All joking aside: here’s a short and straight-forward comment: removing or reducing the skill expectations in games fundamentally changes them as operative objects. They become less a complex form which requires systematic and repeated engagement fully to appreciate (like a complex work of literature or music), and become more a ‘hit’ or a ‘fix’ that delivers an instant impression of accomplishment the which is hollowed out and silently undermined by its own superficiality and falsity.

Such an approach is profoundly unethical because it undermines essential values about the connexion between industry, effort, reward, and the subject’s relationship to these things.

What’s interesting about Flower is that the controls do require skill to master. I am significantly better at flying precisely and more creatively than anybody I’ve seen play, but even the “difficult” sections of the game don’t really require this skill. It’s a freedom I discovered myself because of how liberating and natural I felt the conceit and the controls to be. But, despite this poetic element, the actual design of the levels are childish and trite, rendering the ability to fly well as an easter egg. Gaming is a bizarre medium in that way: able to have beautifully constructed elements that are structurally useless. (edit: although I suppose I could point to Chopin and Tarantino as analogs in music and film respectively)

It will be a miracle if the Nintendo/DeNA deal produces anything but soulless moneysucks (just look to Pokémon Shuffle as a disturbing omen), so I’m curious to see if that will take away the pressure from the proper games to be awful or if it will spill over just as Nintendo was starting to regain their footing.

I am glad I finally started to push myself in the skill department in games. It was actually Uncharted that started the trend for me – as unremarkable as those games are in terms of gameplay innovation – because while they added nothing new to pointing and shooting mechanics, they were well done, and playing on hard required me to bump up my video game skill level to “competent”.

It’s also an element I feel is not discussed enough when people judge games. “Too easy” or “too difficult” are thrown around, but these are relative to the player’s skill and are not inherently good or bad. What is more important is if the skill required progresses at an intentional and meaningful pace in coordination with the rest of the game. Thousand Year Door does not pose a challenge for me specifically, but its gameplay arc is still meaningful for the uninitiated, tying its battle progression to both the overworld gameplay and the story. So when I replay it, I don’t have the personal satisfaction of overcoming challenges that I had when I was in high school and worse at video games, but I can appreciate the artful execution of the game.

I used to have difficulty playing FFIX piano pieces, then they became manageable and FFX-2 piano pieces became my new challenge, then those became manageable and then Beethoven became my new challenge. Now (some) Beethoven is manageable and Bach fugues are my new challenge. Uematsu pieces do not lose their value to play for me, even if they no longer push my limits, but I also do not believe they should be all I play.

This is an over-simplified comparison, but still a good way to describe how I look at challenge in video games at the moment.

Today, spending more than an hour a day on a game us nearly unthinkable, and I actually feel guilt when I do because that means I am setting aside other activities (and sometimes responsibilities) to do so.

Perhaps that is the aim, here, with the simpler games? Or at least part of it. The recognition of the aging portion of your market, who reaches that point in adult life where time management is a factor (and likely has less disposable income) might be a driving factor behind games that, while still enjoyable on some level, are less demanding of the player.

Or, perhaps there are days where I qualify as a filthy casual.