Can a Computer Make You Cry?
The answer to that question is more important than we know.
Aspiration
Why do we cry? Why do we laugh, or love, or smile? What are the touchstones of our emotions?
Once upon a time, a small company called Electronic Arts used a print advertisement to ask these questions. Titled “Can a Computer Make You Cry?” — the ad took on something of a legendary status. As far back as the early 80s, the company that was to become one of preeminent manufacturers of computer based entertainment dared to ask what capabilities the embryonic medium of interactive entertainment possessed.
“We are a new association of electronic artists united by a common goal — to fulfill the enormous potential of the personal computer,” the ad proclaimed, revealing an aspiration towards something greater.
In the short term, this means transcending its present use as a facilitator of unimaginative tasks and a medium for blasting aliens. In the long term, however, we can expect a great deal more.
The question of, “can a computer make you cry?” is really a question of the worth of videogames. Either videogames can, as a narrative art form, move us in the ways that poetry, literature, and cinema are capable of, or they cannot. Some claim that stories have no place in relation to videogames. Others claim that games already do tell stories — that they already are capable of making you cry.
That the debate exists today means that the potential has not been fulfilled. We are still waiting for the medium that we were promised.
Story Matters
The importance of story to the modern videogames industry is self-evident. Big-budget games feature marketing campaigns directed by A-list Hollywood directors that aim to tell emotionally resonant stories.
According to the annual survey by the Entertainment Software Association, the single largest factor that influences the decision to purchase videogames is “story and premise.” More than word of mouth. More than the reputation of the studio.
The ESA’s 2017 iteration of the survey ranked “story and premise” just behind “quality of graphics” and “price” as the deciding factors for intent to purchase.
Videogames need story in order to sell. Why? We need context for the actions we are performing. Narrative is also, among other things, what players truly desire from a game — the chance to partake in a story in a world far, far away. And yet we still await the era when games will become a medium that has transcended blasting aliens. The stories told in videogames, by and large, are not good. The dream of the plucky upstarts at Electronic Arts remains unfulfilled.
Requiem for a Dream
If the original “Can a Computer Make You Cry” ad contained a hopeful idealism, an edenic conception of what games could be, then the present state of things is cause for alarm. Look no further than what happened only a few weeks ago, when Electronic Arts shuttered EA Visceral, a studio that was working on a large budget, single-player Star Wars game. The move was seen as part of a larger move away from single-player, story-driven games.
Read between the lines of EA VP Patrick Söderlund’s statement (emphasis my own):
“Throughout the development process, we have been testing the game concept with players, listening to the feedback about what and how they want to play, and closely tracking fundamental shifts in the marketplace… It has become clear that to deliver an experience that players will want to come back to and enjoy for a long time to come, we needed to pivot the design. We will maintain the stunning visuals, authenticity in the Star Wars universe, and focus on bringing a Star Wars story to life. Importantly, we are shifting the game to be a broader experience that allows for more variety and player agency, leaning into the capabilities of our Frostbite engine and reimagining central elements of the game to give players a Star Wars adventure of greater depth and breadth to explore.”
Single-player, story-driven games are not what the market wants — if we are to believe the words of the statement. Despite the fact that story and premise are heavy factors in player’s purchasing games. This is the world in which we are living now, a world where — despite the obvious evidence that players want good stories and want to participate in them — the companies that control the economic capital to support projects are pushing further and further towards a world where the activities players perform within games are not direct, emotionally motivated actions that occur in concert with the story, but meant merely for their “entertainment” and “engagement.”
In the words of EA CEO Andrew Wilson:
“EA’s games today are live services — amazing experiences that we update and evolve to deliver ongoing fun that keeps players engaged, connects them to friends, brings them more content and grows our network.”
An interesting — tragic — plot twist in the story of the company that once claimed to be “a new association of electronic artists united by a common goal — to fulfill the enormous potential of the personal computer,” and to push the medium forward “towards a language of dreams.”
Paradise Gained
The cost of the potential unclaimed by videogames extends beyond the art form and into culture. Certainly, we have never faced a world in worse shape or in greater need of the lyrical, mystical, the magical. We behold the awful spectacle of a culture that seems mired in utter corruption, while our civilization hovers at the edge of utter destruction.
More than ever, we need new stories. Throughout annals of history, it is the function of story and myth to remind us of what truly matters. The myths concerning the Buddha contain the message of doing no harm to life. The Bhagavad Gita is comprised of battlefield discussions that lead to the ultimate thesis that love is the true center of humanity. The right stories can shock an apathetic culture and rouse human conscience to action. A palsied body can be injected with much-needed vitality.
Games could be, and must be, the next great storytelling medium that carries the timeless values of humanity to a new generation. The fate of our race over the next century will be determined by the type of culture we create, and the stories that we tell ourselves. We have to recover the original vision of this nascent medium before it is too late.
Who will carry the torch?
New Noise
How can we expect anyone to listen,
If we using the same old voice.
We need New Noise. — The Refused, “New Noise”
The challenges that the world faces today require new means of solving them. Cherry pick a statistic and it will tell you all that you need to know. For example, the mortality rate due to suicide has eclipsed the mortality rate generated by warfare. Worldwide. Let that sink in — if the stories we were telling and consuming were the right kind, would that madness be possible, or even conceivable?
The stories we need today must be the types of stories that translate pain into purpose; that give meaning to our struggle; that give us courage to do what is right, no matter the cost; that enable us to reconstruct what is shattered; that see beyond the myopic vision of the ego and gain true empathy with the other; that convey an idea of a world that thrives, rather than simply survives.
The newness of these themes must be matched by the potency of how the story is told. The good news is that a computer can already make you cry. We’re not crawling in the dark: two of the best selling single-player games of the last 5 years, Telltale’s Walking Dead and Naughty Dog’s Last of Us, are gorgeous examples of emotional interactive storytelling. They employ radically different strategies to achieves their storytelling aims — Walking Dead is a dialog driven adventure game and Last of Us is predominantly an action-adventure title — yet both of them were able to ultimately deliver strong narrative experiences that captivated large swaths of players.
We simply need more like them. If the most successful videogames were not about “blasting aliens,” but were about something… the powerful bonds of humanity, the strength of love, the repair of our broken world… what would the world look like?
If a computer can make you cry — and it can — then it can move you. And if you can be moved, then you can change, and if you can change, then a human being can change, and if a human being can change, then multiple human beings can change, and if many of us can change… then our families, our communities, our cities, our states, our nations… can all change. And if they can change, then the world can change.
