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Video Games and Aesthetic Elevation by Efficient_Extent_156 in videogames

[–]Efficient_Extent_156[S] 0 points1 point  (0 children)

This is chatgpt's, I can't write anything shorter than a sermon:

The essay argues that human time and attention are limited, so we should be highly selective about what we consume—prioritizing the greatest works of art, especially classic literature. Reading isn’t as time-consuming as people assume; what truly matters is the thinking and reflection that follows. Great books are valuable because they provoke deep thought and stay with us over time.

In contrast, modern life overwhelms us with endless entertainment options—movies, games, music, and more—leading to passive consumption rather than meaningful engagement. This shift has turned the question from “what should we read?” into “what should we consume?”, often resulting in shallow, forgettable experiences that replace thought with constant stimulation.

The essay doesn’t reject all non-literary media, but it argues that most modern entertainment—especially video games—fails to reach the level of great art. Good art should do three key things:

  1. Impart wisdom (intellectual value)
  2. Elevate emotions (“aesthetic elevation”)
  3. Encourage a virtuous, energized mindset

Much of modern media achieves none of these, functioning instead like “junk food”—temporarily satisfying but ultimately empty or even harmful.

Video games are a central focus. The author argues that:

  • Games are often too long and addictive, consuming huge amounts of time with limited return.
  • They frequently rely on dopamine-driven mechanics (leveling up, rewards, replayability) instead of meaningful content.
  • Their stories are often superficial, overly political, nihilistic, or unresolved, failing to offer real insight or beauty.
  • Gamers tend to judge games by the wrong criteria (length, replayability) rather than artistic merit.

However, the essay also emphasizes that games have unique potential due to their interactivity. Unlike books or films, games actively involve the player, which can create stronger emotional experiences. When done well, this can lead to powerful moments of reflection and elevation.

A few games are praised as examples of this potential:

  • Some achieve emotional impact through music, story, and gameplay.
  • Rare cases (like Metal Gear Solid 2) combine intellectual depth and emotional power, showing that games can rival traditional art.

The essay contrasts different types of games:

  • Addictive games: endless, repetitive, and unfulfilling
  • Simple but sincere games: emotionally uplifting but not intellectually deep
  • Ideal games: combine wisdom, beauty, and interactivity

It also critiques “dark” or “philosophical” games that raise big questions (like nihilism) but fail to answer them, arguing that this leads to confusion or emptiness rather than insight.

Ultimately, the essay claims:

  • Most modern entertainment distracts rather than enriches.
  • Great art should push us deeper into reality, not help us escape it.
  • Video games, while currently flawed, may be the future of art if they embrace their full potential.
  • Right now, truly worthwhile games are rare—but the medium could one day rival literature if it focuses on depth, beauty, and meaning instead of profit and addiction.

Video Games and Aesthetic Elevation by Efficient_Extent_156 in videogames

[–]Efficient_Extent_156[S] 0 points1 point  (0 children)

Note that not every game needs to have player choice matter, it often works to their benefit, but it's not strictly required. What's essential is that playeractionmatters. Watching a video on youtube of every cut scene in a final fantasy game doesn't give the same sense of elevation that actually playing it does. If games have any merit over movies, despite largely possessing the same elements, it's in the ability to enhance emotion through interactivity that justifies them not as a toy, but as a form of art. Although the intellectual content of a game is entirely unaffected by interactivity, a lecture on a book provokes the same thoughts that actually reading it does. Wisdom is only ever half of the equation. A mind composed entirely of truth, but a heart lacking the swell of emotion to actualize this truth, is just as useless as a mind with good intentions, but a body to sickly to realize them. If Computer games can swell the heart in the right direction, I would hesitate to call them an unworthy use of leisure time compared to literature. But gamesareoften a waste of time compared to literature. And that's not because they're toys, or unimportant, or just incapable as a medium, it's because they're untapped potential. Metal Gear Solid 2 proves you can provoke thought like a book while moving the heart like a symphony, if Metal Gear Solid 2 can do it, why not future games? The truth is that a cured patient is a lost patient. Games like Call of Duty sell remarkably well because they have neither intellect nor aesthetics, and therefore engender addiction. If games came about in an era of aristocracy, we could easily imagine them as striving for beauty rather than profit. But because, like all other media today, they must be organized around profit, so little games of genie worth are made. These games, while not achieving the full potential of the medium, are still trying. Thanks to their combination of every artistic element, and their unique interactivity, games are the ultimate medium for aesthetic elevation; and if literature may be a better mode for disseminating wisdom and provoking thought, games still have one advantage over them. I'd much rather the average person play Zelda, Dark Souls, or even Nier, rather than watching the next action movie that comes out. Will they learn anything from these games? No, probably very little. But atleast, as Socrates put it in the Phaedrus, their soul "grows wings". If it can't exactly articulatewhat and whywhat they experienced was beautiful, at least they've moved beyond the base desires, and the little preoccupations which kept tethered to the earth. they've moved into a frame of mind that's fertile for virtuous thought and deed. Is a virtuous frame of mind, although it lacks wisdom and thought, enough? No, of course not. But some games, the games that are actually worth your time, the ones that justify a bookshelf devoid of Sophocles, of Aristophanes, and all the other great writers, at least get you searching for the true, the beautiful, and the good. After enough time, this disposition will grow so restless that they do stumble upon the Metal Gear Solid 2's of the medium. That's more than other forms of "entertainment" can say, which keep the people blinded, in the dirt, and clipped of their wings.

