How Games Reflect Society
Let’s take another look at a WW2 first person multiplayer shooter: Rising Storm. From the developers of Red Orchestra 2: Heroes of Stalingrad.
In the video, I talk about:
Feel free to leave a comment!
Enjoy,
Kevin
Today I play Mirror’s Edge, a fantastic first person free-running game that shows that games can strive to be so much more than mindless shooting.
Filling in the gap here with Episode 7 (I skipped 7 earlier)
Enjoy!
Cheers,
Kevin
With SimCity’s recent troubled release, I decided to play another city building game: Anno 2070. Enjoy!
Cheers,
Kevin
I am thankful that Sim City did not have a successful launch. And that makes me a bad person.
We should always hope that games will be embraced and beloved by gamers. Every successful game is another step forward for the medium. And yet, I often find myself hoping for big titles to generate criticism from the gaming press or from the internet community at large. This is a very selfish and cruel thing to hope for, and it’s certainly not my dominant opinion of games, but still… Sometimes, I want games to fail.
I don’t want games to fail because I’ve got a vendetta against the industry or for fear that I might be wasting money. I want some games to fail because I’m an adult now, with less and less time to actually play. In other words, I am utterly jealous of people who have time to enjoy games. These people have time to play. I do not. And that’s a real bummer.
From the time I was a small child to the time I graduated college, video games have been a significant source of my attention. Finished my homework? How about a few hours of Half Life? Time between classes? I could blow through a couple of TF2 matches. Girlfriend wants to hang out? Before I go, I can squeeze in a quick game of Sins of a Solar Empire, right? (Turns out I was wrong about this particular situation. My girlfriend (now ex-) didn’t appreciate the severity of the Vasari threat… or the fact that “quick games” can go well over three hours. Oops.)
But things are different now. My life is fulfilling and I certainly enjoy the time I spend at work, with friends or at the gym. I even have some time to spend gaming. My last 30 minutes of consciousness at night are often spent playing FIFA 13 and trying to not throw my controller at my TV.
The trouble with gaming now as a busy adult is that I can no longer devote major sessions of time to gaming. To do so would be irresponsible. When I see news of a major upcoming release, I cannot help but experience an inner conflict. My inner child froths at the mouth while my inner adult is busily cross-checking projected game time against my work schedule.
As a result of this conflict, I feel a bizarre sense of joy when a game like Sim City is released to so many technical issues and such critical condemnation. By not even having enough time to commit to a good game, I feel relief that that I didn’t waste what little time I do have on an inconsistent and—by some accounts—broken entertainment experience.
But this joy is not healthy.
I understand that the demands of adulthood are not a burden; rather, they are an opportunity for a more careful appreciation of games. I no longer need to play a bad video game for hours on end for want of other options. I can discriminate against poor games in favor of the quality releases that actually deserve my time.
And I think that this is an important early lesson in adulthood for me. Not every game* is worth a 40 hour commitment. I don’t need to chase every game* or hope that every new release* fails. I should simply enjoy games when I can, as they suit me.
Just because my inner adult is in charge now, does not mean I can’t let my inner child enjoy himself from time-to-time.
Kevin, circa 2006
Life’s too short to worry about what you can’t have.*
Happy Gaming,
Kevin
*these are probably metaphors.
Today I play the alpha version of ARMA 3. Action! Adventure! Discussions about the implications of realism in video games!
Video games are a confusing form of media, one that has not yet fully been explored. This is especially the case when it comes to video game criticism and reviews. Every video game journalist has his or her own opinion on what video game reviews are and what they should be. Some believe that game reviews should primarily serve consumer interest. These reviews ought to answer the question, “Should I spend my limited financial and time resources on this game? Is it worth it?” Other reviewers value reviews as artistic critiques of games’ many gradable qualities, ranging from story to graphics and everything in between. For these reviews, the most important question is, “Is this game advancing the form?”
Most reviewers however, take the middle road. They review games by touching upon gradable qualities, spending equal amounts of time discussing gameplay and story. At the end of their reviews, they will often include a score. 4 stars! 90/100! Two thumbs up! These scores are the indicators of whether or not a consumer’s money would be well-spent on a new title.
A gulf sometimes forms between the content of the review and the final score the game receives. Commenters are often quick to point out the discrepancy and reviewers are just as quick to deliver a common refrain: “Don’t pay attention to the scores; read the review itself for what I actually think of the game.”
Why include a score at all if you don’t put any value in it? The response to that question is, of course, that many people don’t read the reviews too closely, and that the score is there to satisfy a certain segment of consumer. What the reviewers seem to ignore however, is that those scores are important to at least some people, and that those scores should be a measured reflection of the review’s content. So why is there sometimes a gap between the review score and the content of the review itself?
