Are Videogames Art?

Doesn't the very fact that this question is being asked indicate that, yes, in fact they are art? Isn't that what art is to a certain extent: something that is placed in the public forum to be judged?

I think the question arises because videogames initially were only consumed. A series of neverending challenges. Enemies got faster. Obstacles got harder. Eventually you died. The age of high scores. It was little more than competition. Some were attempting grander things, probably inspired by Dungeons & Dragons. I remember there was a vaguely quest game for Atari called Adventure. You had to kill dragons and go through mazes and get a colored key to unlock a similarly colored castle or something like that. It's pretty hilariously described here. I never really got it. Of course there's the whole ET fiasco. I used to feel bad I didn't get that game, then I found out it was considered the worst game ever. Things fell into place on that day.

I guess, well at least in my gaming evolution, NES came next. Technology allowed a little more complexity. Including an end. Not that I knew what the ends often were. Except (SPOILERS!!!) Contra. Thank you Up, Up, Down, Down, Left, Right, Left, Right, B, A Start. But you see what this gave us? Structure. Story. Games were once more trying to be more. I recently watched my roommate wending his way through the first Zelda game. Wow did that look frustrating. You sense the developer's frustration. "I want to tell a story and all I have are these 8-bit graphics and crap memory." I remember everyone being really excited about Ninja Gaiden. How it told a story in cut scenes.*

This is where a major argument comes into play for me. This yearning to do more. I think a lot of people get caught up in still thinking of videogames as simply product. Something churned out to entertain. But the people regularly playing these games are not thinking this way. There's a respect for the work that goes into creating a game. And the praise and blame begins and ends with the designers and developers. They are spoken of in tones reserved for Scorsese or Pixar. As the creative force behind a large work involving multiple disciplines. And they do. They oversee a huge amount of people. It's not just programming. You have to have a vision to work toward. Think of it this way. You have a character. Do you want his shirt to be blue or green? Programming will get you there but someone has to make that choice. Initially, the choices were not much more than this. But as the systems have developed, there's not much difference in the amount of thought that can (and in better games, does) go into design choices. Playing through Zelda: Twilight Princess, it's obvious that a lot of effort went into desiging the bosses and spirits. And a lot of Miyazaki viewing. I'm sure there were sketches upon sketches. Games need this. This integrity. They've become too complex not to. They would simply unravel otherwise.

Perhaps that's another argument for games as art, that these games are pulling from other disciplines. And well. I'm playing through Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas. Yes, I'm behind. Anyway, the cut scenes are on the whole excellent. The script is well-written. It moves the story forward and creates character. The motion of the characters is remarkable as well. I'm not sure whether they used motion capture or not. And that doesn't matter, because whatever choice was made was the correct one. The movement is incredibly natural. The voice talent as well is top notch. And not just the stars- "Stars?" you ask? Yes: Samuel L. Jackson; James Woods; David Cross; Chris Penn; Ice-T; and Clifton Collins, Jr all lend their voices. But the lead is LA-based rapper Young Maylay. And you know what? He's perfect. Everyone's perfect. This actually shows a lot more care than most animated movies demonstrate by simply hiring a bunch of big stars in hopes a name will draw people into the theater. Meanwhile, the voices fall flat.

The subtlety videogames are able to convey is also remarkable. There's a blind character in San Andreas. It took me a little while to realize that he was blind. I could tell there was something different, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it. But all the clues were there. I had to put them together for myself. It takes the character in the game a lot longer to realize...and that's exactly in line with the character the designers created.

I think a major issue in this discussion is that the people asking the question weren't involved in the evolution. They played Space Invaders and then gave up when games began scrolling. Or they played NES and went to college and decided that those games were a waste of time. And, to a certain extent, they're right. I liken games to architecture: they are both forms that are meant to be used. They are created experiences that you walk into. If we follow this analogy through, Atari was teepees and we're moving into some really nice houses. Mansions. And we're beginning to see glimpses of Frank Lloyd Wright. OK. I don't know how well that analogy holds up, but I think you get the picture.

A major issue for some is control. We as game players are given control and the ability to make choices. Some feel that this control prevents it from being art. Well, I have a couple responses. First, rather simplistically, why not? It's not that new a concept. Performance art makes people the art all the time, but at the same time, what's wrong with having a choice? What's wrong with putting me in the story? Don't some movies seem to be dying to give us that experience? Paul Greengrass's career (Bloody Sunday, Bournes Supremacy and Ultimatum, United 93) is based on this desire. Second, all we're doing is making a choice. We aren't designing the rest of the game. It's really not any different than turning a page in a novel. Or, yes, a choose-your-own-adventure, but those things were crap. Plus, sometimes I'd rather feel like I'm in the action scene rather than simply watching.

This is where videogames have the most to grow. The mixing of action scenes and story. Not that it's a new issue. Sondheim's big development in the musical was letting the songs move us from one point to the next. Choices are made in his songs and emotions revealed. The plot doesn't stop for a song. And isn't a lot of the criticism of action movies the fact that the action essentially stops the movie? I'll tell you that San Andreas does a great job of this.

The big question in all of this that no one's asking is, "What's the end result?" Where are videogames headed? That's the root of this question. The other media art forms, the ones that most of us experience day in and day out, are finite to a certain extent. Think about this. I read or was recently told something I had never considered: the book is basically unchanged since its creation. Someone who read the Gutenberg Bible would know exactly what to do with any book you picked from your shelf. You'd just have to teach them English. The experience of watching a movie hasn't changed too much. But there is no other medium so tied to technology as the videogame. If there's no end in sight for technology, how can we predict what the videogame experience will become? The Wiimote is just the beginning.

So where did this lead us? Nowhere. Because most of the people asking this question aren't playing games. And no one's going to change their mind because of anything I or anyone else has written. But that's where the Wiimote makes things interesting. People are playing who never had. Your grandparents might be on a Wii Bowling league. And who knows where that will lead.**

* Cut scene: If you only know movie lingo, cut scene in videogame lingo means the exact opposite. It's scenes that are added in. Think of cutting from the action you control to a scene you watch.