Errant Signal - Spec Ops: The Line

Recently, I finally had the chance to play through Spec Ops: The Line. I know I'm pretty late to the party but it hadn't exactly been near the top of my priority list until Sony started giving it away for "free." In any case, I played through it and though I didn't find it to be the Game of the Year contender that some touted it as being, it was definitely one of the more interesting and subversive titles I've ever experienced. You just had to slog through some seriously uninspired mechanics to get to that narrative.

I've been mulling over the game in the back of my head and thinking about writing a post about it. I downloaded Killing Is Harmless by Brendan Keogh, a long-form critical discussion of Spec Ops that I'm interested in if only to see someone take such a significant and serious attempt at criticism of the medium. Once I finish that I may take a stab at writing something about the game if I have anything unique to contribute to the (more or less finished) conversation about its themes.

This morning I came across this great video that pretty much canvasses everything there is to say about Spec Ops brilliantly. It's a fantastic watch and I highly recommend it if you've a) played through Spec Ops, or b) don't expect to ever play through it. This is a rare instance where I feel like the general, non-video game playing public should really check out this video on a game, as it effectively ties the game's internal conversation to a larger, political discussion about war culture.

If you truly feel disinterested in video games then skip ahead to the 16:20 mark in the video and just watch the last two and a half minutes. I'm sure you can spare the time and I promise you it'll be well spent, as it's a great final word about the conversation that a military shooter video game is trying to start.

GameTrailers.com: Narrative in Gaming

The folks over at GameTrailers.com have put together a great video on narrative in gaming. It's well-worth a watch if you're interested in the kinds of subjects I've explored here in the past.

GT One-Shot

Also, can I just say that I love where GameTrailers' editorial direction has been moving recently? I'm not going to say it's because Shane Satterfield left, but there has certainly been a dramatic change that's coincided with his departure. Some aspects haven't been ideal (a few of the new, free-form reviews have felt too scattered) but generally there's more varied and interesting content coming out of the site, and all of it feels more earnest and human. For the first time in years the site feels more like a legit source of criticism than a corporate advertisement hub, and it is a fantastic change for viewers.

Repost: Dead Space 3 Microtransactions Break Internal Logic

Ben Kuchera of the (fantastic) PA Report wrote an interesting post about the recent news that Dead Space 3 will include microtransactions allowing players to purchase materials to craft weapons. The article touches on some of the qualities I most enjoy about the Dead Space series, and so I figured I'd chime in a bit here.

Kuchera notes how the Dead Space games have always been particularly effective at establishing and drawing players into a coherent and self-contained world: the menus appear in the game, all information typically conveyed via a HUD are contained within the game world, etc. The point of all this is to more effectively draw players into the world of the game and hold them there. The most superficial effect of this is to increase players' tension by refusing to allow them to put the action on hold while they access their inventory (as was the convention prior to Dead Space). However, Kuchera argues that this tension is but one symptom of the greater immersion that the game creates by forcing the player to participate in its world in the same way as the fictional characters within it. At no point in the game does the player engage in activity that their fictitious character does not also undertake; in effect the game world is constructed so as to force player immersion by limiting their interactions with the game world to those of their character.

The availability of microtransactions in the upcoming Dead Space 3 breaks this immersion via the deus ex machina availability of crafting materials. When players use a terminal they are told they can access "Downloadable Content" by which "A god-like hand is introduced and drops supplies in the lap of the character." This whole availability breaks the immersion spell that the Dead Space games have so effectively established, and moreover upsets the delicate sense of isolation and desperation that the survival-horror genre is premised upon.

The offending intrusion on Dead Space's fiction.

Kuchera's argument is compelling, and though even he acknowledges the nerdiness of getting hung-up on such a detail, I think it's a significant sacrifice on the part of the developers. A big part of what made Dead Space unique was its uncompromising immersion, forcing them to exist in the game world. It's unfortunate to have that quality diluted for the sake of some extra income and a further attempt at attracting a wider audience by dumbing-down the experience.

Tom Phillips at (the also fantastic) Eurogamer has also chimed in with a counterpoint, arguing that the kind of gamers who will be bothered by this feature are also not the types who are likely to use the it. Rather, Phillips argues, the microtransactions will only be taken advantage of by more casual gamers while more hardcore players will likely ignore them. While I think Phillips is right practically speaking, at the same time I'm more in line with Kuchera in feeling that there's a more significant cost to the sacrifice. I don't think "hardcore gamers" will take advantage of the microtransactions, and while I do feel there's a somewhat legitimate argument to be made against their existence at all I'm perfectly happy to simply ignore them. However the fact that they're implemented in such a way as to break the immersive fiction of the series will bother me if/when I play Dead Space 3. From all accounts the menus make their existence painfully clear so as to attract potential buyers, and that fourth-wall-breaking advertising is necessarily going to take away from the sense of isolation and immersion that the series' horror is based upon.

