Games as Rhetoric: The Interplay of Media and Discourse
Exploring one avenue by which videogames can enrich players in exchange for their attention, creating a healthier transaction.
The cost-benefit analysis of videogames is a complicated subject. On the one hand, they consume and covet attention in a way that few other products could dream of, making them extremely addictive. On the other hand, they contain immense rhetorical potential (amongst other utilities), especially when they move away from a gamic focus. The following will explore examples of when the medium has leaned into this potential and become more than just entertainment.
The True Story of Bloodborne
Bloodborne (2015) depicts a Victorian-era city elevated with all the grandiose architecture of the FromSoftware house style, and artistic choices which make the city feel that bit more claustrophobic and unsettling. The areas are filled with disease, beasts and Invisible horrors, all setting an oppressive, hostile tone. It is a depiction of a nightmare.
The game has been circling my mind since I played it around a year ago. I could feel that there was something in its connective tissue, which transcended the mere aesthetic, and I believe I have now been vindicated in this belief:
There is an excellent YouTube series called ‘An Agony of Effort: The True Story of Bloodborne’ by Charred Thermos (Alias). He reveals, through no shortage of evidence, that Bloodborne is based on the medical practices of the 1700s and 1800s, integrating heavily the works and life of a real patient of The Royal Infirmary of Edinburgh, William Ernest Henley. And further, that it takes inspiration from Robert Louis Stevenson who, amongst other works, wrote the story of Jekyll and Hyde. Thermos’ hypothesis, which is backed up throughout all of the videos in the series is that:
“Bloodborne is meant to depict the nightmarish experience of Victorian-era illness and disease and the dehumanizing nature of medical research, surgery and addiction.”
It is because of this accompanying material and the precision by which the game interrogates its themes, that I felt compelled to engage with the real histories. The videos demonstrate that many of Bloodborne's characters are conduits for real people or ideas. This adds a level of intrigue to what might otherwise be a reel of dry facts and biographical information. Simply, Bloodborne imbues actual history with a more visceral weightiness. It also averts the risk of becoming too distasteful, as might occur if it were to visualize explicit depictions of surgery. The result is that important history is brought into the purview of a wider demographic.
Another example of how entertainment can contribute to discourse is in the film Apocalypse Now (1979). It is another piece of media which is not only fantastic in its own right, but encourages a subsequent analysis of its critiques of the Vietnam war and human nature, as well as a reading of the materials which inspired it. These, it honours in the following frame:
The curiosity I now have for reading ‘The Golden Bough’ (1890), in particular, is greater than it would have otherwise been if I simply decided to investigate anthropology for its own sake; there is now a contextual grounding and sense of familiarity. Similarly, Bloodborne encouraged me to explore the stories of Howard Phillips Lovecraft, which I have found to be both engaging fictional works and interesting prompts for philosophy:
Vibes versus Statements
Bioshock (2007) is a game which tackles the work of Ayn Rand and tends to argue against her philosophical prescriptions; the story is set in an underwater city which operates by Rand’s principles of objectivism and, by the time the player arrives, the place has become a ruin. There are debates on whether Ken Levine successfully captured Rand’s actual philosophy, and I am not yet well-read enough on the subject to comment, but the premise still stands: Bioshock is now a part of the discourse of the Randian worldview, even if only as a cursory overview of the broad themes.
Bloodborne, as described in the previous section, provides a rather cynical view of the medical practices of the Victorian age. One of Bloodborne’s primary questions appears to be whether the mass dissection of dead bodies, for knowledge, was worth the price paid. The game’s visuals are enough to make the horrors of the situation clear, yet its thesis is more explicitly surmised in the following in-game line:
“A corpse should be left well alone.”
- Lady Maria (Bloodborne)
The game encourages the audience to ask whether the knowledge that one can derive from a corpse is worth paying for with the potentially immoral aspects of the process, and the most certainly immoral acts that it incentivised - selling corpses became a lucrative business in the realm of surgical study (including in Universities), which lead to a cycle of body snatching, kidnappings and murders. Whatever conclusion we arrive at on the overall morality of such a practice forces us to reflect on modern scientific practices and consider whether our predecessors will look back in abhorrence. Bloodborne is thus elevated to a critique of both history and a caution for the modern day, making itself relevant in a broader dialogue.
