A Not So Quick Answer

Okay, recently I was discussing the debate as to whether video games can or cannot be considered art. As a result of this, a good friend—and fantastic artist—made an “argument” (used here in the sense that he had a thought other than my own and posed it in a way that challenged, albeit in a friendly manner, my original assertion) that games aren’t art based on his definition of what art is. His statement was as follows:




“I don't play video games, so take this with a grain of salt, but I can't personally qualify them as art, because I'm not familiar with any that were designed specifically to explore or question and ultimately create change at an individual or societal level.”



He then went on to list a specific, and enlightening, example of this sort of thing in comics—the introduction of a homosexual character in Archie Comics—and explained how this had, and continues to change society by challenging their concepts of what is socially acceptable and “normal.”



Now, while I can’t list any games which have evoked that sort of thinking on a level as grand as that, I do not feel that his would be grounds for denying games status as art. First, let me state that my friend was, in no way, saying that games couldn’t be considered art, but that he simply hadn’t seen any games to evoke this sort of emotional response on a socially changing level. However, to me, this isn’t a necessary characteristic of art.



My definition, art is, well, a lot of things. But, to me, it’s the creative expression of the artist’s imagination and the application of creative skills. Not every artist is a Picasso or Michelangelo, not every writer is a Machiavelli or a Marry Shelly, not every composer is…well, you get the point. A work of art doesn’t need to change the world to be art. It just needs to be an expression of the artist’s creativity. And, in this sense, I feel that a great many video games are, in fact, art.



That’s not to say that I think all games are art, just like I don’t feel that all movies, or all comics are art. Some of these are, as my friend went on to state, pure forms of “escapism” and strive to be nothing more than a means to an end. However, I can list several examples of games that go being more than just a package for a few hours of mindless fun. Games that, to me, inspire emotional attachment to the characters as well as the worlds they exist in. Games where the visuals often leave me breathless and push the boundaries of what can be done with the media. Games that tell a story so beautifully that, when it was over, I desperately wanted nothing more than to be able to experience it again.



Games that, to me, are art…



When the original “debate” was sparked, I found an article that discussed the author’s own reasons for why games are art and, while their arguments often got a bit on the long and snooty side, there was a point made that brought a smile to my lips. Well, rather, an example given in the form of the game Max Payne. Max Payne is a game that—at the time—made me stop and think about games in a way that I hadn’t before. Here was a game that was more than just a pixilated plumber bouncing on sentient mushrooms and punching dinosaur companions in the back of the head. A game that existed for more than an excuse to waste a few hours holding a controller; it existed to tell a story. And an emotional one at that. It didn’t take long for me to connect to Max and his plight; to long to see his vengeance for the death of his wife and daughter fulfilled. The whole time floored by visuals and gameplay mechanics I had never seen before and disturbed (in a good way) by the “tripping” sequences in which you lead Max through a vast darkness toward the ever-distant wailing of his baby girl. When you finally reach the nursery in one of the later sequences, there is a moment of turmoil when you dare to hope only to be thrust back into the harsh reality. It’s at this moment where you can understand Max’s addiction to the painkillers and his motives for abusing them.



Then there’s games LIMBO (the title is actually capped…I’m not “yelling”). Here is a game that can call upon ones most primal emotions—feelings like fear of being alone, fear of the unknown, and an undying desire to save the ones we love—all while forsaking the gritty realism seen commonly in today’s games. LIMBO is, in my opinion, a work of art from every possible angle. It is an emotional tale of a little boy who fights his way through an unknown world full of countless dangers and unknown terrors to save his sister’s soul all told with a beautiful simplistic art style which uses silhouettes and backlighting and focuses on mood rather than eye candy. The main character never speaks and, in fact, nary makes a sound except when the player fails a puzzle or falls for a trap and it is here that I find LIMBO truly shines. In a very short time the player becomes unwittingly attached to the shadowy little boy and when he dies—and he does so often and with a disturbing brutality—the player feels remorse and a sense of loss.



Shadow of the Colossus was another game in which the designers utilized simplicity in both art style and gameplay as a way of telling a powerful story of a boy who has his love and devotion turned against him. On a quest to save his companion from an unknown affliction—in fact, another example of the game’s beauty is that there is never any exposition given to the player, only what you can derive from the imagery presented—the nameless protagonist strikes a deal to destroy a race of colossi in return for the help from a group of spirits. As the game plays out—each colossus presenting a unique challenge and majestic beauty—it becomes apparent that the spirits have their own agenda. All of this, of course, is setting aside the fact that the game’s use of minimalist art direction and epic scoring readily sent chills down my spine and, often, made my heart speed up with the inherent danger of what was coming.



These are just a few examples of how games can be art. How the designers, the writers and graphic artists, the codewriters and composers all pour their heart and souls into a piece of work that embodies their imaginations and dreams. How that final work—that piece of art—inspires emotions in the players they are making these games for. I have many more—examples of how games can often task a player with employing their own sense of right and wrong and then living with the consequences of that choice, or of how certain stories are so and intricate that only a game could contain it and only a game could deliver it in a fashion that is unique to the person experiencing it—but, as it is, this went on a little longer than I’d planned and I need to wrap it up.



I hope that I have given a decent explanation behind my assertion that games can be, and often are, works of art; at least enough to satisfy my friend’s curiosity. There are few mediums that inspire greater joy and a feeling of experiencing someone’s creation in a way that is utterly different than most any other, than video games. And, while I’m not expecting this to change his opinion, I hope that he’ll at least be able to approach games from a different angle.



Thanks for your time, guys!



Later!