Another SFist post from me is up, where I go off on a tangent about Roger Ebert’s claim that videogames are inherently inferior to real art like literature and film.

It surprised me that his comments bugged me as much as they did, considering that I don’t technically work in games anymore. And I’m as dismissive of videogames as anyone else. But I’ve always thought that I’m dismissive of them partly because of all the wasted potential. It’s not just the usual complaint that 90% of any medium is crap, although that’s definitely the case with games (probably more like 98%).

It’s that even people who would normally be the strongest advocates of the potential of games — the fans and game developers themselves — are giving up on that potential. People defend games because they’re either defending their hobby or defending their profession, but nobody can seem to agree what a game is supposed to be, exactly. Other than profitable.

People just seem to have this implicit understanding that although Michael Bay and Jerry Bruckheimer movies get the biggest audiences, movies are capable of more than just explosions and car chases; they’ve finally been accepted by most as legitimate art. Even television and comic books, which have an even higher crap-to-quality ratio than movies, get the acknowledgement that they put out something great every once in a while. But more and more, people are saying that either games are nothing more than escapist entertainment, and that that’s all they should try to be. I’m fine with escapist entertainment; I don’t think you necessarily have to have meaning to have merit. And I think that good solid game design is an accomplishment in and of itself. So what’s the problem?

The problem is that I’ve played enough games to see what can happen when you get just the right combination of game and narrative, or as Ebert’s complaint put it: player choice and authorial control. It’s the point when you realize, “ah, I use the barrels to float the ramp up into position” in Half-Life 2, or “ah, I have to put a bucket of mud over the door” in Monkey Island 2. Day of the Tentacle was full of them. They’re points where you are actually working with the authors to finish telling the story. The realization hits you like a ton of bricks; it’s “ah, Rosebud represents Kane’s loss of innocence” and “Moby Dick is Ahab’s battle with mortality and fear of the unknown,” times 100. That’s the tool that gives videogames an artistic potential that nothing else has.

And the problem with that, is that very few games are actually using that tool to make something of real resonance beyond “just” entertainment. I’ve said that Half-Life 2 is the best videogame ever made, and I still think so. But I think it works on the same level as Aliens — easily one of my top 10 favorite movies, but not exactly a profound statement on the human condition. There shouldn’t be any question that it’s art. If Fantasia qualifies as art, then so does Rez. And if The City of Lost Children is art, so is Grim Fandango.

The real question is whether games will be allowed to take that extra step to make something profound. I honestly think The Sims takes a step in that direction — it’s not just a dollhouse or even a social simulator, but it has something to say as a parody of consumerism and an abstraction of social behavior and mundane life. And somebody on a message board hit on what I couldn’t figure out about Shadows of the Colossus that made it noteworthy — it’s not just the act of solving the boss fights that’s cool, but the sense of moral ambiguity throughout the game. You have to go through all the tasks you’re given just to complete the game, but just through the atmosphere of the game and the simple set-up, you spend the entire time wondering whether you’re doing the right thing.

People keep insisting that games are still in their infancy and that’s why there hasn’t been a real stand-out that’s universally acknowledged as a masterpiece instead of just “good for a game.” Technical improvements in rendering and AI will keep coming, and they’ll go a long way towards making games better, but what really needs to happen is for more developers to realize their potential as capital-A Art, and make something that’s not just a fun diversion but actually has some relevance.

I’m not a car guy, at all. I hardly know anything about them, I can’t generally tell one make or model from the other, I’m not much more than just a functional driver. I drove a Jeep for a few years mostly because my brother liked them, and it was the cheapest convertible I could afford so soon out of college. As far as I can remember, I’ve never really gotten all that excited about a car other than the hybrids, and that was just because of all the computer screens.

But I keep seeing the new Ford Mustang and thinking Daaaaaaamn. If that was my ride I would truly be bad ass. I haven’t had that gut reaction from a car since I was around 12 and got convinced I wanted a Trans Am so I could be like both Knight Rider and The Bandit.

