[其他] 電子遊戲的藝術究竟是什麼樣的藝術?

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丢手帕也叫游戏，充满了互动，就不能称之为艺术，艺术是精神上的诉求和表达。所以得看具体的表现形式。

太笼统了。

比如俄罗斯方块是游戏里的殿堂级经典，但估计多数人很难认可它是艺术品。

再比如ICO，真说不上是好玩的游戏，但被它感动过的玩家我想很多人都会认可这个游戏是艺术品。

游戏作为一个范畴来说是复杂的，比电影音乐什么的复杂得多，一概而论大概是不行的。

噗。
先纠正很多人把艺术误以为是一种高不可攀的东西的错误观点。
艺术就是技术的极致。ART最早也就是技术的意思。OVER。扯其他的没用。至于国人将艺术飘高到“高深莫测”的地步，属于时代的玩笑，不用在意。
所以游戏互动娱乐的设计技术追求到极致就是艺术。那些声光效果能起一定的辅助作用（主要是辅助互动设计的表达）但不是核心。剧本什么的也是互动的辅助材料。
所以1.一定是互动娱乐。所以二表哥，神秘海域很难（注意是很难，不是不能，因为存在争议）说是艺术。2.一定要体现精彩的设计功力。所以丢手绢，愤怒小鸟什么的也很难说是艺术。

为什么二表哥存在争议呢？因为它确实也是互动娱乐，提供了电影无法提供的体验。只是互动要素的设计不够精湛，互动只是一个壳子而已。也就是说，假如一个艺术类别，它由最重要的A和其次的BCDE部分组成，而这部作品的A做得并不好，BCED却都逆天。你能说它没有做到高标准吗，很难。但你要说它就是标杆，也很难。

posted by wap, platform: SamsungTetris Effect是艺术品

这个问题很好，开展讨论很好，值得鼓励。

不过我觉得有几种观点不利于深入讨论，建议可以忽略掉。

1、一切皆（可）为艺术。
    （前面的贴我提过，这属于消解问题的路数，太极端）

2、游戏好玩就行了，扯啥艺术？
    （这是另一种消解问题的路数，也是极端）

3、丢手绢是不是艺术？俄罗斯方块是不是艺术？
     （内容VS形式，个体VS整体的分歧。
       这里讨论的是【游戏】这个形式 能否成为艺术的可能性，而不是具体某个游戏是不是艺术品。
       个体是不是，并不影响整体可以是的可能性。）

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顺便一提，艺术这个概念还有一个很容易感觉无法沟通的地方，就是在于【感知门槛】。

同一个事物，对不同敏感度的人而言，感知颗粒度就是门槛。
没有先天的物质基础（比如色盲者“非歧义”无法感知绘画色彩的缤纷），
没有后天的修炼（比如不掌握对应的语言，就感知不到对仗和押韵的结构美），
甚至没有社会模因（模因，是专有名词）的潜移默化，也不能察觉罗密欧朱丽叶故事中两人遭遇的两难困境
……以上都能成为影响认知的门槛。

一言蔽之，【审美共性】这个东西也许本来就难以获得共识。
——知音难觅，而大多数人get不到你的feel，这才是常态，并不奇怪。

游戏不是艺术

游戏是一种娱乐

你可以把游戏当作艺术来做

但归根结底是让玩家来玩的

光看不玩就能理解的不是游戏范畴

举个最简单的例子就是音游

作曲家做的曲子是要让你来演奏谱面而不是听

当然很多开发者牛逼到了光让你听就能觉得很牛逼的境界

那是另一回事

[ 本帖最后由 bushsq001 于 2019-11-5 09:34 编辑 ]

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“这是一种永恒的现象：贪婪的意志总是能找到一种手段，凭借笼罩万物的幻象，把它的造物拘留在人生中，迫使他们生存下去。一种人被苏格拉底式的求知欲束缚住，妄想知识可以治愈生存的永恒创伤；另一种人被眼前飘展的诱人的艺术美之幻幕包围住；第三种人求助于形而上的慰藉，相信永恒生命在现象的漩涡下川流不息……我们所谓文化的一切，就是由这些兴奋剂组成的。按照调配的比例，就主要是苏格拉底文化，或艺术文化，或悲剧文化。”——尼采

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一切都可以成为艺术啊，一切还都可以成为禅意呢茶道、花道、香道不都是禅意么。问题在于你为什么非要在喝茶的时候体会禅意，玩游戏的时候感受艺术，你就不能直接去玩艺术么？

Opinion

Martin Scorsese: I Said Marvel Movies Aren’t Cinema. Let Me Explain.

