Computer graphics are the indisputable driving force underlying the development of video games in the 21st century. Given that we internalise experience based on stimuli we sense and interpret, video games have long sought to capitalise on this aspect of our nature.
When Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild was released, I could hardly believe how far the franchise had come. Purely in terms of graphics, the game had, according to John Linneman of Eurogamer, pushed the Wii U hardware "to the limit" –and it is sometimes evident on screen: as players engage enemies or trigger the game's physics engine, the game drops frames in order to keep the gaming experience as enthralling as possible.
Here, then, we see that a balance must be reached between gameplay and visual punctiliousness –a dichotomy between making the visual landscape of a video game as captivating as possible without sacrificing its gameplay.
Moreover, the evolution of computer graphics have allowed video game developers to envision and engender video games as a new type of art form –that is, it has allowed developers to place overwhelming emphasis on immersion as opposed to playability. A good example of this kind of video game is one by the name of "Dear Esther."
Ever since it was released as a free mod in 2008, it has been dividing players and critics alike. Originally an art project from a group of students at Portsmouth University in the UK, the game simply features a first-person player walking around the island of Hebrides, listening to philosophical voice overs concerning the player's pre-exisiting relationship with a so-called "Esther." Many argue that it spawned the "walking simulator" genre: games characterised by many as "dripping with atmosphere," but as "lacking playability."
So what does this say about artistic attempts to consolidate the presence of such video games in actuality? Well, as the title of an article by Dan Seitz from Uproxx puts it, such games are "more admirable" than they are "playable," and are therefore meant to entice the player in a different way. Perhaps it demonstrates the possibility, then, of utilising computer graphics to provoke wondrousness and entice players simply by means of contemplation.
In order to understand what has psychologically led us to value this sort of artistic expression in video games, when they are, by definition, supposed to be entrancing by virtue of their ability to dissolute our actual surroundings and immerse us into the world created by computer graphics, we must ask ourselves what it is that that activity, in essence, entails.
In a way, our sense of appreciation for the graphics of a video game is dissolved when we project onto a screen (i.e. onto something external) our desire to compete, to struggle, to overcome: the success of most video games –and particularly that of older video games– is based on their ability to pit players against each other, or at best, a computer enemy. In the modern age, however, games that emphasise admirability over playability launch us into a state of contemplation that redefines the way that we can appreciate video games; much like art, their goal is to simply express, depict, and in a way, celebrate our ability to interpret and behold.
