The Unfulfilled Potential of Video Games

(Computer): "Program complete. You may enter when ready."

This video series primarily focuses on film
and television.

But every once in a while,
I like to check in on the world of video games.

And there's no better place to get a sense
of what's happening in gaming

than the Electronic Entertainment Expo,
or E3 for short.

Every summer, the entire video game industry
descends on the convention center in downtown

Los Angeles for an extravagant week of video
game announcements and demonstrations.

The highlight of the expo are the press
conferences, which are put on by each

of the major video game publishers, during which
they showcase all their latest and greatest titles.

Dozens of fantastically rendered, breathtaking
worlds are on display.

And yet somehow, I always walk away from
E3 with a profound sense of disappointment.

And that's because for all the talented developers,
all the hardware innovation, all the technological

advancements, and all the new games,
E3 can still feel remarkably uncreative.

Year after year, the gaming industry seems
to fall back on one underlying theme:

kill or be killed.

After a few dozen trailers that all seem to
feature essentially the same style of game play,

the whole event can turn into a blur of flying
bullets, swinging swords, and fiery explosions.

And that makes it hard not to feel a little
like Captain Picard on the holodeck.

(Picard): "What are you here to do. Ask for a refund?"
(Slade): "Nah, I'm here to kill you!"

(Picard): "Computer, freeze program.
Computer, this isn't what I wanted at all."

(Picard): "It's much too violent. I'm here to
relax, not to dodge bullets. Reconfigure."

Gaming is now a 100 billion dollar a year
industry. And that's billion with a B.

And in many ways, E3 represents the face
that industry shows to the public.

As such, the event provides an ideal setting to
analyze overarching patterns in the gaming world.

So this year, I did a quick statistical
breakdown of all the games featured at

the major E3 press conferences.

"Let's see what we've got."

A total of 133 games were shown during
these events.

Only 20 of those games didn't include
combat mechanics.

And 10 of those were sports or racing games.

A detailed breakdown looks like this:
82% combat, 3% minimal or incidental combat,

5% sports, 3% racing, 1% for dancing, with
just 7% left over for all other non-combat games.

The fact that 82% of the games featured
at E3 are combat-focused illustrates a

pretty serious lack of imagination.

To see if that ratio holds up over time, I went back
and compared these stats to the numbers from

previous E3 events, and I found similar results.

Initially, I had intended to include separate
stats for narrative games, adventure games,

puzzle games, city building games, and
exploration games.

But there just weren't enough titles in any of
these genres to justify their own category.

A couple quick notes about these numbers.

For these calculations, I focused on combat
rather than on the presence of violence.

So games in the non-combat category aren't
necessarily non-violent.

In fact, three of the ten games in that category
are rather violent survival horror experiences.

I make the distinction between combat and
violence because with combat,

the player is the one doing the violence.

Violence is unfortunately part of our
shared human history.

And so it makes sense that some games
would include it.

However, when combat is the game's central
focus, it tends to celebrate that violence

rather than frame it as a tragic last resort.

(Narrator): "One such perk will award the
player with a tactical nuke following a 25
player kill streak."

(Narrator): "This match will get red-hot.
It's on!"

Of course, not all forms of combat are equal.

So just out of curiosity, I further broke the stats down by type.

Of the 108 games focusing on combat in 2017,
20 of them could be classified as cartoon violence.

For these titles, it's less 'kill or be killed' and more
'squish or be squashed.'

The violence may be cute, sometimes downright
adorable, but the focus on combat mechanics

still sets up a hostile game environment
in which players are forced into an antagonistic

relationship with the game world.

The interactions may be a lot less bloody,
but the gameplay is still largely restricted

to some form of 'get them before they get you.'

In many ways, the gaming industry has backed
itself into this corner.

For decades, game studios have focused on
combat to such a degree that for many gamers,

developers, and even publishers, combat has
now become synonymous with game play itself.

The president of Nintendo of America echoed
this sentiment at E3 this year.

(Reggie Fils-Aime): "The game is fun.
The game is a battle."

(Reggie Fils-Aime): "If it's not fun, why
bother. If it's not a battle, where's the fun?"

That's an extremely narrow definition
of what constitutes a game and frankly,

an even narrower definition of fun.

