Recap: Chris Melissinos at NYU Game Center

The term "enthusiast" gets thrown around a bit when talking about people who write, discuss, and make videos about video games. Chris Melissinos does not work in the gaming press, but he may be the truest form of video game enthusiast that I've encountered. The man, a guest curator for the Smithsonian Institution's The Art of Video Games exhibition, loves games, and the excitement and optimism he has for the medium is palpable. A couple weeks back, Melissinos gave a lecture at NYU Game Center on the rise of video games as a cultural power and a postmortem on the Smithsonian show. Full video of the talk and Q/A is embedded below.

Chris covered a lot of territory, but one aspect he returned to a few times was games as a part of youth culture. He recounted his own first experiences with games and the magic of programming, even from an early age. He referred to the generation of kids that brought video game consoles into the home environment in the 70s and early 80s as "bit babies." According to Melissinos, bit babes were largely misunderstood by older generations that didn't play video games and were mystified by this emerging medium that had seemingly hypnotized young people. The situation has changed now that bit babies have grown up and many have children of their own. Melissinos admitted he and his family play games almost every day, and is elated to see his kids discover facets of games that resonate strongly with them.

In Melissinos' section about The Art of Video Games, he again touched upon the powerful impression that games leave on youth. He observed the ways that families navigated in the exhibition. Children often lead the way at the beginning, powered by the excitement of seeing games that they recognize and may even own on display in a museum. Remember, these are kids that are more or less growing up without physical arcades to frequent, so having a real space for video games is a kind of novelty in itself. Eventually families would reach the room with the historic timeline of game consoles, and here the parents are reminded of the games they used to play. They point out titles on decades-old systems and explain them to their kids. The parents may not have played Pitfall! or Missile Command in over 20 years, but the photographic recollection of how mechanics work and tales about their social interactions with games often came to the surface.

Many of the video games that I remember from my youth (a child of the NES) may not have been aspiring to be viewed as artworks, they were just fun to play. Melissinos noted that while social betterment and self-reflection are worthwhile pursuits for games, we shouldn't discount those games that simply set out to provide joy for the player. He goes on that when a game is able to make you smile, or pleased with what you have accomplished, that sometimes that's enough. Makes me wonder what I'd think of games like Bubble Bobble or Marble Madness if they debuted in 2013.

Chris Melissinos' The Art of Video Games exhibition is currently on view at Seattle's EMP Museum. To read my thoughts on the show, check out my review from last March.



:top image by Dave Edstrom: 

Interaction Design: The Fine Print of MoMA's Video Game Acquisition

There was a lot of fuss a couple weeks ago when the Museum of Modern Art (MoMA) in New York City announced they would add games to their collection. The video game community was pumped to see another instance of cultural recognition for their beloved medium. The announcement, penned by Senior Architecture and Design Curator Paola Antonelli, was also viewed as another step forward for the acceptance of video games as a proper art form, with visions of Tetris seated next to Les Demoiselles d'Avignon. Amidst this excitement, a crucial detail of the announcement was largely being overlooked. Video games are not being added to MoMA's permanent collection as artworks, but as design objects, specifically for their "interaction design." Mario and Picasso might not be roommates after all.

From a typical gamer's perspective, the inclusion of video games in MoMA says enough to satisfy on its own, but from an art world perspective, the distinction between art and design is a contentious rift, and labeling a new category of works as one or the other matters a great deal. Reading into the politics of a precedent-setting institution making such a decision about video games, one wonders how the balance of traditionalist push-back and compromise played out to ultimately label games as "design," or if that was the idea all along. Language used for these categorical purposes is always carefully curated, aiming to please as many demographics as possible. With these video game acquisitions, MoMA is looking for the common ground where gamers and art patrons overlap.

The Smithsonian walked the same line last year with The Art of Video Games at the American Art Museum. The main feature of that exhibition was a showcase of console hardware and software, representing 4 distinct game genres across time. The Art of Video Games acted as a display of historical artifacts with explanatory statements justifying each game's inclusion in the exhibition. The blunt title of the show alluded to art, but without directly stating that games are art. In fact, usually when the phrase "the art of" is employed, it's to discuss craftsmanship, a quality that could be attributed to proficiency in most labor requiring a degree of delicacy. The MoMA announcement presented the same mixed message brought forth in The Art of Video Games –a prestigious art institution is willing to use "art" and "video games" in the same breath to draw attention from the game community, but stops short of an actual art exhibition of video games.