Cinema is an art form that brings you the unexpected. In superhero movies, nothing is at risk, a director says.

By Martin Scorsese

Mr. Scorsese is an Academy Award-winning director, writer and producer.

Nov. 4, 2019

“It’s a perilous time in film exhibition, and there are fewer independent theaters than ever,” says Mr. Scorsese.Credit...Jasu Hu

When I was in England in early October, I gave an interview to Empire magazine. I was asked a question about Marvel movies. I answered it. I said that I’ve tried to watch a few of them and that they’re not for me, that they seem to me to be closer to theme parks than they are to movies as I’ve known and loved them throughout my life, and that in the end, I don’t think they’re cinema.

Some people seem to have seized on the last part of my answer as insulting, or as evidence of hatred for Marvel on my part. If anyone is intent on characterizing my words in that light, there’s nothing I can do to stand in the way.

Many franchise films are made by people of considerable talent and artistry. You can see it on the screen. The fact that the films themselves don’t interest me is a matter of personal taste and temperament. I know that if I were younger, if I’d come of age at a later time, I might have been excited by these pictures and maybe even wanted to make one myself. But I grew up when I did and I developed a sense of movies — of what they were and what they could be — that was as far from the Marvel universe as we on Earth are from Alpha Centauri.

For me, for the filmmakers I came to love and respect, for my friends who started making movies around the same time that I did, cinema was about revelation — aesthetic, emotional and spiritual revelation. It was about characters — the complexity of people and their contradictory and sometimes paradoxical natures, the way they can hurt one another and love one another and suddenly come face to face with themselves.

It was about confronting the unexpected on the screen and in the life it dramatized and interpreted, and enlarging the sense of what was possible in the art form.

And that was the key for us: it was an art form. There was some debate about that at the time, so we stood up for cinema as an equal to literature or music or dance. And we came to understand that the art could be found in many different places and in just as many forms — in “The Steel Helmet” by Sam Fuller and “Persona” by Ingmar Bergman, in “It’s Always Fair Weather” by Stanley Donen and Gene Kelly and “Scorpio Rising” by Kenneth Anger, in “Vivre Sa Vie” by Jean-Luc Godard and “The Killers” by Don Siegel.

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Or in the films of Alfred Hitchcock — I suppose you could say that Hitchcock was his own franchise. Or that he was our franchise. Every new Hitchcock picture was an event. To be in a packed house in one of the old theaters watching “Rear Window” was an extraordinary experience: It was an event created by the chemistry between the audience and the picture itself, and it was electrifying.

And in a way, certain Hitchcock films were also like theme parks. I’m thinking of “Strangers on a Train,” in which the climax takes place on a merry-go-round at a real amusement park, and “Psycho,” which I saw at a midnight show on its opening day, an experience I will never forget. People went to be surprised and thrilled, and they weren’t disappointed.

Sixty or 70 years later, we’re still watching those pictures and marveling at them. But is it the thrills and the shocks that we keep going back to? I don’t think so. The set pieces in “North by Northwest” are stunning, but they would be nothing more than a succession of dynamic and elegant compositions and cuts without the painful emotions at the center of the story or the absolute lostness of Cary Grant’s character.

The climax of “Strangers on a Train” is a feat, but it’s the interplay between the two principal characters and Robert Walker’s profoundly unsettling performance that resonate now.

Some say that Hitchcock’s pictures had a sameness to them, and perhaps that’s true — Hitchcock himself wondered about it. But the sameness of today’s franchise pictures is something else again. Many of the elements that define cinema as I know it are there in Marvel pictures. What’s not there is revelation, mystery or genuine emotional danger. Nothing is at risk. The pictures are made to satisfy a specific set of demands, and they are designed as variations on a finite number of themes.

They are sequels in name but they are remakes in spirit, and everything in them is officially sanctioned because it can’t really be any other way. That’s the nature of modern film franchises: market-researched, audience-tested, vetted, modified, revetted and remodified until they’re ready for consumption.

Another way of putting it would be that they are everything that the films of Paul Thomas Anderson or Claire Denis or Spike Lee or Ari Aster or Kathryn Bigelow or Wes Anderson are not. When I watch a movie by any of those filmmakers, I know I’m going to see something absolutely new and be taken to unexpected and maybe even unnameable areas of experience. My sense of what is possible in telling stories with moving images and sounds is going to be expanded.