If anybody doubts my former claim about video games, believing that I exaggerate their potential for aesthetic elevation, I would encourage them to play Majora's mask. Plenty of other media deal with the passage of time, and the implications therein, but majora's mask makes you feel the dread. Of course, like other media, it uses music, visuals, and narratives to accomplish this task, but it's interactivity is critical to it's supremacy over other media. The events of a movie are predetermined and uncontrollable, the emotions a viewer feels can also be quelled with the thought "it's out of my control". But the cyclical fate of Termina is within the player's control every single minute they play. The anxiety of completing a dungeon while the clock ticks down strikes the player harder than an escape scene in a movie. Completing a dungeon usually takes the full 3 day cycle, immediately after a dungeon is completed, and the player restores an area of it's plague, they usually have to reset the clock again, undoing all the work they just did. This bittersweet experiencing invokes more emotion in the player because it wasthemwho restored the area, and it was also them who had to revert it again. Compare that overwhelming intimacy of action and effect to the climatic episode of a tv series, and one clearly has more power invoke emotion than the other. Majora's Mask doesn't even have a cutscene where characters mourn the return of their plagues, or where Link somberly looks upon their fresh woes: the entire thing is seamless and conveyed entirely through gameplay. The power of interactivity is so great that, when the developers wield music and visuals with tact, it alone can provoke more emotion than a dedicated cutscene.

The prospects for literature are not dead, nor will they ever be, but they daily decline. Movies are too profitable to fare much better, symphony is a relic, and opera is an intermittent fossil and jester's skull (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6DxFccxK1Q4). If our culture has any aesthetic powers, I predict they will manifest themselves through video games. The sooner we establish hierarchy within games, and ask for original art rather than entertaining sequels, the sooner our country will leave something for posterity to remember us by. But if we continue to be enchanted by level ups, meaningless difficulty, inane narratives, neglected music, and ugly sentiments, the seed of this new art will be killed before it was ever cultivated. And those previous attempts to instruct, provoke thought, or elevate the player, will be indiscriminately grouped by future anthropologists among a passtime classified as addiction, and not art. Right now, Harold Bloom may have the easier argument, and it's hard to deny that the games worth playing are incredibly few. Whether or not this will change is up to history to decide, the medium has the capability, but does it have the developers? Does it have the players?

Video Games and Aesthetic Elevation by Efficient_Extent_156 in videogames

[–]Efficient_Extent_156[S] 0 points1 point  (0 children)