What do you guys think? Is it too early to tell, is Phillips right and are Kuchera and I just whining EA-haters, or is this a legitimately intrusive dilution of one of Dead Space's most unique qualities?

- - -
'Reposts' are inspired by other articles or blog posts around the Internet. They are used here with accreditation as the basis for short bursts of Max's interests.

Ben Franklin Was a Dirty Dude

The recent release of Assassin's Creed 3 has allowed the less historically inclined to enjoy some of the more offbeat moments of America's past, including the eccentricities of Ben "Founding Father" Franklin. Kotaku has put together a video showing off Franklin's rant about why men should take older women as mistresses, and it should not be missed. None of this should be surprising if you've looked into Franklin's history before, but the accurate depiction in a blockbuster video game is likely to surprise a lot of gamers. Check it out below:

I'll have much more to say about Assassin's Creed 3 soon so check back if you're curious about the game.

Quantic Dream's Incredible "Kara" Tech Demo from GDC

In case you missed it, below is the amazing "Kara" tech demo that Quantic Dream's David Cage (of Heavy Rain fame) showed off at last week's Game Developers Conference 2012. It's an outstanding display of the PS3's power and a short but interesting exploration of the nature of artificial intelligence. But don't take my word for it, check out the video below:

What an incredible video. In a scant seven minutes the "Kara" figure manages to raise complex ideas about the manufacturing of artificial intelligence and the responsibilities of their creators; by extension those same concepts trouble conventional notions about the origins and value of sentient life. These are common science fiction tropes that I for one would be excited to see explored in a video game, and especially one by the likes of David Cage. 

Longtime readers (ha) will recall that I was more than a little excited for Heavy Rain.  Although the game didn't necessarily live up to my expectations, it was nevertheless an interesting and unique experiment for the medium. I'm excited to try out David Cage's next game, whatever it ends up being, and this tech demo has increased my curiosity about what that project will explore. If nothing else it shows that he is building upon the foundations he laid in Heavy Rain, both in terms of continuing that game's technological/graphical developments and also improving on its shortcomings. 

One of the most resounding criticisms of Heavy Rain was the fact that it was set in America but voiced (poorly) by French actors, thereby completely breaking any senses of immersion or tension. This demo clearly shows that Cage has heard those critiques and (hopefully) won't make the same mistake twice. The acting on display in the "Kara" demo is profoundly moving, and the mere idea of a game exactly likeHeavy Rain with that caliber of performance is buzz worthy. And I don't believe for a second that Cage would settle for simply Heavy Rain 2. 

Whatever's coming will be as unique and exciting as Cage's previous game was, and will clearly be building upon its strengths and weaknesses alike. It almost feels stupid to get my hopes up all over again, but this demo has me excited despite myself. Fingers crossed whatever we get from this lives up to its potential.

Games As Art: PBS Off Book

Just a quick post to share this sweet video that I found over on Kotaku. It's the latest in a series called "Off Book" by PBS Arts, and it features a number of people in the video game industry talking about why they see video games as an artistic medium. They raise some interesting points, particularly about the meaning of interaction and emotional inspiration, that are great contributions to the ongoing debate about games as art. Plus they describe Portal in a way that I completely hadn't considered but that is so interesting it makes me want to go back and play that incredible game all over again for the umpteenth time. That alone would make the video worth posting, but here it's just a minor point in the larger discussion.

One thing in the video I found particularly interesting was the description of the Jason Rohr's game Passage. The basic gist is that the game presents a world that you are free to explore, but only for a short time before your character dies; in that time you can get a partner who explores with you, but eventually dies shortly before you do. The concept and execution are simple and yet the game invites an emotional reaction by emphasizing a sense of the impermanence and unimportance of human existence. This use of interactivity to present an emotional concept is an elegant demonstration of the potential/truth of games as art, and demands further investigation. I'll see if I can get my hands on a copy of Passage, it sounds like a short but worthwhile experience/experiment.

