The term “Digital art” is often used to describe pictures, videos, music, and combinations of these media types, but it is sometimes overlooked that video games may be passed over in receiving this title. The assets used in creation of a game’s rendition, the sounds within its environments, and the design of the visuals are artistic expressions, but these are not where the most emotionally influential experiences can arise. Interaction is a very powerful tool to affect emotional investment into the artwork such that the intended meaning can be conveyed, and games offer an unrivaled sense of immersion. Interactive artwork is interesting in that the interactions the user provides determine the experience they are presented, granting a unique result to each viewer. This type of art also provides introspection through the realization that the art the viewer sees is a reflection of some aspect of themselves or their behavior.
My friend had an experience, thanks to a video game named “Journey,”[1] which was wrought with a massive range of emotions from the depths of hopelessness to the heights of joy. He described it to me as the most moving and powerful experiences a video game has ever granted him, and the most amazing part is that it was entirely a fluke, a stroke of chance and luck; he could not find another person who had experienced the same events, as they were the product of the sandbox of user interaction the game facilitates between other viewers, carefully, few and far between.
The story begins with my friend, in the desert. He slides down the sand dunes, moving somewhere but with no intended goal or direction. He sees another person, off in the distance, and calls out to them; they hear his call, and the two meet up. They slide the dunes, playfully, and, some time later, reach the end of the desert.
The terrain shifts, becoming bleak gravel, stone, and eventually ice. The wind pushes the pair forward, such that they can no longer turn around. The wind gives way to a storm of ice and snow, and the pair huddle together for warmth and to help protect each other from the driving wind on their ascent of the mountain ahead.
Suddenly, a rock gives way, and my friend is separated from his companion, sliding down the face of a cliff into a canyon of snow. He sees them upon the mountain, and tries to climb to them, but the cliff is sheer. The storm deepens, and he can no longer hear his friend calling out in response to his own shouts. My friend, saddened, decides to continue walking toward the top of the mountain, where the only visible sunshine still appears. His light grows dim without his companion to share the burden of the cold, and his calls in search of his friend are a mere whimper, silent beneath the wind.
Just as he is about to freeze, barely able to move or speak, he sees something in the distance; it’s his companion! They don’t see him, he panics, so close but so far; he musters all of his remaining strength to call out one last time, and his companion hears him and responds, dashing to reach my friend as his last spent effort leads him to succumb to the cold. They reach him, and the warmth is shared. After warming my friend, the two push through the storm together, their efforts redoubled with their reunion. They reach the light at the top of the mountain, and they see hundreds of others like them waiting beyond its peak, and they call out.
My friend experienced a profound sadness at the loss of his companion, and then the ecstatic joy of being reunited. All of this emerged from a simple game with minimal graphical details, an analog stick for movement, and one button for communication in the course of 45 minutes. This is why video games amaze me.
[1] Journey. Thatgamecompany. 2012. Video game.
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