There are works that change our daily life; that’s how far art can reach us. Be it a film, be it a song we love, be it a poem. Can you remember a videogame?
When was the last time that a videogame changed your life?
I remember the day I watched the last minutes of the anime Neon Genesis Evangelion. It was five or six years ago. The whole series was slowly climbing into a huge climax, but I was not prepared at all for the emotional implosion of those final moments in the End of Evangelion.
It was different from anything I've ever experienced with a show. I spent the whole week with my mind numb, with the lyrics of the fatal song that while the world was ending stuck on my mind:
“I know we can’t forget the past
you can’t forget love & pride
because of that, it’s killing me inside.”
This was a work of art that sincerely changed me. It had a philosophical aspect bound to it that never once crossed my mind. Maybe the end of the world was not necessarily something bad?
But that wasn't the only film that changed me. There was Black Swan. And the one time I saw Kubrick’s Eyes Wide Shut at the old cinema in Lisbon. And La Fête Sauvage by Frédéric Rossif. A lot of films had some kind of impact on me, be it because I saw myself related to them or because they presented me a new reality.
And before all of that, there was music. The first time I heard Enigma, the musical project of Michael Cretu, I felt something new. I thought I would never feel that again with music, but then I found Vangelis, who had a tremendous impact on me and my life.
Vangelis music is different. He was never trained or taught about music. As a child, he started playing for joy and today he still is the same child playing for joy. He improvises with special synthesizer machines made for him so that he can record and make music in real time.
His music is the real-time expression of what goes on in his soul.
Vangelis is known for his improvisation skills. But the thing he is the best at, in my opinion, is how he blends music with film. He composed the soundtrack of Blade Runner, Chariots of Fire, Conquest of Paradise, Antarctica and La Fête Sauvage, and those films wouldn’t be the same without his sound.
Then, there was poetry, a refuge that sometimes I go to when all I want is to hear some friendly words. Anne Sexton is one of my companions. Her words mark my heart. So is Sylvia Plath.
And what about Georges Mathieu’s paintings. I cannot explain why but when I look at some of those paintings I feel something magical in my eyes.
But what has any of this have to do with videogames?
This is not another “games are art” topic. I am an extremist claiming that games can be art much like music, poetry, cinema and paintings can. I am not going to approach that here, except for this very own sentence claiming that I won’t.
I believe that videogames offer experiences that none of the other art forms can offer. In fact, I think each art form has, emotionally, different experiences to offer. Only the outcome is the same: a strong lingering effect inside us.
That is what I call an influence. When we experience something that lingers inside of us.
And I’m not talking about artistic influence. Every musician has a group of other musicians whom they aspire to; Every person who dreams of making a film has some stylistic idea based on films she loved; Every indie game developer wants to make something beautiful like the other games they played: those are artistic influences.
I am talking about influence in life; In our way of quotidian thinking:
- The End of Evangelion made me realize how things could be better in a way that I would never think about;
- Enigma music made me want to embrace all cultures and languages;
- Vangelis and Georges Mathieu both taught me that you should express yourself, even without any training, because beautiful things can be created naturally when driven by our own creativity.
- Anne Sexton showed me how words can dictate strong emotions through rhythm.
And, of course, there were some games that taught me something too.
The first videogame that opened my eyes was Pokémon Sapphire. Released for Game Boy Advance in 2002, I was only 12 at the time. I used to play it with friends in the street, we each had a Game Boy of a different color.
I remember that they wanted to be the strongest and had all the best Pokémon. But for me, I was in love with the ambient and the music. The feeling of adventure, of traveling and finding out all the mysteries of those beautiful pixelated lands.
And, of course, the story. It was quite simple, a simple tale for children, but I was so immersed in it that I could feel I was part of it.
Even today, when I listen to the chiptunes I can feel what I felt then. A sense of adventure and happiness.
Back in those childhood days I’ve tried searching for other games that would make me feel good like Pokémon, but my access was very limited. I had no Internet access and all I could see were the AAA games in the store shelves.
Today we have a plethora of game creators who go far in creating beautiful things. We have artists who want to push the medium a lot farther, who want to create things and maybe change the definition of what really is a game. And we have easy access to this rich library.
One of the first examples of this that I encountered was The Graveyard by Tale of Tales; I remember that I was browsing works of net.art when I found them.
This game offers you a short experience in which you are an elderly woman visiting a graveyard. This is a beautiful concept that could very well be also represented by a short film. But by being a game, by offering an interactive narrative, the experience is certainly different.
Games are not movies, games are not Evangelion, games are not Sylvia Plath nor Vangelis. But they can be just as powerful.
The last game that changed my life was The Talos Principle by Croteam. The gameplay is simple. You solve puzzles. But the gameplay is not the point.
You’re lost in a beautiful world, free to do whatever you choose. There are no predefined paths, no permanent death, you’re just there. A voice speaks to you; he is your God, he gave you the opportunity to be happy in that gorgeous land. Your only rule is to not climb the tower.
Much like Pokémon, I actually felt happy by being in that land. It was like I was teleported into the world. And then someone other than God started talking to me on a computer terminal.
The computer was defying me, trying to make me analyze, contemplate and even doubt my own existence. And this was something that went far beyond my laptop screen.
You see, when you play a game where your character is shot, your character dies. But here, it wasn’t my character who was doubting his existence, it was me.
I found myself gasping for air trying to answer the questions that the terminal prompted me. And in the end, I couldn’t. I failed. And I felt what it is, being human.
That’s why it changed my life. Much like Evangelion in some ways, because it made me see things in a very different perspective that I had never seen before.
Today, when I listen to the Talos Principle OST, I can feel the nostalgia of being in that land. Like a memory of something that really happened. Saudades.
I wish to play more games that engrave memories on me. Games that change me. And I know more will come.
