It's time to change the name of video games

When we hear "video game", the term might evoke images of casual entertainment, endless win-or-lose scenarios, or pixelated graphics from past decades. But in today’s world, where certain titles offer profound narratives, richly developed characters, and immersive environments, the label "video game" feels limiting. Many of the most celebrated titles today are more than games, they’re intricate works of art, blending storytelling, visual design, and music into experiences that can be as emotionally moving as a powerful film or novel.

Take Silent Hill 2, for example. This classic horror title dives into the psyche of its protagonist and explores heavy themes of guilt, grief, and redemption. It’s not a game meant to scare for the sake of thrills; it’s a journey through a haunted mind, crafted with deep symbolism and psychological layers. The Last of Us, another iconic title, tells a story of survival and connection that resonates on a deeply human level. As players journey with Joel and Ellie through a broken world, they are drawn into a tale that challenges their values and confronts them with intense moral questions. These are not merely games; they are profound experiences that echo long after the controller is put down.

Then there are expansive worlds like The Witcher 3 and Red Dead Redemption 2, where the lines between history, folklore, and fantasy blur into landscapes so rich and alive they feel like tangible places. The artistry in these games is undeniable, from their meticulously crafted settings to the moral complexity of their characters. It’s not just about "playing" these worlds but about living in them, exploring every nook and witnessing how each choice shapes the narrative.

In single-player narratives, there’s a unique interplay between the story and the player’s actions. When you lose, it’s not just about failure; it’s often tied to the death of the protagonist. This creates a dissonance because, within the story’s context, the character isn’t supposed to die at that point. Unlike what happens in sports games, where losing feels more organic. In those cases, a loss stems from being outperformed by an opponent, mirroring the unpredictability of real-life competition. This highlights how single-player games intertwine gameplay and narrative, making the stakes feel personal and connected to the story’s progression.

In single-player narratives, there’s a unique interplay between the story and the player’s actions. When you lose in such games, it’s often tied to the death of the protagonist. This creates a narrative dissonance, as the protagonist’s death is usually not aligned with the storyline at that point. The loss becomes a moment of interruption, pulling the player out of the story to try again. Unlike losing in sports games which feels more organic and grounded. When you lose in a sports game, it’s because the opposing team/player outperformed you. This mirrors real-world competition, where success and failure are natural outcomes of skill and strategy, without disrupting an overarching narrative. This distinction highlights how single-player games blend storytelling with gameplay, making each failure feel personally tied to the narrative stakes.

This is why calling these experiences "video games" is often too simplistic. The term works well for titles centered on win-or-lose scenarios, such as sports or competitive games, where the objective is clear, and success or failure defines the experience. However, it falls short when describing single-player story-driven games. These titles focus on narrative immersion and emotional connection, often delivering experiences that transcend traditional definitions of gameplay. By using the same term for both categories, we fail to capture the unique artistic depth and storytelling potential of narrative-driven games.

As this medium continues to evolve, it's time we consider language that better encapsulates its essence. Terms like "interactive storytelling" or "immersive art" might help reflect the creative and artistic depths these experiences offer. By moving beyond "video game," we can acknowledge the sophistication, creativity, and transformative impact this art form has on players and on culture at large. It's a medium that deserves recognition not just as entertainment but as an art form that can inspire, challenge, and resonate.