Graphics might be one of the biggest stunts videogames have ever pulled. There’s nothing to complain about with better looking videogames, but there’s also something to be said for style rather than realism. Videogames are typically beautiful due to their lack of realism, and videogames that move towards realism often simply show how ridiculous they often are. Though an often complained about subject, gritty realism isn’t a problem, it’s just a solution nobody was asking for. Effectively, these videogames are attempting to show a part of reality they are fairly unsuited for, such as war, violence, race, sex, and other heavy subject matter which typically don’t belong in the videogames they are situated in. They are placed in a space they simply aren’t ready for.
Videogames still aren’t ready for graphic realism, because graphic realism isn’t something videogames, or even most tech demos, can readily attain. Creating these sorts of scenarios, while at times beautiful, often misses the stylized concepts they are born from, instead opting to reach towards realism, as though it were a boon to creating subject matter with impact. The result is often stilted and creates unreasonable expectations within the medium, and has led to a bit too much cinematic flair, as well as lots of issues with Simon Says. Videogames never really needed these things, but instead have opted for them in order to look a certain way, rather than interact a certain way. The result is a lot of elements with disparity in relation to other elements.
The question videogames should be asking are highly relative, but tend to relate to what the game is trying to let the player do, rather than what the game wants to let the player see. Players will always have different ways of seeing a videogame, but interaction is the golden rule. People play videogames to play with a certain experience. Thinking of a videogame like a Rubik’s Cube, where players are puzzling the pieces together, is a manner in which most videogames can be considered. The answers will often be different, but the goal is common and semi-setup by the game developer. The developer walks a line, often finicky, between too much and too little control, but perhaps the fondness which many players remember old videogames is precisely for their broken realities.
Metroid is perhaps one of the most well known games as a result of how broken its code is, with the mystery “secret world” still captivating players decades after the videogame has passed from popular conversation. In a sense, glitches and bugs, or even the appearance of glitches and bugs, create a fascinating sense of mystery about a videogame, as if the code itself is a living, breathing entity. The strangeness with which these bugs exist is one of the most explored, and yet still most mystifying pieces of the videogame puzzle. A videogame needs a sense of life which has timeless mystery, many parts which may continually be rediscovered.
Dark Souls, Ogre Battle: The March of the Black Queen evoke mystery. Street Fighter II evokes mystery. Mystery evokes a drive to explore and rediscover. Columbus didn’t sail a ship thousands of miles just because they wished to find a shorter route to the west indies, they also sailed because there was a space in-between. Videogames then, and especially old games with their old problems, evoke some of the most considerable mystery of all, because they often tell you little, yet show you more than you imagined. Even if one could show the secret worlds of Metroid, it would not make them less alien. The videogame itself is a story of aliens, a story of an alien world, with the player-as-writer.
As the writer, the player seeks to make their mark on a virtual territory. The fascination with online videogames is precisely thus. The exploration of a space which is left wild, and which can never be truly tamed, instead only made more relative. The experience of interaction is the strength of virtual exploration, a discovery of how to explore, and the goals of the world versus the goals of the explorer within that world. At large, the player rarely needs to be told to go and explore, it is a natural curiosity. In many ways the internet, and our own fear and drive towards perfection, limit the ability to be lost in virtual territory. In some sense the player is at fault here, seeking comfort over content, in others the publishers are at fault, seeking to profit ever more from their created virtualizations. In the end, the player makes a decision to get lost, and the designer makes a decision to allow it, or to point the way. One is riskier, one is safer, but the allowance is always satisfying, preventing a world from stagnation.
Publisher:Stephen Keating On:
Category:Articles and tagged Dark Souls, game design, Metroid, ogre battle, videogames, virtual worlds Full Text:Link
Videogames are associated with the visual arts, certainly, but are perhaps closest to architecture in reality. While a videogame may or may not include actual visual feedback, the essence of a videogame is built on kinetic feedback, a necessity of our own to function. The understanding of how we interact with architecture, and for that matter, how expect the world to interact, is based entirely on the concept of structures. The concept of reality brought into videogames is, while a daring endeavor, rather problematic.