Games As (More Than?) Art: Reality Is Broken

This isn't a traditional Games As Art post in that it's not about a video game. Rather I'm writing about a book I recently heard about, Reality Is Broken by Jane McGonigal. The basic premise behind the book is that video games are good for us, they make us better people in our real lives. The website for Reality is Broken describes the book as such:

"Drawing on positive psychology, cognitive science, and sociology, Reality Is Broken uncovers how game designers have hit on core truths about what makes us happy and utilized these discoveries to astonishing effect in virtual environments. Videogames consistently provide the exhilarating rewards, stimulating challenges, and epic victories that are so often lacking in the real world. But why, McGonigal asks, should we use the power of games for escapist entertainment alone? Her research suggests that gamers are expert problem solvers and collaborators because they regularly cooperate with other players to overcome daunting virtual challenges, and she helped pioneer a fast-growing genre of games that aims to turn gameplay to socially positive ends."

In the video below McGonigal explains her premise at a recent TED talk:

Jane McGonigal speaking at TED

I won't talk about McGonigal's ideas too much given that I haven't read Reality is Broken yet, and I don't want to purport authority on something I haven't yet fully considered. A post over at Boing Boing seems to have done a good job of that. However, based on what I'm reading the core premise seems completely plausible, and is indeed confirmed by my own experiences.

Given that my parents had the good sense to buy me edutainment style games like Math Blaster and Treasure Galaxy, it seems trite to say that video games can have a positive effect on players. My problem solving and critical thinking skills were undoubtably improved by my enjoyment of video games, and not exclusively ones that were designed to promote education. There's no doubt in my mind that my gaming habits improved things like my abilities to tackle unfamiliar problems, accept failure, and retry with greater knowledge. The idea that such talents could be more effectively harnessed in the real world in ways that make us happier and solve real problems is exhilarating, nay, intoxicating.

I first heard about McGonigal's book via a recent post by Tycho over at Penny-Arcade, and an accompanying comic. While the specific example might not be the best one possible (my hours playing video games have done nothing for my plumbing skills), the point is exactly right: if I can see and understand a problem, there is a good chance I will feel capable of solving the problem. I have spent a significant proportion of my life facing new problems and solving them with the means available to me. The effect that time has had on me is not negligible, and the potential it has created/expanded is palpable.

Games As Art: The Ending of Red Dead Redemption

Author's note: I wrote most of this post back in June but failed to publish it. Then in the fall Rockstar released the Undead Nightmare DLC, causing me to return to the game and subsequently this article.

Note: Major spoilers for Red Dead Redemption

Rockstar Games's recent Red Dead Redemption is a sandbox-style game set in the old-west that players explore in the role of outlaw-turned-family-man John Marston. The game is comprised of a multitude of tropes and images from western films that the developers both lovingly recreate and actively critique using a post-revisionist lens. Red Dead presents Rockstar's most introspective examination of the violence that characterizes their games. This is particularly true of the infamous Grand Theft Auto series, which has garnered worldwide media attention for the freedom it gives players to commit depraved acts. Through Red Dead and the character of John Marston, whose story is explicitly one of redemption, Rockstar directly addresses the moral divide between their interactive fantasies and the often mundane reality we inhabit. Never is this made more clear than in the final missions of the game when players are given the unusual opportunity to reap the fruits of their labour by continuing to play beyond the climax through a sort of "ever after" sequence.

The bulk of Red Dead sees John Marston tracking down and executing his former gang members. Government men have abducted his wife and child and in order to get them back John has to do the law men's dirty work. When players finally eliminate the last of the outlaws they witness the Marston family reunion and then continue to play through a series of domestic missions as the characters begin to put their lives back together. Objectives in these missions include herding cattle, delivering grain, and scaring crows away, all of which are a far cry from hunting down bandits. The real meat of this section is the introduction of John's teenage son, Jack, and the development of that relationship.

Jack admires his father's gun-slinging ways, much to John's dismay. The boy is enamoured with romantic fantasies from the novels he reads, and he wants to "be a man" like his father by going on adventures and fighting bad guys. Many of the missions in this section of the game boil down to reverse tutorials whereby the player teaches Jack how to complete basic day-to-day activities on the family farm. John uses these lessons as an opportunity to try and dissuade the boy from choosing a life like the one he had, explaining that gun-slinging and murder are neither moral nor admirable.

John's interactions with his son present an overt dialogue about the nature of violence and the differences between a normal life and a fictionalized dramatic one. Jack repeatedly glorifies fictional accounts of "heroics" in the wild west, including killing and vengeance like that which characterized earlier sections of the game. The boy complains that the menial tasks of farm-life are boring, and John responds that reality isn't like the stories in adventure novels. He tells his son that it's easy to enjoy exciting tales because they excite the imagination, but that people tend to hate actual drama because it's frightening, dangerous, and unpredictable. John tries to teach John how to appreciate their everyday activities despite their subdued and repetitive nature, and his attempts compromise the final missions of the game.

