Although we typically refer to media such as books and film as passive inasmuch as their audiences do not directly impact the work, it has long been recognized that reading a story or watching a movie is to some variable extent an active engagement. Nonetheless, truly interactive media such as videogames clearly involve a more collaborative form of participation; one might describe a packaged title as an incomplete work of art waiting for a player to come along and dynamically cocreate its final release, not unlike a written play yet in need of an acting troupe. Appropriate language for discussing videogames is experiential—because videogames happen. We must speak of texture and flow and tactile feedback just as often as we elaborate upon mood or symbolism, for these constitute the very form of the performance. Unlike in a play, the basic nature of performing in one videogame is different from that in any other because each has a unique set of bodies for the actors, ways in which those bodies can move, rules about how those movements interact with the environment, and so on; each literally takes place within its own world, however great or small.
But what is the experience of playing a videogame? Well, in Mario games, we feel momentum and its effects upon our joyful leaps, contrasted with the tight, deadly circumstances of perilous floating platforms and a veritable zoo of odd creatures that all share the common ability to end our fun with the slightest touch. Shadow of the Colossus is at bottom about lacking control as we rely upon the navigational intelligence of our stead and clumsily flail about landscapes or up giant beasts, tripping over our feet or desperately holding on as we are tossed about. Bionic Commando is simply defined by the inability to jump. And when we play a role-playing or real-time strategy game, we feel the physical push and pull of navigating the user interface and menu systems while developing an indirect aesthetic awareness of the crunch of a sword blow, the indistinct bubble of a water attack, or the way in which our units interact (or don’t) with the playing field. These visceral experiences actually take on the qualities of what would in other media be called theme, as they are both pervasive and often mirrored or paralleled by the wider game structure or narrative.
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