It's true that MoMA begins their announcement with the blunt statement that video games are art, but the rest of the blog post runs counter, leaning heavily on explanation of the design criteria and technicalities of acquisition. For an art museum like MoMA to simply state that games are art seeks a kinship with the gaming public. It's saying "we all know games are art so let's just move on now." Yet, the issue of whether video games are art is as heated as ever, turning up just about everywhere that a forum for discussing games exists. The avoidance of the debate about whether games can be considered art is reinforced by breaking them down into architectural design elements. These components could be used as the basis for artistic interpretation, but here they are presented as bullet points for the means to a solution, solutions being a core tenant of great design.

The argument for games as art comes down to interactivity being the distinctive factor that both separates it from other expressive media while also showing the conceptual depth and artistry present in great painting and sculpture. MoMA understands this, but chooses to frame video game interactivity as design, not art, categorizing it in the same realm as furniture, tools, and advertisements. This framing actually suits games quite easily, seeing as game development teams, if job titles are to be believed, are led by designers, not artists. "Game Design" is a field in which one can earn a college degree, and the Lead Artist on a game development team is primarily concerned with aesthetics, not interactivity, though the two are inextricably related. MoMA is merely using the predominant language that already exists for discussing games –one of design.

In many ways, design is the great unifier of video games where even the word "game" itself has become a misnomer at times. A lot of interactive things are termed "games" that behave in wildly different ways than one would typically understand a game to function. If chess and baseball are used as barometers for what constitutes a game, then the episodic exploration and choice-driven conversations of Kentucky Route Zero seem to put it in another category, closer to visual novels, but still uniquely interactive. The term "game" has evolved beyond chess and baseball to include the likes of text adventures and World of Warcraft, but conversely rendering it less useful as a classification. All successful video games display outstanding design though, and that's both a much easier pill to swallow and a convenient safeguard in the event that a great taxonomical dispersion in the future that renders "video game" obsolete.

MoMA's decision to acquire specific video games as examples of superb "interaction design" is less a bold statement claiming video games to be works of art and more a logical next step for a cultural institution looking to expand patronage and continue relevance. That said, final judgements about whether MoMA's initial video game venture shifts the balance in the "games as art" dialogue should be withheld until Applied Design, the exhibition featuring their initial 14 acquired games, opens in March.

Behold! The Art of Video Games

This past weekend the Smithsonian American Art Museum (SAAM) opened The Art of Video Games: a history-spanning account of the life of the medium.  It's a big coming out party for games-as-art champions who get to see the games they love stand in the limelight on a national stage.  The show was put together with great care and respect by guest curator Chris Melissinos, but perhaps the most significant thing about The Art of Video Games is that it exists at all.

The title of the exhibition is so purely descriptive it seems like it should be the subtitle to something written in leetspeak.  I imagine the reasons for such a bland header are multifold.  There's a wide audience of museum goers who know nothing about games and the straightforward title lets them know what they're in for.  It plays it safe, which could be used as a descriptor of the entire show.  It isn't surprising that SAAM would want to avoid controversy, especially in the wake of the hot water their housemate, the National Portrait Gallery, found themselves in with their Hide/Seek exhibition.  Also, the Smithsonian can be a stuffy place, and The Art of Video Games is a sign of goodwill on the part of games advocates who are willing to keep the crazy in the box in exchange for a solid dose of recognition.

3-channel video showing gamers' faces as they play

The exhibition consists of three rooms: a "visual art of games" display, a hands-on arcade space, and an archival console timeline.  Aside from the hilarious video footage of gamers' faces as they play, the initial room seems geared towards showing the visual appeal and traditional craft of game aesthetics.  Concept art and storyboards are installed salon-style, and a 5-channel display shows the graphical leaps in video games hardware over the past few decades.  I imagine the first room gives non-gamers something to latch onto that's a bit more familiar for an art museum.