I don’t know if it’s because of my early mid-life crisis, or some over-reaction to all the Fiona Apple and Norah Jones, or if it’s just my inner redneck. And I feel weird getting all excited over a Ford. But just look at the thing — that’s what a car’s supposed to look like. Not some ubiquitous black Volkswagen Jetta that might as well have “GENERIC CAR” stamped on the side in Helvetica right over a UPC barcode that you drive to the Pottery Barn and the Apple Store. This is a bad-ass V-6 that you use to haul ass down to the Wal-Mart to get a butt rock compilation CD and crank it all the way up, man while you’re driving God knows where thinking about NASCAR and how automatic transmission is for pussies. And blogging.

Anyone who knows me at all will say that my defining characteristic is my positive, upbeat attitude. It’s infectious, even. I don’t ask “can I?” I ask “I can!”

So where a lesser man would look at my situation — it’s November 28th and I’ve only written just over 12,000 words of my 50,000 word novel — and see abject, crushing failure, I see it as empowering. I’ve discovered my true strength, and that is procrastination. I always knew I had what it takes to put off doing real work. But I’ve had years of experience at that. This was a purely personal goal for my own self-improvement, and not only did I manage to do everything but work on that personal goal, but I put it off spectacularly.

Last week, for instance, I had the whole Thanksgiving break off without ever leaving the folks’ house. And a big chunk of three hours every night when everyone else had gone to bed and I was still awake. Perfect novel writing time — for the weak. I showed determination instead, and watched hours and hours of “Arrested Development” on DVD. Two five-hour plane flights? I read two Terry Pratchett books.

Now I can finish the book if I write 19,000 words a day for the next two days. That’s not going to happen. I like to stay optimistic, but there are limits. So I’m laying down new ground rules. I’m going to set a goal of hitting the 20,000 word mark by the end of NaNoWriMo. It could happen. Then I’m setting up a deadline of January 1st to have the thing finished for reals. Not 50,000 words, but finished — could be more. (The “official” NaNoWriMo guidelines say to step away from the thing at around 50,000 words, even if you have to contract the ending to finish around that limit.)

And congrats to j00 and seppopolous who’ve already finished and gotten their purple bars! I’m hoping I get a chance to read them. If When I finish with my own.

Word on the street is that “Alias” has been cancelled and will stop airing next May. Now, my show-cancelling and band-breaking-up powers may be legendary, but I’m not taking the blame for this one. I’m 99.9% sure I didn’t get Jennifer Garner pregnant. And I didn’t force Vaughn to leave the show, and I didn’t make J.J. Abrams get all distracted with “Lost.” But just to be safe, I’ll avoid watching “Lost” until it’s had a little bit more time and the first big backlash starts.

I can’t see getting all that upset about the show’s getting cancelled. I just got into it recently, but I could still tell that it was starting to wear out its welcome. And giving it until the end(-ish) of the season instead of yanking it immediately, gives them the chance to make a real close to it. According to the article, they’ve got something big planned.

In other news, here’s a fun fact: there are several cities called “Atlanta” in the US. The one in Idaho is apparently the one that’s having 30-degree highs all this week. Here in Georgia, it’s been around 60. Still chilly though! Or at least, I imagine it would be if I’d ever left my parents’ house. Skip wants me to go out with him for all the day-after-Thanksgiving sales, but I’m resistant. We’ve done that before, and the traffic is nuts and the crowds are unreasonable. And we never end up buying anything, somehow, even if we stay out the entire day. I think I’m doing my Christmas shopping online this year.

Did I mention before about how bad my NaNoWriMo thing is sucking? Because it bears repeating.

In my head, it’s a rollicking adventure story that ingeniously reinvents pop culture conventions and cliches, cleverly making light of the shallowness of these conventions while staying true to what’s great about these popular adventures and what makes them resonate.

In my Word document, it’s as if I were describing a television show I’d seen the night before, line for line, in my usual rambling with no sense of pacing, but I kept confusing it with comic books I’d read. I don’t know how real writers do it. It’s hard enough just getting the basics of plot to hold together into something workable; how is it possible to do that and add style to it?

But in the end, of course: so what. All the stuff I was saying about the process and learning and turning off the internal editor just to make something is just as true now as it was back when I believed it. The comment that’s always brought up to console writers — that every good writer has horrible first drafts and hardly anyone comes up with a masterwork at first go — is still true as well. And while it doesn’t guarantee that every crappy first draft has the potential for a work of genius, it does mean that a draft doesn’t really and truly suck until it’s published and released to the public.

