Ron Gilbert, Tim Schafer and Dave Grossman’s creation of Guybursh Threepwood in the Monkey Island games not only provided some escapism from my teenage studies, but also hinted at the power of dreams, and not taking yourself too seriously.
Video-games not only enable us to tell human stories, but they let us exist and live within those stories in unimaginable ways. They create new possibilities, introduce undreamt-of constructions and equip us to cope with the complex challenges of postmodern existence.
They let us curate stories in a way that has previously been reserved for artists. As Roger Ebert describes it:
Anyone who has ever painted or drawn knows the experience of dropping out of the world of words and time. A state of reverie takes over; there is no sensation of the passing of hours. The voice inside our head that allows us to talk to ourselves falls silent, and there is only color, form, texture and the way things flow together.
This is why video-games can become so important to gamers. Playing a video-game gives us privileged access to new imaginative ways to tell our human story. They invent ground breaking outcomes which have previously been undreamt of.
They not only enable us to imagine something bigger than ourselves, like religion or science or books or films, but invite us to instigate and own those creations. While films let us hold onto naiveté and hope and are an antidote to cynicism, video-games let us hold onto playfulness and ownership and are an antidote to exclusion and silence.
And yet, for all this benefit to the human heart, video-games are undeniably complex, confusing and at times violent and impenetrable. Finding a way to talk honestly about their shortcomings and thoughtfully about their opportunities is the domain of the critic.