Moving forward, visitors enter a wide open space with a handful of large projected games to play, each contained within a giant half-cylinder "arcade cabinet."  The whole room is aglow in purple, blue, and black stenciled lights, offering an aesthetic that's very roller rink/lazer tag arena.  During the opening weekend there were lines for the multi-generationally recognizable Pac-Man and Super Mario Bros.  People were playing Myst and The Secret of Monkey Island too, but the nature of those adventure titles made them more suitable for a less crowded setting.  Along with Flower, these are the only playable games in the exhibition.

A giant playable version of the original Pac-Man

The third space, the console timeline, seems like the centerpiece of the show.  In this room, again bathed in purple, vertical structures display video game consoles individually behind glass and pair them with four games each.  The games are divided evenly into Action, Target, Adventure, and Tactics categories, offering a better glance at genre evolutions than necessarily the best or most important games on a particular system.  Each tower has a button per game that plays a video with voiceover describing why the game is of significance and additional contextual details.  Unfortunately, some of the game selections feel like an unnecessary stretch to prove their worth.  The video for TRON: Maze-Atron even admits that the game wasn't very good, yet, here it is.  It may have been a noble effort to democratize the selection process, but it's difficult to see that as a plus given some of the resulting picks; I'm looking at you Worms Armageddon.

It's frustrating to see an exhibition of video games both spread itself too thin and miss essential pieces at the same time, but The Art of Video Games does just that.  Everyone could have their list of impossible-to-satisfy omissions, but I find it hard to stand behind the absence of all fighting games and, by extension, arcades.  On the other end of the spectrum, the broad survey of games is rooted in understanding chronological history more than communicating a clear argument for why we should view games as artworks.  Perhaps "games are art" is the inherent assumption, given the context of the exhibition in an art museum, but I was hoping for a little more intellectual rumination on the subject.

Video game history on display in chronological order

I love video games, but I realize this show is only partially meant for me.  I don't go into an art exhibition expecting to adore every piece, but I do need to find resonance in the core conceits of the artists and curators who bring everything together.  This is a sentiment that The Art of Video Games ultimately achieves.   Melissinos has painted a history of games that may not be a mirror reflection of actual events, but it is a narrative that makes sense, and is actually digestible.  The show is a foot in the door for the medium that will hopefully lead to increasingly daring efforts in the future.

The opening of The Art of Video Games was supplemented by talks and panel discussions as part of Gamefest, covered here previously.

Recap: Gamefest Day 2

Opening this weekend at the Smithsonian American Art Museum (SAAM) is the Art of Video Games exhibition, curated by Chris Melissinos.  I'll be taking a deeper look at the show itself soon, but in the meantime, SAAM has been putting on a series of events they're calling Gamefest that lasts all weekend.  For Saturday this consisted of a couple lectures, live music and games, and a film screening (The King of Kong).  I'll focus on the two auditorium discussions of the day.

A Conversation with Hideo Kojima

I wasn't able to physically attend this talk since tickets were claimed in advance and the line that showed up for standby was pretty huge.  Luckily it's available to view online, which is the version I'll just briefly touch on.

I don't think "conversation" was really the correct term to describe the Kojima event, since it was really just the Japanese developer answering Melissinos' questions through a translator for an hour.  It's difficult to overcome language barriers in these kinds of situations, and as such, it's best to go into a talk like this with metered expectations.   Still, it's cool to see Hideo Kojima in person.  I love his games and his sense of style.

Topics ranged from original inspirations, to qualities of great game designers, to the difference between games and films.  There was nothing super surprising, especially for audience members who've been following Kojima and/or Metal Gear for a long time.  He wouldn't reveal anything about his next projects except to say that he's working on "something," and that the player will be more in control of the narrative pacing in contrast to the Metal Gear Solid series.  

There was no mention of Transfarring.

It’s All in the Design with Robin Hunicke

Indie studio thatgamecompany has been enjoying quite a bit of limelight at the Art of Video Games.  Producer Robin Hunicke is a producer who worked on their latest title, Journey.  Before that she was with EA for Sims 2, My Sims, and Boom Blox.  She spoke about what she sees as the core mechanics of game design, and how those points apply to people lives outside of games.

