For a medium that prides itself on always being progressive in spirit, we sure have come to embrace a term that has shackled us down; I am talking about “games”. It’s a term that was a perfect fit in the days of Space Wars and Pong where all you had was an obstacle and a goal to meet. However, these days the idea of what a game should be is limiting the creative process and the public’s acceptance when it comes to games that don’t quite fit the definition like they used to. With Playstation Network having a section dedicated to interactive art and indie PC developers turning out games like The Path (more on that below), it’s becoming more and more difficult, as someone who appreciates the appropriate place for words in the English language, to call these loose interactive experiences “games”.
When I tell people I write about games in my free time, they tell me that I am childish because games are childish. I would have to agree with them: games are childish. If someone were to propose a group of adults at a bar to play a game of Monopoly or hide-and-seek, it could only be thought of as quirky and strange. However, video games are far from childish at this point with many games presenting inspired art direction and inventive storytelling that is getting close to the high standards set in film and literature.
Film, as a word, tells us that it’s something that we watch. Books are something that we read. Yet, games are not something we interact with. Games are something we interact with that has rules and goals—it’s this last bit that is so troublesome. These definitions of film and literature that our culture have embraced have thankfully given these mediums all the freedom they needed to evolve, as there are no expectations that ground them. The same cannot be said of games and we only need to turn to recent reviews of Noby Noby Boy to see that. NNB is the latest creation of Keita Takahasi, creator of the Katamari Damacy series, that presents the player with a virtual playground to interact with in a way where there are very few explanations; the idea being that this is a focus on child-like discovery and wonder. When taken as an interactive experience the enthusiast press and gamers seemed to enjoy it, yet there are reviews like Maria Montoro’s review for CheatCodeCentral.com that find problem that “there's no goal in the game other than making Girl grow, and there's no competition either.”
Ever since the video card wars of the early 00’s faded away, the PC has become the largest conduit for indie developers presenting interactive experiences that strive from the norm. There are two standout titles from this past spring alone, The Path and Judith. The Path is an interesting take on interactive storytelling, which, intentionally or not, directly approaches Roger Ebert’s biggest gripe against games: the players isn’t guaranteed to have the exact experience the creator intended (i.e. a 4-year old jumping in place in Super Mario Bros. instead of progressing through the levels). The Path presents you an open world with no explanation other then to stay on the path, so you can visit your grandma. You can do just this and arrive at the game’s conclusion in a matter of minutes or you can strive from the path and discover a rich narrative that you wouldn’t be aware of otherwise. Judith plays a lot more on gamers’ expectations, as it is a narrative-driven adventure game delivered through what can be easily mistaken for the Wolfenstein 3D engine. Unlike The Path, Judith is as linear as games get. You perform a series of set tasks with the real draw of the game being its incredible atmosphere and haunting story. These are just two examples of non-game interactive experiences that offer something new, but when viewed under the expectations of what a game should be they fail.
I love games largely due to what they can offer that literature and film can’t: a strong sense of discovery, vulnerability, and regret. These are human emotions that can’t be easily summoned, especially in the presence of art (despite how great it may be). The sense of regret I felt when discovering the aftermath of Megaton that I was responsible for, in Fallout 3, was real. The fear and vulnerability I feel in a Silent Hill game is non-existent in similar films due to the fact that I am distanced from the threat. Solving every puzzle in Braid gave me such a strong feeling of discovery that made me feel like a genius even though the game was designed around these set puzzles that thousands of others are solving. I love these aspects of games, and I feel they could be developed so much more when taken away from the constraints of set competition and goal-oriented progression that we associate with the word “game”. Let me leave you with one last example to make my point.
Two hundred years of slavery isn’t America’s proudest accomplishment, but we’d be worse off for forgetting those pour souls. What I’m going to pitch here might sound controversial, but it’s nothing that literature and film hasn’t already explored. What if we had a game where you take the role of a slave on a plantation going through many of the shared experiences that role pertains: attempting to escape, taking a beating when caught, how you would integrate into the outside world if you did escape, etc. This immediately sounds insensitive and tasteless, but why? Because of the word “game”. How can you make this once horrible reality into something fun and goal-oriented? 500 lashings: achievement unlocked! You can’t and even if you could it would be counter-intuitive to the project’s intentions. However, you could make this into an interactive experience that—while still far from the actual reality of these events—could give you insight and emotional understanding of the human experience. Isn’t this why people love films like The Pianist and The Color Purple? So why can’t we do the same in our beloved medium? Games just don’t do that sort of thing, I suppose. So, what does?
