Mundanity is alluring. Typically a sentence like that would seem like a fairly overt contradiction, but when it comes to video games it tends to hold true. Games are built on bombast, splendor and extravagance. Most commercial games appeal to the player looking for the greatest spectacle possible. Graphical power struggles have existed in the industry for decades, but the minute, sparkly details in modern consoles are exacerbated in the battle for people’s loyalty.
Reverting games back to the more “bland” titles of yesteryear seems like an illogical step backwards. There used to be tons of obscure, obtuse simulation games on PC or Nintendo consoles. From managing an airline company to flight simulators, people were able to explore these niche industries and create their own stories out of the underlying systems within the games.
There were no authored, on-screen catastrophes designed to blow your eyeballs out of their sockets. It relied on a simplistic concept that didn’t try to shovel gameplay conventions down your throat. I’m not trying to paint yesterday as any sort of golden age—your grandpa can do that for me—but it has been depressing to see modern technology used more for eye candy than advancing intelligent mundane storytelling.
“Cart Life” is probably the best example of taking this concept to heart. Released back in 2011, the players choose a particular character to control such as a new immigrant to America. You then take over a specific business and go through each meticulous task involved in running something like a newspaper stand. Between grabbing change, unwrapping papers and setting prices, each portion of your life is affected by even seemingly unimportant decisions.
The brilliance of “Cart Life” is that it forces you to survive in the world as well. Initially, as an immigrant the city seems foreign, and trying to navigate its streets feels far more disorienting than exploring the vast expanses of a game like “Grand Theft Auto.”
Expanding the idea of consequence is something games have constantly struggled to do. Exploring the minutiae of everyday life allows players to see the effect tiny details can have, while also shattering the typical one-off binary result of most choices. Being able to go back against a previous choice is a feature notably absent from most games. Not all decisions have to be completely life-altering ones; grounding a few more in reality would go a long way towards advancing the narrative capabilities of the medium.
If you’ll indulge me for a minute, an example could be taking on the role of my buddy Jack Casey, future editor-in-chief of The Daily Cardinal. The stakes may not be life and death, but Casey’s mental state will assuredly be on the line while managing the paper. Under the constant time crunch of determining what should best be covered, it’s easy to see the accumulation of choices building up.
The goal is to expand readership, but avoiding pissing off the wrong crowd is a tall order. Some group would constantly be breathing down his neck, asking for coverage and lamenting the absence of an article about the theater department’s new play, “The Running of the Lackadaisical Sloths.” Choices might still be binary at points when you decide one article over another, but you will still be setting the agenda for a campus. The ripple effects may be exacerbated compared to the paper’s actual impact, but then again, I don’t want to sell short the mushroom-cloud like impact Casey’s ascension may have on University of Wisconsin-Madison as a whole.
Too often games rely on tired tropes in an attempt to dazzle players rather than challenge them intellectually. The games that do take advantage of the ability for games to dole out the collective consequences of decisions in a more cerebral setting will hit upon a subset of the industry that deserves more attention than it’s currently receiving.
Is there a mundane aspect of your life that would make for a great video game? Fill Adam in at arparis@wisc.edu.
