Games As Art

As gamers, we are living in an exciting time. A recent study states that as of 2012, 92 percent of Australian households own at least one gaming device. The advent of smartphones has unleashed a flood of games intrinsically connected with social networks, and console gaming shows no signs of slowing with Call Of Duty continuing to fuel the energy drink and deodorant industry worldwide. But on the flip-side of this rampant mainstream success, a certain breed of independently developed games are gaining traction with a different, perhaps more discerning audience. These games have been labelled with the (highly unimaginative) moniker of ‘art’ games.

This not to say that all indie games are built around a deep and ponderous mechanic or idea. SSJ recently covered the Molydeux Gamejam, an event built around deconstructing these farcically high-minded concepts into simple (and hopefully fun) games. But as far as we can tell from the figures, games sold on the weight of their artistic merit are on the rise.

Aaron Staton recreating A Clockwork Orange during mocap for L.A. Noire.

So what defines an art game? In my opinion, Team Bondi’s L.A. Noire was a work of art. Its recreation of 1940’s Los Angeles was a beautiful (but static) backdrop to what was, in all honesty, a convoluted and cliched story filled with archetypal heroes, villains and femme fatales. However, the performances offered by the actors in those roles plumbed the depths of the uncanny valley, a merit made possible by the implementation of superior motion capture technology that more closely emulates natural human facial expression. Given the technological sophistication of this technique, you can hardly label it is as ‘simple’. But when I first encountered situations where this interaction with (and exploitation of) this feature became necessary to progress, I found myself operating intuitively with the system, recognising and accusing the pursed lips of a liar, or pressing the furrowed brows of a forgetful witness. So whilst the game itself was flawed, I feel it still stands as an artful creation (but not necessarily an ‘art’ game), solely by virtue of its central gameplay mechanic.

Microsoft Kinect: Now also compatible with Shady Jimmy’s acid tabs! (image - Robert Hodgins (2010), used without permission [don’t sue!])

On the other end of the spectrum, technology originally developed exclusively for games is being incorporated into art installations and exhibitions around the world. Right here in Sydney, the MCA turned their facade into a digital canvas using altered Kinect technology, allowed passers-by to create a virtual Jackson Pollock-style mess on the brutalist monolith of Circular Quay. This is obviously not a game - but it certainly could be considered art. I think it’s important for gamers to recognise the gap this is bridging between art and games, and how this might affect a non-gamer’s perception of videogames (hell, the Wii has done enough damage, let the wankers see if they can patch that tear in our credibility).

Shiny glowy things: all the motivation a gamer ever needs.

So finally, to return to the question I asked a little while ago: what defines an 'art' game?

Well, I think Jenova Chen and thatgamecompany’s Journey is a perfect example of art in the videogame medium. Journey is a simple, beautiful game. You are dropped in a desert wasteland, with no instruction other than a subtle direction of the players camera towards a mountain reaching above the clouds, off in the distance. There is little in the way of narrative: a few cryptic cutscenes in between stages are all players are offered, leaving much room for interpretation as to what the game means. The motivation for players lies in just what the Sam Hill is at the top of that mountain, and why your character wants it. Aside from this, Journey's art direction and command of light and colour inspires awe, with swathes of lush, free-floating red cloth and vast expanses of shifting golden sand (thatgamecompany loves them good particle effects). The score accompanies this perfectly, prompting you environmentally as well as emotionally, and sometimes just letting the aforementioned visuals do the talking. As for the matter of actually playing the game, most puzzles are solved using skills that are learned intuitively by the player, as opposed to being taught explicitly in-game. You are no longer hampered by complex button combinations to perform actions as your avatar; you are actually limited to jumping and communicating via vaguely musical noises (varying in pitch and volume depending on the duration of and intervals at which you press the O button). Two buttons and an analog stick. Simple.


I could talk about Journey for 80 pages if I needed to, but I’m sure you don’t want to hear my fan-fiction involving a certain glowing mountain top and its sensual eruption. I think the point I’ve been trying to make with this entry is that videogames are on the cusp of recognition as a valuable and unique art form (they have been for a while now), and I’m sure what I’ve shown you is more than enough for you to believe that. So keep supporting indie developers! Even if what they’re trying to sell you may look pretentious as all get-out, it might make you look at other games in a new light.

So there’s my first entry in what I’m sure will become an excuse to avoid university homework. Email me at ssjoystick@gmail.com about what you think qualifies a game as art, or whether games could ever qualify as art at all. Alternatively, you can ask politely for a peek at my Journey fanfic. Your funeral, dude.
- Sandsky