All great games, future and past have somehow illuminated the human condition. Games have always been popular because they can stimulate the brain to help it experience things it has trouble finding in our daily grind. They make us love, hate, laugh, cry. They make us compete, fight, push it. They make us feel strong emotions that we may not find in our daily life. Games have always been there for us, to augment our life by giving us contrast, and a frame of reference. Once I felt the mental stress and confusion of Portal the outside world became a little different. Portal illuminated me, and so I think about still.

The reason that Shell’s vision is so dystopic is the fact that these enlightening experiences will suddenly become meshed into our reality, an diluted. Without strong contrast, we are not stimulated. Our life becomes a slightly augmented emotional soup. We compete a little more, we feel a little more and every day we grow a little more jaded.

Mixing games with our life robs us of the contrast that made games fun. A great game, like a great movie makes us feel something, and through playing the game we change and grow. If every day is a video game, when do we grow? +500 Brushing Points are not growth, and after a while they stop being fun. At some point we will start look for new, different ways to get those points, and so the cycle continues.

This.

The games that have touched me – rocked me, hurt me, affected me, destroyed me – have been games that have, at their essence, been about humanity. Steeped in emotion and consequence. Games can boast cutting-edge graphics and sound and interfaces but they honestly do nothing for me unless there’s a humanitarian narrative. I’m bored by games set in an environment I may never visit, or with characters I simply cannot relate to. I also struggle with games so steeped in reality (e.g. Sims and the opening hour or so of Heavy Rain – although, several hours into the game, I understand now what that opening chapter accomplished etc.). I find it bizarre when the mundane is repackaged as something rewarding.

What turns me on – figuratively, obviously – are the games that touch my soul, in much the same way that a film or a good book can move me. And that can be achieved whether the game is indie or from a billion-dollar dev house. As a gamer, I couldn’t give a shit how or where a game was made providing it reaches in and touches my soul.

Curious thought regarding this: “It will be, as it has always been, up to the individual game design (and the designer) to ensure that the experience is meaningful in some way.”

I recall a particular writer recently asserting that he had a more meaningful relationship with his Pokemon than Character X in Action Game Y. I can’t, for the life of me, remember where I read this.

Moving forward, however, I do believe there is merit in this somewhat silly admission. Whatever connection that we have with Starter-Pokemon-X is, I believe, the most meaningful relationship we can have with any object, digital or otherwise. See, I think that games, moreso than any medium, have the opportunity to mimic the human experience in a rather lucid way. That relationship with Bulbasaur is reflective of /some/ part of our condition/existence (perhaps even phylogenetically, or not necessarily as evident in modern life), which in turn makes it easier for us to connect and prescribe a certain, meaningful value.

Of course, I’d never attribute the success of the Pokemon franchise to just the Player-to-Pokemon connection; the collection aspect of the title is what drives many players to completion. This /need/ to collect, I think, has to do with some hunter-gatherer instinct, a shadow of something that may or may not be completely antiquated. But, unfortunately, I’m talking a whole lotta crap at this point; I’m reaching the boundaries of “what I know enough of to form anything resemblant of coherent.”

My point is this, though: I think it will become evident that the titles which contain elements that resonate strongly within us (intentionally or otherwise) will be those that will perform better, critically, and will have a longer shelf life. Arbitrary points and and hollow numbers are just that: hollow. I’d like to believe that the games of the future are those that reflect something honest, something truly mimetic and not grossly caricatured; something human.

This doesn’t at all interfere (or hell, correlate, this comment is getting tangent-y) with your “Heralding the Holodeck” section. Meaningful, reflective qualities are perhaps easier found in abstract titles, but there is most certainly something /very/ human and natural when speaking of complex gestural human interface devices. Like Schell noted, technology (and, of course, media) is divergent. I think the industry can find ways to craft an expressive experience with whatever tools they utilize. There really IS room for all, like you said. And I happen to think that those that mean more, get farther.

I can really see a lot more realistic games coming out. I used to shun the Sims ’cause I thought it was TOO realistic, since one has their own life to do, but it’s hugely popular. And there’s a lot of apps on FB much like it, and I myself play World of Warcraft daily, although I do hear from a lot of people that it’s ‘cartoony’ and they don’t take it seriously. Does graphics really dictate the tone? Because those same people were power hungry for gear and to showcase their skills.

While I’m for realism, ala Heavy Rain and such, I also like the idea of art. I remember when Shadow of the Colossus came out and although it was a very lonely and goal driven game, it was beautiful in its solitude and location and was often thought of a moving piece of art.