#oneaday Day 546: Why are we still arguing over "games as art"?

Back in April of 2010, the first time around on this #oneaday malarkey, I wrote a post responding to the late Roger Ebert's ill-advised argument that "video games can never be art".

Today, on the 5th of December 2025, some 5,710 days later (or "over 15 years" if you want to be a bit more normal about it), we are, apparently, still having this argument. Roger Ebert is, of course, dead, so this time around it has come from someone else: Ian Bogost, a professor at Washington University, St. Louis and hilariously forever doomed to be "most known for the game Cow Clicker" so far as the broader Internet is concerned.

A bit of context if you've not come across this chap before: Cow Clicker was designed as a satirical take on the rise of "social games", as they were known when they first started appearing on Facebook. You know the sort of thing: wait for timer to expire, click on thing, get stuff. Pay up if you want to get stuff more quickly. Marvel at the meaninglessness of existence.

Cow Clicker was good satire! It made some solid points about the way social games abused not only their players, but the broader community surrounding those players. Anyone who lived through Facebook in the 2010s will almost certainly remember being spammed with "invitations" to "help" on someone's "farm" or similar, because although it was patently obvious to anyone who had ever played a video game before that social games were absolute dog eggs, they introduced a lot of people who had never touched video games before to the idea of playing games on their computer or mobile phone. And, as a result, they are indirectly responsible for those tedious shitheads who argue that Candy Crush Saga is relevant to modern gaming rather than yet another abusive, predatory free-to-play game.

Anyway, I hadn't seen Bogost around for a while, but I'd always thought that he had vaguely… sensible ideas. Today he came out with these humdingers — relating to, of course, HORSES, the hot topic du jour (as you will know if you have read my last two posts and my piece on the game over on MoeGamer):

(Bluesky screenshot)
‪Ian Bogost‬
‪@ibogost.com‬

I’m going to get in trouble for this, but fuck it. 

I’ve been at this a long time. Games culture wants the spoils of cultural sophistication without doing the work. It wants a guarantee that the intention to make work guarantees not just a living but a thriving one. It is a medium for children.

(Quoting the following post:)
‪Aftermath‬
‪@aftermath.site‬

Despite the controversy, Horses is only shocking if you're unfamiliar with the history movies, theater, literature, or basically any art form that does not have stats.
(Bluesky screenshot)
Ian Bogost
‪@ibogost.com‬

The interesting, sophisticated thing about games is not whether they can tell stories as well as books or movies (they can’t) or float shocking themes as well as fine art (honestly, who cares).

It’s the manipulation of systems, the play of contingency, the brokenness of machines.
(Bluesky screenshot)
Ian Bogost
‪@ibogost.com‬

Q-Up and Candy Crush, say, are more serious works of game than Horses (which seems fine and even innocuous!) or whatever embarrassing anime RPG trash is on Steam or Nintendo EShop.

There are some truly amazing bad takes in this mini-thread, but his argument appears to stem from "I am older than you, therefore my opinions are the correct ones." At least he correctly assumed that he would "get in trouble for this".

He falls into the usual traps of assuming that books and movies are inherently superior forms of media because they have been around longer and are thus more refined, but this exceedingly shallow viewpoint fails to accommodate the existence of books and movies that are unashamed to be absolute pulp fodder, trash, blockbuster nonsense or whatever other mild pejoratives you might care to fling at them. Not only that, but gaming is a medium that has grown much quicker than both books and movies, at least partly because it was able to draw on artists' experiences in developing those mediums, and adapting the things that work into the interactive space.

Now, one area where I do kind of sort of align with Bogost is where he notes that games are "the manipulation of systems, the play of contingency, the brokenness of machines". However, where I drift apart from him is his seeming assumption that that is all there is to gaming.

Games can be about the manipulation of systems, the play of contingency and the brokenness of machines. There are some truly compelling games that focus exclusively on those things — and yes, there are plenty of those that I would well and truly describe as exhibiting their own form of artistry. There is an elegance to a well-designed, well-balanced game — it keeps you playing; it keeps you invested; it plays on your mind even when you're not directly engaging with it, in much the same way as a great work of art that you, personally, found particularly impactful "stays with you" long after you were in its physical presence.

This side of things is something that I feel the more "artsy" side of game criticism — and the more artsy side of gaming enthusiasts, for that matter — could do well to study more. As someone with an appreciation for both narrative-centric and mechanics-focused games, it is inordinately frustrating to see those who prefer narrative experiences completely dismiss the artistry of mechanics-centric games. At the same time, it is also frustrating when people who are primarily appreciators of mechanics will completely discount the artistry of a good story.

You see, games aren't one or the other! They can be both, or they can be one of those things — or they can probably be neither of them if you're determined enough. But in most cases these days, there's a little of column A and a little of column B in there — and both of those aspects have been developing rapidly as the medium and technology have evolved, to such a degree that it is an astonishingly galaxy-brained take to say that "games cannot tell stories as well as books and movies" as a blanket statement.

HORSES is an interesting one because it's not a very "good" video game in terms of its mechanical aspect, and there are arguments to be made that its narrative aspects aren't anything particularly out of the ordinary either. I enjoyed my time with it well enough — I found it compelling enough to play through in a single sitting — but I also found myself wondering if anyone would remember it a year from now, particularly if the whole situation with it being "banned" from various platforms hadn't happened. There are plenty of artsy-fartsy walking simulators out there, and some have done their job better than others; it's actually a surprisingly challenging genre of game to get "right", and opinions vary wildly on exactly what getting it "right" really means.

