Editor's note: This week's entry in the never-ending, ever-loving "games as Art" discussion comes courtesy of Suriel, who argues that narrative isn't really the right measuring stick for games. At least, not for games...as ART! -Demian

"Games are not novels, and the ways in which they harbor novelistic aspirations are invariably the least interesting thing about them. You can judge games by the criteria designed to evaluate novels: Are the characters believable? Is the dialogue complex? But inevitably, the games will come up wanting. Games are good at novelistic storytelling the way Michael Jordan was good at playing baseball. Both could probably make a living at it, but their world-class talents lie elsewhere."

While Steven Johnson champions the cognitive merits of video games in his book Everything Bad Is Good For You, he makes clear his estimation of their storytelling abilities: they suck. He doesn't say that a lack of narrative capabilities impedes them, though; He simply asserts that telling stories just isn't their thing.

Now, I don't know if Steven Johnson is aware of the "games as Art" crowd, but most of them would disagree. To them, games have the largest potential for storytelling of any medium, in no small part because of their interactive nature. You aren't an observer of the events on-screen; you're their catalyst.

And because of the player's ability to influence events in the game world, and in turn determine the outcome of the story (theoretically speaking, of course, because anyone who's played games for a while will know that most of the time, the player is simply triggering a series of linear events), the sense of immersion this can create is unmatched by the other "passive" mediums.

As I see it, this view is somewhat skewed. While those sentiments are most certainly true, we tend to re-hash our most convincing arguments (Braid, Bioshock, Portal, etc.) for our medium's status as an art form. Whether it be the writing, the layered narrative, or the atmosphere that these games so plentifully provide, these games always seem to be at the head of the discussion whenever someone challenges the cultural relevancy of our favorite pastime.

And I believe this isn't doing us any favors.

Or rather, that this strand of argument is counter intuitive to what our cause is (or should be). By pushing the games that we believe are art because of their narrative capabilities, we're sending the message that games are just trying to be a new form of novels or movies; a vehicle to drive emotion through story. And we're doing a disservice to the games that don't focus on story aspects.

Games certainly do have the potential to tell stories in thoughtful and meaningful ways, but a game doesn't have to pull us in with its awe-inspiring narrative to be "culturally relevant," and for the most part, history has proven this to be true. The games that break through to the mainstream are usually the ones that the most people play (obviously), and the games that the most people play usually happen to be the ones that are the most fun.

Halo, Call of Duty 4, Gears of War, and Madden are popular because of their replay value and intense multiplayer. Likewise, the Wii is popular because of its ease of use, lasting value, and family-centric/self-betterment focus.

Of course, I'm not arguing that games should just abandon narrative aspirations; I've definitely had my share of games that I've completed simply to see the story through. But games are narratively deficient by nature. Most of the time, the story in a game serves as backdrop for your actions, context that allows players to more easily suspend their disbelief.

This is because the focus of most games is the actions themselves. This is where games, to me, are an art form; this what Johnson would refer to as their "basketball." What captivates players is the thought process they engage in while playing the game, as well as the feeling of tangible reward and progress, and the feeling of immersion.

In a game like Call of Duty, for example, the player can have any number of concepts to juggle, from direct actions (looking for and aiming at enemies) to more strategic and abstract decisions (when and where to launch an air-strike). Smart decision-making and good execution may earn the reward of a 7-kill streak, and the feeling of what it might be like to be a skilled soldier.

It seems like most developers use narrative simply to build a convincing framework for what the player is doing in-game. The ones that attempt to tell more meaningful stories through this interactivity are laudable, because better frameworks provide a greater sense of connection to a player's actions. But the interactive format presents unique challenges to storytellers -- traditional narrative tools like exposition and character development suddenly require very creative (and therefore difficult) solutions.

Metal Gear Solid 4 earned mixed reactions to its elements of traditional, cinematic storytelling. The long, explanatory cutscenes delivered the game's story, but seemed at odds with its revamped and improved gameplay. Players are players -- they expect to interact, not observe.

At the same time, when games intertwine narrative delivery with gameplay (Bioshock, Half-Life), they have the potential to more effectively immerse the player, but also sacrifice the depth that multiple perspectives and angles can provide.

Writers for games face yet another challenge -- they're second-string players. If a particular section of a game has to be cut or changed, the story must follow. Starcraft 2 Lead Designer Dustin Browder mentions that Blizzard is not shy about changing the lore to fit the needs of gameplay.

So when we present games that have strong stories as arguments for the artistic value of games, it's not surprising that naysayers scoff -- only a small handful of games actually deliver. And consider the far smaller percentage of games that are designed as narrative experiences first and foremost, such as Passage -- it is indeed possible for a game to illicit a strong emotional response. But presenting that example seems to concede the critics' point: Games must become less like games and more "interactive art" to be culturally relevant.

Instead, I suggest that we fearlessly flaunt the games with the most captivating gameplay rather than the most compelling story. Sure, the writing in Gears of War will never win any awards (unless they're dubious), but the game has received awards for its refined and strategic gameplay. This is how games will makes themselves relevant: by mastering their own domains, not by mimicking the traits of others.