The idea that motion pictures can be works of art has been around since the 1920s, and it hasn't really been disputed since. It's easy to see why—cinema shares characteristics with theater in terms of acting, direction, music, set design, narrative, and so on. Now we have whole academic departments dedicated to film appreciation, to understanding the emotional and intellectual responses—deep feelings of awe and reverence, among others—that movies can elicit.
But video games aren't assumed to be as artistic as cinema or theater, if it all. In 2010, for instance, the late film critic Roger Ebert wrote an essay titled, "Video Games Can Never Be Art." But with the increasing sophistication, and variety, of video games today, it's becoming more and more clear that they are forms of art; or, at least, they evoke many of the same intellectual and emotional responses that artworks do. What's more, creating large-scale titles is like creating big-budget films or operas, since they require huge teams of people. An enormous amount of the cost of a big-budget video game is paid to people the industry classifies as "artists." (When their jobs have such titles as set and lighting design, music composition and performance, acting, animating, and painting, what else should we call them?)
There have been many arguments against views like Ebert's, and I won't rehash them here. But perhaps it's not enough to say, as the philosopher Aaron Smuts does, that video games are on equal artistic footing with any other so-called art. It might be that video games can actually do more as art than other forms.
I'm talking about guilt [nautil.us].