➤ Why cel-shaded games are better
A while back on Podtoid, the hosts discussed a reader question regarding the timelessness of cel-shaded games versus “real” texture-mapped games, particularly in looking at how old cel-shaded titles fare against the super realism of today.
The reason is quite obvious: Realism has to provide realism. Illustration doesn’t have to provide anything (except what the artist wants to provide).
Something that works in Illustration’s favor: sympathy. There’s a phenomenon where the closer you get to a real representation of something, the less the viewer can project onto, or more importantly, relate to it. I’m reminded of stick drawings in the caves of Lascaux — how much more do we feel that these people were like us when we see them represented like this instead of some photographic-like renderings? Drawings and illustrations of people work better to elicit sympathy in people than photos of them; the more we can imagine us being like those people, the more we can relate to them. Imagine how different Persepolis would have felt if it had been properly set in the 1970s and filmed in Iran, instead of being animated.
Video game artists can choose styles in order to convey meaning to the players. For example, Okami employed a cel-shaded style that mimicked Sumi-e, and in doing so, took advantage of the style’s impact on the viewer in creating a setting for the story and for gameplay.
I’m also reminded of a story of how the artists of the first Shrek caricatured their original Fiona model because the original tested so poorly with audience. This was an example of the “uncanny valley”, but the uncanny valley is related to Illustration: you have two points on an scale of Representation, the lowest being Abstract and the highest being Explicit. At the low extreme, e.g., an outline of a bottle, the object is open to the most interpretation possible. It is more an idea of a thing than a thing itself, and a viewer can assume not just color and texture, but also purpose and use, time and place. At the high extreme, you have a perfectly rendered image of a full Coke bottle, hot sun glaring off the surface, condensation running down its side. At this point, it needs no imagination on your part — you don’t even wonder about the temperature of the space it is in because of the amount of detail put into its surface.
At this point you almost reject the image because there’s nothing more to it. It becomes a background object. It’s someone else’s Coke, not yours.
“Realism” when it comes to 3D rendering is not an achievable goal. It can never be real, it can only be “very realistic,” and this measure of acceptance changes for each generation. You can read about the “realism” of Tekken 6, but try playing the original Tekken today, you’ll have a good laugh with the realism of 1996.
Now compare Auto Modellista and Gran Turismo on the PS2 in 2002, and know that the PS3’s version of Gran Turismo will still need to be revamped in seven years. But something like Auto Modellista looks fresh, even today.
This is why Illustrated games are so timeless — we find new meanings in their artistic representations as time goes on. Realistic games are only looked back on as not being realistic enough.
