GameSpot guides editor Matthew Rorie regards comic books more highly than he does video games. Berate him at [email protected].
Work hard, play hard is a good motto. Sometimes a reality check is what it takes to make someone question how much time and energy, let alone money, they invest into gaming. Whenever some catastrophe in the world occurs, you can count on all the gaming forums you visit lighting up with message board threads coming from people who question, what's it all for? Shouldn't we be doing something serious with our lives instead of wasting them away in front of our monitors and televisions? No one's ever confronted me directly on that subject, challenging me to justify what it is that I do versus, say, the important work of a neurologist (like my mom) or an engineer (like my dad). But if they did, I know exactly what I'd do: I'd probably get kind of flustered, stammer some meek response, and then think of the Jerk Store. And then go home and keep playing.
What did we do to deserve this?
It's interesting that games, specifically, still occupy a rung a few steps below most other media on the ladder of social respectability. If I were forced to talk to a perfect stranger--someone that I wanted to like me--and had to choose a single type of media as the basis of discussion, you can bet that I wouldn't start up with something like "So, you like comic books? That Warren Ellis sure is talented!" or "Play Shadow of the Colossus yet? Boy, what a beautiful game!" Instead, I'd probably score some intellectual points by talking about The Ruin of J. Robert Oppenheimer or some challenging-yet-accessible CD that came out recently. A sincere interest in films, books, or music is generally going to be more acceptable in the company of strangers than a sincere interest in video games; that much I think is agreed upon.
This is probably just as much an artifact of my own personal hang-ups about admitting that I like video games as it is a reflection of an actual societal bias against media that's targeted toward young people. But while we're on the topic, I think that this is the source of most of the perceived problems that people have with video games in general: There's still a pervasive notion, especially in the older segment of our society, that video games are somehow intended solely for children, and are thus either: a) an unsightly habit for people who have passed beyond their teen years or b) dangerous to children when they incorporate adult themes. Both attitudes are commonly conflated for older people who don't play or understand games.
How long will games be around before one wins a Pulitzer prize?
These attitudes are, of course, usually the result of a lack of education. People generally do emerge from a Michael Bay film with severe emotional trauma, perhaps even bleeding from the eyes and ears, but would any of them turn around and use their experience to write off cinema as an art form? We can all agree that Ashlee Simpson is a horrible, coattails-riding harpy, but would listening to her prevent you from being moved by Tosca or Gorecki's Third Symphony? Obviously not, but people make judgment calls about other perceivedly lesser art forms every day, without hesitation, and without even bothering to experience them firsthand.
For instance, they see the rote power-fantasy-fulfillment of a Superman or Batman and write off all comics before they come into contact with something intended for adults, like Maus or the bizarre and fantastic work of the previously mentioned Warren Ellis. Similarly, people who don't play games have their opinions of the medium shaped predominantly by things that pierce the mass media. They see San Andreas' unlockable sex game or Jack Thompson explaining about how The Sims 2 can be used to create virtual child pornography, and that's it! You can counter that all you like with a description of how sublime the experience of playing ICO is, or how you cried at the end of Final Fantasy X , but it's difficult to overcome that first negative impression, especially since the image of games in popular culture (including the bulk of game advertising) is still one of an industry that is slavishly focused on the teenage male demographic.
We're still waiting for Understanding Video Games.
So, what will it take for games to become, if not a subject of discussion for the New York Review of Books, than at least a form of media that is widely recognized as being capable of producing works of art, however rare they may be? (And there certainly is a difference between mere "media" and "art," although the line is sometimes rather fine.) I think that the prime ingredient here will be time. Even though comic books were regarded as children's diversions for the bulk of their 100-year or so history, recently the tide has turned a bit, with artists like Alex Ross having gallery shows, books like Understanding Comics opening the eyes of some hesitant critics, and mainstream attention being given to serious graphic novels, like Maus or Road to Perdition.
Although the vast bulk of the comics produced today are still fairly standard affairs involving lasers shooting out of eyes and large, barely concealed breasts, some writers, such as Brian Michael Bendis, do attempt to work within the genre's conventions while delivering stories of substance and charm. (And one could argue that game designers like Michel Ancel and Tim Schafer attempt to do the same within certain gaming genres, albeit with less success in the marketplace.)
It's also worth mentioning that the comics industry as a whole has taken on the task of rebuilding itself after the severe economic problems it faced in the first half of the 1990s. Although major comic publishers are still very much in competition with one another, they still manage to attract new customers with things like Free Comic Book Day, 25-cent or 10-cent comic books designed to introduce characters to new readers, more titles aimed at younger readers, and other forms of proselytization. Comic companies nowadays seem to be more focused on delivering excellent storytelling (well, for the most part, anyway) that will encourage people to read a series over a span of years rather than focusing on delivering a dozen variant covers of the first issue, which appeals only to short-term collectors. Comics also reap the benefits of more and more scholarly attention, especially from art professors and the like.
But it's difficult to say how much these things can be applied to games, since the economic differences between them and other forms of media are so great. For games to become more acceptable as a serious media form, people have to experience them. But that still requires a financial outlay of hundreds of dollars. The time requirements are also fairly severe. Anyone can spend two hours in a movie theater, but it requires more tenacity to play through a Final Fantasy game for 50 hours in the hopes of seeing the ending.
Will Nintendo wind up saving the industry?
As of now, innovation in games is driven more by commerce than by any kind of noble artistic ideal. For that to change, and for games to be taken more seriously by people who don't play them, games need to become cheaper to make, they need to be made by more- diverse groups of people, and they need to be more accessible to nongamers. You could argue about the accessibility point, but the other two factors aren't improving, and they probably won't improve anytime soon. Most game companies seem to be preaching to the choir by developing games that will mostly appeal to people who are already interested in them.
Oddly enough, Nintendo's attempts to broaden the appeal of games to a wider market might, in fact, allow a broader social acceptance of games in general, or at least it might help convince people that there are games that appeal to people outside the stereotypical "skateboard-and-tattoo" young males that most companies still seem to be focused on. Can Nintendogs be the game industry's antidote to Hot Coffee? Or will the most violent games always be what people think about when they see a PlayStation? I guess only time will tell.
Next Up: Taking a Stand by Carrie Gouskos