Abstraction in Video Games

 

    I would like to introduce this article by giving an update on my life, upon which I will expound more in a future blog post — feel free to skip the first three paragraphs if this is not to your interest. The long and short of it is that my life has been incredibly eventful over the past few months. I have been accepted into an executive role for my university's gamedev-focused org which, along with compounding academic responsibilities, have made for a hectic September (do you remember? our twenty-first night– anyway).

    Most fun of all is that I have gotten to participate in THREE game jams, two of which I took part with a team of developers. Prior I had never even made a game with full teams, let alone two of them! Again, I will talk about this in the aforementioned, all-encompassing life update blog. But if you're curious, you can play the three games I made here: (1) THE WORLD WILL EXPLODE IN 60 SECONDS!; (2) Balik Bayan; (3) DOG GOD. 

    Of relevance to this article, I have been dipping my toes in game studies and video game theory as of recent. I have read Raph Koster's A Theory of Fun (2013), which, though not rigorous (and certainly not academically exciting), proposed a fairly compelling notion of fun[1]. I have been reading the Game Studies journal, in particular the recent article by Boer and Montefiore (2026) about the ethical implications of slow play and speedrunning[2]. 

    Finally, and without further ado, I have also been reading The Video Game Theory Reader (2004), edited by Wolf and Perron. An article in this book, Wolf's Abstraction in the Video Game, explained how abstraction can appear in video games. It showed me how abstraction can be used to rejuvenate the status of games as modern art, and it gave me interesting ideas for 'abstract games' and how I can use abstraction in my work. 

 

    Wolf's Abstraction in the Video Game is the second article in Theory Reader. In his article, Wolf defines abstraction foremost. He says to abstract is to simplify things to their most essential forms. He compares and contrasts this to representation, or faithful reproduction of reality, which he propounds is now the more prominent visual mode of the video game. He notes,

"Most artwork falls in the spectrum between [abstraction and representation], since even very representational artwork usually falls short of fully reproducing its subject."

    Wolf proceeds to historicize video game abstraction. He insightfully connects early game abstraction to technological limitations. For example, Atari 2600 games had noticeable vertical symmetry because the slow microprocessor could not draw the full image in time. This necessitated most games to process only half the screen's worth of image and then merely duplicate or mirror it to complete the picture. Wolf also posits that the reason video games, at large, reject or steer away from abstraction (at least at the time of his article) is due to market demands for realism, and also due to developers wanting to explore the graphical boundaries of ever-developing technology.

    Extending Wolf's historical discussions, I am sad to admit that the direction which the gaming industry has taken regarding abstraction had stayed mostly the same since the two decades since this article's publishing. Even the indie game, which is presupposed by many to be the 'creative' fork of the industry, the space in which the most radically free game artists can and supposedly shall manifest, have still been carried by old conventions and dictated by market forces. Here and now, developers are deeply enmeshed in representation and a rejection of the abstract art form[4]. Even when gamers have latently rejected realism as the default graphical mode for video games[5], and even as developers and consumers look toward stylized representations over the years, these are nevertheless representations, and consumers still value accurate, recognizable, and empathetic representations.

    Abstraction still finds its place in art games and game jams[6]. The tight deadlines of game jams necessitate a great degree of abstraction in the submitted works, even if, as mentioned, they tend to fall on codified conventions. Meanwhile, art games, needless to say, utilize more of the medium's capabilities (particularly its interactivity) to create provoking experiences, as well as utilizing abstract imagery. Examples of abstract game jam works that I've enjoyed include the Tetris-inspired Accountris (2026), the arcade Throrbs (2026), and the endless game poem 10,000 rooms you could call home (2025). Meanwhile, examples of art games outside of game jams include a butterfly (2025), Daniel Linssen's Typing Challenge (2025), and THAT NIGHT, STEEPED BY BLOOD RIVER (2020).

A screenshot of 10,000 rooms you could call home.

