By Juan Devis
Back in the late '80s and early '90s a wave of independent films hit the art house cinemas all across the United States. Alison Anders, Quentin Tarantino, Spike Lee and Steven Soderbergh, to name just a few, rejuvenated the American film scene by releasing personal, small budget films that spoke to a new generation. The success of these films created a tsunami effect in film studios, which had become complacent with their Die Hard Terminator formula and had been looking for a way out from their spiraling budgets and their video game aesthetics. Soon after, studios began to create special financing opportunities and development departments for these indie auteurs, paralleled by the expansive success of the Sundance Film Festival, which became the delivery mechanism for hundreds of independent filmmakers looking for distribution.
The landscape of the video game industry now resembles the conflicted terrain of the film industry of the 1980s. It is estimated that the global market share for video games will surpass $40 billion by 2010, making it the most profitable entertainment industry in the world. But there’s a bug in the system. With production and distribution budgets rocketing to the high 20 mil per game, developers are facing a hard road ahead. If the wholesale price of a single game averages $30, developers must assure that they sell at least 1 million copies to match their spending budget. Instead of looking at more “affordable” solutions, game developers are using (or misusing) all their resources, to create faster consoles and fine tune their graphics to deliver seamless CGI quality. And while they try to bring us closer to reality, the game industry is losing it soul… and creativity.
Fortunately, at the periphery of this multimillion-dollar industry is a group of designers, programmers and activists who are producing games - with very limited resources – that foreshadow the emergence of a true independent movement in the gaming industry. These are games that are interested in texture and emotion, instead of addiction and explosion; games that propose a call to action, becoming tools of change for a new generation; games that “modify” the source code of already existing block-buster titles, giving us a glimpse at the ways in which the industry defines our history and ideology; and finally, games that are not games at all, but rather forums to discuss, exchange ideas, and debate what a game should be about.
For this issue of CA Stories we have the pleasure of presenting you with four games (and alterations) produced here in Los Angeles. With subtle gestures of poetics and appropriation, these indie makers are claiming the lost soul of an industry in disarray, showing us the possibilities inherent to the medium. Enjoy.