Perception is an interesting thing. We see what we want to see. Some would even say we first project the world using our mind and then re-perceive it as if somehow it got there by itself. And we forget we projected it. We let the world tell us what is out there. We allow the body to relay messages to us as to what it senses and what is happening around it. It paints for us the picture of a world external to us. But the mind has more of a role than just to perceive what is out there, it’s primary role is in fact to `put there` what it wishes to see. It’s an hallucination of a world. It is only the degree of our awareness of projecting it in the first place, that wavers.
We also perceive the past. As we go through life we gather patterns and re-cognitions of what has already been experienced. Over time we build up a generalized and more focussed image in our minds of what something is. Initially we don’t know a banana from a bird, but as we identify more birds and more bananas we make associations that help us to form an idea of separate objects. So now we recognize bananas, and we know they can’t fly. But then what is happening in the mind when we look at a banana? We see the banana which is out there, and we see the many bananas in our minds, at the same time. We compare them and make decisions based on this judgement. Perception is all about selecting between things, after all.
If I learned a native language, English perhaps, and associated the word `banana` with these curvy yellow things, over time I would come to pull up `banana references` in my mind upon seeing this word. This helps me distinguish it, to define it, to gather together ideas of it and generalizations of it – the essence of what a banana is. Now I can know a banana when I see one. But what if I now learn French, and the word for banana is something else? I don’t recognize banana’s in French. I could pull up a banana and not know its name, or pull up the French word and not know what it associates with. All of this is happening in the mind as we learn to make associations, and re-imaginings of what we are perceiving.
And so now we have experienced bananas, and their labels, and have seen them from various angles, and recognize their shape, and know them to be mostly yellow curvy fruits with peelable skins. So now what happens when we see only a flat, two-dimensional, one-color filled vector graphic of a banana? There isn’t much to it, maybe not even a yellow color, but we know it is a banana. In our mind, we still experience bananas. All of those past bananas come back as associated references and we re-see them in our mind along with the symbol. We match the symbol to our mental images from the past, and oh yes, that’s definitely a banana right there.
We then look at magazines or tv shows and we see whole scenes of what are supposedly people and places, but none of these scenes are actually people or places. They are just flat meaningless unrelated images on a screen or page. How do they suddenly become people and places, in our mind, and in our perception? And how is it that we can experience these things as if they are really there, those people are really on the screen, really out there, really having real experiences, that I’m starting to feel emotional about? We aren’t really relating to the flat images on the screen, we’re relating to the images in our mind which are massively elaborating on what we are looking at.
So where is the movie? Where is the tv show? Where is the magazine or book story? It’s in our minds, in our imagination, in our ability to cunjour up both old and new images mentally, and with little effort. This is where pictures are painted. Let’s look again at another symbol, perhaps this time a triangle. Is it a pyramid? Do you think pharaohs and Egyptians? Are you thinking prisms with light beams refracting? Do you think potato chips? Those triangular bananas you saw at the genetic engineering museum?
The point is, probably most of what we experience has already been experienced. We seldom are so completely present with what IS, and only what is, to see it for how it truly is. We are constantly projecting the past, and our imaginings, onto the world. We are constantly interpreting it, giving it meaning, adjusting it and warping it in our minds. We walk around living as though there is really a world out there, when maybe there is only a world `in here`? What if the whole world is in the imagination of our mind, where our mind is infinite, and where our little bodily selves are but aspects of our own imagination?
So let’s apply this to computer games. There are two camps. One strives for `realism`, the other for `abstraction`, symbolism and art. Not that realism isn’t art, sometimes. The overwhelming majority of computer games focus on striving for realism. More and more textures, more pixels, more colors, more triangles, more lighting and shadows, more animation, more lifelike, more physics, etc. Trying to make it `seem real`. But `real` in this world isn’t just the world outside of us, it’s what’s in our mind – we make up our own realities as we go along.
We don’t NEED realism in order to apply our preconditioned associations to new experiences. We do it all the time with our prejudices, judgements, preconceived notions, preferences, likes and dislikes. If we were in the `now` we would not have any of these. But we pretend not to be in the now, preferring instead a fantasy. And within this fantasy we like to forget sometimes that we are the ones who are dreaming this world, making it how we want it to be.
Realistic games aim toward the suggestion that our minds don’t really have much of a part to play in creating the world. Such games quite typically are drenched in egocentric contexts – death and killing, etc. Such games suggest that we’re so unaware, so asleep, and so unconscious of who we really are, that we have totally forgotten that we had anything to do with making up the reality we’re experiencing. It’s a kind of Newtonian Duslistic belief system where only the physical world is real. And lots of people think that way. So maybe that’s why lots of people like realistic games. But a game doesn’t have to be realistic to be enjoyable, or understandable. People are plenty intelligent enough to comprehend commonly-agreed-to symbolism.
All of our life experiences, especially those which we experience together, usually steer our model of the toward the same meanings. We speak the same language, or we think the same about a foreign country or race, or we mostly agree that war is a bad thing. These meanings are in our minds and it is the content of our minds that is the language we speak. It is what’s in our minds that comes OUT of our minds and into the world. And it is only later that what’s outside of us seems to come back to tell us what it is. We already knew – we put it there ourselves with our powerful creative imagining.
