The discussion was interesting, and it was cool to get feedback from others on how they viewed games in a broader sense. There were many take-aways that I found really interesting, and I may bring them up in more depth in a future blog. The one that really got me interested, though, was the discussion of comparing mediums. I'm going to use the recently released Bioshock Infinite as an example in a few cases, not because I want to single it out, but because it has often been described as the only equivalent of a "AAA Art Game." To many, Bioshock Infinite represents a high achievement in video game narrative, so it makes sense to use it as a bit of a "benchmark" for game narrative quality, as it relates to other narrative mediums.
Games as a Storytelling Medium
A lot of people consider games to be a storytelling (or perhaps, more accurately, a "narrative"-driven) medium. For one reason or another, storytelling always seems to become a primary topic when debating the validity of games as an art form or as an expressive medium. Even though most would agree this is not a mandatory component of games, the current trends in AAA game development, and even a large number of indie games, base their core assumption on the idea that progression through a game is also progression through a narrative. If this is so, which is definitely debatable, there are a few problems with how games currently implement narrative.
Committing to the story as a primary goal
Most current AAA games have this problem, despite otherwise "good" intentions. In all other narrative-driven mediums, the elements of the medium are used to promote the themes, subtexts, and primary goals of the narrative. Yet we seem to have trouble with identifying these elements and their effect on the narrative in games.
Film (television as well) has an entirely different set of challenges from written word, but has learned to utilize the core elements of the medium to communicate messages in a wholly different, yet no less valid, sense. Film relies heavily on nonverbal communication, and cinematographers know that tiny decisions of editing, lighting and camera placement can drastically affect the audience's perception of the film, even if the audience is not "film literate." that is because certain structural elements of film have an implicit psychological association in the viewer's mind. Low angle shots make a viewer feel intimidated, rapid cuts make them feel anxious, darkness in the frame makes them feel frightened. These concepts can be very simple or very elaborate, but the average film in 2013 is based around a fundamental understanding of these narrative "tools." Filmmakers have realized that every aspect of film creation contributes to this "communication" with the audience, and has to be factored in when portraying a narrative that is meant to convey meaning. Often in visual medium, you'll find that there are no "wasted scenes," each dialogue is meant for a specific purpose and every light is placed to illuminate with intent.
In games, the relationship between structure and narrative is much more muddled than in other, more mature forms like film, television and literature (mature as in "older, more developed," not that it contains adult content). Games, despite their tremendous advancements over the past 40 years, still have issues with content, mechanics and whether or not these elements are intended to serve the narrative. Many outspoken game developers have expressed their own perspectives on game narratives and "meaning," including Jonathan Blow, Clint Hocking, Ken Levine, Amy Hennig and many others. Opinions appear to vary widely, but what is most interesting about this discussion is that they disagree entirely on the symbiosis required between a game's narrative and its "challenge component."
At the Smithsonian American Art Museum in 2012, a panel was held discussing the role of games in art and culture. Ken Levine, Creative Director of Irrational Games (developer of Bioshock and Bioshock Infinite), responded to a question about mechanics; "There's a basic weirdness about making first-person shooters," Levine stated. "I think there's a degree of math that people do in their heads," referring to the idea that players are expected to kill hundreds of people in an action game as they progress through the story, which he feels is similar to films like Indiana Jones. "There is generally a skill component," says Levine, "and lots of games have different ways of approaching that."
At its face, this is a fairly reasonable assessment. Games traditionally, since the days of Go or Chess, are defined by some kind of challenge to overcome. Even Solitaire, perhaps the first formal "single-player" game, has the necessity of challenge. The problem, though, is that neither Chess nor Go, nor most of the other traditional, non-digital games, contain narrative. For that matter, they don't contain worlds, exploration, characters (other than the players) are many of the other elements that are present in videogames or even other media. "Games," as they have been defined traditionally, aren't an art form and do not contain artistic or terribly communicative elements. Soccer is not a story, it is an experience to be had. The "narrative" unfolds as a struggle between opposing sides, emerging from the actions taken. Does this say something about the role that videogames should play in culture, or as a storytelling medium? Is there something about games that precludes them from being a storytelling medium, or should we accept that games simply possess dual, opposing purposes, with gameplay and story being separate? Will we always have to do "mental math" to accept mass murder as a component of an otherwise unconnected story in a game, if we want to see a narrative within this medium?
The "Game" Problem
Some of the questions about games are easier to answer than others. One thing worth factoring in is that the classical definition of "game" may actually be a bit misleading when applied to current videogames. Brian Moriarty made an excellent point in his 2011 Apology for Roger Ebert, that if Chess or sports are not considered art, it is remiss of us to expect digital games to earn this honor. This seems fair, and certainly all modern videogames owe their systems of play, in one way or another, to some of these classic forms. Whether simulation of a sport, a mental challenge or game of chance, much of what we see in modern games can be traced back to far more primitive ancestors.
However, considering the vast expansion of the digital "videogame" over the past few decades, it would be extremely shortsighted to claim that every video game essentially boils down to a re-creation of a "Go" or "Chess" experience. In fact, it's hard to argue with much certainty that modern videogames heavily resemble much of anything that has existed before them. Arguments can be made about how well executed the stories are in a game, but the fact remains that games can at least somewhat approximate experiences that can be found in film, television or novels, with the added element of interaction. In some cases, these elements can even be interwoven with the play mechanics, making the gameplay propel a narrative as a primary component of the experience. Regardless of the value of these creations, it is hard to deny that this is being done, and to a degree of success.
