What is a Game?

  If we're going to talk about games, we need to know what 'game' means.
This is actually a remarkably difficult thing to figure out, though the difficulty is often so exceedingly technical as to seem pointless. Mostly people seem to agree if something is a game, and the common element seems to have something to do with fun. Games ought to be fun. That is the intention.

  Obviously, some games are not fun, or at least not as much. I may, in fact, hate playing a certain game find it is almost the opposite of fun, but will still recognize it as a game because I understand it is meant to be fun. Recognition of intent, regardless of execution, seems to usually be enough.

  This isn't always the case. In a blog post on Penny Arcade, Gabe pointed out that the as-yet-unreleased Spore does not, in his eyes, constitute a game, but instead the parts to make a game. This somewhat controversial assessment hinges, I believe, on the presence of goals. The fancy term for this is telos, but since I'm not shooting for academic cred I'll stick with the simple term. It works just as well.

  What Gabe is saying (I think) is that Spore doesn't appear to be a game because it contains no concrete goals. Now, that is not all he is saying, since such a criticism would necessary apply to all open ended (read: all Maxis) games. What (again, I think) he is saying is that Spore is so open ended as to require goal creation on a scale not asked of by previous games. But, I read that sentence and notice that I'm being vague. I'll use a concrete example.

  SimCity 2000. That was a hell of a game. My grandfather played that game. He was awesome at it. He was in his late fifties and kicking ass left and right. Arcologies from horizon to horizon, all carefully named using Greek letters. Pristine subways. Criminals kept in line by a vigilant police force.

  I admired him. Particularly because I sort of suck at Sim City 2000, which is a weird thing to say because Sim City 2000 has no win condition. It, like almost all Maxis games played straight, keeps going, is 'open ended'. So why do I say I suck at it? Because even without a goal specified, I was able to indentify the goal expected of me. I, too, was meant to create a glittering modern paradise of steel and glass, with massive tax revenues and civic monuments that would proclaim what a totally kickass mayor I was. The (unstated) goal of Sim City 2000 is prosperity. Or at least that's the unannounced expectation. But I wasn't able to meet that expectation. When riots broke out over unemployment (or sometimes traffic issues, because I designed the streets that poorly, no joke) and I didn't have the police force necessary to contain them, I felt punished. I felt like I was losing, losing a game you can't even win!

  So instead I would load up the Hollywood scenario, and watch a giant eyeball monster tear across downtown LA. To give it some help, I cracked open the San Andreas fault and shook things up a bit. Next I kicked El Nino in the ass and soon I had tornadoes blasting down Mulholland drive. I decided to produce another goal: pound the shit out of tinsel town. And by God I succeeded. But no one will call me a skillful player for it. But, at the same time, I don't think I was alone in redirecting the game's goal towards that of destruction rather than civic harmony. Just like I wasn't alone in creating a crucible of trails for my poor, innocent Sims in the similarly goalless game The Sims.

  Every Maxis game asks you to create your own goals and, specifically, your own narrative arc. We've talked about narrative before, and it's time we added a new element to our working definition. It's not just a sequence of events that create a feeling of sense, it is sequence of events heading towards a logical conclusion. That's Creative Writing 101. Stories have a beginning, middle and end. Origin, journey, destination. And we need that destination. You'll read a book or watch a movie you don't like just to find out 'what happens'. We want, we need, the goal. Games, being volitional, require often considerable input from the player to reach that goal. Beating a game is one of the big motivations for playing them. Maxis games require that much more work, and that much more volitional involvement, because you not only have to choose which way to reach your goal, you also have to choose the goal itself.

  This is particularly clear in a game like Spore where the goal is harder to understand that in Sim City. There is a less distinctly understood goal-system for Spore. I, for one, know the goal I'll be setting for myself when the game comes out this September: galactic hegemony. And the fact that this is my natural instinct and, I imagine, the instinct of many others, is a whole other discussion. Another time.

  Gabe is, by my reasoning, both right and wrong. Spore is 'not a game' in that it has no goal, but rather gives you the tools to create your own goals and thus your own games. But, at the same time, games are distinct because they demand volitional input from players, so necessarily the more volition a game demands, the more 'game-like' they become, since they ask more of makes games distinct. So Spore is, in this sense, more a game (more volitional) than side scrollers which provide a single direction (right, the direction in which we read [like we read stories {and also draw time-lines (and let's not forget the fact that 'right' also means correct)}]) to go in.

  So now we have two elements distinct to games and gaming: volition and goal. Without the former, a game would play itself and we'd really be watching a movie. Without the latter, we'd have a toolkit, like a map-designer or mod-maker or even just a programming language.

