Dear Esther is beautiful and poetic. It is a mix of organic and
artificial. It is an exploration. But is it a video game? According to the Oxford English Dictionary, a video game
is, “a game played by electronically manipulating images displayed on a
television screen”. If we look at Dear
Esther, and only this definition
of a video game, than yes it is that. Urban
Dictionary (a dictionary website comparable to Wikipedia) defines a video game a bit differently.
There are pages and pages of definitions under the term, some of which are
quite similar to the Oxford English
Dictionary’s definition, and some of which are entirely unique from it. For
example, one submission reads, “A program that is more than a form of entertainment.
It offers us an escape from the dullness of reality, a place where we can do
things we actually can't. Grand Theft Auto III lets you buy whores, kill
them, and get your money back.”
This definition, and its somewhat crude example, offers a more abstract
understanding of video games. Another entry says, “Something that you do
for interactivity, not for looking at graphics. Who cares for graphics? Mario,
Pac-Man, and Sonic are great and their graphics suck! I like to play with a
video game, not a DVD player.” These
less technical and more cultural definitions of video games suggest what people
want from a game, not just what it is.
I desperately want to like Dear Esther. I’m not
very good at video games. I don’t play them enough to have the
hand-eye-coordination necessary to advance and win, so I get bored. Dear
Esther requires little, if any, skill. Really all you need to actively do
is continuously press the ‘w’ key and direct the mouse left or right. It’s too
simple though. It’s so simple that it’s mind-numbing, which takes me right
back to being bored. The graphics are beautiful, and the story is intriguing –
at first. The mystery makes you want to explore the eerie island and discover
who this Esther is, but the ‘game’ never gives you answers. It isn’t
satisfying.
Dear Esther is
more a sophisticated picture book than a video game. What it lacks and what it
does magnificently are both its downfall. The balance of artistry and activity
is off. If the ‘video game’ was more video, it would be beautiful and poetic,
but the interactivity (i.e. pressing down the ‘w’ key) is distracting from the
story. A review of the game by Allistar Pinsof breaks down the benefits of
making the narrative interactive. He writes, “For one, you can explore this world with your
own eyes. You can also explore parts that aren’t worth exploring: Pathways that
lead nowhere, caves with the same assets copy-and-pasted, and dead-ends that
will make you curse the game’s painfully snail-paced walking speed.” If the ‘video game’ were more game, it would
be an intriguing mystery to solve, but the lack of control and interaction with
the environment makes it too easy to be enthralling. The mystery of the island,
the letters, the motorway, Esther all attempt to draw you in, but there are no
rewards. You never pick up anything, you never reach a definitive clue, and you
never find any answers. You cannot sit back, listen, watch, and interpret; yet
also you cannot engage. In Pinsof’s review he says, “The problem with Dear
Esther is that it never uses its resources as interactive-fiction to good
effect…The bigger problem with Dear Esther is that it revolves entirely
around moving forward without providing any momentum, incentive, or even a
clear path (at times).”
Another
review by Keza MacDonald focuses more on what Dear Esther has to offer and examines it as an experiment. He also
offers details about the game that are unclear while playing and only learned
if you do further research. He says, “The writing is unashamedly florid, flitting all the
time in an unsettling way between past and present, and usually addressed to
the eponymous Esther, whose identity becomes clear as time goes on.” I
disagree. When does Esther’s identity become at all clear? Later on he says, “Still, it's impressive Dear Esther doesn't need
puzzles or mechanics to draw you in. The strength of the writing and the world
alone is enough.” Again, I disagree. Granted I only played the game once, but I
carefully observed and took notes during. Most likely I would discover more
details and find a bit more clarity playing the game a second time through, but
I don’t think I would find it any more interesting. Although I disagree with
MacDonald’s opinion of the game, I do think looking at it as an experiment is
useful. Dear Esther is trying to extend
the sensual stimulation of videos through the interactive nature of games. It
is both video and game and fits the traditional definition. However, when we
look more closely at a cultural definition of what society wants from video
games, it fails. Whether people want an escape from reality or an interactive
game apart from the quality of graphics, Dear
Esther’s confusing narrative and mindless interaction make it disappointing.
So yes, Dear Esther is a video game,
but it is flawed.
Works Cited
MacDonald, Keza. "Dear
Esther Review." IGN. IGN Entertainment, 13 Feb. 2012. Web. 26 Feb.
2014.
Pinchbeck, Dan. Dear
Esther. Valve, 2012. Computer software.
Pinsof, Allistair. "Review:
Dear Esther." Destructoid. Game Revolution, 13 Feb. 2012. Web. 26
Feb. 2014.
"Video Game." Oxford
English Dictionary. Oxford University Press, 2014. Web. 26 Feb. 2014.
"Video Game." Urban Dictionary. 2014.
Web. 26 Feb. 2014.
2 comments:
I'd actually like to hear more than a passing thought about the organic & artificial - a good thought, but a big one.
Your move to use the Urban dictionary is very smart, but maybe not explicit enough. Your interest in *desire* here is very good - I also find it interesting that you go first to the frankly brutal desires which drive some games. I feel like you're up to something more & different than you're making explicit here.
The rest of the essay isn't quite as interesting. You begin to articulate what *you* are looking for (that is, what you desire) from a video game, but rather than really explore that and question it (is this what distinguishes video games from literature, for instance? Is a certain kind of *desire* what separates video games from film at the end of the day?) you end up retreating a little into a more conventional reading of the two reviewers. You had set yourself up to write in a somewhat novel way about desires and expectations, and then you retreat from that. I'll also add that you end up generalizing a lot about the game, rather than engaging with specific details of it - I would have liked to see how your thoughts relate, for instance to the descent into the caves, or the dream-vision of Sanford junction, or whatever.
Short version: your intro is interesting and provocative, but you don't follow through on it, and end up generalizing too much.
Having written the same prompt, it was interesting to read your take on the entire thing. I found it very interesting how you incorporated the Urban Dictionary definition of a video game it was a unique perspective of how 'regular' people(like the people in this class and such) define games. Your intro as a whole intrigued me to continue.
I agree with your opinions surrounding the emptiness you feel after playing Dear Esther. Yes you are left with a lot unanswered questions but is it not part of the game to stitch the narratives and clues on the island yourself to create the story?
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