coming anytime soon.