Through this conversation between Marston and his son Rockstar directly addresses the expectation of and taste for violence in their games.

Virtual Shackles on the end of Red Dead Redemption

The developer anticipates the frustration of many gamers at the tutorial-esque missions at the conclusion of Red Dead, and Jack vocalizes their concerns with his demand for adventure. The boy is characterized as being obsessed with fiction, with his head more in his books than his real life. Over the course of the late-game missions, however, Jack comes to appreciate the value of commonplace activities and (after a close encounter with a grizzly bear) the relative safety of a "boring" life. By the final missions Jack begins to openly critique his father's propensity for guns and violence, and quips that he will write a story called "The Day John Marston Stops Shooting." Johns responds, "I don't think that'll sell, people like shooting in them things," and thereby gives voice to the developers responsible for games so often criticized for their violence.

Through Red Dead, Rockstar actively engages in the moral debate about violence in video games. Never is this more apparent than in the conversations between John and Jack, in which the developer adresses the depravity of the game's content. However the dialogue also draws attention to the differences between fantasy and reality, and the state of commercial entertainment. Rockstar's stance is less a defence and more an indictment of the audience, not going as far as to blame players for the violence in gaming narratives but definitely acknowledging their role in its propagation. The morality and politics thus embedded so deeply in Red Dead's narrative make it much more than just another violent game from the developers of Grand Theft Auto. This discussion is just one more reason why Red Dead Redemption is a fantastic game, firmly rooted in the tradition of revisionist Western cinema and well worth your time.

Games As Art: Roger Ebert Admits He Was Wrong

 
I'm already a week late to report this, but I'd be remiss if I didn't mention here that Roger Ebert admitted he was wrong to dismiss video games as a potential site for artistic expression. He didn't go so far as to say it that games are art, mind you, but he at least acknowledged that he was wrong to write off the medium without "being more familiar with the actual experience of video games." Which is exactly what I called him on, along with countless other gamers and open-minded people.

The title of Ebert's "apologetic" blog entry still conveys a distinctly judgmental and dismissive tone, but I suppose you can't teach an old codger new tricks. If he wasn't such a great and influential writer it'd be easy to ignore him and his dated opinions about video games, like I do with my dad. But this is Roger fuckin' Ebert we're talking about, the dude bleeds film criticism. It's just too bad that he's positioned himself so completely on the far side of the generational divide. I would love to hear his thoughts on something like Ico if there was a way for him to truly understand it. Alas, I'm not holding my breath on that one.

From Around the Web - 4/30/10

Sculptor Adrian Tranquilli elegantly depicts superheroes' vulnerabilities, as seen above.

How do you see if Schrodinger's Cat is actually in its box? This post on io9 claims to know how!

A fantastic essay on the question of whether or not video games are or could ever be art.

Games As Art: Roger Ebert and Final Words on Heavy Rain

Tunnel vision?

Following the overwhelming response to his dismissal of video games as a potentially artistic medium, Roger Ebert returned to the subject in a recent blog post. After looking into the matter further, his new conclusion is that he was right the first time: video games are not art, and furthermore never will be during the lifetime of anyone currently alive. The response from the gaming community has been pretty vocal, albeit not as universally outraged as last time.

Ebert's latest post is written with the same flippant disregard that has characterized all of his public opinions on video games. His responses to Kellee Sanitago's TED talk are superficial and demonstrate that he has done little-to-no further research beyond watching the online video of said discussion. Besides reiterating his original opinion in the comparative context of cave paintings (which he prefers to video games), he mostly argues the subjective semantics of the term "art." He's open about his bias towards film, but then doesn't give video games a fair chance in light of this, instead referring to the financial structure behind the industry as reason enough to discount it as a potential site of artistic work. As though cinema is not significantly dictated by business models and economics.

In discussing Santiago's examples of artistic games Ebert makes it exceedingly clear that he has not played them. His questions about Flower in particular ("Is the game scored? ... Do you control the flower?") demonstrate a complete lack of familiarity with the game. He hasn't bothered to educate himself in a practical sense and so of course his opinion hasn't changed. In order to understand games one has to play them, as the experience of engaging with the interface is equally important to understanding of the work behind the project or the meaning conveyed therein. Judging a game without playing it would be like saying you've seen a movie after looking at a series of still frames.

In Flower you control, you guessed it, a flower petal blowing in 

the wind and try to spread beauty to your surrounding environment

That's actually a point I was planning to make in the context of Heavy Rain. Having played through the entire game and now gotten some distance from it, I want to return to my earlier points about what the game accomplishes.