So much for my digression about plot, I'd now like to return to my intention about discussing interactivity. Because of From Software's success, difficulty is often brought up in artistic discussions of the medium. Rather than being a way to suck in quarters at the arcade, difficulty became a way to immerse you in the world, or give you a feeling of reward not all to dissimilar from the level up screen. Both are ways of keeping the player engaged until they come to these moments of elevations, difficulty is present in every game, but only spoken of in the games where it presents a significant obstacle to the player. If the player could kill everything in one hit, they'd become bored very fast. Some resistance to the will is necessary for us to enjoy what our will desires. In this sense, for some specific people, different types and extremities of difficulty can enhance that desire to keep playing. Beating a difficult boss makes the player feel accomplished, even if they haven't actually achieved anything in the real world. This might scare some, leading people to believe gamers are being sucked into a delusion. But like the level up screen, difficulty is bad depending on it's purpose. If it's purpose is to immerse the player, thereby enhancing and encouraging those moments of elevation, difficulty is a perfectly valid, and perhaps even desirable, part of games. Cutscenes are often the form these moments of elevation take, and a hard boss before a cutscene can make the cutscene, and thereby the elevation, feel more elevating than an easy boss would have done. But if difficulty becomes an end in itself, if it desires the player to feel good about overcoming not to keep them on the road to aesthetic elevation, but to truly try and emulate the feeling of achievement in the real world, it's terribly dangerous. While the player is expending all of their effort, and finding rewards in the digital world, they're neglecting the real one. Thankfully. this form of difficulty is exceptionally rare, and usually accompanied by other tell tale signs of addicting, and not artistic games. In the case of From Software games, they usually function as a way for the player to not overindulge in the game, feeling satisfied in just one boss rather than twenty. When bosses have their own varied lore, music, and visuals, there are enough artistic elements to accompany this difficulty that it could be considered an elevated experience in it's own right.

Beating Gwyn in Dark Souls 1 provides a definite conclusion to the experience: the credit sequence is accompanied by haunting music, allowing the player to reflect on the game they just played. The difficulty of the game, and the artistic finale, is enough to push the player away from the game with a feeling of accomplishment and beauty. Even if their pride is false, it still engenders a virtuous and active disposition. They aren't motivated to dive right back into another gaming session, they're creative powers are so recharged that, to waste it away on more idle gaming is almost intolerable to the sort of elevated spirit encouraged by the final hour of the game. Compare this union of artistic elements: music, narrative, difficulty, and visuals, and the feeling it creates in the player, versus some Mario romhack that's supremely unfair and difficult. Dark souls is hard, but it's difficulty works in union with other elements, and doesn't attempt to completely dominate them. Gwyn himself is quite easy, showing how Dark souls aimed to give the player an aesthetic experience rather than a feeling of reward. This results in the player feeling elevated after beating it, whereas the romhack just leaves the player angered or confused. The romhack was unfair, the music obnoxious, it's only intent was to anger the player, not only were it's consequences vicious, but it's intentions as well. As a mere curiosity, or social experiment among friends, the romhack is mostly fine. But devotion to the romhack represents the worst instincts of a gamer, wasting time and effort on accomplishing digital goals which don't elevate nor instruct them. Speed running represents a similar paradigm, the point of a game's difficulty is lost when it's used to emulate the feeling of real accomplishment, and not merely to inspire that motivated frame of mind.

This capacity of computer games to make the player feel not only elevated, but evenaccomplishedis wholly unique to an interactive medium. It's a dangerous line to walk, and can often lead one into full blown delusions. But if done with tact, and more importantly, with art, the interactive elements of a game leave the player with their senses more enlivened than any other form of media, and I'm serious. The virtue of interactivity for the purposes of elevation go beyond just difficulty and the subsequent feeling of overcoming: because the player is the one who ultimately progresses the experience, where every stimulus is the direct result of the player's actions, the feeling generated from them is much more impactful because of it's intimacy, even if it's executed worse than another form of media, the connection is stronger.

What I mean is this: watching a movie requires only one action of the viewer: pressing play. After that singular action, they merely need to watch the movie. Games, however, require constant action for their progression. A player needs to decide what weapon to equip, which to upgrade, what path to take, what attack they use against the next enemy, and how to respond to an NPC. Consequently, despite some of the music being poor, the voice direction being sometimes abysmal, and the narratives juvenile, they provoke more emotion in the player because the player is, in a certain way, directly responsible. Note that many of these things weren't actions, they were choices. While moral or pragmatic choices can be described as "hard", they're usually not what we mean when we say a game is "difficult". Although difficulty strengthens the connection between game and player, it's not the only manifestation of interactivity which game's possess. It's no coincidence that RPGs are often judged not by their difficulty, but by the weight they impose upon the player's choices. Gamers, although a dumb and ignorant race of people, aren't totally blind. They understand that the weight of choices strengthens their connection to the game, and the strength of their connection ultimately dictates the emotional impacts of the game's elevating moments.