I contend that there is a fundamental flaw in video game reviews that has not been addressed by any community of game or mainstream journalists.
To illustrate this problem, let us look at a recent review of Far Cry 3 from The Polygon. In his review, Arthur Gies praises the game’s mechanics:
“Ubisoft Montreal has in turn built a world that allows for creativity and emergent strategy to unfold. The entirety of the game world is open to you as soon as the tutorial is over, though Far Cry 3 does a great job of slowly introducing it all to you via the early story missions. After that, though, you’re given carte blanche to wander or progress the story as you see fit.”
After his initial praise however, Arthur focuses his attention on what he considers to be a troubling aspect of the game: its story.
“…the story fails to sell Jason’s growing detachment or discomfort over that detachment, and what’s left often felt exploitative and pointless, dotted with misogyny and homophobia that only works for shock value. Is this ham-fisted presentation of problematic imagery and, honestly, gross stereotypes, an issue unique to Far Cry 3? Well, no — see Resident Evil 5, for example. It’s not even unique to video games. The portrayal of post-colonial themes and Western encroachment on other cultures is something that storytelling aimed at mass markets has had a lot of trouble with for decades. But that doesn’t make it easier for me to swallow it here.”
His appraisal of the story seems damning. Here is a game that contains themes of misogyny and homophobia. Arthur highlights these points, noting that he finds those themes to be hard to swallow.
His final verdict?
9/10
“The story’s sour notes mar what is, otherwise, one of the best games of the year. If you can look past its thematic problems, Far Cry 3’s story isn’t without genuine invention and surprise — there’s a hallucinatory aspect that allows for surprising, disorienting sections of narrative and character development, as well as gameplay moments that defy the basic reality of the rest of the game. When the story isn’t standing in its way, Far Cry 3 sees enormous success with its wide-open world and all the numerous things there are to do therein. Ubisoft has created a mechanically ambitious, exciting game.”
Even in the final text of the review, Arthur once again highlights his reservations about the story.
For reference, here is The Polygon’s review policy:
“Games are not scored until a review is written and finalized. Once a review is complete, the reviewer meets with a group of senior editors to determine which score on our scale properly reflects the text as written. We do not write with scores in mind.”
In other words, the score is supposed to match the content of the review, but there is a notable gulf in this situation. I believe that this gap between the content of the review and the final score can only be explained in one of two ways:
In both cases, the score is still clearly a misrepresentation of the content of the article.
It’s not hard to think of other situations where the score does not fully account for the gameplay and the art of the game. Think of a game with a terrible story, but amazing gameplay. Now think of a game with an amazing story, but terrible gameplay. Which game should get a higher score?
The answer is neither, but given the current review landscape, one of those two games would certainly get a higher score. In the eyes of the gaming public, one of those games would be quantifiable better than the other.
“The shooting was tight, but the homophobia was kind of grating. 9/10.”
The best critics offer solutions, so here is my idea.
Games are fundamentally divided into two parts which are combined when reviewed: the curated art experience and the emergent gameplay experience.
The curated art experience includes everything that a developer presents to the player, but the player cannot manipulate through typical gameplay mechanics. These components include music, sound effects, graphics, art direction, narrative, characters, setting, themes and other artistic products. When we look at a painting, a sculpture or a building, we are consuming a curated experience. That is to say, when two people look at the same work, they are seeing the same colors, lines and patterns. Now, their impressions of the work are likely to differ—dramatically even—but the two observers can compare their experiences in a one-to-one manner.
The emergent gameplay experience is what sets games apart from art, but that quality is not limited to games alone. Sports and games have sets of rules in which players interact with each other or with the gameplay environment. Even though the rules are the same, the player experiences will differ dramatically. In video games, components of the emergent gameplay experience include all mechanics which the player must use to engage with the game world (i.e. control fidelity, non-aesthetic level design, ect.) and all mechanics which the player may affect or interact with directly (i.e. weapons, score systems, AI, skill trees, ect.).
These two distinct components of games must be accounted for in review scores. How? By separating them entirely.
In order for a review score to accurately reflect the text of a review, the score should consist of two scores, which are not to be averaged because the two parts are distinct and impossible to compare accurately. They need to be separated.
Using the Grubber Review Scale,each game will receive two scores between -50 and 50. Think of the scale like a coordinate plane. (0,0) is the vertex of the scale and represents a game that is average in terms of both gameplay and the curated artistic experience. The x-axis represents the gameplay value of a given game; the y-axis represents that game’s artistic value.