In the past, the purpose of attempting to computationally approach photorealism was entirely based on the concept that the world, in some representative fashion, is the apex of information, and thus being able to realistically simulate the world would bring about unparalleled advancements. To a certain extent the concept became true, as the physics engines developed for videogames have been used in science and research, and certainly have a valuable functional depth. But here’s the rub: videogames approaching photorealism also meant they started to have to live up to expectations of reality. Simulating common visual qualities however, is extraordinarily difficult due to our own familiarity with similar associational objects. Weapons would perhaps be the most readily available association in the history of videogames.
Herein lies the basic problem with 3D games attempting to approach photorealism. When attempting to emulate something the human mind has already tied intimate connections, even the slightest altercation feels awkward. Certainly the uncanny valley is the height of creepiness, but it’s mostly because of the fact that the valley approaches being human, but is off in slight ways so as to make us naturally wary. However, it makes us wary because what we are seeing is us reflected in an uncanny manner.
While we don’t get the same awkward feeling about the rest of a 3D environment, because of that keen sense of an emulated, specific-to-reality type, we are aware of associational disconnections. Part of that disconnection is because we tend to ignore associational objects in reality, but part of it is also sublimation of the false reality. Effectively, while we are still very aware that 3D grass looks nothing like actual grass, it’s still acceptable, despite a keen awareness of its emulation, rather than simulation. The problem is that the grass is intended to look real, rather than artistic, just as the characters are intended to look real. Here we see the problem perhaps in the videogame community, where visuals begin to be equated to their fidelity in relationship to reality or to previous technical achievements. Such a problem degrades the substantive use of the architecture.
When we start thinking in such a manner, videogames begin to go backwards and become little more than processing power and acronyms for visual fidelity. However, videogames as architecture do not necessitate such thinking. What is beautiful about architecture is the thought that went into the design, not how many computer-aided drafting students it took to design it. Videogames as architecture is oft overlooked in favor of powering such previously stated visual fidelity, and as such is a significant blow to creativity, as videogames themselves cost exponentially more to look better in 3D environment, and looking good is often mistaken for being good. However, it is the content of the structure that we will interact with, not its facade.
As architecture, videogames necessitate a good builder, an individual to give space purpose and actions structure. Their intent is rarely to be the best or the biggest or brightest, but instead are oft respected for being different. Though the idea of making houses which no one will or can live in might seem rather trite, there is a certain interesting consideration necessary to constructing monuments, just as much as there is to a bathroom. Even though these environments and prefaces are plain, they serve a vital consideration necessary for videogames to move forward. Videogames are aided by visual, audial, and narrative complexity, but they are not its foci. Designing a videogame is not nearly so much about being an excellent programmer (it will certainly help), but about clearly presenting an interesting interactive idea through architecture.
Publisher:Stephen Keating On:
Category:Articles and tagged 3D, architecture, videogames, visual direction Full Text:Link
There’s been a lot of commentary lately about the next generation of videogames, about problems relating to the supposed failures of the generation, to accusations and speculation that the used videogame market is supposedly going to disappear, even to criticism that games today aren’t what they used to be in the past. To a certain extent these things are already happening, but there is certainly a more cynical flavor to videogames and their future at the moment. Part of the reality is a slow burnout occurring within the videogame industry, where momentum and grandeur are no longer living up to consumer expectations. In short, videogames have reached a point where they are all blips, from the most fantastic success to the worst type of failure.
Part of such brightly burning stars is how quickly they flicker out of existence, and unfortunately such a state of affairs seems contingent on making games, big budgets or no. The reason is largely a reaction to a lack of critical commentary and the constantly evolving internet sensation idea, where what matters is generating response, rather than meaningful discourse. Essentially, even those who break into the conversation are rarely able to stay there, due to the nature of established hyper-immediacy we now live in as a result of irrevocable interconnectedness. The result is a conversation where a lot is said, promises are established, and expectations are always too far ahead of themselves.
