On BioShock Infinite and Roger Ebert (and Art)

A man once said something contentious. That man is dead. Is there meaning in it?

Roger Ebert after losing his jaw but not his spirit.

This week, famed movie critic, Roger Ebert died. Subsequently, some people took time out of their days to reiterate their vitriol towards the man. The man once claimed that video games are not art and could never become art, so some awful people saw fit to trounce upon his death as if his cancer was related. I feel the hate was unnecessary for reasons beyond the idea of taking delight in a man's death.

Reveling in someone's death or saying that person deserved it is vile. When I learned of Roger Ebert's comments on video games, I said, "He can go fuck himself," which is a common feeling one can have when someone criticizes something he finds important but is not available for debate. But I did not wish him cancer or to lose his lower jaw. Can you imagine how horrific it would be to have any of that happen, to know you were bound to die or be disfigured? If you think that is tantamount to hearing that a well-known movie critic thinks video games aren't art, well, you should reevaluate your life up to this point. (You may leave.)

Ebert had no direct effect on my life. When I was younger, and Siskel was alive, I would occasionally try to catch their show on FOX whenever the station randomly decided to air it. It was a fun show and a justification for staying up late like I did then. I didn't await their reviews, and I never consulted critics before going to watch a movie. Fast forward to present day, and my only interaction with him in the last few years was clicking on links to a few of his essays, which were all intelligent and well-written. He was a smart, cultured man, and I had every reason to believe he was good-natured, as well. Although I'm not bummed about his death, I'm not elated about it either. Everyone deserves better.

Much to my surprise, his death started to draw links to the recent AAA blockbuster, BioShock Infinite, in that some believe it is the realization of video games as art. It even brought the notorious Cliffy B to the fold:

Something eerie about the timing of the loss of Roger Ebert and the release of a true game as art in Bioshock Infinite.
— Cliff Bleszinski (@therealcliffyb) April 4, 2013

While, compared to some others, I found absolutely nothing offensive about this tweet, I was surprised that people thought this was the game that was going to win over someone who derided video games so long ago. To this I say, "Who are you kidding?" Although Ebert was a noted consumer of culture, video games were not among them. He certainly was not going to spend his last days valuing his life sinking hours into a violent video game or any video game for that matter as if all of a sudden, the industry finally created the holy grail. I'm happy to contend that there were plenty of good and better examples before it, all easily dismissed by such a critic.

I recently finished BioShock Infinite, and like many others, I was blown away by the ending. It made me feel a lot of emotions all at once, and my body's reaction was to send a few tears to my eyes. It was not the same feeling as the special moment in To the Moon, but it was an intense moment. BioShock Infinite features some really impressive writing and direction, but it also features a significant amount of gameplay that makes consuming these triumphs intimidating to a lot of people, including gamers.

I can see why some don't see the art I see in this image.

The fact is that first-person shooters can be tough to get into and tough to play from there. You may not agree; you may be the biggest FPS fan in history. Despite the number of FPS or FPS-like games I've reviewed here, I am not a fan of them in particular. For me, it's about wanting to check out a great story regardless of gameplay mechanics or wanting to check out why everyone loves a game even if it doesn't seem to be my style. The original BioShock was the first FPS that sparked an intense desire within me to overcome my reservations about the genre in order to experience what the game offered, and to this day, I do not regret wanting to play that game as badly as I did.

For other people, it's just not worth it. I suck at some types of games, and I most notably suck at first-person shooters if there is no stealth involved. Well, I suck at shooters in general – don't let me mislead you. But just because I'm willing to trudge through the threat of sucking doesn't mean everyone is. And there are also a lot of people who don't play video games because they (think they) suck at them, regardless of genre. Alongside those people are some who don't believe it's worth the time when they enjoy so many other cultural offerings available; they don't even evaluate their skills at video games because video games are a non-entity to them.

The skills required to progress through a game represent a barrier of entry for that particular art form. When it comes to the video-games-as-art discussion, I am not sure many people consider breaking down the video games into what they think is the art versus what they consider to be the game. The fact is that the game might be worthless or threatening to those who don't play. This, in turn, makes the art easy to be dismissed, and I don't blame them. It doesn't apply to every game, of course. Some games feature gameplay that is very much tied to its artistic expression, such as Journey or The Unfinished Swan, where divorcing the two is hard to comprehend.

