It seems that the debate flared up from Roger Ebert's original 'Videgames can never be Art' blog post is still going strong. He's casting some level of self-reflection whilst also seemingly engages in dialogues with those experienced in both film and games such as Clive Barker.
http://blogs.suntimes.com/ebert/2010/07/okay_kids_play_on_my_lawn.html
I throw my hand in to the comments section:
I applaud your self-reflection but I'm afraid I'm going to have to pick you up on one particular argument that contains a glaring error. I can accept that this was conjecture based on assumptions about a medium you've freely admitted you don't have much experience with.
I draw attention to your statement that likens the interactivity and choice available in videogames to a version of Romeo & Juliet that has a happy ending. This is based on the assertion that, for some reason, an interactive-capable medium must allow the player to change the outcome of the story at all times. To the contrary, videogames do not always offer that level of freedom (partly because it is difficult to implement) and at the same time the power of choice is an extremely powerful narrative tool - one which can be granted by the author and also one which can be taken away.
Indeed it is never a pleasant feeling to lose the ability to choose and sometimes even worse when the illusion of choice is mutated into Hobson's Choice or varying degrees of false dichotomies like Morton's Fork.
One experience that will haunt many players is Heavy Rain which asks that main protagonist sever one of his appendages, using what ever items may be around, in exchange for a clue to his son's location. The list of options available in that room always includes the door behind you. You can always run away but are you willing to sacrifice for the sake of love?
Many people will have, no-doubt, already championed Shadow of the Colossus as videogame art and for this post I'm going to attempt to reinforce my point with a similar title, Ubisoft's 2009 franchise reinvention: Prince of Persia. Story spoiler warnings etc.
In Prince of Persia you are alone in this vast land that has been taken over by an evil force that has twisted and mutated the landscape. Your only companion throughout is The Princess who is by your side at every step of the way and through interactions with her you learn the history of this world and how it works.
During the course of the game you help The Princess cleanse the land with her unique abilities in a number of scenes that combine the beauty of seeing the world gradually transformed back to its natural luscious glory with hints that the process is taking a harmful toll on our heroine. By the time the lands are completely cleansed a strong emotional bond is formed by the two characters, possibly even feelings of love and that all comes in to play when they face off against the source of this world's evil to banish it once and for all.
The final conflict reaches a stunning climax which leaves the player with a feeling of triumph which is quickly crushed when our female protagonist uses herself as a human sacrifice to seal away the evil. A tiny white tree appears to symbolise the light and you are left to carry the body of your dead lover away as the credits roll. There's something even more harrowing to come when the credits finish when you realise that the game hasn't actually finished yet. You are free to roam the entirety of this lonely desolate world and there is a clear way for you to bring back The Princess... but at a horrifying cost. You know what you must do, what you mustn't do. You know full well the consequences and at the same time you know how your character feels as well. That's why the torrent of emotional feeling that spiral inside as you stand before that beautiful fragile tree, sword in hand is something I can not adequately describe in a few words.
And the worst part of it is, nobody has forced you to do it, nobody tells you. You made this choice and it was the one inevitable conclusion.
No comments:
Post a Comment