I spoke a lot about causality and the freedom that Heavy Rain gives the player to make choices and explore their consequences. Having played through the entire game I can now say that the degree to which the game allows you to make decisions with branching narrative impacts is somewhat less than I initially believed. There are certainly an incredible number of choices to make and different endings to the story they can result in, but some of the most important ones are more clearly indicated and binary than I expected. The story is also severely flawed in ways that have been well-documented online.

Despite all of these criticisms, however, I still contend that Heavy Rain represents a significant artistic achievement in gaming. It has many problems, granted, and in a lot of ways it fails to transcend being an obviously rule-based, linear narrative video game. But all of this is easy to say after-the-fact and says nothing of the actual gaming experience. It is in the engagement with Heavy Rain that the game achieves something that I would call art.

In Heavy Rain there are choices and consequences, 

but none of them are wrong in the traditional sense

Regardless of the flawed narrative or frustrating control scheme, Heavy Rain draws you into the experience in a way that few games can. It is incredibly immersive because while you're playing you really do believe that your actions have serious narrative consequences. You feel the weight of every decision in a simultaneously realistic and dramatic sense, and so every choice is compelling. It's easy to criticize the game once you've explored every option and witnessed firsthand its limitations, but in the act of playing the game it makes you feel and consider your options even as you control your actions. That's only one approach to the question of creating art with a video game, but it is a far cry from the winning or losing binary that Ebert describes.

My point is that the actual playing of games is an integral aspect of the medium, and so any question as to their quality, content, or artistic achievement cannot ignore this facet of the experience. If an interactive medium can force you to question and consider our real world existence in any form then is that not art? Again the debate boils down to subjective semantics, but to me art is that which colours human life by appealing to our senses, thoughts, and emotions. It works upon us through the cognitive faculties that give us our very being. I think Mr. Ebert is wrong in saying that video games cannot achieve this.

I have played games that have affected me, made me pause and reconsider my beliefs. Braid forced me to question my memories and thus myself, while playing Bioshock drove me to think about human nature. Through Heavy Rain I explored the nature of causality and the power of choice. These are meagre artistic accomplishments for what is admittedly an infantile medium, but they are important ones nonetheless. They show that there is potential for great things in interactive entertainment, just as there is potential in all forms of the arts.

The lovely and poignant Braid forces us to question our memories and actions 
by using the flow of time as both a plot point and a game mechanic

That the majority of productions are schlock and the industry is dictated by financial gain is simply not enough reason to discredit what good there is or what good there could be. Video games deserve a chance for recognition and in order for that to happen they have to be considered on their own terms. They need to be given the benefit of the doubt, and above all else they need to be played

The debate as to whether or not games can be art goes on, and likely will continue to for a long time to come. I have made it clear where I stand, and will continue to do so with my Games As Art posts. Now, the debate about whether or not art can be games? That's a whole other story...

Games As Art: More Thoughts on Heavy Rain

I don't want to continue talking about Heavy Rain at length, I feel like I've done so enough, but I do have a few further thoughts I'd like to share before I let the subject rest.

First of all I think Heavy Rain is a game that will continue to amaze and divide people for years to come. The more of it I experience the more I want to talk about how different it is from other games, and how it truly is a stepping-stone title in the history of gaming. It simply feels different to play this game than any other game or movie that has come before. It may not be the future of gaming in the general sense, but it certainly has refined a single genre almost to the point of becoming unrecognizable. Interactive movies will never be the same, and that is a very good thing. From now on they will be viable, both as entertainment and art.

I haven't stressed enough the degree to which your characters' mortality influences the experience of Heavy Rain. Knowing that at any point you can cause the death of a major character and change the story rather than end it gives weight to every decision in a revolutionary way. Never before have you experienced this kind of influences to this degree, not in video games nor in cinema. You become at once the actor, director, writer and witness of the Heavy Rain story. In this sense every playthrough becomes your story, your adventure. I appreciate having the option to go back to any moment in the story and replay it, but frankly it's insufficient since each section is so influenced by your multitude of actions throughout the whole. It truly is an interactive movie that lives and breathes with us, and thereby comes to mean so much more both in terms of individual characters and overal arc.

On the subject of meaningful characters, I want to also mention Heavy Rain's gender politics. They are without a doubt problematic, and not quite as forward looking as I once hoped. The first few minutes of gameplay as the female player-character, Madison, are voyeuristic in the extreme: not only can you have her undress and shower, there is actually a set of available commands that have no effect beyond making her stretch and push out her chest. Nevertheless, the game is still an improvement upon general representations of gender within the video game industry.