In contrast to these more effective examples of rhetoric is What Remains of Edith Finch [WROEF] (2019). It is a poignant story about a girl who revisits her family home, to discover the secrets of a family who all seem cursed to pass away in tragedies. It is popular from a purely aesthetic standpoint, but its somewhat disjointed structure and lack of specificity has lead many to conclude that there is simply no real message. It is therefore a story which is felt, yet retroactively diminished in the analytical stage. There is also no clear context in which the story can be discussed. One might suppose that WROEF would be useful in the discourse of the philosophy of mortality, yet its seemingly contradictive narrative blurs the lines. I personally left the story not knowing whether one should try to make peace with death or enter a constant struggle against it, for neither approach seems to bode well for the family.
What differentiates Bloodborne and Bioshock as videogames is that they are not merely inspired by their influences, but form part of a discourse; something akin to secondary sources. They are practically thesis in their own rights and form a marked divergence from large swathes of games which are more interested in immediate fun and “vibes”.
The Interplay of Media and Study
Making a dynamic of media and discourse is where video games can begin to thrive as genuine tools of interrogation. If there is one thing that games seem uniquely adept in creating, it is familiarity. People often elude to, or state, a feeling of nostalgia and homeliness in games after a certain amount of playtime. This is especially peculiar, because it can be extended even to horror games, such as those in the Resident Evil and Silent Hill franchises. What if we were to transmute this sense of familiarity which is gained in the play space into adjacent, yet far more useful subjects? In theory this could offset the high price of time and attention, already spent on a game, with an enhanced learning experience. This interplay would also solve another problem, which requires a brief preface:
My good friend
and I had a podcast episode together, in which we suggested that media consumption should be seen as a type of diet. One cannot consume only a single thing (neither videogames, nor books, nor films, nor articles) and expect to feel good. Instead, the combining of different ingredients is what cultivates health. One is better to relish the experience a videogame provides, and subsequently integrate their insights into a broader context, rather than to replay the same game or jump to another one. This is far easier when the videogame is not seen as an escape from studying and real world tasks, but in service of them, although it is, of course, a dangerous line to tread. The successful integration of this practice is where I intuit to be an optimal positioning of videogames. Just as one reads William Shakespeare’s works and later analyses the themes in order to deduce important insights about human nature, we might do the same with videogames, infusing them with genuine purpose. I would be raising none of these points of utility if videogames were consumed at healthy rates across populations. Unfortunately, the opposite is true.Making Healthier Videogames
Between my personal philosophy and the research undergone in my other works so far, I have reached the conclusion that videogames cannot exist first and foremost as entertainment, without severe consequences for large swathes of the population. As I see it, there are two viable and actionable approaches going forward. Either, games are somehow made to consume less attention (which I primarily see resolved by easily accessed time-limit settings), or that they meet the fair exchange rate, giving the player something which is proportionately valuable with their attention.
By taking videogames more seriously as forms of rhetoric and engaging with their real life history and academia, we can encourage the development of higher quality products. Effectively we would be stipulating the parameters of a health code which ensures that videogames are not intentionally or unintentionally violating our wellbeing. This may scream “red tape,” but my suggestion is one of conscientious consumer decisions, rather than regulated bureaucracy. The world values health far less than it ought to, and videogames are not exempt from that discourse. Their impact (when played too long) spans the whole spectrum of harm, from mental health, to the physical decline of the associated lack of exercise, yet the onus is almost always placed on the individual to resolve these issues. As with everything, a balance must be restored and the encouragement of game developers to produce thesis-based, and/or historically grounded works appears to be a good avenue for change.
While I've not picked up a videogame in years, I had a fantastic time with Bioshock when I played it. The level of detail and care that went into building a world and story in a cohesive narrative was fully on display, and I loved every second of it. If videogames are what it takes to bring more of those ideas and questions about philosophy and morality to people who otherwise wouldn't read or watch films, then I'm here for it.