Let’s look at games and see where they might fall on this review scale. Bear in mind that I believe that the value of a game is fundamentally subjective. Everyone has a different definition of “good” and “bad.” It is therefore completely reasonable for people to view my placement of certain games on the scale as being incorrect. My system is designed to expose a reviewer’s opinion more accurately, not to uncover a game’s objective worth—as if such a thing actually existed.
Coordinates: (-50,-50)
The absolute worst of the worst. Completely lacking in coherent plot and without art direction that even comes close to standing the test of time, both of these games are artistically bankrupt. Add to this the fact that neither game has sensible mechanics, and you have the anchor of this scale.
Coordinates: (-50,50)
An artistic triumph with wonderful level design, a fascinating plot and compelling themes not often explored in the video game medium, Dear Esther was a critical darling on linear review scales. Those scales were misleading however, because the game was almost completely devoid of mechanics. The player could walk around the world, but interaction was limited to such a degree, that the entire experience might very well have been a movie rather than an emergent player experience. I loved my time with this game, but I do think this example illustrates how my system might handle “mechanics-lite art house” games.
Coordinates: (50,-50)
Pong does everything it sets out to accomplish. It is the perfect gameplay experience, especially for its time. Having said this, the game is completely lacking in narrative and only offers rudimentary art and sound design. Some may argue that this minimalism would itself warrant a higher score, especially given that it is such an old game. However, I want to take into account the fact that the designers of the game were working with a limited palette and were more interested in creating a game as a proof of concept for mechanics, not in producing an art piece. I don’t think Pong is “saying” anything; I think it’s just trying to be a game.
Coordinates: (50,50)
I’m putting Portal as the ideal game on the Grubb Review Scale. Its art direction is minimalistic and sanitized, but the player understands that something ugly is going on behind the scenes. This contrast and duality are intentional artistic design choices. The main antagonist, GLaDOS, is a brilliant villain with a wicked sense of humor. The gameplay is unique and executed well. I believe that Portal is proof that the pinnacle of my scale can be reached, but as you might imagine, it does not happen often.
And what belongs at the vertex of the Grubb Review Scale? What game is so average that it can’t force itself away from the x or y axis?
Coordinates: (0,0)
Largely forgettable in every way, but also not particularly insulting in any way. Sniper Elite V2 was fun for a few levels, but got repetitive quickly. It also had some interesting set pieces but again, the entire experience, both from a gameplay and a an artistic experience, was not exactly inspired.
The irony of a game about snipers sitting at the vertex of my scale is not lost on me.
Will my system “fix” game reviews? No, absolutely not. There are a myriad of factors which contribute to a game being “good” or “bad.” I’m merely introducing two variables that I believe to be equally important to the overall worth of a game. Some people might only value multiplayer and polygon count. And those people are not necessarily wrong . After all, reviews are subjective.
I also believe that reviewers will likely not approve of a two-score system; they will think that it is too confusing for the average gamer. That might be true, but I like to believe that the average gamer might understand why two scores present a clearer final verdict.
Too many reviewers complain about scores and then resign themselves to the shortfalls of whatever system they are using. Even if reviewers disagree with this proposed alternative, I would still challenge them to improve existing scales. The consumer and the reviewer both have nothing to lose.
Ladies and Gentlemen, that does it for me for 2012. It’s been a pleasure writing, recording and drawing this year. Stay tuned for 2013. I’ve already got some great things planned!
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!
Cheers,
Kevin
P.S. Follow me on Twitter @kpgrubb
Episode 7 is MIA for the moment. Here’s a hunting simulator. Enjoy.
Cheers,
Kevin
Sorry for the extended absence! I’m back, hot on the heels of the U.S. election. I decided to play a bit of Democracy 2. Enjoy!
Cheers,
Kevin
The depiction of war in media has always been a fascinating reflection of society and its general views toward state-on-state violence. Generally speaking, depictions of war either leave the audience in favor of war–or at least the rationale behind it–or firmly against it. For instance, Starship Troopers, written by Robert Heinlein in 1959, tells a story that promotes the idea of war as being a fundamental and integral part of society. Indeed, according to Heinlein’s precepts, full citizenship should only be given to those willing to make the ultimate sacrifice for their state, i.e. soldiers.
On the other hand, books like The Forever War, published in 1974 by Joe Haldeman, talk about the futility and deep personal cost of war. To Haldeman, war is an exercise through which lives are destroyed for vague and ultimately pointless political objectives.
Both works are hailed as masterpieces in science fiction, but they have diametrically opposed concepts of the value and cost of war. It is this difference of philosophy and presentation that makes the concept of war so fascinating in literature. But what about in video games?