I’m also realizing that I have no talent at all for segues. (Which until just recently I honestly thought was spelled “segueway,” but it’s not). So Happy Thanksgiving, everybody!

I watched the first disc of “Arrested Development” last night while failing to adjust to Eastern Daylight Time. Good show, as everybody knows by now, and it already made some of the later episodes funnier because of backwards references. It’s a little easier to see how daunting the continuity of the show was/is for attracting new viewers.

One thing that annoyed me, though: a “behind the scenes” documentary as an extra feature on the first disc. This is going to be seen as blasphemy by my peer group, but: sometimes I wish David Cross would just shut the hell up. The documentary has a bit where the other cast members all talk about how funny he is, and then a little while later they talk to him and he goes on this rant about how commercial television demands the show be 20 minutes so they can get 10 minutes of advertising into each episode.

Well that’s a damn shame, Dave. Just think how many more times you could do the same gay-guy-in-denial joke if you just had those extra 5-10 minutes. You know the one — it’s the one-note gimmick your entire “Arrested Development” character is based on, and the same joke you did about a dozen times in “Mr. Show.”

Yes, the guy is extremely funny. Or if he’s not, he at least knows really well how to get carried by genius-level funny people, because he’s been on two of the most brilliant shows ever. But he also comes across as being like the kid who’s gotten told by one too many adults that he’s “gifted.” The other people on the AD documentary are firm but gracious when they talk about the show and how it was handled; Cross goes on rants. And the only problem I have with that is that he’s in my opinion the least funny member of the ensemble — still funny, especially in the mole suit, but he stands out as too showy for a series where everyone else manages to be simultaneoulsy absurd and subtle.

Granted, it says a lot about the quality of “Arrested Development” that my biggest complaint is a member of the cast who’s extremely funny but too grand-standing. But when everybody else seems to have a healthier take on the situation, and he goes off on these predictable “Blame Fox!” and “Stupid Middle America!” type rants, he just comes across as obnoxious as the characters he did on “Mr. Show.”

I’m reporting live from suburban Atlanta, where I’m rethinking my earlier claim that nothing is colder than San Francisco weather. It’s 18 degrees right now. They’re predicting a high of 28 degrees tomorrow. I mean sure, the “snow and freezing rain” effect on the Apple Dashboard weather gadget is pretty cool, but eighteen degrees. I’ve gotta smoke in this weather.

Other than that, it’s nice to be home. I was feeling all morose before I flew out, but it seems like things are going to be okay. I had a three-hour delay at the airport yesterday, and I spent the time wandering around hearing news reports of torture and seeing three couples crying in absolute misery, presumably over having to separate. And I was reading the in-flight magazine with articles about Atlanta and feeling like a man without a country — I still don’t know San Francisco all that well, and reading the article made me realize I don’t even recognize Atlanta anymore. At the time, it all seemed monumentally depressing, but now it just seems normal.

It’s nostalgic here, too. In that I’m remembering the years using my Commodore 64 with its 300-bps Vicmodem. The wireless connection here is slooooow. I considered getting them a faster wireless router as a gift, but that’s selfish even by my standards. Could be a not-entirely-bad thing, though: I’ve been realizing that I don’t really know where all my wasted time goes, but I suspect that most of it’s due to the internets. I didn’t get much written on the plane, but maybe the rest of this week? I see Seppopodopolous has already gone over the mark — congrats to him!

And oh, hi! Disneyland was cool. I’m not posting any pictures since I could type more than a thousand words in the time it’d take me to upload them over this connection. It’s all a blur of beef and people and Christmas decorations and “Steve Holt!” at the moment, but I remember having a good time.

That’s the act of taking pleasure in someone else’s pratfalls and stepping on rakes and having buckets end up on their heads. Mac made it up. Use the word. Coin it. COIN IT!

I’m going to Disneyland! The Taskmaster is going to be at my apartment at the ass crack of dawn tomorrow so I’d best be getting to sleep. It’s stupid that I’d be looking forward to going as much as I am, considering how I was just down there last week and actually at the park not too long ago. But hey, I like the Disney. It’s what I do.