Play. What is it, exactly? Let’s make this an “according to Webster’s”-style moment and find out.
Oop. I used the über-convenient Dictionary.com instead. They define the word in an astonishing sixty-two different ways sans idioms and verb phrases.
Fourteen of these definitions rely on an understanding of the concept of performance. But not a one even so much as mentions expression, which is defined as an “indication of feeling, spirit” or “character…as on the face, in the voice, or in artistic execution.”
I bring up this last bit because a recent post (“Brilliant”) on Michael Abbott’s The Brainy Gamer lauds the notion of games as a means of exhibiting such feeling, spirit, or character through their mechanics.
Instinctively, I’m all for it. Games provide players with a means of asserting their own individuality via myriad choices. They provide an outlet for staging all manner of dramatic production.
But does any of this equate to personal expression? Upon closer examination, it seems a bit more like role-playing to me. Most games sketch a hasty caricature of human emotion. They paint with broad strokes, wasting precious little time on subtlety. What’s more, the designer’s (sometimes) invisible will is generally guiding one to act in accordance with what a particular character is supposed to feel.
In short, there’s not much room for players to be themselves.
On the other hand, some of humanity’s most cherished achievements shine like rays of sunlight through bars of extraordinary limitation. For instance: I’ve never actually heard evidence, but I understand that two entirely separate musical performances, despite originating from the same sheet, can sound almost completely disparate stylistically. This is not wholly unlike two different gamers approaching, say, Deus Ex in different ways. Right?
Perhaps poetry makes for a better analogy. Poems can be either free verse or formulaic, just as games can be either sandbox-style or genre piece. Now, I know from experience that writing free verse poetry isn’t my thing. Not at all. In fact, I much prefer to discover what happens when I follow the formulaic guidelines that a sestina prescribes. This seemingly restrictive framework tends to heighten my creativity. And so it is with games. Take the Grand Theft Auto series. It’s always been too much for me. I can’t accomplish anything within that slew of options! But give me a Test Chamber in Portal, and I will FIND that damned cake.
Of course, lots of gamers will feel (and play) differently. There’s an almost sickeningly huge range of ways to approach practically every game that’s ever been made. But, inevitably, our relationships to these experiences change over time. Rules are learned; skills mastered. More often than not, the expressive joy of discovery hardens into an almost-ritual ceremony of performance. And then what? We stumble into brand new worlds, keen on finding ourselves all over again.
Tags: Chuck Palahniuk, Clint Hocking, David Fincher, Edge, Edge Magazine, Far Cry 2, Fight Club, Grand Theft Auto, Michael Abbott, Portal, Take Two, Take-Two Interactive, The Brainy Gamer, Ubisoft, Ubisoft Montreal, Valve, Valve Corporation
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