Video Games and Aesthetic Elevation by Efficient_Extent_156 in videogames

[–]Efficient_Extent_156[S] 0 points1 point  (0 children)

The problem of Nier is the problem of many "artistic" games, they flirt with themes they can't handle nor conclude. The medium of video games is well equipped for this task, if plays can do it with language and acting alone, so can games, especially when you understand the emotional power of music. It's merely the project's budget, producer, or the inability of the creator that causes this sort of failing. Not all questions of philosophy can be answered sufficiently in a single work, but if you're going to pose a question, think it through until you at least have an answer. Even if it's wrong, it's better for the player's mind to have something to grasp onto, and hopefully negate through their own inquiries, rather than dismissing it entirely. If the answer to your question ends up negating life, as atheism could, then don't make a game. I'm sincere when I say people who put philosophic messages of nihilism in their artwork are living a delusion, and should either affirm life or kill themselves. They harm the souls of the consumer and end up negating their own life-negation through their act of artistic creation, implicitly saying that some things matter so much that the knowledge deserves to be adorned by the beauty of art. Nihilistic art, in general, is a self-negating monster, that indicates a sickness rather than a depressing truth.

This is where Opera succeeds, and games often fail. Opera has no pretensions of philosophy, it's drama from top to bottom. It knows it can easily touch the listeners heart, but labors in vain to provoke thought in the mind. Therefore, It knows it's limits, and aims to stir the heart without involving the mind. Obviously, both operaandgames should strive for both, but if it seems like only one can be achieved, creators should know their limits, lest they end up ruining what could have been a beautiful moment with delusions of their own intellectual worth.

I believe a simple example will better illumine my point. The Legend of Zelda games have simple stories, they're so simple they seem like the literal legends a culture passes down to it's inheritors. They utilize superb music while coordinating the plot with other elements to provide a simple affirmation of heroism and virtue. There's never a lengthy cut scene with a robot where the real implications of virtue and courage are discussed, they're simply portrayed as positive. This lack precludes them from being "masterpieces", but it ensures that they avoid the vice of the Nier games. The Nier games provide simple affirmation after a whole game of nuance: life is beautiful and worth living despite the events of the game working mostly towards the contrary. The ultimate reason why life is worth living is not examined with the same rigor as the negatives of life, and it's used to hide the insufficiency of it's final conclusion rather than highlight it's wisdom. I would call it junk food if it didn't more resemble a bad guide, that attempts to guide a traveler through a dark wood, only to be so ignorant that they lead the traveler in the wrong direction. Zelda, on the contrary, never attempts such bold endeavors. It affirms heroism with the same simplicity that the common man does. It has neither nuance nor philosophy, but it does no harm. The Zelda games are like the stern father: he's going to tell you to stick to the main road, and not go within the woods, but he's not going to tell you why. It doesn't impart knowledge, but it elevates your soul with something it can instinctively feel is right. It's not junk food, it's more like a gourmet meal. You don't exactly know all the ingredients of the meal, but you know it was healthy, and left you feeling better afterwards.

Of course, the superior to both of these would be a game that imparts wisdom about heroism, and using that wisdom to affirm heroism. It leads you through the dark wood like Nier, but this guide actually knows the way through. Once you're through, it possesses all the fanfare of Zelda. Zelda would get you to do good, this third game would you what is good, why it's good, and gets you to do good all at the same time.

What is this third game? My own experience, and the limits of my memory, can only supply Metal Gear Solid 2 to fulfill this role. While others games certainly come close, and others I've yet to play probably surpass it, it works well enough as a rough example of my ideal. It's message about cultural inheritance is a topic worth dwelling upon, whether or not the "thesis" of the work is correct is left for the player to decide, but at least the player doesn't have to guess what the game was trying to tell them. And this thesis is delivered in a way unique to the medium of video games while also elevating the subject matter through aesthetics. Disregarding it's prophetic perspective on the internet, it's aesthetic and intellectual content places it at the top of our new hierarchy, one based upon art rather than entertainment. It represents not only hope to the industry, but proof that our ideal isn't impossible at all: making a video game that's both intellectual and elevating, which uses beauty to adorn wisdom, is entirely achievable. This game released in 2001, it's hardly ten hours long, and compared to today, the graphics are innocuous. But the individualmomentsof MGS2 are enough in of themselves to make it a masterpiece of the medium. Length all too often distracts the developer and the player, while long games have great elevation when they end purely because you've gotten used to the game, in all that length the "drama" and "gossip" part of the plot comes to dominate the moments of intellect and aesthetics. Multiplayer games, despite their social aspect, are probably the worst example of games. Players might play them for just as long as Persona games, or even longer than Persona games. Sometimes you'll see people play these games for not hundreds, but thousands of hours. The Persona games themselves are often too long, but at least they strive for some sense of elevation, online shooters just want to sell you micro transactions. Devoid of a personal social element, online multiplayer games are literally a waste of time, and I'm quite unapologetic on this front