  The aim of my next post will be to discuss the ethical and philosophical implications of these two elements, as well as bring up a third element of gaming: rules.

I promise it'll be less boring than it sounds.
But that's for next time.

Volitional Narrative

I'll begin my trek towards legitimizing video games by coining a term: volitional narrative. Pretty much any long term discussion requires a certain short hand, but rather than employ secret handshake terms I'd like to build a new vocabulary that any new reader can catch onto.
So what is volitional narrative?

It is a narrative whose content, telling and progression is controlled, in part, by the one experiencing it.

But first, let's start simpler. What is narrative?

A quick search suggests narrative is 'a story or account of events, experiences, or the like, whether true or fictitious' (Dictionary.com) and/or '...a construct created in a suitable format that describes a sequence of fictional or non-fictional events.' (Wikipedia)

Which means, essentially, that narrative is the glue of causality. It describes the passage of perceived time, where events follow one another in a distinct sequence. One things leads to another.

I need to impress on you the fact that narrative rules our entire lives. History, memory, logic and even identity rely on the sequential production of events, one coming after another. Even in the absence of a bridge, a 'non sequitur', we feel it necessary to note the absence of the expected bridge. Non-relation itself becomes the relation between events, and that events can be 'mis-sequenced' points to a steady belief in the validity of narrative. We expect things to come in sensible sequence. We feel confusion if they don't.

Narrative, in short, makes sense. I mean that literally. It produces the experience of sense. This is not unlike the 'cooperative principle' that's so well summarized in Dinosaur Comics. We connect the dots, fill in the blanks, find a statue in the block of marble, always assuming it was already there and we are just putting together the puzzle.

So I'll start by criticizing my own proposed term. All narrative is volitional in that one must necessarily consent to experiencing it, and accept/produce the sense that goes along with it. Not everyone is capable of this. Schizophrenics and others suffering from a so-called 'thought disorders' experience loose association, the practical upshot of which is that the narrative building power of the individual breaks down. Their words and writing don't make sense. And even amongst those of us who are not psychotic, interpretations of any given story vary widely.
Narrative does not occur without our involvement, so all narrative is, to some degree, volitional.
But there is a spectrum. And video games inhabit the far end towards true volition.

What does this mean? It means that video game makers rely heavily on players to create their own experiences, to guide the story, to make key decisions and interact directly with the process of narration. It provides a level of involvement not just in the interpretation but in the actual execution of the story.

Video games aren't the first notably volitional narratives. If anyone scours a young adult library they'll probably find a collection of small white books promising a reader the chance to choose their own adventure. But video games come much closer to the simulation of actual real time experiences, come closer to life experience, and will only get closer. A film can show you what appears to be a real space, with seemingly real people within it. A video games actually lets you move about in that space and converse with those people. They are all of them, even those not labeled as such, simulations, experiences we immerse ourselves in, or want to. And, often times, the better the game the more fully we immerse.

So video games promise to tell us a great deal about our relationship with narrative, and thus our relationship with the whole of our lives and ourselves. What better way, after all, to have art bring out truth in people, than to have those people reflect themselves in that art, to participate in its creation?

And that's just for starters.

No, Seriously

Okay, so I ask anyone reading this to bear with me, because this'll take a little explanation.
First, I'll introduce myself. I'm a recent college grad, with a totally unemployable BA in English. I love video games, and have noticed that, for years now, these games have been delving into deeper and deeper territory, growing more complicated, more layered, with more daring plot lines and fuller characters.

I'm not a visual artist, which is a shame, since the very nature of the video game is that it is highly visual. That the visuals in games can be considered art is a pretty easy claim. You need look no further than the popular Baldur's Gate II, or the fascinating Ceremony of Innocence to see this. Exploring the way in which directly interacting with visual art changes our relationship to it is a fine goal, but not one I'm qualified to chase.

Instead I've been trained in Literary Theory, an obscure, hyper-pretentious discipline ridden with jargon that, all to often, comes in french italics. I love Theory, but unless you've spent at least a full year having it ground into your skull, it's sort of hard to approach.

But it's my goal to use my insular training and impractical degree to carry out my statement of purpose. I'll be using all the tools I've been given, all typically applied to books and film, to treat video games as legitimate texts that raise important ethical questions. I hope to make what I say readable, approachable and largely french-in-italics free.

Ultimately, I want to confer upon the games I examine the well deserved and long overdue dignity that real art, passionately conceived and skillfully executed, is granted.

If you're interested by that goal, read on.

Statement of Purpose

It is my hope to promote and defend the use of video games as works of art.

It is my belief that interactive media open new boundaries for ethical exploration.

It is my mission to enrich the experience of gaming with honest, in depth intellectual inquiry.