The Importance of Semantics

"Semantics" is commonly derided in our daily jargon as being nit-picky and annoying, but today I will make the case of its importance...especially in the case of the adolescent game industry. Semantics--or more simply, word choice--can have very subtle ways of affecting the reader without them even noticing (but, as a Communications major, these are effects I pick out quite regularly). Before we dive in, we should go over just why word choice can be so important at all. When discussing "video games," word choice is everything. The medium itself is very young by the standards of media overall (just look how long books, movies, TVs, etc. have been around). More significantly, its roots are not so much that of a new communication medium but rather a new genre of toys. The Atari 2600 and the Nintendo Entertainment System were not heralded as a coming of a new way to tell and experience stories, but rather as a new way to kill time and have fun--especially for kids. This is why many assume (sometimes incorrectly) that the adolescent male is by far the dominant demographic of game consumer; though historically this may have been true, it's not today, and the change is happening fast than most people realize. In fact, many gamers don't even want video games to be looked at as a storytelling tool; they are quite happy with their delightful hobby and just want to play games as games--for fun.

Zaeed doesn't like it when Cmdr. Shepard forgets to italicize Mass Effect.

As I discussed last week, the growing split in game design (and consumption) does not mean that either side is "right" and the other needs to go away. They can both very easily co-exist, but as a whole, it's time for the general public to start paying more respect to the game medium as a true storytelling medium. But for everyone else to respect games, gamers themselves must respect games. And that's where semantics come in. First and foremost, when writing about games, the title must be placed in italics. You'll notice that The Paradigm-Shifting Blog has adopted this practice long ago, and for good reason: in the English language, you are supposed to italicize the titles of full bodies of work. Like a book (duh). Also, a movie. A newspaper. A music album. A television series. A video game. As you likely noticed, a "full body of work" does not necessarily mean "a piece of media with a long story." Game titles need to be capitalized. Period. If we gamers cannot respect our craft with such a simply concept as recognizing them as someone's (or some group's) complete body of work, then why should anyone else? No more Mass Effect, Uncharted, or even Super Meat Boy. It's Mass Effect, Uncharted, and Super Meat Boy.

There was a time when the only objective was to "go right
and you win," but not anymore.

Okay, so maybe italicization is not so much "semantics" as it is a lesson in proper grammar, but the idea is the same. It's part of an overall concept of separating video games from toys. Even if the medium originated that way, it has grown into a full-fledged entertainment outlet. In the old days, the entire point of playing a game was to provide an artificial challenge for the player to overcome. There was no story progression or character development. That was it. "Beat" the game. Except we still use that word. My roommate ran down to my room last week to tell me that he "beat" Assassin's Creed: Brotherhood. What he really meant to say was that he finished it. What did he beat? What challenging algorithm did he have to outsmart? What patterns did he need to recognize and execute to perfection? Of course, some gamers still play "story" games--including Assassin's Creed--for that same sense of overcoming an explicitly designed challenge. This is why most games still provide varying levels of a "hard mode", where the point is for you to be better than the computer. You bested them. So in that sense, yes, you can still "beat" a hard mode, or if you are playing a game solely for the challenge, you can "beat" it by doing everything you've been tasked to do. But, if you are playing the game not only for the fun factor, but also to experience this incredible story (which is the reason most people have for playing games like Assassin's Creed) then you're not "beating" anything; you're finishing the story. This idea is very small and may seem unimportant, but it is part of the overall idea of separating video games from toys and grouping them in their proper place as an informational medium.

Another example of poor word choice is the prevalent use of the term "franchise." Now, publishers often use the term "franchise" quite accurately with their hopes and wishes for their game brand. Halo, for example, is very much a franchise, having games developed by different developers, a toy line, an anime series, a long-gestating film project...you get the picture. "Franchise" refers to the big-picture money-maker of the overall brand. But lets take a different angle on this. Obviously, Star Wars can easily be considered its own franchise. But within that gargantuan franchise lies the core of it all: the "series" of Star Wars movies. They exist in the same medium and tell (for all intents and purposes) the same story. They are direct sequels/prequels of each other. They have self-contained story arcs and ones that play out over whole trilogies (or two!). I bring this up because many game developers, writers, and analysts often refer to their series as a franchise when the two terms are not interchangeable. As with Halo, it definitely applies in some cases--and perhaps many of these developers truly wish for their baby to actually become a true franchise. But when referring to a specific series of games, it really devalues them from an artistic perspective tolabel them a "franchise"; doing this is like saying that this game is being made for the sole purpose of making money. Like a toy. And, frankly, like how some games in this business are made (Call of Duty says hi). Obviously, all developers hope to make money off their work. But referring to the Uncharted series as a "franchise" severely devalues the work of developer Naughty Dog in pushing the limits of game design, narratively and otherwise.

Nathan Drake's adventures are about a lot more than just filling the bank.

So, I task you with being aware of these important distinctions when you are reading, writing, or talking about games. These are far from the only examples and if I truly wanted to write about every last one of them, I could probably fill a book. But you don't need to read a book to get to the central idea behind this article. Games are not toys anymore. In many ways, video games are a lot more than the traditional definition of a "game"--perhaps the most striking semantical violation of all. I've long considered "video game" to be a somewhat antiquated term when referring to this interactive medium that I've come to love and respect so much. Right now "video game" is really the only term we've got... but it's about as relevant as describing a movie/film as a "motion picture" (after all, movies are a lot more than simply a moving image nowadays). With that thought, I'll leave you, the reader, to engage in a collective brainstorming over what we should really call the interactive medium long referred to as "video games." What's the best you've got? Post your ideas in the comments.