The reason perhaps older videogames tend to elicit such nostalgia is not, perhaps, just their age, but also their ability to sink in. Videogames rarely give their player a concept of respite, sometimes noted as the disappearance of towns from videogames. What the town effect was, was simply a point of rest that also felt as though it were taking a deep breath, rather than a build-up towards something. Even videogames now based around towns, such as the popular Persona series, infuse their towns with personality through requirements and bonuses, rather than willful action, it manipulates players into a system which ultimately creates importance through association, rather than dissociation. In other words, towns are no longer a place where the player might have a coffee break, they are simply a system connected to what is perceived to be important.
The sense of videogames having places where the player is allowed to take a breath, to let it sink in, is rather lacking, and the constant creation of ever greater grandeur is a problem with videogames, big and small. Sometimes, what players really need is a break. The recent rise in slow, contemplative games is rather indicative of such sentiments, particularly well-received games like Proteus. Part of this too is the increasing consumer backlash against the concept that every videogame needs to be an action game, though if the market itself holds sales as important, it’s far more likely that many dance titles and rehashes of Madden are in our future, rather than other videogames of any sort.
There is also a real perception that videogames are simply not as good as they once were, and the primary reason for this is because they aren’t. Videogames are too expensive to develop now, and each successive generation has continued to up the ante, with budgets so high that there are now modelers hired to make brick meshes. Nothing but brick meshes. Imagine how soul crushing it must be to get into a creative industry about advancing interactive concepts, only to be told that your job is one part, and a rather insignificant and oft ignored part of a videogame. The problem of 3D, and large budget games in general, is that the amount of money required to make a game look, in 3D, the way in which they wish it to look, is outrageous. Big budgets and a need for ever-increasing technology is making the industry untenable, and will likely soon be a victim of its own success.
These budgets continue to skyrocket both because of the videogame industry’s upward spiral, but also because of the created expectation each of these new technologies brings. There is an expectation not just for innovation, but for virtual evolution in tried-and-true patterns of constructing a videogame. The result is an attempt to retain an untempered, highly-filtered connection to the audience with the belief that fandom will construct the necessary attention for success. However, sales of most videogames, and most videogame systems, have fallen far below recent expectations. There is a reality being ignored here, especially by the industry, and continuing to ignore such a reality is going to lead to some dramatic downturns.
It is not that there is not interest, nor is it that there is not desire, but there is also no necessity to promote expectations that cannot be met. Videogames need to temper themselves and be honest about what they are and who they’re promoting to, as well as temper expectations about the necessity of evolution. Old fallbacks, well-executed, are just as valuable to the industry as new and innovative ideas, but not every videogame can be both, nor is there any need for all videogames to do so. The recent success of Kickstarter largely plays on nostalgic concepts and old ideas, and the reason for such wide success is largely because there is an open, honest nature to the requests put forward. People desire an industry with transparency, with honesty about the product, not catchphrases and ever more unrealistic expectations. What’s more, Kickstarter has also proven that it’s ok to appeal to niche audiences, and that there has never been a time when people haven’t been interested in experimental titles.
What it has also proven is that there is a deep desire for both iterative titles and titles which are simply rehashes of old genres. There is a need for balance and a scaling back of expectations from the AAA world of games. The spiral cannot continue ever upwards as prices continue to fall in digital markets. It’s untenable and more than that, unwanted by consumers, especially when they have a far greater myriad of options than they ever had before. Perhaps even more necessary is a middle market where videogames have a decent, yet not outrageous budget to spend on development. These markets are where gems like Demon’s Souls and Dark Souls emerged, and will emerge from again if developers and publishers are willing to take small, reasonable risks while scaling back their larger budgets for greater risks. The middle market has also seen the rising popularity of directors as the heads of videogames, and being not just noticed, but coming with a similar popularity and respect as those of movie directors, and this is an important shift.
Such a shift means that videogame creators can now begin to have creative freedom and a vision of what a videogame should be, without such hard pressure from a publisher to succeed. It is a space where even modest success allows the continuation of creative concoctions. Experimentation and manageable budgets is what created the wild success of the 80s and 90s. The same wild successes are possible again, if there is a better management of expectations and a market driven less by booms and busts.
Publisher:Stephen Keating On:
Category:Articles and tagged brick meshes, Dark Souls, Demon's Souls, Earthbound, Final Fantasy VIII, Persona, towns, videogames Full Text:Link
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Publisher:Stephen Keating On:
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