Just over a month ago, American video game developer Bungie released “Halo 3: ODST,” the latest installment in the popular “Halo” series.
The game, welcomed with warm praise by critics, builds on the epic story of its predecessors: something about the impending extinction of mankind at the hands of a theocratic alien race. Frankly, I’m not very familiar with the veritable wealth of Halo literature out there. That’s not a big deal though because, even more frankly, it’s not at all what makes ODST worth talking about. What makes it worth talking about is the fact that it’s art.
This notion may seem laughable at first, but a little investigation into the structure of the game renders it more realistic.
Consider first the highly personalized narrative approach taken by the game. While this feature is not necessarily different from previous Halo titles at first glance, ODST takes it to a new level. First of all, the game is rich in flashbacks linked with its characters. Each serves as an introduction to a portion of game play experienced through the point of view of a specific character, slowly introducing and developing the cast. Eventually, these vignettes add up to solve a sort of “mystery” involving the whereabouts of each character in relation to the others. The result is the creation of an effect reminiscent of detective films, especially because poking around until a clue is found is what triggers these flashbacks.
Now couple that search-for-missing-persons feel with the game’s updated soundtrack. “ODST” doesn’t feature the same ethereal Gregorian chant as its counterparts; instead, it breaks with tradition and introduces elements of jazz to the “Halo” experience. The more modern music, in conjunction with an abundance of dark and rainy environments, works with the narrative structure of the game to imbibe it with a feeling of film noir. It’s apparent that “ODST” is at least taking cues from cinema, if not actively nodding to it.
It’s also worth noting that the “ODST” team brought numerous other innovations to the drawing board. For example, voice actors were recorded speaking in dialogue instead of delivering their lines separately, which is considered highly unorthodox. At times, the actors were even encouraged to improvise.
None of this, however, should really come as any surprise. After all, a large portion of the team responsible for putting the game together was not assembled specifically for that project. In fact, it didn’t even exist at the time. Instead, they were working on a project known as “Halo Chronicles,” which was tied in closely with director Peter Jackson’s work on a “Halo” film. After the cancellation of both of those projects, though, the theater-related team was displaced to the newly conceived “ODST” project. From there, it’s easy to see how so much of this Hollywood business worked its way into the game.
So it would seem that “Halo 3: ODST” has everything it needs if we want to call it art. For those who are interested, then, all that remains to be seen is if the project can somehow separate itself from dork culture and garner enough interest and acclaim to infiltrate the upper echelon known as “fine art.”
For most, though, the question is not whether video games like “ODST” are art, but why it matters. In some ways, sure, it really doesn’t. We can appreciate them all the same, regardless of what label is attached to them. In a couple of very big ways, however, it does matter.
It matters because of the breadth of the work, and because of its potential. The video game, if it truly is the big new art form, is more all encompassing than anything else that came before it, including the cinema from which it was born. In its construction, it draws on each and every artistic capacity, bringing them together to create a new genre, one in which all capabilities have not yet been exhausted. Its scope is essentially unparalleled, and largely still unexplored. And it pays well, too.
In a time of financial instability, when creative ventures such as music and art are likely being forgone by graduates in favor of safer career choices, the video game may just present the best of both worlds. For a generation of young adults who grew up and evolved with the video games they played, then, such an opportunity could not have come at a better time.
Chris Bassil is a Trinity sophomore. His column runs every other Wednesday.
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