Hunicke broke her design goals down into 4 categories: Exploration, Expression, Experimentation, and Experience.  She related these to various points in her game development career, making sure to note how not only are these goals for what a game should play like, but also how the development process should operate.  She sees great leadership coming from someone who acts as a "force multiplier."  This would be an individual who knows how to ask the right questions of their team, and trusts them to answer those questions by doing great work.  The leader can't be an overlord.  She recognized Steven Spielberg, the create force behind Boom Blox, as an individual who is a master of this force multiplier technique.

Knowing that her 4 design goals make for a satisfying work environment, it makes sense that creating content that performs extraordinarily in those categories would make for rewarding game experiences.  They aren't just game experiences though, since game experiences are increasingly part of our life experiences.  It makes sense to make the two more successfully intertwine, meaning individuals can aspire to better meet those design goals n both virtual and real-world fronts.

Development on Journey was also discussed in the context of the 4 design goals.  Hunicke explained that the team had at one point built a variety of puzzles that required the two people playing the game to work together; think ladder lowering, dual switch pressing, and the like.  This was found to be incredibly stifling to the openness of the design concept and was ultimately scrapped.  It felt too much like you're completing a test instead of actually playing around in the world.  Those 4 design goals are really 4 different factors of play that, once combined, can make for an immersive experience.

Recap: Gamefest Day 1

Opening this weekend at the Smithsonian American Art Museum (SAAM) is the Art of Video Games exhibition, curated by Chris Melissinos.  I'll be taking a deeper look at the show itself soon, but in the meantime, SAAM has been putting on a series of events they're calling Gamefest that lasts all weekend.  For Friday this consisted of a couple panel discussions, a lecture, and a film screening (TRON).  I was able to attend all of the talky-talk events.

The Evolution of Video Games: Pioneers
Panelists (left to right): Chris Melissinos, Mike Mika, Keith Robinson, Rand Miller, and Don Daglow

First up to bat was a series of industry vets who weren't above swapping a few war stories, but offer plenty of first-hand knowledge from the dawn of the medium.  Honestly though, the pre-crash era of games is the one I'm least familiar with, so I was happy to hear about the processing power equivalents of walking 13 miles to school in the snow.  I had no idea that games were being programmed prior to the notion of the live monitor interface.  They printed out on paper!  That might have been the most stirring factoid I heard all day.

Much discussion was framed around the forward evolutions in console generations, and how new sets of constraints are introduced in each cycle.  Daglow made the association that when a new piece of hardware was introduced, it was as if someone turned off the lights in your living room, rearranged all the furniture, and left you to feel around for familiar textures.  All of the panelists echoed the notion that design constraints imposed by limited hardware may have presented significant challenges, but ultimately they were a boon to focusing creativity and keeping their minds from running totally wild.

Mika parleyed these sentiments into discussing the challenges of true emulation and homage, specifically citing his work on faux NES title Dark Void Zero.  I couldn't help but think about certain rock bands who only play with vintage gear to achieve specific classic sounds.  Others mentioned how the lack of modern paddle controls makes it very difficult for new players to understand what made a game like Warlords so much fun.

The discussion was moderated by exhibition curator Chris Melissinos who retained a positively giddy tone throughout.  He was eager to share entertaining, personal stories from his own life in between panelist prompts.  The tone of the conversations were mostly feel-good, without the usual disdain for nostalgia that accompanies art criticism.  This wasn't really the venue for that anyway.  The Pioneers group shed light on some intriguing moments in history and successfully drew parallels between the industry issues of 40 years ago and those of today.

The Evolution of Video Games: The Future
Panelists (left to right): Chris Melissinos, Mark DeLoura, Paul Barnett, Ken Levine, and Kellee Santiago

While the Pioneers panel focused on how we got to the present, the Future panel was filled with speculation about where we go next and attempts to define where in fact we currently are.  As a result there was actually some debate among the group.