Journey, where everything is beautiful, but is it art?

Before I write further on that subject, I do want to explain that I consider many video games to be art. I think art is based on emotional response. "Do I emotionally respond to what I am experiencing?" If the answer to that question is "yes," then I am willing to entertain its consideration as art. Maybe that is too broad, but I am not the judge, and there isn't any real jury. I just find it hard to believe that people can play a game, one with either a great story or a great experience, and feel joy, fear, heartbreak, or otherwise and not consider it art. Like Ebert, though, I'd agree that some games contain art but may not be pieces of art in their entirety. I think that's a fair assessment and one that is fair to debate.

On the other hand, I don't think that people who deride video games as something other than art consider the barrier of entry involved in other forms of art. Movies, music, and books are easier to consume, yes – there is nothing other than technical malfunction that can really prevent you from navigating them from beginning to end – but some of the most appreciated or most debated of these actually do require more than watching, listening, or reading to fully appreciate beyond a superficial level. I've had the experience where I've enjoyed a movie but spoke to a person who started talking about themes or metaphors that I completely missed. The end result is usually a modicum of disappointment from the other. We clearly did not enjoy the same art. It's possible I did not see art where others did.

A good recent example from pop culture would be Psy's dance hit, "Gangnam Style." People went nuts for the song. (I was not among them, but I think the song is fun and well-produced.) DJs everywhere started playing it at clubs and parties, and it's reached a saturation point where you will involuntarily hear it several times a week. It's even been incorporated into Dance Central 3, so those gamers can dance to it and score points doing so. But how many people listening to and enjoying the song are aware of its existence as political and social satire? From conversations I've had with people, the answer is not many. The clear reason why is that you'd need to speak Korean, have an understanding of South Korean culture and economy, and know that Psy has a history of being politically vociferous.

In The Path, you have to go to Grandmother's house down the road, but the forest is calling to you, too.

Although "Gangnam Style" is appreciable as musical art, it has a barrier of entry to be understood as art with commentary and crticism. Compared to a video game, the barrier of entry is less apparent, almost hidden. I'd compare it to Tale of Tales' The Path, where it is easy to complete the game six times in under thirty minutes by just walking in a straight line from start to end, but the core of the game actually requires the player to step off the titular path before trying to return to it. In other words, it's impossible to appreciate what the game has to offer or what the developers wanted to express without doing the extra work required to do so. Admittedly, unlike a song, The Path is not very enjoyable if you take the easy route, but one can consume and opine about it that way, and the artist is left to feel like that person is doing it wrong.

It is these barriers of entry that actually separate art appreciators, where the "snobs" come from, so to speak, though it's not fair to pass judgement on those who devote their time to understanding an artistic medium fully. With respect to video games, the barriers prevent gamers from playing what I would consider pieces of art, and other barriers, such as historical knowledge, prevent gamers from understanding what the art is trying to tell them beyond what they are experiencing. I reluctantly bring up the fact that a handful of people who played BioShock Infinite thought Wounded Knee references were bro shoutouts to Skyrim's "arrow to the knee" meme instead of a serious, horrific moment in American history. (By the way, it's OK to pause a game to Google a reference if it'll help you appreciate it more.) The truth is that many people will finish BioShock Infinite without being able to wrap their heads around the ending, or they might love the first-person shooter gameplay and think the story is trash altogether. Who am I to judge them? Nobody, even though I lament it.

This brings me back to Roger Ebert and his opinions. That's all they were. To their credit, he wrote them thoughtfully and carefully, which is more than I can say for many who wished him death, threatened him in life, or resorted to homophobic slurs to drive their indignation home. Regardless, Ebert was just a man albeit a famous one. He did not and does not have the ability to determine what is art for you or what you should think is art. If you feel passionately that he is wrong, then video games are art. It's really as simple as that, and many people will disagree with me. That is also OK.

Instead of hating the man, we should thank him for bring us closer than ever before to the medium we love – video games.