Playability vs Realism

It never fails.  You’ll be on a forum for your current favorite play, pouring out your insights on improving the game, and then you make an ill-fated reference to “realism.” As day follows night, the fan-bois will then rush to be the first to parrot some permutation of the over-played line “it’s a game, not RL.”  At that point, you have a choice; you can either take your enhancement thread off on a tangent, away from substantive discussion, or you can just ignore the comment.  If you’re like me, it’s hard to pass on the easy kill, but then again, the rehashing does get old.  So, in the interest of saving enhancement threads everywhere, I’d like to lay out a universal response to this non-sense once and for all, and just link it where ever the phrase “it’s a game, not RL” rears its ugly head.  So let’s roll up our sleeves, and break apart this little cliché.

Whether those who use it realize it or not, the line suggests that there is a dichotomy between something being realistic and something being fun, that somehow realism and playability are opposites.  Now, we’ve all experienced a game where realism was taken too far, and I suppose that's why this line is so popular, but most of us also know from experience that realism just makes games better.  It’s a reasonable question; when does realism help, and when does it hurt?

First, let’s consider some positive cases for realism.  Better graphics, better sound, and better physics – in all these cases, a large part of what we mean by “better” is “more realistic.”  When we say a game has a solid plot-line, or a good back-story, or strong character development, we’re saying, among other things, that these elements are “believable” or, to use another word, “realistic.” 

Let’s face it, a major attraction to computer gaming is fantasy and escape.  To achieve escape requires immersion, which in turn requires a suspension of disbelief.  Realistic graphics, sounds, mechanics, story-lines, etc, all make it easier for you to suspend your disbelief and achieve immersion. The easier developers make it for you to believe that you really are being hunted by zombie ninjas, or exploring distant stars, or commanding a medieval army, the more focused you become on your role in the story.  Nothing will snap you back to reality quicker than broken, unrealistic game elements.  One moment you’re the beloved president of the world’s most technologically advanced empire, fending off the primitive belligerents that surround your enlightened nation.  Then, after watching your modern battleship inexplicably sunk while conducting shore bombardment operations against a division of entrenched musketeers, you’re suddenly slapped back to the reality that this is a poorly implemented game, and you’re a middle-aged guy who’s already stayed up way too late.  The opposite of realism is not playability; the opposite of realism is gamey-ness, and gamey-ness kills immersion. 

But as I suggested before, we’ve all seen realism taken too far as well.  So, when does more realism get to be too much realism?  A classic example is requiring characters to relieve themselves regularly, or otherwise to perform mundane tasks repeatedly.  When realism gets into the realm of tedium, it can ruin an otherwise great game.  Then again, some people actually like The Sims and Diner Dash, but digital masochism is not the thrust of this discussion.  Beyond tediousness, I can imagine that there is also potential for going too far in representing complexity or gore, and perhaps there are other aspects of realism that can be taken too far as well.

We all have our own tolerance levels to these various aspects of realism.  For myself, I have a low tolerance for tediousness, a moderate tolerance for gore, and I just can’t seem to get enough complexity.  Knowing your tolerance levels for various aspects of realism will help you identify games and genres that offer you the most enjoyment

Bottom line: realism is critical to good games, but (as with just about anything) it can be taken too far.  What’s too much for you, might be too little, or just right, for someone else.  Different strokes.

If you have been a purveyor of the false dichotomy we’ve analyzed here, I’d recommend that when such discussions come up in the future, that you try articulating an actual position, rather than parroting an obvious and irrelevant truism.  Use your words.  Perhaps describe exactly why you feel the suggestion would take realism too far.  Maybe the suggestion seems too complicated or tedious.  Say that.  Maybe the idea just frightens you.  Say something else, or run the risk of being invited to play Hello Kitty Online.  Maybe you just don’t care, but you think the line must be clever because so many other people use it.  In that case, say nothing.  Ever.