Take for example the strip sequence I mentioned in my ramble in October: in the 'Sexy Girl' chapter players are forced (at gun-point) to strip for a sleazy club owner. The sequence not only puts players in the awkward position of identifying with the expressly uncomfortable Madison, it furthermore allows them to control her degradation. If the player is able to completely ignore Madison's personality despite hearing her inner thoughts, then they can choose to prolong the scene in order to see more of her body exposed. Doing so is a conscious choice, however, as the conclusion to the sequence is put within reach early on: if the player decides to have Madison to strip further then they are in effect taking the subject position of the club owner who is forcing her to do so; the controller becomes the gun, and the player becomes the perverted rapist. This is a unique moment in gaming where the voyeuristic act is being called out for what it is in terms of the commodifying nature of single-player virtual portrayals of sex. As in all other facets, the game has its problems but they shy in comparison to the stature of its accomplishments.



Anyway, those are just a few more thoughts I've had about Heavy Rain. It continues to be an incredible experience, more so every time I return to it, and I strongly recommend it to everyone. I'll leave you now with a few other thoughts on the game that I've found interesting:

The Brainy Gamer decries Heavy Rain's half-hearted interactivity, and then opens up the conversation for dissenting viewpoints.

One such dissenting viewpoint is expressed at Pop Matters.

A fantastic Contrarian Corner piece on the game over at IGN. This article really explores the game as an interactive entertainment vehicle, and attacks its gender politics in ways that do not align with my assessment above.

A breakdown of the game's admittedly significant plot holes over at games radar. Spoiler warning. This article is the best proof that Heavy Rain is truly more game than movie, and an experience that must be played in order to be felt.

Lastly, the reviews from Joystiq, Kotaku, and GameTrailers that finally convinced me to buy the game.

Games As Art: Heavy Rain and Choice

I've been excited about Heavy Rain for a while now. In and of itself that speaks to the nature of my interest in video games.




Interactive entertainment has always appealed to me as a medium for working out mental problems, both simple and complex, in a virtually tangible way. Video games like Super Mario World interest me in a similar way to math problems: both present variables to work with in order to find a predetermined solution. There can be different ways to achieve that end, and perhaps even multiple types of solutions, but regardless the goal is always clear and within reach. The pleasure you derive is from knowing and mastering the methods of success.


As I've grown older, however, I have begun to look for more from my games. Sure, I have enjoyed throwbacks like New Super Mario Bros. Wii as traditional and nostalgic forms of entertainment. But those types of games are not the reason that I finally invested in a Playstation 3.


Increasingly I am intrigued by games that explore new types of play mechanics and new ways of presenting narrative: I spent the better part of a year trying to play Braid in some form, and finally bought it the first day it was available on the Playstation Network; I played through all of Portal in one sitting while staying at a friend's house, and it remains one of the best experiences I have ever had with a video game; and the phenomenal Bioshock never once left my PS3 from start to finish and beyond. Each of these games sought to do something new with video games, whether to problematize and critique common gaming tropes, highlight new ways of considering and utilizing 3-D space, or explore complex philosophical questions through an interactive medium. In their own ways each could be considered art.


Despite my recent glorification of Roger Ebert I do not accept his stated belief that video games are not capable of being art. I think the medium is still in its infancy but that evidence is mounting that shows video games can be used to evoke complex questions about reality and humanity. More than that I think that video games could potentially explore these question more effectively than cinema specifically because of their interactivity: through this virtual entertainment our choices can influence outcomes, and then we can replay them and make different choices. With careful and mature design this method could be used to explore human concepts in a distinctly human way. I believe that the games listed above, along with countless others, show that we are working towards a time and context when this will become reality.


This week Heavy Rain finally hit store shelves, giving further credence to the idea that video games can offer insight on our existence.


Heavy Rain is a new PS3 exclusive from Quantic Dream. It's an interactive movie where you play as four different characters trying to catch a serial killer in an East coast American city. The gameplay consists of exploration and quick-time events (QTEs), or on-screen prompts that ask the player to press a specific button in a limited period of time. This type of interactive movie is one of the oldest genres in gaming, with roots going all the way back to arcade games like Dragon's Lair. What makes Heavy Rain different from all that has come before is in the way the story changes in accordance with your actions.

Dragon's Lair

Typically in a QTE based game you can either succeed or fail at any given event. In older games like the aforementioned Dragon's Lair a failure results in the end of the story, often as a result of your character's death. In more recent uses of the gaming mechanic a failure might simply complicate or delay one's progression through the game, as in the God of War series. Certain games like Shenmue have enabled players to noticeably alter the story through their success or failure at certain QTEs; these games are few and far between, however, and the changes to the overall story have always been fairly limited.


