Learning from the culinary arts

As I mentioned in my last post, my wife and I took a trip to the Napa Valley – wine country – almost a month ago for my birthday. While we had some absolutely amazing food, I neglected to participate in any wine tastings at the local cellars. The biggest reason was probably the fact that I had little to no knowledge about wines at all. I wasn’t a huge wine aficionado. I didn’t know what to look for in a good wine. I didn’t know anything about the process of wine tasting. So I did what any respectable geek would do – I looked it up on the internet.

In doing so, I’ve since discovered a lot about the meticulous process of tasting wine – how one is supposed to examine all elements of the wine: its appearance, its viscosity, its aroma, its flavors, its texture, its acidity. I discovered the reasons for what appeared to be cult rituals: swirling the wine in the glass to release more vapor and open up its aromas; letting the wine linger in the mouth, rolling it over all of the tongue’s taste buds; aspirating across the wine so that the aromas reach the nose; slurping the wine to introduce oxygen. Tasting wines in such a thorough manner ensures that the taster can recognize and appreciate the differences – both sweeping and subtle – between them. Being aware of these differences ultimately allows one to truly find a wine he/she enjoys.

But I don’t mean to ramble on about wine. After all, reading a wiki on it doesn’t make me an expert. Who would I be if I didn’t mention games somewhere? Games are often compared to movies, literature, and sometimes dance, but after thinking about it, I’ve come to the conclusion that games more closely resemble the culinary arts. Experiencing a wine or a dish is a physically interactive experience that requires a greater combination of sensual awareness than traditional artistic media. Whereas experiencing a movie require awareness of sights and sounds, experiencing food requires a very acute and trained awareness of sight, smell, taste, and texture. With that said, if one doesn’t consume the wine or the dish with the express intent of seeking to experience all that it has to offer (which typically requires a great amount of disciplined practice), its artistic value can be entirely overlooked. The culinary dichotomy between gluttony and art is a direct analog to the gaming dichotomy between entertainment and art. With food, there are two ways one can approach a dish – as sustenance or as experience. Certainly, one doesn’t necessarily preclude the other – a masterfully prepared dish can be filling, just as an artistic game can be (and, at least at this period in time, often is) entertaining. But works of art in their respective mediums should not depend on those more primal comforts. Paula Deen exempted, no serious chef would define a dish’s appeal by its salt, butter, and fat content – they seek to find complex combinations of flavors and ingredients that will bring taste buds to a place where they’ve never been before. When I think of gorging myself, the foie gras, crab salad in cucumber jus, and tarragon ice cream that I ate at Auberge du Soleil are the last things that come mind. If I wanted sustenance, I’d find myself some fat, juicy steaks, french fries, and Haagen-Dazs. But I went to Napa with the intention of experiencing new and exciting flavors – familiar or otherwise.

Likewise, with “fun” being the all-encompassing buzzword nowadays, isn’t it about time that we started experiencing our games with the same careful attention to detail that others pay to food and wine? “Fun” is such a vague and ultimately meaningless word. What’s “fun” for one person isn’t necessarily “fun” for another. Experienced food critics don’t talk up a wine by leaving it at, “It’s good!” or, “It’s delicious!”. They talk about the wine’s distinguishing and outstanding components. You’re more likely to hear talk about the wine’s aromas, flavors, texture, tannins, and acidity – properties that (ideally) cannot be disputed. Likewise, if we wish to truly acquire a taste for games, we should quit trying to assess its nebulous “fun content” – a value whose apparent lack of tangibility drives endless debates – and delve deeper into the more basic elements that drive those games.  We should poke and prod them with our controllers, scour for theme and symbolism, and dutifully discern the emotions that are brought to mind.

The biggest obstacle in achieving such an analytical mindset is that a common language has not yet been agreed upon. Painters have had many centuries to accumulate a wealth of philosophies and theories concerning the function of elements such as color, point, line, and plane. Taste is already a well-studied science. The chemical components of wine have been dissected several times over. Such foundations allow more serious and intelligent discussions and critiques within their respective arts. However, these kinds of theories and philosophies are only beginning to take form in our own beloved (and immature) medium.  Furthermore, the nature of interactivity as art is an entirely different beast. Whereas cinema can, to a limited extent, borrow and build upon theories established in painting, photography, and music, interactive art is largely unprecedented. Videogames are “on their own,” so to speak.  So it’s not entirely surprising that, in their attempt to grasp something wholly unfamiliar, many designers have erroneously put cinema on a pedestal, aiming to make videogames more and more like movies.

This lack of a videogame foundation is why I greatly respect theorists, critics, and designers that have attempted to formalize the nature of play and interactivity, whether it be Nicole Lazzaro and her “4 Fun Keys”, Chris Bateman and his modern application of Roger Caillois’ theories of play, or Jenova Chen and his recent work with Csikszentmihalyi’s theory of flow.  And I can’t help but mention Newsweek blogger N’Gai Croal, who, in my mind, is doing absolutely groundbreaking work in bringing thoughtful and intelligent discussion of games into the mainstream.  I can only hope that time will bring more structure to game critique and raise it to the level of detail one often finds in food criticism.  I’m getting tired of all of the “this game is fun” crap.  I want my games with paidia overtones and a subtle hint of agon.   The rest of you can go supersize your graphics card.