One would be hard pressed to find a person who does not enjoy games. As stated by philosopher Martha Nussbaum in her book Sex and Social Justice, games and play are part of the human identity. We have a psychological need for recreational activities. Video games are simply a new way to do old things, things that are indispensible to human nature. However, there are ongoing questions regarding the “purpose” of video games; if they are mindless diversion or high art. Through an examination of aesthetics, the branch of philosophy concerned with art and beauty, the question becomes more clear-cut. Games, due to their ability to affect emotions into those who experience them, are most certainly an artistic medium.
Many authors seem to use the term game to mean both things like “Chess,” “Backgammon,” and “Legend of Zelda.” This is detrimental to the “games as art” argument as a whole. Equating “Dungeons and Dragons,” the table-top role-playing game, to “Super Mario Brothers” would be the same as equating a stage play with a movie. They have many similarities, to be sure, and plays can be made in movies the same way in which “Dungeons and Dragons” has had many video games over the years. Similarly, many film practices have evolved from those taken from theater. However, in both examples, they are entirely different things, with different histories, and require different mindsets both from the creators and by the consumers.
This difference becomes more pronounced when one wishes to discuss whether or not video games should be considered art. To my knowledge, no one has ever had to persuade a parent into allowing the purchase of “Battleship” by talking about its artistic merits, or similarly, by reminding said parent that the fleet combat is “just a game,” and not indicative of the emotional and psychological state of the players. The uproar the news media likes to raise on the issue of game violence and its effect on children (when will someone think of the poor children?) seems to imply one thing: that video games have the ability to affect people emotionally in ways “Yahtzee” cannot.
An entire branch of philosophy, aesthetics, exists to discuss the nature and importance of art. The field is still open, so I guess aesthetic philosophers have not come close to any sort of conclusion as of yet. In his 1896 article “What is Art,” Leo Tolstoy attempts to create a working definition for what art is: “Art begins when one person, with the object of joining another or others to himself in one and the same feeling, expresses that feeling by certain external indications.” Art “happens” when the artist wishes to express a particular feeling or emotion. He goes on to say that “the chief peculiarity… is that the receiver of a true artistic impression is so united to the artist that he feels as if the work was his own… If a man is infected by the author’s condition of the soul… then the object which has affected this is art. The stronger the infection, the better is the art as art, speaking now apart from the subject matter, i.e., not considering the quality of the feeling it transmits.”
What sets Tolstoy’s theory on art apart from others is his idea of infection. An object is art when it causes someone to have such an emotional response that they feel united with the work, the creator, and those who have also experienced it. He makes sure to point out the fact that this says nothing on the quality of the particular art, only that it is art. I remember a time playing “The Hobbit” on Playstation 2, and, after leaving the goblin tunnel in the Misty Mountains, looking out the long valley below, and having my breath taken away from the sheer beauty of it. In the game “EvE Online,” the player is the pilot of an interstellar space ship. To traverse the vast distances, the player often has to travel at faster-than-light speeds. Ignoring the scientific impossibility of actually seeing things at that speed, the player cannot help but feel a sense of wonder at the heavenly bodies speeding across the game screen around them.
Even when the game involves adolescent power fantasies, or promotes the so-called military-entertainment complex, the works’ existence as art is hard to dispute. If the designers intend to show the thrills of blowing away aliens with a laser assault rifle, and the player feels that particular emotion as they do as such, then the work is art. Even if it perceived immaturity, it has the power to reveal something about human nature. Their popularity, combined with the knee-jerk reaction from those outside the subculture of gaming, stands as testament to this fact.
The idea of infection becomes more interesting when one takes into account the burgeoning field of online game-play, especially in regards to massively multiplayer online games. The player creates a custom avatar that is “theirs,” a block of programming using the game’s framework that is unique to the player creating it, yet still not really created by the player. They did not, most of the time, code this avatar, and the options available to them are only those allotted by the developers. However, the avatar is undoubted the creation of the player, and there exists definite feelings of ownership. This is Tolstoy’s definition of art in the purest sense. The line between creator and consumer is blurred. A player enters these worlds, controls something he has “created,” and interacts in a virtual world he feels he is a part of, and can sometimes make drastic and lasting changes. Many of these games allow players to “own” property, furthering their connection with the work of art.
These games are also social; if they do not require players to team with other players, then the players at least interact on the most basic levels. These games have many people experiencing the same work at the same time, and possibly sharing the same emotional response. I know that when I down a raid boss in “World of Warcraft,” my team and I share our exuberance; we celebrate in a feeling of shared accomplishment.
Through all these reasons, games are indisputably works of art. One can certainly call into the question the societal value of such art. Players and critics can certainly ask that games become better art, more able to convey particular emotions to their players. However, it is impossible to contend that games contain no artistic value.