“I am Andrew Ryan, and I’m here to ask you a question. Is a man not entitled to the sweat of his brow? ‘No!’ says the man in Washington, ‘It belongs to the poor.’ ‘No!’ says the man in the Vatican, ‘It belongs to God.’ ‘No!’ says the man in Moscow, ‘It belongs to everyone.’ I rejected those answers; instead, I chose something different. I chose the impossible. I chose… [the underwater city] Rapture, a city where the artist would not fear the censor, where the scientist would not be bound by petty morality, Where the great would not be constrained by the small! And with the sweat of your brow, Rapture can become your city as well.”
—Andrew Ryan
Old news to most, new to me. I just read Roger Ebert’s statement that, essentially, video games are not—and never will be—art. At least not art on the same plane as films and literature. How could one even begin to compare the artistic merit of a classic play like Hamlet to a modern video game like Bioshock? Ridiculous, right?
Actually, it’s not.
Now, I wouldn’t be so bold as to argue that Bioshock (or any game for that matter) is superior to classic films or literature. Rather, I’d like to express frustration with anyone who claims something can’t be art, when clearly the viewing or experiencing of art is a wholly subjective experience.
The American Heritage dictionary defines art as “The conscious production or arrangement of sounds, colors, forms, movements, or other elements in a manner that affects the sense of beauty, specifically the production of the beautiful in a graphic or plastic medium” (source).
So in that sense, if I played Bioshock, which is viewed on a “medium” (a computer screen), and it invoked a sense of beauty, wouldn’t it be art?
Ebert also writes, “I believe art is created by an artist. If you change it, you become the artist.” His assertion here is that video games allow for players to make many decisions, thus affecting the outcome of the game. Therefore, games can’t possibly be art because the artist can’t “control” everything that player/viewer sees or does.
But I take issue with that assertion. Here’s why: take a college course and read Macbeth or Hamlet or any Shakespearian work. At the end of the class, after everyone has read the play, ask each person in the class to say what it was about—you will get 30 different answers. I took several Shakespeare courses, and—in each class—nearly every student in the room experienced a different play than the next student.
Isn’t that semi-ambiguous quality what makes Shakespeare so good? I mean, how many authors can weave a tale that leaves an entire classroom full of educated people coming up with dozens of interpretations of what it was about? A select few. In the same vein, Bioshock has created a world in which you feel the moral ramifications of your actions. You make choices, and those choices affect your interpretation of the experience!
Take the witches in Macbeth as an example of what I’m talking about. Were they real or a product of Macbeth and Banquo’s imaginations? In this scene, Banquo asks, “”Were such things here as we do speak about?/Or have we eaten on the insane root/That takes the reason prisoner?” (I, iii., ll.83-85). Shakespeare writes his witches ambiguously enough where the reader must make a choice: are they literal witches, a vision, or…something else? That choice will then affect how he/she interprets the rest of the play. Can we blame the witches for Macbeth’s madness and moral decay, or—if the witches aren’t real—was he mad from the start?
Does that freedom of choice degrade Macbeth’s artistic value or merit? Not at all. If anything, the freedom to interpret the play many different ways enhances its artistic value. Therefore, with Shakespeare as our “benchmark,” it’s safe to say that great artistic works often allow viewers/readers to view/read the same thing and walk away with entirely different experiences.
It is no different with video games.
Having played through Bioshock, I can say there were definitely times in the game where I had to stop and say, “Wow.” Was it beautiful? Yes, beautifully disturbing, like when you finally confront Andrew Ryan, the game’s initial antagonist. In a dark and moving scene, Ryan contemplates the difference between a man and a slave, after which he orders you to kill him. Having undergone brainwashing, your character mindlessly obeys, proving Ryan’s point. The real thing that separates a man from a slave is thus: “A man chooses; a slave obeys!” (a point which he died trying to prove)
Or how about realizing that Bioshock has made you—the player—question commonly accepted video game conventions? Or how about finding humanity and compassion in the game’s most vile characters? Is that not a form of artistic beauty? I could go on and on, but I would argue wholeheartedly that Bioshock is art. I wouldn’t classify many games this way, but Bioshock is one of the rare gems that has ascended into the realm of gaming art.
As for you, Mr. Ebert, please don’t tell the rest of us what is art and what is not. Let us decide for ourselves, thank you very much! It’s fine if you don’t view games as art. But art by its very nature is subjective, and it is important that viewers of all art forms are allowed to draw their own conclusions.
