Welcome
Posted by Jarrod Penfold on Saturday, August 22, 2009
Greetings and so forth.
Do you often buy a game without looking at the blurb on the box? Or a book without reading the outline on the cover? Or an unseen DVD without paying heed to the story on the case?
Well, maybe you've taken the gamble on the occasional DVD - sometimes a great list of cast or an amazingly grabbing picture may make you think it's worth the punt. And to be honest, they do say that a picture is worth a thousand words.
But words themselves are great, powerful, artistic magicks.
They can draw you into a world, painted in the most expressive and vibrant arena to date - your imagination!
Whether you overhear some juicy gossip from overly inquisitive neighbours, or come across a coded message of a certain Technological Terror (which is no mere moon), you can't help but want to know more of the story.
Games have become big, serious business. They are big players in the entertainment field, tackling proverbial media giants like a hammer-wielding, muscle bound, action poised, Norse god. So why should the stories in games be any less entertaining?
In terms of immersion, computer games require very active participation when compared to print and television. Mind you, I've definitely heard friends yell and attempt to interact with the television, especially when a big sport game is on. But they can no further influence the action on the screen than the supposed hurricane inducing butterfly wing-beat could effect the stars.
So, given that our players have the ability to become fully immersed and interactive, like with no other media, should we not treat them as special? Should they not have a meaningful relationship with the electronic people on the other side of the screen? Should they not be treated like royalty?
Of course - the player is king or queen when they play. Whole universes are at their feet, and they can command powers almost beyond human comprehension. Intriguing realms await, evil-doers are there to be thwarted, and young lasses are yearning to be rescued.
How can we further polish a game so that it not merely gleams, but is honed by stone, kevlar, waves, fire, breezes, and sunlight itself, to finally hue sub-atomic particles with its sharpness?
With grand and sweeping histories; with exquisitely detailed and described assets; with provocative and sinuous dialogue; with characters who have motivations, desires, and fears - layers upon layers of articulated narrative.
Then a game can grow even beyond itself and take on a culture of its own. It can gather a community, intrigue and appeal until it expands further, maybe to books, maybe even on to movies, to truly become an inspirational phenomenon unto itself!
Doesn't that sound wonderful? I'll see you there.
Do you often buy a game without looking at the blurb on the box? Or a book without reading the outline on the cover? Or an unseen DVD without paying heed to the story on the case?
Well, maybe you've taken the gamble on the occasional DVD - sometimes a great list of cast or an amazingly grabbing picture may make you think it's worth the punt. And to be honest, they do say that a picture is worth a thousand words.
But words themselves are great, powerful, artistic magicks.
They can draw you into a world, painted in the most expressive and vibrant arena to date - your imagination!
Whether you overhear some juicy gossip from overly inquisitive neighbours, or come across a coded message of a certain Technological Terror (which is no mere moon), you can't help but want to know more of the story.
Games have become big, serious business. They are big players in the entertainment field, tackling proverbial media giants like a hammer-wielding, muscle bound, action poised, Norse god. So why should the stories in games be any less entertaining?
In terms of immersion, computer games require very active participation when compared to print and television. Mind you, I've definitely heard friends yell and attempt to interact with the television, especially when a big sport game is on. But they can no further influence the action on the screen than the supposed hurricane inducing butterfly wing-beat could effect the stars.
So, given that our players have the ability to become fully immersed and interactive, like with no other media, should we not treat them as special? Should they not have a meaningful relationship with the electronic people on the other side of the screen? Should they not be treated like royalty?
Of course - the player is king or queen when they play. Whole universes are at their feet, and they can command powers almost beyond human comprehension. Intriguing realms await, evil-doers are there to be thwarted, and young lasses are yearning to be rescued.
How can we further polish a game so that it not merely gleams, but is honed by stone, kevlar, waves, fire, breezes, and sunlight itself, to finally hue sub-atomic particles with its sharpness?
With grand and sweeping histories; with exquisitely detailed and described assets; with provocative and sinuous dialogue; with characters who have motivations, desires, and fears - layers upon layers of articulated narrative.
Then a game can grow even beyond itself and take on a culture of its own. It can gather a community, intrigue and appeal until it expands further, maybe to books, maybe even on to movies, to truly become an inspirational phenomenon unto itself!
Doesn't that sound wonderful? I'll see you there.