Discussion sparked when Barnett suggested the idea of individualized "golden ages" for gamers.  The basic idea is that there's a range of years in your life when you are most absorbed in playing games, and most susceptible to that saturation having a significant role in your development as a person.  I don't know if that's true across the board, but definitively within certain genres and franchises.  Is there really a need to play any version of Mario Kart other than the one you originally fell in love with?  Maybe, but I doubt you'll like it as much.  Santiago argued that the increased diversity in the gaming community has led plenty of individuals to discover and understand games in more varied stages of life.

Diversity was actually a point of commonality among the panel; diversity among developer personnel, styles of games, funding models, audiences, and more.  One question from the audience spoke ill of "pretentious indie games" which Santiago later jokingly admitted to producing.  After a string of don't-like-it-don't-play-it responses, Levine smartly piped up and reassured the audience member that developers pull from a wide variety of games and other media for inspiration, and that it's likely that "hardcore game" (my quotation marks, not Levine's) developers will play something like Dear Esther and incorporate and translate some of those ideas into their future titles.  On the subject of borrowing ideas from other people's work, Barnett chimed in with a Monty Python quote for inspiration that went something like "All of my best ideas are bad ideas that someone misheard and made a good idea from."

Likewise with the notions of teamwork, sharing, and open communication being key elements of a successful development studio being touted, only DeLoura sidled with the remark that there's something significant and worthwhile to the singular vision of an artist, seen through from beginning to end.  As an artist, I was personally glad someone on the panel expressed that sentiment.  I'm all for teamwork, but for certain projects there are people who need to control everything in service of a perspective that only they can offer.  DeLoura offered Jonathan Blow's Braid as an example.

I thought we might be treated to more talk about the hot-off-the-presses Journey or the looming Bioshock Infinite, but a lot of the concepts being touched on were more "big picture" items.  This was for the best since it kept the discussions driven in directions that all of the panelists could contribute their expertise to.  I left the panel feeling like I'd actually seen some genuine intellectual discussion happen, which is what I was hoping for.  I've watched video of Levine speaking at GDC about the potential for narrative in games and read Santiago's writing about thatgamecompany's aspirations, so I went in with high hopes, which were mostly fulfilled.

Nolan Bushnell: Video Games in Retrospect

Having never seen Bushnell speak in person before, I only had the title of his lecture to draw from.  Would this be an encyclopedic history lesson?  An intimate trip down memory lane?  Turns out it was a little of both with generous helpings of kookiness and comic relief, and a general sense of wide-eyed amazement at what new generations of game makers are creating based on frameworks he helped invent.

Much like the Pioneers panel, there were some look-how-big-computers-were stuff, but I was most interested in Bushnell the businessman since he came off as particularly shrewd.  He pointed out that his company, Atari, had developed Pong, but that game had been ripped off by so many other companies that the majority of Pong machines weren't actually sold by Atari.  They counteracted this by faking the labels on the boards that they manufactured so that when competitors would look at them for copies, they'd end up putting things in the wrong places, and the boards wouldn't work at all.  They supposedly drove most all of their non-conglomerate copycats out of business with this strategy.

That's the other thing about Bushnell: he likes legendary stories, and he's certainly billed as one.  Are some of these stories myths?  We have to take his word for it I suppose, since at least the results of his endeavors are on record as facts.  I hadn't questioned anything until he mentioned the ET cartridge debacle and rumor of a desert burial repository for the unwanted titles.  I always had fun telling that story to non-gamer friends, but I don't know that I really believed it was anything but a tall tale.  On the other hand, Bushnell freely admits they had to sell Atari-Japan to Namco due to defying numerous rules and regulations out of ignorance of the country's bylaws, so why not just hop on for the ride if he's willing to go that far.

The talk wrapped up with a "ref" from Twin Galaxies and high-score king Billy Mitchell trotting out a giant video game trading card of Bushnell as an honorary award.  There was a chumminess between them and a heartfelt recognition that having an exhibition of video games in a national art museum is a truly significant step for the form.  They seemed to relish it so much that they burned right through Q/A time, which meant it dragged a bit, but in the context of this symbolic achievement, I understand wanting to hold onto that moment as long as possible.