GameSpot features editor Carrie Gouskos thinks GameFAQs' "Character Battle" polls are more clear-cut than political elections. E-mail [email protected] if you agree that Solid Snake should run for president.

　　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.

　　Part of that time passed this past weekend, when I spent three virtually game-free days with my mother on vacation in San Diego. When I say "virtually" game-free, what I mean is this: I went with the intention that I would leave both work and personal diversions behind. I would go to restaurants and the zoo and do anything my mom wanted to do, but I would not do any work, and I would not play any of the games in my ever-increasing backlog. Of course, because my mother is of the newspaper-clipping variety and has spent a fair amount of time with Tipper Gore, and because my livelihood is based on this thing she doesn't quite understand, I thought I would make one last-ditch attempt at getting her to play something other than variations on Solitaire and Bejeweled. I would prove to her that my 20-page aesthetic thesis on video games as an emerging art form as evidenced by Prince of Persia was an example of a good argument and not just skillfully contrived hooey. So I sat her down with Nintendogs. If anything was going to wipe the memory of the mainstream media's assault on video games, this was it.

　　Any medium that can replicate a golden retriever this well can't be that bad.

　　And boy did it. I mean, boy did it ever. I didn't even have to explain anything to her. Usually I have to guide her through games with the care of a surgeon. "Mom, now push that button. Because it makes the text go away. Now push that one. Because you can talk to that person. No, you don't want to pause the game. Because you want to play the game." But this time, what I had originally intended to be a five-minute tutorial ended up being a two-hour, honest-to-god session during which I watched a crappy movie on the hotel's HBO while my mother cooed at puppies. "Look, Carrie, look look! He shook his butt at me! Oh, that's sooo cute!" During dinner, she leans over and asks me if I think the puppies will be hungry. In the morning, while I'm getting coffee, she fishes into my bag and retrieves the dogs with the single-minded focus of an addict. Once upon a time, my mother didn't know how to work a video game system. Now, she's discovered the ins and outs of the whole game within a few minutes. I always knew she was holding out on me.

　　I found myself insisting to her, as many people at GameSpot's offices did to me when I first got Nintendogs, that the game is really just a bunch of 1s and 0s (you know, just in case she thought there was actually a bunch of tiny, real-life dogs trapped in my DS). I think her response to that was more surprising than her taking to the game so quickly. It seemed to genuinely color her attitude about video games in general. Next thing I know, she's on the phone to my grandmother (who has often inquired as to whether I'm involved with that game where the kids kill each other), explaining to her the magic of video games. Video games are wondrous things that can make puppies that look and act like puppies, only they don't pee in the house, and they never die. It's magical. For some reason, those few digital puppies neutralized the whole video game issue for her. Suddenly she's telling me stories about how my grandparents never allowed her to jitterbug and how isn't that the same thing? Why, yes, mom...it is.

　　Of course it could be argued that my mother's newfound respect for video games, based equally on appreciation and fear, is much healthier than that of those who think video games can do no wrong. Even though we use that same argument, that games aren't inherently evil, when discussing them with those who "don't quite get it," I feel compelled to say that games aren't inherently "good" either. And there are plenty of games working to capitalize on the "violence for violence's sake" mentality that people think sells games like Grand Theft Auto and Manhunt. Not all games use violence and aggression in a manner that makes sense or is even necessary. But we know this, right? I'm afraid not all of us do.

　　As much as I hate to utter his name, I'm reminded of events surrounding Florida-based attorney Jack Thompson. No, not his crazy, misinformed attacks on video games that have the legal bearing of a 6-year-old shouting "I'm telling my mommy!" I'm talking about the reaction to him, from many members of the gaming community, threatening his life in a barrage of virtually illiterate e-mails and expletives. It might seem like writing him and telling him off is going to help, but I for one am not standing behind you cheering you on. If I had my way, nobody would pay a single minute of attention to Jack Thompson, but if they did, it would be in the most informed, well-argued, mature way possible. Because, even if Thompson himself has lost his grip on the issue (and arguably, with reality in general), there are plenty of people in similar camps who have more-valid concerns and who need just a touch more information about video games from people who can supply the proper positive and informative influence. I would hope that the anti-game and pro-game camps could come together, find the source of what seems to be video-game-inspired violence, and properly remedy it. My suspicion is that it would have a lot more to do with funding schools and parenting classes than making sure no 16-year-old ever plays a mature game, but flooding Thompson's now-abandoned inbox with a thousand "I H8U PLZ DIE" e-mails isn't the best way to convey that.

　　We're still arguing whether or not this is art, let alone a clone of it.

　　With video games, as with anything, if you want to have a positive influence, you'll have to do it a little bit at a time, and it will take education, patience, and action. It will also take a little bit of concession. I'm willing to admit that some games are in poor taste, but that it has everything to do with their being poorly made and improperly motivated. For instance, bad GTA clones might just be bad games that contain needless violence--the video game equivalent of sending a string of curse words in Jack Thompson's direction. It's the same as if a bunch of people started filling art galleries with toilets, claiming they were no different from Duchamp. Except in the latter case, they are replicating only the physical reality of the art, not the intention or the purpose behind it.

　　If anything, the greatest injustice perpetuated by the game industry is the proliferation of these bad games. You think GTA is bad? Have you seen Gravity Games Bike: Street Vert Dirt? It's not the violence that's insulting; it's the lack of heart that went into making the game. And if you take a game that has little purpose, little artistic integrity, and violence and profanity to boot, then you're dealing cards straight into the anti-video game legislator's hands. How can they be expected to see what good can come out of the game industry when we can't even see it ourselves? I'm not calling for a ban on these games--I don't believe in censorship of any kind of art, not even bad art--but I am suggesting that we turn the same blind eye to those games that we turn to crazy, loudmouthed anti-game activists. They can't take the Psychonauts away from us, at least, not yet.

　　Next Up: Our Industry by Brian Ekberg