So, you might ask, what’s my problem? Why not just let superhero films and other franchise films be? The reason is simple. In many places around this country and around the world, franchise films are now your primary choice if you want to see something on the big screen. It’s a perilous time in film exhibition, and there are fewer independent theaters than ever. The equation has flipped and streaming has become the primary delivery system. Still, I don’t know a single filmmaker who doesn’t want to design films for the big screen, to be projected before audiences in theaters.

That includes me, and I’m speaking as someone who just completed a picture for Netflix. It, and it alone, allowed us to make “The Irishman” the way we needed to, and for that I’ll always be thankful. We have a theatrical window, which is great. Would I like the picture to play on more big screens for longer periods of time? Of course I would. But no matter whom you make your movie with, the fact is that the screens in most multiplexes are crowded with franchise pictures.

And if you’re going to tell me that it’s simply a matter of supply and demand and giving the people what they want, I’m going to disagree. It’s a chicken-and-egg issue. If people are given only one kind of thing and endlessly sold only one kind of thing, of course they’re going to want more of that one kind of thing.

But, you might argue, can’t they just go home and watch anything else they want on Netflix or iTunes or Hulu? Sure — anywhere but on the big screen, where the filmmaker intended her or his picture to be seen.

In the past 20 years, as we all know, the movie business has changed on all fronts. But the most ominous change has happened stealthily and under cover of night: the gradual but steady elimination of risk. Many films today are perfect products manufactured for immediate consumption. Many of them are well made by teams of talented individuals. All the same, they lack something essential to cinema: the unifying vision of an individual artist. Because, of course, the individual artist is the riskiest factor of all.

I’m certainly not implying that movies should be a subsidized art form, or that they ever were. When the Hollywood studio system was still alive and well, the tension between the artists and the people who ran the business was constant and intense, but it was a productive tension that gave us some of the greatest films ever made — in the words of Bob Dylan, the best of them were “heroic and visionary.”

Today, that tension is gone, and there are some in the business with absolute indifference to the very question of art and an attitude toward the history of cinema that is both dismissive and proprietary — a lethal combination. The situation, sadly, is that we now have two separate fields: There’s worldwide audiovisual entertainment, and there’s cinema. They still overlap from time to time, but that’s becoming increasingly rare. And I fear that the financial dominance of one is being used to marginalize and even belittle the existence of the other.

For anyone who dreams of making movies or who is just starting out, the situation at this moment is brutal and inhospitable to art. And the act of simply writing those words fills me with terrible sadness.

Martin Scorsese is an Academy Award-winning director, writer and producer. His new film is “The Irishman.”

The Times is committed to publishing a diversity of lettersto the editor. We’d like to hear what you think about this or any of our articles. Here are some tips. And here’s our email: letters@nytimes.com.

Follow The New York Times Opinion section on Facebook, Twitter (@NYTopinion) and Instagram.

[ 本帖最后由 grammyliu 于 2019-11-5 17:48 编辑 ]

Posted by: Sony H4493
你说的这个仅仅是游戏的艺术
但是电子游戏这一技术产物具备了文字、音乐、图画、视频和互动等多种功能，而文字、音乐、图画和视频等工具在人类历史中承载了多种艺术形式与流派，那么融汇到电子游戏当中，就自然地继承了这些工具承载的功能，随着技术的进步这些功能不断的完善并且能够与人进行互动，许多体验者和制作者自然地想在这些功能上得到更高的追求，这就使电子游戏早已脱离了它作为游戏本身的价值，成为融汇成多元艺术的工具

从我的观点看，艺术的的一个必要条件是单向表达。大部分游戏和电影这种在制作过程中会不断根据用户反馈进行调整的，不能算是艺术。

想起张大锤说：获得一种感受

游戏能够给你一种感受，让人从现实生活中抽离出来，就是好游戏，就是艺术

这种感受是普遍的，悲剧让人哭喜剧让人笑，也是个人的，难以言喻的，当你通关退出游戏伸懒腰的时候，慢慢褪去的那种东西，就是这个

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通过互动带给给人以享受


所以游戏的艺术和运动包括棋牌的艺术有共通之处。
和影音类的艺术比如音乐影视绘画摄影这些反而大相径庭。