Learning to Be Human by Pretending to Be Elves, Dwarves, and Mages: A Phenomenological Aesthetic of Video Games Author: Nicholas Samuel Martis Persistent link: http://hdl.handle.net/2345/3886 This work is posted on eScholarship@BC, Boston College University Libraries. Boston College Electronic Thesis or Dissertation, 2014 Copyright is held by the author, with all rights reserved, unless otherwise noted. Learning to Be Human by Pretending to Be Elves, Dwarves, and Mages: A Phenomenological Aesthetic of Video Games By Nicholas S. Martis Under the Direction of Dr. Eileen Sweeney, Philosophy Boston College Arts and Sciences Honors Program 2014 2 Acknowledgements I would like to thank my advisor Dr. Eileen Sweeney for her encouragement and bravery in taking on an unorthodox project. I would also like to thank my friends with whom I have discussed many of the ideas that form the basis of this paper. I am especially grateful to Vince Mendola and Alex Bernstein who provided feedback on earlier drafts. Additionally, I thank my family for their support, even if begrudgingly given, of my passion. Most especially though, I thank my brother Tom for the countless hours spent playing together, talking about games, and arguing over which Final Fantasy is best. Dedication For Tom, my unwavering partner in saving the world time and again. Cover image: screenshot of Vivi, a black mage from Final Fantasy IX (Square EA, 2000). 3 Table of Contents 1. Why Study Video Games as a Form of Art? …………………………………………..…4 2. Systems of Aesthetics……………………………………………………………………15 3. The Video Game as Text………………………………………………………………...43 4. Embodiment…………………………………………………………………………...…64 5. Narrative…………………………………………………………………………………91 6. Emotion…………………………………………………………………………………120 7. In Depth Analyses………………………………………………………………………140 8. Appendix: Screenshots………………………………………………………………….164 9. Afterword……………………………………………………………………………….177 10. References………………………………………………………………………………178 4 Chapter One Why Study Video Games as a Form of Art?: Dispelling Illusions and Countering the Obvious Objections Despite initial reluctance from academics, the significance of video games as a cultural form is slowly starting to become acknowledged. Some nations, including the United States, have finally recognized video games as an art form worthy of free speech protection (Schiesel 2011). In the past decade or so, a new field of “game studies” has steadily cropped up and began to gain attention. Several museums have featured video games, such as the 2012 exhibit The Art of Video Games at the Smithsonian. Even as they finally begin to scratch the surface of academia, video games have been mostly ignored by philosophers, which seems odd, especially when considering the recent resurgence of philosophical aesthetics in the past few decades. As far as I can find, only a handful of authors have attempted a philosophical examination of video games from the tradition of aesthetics, and only a fraction of those with any appreciable depth. In order to argue not only that video games are an art form worthy of deep examination, but to explore the ways in which they accomplish this uniquely, which is by far the more interesting question, I will draw from these authors, philosophical aesthetics in general, aspects from the field of media studies, video game journalism, and of course my own experiences. The majority of my exposure to video games has been with the first three iterations of Sony’s Playstation console beginning at about the age of six. Still, many qualifications need to be made. A large proportion of video games are indeed nothing more than vulgar junk, no more deserving of aesthetic examination than a typical Hollywood summer blockbuster or pulp romance. Of the video games that do offer quality gaming experiences, many make no move toward artistic significance. The annual installments 5 of Madden football or Call of Duty, the simplicity of Pac-man, and the popularity wave of Angry Birds have little to say when it comes to the realm of art. They adhere more closely to the concept of a pure game than to cultural expression. Finally, even when a developer sets out with the intention of creating something meaningful, the commodification of the industry encourages publishers to invest in proven formulas that will guarantee a profit rather than encourage innovation or transgression at the sake of prospective sales. If a video game manages to make it through all of these filters, there is still no guarantee that the mode of aesthetic experience offered by a product will be the same, or even similar for all games. Whereas films, novels, and paintings have established relatively stable conventions in the method in which they transmit meaning to the appreciator, the wildly varying types of video games can affect players in an incredibly diverse fashion. Video games can be sources of narrative, competition, social interaction, or mere time killing. For this