Archive for the ‘rants’ Category

I’ve seen a hundred sunsets, and each one was beautiful

Thursday, February 11th, 2010

One of the biggest struggles of the Post-Modern era is the knowledge that everything has already been done.  Obviously I don’t mean that literally, as it’s factually incorrect to say that any given work could be exactly the same as any other work.  What I mean is the epiphanic point at which a creator must view their piece in the context of its predecessors.  This could be as marginal as another person remarking, “Oh that kind of reminds me of …”, or as devastating as a realization of cryptomnesia.  Regardless of intention, these previous works now forever act as a filter through which the new work is perceived.

I called this a struggle, because I’ve found that most people view this issue negatively, and actively attempt to break away from it.  Artists are continually looking for more radical ways in which to express themselves, game designers desire to innovate gameplay that’s never been seen,  and all of this is done with the underlying assumption that “new is good.”  Societies the world over laud and praise examples of “new” art and technology, saying with pride, “This has never been done before!”, while denouncing pieces that are found to copy from existing work.

But why are we taught to feel this way?  Why do we so vehemently seek to distance ourselves as individuals, instead of supporting each other as a whole?  Why do we feel that the act of copying represents a step down?  Do we snub the birth of a newborn baby because there’ve been so many before?  Of course not, that’s ridiculous.  Reproducing a piece doesn’t take away from its importance; it adds to its legacy.  Pushing the borders of a field may be necessary for discovering what kinds of art we can produce, but it’s by building on the foundations which already exist that we increase our understanding, and improve the quality of our art.

If you can't appreicate this, you have no soul

Unfortunately, it seems this goal of true, worthwhile art always comes in second to the need to be on the forefront of innovation.  Everyone is so rushed to be a part of the newest invention in every field, and relatively few artisans take the necessary time to hone their skills to the point that meaningful expression is possible.  And it should be possible in every endeavor, not just those traditionally labeled as “art.”  The Post-Modern artists were correct in saying that everything can be art, and one of the side effects of this is that everyone is an artist.  Whether a mathematician or a janitor, we should all feel that what we create is our “art,” and strive to communicate through it, without worrying if it’s been done before.

It makes no sense to have a Doctor of Philosophy for every major, signifying the pinnacle of theoretical, innovative research, and not have a Doctor of Art for every major, signifying the pinnacle of skilled, meaningful craftsmanship.

Does anyone hear what I hear?

Wednesday, October 7th, 2009

It’s a testament to the workload at USC that my first post since the start of the semester is after over a month has already passed.  It’s enough time, in fact, that I’m posting about my second film project … but only because I’m still tweaking my first film.

The area between linear films and non-linear games is becoming increasingly grayer, with the definitions for each being stretched to their limits.  Many modern games play as though they wish they were devoid of gameplay, and we accept the embedded interactivity of a DVD as a natural part of the film.  What, then, should I call a movie with a rigidly linear story, that can only be experienced in a fragmented way?

Four-Way Stop

Four-Way Stop

“Interactive Movie” sounds contrived and awkward, but I guess it’ll have to do.  The problem is, I don’t think of this film like that, because you don’t interact with it at all.  You merely shift your perspective of the story in real-time, and I honestly think it would be better presented on four separate, simultaneous screens.  The contrast between the parallel storylines is good, but it’s the knowledge that they’re all happening at the same time that is the important point.

This project was a tad rushed out the door, because of the aforementioned workload, and I imagine I might one day revisit it to finish it properly, but I don’t entirely believe I’ll ever have time to do it.  I’m finding an unfortunate situation in my classes:  the projects I have time for I don’t want to do, and the projects I want to do I don’t have time for.

I had almost convinced myself that the first two years of my MFA would not consist of undergrad classwork.

Play me a story

Tuesday, August 11th, 2009

It’s not a stretch to say that one of the most common aspects of games is the notion of objectives.  The player is taught how to do something, and then expected to do it at harder and harder levels of difficulty.  Some people might even try to cite this as one of the definitions of a game.  (The other definition, of course, is based on the requirement of fun, which is equally flawed.)

This results in an extreme example of “the ends justify the means,” especially since virtual media has no readily observable consequences.  The player assumes (often, quite correctly) that nothing they do matters, as long as they manage to complete the objective, and make it to the end of the game (or level).  I could go in-depth about constructing games that don’t allow this careless attitude, but that’s not where I’m going now.