In Heavy Rain the player is able to dramatically alter the arc and outcome of the story through their performance in QTEs. There are numerous possible endings to the game, and the player's every action plays a role in determining their story arc. Any of the four playable characters can die in certain scenarios, but if this happens the game continues on regardless; the player simply loses that thread of the narrative and the story changes to incorporate the death. This not only gives greater weight to each action but also greater reason for multiple playthroughs, as each experience of the game has the potential to be dramatically different.

A QTE prompting the player to press the circle button

Quantic Dream's greatest achievement, however, is the way in which Heavy Rain incorporates choice as a gameplay element.


The game presents players with thousands of QTEs, many of which are passed or failed with diverging narrative consequences. There are also some instances in which the player is given the option to take an action but where the necessity or desirability of doing so is left ambiguous. Here the player is able to influence the direction of the story with their own choices as opposed to merely their competence at timed button prompts. 




There are already many great examples of video games that explore causality in human existence, but two stand out in particular: Bioshock and Mass Effect 2. 


Ken Levine's Bioshock explores the nature of choice in video games by addressing the fact that the medium doesn't typically offer much. Spoiler warning ahead. The game consists of a series of objectives that are given to you by a disembodied voice over you radio. They are all tied into the game diegetically through a well-structured narrative, but any regular player recognizes them as the prompts that typify video game structure. One completes specified actions in order to continue progress. The end of Bioshock, however, addresses this by revealing the player to be a mind-controlled goon: the objectives necessary to continue the game were all given to the player within the narrative, but it is revealed that the character was influenced in such a way as to make him incapable of acting differently. 

Bioshock

The video game structure that inhibits the player is suddenly exposed within the narrative as a way of critiquing the blind-faith that the player is guilty of. As one character dramatically insists, "A man chooses" (emphasis added), and evidently the player's character and thus the player do not. This exploration of choice in video games is simultaneously an excellent critique of the medium and a deeply resonant philosophical issue. Ironically it does not leave the player with much in the way of choice on the matter.


Mass Effect 2, on the other hand, allows players to import their character data from its predecessor in order to continue the character story they have already begun. More than that, though, the choices they made in Mass Effect are also imported to the sequel, completely reshaping the experience of the second game into a huge extension of the first. As Rus McLaughlin puts it in an article on IGN, "I wrote my Mass Effect 2 by playing Mass Effect 1. Similarly, I'm writing Mass Effect 3 right now [by playing Mass Effect 2]." 

Mass Effect

The story of the two games is huge, and will be built upon by the third entry in the series. The player's actions from the very beginning greatly influence the direction the story will take, but this is largely relegated to branching dialogue and allegiances. The player is tasked with deciding what to say in order to achieve the desired reaction, and their choices take the story down various branches towards endings that are yet to be determined. Mass Effect 3 will show how the grand space-opera concludes, and the player's actions will greatly determine the ending they receive. 


This concept of choice and consequence is explored quite differently in Heavy Rain. While the Mass Effect series allows gamers to experience the ever-proliferating effects of their branching choices on a massive scale (wonder where they got that name), Heavy Rain explores the concept in a more intimate and human way. Heavy Rain presents choices that are ambiguous in their necessity and effect, and none of them are wrong. While each decision in Mass Effect carries the story forward in a specific way, Heavy Rain tasks players with deciding not only which choices to make but also with which not to. Choosing to place one's hand on another's shoulder might feel at one moment like a show of support, but an instant later seem like a sexual advance. The key is in determining which moment is when, and choosing how to act accordingly. Heavy Rain presents players with the ability to make decisions that are not 'wrong' in a black versus white opposition, but may be undesirable or unnecessary or ill-timed. In this sense it captures an essential human element in the concept of choice.





When I played the Heavy Rain demo I had an admittedly lukewarm reaction to the core game mechanics. They simply aren't that fun. But this game is not about the playing in an input-effect sense, which is the best the demo can offer. It is rather about the idea and sentiment of playing through the story and making it your own through your choices. I read extensively about Heavy Rain and eagerly anticipated its release, and now that I own it I can acknowledge both its promise and its flaws. More than that I see what it is trying to do and how this is a unique moment in gaming.