Most modern video games exalt violence in one form or another. Popular games such as Battlefield and Call of Duty are obvious examples of the “oorah” mentality that forms the base of many other titles. In those games, players, with nearly superhuman speed, strength and accuracy, take on and defeat endless waves of enemies. If the player dies, he or she returns to the battlefield quickly, to run through this process again.
Needless to say, other games from other genres also reflect an affection toward violence–and I do not mean to flatly criticize this phenomenon. It is a natural consequence of the competitive nature of games. In games, we are often confronted by opposition, as it creates resistance for us as we progress toward a goal. Fighting an enemy in one form or another is a convenient, and often satisfying, way of providing that resistance.
While I do not consider the violence in video games to be a bad thing, it does create an interesting situation for games as a form of media, especially regarding the concept and execution of war. How does one make an anti-war game when so much of the fun derived from games comes from the mechanics of war?
Games with anti-war messages do exist, in spite of the challenges presented to the video game medium. Games like Fallout 3 use satire and contrasting imagery to mock war. Games like S.T.A.L.K.E.R. use grim backdrops and heavy atmosphere to paint war as a frightening experience. Games like DEFCON render the concept of war abstract, reducing war to a numbers game where millions of lives represent mere pawns on the global stage.
Games with anti-war messages or themes can use a number of methods to get their point across, but the best way may actually be something marketers love to print on game boxes: realism.
ARMA 2 and its expansion packs are held up in PC gaming circles as being excellent, realistic military simulators. Far from games like Battlefield or Call of Duty, ARMA 2 is the most recent entrant in a series of games, which are difficult to call “games.” They are open world military “experiences” that pit players against realistic military technology.
My experiences with this “game” make me believe that it was inadvertently created as an anti-war game.
Most of the marketing surrounding ARMA 2 revolves around imagery of high-tech weaponry, smoking battlefields, night vision-enhanced battles and squads running around in heroic poses. Squint enough and the marketing materials for the game look like recruitment posters for the US Army. And for good reason. Some of the technology behind the ARMA series is based on simulators developed for the US military.
In one sense, ARMA 2 is supposed to be a recruitment tool. Players are given the opportunity to experience modern war against a virtual force from the safety their own homes. Vehicles move about the battlefield, transporting soldiers and providing fire support. Artillery booms in the distance as forward observers call out targets. Enemies and allies alike fall to the effects of realistic ballistics.
In other words, ARMA 2 is as realistic as it gets (to say nothing of the mods for the game, which increase realism even more by incorporating battle fatigue, better ballistics and various health effects). The game is designed to be immersive and non-scripted. Multiple factors act together to create a dynamic and evolving battlefield situation, similar to the way in real life, modern military forces employ a combined arms approach to successfully achieve objectives.
Playing through ARMA 2, both in singleplayer and multiplayer, I felt intimidated by the number of things that could kill me on the battlefield. Gamers have been spoiled by the aids they regularly receive in games: regenerating health, the ability to run quickly for long periods of time, technological and physical superiority over foes, ect. In ARMA 2 however, the player is stripped of these abilities, meaning the experience of war is significantly closer to reality than it is in most games.
Therein lies the anti-war message.
In one session of ARMA 2, I can be killed by one errant shot from a friendly squad member. I can be caught in the shockwave of a vehicle explosion. I can break my legs falling from a roof and be forced to crawl around until either I find a medic or I am killed by enemy fire. I can die instantly if I’m trapped inside a tank as it is destroyed or a helicopter as it crash lands.
Games often try to make the player feel powerful, but in real war, the “player” is subject to the whims of his or her environment. This is why ARMA 2, in spite of its fairly pro-war intentions, actually comes across in many respects as an expression of the frailty of the human condition. In war, you are mortal. At least in ARMA 2, you can respawn.
Do I think we need more anti-war games? Not necessarily. Again, I do not think the developers of ARMA 2 believed they were creating an anti-war game; they were creating a simulator for people who wanted to play around with military equipment in a virtual world. The exposure to realism however, left me with a clearer understanding of the fact that war is less about bunny hopping around a generic Middle Eastern village, and more about the fact that in war, you can die in decidely unglamorous ways and with no recourse. These are the things they do not tell you in recruiting commercials.
We don’t necessarily need more anti-war games, but it is important that games continue to push against concepts which are so easy to perpetuate in the medium. When you can respawn, war is actually a lot of fun, but that doesn’t mean that we shouldn’t use tools like satire or horror to push back against the concept. The same line of thought applies to things like the depiction of women or racial stereotypes in games. That however, is likely a topic for another essay.
In the meantime, I’m going to continue playing soldier in virtual worlds and pray no one hands me a real rifle in the near future.
Cheers,
Kevin
Update: Some major spelling errors made their way into this essay. I’ve fixed them and apologize for the lapse.
