When people learn that I was a film studies major in college, they tend to start asking after favorites. My pat answer is Terrence Malick’s Days of Heaven. It’s a quiet film, one that maintains some distance between itself and the audience.
The thing I most love about Days of Heaven is that it doesn’t batter your senses about. Rather, it creates a space for you to inhabit. And I’ve noticed that a great deal of the art I most appreciate does much the same. For example, take Wilco’s Yankee Hotel Foxtrot. The way the album’s songs devolve into distorted staticky crackles may turn some folks off, but I’d presume that part of the reason they do so is to help sculpt an inhabitable sonic landscape. One that doesn’t push the listener out with an overabundant Wall of Sound.
For me, both these works are like slipping into a hot bath: they engage the senses, but don’t overwhelm. Unfortunately, I’m hard pressed to find a game that strikes a similar balance.
Games, being participatory experiences, demand interaction. They offer a space to inhabit, but it generally isn’t for quiet reflection. Players are both audience members AND protagonists. In fact, playing a video game is a lot like acting in a play you’ve never rehearsed — the big picture is always a step ahead because you never have the chance to determine exactly what’s going down. But does this dual responsibility to simultaneously act and interpret limit gaming’s potential depth?
Furthermore, is there a proven means of critically analyzing games while they’re still being played? If so, fill me in…I’m clueless.
Tags: Days of Heaven, Jenni Källberg, Metroid, Metroid series, Pixelninja, Samus, Samus Aran, Terrence Malick, Wilco, Yankee Hotel Foxtrot
19 September 2008 at 3:35 pm
The above photo came from Jenni Källberg’s Pixelninja: Art and Cosplay. Check out more of her stuff at http://pixelninja.se/.
21 September 2008 at 1:40 am
Tim Schafer one likened a game protagonist to an actor who steps on stage, and everyone there has the script except for him. (I’ve never been able to track this quote down.)
In general this feature of games means that the player need to be heavily engaged– you don’t know what the next act is going to be or the next challenge the game is going to throw at you. there’s always this need for progress
But on the other hand there are a lot of games that cultivate this easy familiarity with the games rules, kind of like what you describe. Animal crossing is a good example of a game where there’s almost this stasis– you had only a few basic tasks (fishing, planting trees, or whatever) and you always kind of knew what to expect.
This kind of game was never– sublime, I guess– the way that Malick’s film or Yankee Hotel Foxtrot was. Soothing maybe. From what I have heard about the game “Flower,” an upcoming PS3 title, it aims for something like this.
22 September 2008 at 6:59 pm
I often liken my experience of a particular work to whether or not it took me on a journey or for a ride. The two pieces described above — Days of Heaven and Yankee Hotel Foxtrot — those are journeys. Something like Requiem for a Dream, on the other hand — that’s a ride. A journey allows one time to explore, whereas rides drop people off at a given destination.
One of my favorite things about games is that they defy this kind of easy characterization. A game will generally offer players a bit of both experiences.
But I’m not sure where I was going with all that, and perhaps it’s fodder for an entirely different post…
You’re absolutely right to suggest Animal Crossing as a game that allows for plenty of time and reflection. If you aren’t sure what to do next and simply leave your avatar free to stand and swing his or her arms, well, big deal…it fits. And that’s a rare and wonderful synergy most games neglect in favor of strong motivation toward progress.
Not exactly sure what to expect from Flower, but it definitely sounds as if thatgamecompany wants to make some strides in uniting pace with player discovery and motivation.
Wow. I’ll have to be on the lookout for that Tim Schafer quote! No doubt in my mind that he’d be able to put it better than I.