The Soul of a Game, and Why Time Magazine’s ALL TIME 100 VIDEO GAMES Perhaps Wasn’t the Best Idea

There seems to be lot of interest in what constitutes the “best” games from the “worst” these days.

And yes I realize this is obvious but bear with me here, I’m going to try and explain why trying to label games as best and worst is entirely fruitless.

Maybe it’s the incredibly competitive nature of our nation to want to say “THIS ONE’S #1!! AND THIS ONE’S NUMBER CRAP!” but video games are far too personal and varied to be divided so decisively.

You see, unlike a film or book or any other form of media, video games often vary completely depending on the person playing them; more often than not two people going into the same game will emerge with two entirely different perceptions, perhaps even adventures. This is the basis for why titles like “best” and “worst” in gaming are overall incredibly difficult to pinpoint. Video games don’t have theories applied to them, there is no critical literary or post modernism when it comes to gaming, (not yet anyways) so how can we divide games any further than claiming one is good, and the other, well, not so good?

Video games require so much more of an effort than film, television, and even literature these days- so why do we try and define them by the hinderingly simple formulas we use to categorize the before mentioned?

Quite simply we have no way to really say which games are best, some people consider Dead Island a marvel of zombie apocalypse gaming and I (an overly zealous fan of the entire apocalyptic field) won’t ever touch that game again. When you invest so much of your personality, time, and effort into a media form it becomes a very dangerous thing to try and proclaim what game IS THE BEST EVER FOR SURESIES.

Time Magazine just released what they believe to be the ALL-TIME 100 Video Games and there doesn’t seem to be a single person (as of yet) who 100% agrees with Time’s assertions. 

Time Magazine doesn’t seem to realize that what they’re doing is somewhat offensive to most gamers; there can be an individual’s list of best games of a genre, or even an organization’s best games, but to claim there is an elite list of super games and that the rest are losers kind of kicks dirt in the faces of those who don’t agree (aka everyone).

(And sadly in the case of Time Magazine’s list, I’m more than a little suspicious that they simply chose the best-known and most controversial games for their “Best games Eva”  list.)

After discussing it with a few writer, gamer, and geeky friends we all came to the conclusion that Time Magazine’s list should probably just be ignored, and if you can’t ignore it accept it for what it is (a small group of similarly minded people picking games they grew up with/have played and loved/have heard of/their kids asked them to buy.)

            All in all it can be argued that identifying best and worst of anything (especially games) is pointless, although labeling good and bad is remarkably simple. And surprisingly in the case of good and bad (vs. the case of best and worst) there seems to be more comraderie than competition; I can’t tell you how many times I’ve felt instantly connected to someone because of an off-handed and obscure game reference, or a confession that Spyro was one their best friends growing up.

I’ve come to believe that this is due to a seemingly simple (but actually remarkably complex) element found in every good game and glaringly lacking in every bad one: a “soul.”

Of course this is coming from someone who is pretty positive souls don’t actually exist, but soul seems to be the only word to describe that element of a good video game that snags your interest and gets you emotionally invested to a level of real love and dedication.

Video games, when done right, inspire creativity, bravery, hope, and happiness more effectivey than a story, a film, a television show or even a comic book. Video games bring the possibility of adventure to life, and those with this “soul” have the very real capability of molding the lives of both children and adults.

What’s surprising is that games with qualities that could make them “bad,” when in possession of a soul, are generally agreed to be good. Games with glitches, undeveloped story, bad graphics, can all be excused by that heartfelt quality that endears them to us and makes them a part of our lives.

Which is perhaps why it’s so simple and fun to jump all over games that are “bad” and soulless. For example, where it would be a travesty in my home to smack talk about Sly Cooper I have been non-stop griping over Kingdoms of Amalur and how I’m just running around doing meaningless quests and I don’t know anything about the real storyline and what I have to kill fifteen brownies now I DONT CARE ANYMORE JUST LET ME DIE…to just about anyone who will listen.

The “soul” of a game is what I’ve come to think is a complex combination of originality, novelty, depth of environment (and I don’t necessarily mean graphics, storyline or character development), and endearment. It’s why some games can make you cry over the death of a minor character and others make you wish the main character would fall on a pitchfork and just end it.

Where it gets even more complicated is when you consider that what attracts me and my friends to specific games may be what also attracts us to each other, and therefore even my list of best games or games with “souls” could (and probably is) entirely different from a person from a different part of the world/country/city/block, etc.

Which is why a list of “Best Ever” games (and not “This Person/Company’s Top” games) is ridiculous, pointless, and a little insulting. Video games are personal, and don’t you try to tell me that Angry Birds has made more of an impact on my life than Amnesia (which is the only game to ever make me cry AND scream simultaneously).

It’s impossible to judge what games have had the greatest influence, and for Time Magazine to pretend to know isn’t all that appropriate or appreciated (although I do appreciate that The Oregon Trail is on there).

What games are missing from Time Magazine’s ALL-TIME 100 Video Game List? Or what doesn’t belong there? Let us know!