In contrast to games like Mass Effect, which examine branching consequences, or Bioshock, which muse upon the objective-based nature of video games, Heavy Rain explores the nature of human choices. In every playthrough it forces the player to consider the reasoning behind their every action and the potential consequences. More than that it encourages them see them through to the diverging conclusions, and shows how the smallest choices can have dramatic effects. Cinema has shown us countless stories about human beings act in ways that speak to our everyday lives. Now Heavy Rain is enabling players to influence, consider, and explore those decisions to their full effect. Admittedly it's a programmed medium with predetermined constraints, but then so is film, and to a far greater degree. For the first time the human element of choice has been represented in such a way as to really speak to the characters and the viewer in the same instant.


Heavy Rain shows further evidence that video games can be art, but also does so in a way that we have never before experienced. I hope that people like Roger Ebert will give this game, and all others, the benefit of a doubt before they disqualify the entire medium from aspiring to artistic merit. We are in the twilight hours of video games' dawning as a site for real exploration of human issues and concerns. Even now there are companies willing to provide the financial support necessary for games like Heavy Rain to exist, a risky business move to be sure. For that we should be thankful, and hope that it gets played as much as it deserves.

Games As Art: The Auteur Theory and Video Games

The auteur theory, briefly, is an idea from film criticism which states that a director brings an identifiably unique quality to each of their films. Despite cinema's nature as a collaborative medium, the auteur theory posits that there is an indelible quality that the director brings to their output as the 'core' creator. For example, Steven Spielberg makes movies in a way that is identifiably distinct from the way that, say, James Cameron makes movies. It's a complex theory, and worth reading up on, but that's the basic gist of it.

The question is: is this theory of authorship applicable to video games?

Brian Ashcraft's article on Kotaku, "The Search for Video Game Auteurs," explores this concept, and makes some interesting observations. The names of successful developers often signify a consistent and identifiable style or level of quality. Hideo Kojima, Shigeru Miyamoto, David Jaffe, Ken Levine. All are individual developers whose games have engendered consisten respect from the gaming community. On the other hand there are creators like Tim Schafer who have likewise earned reputations as (possibly eccentric) innovators. There are expectations that precede games based on the individuals behind them, whether of quality or style or raw uniqueness.

Some games are furthermore sold using the name of their "creator," similar to the way in which Hollywood uses directors' names to sell their films. This can engender positive results, as with Sid Meier's Civilization IV, or Quentin Tarantino's Inglourious Basterds; it can likewise backfire when low-quality products are sold on reputation alone, as with John Romero's Daikatana, or Transformers: A Michael Bay Film.

More interestingly, however, Ashcroft points out that development studios are sometimes identified in much the same way that the auteur theory treats directors. Fans of games by Blizzard, Maxis, Lucasarts, Quantic Dream all expect a specific type and quality of game from each of the studios. These are not individual creators but rather collaborative entities that have developed distinct identities in gamers' minds. This begs questions as to the reasoning behind the consistencies in their products: is the auteur-esque less a personality and more a set of basic principles? Can their commonalities be explained on a flowchart, and if so is this type of logic extendable to film? Probably on both counts, but what does that mean?

Torchlight, a Diablo rip off?

A game like Torchlight problematizes this identification. Many have noted its similarities to Blizzard's Diablo series, and the fact that former Blizzard staff founded the studio behind Torchlight, Runic Games. So is Torchlight a "Blizzard game" then? Or are the individuals behind the new game responsible at least in part for the Blizzard persona? How responsible? How many former Blizzard staff does it take to create a Blizzard game? Curiously, is Diablo 3 a Runic Games game?

The upcoming Diablo 3, a Torchlight rip off?

The application of the auteur theory to video games is problematic because of the collaborative nature of the medium, but it's actually more complicated than that. One also has to consider the business behind the industry, and more crucially the fact that it is a medium of literal codes. People come together to create something but they do so under a company that retains the overall rights to the intellectual property, likeness, and the code. With this they can give the assets to newcomers to produce something like Bioshock 2. Considering Ken Levine's absence from the development team it would seem difficult to argue that it is 'his' game, like System Shock 2 and Bioshock are. At the surface level, however, there seems little reason to avoid this designation: the game clearly evokes his style, and on a spreadsheet breakdown it hits all the right bullet points. Why not call it Ken Levine's Bioshock 2, both colloquially and commercially?

Because video games are built with strings of codes they can be replicated without any alteration. This could not be possible in film: even if a director consciously chose to replicate the style of another they would still make their own choices as to what that constituted, in both form and content. With video games there is simply the code.

Walter Benjamin spoke of the loss of an artistic work's aura in the age of mechanical reproduction, but the issue is multiplied in the age of digital reproduction. More than that the concept of authorship becomes central when one considers the question, "can video games be art?" But that's a subject or another day. For now I will just say that the auteur theory seems ill-suited to the medium, but then the medium is still young. Things are just getting started.