I'd argue that this obsession with violent
combat mechanics is holding the gaming
industry back.

Let me quickly explain why I say that.

Game play mechanics are the underlying rules
and methods for engagement within a game.

Think of mechanics as a set of tools that
players are given with which to interact

with the game world, its characters, and
other players.

In many of the games we've been talking about,
combat is the only way to solve problems,

to resolve conflict, or to overcome obstacles.

That old saying that 'If all you have is a hammer,
everything looks like a nail' is apropos.

Except video games are made so that nearly
everything in your path is specifically

designed to actually BE a nail.

And if you're given a machine gun as your
primary tool for engagement, that's going

to determine how you approach the world
and practically everything in it.

(Cayde-6) This one dude is all "Rah!" so I shot
him PEW and then I shot this other one PEW.

(Cayde-6) Shot a couple extra guys just to
be safe. PEW DUSH DUSH.

(Cayde-6) I did a lot of shooting if I'm
being totally honest.

When games focus so heavily on combat
mechanics, it severely restricts the

options for both emotional interaction
and creative conflict resolution.

Don't get me wrong, conflict is, of course, an
important part of story telling.

But there are many forms of conflict,
from the interpersonal to the intergalactic.

Likewise, there are many forms of
conflict resolution.

And most of them don't leave behind a
pile of bodies.

I should mention that there do exist a small
handful of games that include diplomatic tactics.

Players can talk their way out of every
situation in the retro-indie game Undertale.

But that's a rare exception to the rule.

Some genres like role playing games
have players doing more than just fighting.

But most of the other forms of interaction
exist to support the combat.

You might talk to other characters who
will give you quests: quests which
inevitably involve killing stuff.

You might buy, sell, or craft new items:
items that will help you in killing stuff.

(Narrator): "A few days out in the wasteland,
and it's time to kick back at home. My home."

You might even be able to build a house:
a house which you'll have to defend

by killing even more stuff.

(Todd Howard): "Cuz you do want to build
defenses, uh, because your settlements can
and will get attacked, uh, by raiders."

All the other options available to players still

ultimately revolve around that core combat mechanic.

This topic is of special concern to me because
my work primarily focuses on the representations

of men and masculinity in entertainment.

Everywhere we look in pop culture, we see
models of manhood that are linked to

confrontation, aggression, and violence.

And that's especially true in video games
where male characters are rarely depicted

solving problems based on deescalation
or compassion.

(Kratos): "To be effective in combat, a
warrior must not feel for his enemy."

Things like diplomacy, deescalation,
negotiation, and compromise all take
a back seat to blunt force trauma.

And that in turn dramatically limits
the kinds of stories that can be told.

Now whenever I make these kinds of
observations on social media, someone

will inevitably respond with a snarky quip
about defeating monsters with hugs

or dancing or by serving tea and cupcakes.

They no doubt think these are devastating
burns, but actually those are pretty good

ideas for innovative mechanics.

I'd play those games. And I'm willing to bet that
a whole hell of a lot of other people would too.

Interactive media has an incredible, almost
unlimited, potential to deliver a wide range

of emotional, deeply human experiences
that deal with love and connection and empathy.

Imagine an open world game where you take
on the role of an EMT, or a firefighter,

or a field medic, or a climate activist,
or an intergalactic veterinarian.

Or how about a farmer who grows food on an
intergenerational space ship.

Or imagine a game in a post-apocalyptic future...

(because every other game I saw at E3
was set in a post-apocalyptic future)

...but instead of fighting over the scraps,
players cooperate to rebuild a better society.

Imagine all the stories we're missing out on
because game developers insist on building

virtual worlds that we experience from behind
the barrel of a gun or the blade of a sword.

Remember that 7% of non-combat
focused games?

Well, every year E3 does play host to a few
small games that break the mold and

give us a glimpse into the medium's potential.

TACOMA is one such example. You play as an
investigator using augmented reality to solve

a mystery of a missing crew aboard a space station.

It's these small innovative titles that are blazing
a path forward for interactive storytelling.

We just need a whole lot more of them.

If you'd like to see more of these long-form
video essays about the intersections of manhood,

politics, and entertainment, then please go over to
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Every little bit helps me keep making more videos.

Next month's video will be about geeky sexism
and The Big Bang Theory.