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The Primacy of the Imagination During my conversations with gamers old and young, I found (with younger gamers in particular) that the primary factor in attracting many of them to a game was its premise; the experience alluded to by its characters, themes and imagery. Here a player chooses a game because it allows him to experience a particular fantasy, of being a racing driver, adventurer or soldier. This fact seems to be well known to the copy writers of game advertising and packaging, who in most cases, tend to emphasise the themes, characters and plotlines in a game rather than its constructional description, although many games for hard-core, initiated audiences will focus on describing the game in terms of its genre history, as displaying more polygons than Quake III or having better volumetric lighting for example. This emphasis on the internal history of the video game can be a disadvantage, I feel, as it shuts out the uninitiated and promotes the limiting ideal of a game as a mere collection of algorithmic special effects, which as I hope to prove, is not the case. This concept of the primacy of an underlying fantasy is given more weight if we read old games magazines from the early to mid eighties and look at how games were described when today's constructional and genre-based terminology was still in formation. Apart from the quaint clumsiness of such early terms as the "platform-and-ladders" game, there seemed to be much more of an emphasis on the themes, tasks and characters, in some cases evoking scenes of such unparalleled adventure that a young reader would be hard pushed to discern a game's genre were it not for the accompanying screenshots, and would probably be greatly disappointed when he actually got to play the game. This shows that the development of constructional and genre terminology has been valuable, not least in giving players a shorthand way of knowing what to expect from a game. But it also demonstrates that a gamer lacking the concepts with which to enclose his experience will respond to a game with a much greater portion of his imagination. The underlying fantasies that a player has about a game may be of a general theme, such as the desire to win a race, be a soldier or rescue a princess, or they may be more complex and specific. Gamers may desire to experience a particular interplay between certain types of character, such as between a man and his evil relative, as with Zidane and Kuja in Final Fantasy IX. They may want to explore the interplay between two opposing concepts, such as the fight between democracy and tyranny in a strategy game, or the balance of good and evil in Black and White. Or commonly, to experience a particular character in a particular situation, such as the popular theme of the lone warrior in a post-apocalyptic world. Some gamers will often think primarily in terms of theme, choosing games that reflect a particular imaginative concern irrespective of genre. Younger gamers often see game characters and situations as imaginatively real, and see far more in a game object than the older, jaded eye. For example, one of the older Zelda games has an enemy which splits itself up into blocks, which fly around the screen and reform. The experienced player knows that it is a collection of blocky sprites, and in playing will regard the situation as a matter of timing his attacks, avoiding the blocks and finding a safe position. In other words he will see the situation as a system, paying only a little attention to the enemy as a character. But one young gamer described this enemy to me, in excited terms as a sand monster who turned himself into a sandstorm to attack the player. It seemed that he focused more on the monster as a character, seeing it as a being to be contended with rather than as a system to be negotiated. In older, more knowledgeable gamers too we can see the primacy of an underlying fantasy. More than one gamer has admitted to me that he plays Civilization because he likes the idea of ruling a nation, waging war and taking over the world. One gamer of my acquaintance told me how he enjoys playing Civilization in a certain way, to create a situation where there are two main world powers in the game, himself and an opponent, both with advanced levels of technology. He would then plan a massive campaign against his enemy, creating an all-or-nothing war to end all wars. So in many games, a fantasy might "kick in" when their playing pieces become arranged in a certain way, creating a situation or process of interest to the gamer. With developers we could say that one of the reasons why they often rehash the same old game ideas is not because they can't think of anything better, but because they want to create an ever more perfect representation of a particular fantasy or experience. The imaginative realm has often been a prime force in games design. The renowned designer of the Mario and Zelda games, Shigeru Miyamoto, has admitted that he draws inspiration from childhood memories of exploring the caves and forests of the countryside around his home (Poole, 2000). Games are deeply linked with other forms of imaginative play with game characters and themes influencing play away from the computer. In older gamers we can see this in the number of websites devoted to popular game characters such as Sephiroth from Final Fantasy VII and the popularity of game related action figures, animated movies, comics and models. There is also the interesting fact that some players enjoy dressing up as their favourite video game character. According to writer Steven Poole, the Tokyo Game Show has a best costume contest for visitors who turn up in game related garb (Poole, 2000). Evidence enough to convince us that games can evoke a strong emotional and imaginative response and be a great influence on the inner life of a player. Another related quality (and this is a purely personal reflection) is what I call "emotional resonance", the indefinable emotional impact that can be felt upon seeing a certain image, character or person; that unusual feeling of an image being "more real than real". This aspect of experience has fascinated me from an early age, especially the way that no matter how much you analyse the image in question, no matter how much you research its background or its semiotic relations, you get no closer to pinning down the meaning of its resonance. Many video game images have this quality, along with those in movies and other forms of art, as well as the natural world. Not all gamers report these kinds of experiences. Some stick unreservedly to a constructional view of games, some ignore character and storyline and concentrate instead on the kinetic experience of playing or the cognitive manipulation of game objects and puzzles. Most gamers, it seems, sway between two different modes of playing, The first is an extroverted mode, where the players emphasis is focused more on the kinetic experience of playing and winning than on storyline or character, and on social gaming where the emphasis is more on the group doing the playing than the game itself. The second is the introverted mode of playing, where the game acts as a catalyst or facilitator for the gamers own feelings or imagination. Here the player imagines himself into the game. It is important to point out that these are just rough working categories, and describe modes of playing, not types of player. An individual might move from one mode to another depending on the game and situation. Another reason why some people might not report or acknowledge these experiences is because of our society. We live in a society which is profoundly extroverted, where inner experiences are often regarded as pathological aberrations, or waved away as being "only psychological". In schools, introversion is regarded as a problem to be fixed rather than a natural tendency; no teacher has ever suggested that a boisterous, extroverted child should spend more time in quiet reflection, except perhaps as a punishment. The games world itself is not immune to such closed mindedness. I remember in the early nineties, reading a magazine review of that groundbreaking RPG , Eye of the Beholder. The reviewer spent the entire first page of his review denouncing role-playing fans, who in his eyes were a bunch of asocial misfits. He then went on to declare the game an all-time classic. This kind of prejudice, as well as reflecting a simple lack of empathic understanding, has its roots in a wider social trend. It is fashionable in our culture to cultivate emotional distance and cynical detachment, to not let slip that we are moved, certainly not by an ephemeral, commercial medium such as the video game. Another factor is our attitude towards fantasy itself. The epic and magical worlds adored by western gamefreaks and eastern otaku are often derided as vessels of mere escapism. It is no wonder that these experiences remain in the shadows of both the mainstream games industry and of society as a whole. Conclusion

Contents   Introduction   Widening the Language of Convention   The Primacy of the Imagination   Conclusion   Printable version   Discuss this article The Series   The Primacy of the Imagination   Approaching the Imagination   The Game as Quest   Integrating the Imagination