reason, an open mind as well as frequent references to specific games must be components of this investigation. Now that the motivation and the scope of this investigation have been established, it is time to turn to the most obvious objections to considering video games as an art form. These problems arise from a surface level consideration of the nature of video games and thus will be considered now in order to allow discussion of deeper and more interesting issues. A good place to start is the series of opinion articles released by famed film critic Roger Ebert. In 2006 he sparked a furious online debate when he declared that video games could not be art (Ebert 2007). He admits that games may be visually beautiful, engaging, and evoke powerful emotions in players, but still denies the title of art. In fact, he wonders why gamers even seek the designation, as if they desire some sort of legitimization. Many worthwhile pastimes can profoundly move 6 and enrich the participants with instances of elegance (sports and chess come to mind), yet don’t strike us as art. After this concession, he states his reasons. For one, a video game most often involves competition, either between players or the player and the game itself; games are played to be won. This seems fundamentally different from an artwork which is experienced. Ebert is certainly correct here. Even if a game has artistic qualities, the player must demonstrate skill in order to traverse the “text.” Game studies theorist Espen Aarseth designates such objects ergodic texts1. This characteristic of video games may in fact be one reason that they have been neglected as an object of study. The skills necessary to play games must be cultivated over time and most games assume at least a basic level of understanding and facility of control over the interface. These circumstances may provide a barrier to entry for scholars. In terms of the possibility of an ergodic text to be artistic, the method of interaction between an appreciator and the text differs from that with traditional artworks. As a player proceeds through a game, he is searching for opportunities to improve performance. In contrast, art requires the appreciator to search for meaning, symbols, emotional expression, and ideas. The latter experience is usually termed aesthetic, whereas the former does not obviously align with this designation. What Ebert seems to miss is that it needn’t. There seems to be no a priori reason to believe that an artifact may not simultaneously invite both a competitive and aesthetic experience. What can be expected to change is the flavor of the aesthetic experience as a result of the addition of this novel element. If video games are demonstrated to be artworks, then they will have a unique aesthetic character that reflects its competitive nature. 1 In this context an ergodic text is one that takes nontrivial effort to traverse. The concept will be more closely examined in chapter three. 7 Ebert points out another obvious difference between video games and traditional artworks in the capability of player input that can alter the outcome of the game. He believes authorial control is necessary in order to treat a theme with any reasonable amount of subtlety and depth. Choices afforded to the player, by his reasoning, only decrease the opportunity for the author to inject meaning into the work. Responding to British horror novelist, philosopher, and game designer Clive Barker who claims that offering multiple emotional journeys in the same world should qualify as a form of art, Ebert sarcastically comments, If you can go through “every emotional journey available,” doesn’t that devalue each and every one of them? Art seeks to lead you to an inevitable conclusion, not a smorgasbord of choices. If next time, I have Romeo and Juliet go through the story naked and standing on their hands, would that be way cool or what? (Ebert 2007) This opinion arises from the mistaken conception that if video games qualify as art, then they will in the same manner as films, novels, or drama. What if the element of player choice provides the primary artistic element? If the player’s decisions can contribute to the outcome of an emotional journey, won’t the result feel more powerful, more personal? Moreover, Ebert glosses the fact that in many games, the player does not affect the overall narrative, thus the “smorgasbord of choices” can still be a part of a cohesive whole. Certainly more important, however, is the fact that every choice offered to the player is specifically chosen by the game designer. The player is directed along one of several paths, rather than passively pulled like a filmgoer. By no means are most games designed with the intention of granting every choice artistic significance, the meaning of which will be explored in the next chapter, but the potential is still there, and the best games take advantage of it, at least occasionally.