But that's art! Art provokes discussion and debate. It sometimes makes people feel uncomfortable. It sometimes carries deep meaning for people. It resonates with some people more than others, and for different reasons even among those who all found it "meaningful" to a similar degree.

I'm truly astonished that we're still in a situation where games are having to justify their existence as an incredibly creative, artistic medium in 2025. Yes, there's garbage out there — although let's not even get into the casual racism of Bogost's "embarrassing anime RPG trash" statement right now, which is another matter entirely — but there are garbage books, movies and paintings out there, too. To put "established" forms of media on some sort of unassailable pedestal purely because they've been around longer and because the Big Scary Professor At Washington U Says So is just absurd. Because if video games as a medium are not "established" by this point… exactly when is the cutoff point for them to be taken the slightest bit seriously?

There are certain people out there who seem weirdly desperate for video games to forever be regarded as toys for little children — particularly little boys. We are long past that. And I would expect someone like Bogost to know better by this point.


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#oneaday, Day 90: Ebert in the Lions' Den

Art is the process or product of deliberately arranging elements in a way to affect the senses or emotions. It encompasses a diverse range of human activities, creations, and modes of expression.

Wikipedia

Roger Ebert gently and gracefully lowered his gazelle-scented testicles into the lions' den that is the world of video games a couple of days ago. It's pretty fair to say that he got a reaction. But was it the one he was after?

His contention was that "Video games can never be art". A strong opening hypothesis. One which has been debated amongst gamers many a time too, with little agreement on the subject. Some feel that yes, games can be art, others feel that no, games can not be art – yet. There are very few people I know who are interested in the world of games – whether or not they think there is currently any evidence of artistic creativity in the medium right now – who would stand up and proudly announce that their chosen form of entertainment will never be art. As Ebert points out in his own article, Rick Wakeman once reminded us that "never is a long, long time".

So how is Ebert, a respected film critic, so sure on this subject? Well, of course, he's played some games to back this up, right?

Given the substance of the article, I'm not entirely convinced. He certainly talks about a few games – specifically Waco Resurrection (which I'd never heard of), Braid and Flower. I can't comment on Waco, having never heard of this game until today, but Braid and Flower are both games that I have played and enjoyed, and I take exception to the manner in which Ebert responds to them – or doesn't, as the case may be.

When discussing Braid, he mentions the game's unique selling point – the time rewind mechanic. He even cites the justification for it – the thematic concept of "what if you could go back and fix your own mistakes?" He then spectacularly misses the point by comparing it to cheating in chess… or rather, "negating the discipline" of chess. I agree that taking back moves in chess is counter-productive in developing your own skills, but Braid is a game that is designed around that whole concept. Rather than being a sore loser's way out, the time rewind mechanic in Braid is a key part of the experience. More to the point, it's not used purely as a way of avoiding death, as he seems to believe. Instead, use of time and your past self is key to solving the puzzles in Braid, making apt and clever use of the main theme of the story in a practical sense.

It's his comments on Flower that got me, though. It's immediately apparent that he hasn't even played the game at all from this:

We come to Example 3, "Flower".  A run-down city apartment has a single flower on the sill, which leads the player into a natural landscape. The game is "about trying to find a balance between elements of urban and the natural." Nothing she shows from this game seemed of more than decorative interest on the level of a greeting card. Is the game scored? She doesn't say. Do you win if you're the first to find the balance between the urban and the natural? Can you control the flower? Does the game know what the ideal balance is?

"Can you control the flower?" Seriously? I would have thought that a respected critic would bother to actually experience the things he is commenting on before judging them. Flower is one of the most unique experiences there is on a games console – love it or hate it – and it eschews most traditional game mechanics in favour of being a piece of experiential entertainment. The experience you have playing Flower is entirely what you make of it. If you want to play it as a "game" and try to beat the levels as quickly as possible, you can. But most people who have spent any time floating on the wind and listening to that game's gorgeous soundtrack will agree that there is definitely a sense of narrative to the whole thing. But unlike most games, this sense of narrative is entirely personal to the person playing it. I played it feeling enormously melancholy, feeling an inexplicable sense that someone or something had died. Nothing on the screen suggested that, but that's what I felt while playing, to an almost overwhelming degree. Others have taken the rather more simplistic – but just as valid – interpretation that "flowers hate steel".

The problem with Ebert's comments is that they smack of condescension and arrogance. Ebert is a respected expert in his own field – justifiably so, I might add – and he clearly knows it. Therefore he seems to feel that this gives him the right to judge something which he very obviously knows very little about and has very little interest in pursuing further thanks to his own preconceptions.

Are games art? I don't have an answer for you, but Justin McElroy's excellent response to Ebert's piece raises a very good point – the medium of "games" has evolved so much in such a short space of time that to call the diverse experiences we have with our computers and consoles today simply "games" is a complete misnomer. We interact with these pieces of electronic entertainment for a variety of reasons. Sometimes it's escapist fantasy. Sometimes it's role-playing. Sometimes it's wish-fulfilment. Sometimes it's a social activity. Sometimes it's competition. Sometimes it's to feel an emotional response.

There are as many reasons to "play" as there are "games", so to damn the entire medium with a blanket statement – "games will never be art" – is misguided and short-sighted. They may not be art now in the eyes of some people, but that is not to say that they will not be in the future. If you take Wiki's rather broad definition of "art", listed at the top of this post, games (or whatever you want to call them) are already there.

I will leave you with two tweets from Cody "NintendoTheory" Winn, whom I think sums up the problem with debating this whole question pretty succinctly in the space of 280 characters: