Video Games and Art: The Plan

The answer to the question of whether video games can be considered ‘art’ is usually found in the eye of the beholder. Is it ‘art’ when a game manages to occupy your attention for days at a time, or when it perfects a combination of philosophical commentary and curb stomping? With art, as well as video games, people appreciate different things. For me The Plan left the impression that something truly provocative and beautiful can really make you appreciate the potential for artistic expression in the gaming industry, even if in retrospect that potential wasn’t fully realised here.

Coming to us from Krillbite Studio, The Plan was a side project that some people claim isn’t a game at all. You control a fly as it ascends from its lowly perch towards the heavens, avoiding falling leafs incapable of killing you. There is wonderment here and a lack of gameplay there; provocative imagery one way and a sense of boredom another. Ultimately neither side of the debate is entirely incorrect.

Obstacles like falling leaves can slow you temporarily, but you're surprisingly durable for a fly and cannot be killed in-game. If the game fails to draw you in with its atmosphere, there is little else to really enjoy.
Obstacles like falling leaves can slow you temporarily, but you’re surprisingly durable for a fly and cannot be killed in-game. If the game fails to draw you in with its atmosphere, there is little else to really enjoy.

I begrudgingly feel that The Plan is not quite a game, but rather a piece of interactive art. The stunningly beautiful soundtrack; the sheer simplicity of the gameplay combined with breath-taking imagery, and a conclusion that perfectly tops the project’s commentary on the nature of existence through perspective made this a touching, provocative piece that I believe is accessible enough for a wide audience.

The journey of the fly is a profound one, and if you can get into it, 'The Plan' is thoroughly enjoyable. I won't spoil the ending, but it provides a perfect pinnacle to the experience artistically.
The journey of the fly is a profound one, and if you can get into it, The Plan is thoroughly enjoyable. I won’t spoil the ending, but it provides a perfect pinnacle to the experience artistically.

However, there is little beyond this. Aside from the occasional object to avoid, there is little to do here aside from holding the ‘up’ button. Whereas emotion is mastered in this piece, gameplay is lacking. The obstacles themselves feel almost token, given all they do is weigh you down until you become bored and move on. That is not to say that the overall impact of The Plan is lessened: it is simply that, whereas other ‘artistic’ games also focus on challenge and gameplay, The Plan is entirely focused on its artistic impression. Once this has been experienced, The Plan loses all replay value.

Yet, in a way, this conflict makes it even more artistically unique in that it is harder to define. Just as listening to classical music or visiting a museum every so often can leave an unfamiliarly pleasing impact, so did The Plan. It’s an opportunity for gamers to broaden their perspectives and sample something more profound, if only shortly.

To some a game, to some a piece of art; to others an exercise in boredom with no replayability, The Plan is definitely not for everyone. For it to truly be a piece of art in video game form, it would require a certain amount of replayability, or at least gameplay beyond moving the fly upwards. It’s certainly created a decent amount of debate for a casual game, and The Plan is definitely worth experiencing so you can decide for yourself. As for whether video games can be considered art, the truth remains in the eye of the beholder: diversity makes games accessible, and when one stands out as much as The Plan, we’re reminded of what an artist can do once they’ve mastered their medium. As we continue into the new console generation, this is comforting to say the least.


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