Something I’ve found difficult to reconcile lately is a sneaking suspicion that interactivity is not a source of emotion, in games or in real life. Rather, emotional responses come from reflection on past actions or anticipation of future actions, but action itself does not seem to spur emotion.

You may think I’m splitting hairs, but think about the most basic emotional response, fight-or-flight, one that is fairly universal in the animal kingdom. This is the basis for most “violence” oriented games (and action movies). The literal rush of adrenaline that underpins fight-or-flight is not a byproduct of actually fighting or flighting, rather it’s triggered by the anticipation of having to do either. Surprise is an emotional response that basically results from the fight-or-flight mechanism having to catch up with an action that’s already occured.

Sex, well, it’s even more basic and instinctive than fight-or-flight (or at least equal). As has often been stated, anticipation of sex contributes as much or more than the actual physical act itself to the emotional response. Sure, sexual “interaction” has plenty of rewards built-in that go hand-in-hand with the participants’ actions — (god that sounds dry and academic) — but most of the instantaneous ones are mechanical in nature and not necessarily emotionally driven. In other words, thinking about sex elicits the emotional response, having sex elicits the physical response.

That’s where movies (and most non-interactive art) have the leg up on games: they’re all reflection or anticipation, all the time. Because the audience does not have to actively make decisions they get to switch into a continual alternating cycle of reflection and anticipation. Those are the fundamental components of drama.

Games, on the other hand, necessitate breaking the reflection/anticipation cycle by needing to insert interaction at some point. The drama doesn’t come from the interaction itself, but rather from the bookends of the interaction: either reflecting on the actions you took (or their results), or anticipating the actions you (or others) will take (or their results). This is why drama is almost universally seen in only the cutscenes, or more broadly, the narritive parts of games; it’s the point where the game formally reflects on or anticipates past or future actions.

Of course, drama does occur at the meta level of the game. As a player, you have a train of thought and awareness that runs parallel to your avatar in the game. While the avatar is acting out mechanically in the game world, even as you actively control those actions, you are passively “experiencing” the game as would a non-participant. In other words, game players simultaneously participate in and act as audience for their games.

The misguided pursuit is the idea that we can create game mechanics or interactivity that is emotional. The common wisdom is that “innovation” will provide this one day. Of course, while most focus on innovation as new mechanics, I’ve previously made it clear that I don’t think our mechanics are necessarily the failure. It’s not the interaction that will spur the emotional response, it’s what the player does before and after that ineraction that will bring about the tears and laughs.

In other words, the reason most games have no significant emotional quality is the same reason that a bad movie lacks emotional quality: poorly developed or unsympathetic characters, poor pacing, stilted acting, etc… The reason games get away with it and movies do not is because movies rely on drama as a defining element, whereas games rely on interaction as a defining element. Emotions are just icing on the cake, like good photography or special effects in a movie.

So, in response to this recent post on game girl advance (Sex Games Should Make You Feel Sexy… Right?), I’d argue that we shouldn’t be worried about whether or not the mechanics in a sex game become unsexy. Honestly, the mechanics in real sex is pretty unsexy. The emotional response, the “sexy” feeling, comes from the context surrounding the mechanics, the anticipation of the act, and the reflection on the act the next morning.