And so realism is not required in a game. Realism almost suggests to the mind that the mind doesn’t know anything about what the world means, and that it therefore needs to have the world explain to it in immense detail and believability what it comprises. It suggests that we need lighting and shadows to be perfect otherwise we might not understand clues about depth or perspective. It suggests we need to see millions of polygons on-screen otherwise we just won’t truly `believe` that we’re looking at a real environment. It suggests that our mind is itself not able to take any leaps, being so dull, and that we can only understand what is explicitly told to us in the most intense way. Does this awaken the mind or put it to sleep still further?
What if we recognize that the mind is creative, powerful, inventive, has imagined everything it has seen, and needs nobody to tell it what anything means? What if we can cater to the innate understanding already present in the mind, working with it instead of against it, and certainly not ignoring it all together. Do we really need to be brain dead to play mindless games? Why are they called mindless, except that they require no real participation on your part? Are they just an illusion of `immense interactivity`, masquerading as so immersible and believable when in fact the further they travel down that path the less believable they become?
Instead of fighting the mind, what if we work with it, and allow it to do what it does best. What if we stimulate it to imagine and create? What if we utilize its established sense of meaning and purpose instead of trying to force new meaning and purpose down its throat? What if games don’t have to be realistic to be understandable or fun? What if we don’t need a game to say `hey stupid, this is a real spaceship`, when our mind is perfectly capable of filling in the blanks? Show it a vague outline of a spaceship and it’ll say, oh, that’s a spacehip. So.. what is all the rest of the detail for? Does it really tell us anything?
Realism often also dictates that we should do everything in the game `how it would really be` in the `real world`. This means you now have to emulate and simulate every possible law of physics, chemistry and biology in order for your game to be good enough. It doesn’t do to just fake the physics now, you have to be processing millions of real-world physically-simulated objects with all the proper rebounding and colliding and reacting. But if you think about it, how does the player know that a particular explosion would look a particular way? How do they know that object x y and z are supposed to be over here when there are in fact over there? Does the mind really need this? And when we design games do we really need to worry about making something `exact` to make it believable? Does the player really know the difference between `physically accurate` and `looks pretty realistic`? We don’t have to model precise simulations, we only have to model possibilities.
When did you last need high resolutions 3d graphics in order to be immersed in the imagery of a good book? Immersion means *mental* involvement, not blinding the mind with alarming fictions pretending to be real.
But realistic games are better right? Scarier? More intense? More real? More something? How about.. if the mind imagined something and thought it was real, even though it wasn’t, wouldn’t it be more scared? Why do we want to be more scared? Fear serves no healthy purpose. Realistic games seem to go hand in hand with terror, nightmares, the living dead, blood and drool and vomit and every vulgar thing. Is it any surprise, that if simple imaginings were made to seem real to a mind which knows them not to be, that we would be scared half to death? And we like doing this to ourselves? Is there a happy nightmare? No.
So maybe we don’t really need realism. Maybe it is self defeating. After all, the more realistic something seems to be, which is not, the more it undermines everything. For the price of a short term rush of excitement, we end up with darkness and lethargy and meaninglessness. Where is the light?
What if we produced games which don’t need realism to be fun or playful or interactive or immersive or addictive? How about a game like the recently released VVVVVVV (maybe with more V’s), a fun and highly mentally-challenging puzzle platform game. The graphics are by no means realistic. But do we know we’re controlling a little man as our character? Yes we do. Does he have texture-mapped ray-traced hair follicles? No. Do we know we’re jumping over spikes? Yes. Do we need the spikes to be intricately dripping with blood stains and globally illuminated in realtime? No.
Here is the question. If in our mind we play a simple game with simple graphics and we have an enjoyable experience, and if we play a game with highly realistic graphics and have the *same level of enjoyment*, then doesn’t this mean that it has absolutely nothing to do with the level of realism? Realism might make you go `wow` or `thats impressive` but does it change what happens in our minds? Do simple, unrealistic games do a better job of entertaining our mental stimulus than a dull lifeless copycat blood-gore shooter? Are millions of dollars really needed to produce an excellent fun experience? No.
I suppose you could say that if our experience is determined by what’s happening in our mind, and that it’s the manipulation/activation of mental processes that determines our entire experience of a game, then it really doesn’t matter for-or-against whether you use realism or not. Maybe more people are fooled into thinking that `impressive realism` equals `a great experience`. It may or may not. And the same goes for simple games with `unrealistic` graphics. It’s not the presence or absence of realism that makes a game fun, it’s the presence of an engaged mind.
So the question should be, how do we engage the mind, get it operating, draw upon what it knows, get it to create, put it in touch with its power, enlighten it, bring it joy, help it to know peace, and relieve it of troubles? Answer that and maybe you’ll create a great game. It is what the mind uses the game for that is important. Does it use it to darken and lose itself, or does it use it to increase joy? For none of these things are ultimately inherent in the game itself, it is only in our decision as to how to experience the game, a game which we project from our minds, that is important. For ultimately there are no games but the ones we play with ourselves.




Pardon me!