WARNING: This article definitely contains spoilers to the game Catherine, though they are concentrated to the second and third sections.
I. Games as Art
I have no plans on veiling my position on the great "games as art" debate: video games, as far as I am concerned, are just as capable of being art as any other medium. This, for me, is fact. And, as such, the quality of the creations in the medium are up for critique. I do not feel the Grand Theft Auto series is on the same artistic level as Shadow of the Colossus, just as I do not feel Scary Movie 2 is on par with The Godfather. Games, like films, have a number of attributes that can be analyzed when critiquing them: everything from the artwork, design, mechanics and writing. The main question that arises is not "is this game art?" but rather "is this art good?"
Now, the purpose of this entry is not to define what art is as that would require a lengthy and rather pointless regurgitation of opinions and critical essays. Rather, I want to explore the debate through an example, in this case Atlus' 2011 puzzle-platformer Catherine.
II. O Catherine! My Katherine!
Catherine is a game particularly worthy of analysis simply due to presenting a complex and challenging narrative in a mainstream presentation, available across all the major consoles (a substantial point to the game's credit, as it's rare to see such heavy psychological material/narrative beyond indie publishers). It tells the story of Vincent Brooks, a man in his early thirties who stands on the brink of his carefree stagnant youth and the responsibilities of true adulthood. His dilemma presents itself in two different women: Katherine, his long term girlfriend who desires commitment and stability and the mysterious Catherine, who is much younger and sexually provocative. Vincent commits adultery in a series of encounters with Catherine that blur the line between waking and dreaming, reality and fantasy.
I am immensely pleased to live in the era of gaming where I can play a title that deals with as murky and troubling a topic as an affair. Besides addressing material that is complicated and all too real, Catherine (as all good horror should) contains an element of zeitgeist, the "spirit of the times". Gamers, specifically the main gaming demographic of young men between 18 and 35, have recently come under fire from numerous publications. Some of these "expert" opinions make the claim that men are stunting their growth, essentially living extended childhoods and reveling in immaturity.The inflammatory nature of such articles is upsetting, to say the least, and has resulted in an intense amount of anger from the gaming community. Catherine takes this concept and embodies the man-child archetype in the character of Vincent, turning the crisis into a choice for the player: do you have Vincent abandon his long-term love for the freedom of a fling or do you have him try and return to being faithful in order to attain a stable life? It is the player's responsibility to have Vincent leave his state of limbo and progress (whether towards temptation or commitment).
Catherine's game-play compliments its narrative by being primarily puzzle based. The player navigates a series of blocks, attempting to race to the top as a horrible creature chases Vincent. All the monsters are physical manifestations of Vincent's fears: marriage, his own libido, becoming a father and so on. All dwarf him in size, exaggerating his perceived weakness and demonstrating how vast he views these problems to be.
These sections of game-play occur only when Vincent dreams, each level a nightmare. The choice by the developers to have the game-play be solely puzzle based is highly poignant and reflective of the game's conscious artistic decisions: Vincent feels completely helpless as he's torn between the two women. If the game had given him power by instead having combat mechanics, the atmosphere would be lost.
Clearly, Catherine is full of intriguing ideas but we return to our question of "is this art good?" My answer: mostly. At its heart, the game is well thought out and provocative. However, the tense story-line crumbles towards the conclusion.The point of this entry is not a review of Catherine though, so I will instead focus on how the game grants the player agency.
III. Choice
By far one of the most unique elements gaming brings to art is its inherent interactivity. In many current games players are given the power to make choices that can ultimately impact the course of the game. Catherine is no exception, however the current expectations from video games do create issues regarding its artistic vision.
(Okay for reals, serious spoilers below. Essentially the endings to the game revealed)
Depending on whether the player chose Katherine over Catherine, as well as game-play scores, several outcomes can be attained. Now, varying by degrees, these endings culminate to 3 "best" conclusions:
1) Vincent chooses Katherine, they reconcile and wed.
2) Vincent chooses Catherine, he descends with her into Hell and is surrounded by demon ladies. (Catherine, you see, is a succubus)
3) Vincent rejects both women, instead choosing to pursue his childhood dreams.
All of the other mediums that gaming now joins (film, artwork, music, literature, etc) have never really had this element of choice. To a point, art is defined by the sheer fact it has an "artist" (whether this is a director or author or a development team). An artist arguably has a vision that they wish to impart through their creations. Point is, it's theirs, not the reader or viewer's, and part of the experience is having the vision delivered to you. Games are a highly different medium in this regard, instead having player agency (even if it is in a highly controlled environment).
So, in a game such as Catherine, what is the final vision? It's clearly a morality tale but there are good bad endings. If the player performs well in the game, regardless of their personal decisions, they are technically rewarded. The game's vision, although written by the developers, still adjusts to the player experience. Here, convolution occurs. In narrative driven art the piece is examined as a whole: the ending to The Great Gatsby is crucial to its beginning, as is the beginning of 2001: A Space Odyssey to its end. With the player able to receive a different ending based on choice and performance, does the multiple endings approach hold real meaning to a game's vision? Does the idea of a "canon" ending diminish a game's overall narrative?
While sticky, I do not think this in any way limits videogames as an art form. Rather, it just complicates and deepens how art is understood. Catherine is a truly unique game that I hope paves the way for more mature and complicated subject matter in the medium. Its addressing of psychological fears is only bested by Silent Hill 2 (a personal favorite I'll be writing about in the near future). I highly recommend it despite its flaws, if only to see how something like adultery can be executed not only in narrative but game-play mechanics.