I want to think about using a different idiom: “it’s not whether you win or lose, it’s how you play the game.”  Let’s imagine a game where you always “win”; that is, you always make it to the end, no matter what.  With that prime objective removed, what can we focus on?  Well, naturally, once we know where we’re going, we want to know how we’re getting there, and why we’re going at all:

SoundTrek

SoundTrek

Obviously, this is only one of the many ways we could direct player attention, but that’s the point.  Once we release our insistence on “win”-based games, new opportunities emerge.  I could probably take this game further and develop it, adding more interactions and branching storylines, but it’s only meant to be an idea prototype.  That is, what can be developed from this?

I want to see games where the emphasis is placed on how the player interacts with the game, how they feel when they do it, do they rush or hesitate?  Because once we do that, we can drop objectives and endings entirely, and create experiences that never end; the game will tell a story to the player, who in turn tells a story to the game.

I’ll take my daily dose of win, please

Monday, May 25th, 2009

With the constant influx of new art (paintings, films, books, etc.) being produced at a rapidly-increasing rate in our Post-Post-Modern age, it’s becoming incredibly hard to stay abreast of our culture.  This problem is multiplied a thousand-fold for digital content, to the point where an earnest desire to “stay current” requires such an immense time commitment that it borders on futility.

Furthermore, it’s undeniable that the individual works of art themselves are collateral damage in the mad rush to see all of them.  One simply cannot give each piece of art the observation and analysis it deserves if the time allowed doesn’t at least appear to be unlimited.  Take movie critics as a prime example:  their jobs are based around getting you information on new movies, so you can compare and decide which one you’d like to go see.  This requires a) that they see every movie they can (otherwise how would they be objective?), and b) that they do it as fast as possible (so they can deliver reviews for movies you haven’t seen).  Like an assembly line, they churn out half-baked judgements, without slowing down to appreciate each film fully.  It’s ironic, then, that so many people value critics’ opinions over all others.

"Games will never be high art.  I can say this because I'm a CRITIC."

"Video games will never be high art. I know this because I'm a CRITIC."

This situation is also easily seen in public education.  Students are crammed with multitudes of assignments, instructed to read this or that, flung back and forth between eight different subjects, and at the end (and only at the end!) are expected to retain any of it.  Many a superintendent is probably proud to proclaim that all students in the school read “Hamlet” by their Junior year, and perhaps they do.  But how many of those students took the time to examine it?  To ponder the interwoven meanings?  Just like with films, it’s tragically typical for viewers to look and still not see.

Time-based media necessarily falls into this trap, since there’s an obvious way to determine when one has “finished” it.  There’s a definite beginning and end, and once you get to the end, there’s a feeling of accomplishment, even if you didn’t understand a bit of it.  Static media, like paintings, resist this pull a little more, but it’s still easy to say “I saw the Mona Lisa,” and leave it at that.  The act of viewing is equivalent to the act of completion, because the piece never changes.

What, then, of media that doesn’t have a set time limit?  That is dynamic and ever-changing?  How do we mark a video game as “Completed”, when a definition for completing it doesn’t derive naturally out of the medium itself?  Why, it’s simple!  We impose arbitrary, artificial boundaries.  We give players a score, we give them levels, we give them mission objectives, and we give them title and ending screens.

Above all, though, we tell them when they’ve won or lost the game.  For the act of “winning” has become the driving force for players, the goal they shoot for, after which they know they’re allowed to stop playing.  Finally, they can mark this game off the list, and move on to quickly beat the next one. And the next one.  And in catering to this rushed playstyle, we cripple our own games.  We set constraints for victory conditions, and make them reasonable enough for players to actually attain them.  Because nobody wants to play a game in which they always lose.  Players just want games to make them feel good, to give them something at which they can easily succeed.

Have we  forgotten that “winning” is not intrinsic to the medium of video games?  That games don’t have to be winnable, or even fun? They don’t even have to let you play.

Can we accept games without a way to quantify progress? Where the experience of playing is of itself the point?  There are so many reasons that could exist for playing a video game, but all we can think of is getting to the end.