We declare war on the wastage of time.
We declare war on the game studios indulging the idea that more, is more.
We are repulsed by the production of mindless content undermining the intelligence of players.
We declare war on side quests and collectibles. On level-caps and unachievable achievements.
Our time, as players, is not a simple commodity to be squandered and spoiled.
We did not come here to be dragged through a mindless limbo of exp grinding, just to make you feel entitled to the 40£ you took from us, in exchange for the glorified walking simulator you call a game.
We don’t want your DLC. We don’t want your custom skins. We don’t want your sequels.
We came here to play.
We represent a new generation, grounding in respect and integrity to the player.
The games we make, contain nothing but a game.
We will tell stories. We will weep. We will tear our souls from the imprisonment of nostalgia.
Tomorrow, we begin building a new utopia in the midst of the burning ruins of soulless sequels and remakes.
We came here to play.
But now, instead, we build.
Danchev, Alex (2011) 100 artists’ Manifestos: From the Futurists to the Stuckists. Penguin Classics. London, England.
Video games have come an immense way since the birth of the industry in the 1960s. The technology used to create the original Spacewar seems to be of a completely different world from the current AAA games with their hyper-realistic graphics and immense virtual worlds. But despite the technological advancements, modern gamers still tend to stray from new games, in order to look back on a time of games past. Is this a harmless tendency? Or is it something obstructing the development of the medium?
There has been recent studies talking of how people will turn to video games in order to avoid boring routine and everyday lives (Molesworth, 2009).
Is this escapism a byproduct of people desperately attempting to escape what postmodernists describe as the spectacle?
It is not too long ago people identified themselves as gamers, fully knowing exactly what this word ment. The stereotypical gamer was a person who would spend ours on end playing games, and enjoying particularly difficult, brain-shattering challenges. (Juul, 2010) But more importantly: The gamer identity came with a community.
In resent years, however, with the rise of the app stores, smart phones, and the possibility to download and distribute games in a matter of minutes: Everyone is a gamer, from commuters to kids. So is the old “gamer” stereotype still relevant?
Prune is a game designed by Joel McDonald and published by Polyculture for Mac and Android tablets in 2015.
The game is, quite literally, about pruning treas. As you cut of branches of your newly planted tree, the remaining limbs will grow further. The ultimate goal is to reach for the sky, soak up sun, and give life to as many cherry-blossoms as possible.
Sigmund Freud came up with the idea of the uncanny in 1919. The uncanny is a specific emotion of fear we experience, when something isn’t quite as it should be. Freud especially talked about the uncanny in relation to animate objects.
In 1970, roboticist Mori warned that robots could indeed also provoke these negative feelings of unease, if they appeared too human. Based on these findings, Mori introduced the theory of the uncanny valley, depicting a drop of attraction towards the animate object, after it achieved human features. This unsettling feeling will – according to Mori – only disappear when the robot is completely indistinguishable to a human being.