|
Features

Converging: An Interview With Henry Jenkins
GS: What other media do you think video games can learn
most from? Are there any film-makers, sculptors, or architects
whose concepts you think should be incorporated in game worlds?
(I realize this is an absurdly broad question, but folks often
come up with "Hell yes, I want to see a video game of Warren
Ellis' Authority, which always makes me smile...)
HJ: That's the wrong way to think about it. I'd love to see a
game world that worked like Winsor McCay's Little Nemo, like Einstein's
Dreams, like Salvador Dali, like Doctor Seuss, like Matthew Barney,
like.. We can make a laundry list of our favorite artists, many
of which might inform and inspire the right designer under the
right circumstances to create something really incredible. But
just as I don't think the best films are adapted from stage plays,
I doubt the best games will come from slavishly imitating work
from another medium. What I really want to do is see more game
designers given the creative freedom to do expressive experiments
in this medium, to take it places we never thought it could go
and make it do things we never would have imagined possible.

Little Nemo in Slumberland
What all of the examples that came to me first have in common
is that they have nothing in common. They represent radically different
ways of representing the world. Well, that's not true - they have
in common the fact that none of them represent photorealism. In
every other art, realism is an aesthetic choice. In games, it has
become a technological imperative. But I would still argue that
many of my favorite games - the work of Miyamoto comes to mind
- don't look or act like the world we live in. The brilliance of Super
Mario Brothers, and the reason it made me fall in love with
this medium, was that it represented a fully realized yet totally
idiosyncratic microworld. I loved the imagination and whimsy that
went into its design. I want to see games find their way back to
that place.
GS: Lars Svendsen's 'The Philosophy of Boredom' identifies
boredom as a peculiarly modern problem. JG Ballard meanwhile
predicts that "the future will be boring" and that
psychopathological experiments will fill the void. Could it be
that in fact video games (themselves often experiments in strange
and violent activities) will fill that void, and be a peculiarly
modern antidote to the peculiarly modern problem of boredom?
HJ: I am the wrong person to ask this question. Boredom isn't
part of my day to day experience. Exhaustion is. And unfortunately,
real exhaustion is not a problem which can be addressed through
games. When I am really exhausted, I just want to collapse on the
couch and be entertained. Exhaustion drives me to television far
more than it pushes me to games. But games can address fatigue
- which is one or two levels before you get to exhaustion. They
are a true recreational medium.
We've lost a sense of the original meaning of recreation as in
to re-create, to re-vitalize, to re-fresh. At the turn of the last
century, people were convinced that the drabness of modern life,
the repetition of the workplace was going to grind down our sensory
apparatus to the point that we would be incapable of responding
to new stimuli. Reformers advocated all kinds of crazy ideas -
like keeping fabrics of different textures in your desk drawer
to fondle during odd moments during the workday - as remedies to
this problem and our modern value on recreation grew out of this
idea that we needed to recreate ourselves and refresh our senses
from time to time.
Today, we don't keep bits of fur and silk in our desk drawers.
We simply can boot up a casual game during our break times and
go off into a fantasy world during our lunch hour. But the function
is the same. I suppose I am saying that this is not a peculiarly
contemporary problem - there's a long history of this notion of
refreshing our perceptual apparatus and today's casual games fit
into a much older discourse about how we can gain some personal
fulfillment between the demands of our
jobs.
|