Introduction
In my blog, I’ve spent a lot of time on the subject of game
theory. I’ve discussed the process of
game design, what games mean to us as individuals and as a society, and some of
the qualities that mark a great game.
Recently, however, I took a look at the larger question of just what
games are, especially in a time when we see video games further and further
blurring the lines of exactly what a game can be. As I’ve thought about exactly how games can
be defined, I’ve reduced the question down to a terrible argument of semantics
– defining the “game” as opposed to what I call the “game experience”.
What is the Game
Experience?
The concept of the game experience encompasses not just
gameplay, but the total package of what the game is and what it affects. It’s the game itself, its presentation, its
style, the interactions within the community, the nature of the community
itself, and the way a game impacts your interpretations of other games, other
media, and the rest of the world. The
quality of the game experience isn’t something that can be determined and
broadcast on release day like a game’s review scores. The experiences of games from 30 and 40 years
ago are still being written today.
This all factors in with another point I recently raised
about the evolving definition of games. We see a lot of video games out there that
can’t really be called “games”, but we don’t have any other good way to
describe them. Perhaps this is another
way to look at such games – not as “games” per se, but as game
experiences. If nothing else, we can use
this expression in the same way we refer to Velveeta as an “American cheese
food product”.
In seriousness, though, an “experience” may be the most
reliable term for these non-game games.
They possess some level of interactive player control, so they play
something like video games, but that may be as far as the connection goes. The rest is simply a world built around that
interactive nature. It’s an interactive
way to experience a story, an interactive way to view art, or an interactive way
to sit and mindlessly roam around, forgetting your troubles. There’s some element of a game in there
somewhere, but what you’re really engaged in, more than anything, is a game
experience.
Examples – Game vs.
Experience
Of course, “game experience” isn’t an entirely fair
definition for quasi-games. Every game
system has its own game experience. I
think the key is in placing emphasis on exactly what it is we’re engaged
with.
In this case, what would be the definition of a game? Think of something like Tetris. The game is part of
a larger game experience, sure, but when you sit down to play Tetris, what keeps you engaged is the
game itself. The process of rotating
pieces, carefully placing them, and dropping them down is a gameplay
process. That’s what pushes you forward,
and that’s what keeps you coming back.
When you play Tetris, you’re
engaging, primarily, in a game.
Then there are the games we might describe more as game
experiences. Something like Heavy Rain qualifies more in this
sense. You play through game events and
participate actively in the process, but the primary driving force behind Heavy Rain is its story. More than likely, you don’t play it primarily
to complete tasks or move through the game world. You play it to see where narrative events are
leading. The story is a big part of the
game and is directly connected to the gameplay, but the primary engagement of
the player is not with the gameplay itself.
The player is engaging in a game experience, rather than a game. Proteus,
as I’ve discussed previously, only deals with walking from place to place. Goals are whatever you make of them. Now, unless you’re immensely intrigued by the
process of walking, Proteus isn’t
engaged with as a game. As you walk and
create your own motivations, or even if you engage in the process and simply
wonder “What in the world is this and why would I waste my time playing it?”,
you’re participating in a game experience.
When we look at the concept of “game” and “game experience”
in this way, we begin to run into a high degree of subjectivity. Whether you engage in a game or a game
experience depends greatly on how you approach the game. Look at Metal
Gear Solid. Many people play it as a
game. They have key motivations to
improve their skills, master the mechanics, and be the best damn Solid Snake
they can be. I’m the type who plays it
when I feel like watching a movie. The
story drives me forward, and that’s the main reason I engage in the interactive
portions. I approach the game as a game
experience. Something similar could be
said of Braid. Many people seem to view Braid as a work of art – an elegant experience that is a
combination of gameplay, narrative, visual art, and music. In this case, Braid is enjoyed as a game experience. I’m the type that plays it purely to beat
those pesky puzzles.
In one of my very first posts, I discussed (at great length)
narrative design in video games, but specifically, how it tied into the
controversy surrounding Metroid: Other M. Not to beat a dead horse, but there’s another
point I’d like to bring up. You see,
leading up to the game’s release, Nintendo touted Other M as “the ultimate Metroid
experience”. Now, did it prove to be the
ultimate Metroid game? Absolutely not. By no means.
But the ultimate Metroid
experience? There’s actually room for
argument. (The answer is still no, but
it’s at least a much more accurate assessment.)
Looking beyond the gameplay to the sheer spectacle of the presentation
offers a new view on the title. Looking
beyond the title itself to the insanely overblown controversy surrounding it
which drew a great schism through a devoted fan base – that provides another
layer to the mix, for better or for worse.
Simply put, if you were a Metroid
fan, it was quite the thing to live through.
Game Experience as
Product
By my definition, the game experience is always larger than
the game; the game is always contained within the game experience. But you may have noticed a key term popping
up – motivation. Motivation is the
driving force (the motivating force, I suppose) behind progression through a
game. Motivation to progress from one
event to another is a key element of gameplay.
Thus, we’re left with an interesting question…if you’re motivated by the
game experience more than the game itself, isn’t that game experience now a
part of the gameplay? But then doesn’t
that mean you’re more motivated by the game than the experience? But then doesn’t that just mean the game
experience is larger? But then are you
more motivated by the game or this new game experience? But if you’re more motivated by the new game
experience, then y—oh no, I’ve gone cross-eyed.
In this sense, the relationship between the game and the
game experience is somewhat cyclical. If
you’re drawn to play a game for the sake of nostalgia, that’s the game
experience drawing you along towards the game’s goal. If you play a popular game in front of people
to make yourself look cool, that’s the game experience propelling you
along. It’s also terribly sad. I’ve never done this, of course.
So how, then, does this help us define games and
quasi-games? While it’s true that a
certain part of the game experience takes place outside the software, some of
it can be created as an integral piece of the gameplay and included as a part
of the package. When you first begin a
playthrough of Amnesia: The Dark Descent,
a block of text prompts you not to play the game to win, but to get involved in
the story and environment. Fans will
instruct you to play the game not because it’s challenging or fun, but because
it’s scary, visceral, and just generally engaging. In this sense, Amnesia is marketing itself directly (and indirectly) as a game
experience, not a game.
Conclusion
Some games are crafted for the gameplay. Others are crafted to look beyond it. Neither is necessarily better than the other,
and they both contain shared elements. They
share the same heritage and the same developer motivations to engage and
entertain the audience. However, placing
these titles in the same category is proving to be a bit inaccurate. The way I see it, there’s nothing wrong with
marketing a fringe game as a game experience, because that’s what it is. If the “game” aspect of a game isn’t what’s
being sold, it probably shouldn’t be called a game.
But really, you can call it what you want. I’m not in charge here.
