by Dan Grayson

In the many years that I have played video games, I have found them to be loaded with meaning. Meaning intended by the game’s designer, but also meaning made by a player through their experience of play. In video games we find a complete synthesis of creativity: the artistry of the designer in the environment, music, characters, and story; and, the creativity of the player as they interact with the world into which they have been invited.

Creativity is a process of communicating meaning, whether painting, composing, or writing. The same is true, in part, of video games. Developers often have a particular meaning to communicate to players. And like paintings, music, and books, video games do not communicate meaning until they are interacted with; the painting that sits unobserved in a dark room communicates no more meaning than the video game’s code on a drive. For example, Little Inferno is a video game in which the player continually buys possessions, but needing to burn them in order to stay warm in a city where the sun is blotted out by smoke from everyone’s chimneys. The meaning is clear: the link between capitalism and the climate crisis.

Where video games differ from other forms of art is that they require both the designer’s creativity and the player’s creativity. The invitation to step into the game world and play is like being invited into the studio and handed the painter’s brush, or the home of the author and given their pen. The art of the video game is only complete once it has been played.

In a sandbox game like Minecraft, the player can build whatever they wish, so long as they can build it out of cubes. The creative action of the player is bounded by the creative limitations of the video game’s design. When I play Minecraft, I play alone, using resources that have a story through which I can progress, growing in ability and power within the gameworld. I do not have the artistic skill necessary to create grand buildings, but I enjoy creating sets of ordered machines and technical systems, pipes and wires. Through the boundaries imposed by the video game’s designer, I find a way of offering my own creative expression. When I play with others, this is my particular gift within a community of players, contributing to a creative whole.

The significance of the player’s creativity is especially revealed in story-driven video games where the player’s choices matter. In Life is Strange: True Colors, the player interacts through their character with the inhabitants of a small town as they try to solve the murder of their brother. The choices they make in how they speak to the inhabitants, and who they help and when, determines who believes the player when they come to make the final accusation. And, in a striking moment, the player is asked to make the final choice: to forgive or condemn their brother’s killer. It is after this final decision is made that the designer’s creativity and the player’s creativity mark the completion of the video game’s artwork. Both designer and player communicate meaning in their choices. When I played True Colors, I made decisions as I believe I would in real life – influenced by my faith. When it came to the final confrontation, I reflected on whether or not I could forgive my brother’s killer. I could not come to a decision in this horrific hypothetical. And so, I took the decision I wish that I would be able to take: to forgive. Seeing the effect of forgiveness on the characters made me glad I did. Simulating forgiveness made me reflect on my own capacity to forgive, and how my faith would influence those decisions.

I have experienced video games as spaces of meaningful play, and theological play. The designer invites the player into the game world, and through creative play a series of meanings is uncovered in the player’s choices. I think this also offers a helpful parallel for the interaction between the ‘design’ of our faith and our lived experiences as ‘players’.

God’s love revealed in Christ is the motive, the material, the tool, of God’s creation. Over centuries, the Church has explored that love, and we have tried, with the limits of our language, to explain that love through our doctrines. Yet, each of us has a unique life, created by God to do, in the words of John Henry Newman, some ‘definite service’, to be a link in the chain that binds us together, and so the experiences of our own lives also matter deeply for our relationship with God. How do these two aspects of faith interact?

George Lindbeck has suggested that we can use doctrine as ‘grammar’, structuring our language for talking about the experience of faith. No blind allegiance to doctrine is required, nor does our every experience change what we believe. Rather, the two creatively interact. A parallel can be drawn with video game design. Video game design has a meaning; God’s design has a meaning. Video game rules set boundaries in which we understand the game’s meaning; doctrine sets the boundary in which we understand God’s meaning. The player’s engagement with the game brings out new and deeper understanding of the designer’s meaning; the Christian’s engagement with the life of faith similarly enables new and deeper understanding of God and the self. 

Playing video games telling particular stories – those of the ‘other’ – enable us to examine our reaction to those stories and the actions we instinctively take as we play. Why is it that we side with a certain faction? Why is it that we choose to save one person over another? Why is it that we care so much about winning one game, but don’t even play another? These experiences can be taken from the game world into our own. Does my approach to this game fit within my understanding of my faith? What could this experience teach me about my relationship to God?

For some people, video games are the main creative expression encountered in their daily lives. Playing video games with these questions in mind would be an engaging way for us to reflect on our identity and faith. We might encourage other players to consider the meaning behind the creativity of the designer and the meaning behind the creativity of their own actions. In playing video games, we find ourselves at the synthesis of designer creativity and player creativity; in living out our faith we find ourselves at the synthesis of God’s creativity and our own.

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