Bioshock Infinite may not be equal in depth to an Ingmar Bergman film. Yet, we can see it attempt some things that give credibility to the idea of its story not as a film, but as an interactive narrative. The game seeks to create a bond between Booker and Elizabeth not through story, but through play. Like Bioshock before it, many of the twists intersperse themselves with the act of play, asking you to question the otherwise established notions of interacting with first person shooters, such as death, choice and determinism. More broadly, massively multiplayer games immerse players in a world and mythology, with players spending hundreds of hours steeped in the content in a way that could not be accomplished through linear media. Some games go even further. However, it is clear, at least to a limited degree, that there is some scope of potential for narrative that is greater in an interactive form than in pre-authored, linear media. If all games are purely mechanical or skill-driven exercises, akin to those of the past, how are these elements possible? Is the term "game" really accurate for the interaction of people, the exploration of a space or the discovery of story through nonlinear means? Do Chess, Go or Soccer really have the same breadth of potential experiences as that which we call the modern "videogame," or are we simply adhering to out-of-date terminology due to the origin of the electronic game?
The idea that videogames are largely different from what has always been referred to as a "game" presents a lot of interesting questions and potential hurdles, and it is hardly the only significant element of the discussion. What is clear is that games have contained elements of story, narrative, pacing, characterization, and scripting, and to say this has been completely ineffective would be false. For that reason, it follows that the question is not "can videogames tell stories," but rather, "how might videogames tell stories better?" What might games do to better serve the narrative in their design?
There are many games that are important to consider when evaluating the roles of narrative and gameplay in virtual experiences. It's impossible to go into them all, but there are two that I think are especially distinct and worthy of mention.
Journey
Journey is an award-winning game that transcends a lot of the typical definitions of games. Although many elements of the game are familiar for gamers and provide a frame of reference, one of the primary elements that it changes is that of the challenge-based gameplay model. Despite having elements of a platformer, there is no actual platforming; the game is about loose exploration. Although there are threatening creatures, there is no death. It's story is largely implicit, but is this a requirement of its presentation?Would it be possible to scale this type of interaction to a large, more story focused game, while de-emphasizing challenge elements? Bioshock Infinite removes death as a severe consequence, but still presents it as an outcome of combative experiences. What if Irrational's next title were to move towards Journey, loosely including but not emphasizing the importance of the more traditional "game" elements?
Like Journey, it is clear that Shadow of the Colossus contains less focus on story than games like Bioshock Infinite or Final Fantasy. However, also like Journey this is not necessarily a requirement of its structure, more of a byproduct of the decisions made around its aesthetic and tone. The important thing to note about this game, from my perspective, is that it is a combat-focused game that uses this element extremely sparingly. The conflicts themselves involve very little fighting, relying heavily on reacting and discovering your enemy's weak point. A conflict may last between thirty and forty minutes with only one creature being defeated at the end (also, might I add, without the necessity for death or retrying).
More striking than its use of combat, is the use of traveling and the absence of challenge as a pacing mechanism. Shadow of the Colossus could easily have provided smaller, supplementary combat moments to keep the game "challenging" during the journeys, perhaps with smaller, more easily dispatched enemies to keep the pace. The decision not to do so, however, was so effective that few would question its validity.
Is it possible to take a similar stance in a shooter, focusing primarily on non-combative and exploratory elements as a way to punctuate the combat when it occurs? What if, in Bioshock Infinite, the majority of the game had been about noncombative elements, where you progressed through the city of Columbia with the rising fear of combat breaking out, or you and Elizabeth being discovered? What if the beach sequence had been extended to represent the tone of a large bulk of the game? What would it be like to learn about Columbia's inner social turmoils by viewing real people engaged in tense daily struggles as they slowly mount? Would breaking into firefights feel more uncomfortable, if you had been slowly developing a relationship with Columbia as a somewhat peaceful, perhaps even slightly happy place? What would that do for the game's narrative? What if the "mental math" the player did actually produced a rising horror, instead of comfort, as they realize how much they have done to cause chaos and ruin something that might have been better without their involvement? How could this support the eventual twist of the story? Most of all, does this kind of thing actually have to be a gameplay choice, or could the designer selectively determine where to insert violence as a way of creating an emotional response in the player?
Defining "Games"
There's no definitive answer to the way that games "should" be. The main thing that we should consider, however, is that the term "game" is currently being used to define a lot of incredibly disparate forms of entertainment. It is also important to note that, in many cases, this label may actually be a limiting factor. I really want to play a Bioshock without emphasis on the challenge component, and I'm certain I am not alone.
Additional Reading/Viewing:
My thoughts don't exist in a vacuum, and as such there are several interesting sources to refer to for more discussion of these topics. I highly recommend you check out the following:
Jonathan Blow: Conflicts in Game Design
Chris Crawford: The Mystique of the Loop
Clint Hocking - Dynamics: The State of the Art
Ken Levine Filmed at a BAFTA Q&A
Frank Lantz: Games Are Not Media - I personally disagree with this assessment, but it's an excellent read nonetheless
Frank Lantz: Games Are Not Media - I personally disagree with this assessment, but it's an excellent read nonetheless
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