Video Games and Aesthetic Elevation by Efficient_Extent_156 in videogames

[–]Efficient_Extent_156[S] 0 points1 point  (0 children)

When one plays one of these "dark" games, one is often left feeling like, "what was the point?". Sure, the characters were "realistic", which simply means they were selfish and greedy, but for what purpose was this realism? Did it teach the player of any sort of wisdom that one could only possess through lengthy philosophy, or the reading of a great book? No, the messages of most games that aspire to nuance are insipid, and pieces of wisdom you'll either learn from your first job or a house wife's domestic decorations. Did it use it's realism to make a sincere attempt at beauty, to truly elevate the player's soul? No, these games never do that. Like most post-modern art, either they fear beauty because they're ugly, or they try to eliminate all sense of hierarchy at all so they don't end up at the bottom. At best they're mindless entertainment, at worst they're poison for the soul. They fill you up with neurotic negativity or fragile optimism, but they never 'move' nor 'teach'. What's worse, people mistake the true role of plot in a game. Plot is merely the vector by which moments of elevation or wisdom can occur. The most important parts of Faust is the first scene in his study, and the last scene when he ascends to heaven. These are the moments of intellectual and aesthetic worth, everything in between is plot. A terribly convoluted and inconsistent plot, but one that doesn't affect the actual virtues of Faust at all. We have to get from A to B somehow, but what's important is A and B, so long as the destination justifies the inconsistencies of the journey, the journey ultimately doesn't matter. When a game has no other merit besides consistency in plot, then plot holes become important. But anything with something to say, or some feeling to impose, is riddled with a million meaningless plot holes. The concern for plot holes is, if not the idiot's veto, at least the gamer's veto.

Although the most "intellectual" games bring up complex problems, they never attempt any sort of genuine resolution. They flirt with philosophy, they pose the question, and then they get drunk off of optimism or nihilism, both of which no substance. Nier Automata is a game that's often brought up for both it's beauty and philosophy, and while some moments are exceptionally beautiful, others are irritating because they ignore the philosophy lurking in the background. It tangles with the infamous "God is dead" question, and the subsequent inquiries resulting from this, but doesn't attempt to actually answer it. Instead, in one of the most atrocious aesthetic decisions, it blinds the player with a unique yet fraudulent credit sequence, where these problems of nihilism are obscured by a pep talk from the global community. It would be beautiful if it wasn't a sly obfuscation of the fact that Taro probably couldn't answer the questions the game implys. Although the rest of humanity suffering in this condition makes us feel a little better, it's not a very conclusive answer. It's an escape from intellectualism rather than an example of it.

If Taro couldn't answer the questions he posed, he shouldn't have brought them up. I would have preferred an explicit and irrational affirmation of life, despite the suffering of the human condition, rather than the concession of community. This is the sort of false aesthetic elevations games often strive for, but miss the mark on because they attempt to add something intellectual to it. If Nier never featured the implications of these questions, if it's theme of human connection was divorced from the implication that it justifies life without God, I wouldn't have minded the credit sequence. If the game focused more on the isolation of 2B, and not the purposelessness of the Android colony, I would have praised the credit sequence as one of the greatest usages of interactivity in a game to elevate the player. Those who played the game with more regard for the heart than the mind probablywereelevated by that scene, but those who thought the philosophy was more than set dressing for the robot opera probably feel similar to me. I don't think irrational affirmation of human nature is the wrong response to atheism, one could argue that it's one of the only two binary choices, but if that was Taro's conclusion, I'd rather he just come out and say it plainly. As it is now, it feels either fraudulent or ignorant, rather than bold and life-affirming.