James and I, in our impromptu walk on Sunday, spent time talking about this game, which I was rhapsodizing about. And in that talk, he brought up "The Game Room," an arcade where his friend used to work at during high school. I haven't thought about it forever, and it's apparently been deceased for a long time. Which, given the current state of video games, doesn't surprise me. The quality of console (xbox 360, Playstation 3, the new Wii) and computer-based games is so good that these shops are totally antiquated. There was a place down the street that tried to do an arcade with desktops, but it failed quickly.BioShock, a game released this year for the new Xbox 360, is probably the clearest example of why the Game Room's of the world are gone. The 360 gives performance and graphics which are just stunning, not photo-real (yet), but getting close. Which would be neither here nor there if the game was not so sophisticated--beautiful and empty is no unfamiliar phenomenon in this photoshoped and CG'ed world--basing itself on classic dystopian novels, and sending up the Libertarian philosophy of Ayn Rand and her wacky crown (a whole different post, believe me...).
The story has your character (it's in the genre of the "first person shooter," with some elements of "adventure games") in a plane crash in the middle of some icy ocean, landing right next to a dark, moonlit tower poking up from the frigid waters. That's the entry to Andrew Ryan's utopian Libertarian experiment, a world where "petty morality" can be transcended by the artists, scientists, industrialists. Of course it goes really, really wrong: the genetic modifications have turned the denizens either into corpses or zombified "splicers" (i.e., genetic splicing into the persons DNA code), who wander around attacking each other and you. (By the way, my favorite line from these splicers--as they do their murderous perambulations, they spout different comments--is "Don't you fucking judge me!") The place is leaking icy water all over the place. There's lots of decay and fires, blood everywhere, but with the artifacts of the functioning city, like the 1950's style perky advertisements and loudspeaker announcements that tell the history of the city's decline into fascism and civil war. You go through the huge city (that's the images in this post), from level to level, accomplishing various tasks towards learning the history of this sick place.
Now, NOTHING like this existed even 10 years ago, in terms of the technical and storytelling sophistication. But in terms of brain modification, it's pretty much the same experience after a point as playing Pacman back at the Game Room.
As fun as these games can be, and as clever and immersive as they are, much of their appeal is that they are diversions, and that they induct the brain into a fugue state. These are not, usually, the choice of the integrationist. And they are usually built to encourage a forward-leaning progress of half-satisfactions, leading onward to the longed-for finale, an addictive process of pulling you out of the present, as you lean into the future, anticipating the Big One.
That's the way they've always been, if they fit into the rubric of "video game." Back to pong, through the arcade games to the early text-based adventure games, then into these modern technical masterpieces (like BioShock).
Which is not to slam them, really. I like my coffee, and try to limit it to one cup in the morning, knowing that if there are more, I'll be an anxious mess the rest of the day. Same with games, you have to know how to use them in moderation, and not do them to excess or for the wrong reasons. Which are all easy to do--as I said, they're built for addiction.
That said, BioShock really is a masterpiece of the genre. And it points up the amazing cultural phenomenon of these games, the intense use of resources (apparently, even before marketing, the modern console games cost $15 million to make, and BioShock I'll bet too more than that), and the incredible profits (2K, which produced BioShock, will net about $1.4 billion next year with the release of the new Grand Theft Auto IV). I've seen a few film sets and it's always awesome and appalling how much it takes to produce even the worst movie.
BioShock's most amazing aspect is its set design, the exquisite art deco environments and flourishes (my favorite is the redwood trees individually encased in glass at the bottom of the sea), and it must have taken a butt-load of money to stable a group of artists that talented. This is the sort of place you can just wander around gape-jawed, regardless of the story or combat.
Now, NOTHING like this existed even 10 years ago, in terms of the technical and storytelling sophistication. But in terms of brain modification, it's pretty much the same experience after a point as playing Pacman back at the Game Room.
As fun as these games can be, and as clever and immersive as they are, much of their appeal is that they are diversions, and that they induct the brain into a fugue state. These are not, usually, the choice of the integrationist. And they are usually built to encourage a forward-leaning progress of half-satisfactions, leading onward to the longed-for finale, an addictive process of pulling you out of the present, as you lean into the future, anticipating the Big One.
That's the way they've always been, if they fit into the rubric of "video game." Back to pong, through the arcade games to the early text-based adventure games, then into these modern technical masterpieces (like BioShock).
Which is not to slam them, really. I like my coffee, and try to limit it to one cup in the morning, knowing that if there are more, I'll be an anxious mess the rest of the day. Same with games, you have to know how to use them in moderation, and not do them to excess or for the wrong reasons. Which are all easy to do--as I said, they're built for addiction.
That said, BioShock really is a masterpiece of the genre. And it points up the amazing cultural phenomenon of these games, the intense use of resources (apparently, even before marketing, the modern console games cost $15 million to make, and BioShock I'll bet too more than that), and the incredible profits (2K, which produced BioShock, will net about $1.4 billion next year with the release of the new Grand Theft Auto IV). I've seen a few film sets and it's always awesome and appalling how much it takes to produce even the worst movie.
BioShock's most amazing aspect is its set design, the exquisite art deco environments and flourishes (my favorite is the redwood trees individually encased in glass at the bottom of the sea), and it must have taken a butt-load of money to stable a group of artists that talented. This is the sort of place you can just wander around gape-jawed, regardless of the story or combat.
So, my history with these games continues, more complex and sophisticated than when I was ten and whacking a white dot back and forth on a TV screen, but with the same ambivalence and awe, joyfulness and dread.
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