     While we have a decent idea of what abstraction is and how it manifests in the video game, let us deepen our understanding of its nature. Wolf argues that because video games are both "video" (in that they are visual media) and "games" (in that they are interactive media), their abstraction can manifest in abstract imagery and behavior. I have mentioned games that fall somewhere along these two modes of abstraction: Accountris, Typing Challenge, and Throrbs feature abstract behavior unique to their games which, in turn, must be learned solely through play, while BLOOD RIVER, a butterfly, and 10,000 rooms use established mechanics (all of them could be thought of as 'walking simulators') but include abstract imagery which simplify, and in some cases misrepresent, for effect.

    Wolf's discussions on abstraction and video game elements gave me ideas on games I could (and might) make. For instance, he spends a great deal of time discussing the player-character, the difference between the implied (or invisible) and surrogate (or visible) player-character, and how the latter engenders player identification. This reminded me of Deltarune (2018) and how it handles the relationship between the avatar, the 'real' player-character, and the player. Furthermore, it made me think about how a game without a player-character might look like. Hypotheticals and rhetoricals ensured. How would such a character-less game be interactive? Would it even be a game?

     I then landed upon the game idea I find most interesting: an abstract game built on cryptic instructions. It works as such: a queue of shapes is present on the screen, with shapes being inserted over time or following certain conditions. Each of these shapes correspond to a specific instruction which the player does not know. Once a shape's (or a set of shapes') instructions are fulfilled, that shape (or set of shapes) will be cleared from the screen, moving the queue forward. Though there is an implied player character, there is nothing in the game that represents the player. And though there is the intrinsic goal of clearing the shapes, perhaps out of completionism or curiosity or score maximization, there is no extrinsic goal moving players forward. There aren't even letters or numbers, really. Just shapes, and you.

     Don't think too hard about what this game 'means'. As is the nature of abstract art, they often don't mean anything; they don't represent anything. Instead, they are often formal explorations of their medium, curiosities, or primal evokers of emotions via unique visual, to visceral, language. Theory is indeed valuable in this regard, because theory puts into words the natures of things, and abstraction deals with the simplest, most essential natures. And when theory tries to put into words the nature of a creative practice, practice can then didactically conceptualize and contend with theory, in much the same way that we 'test' our definitions upon forming them. Theory can thus shape practice, which, in turn, shapes theory.

    What's fascinating is that this concept of mine has sort of already been done by @applesinmypants's The Message From Deep Space (2026), a screenshot of which is the header image for this article. While TMFDS is definitely representational (it even tells a story), its gameplay loop deals in the realm of logic, math, and programming. The game forces players to reply to cryptic alien signals, the functions of which are learned through examining their involved input and output transmissions. Captivating the player through its writing and its new wave horror low-poly graphics, TMFDS is an example of how, at least behaviorally, games can engender abstract thinking from players. Although it is less 'artful' and more cognitively challenging, in line with the general design philosophy of games, TMFDS presents at the very least an interesting example of game systems being used in favor of their being abstract, of their being machinations of the mind, as opposed to against it. 

     TMFDS thus establishes my final supplementary point about Wolf's article as regards 'new possibilities' in abstraction in video games. Wolf rightly points out that, as opposed to representation, abstraction can result in "new gaming experiences and conventions." He notes, 

Abstraction’s role in the video game medium has changed over the years, from perceptual abstraction to conceptual abstraction, but it appears to be both a necessary and inevitable part of the video game-playing experience. 

    Let us not forget that games are abstract systems at their core. Abstraction is not just supplementary to representation, it is a core integral part of the gaming experience, and, if we want to actually achieve innovation in the space, that we must explore the still wondrous potentials of playing in the abstract. Over the years, we have created conventions and tropes in games that we still largely rely on to this day. Moreover, the gaming industry at large still responds to the market demands of realism, or at the very least a focus on representation, and a denial of image abstraction. Let us now try to look into these conventions, simplify them, capture their essences, add on top of them, and twist them in new ways.

 

 

[1] Koster propounds that fun is learning in the most abstract sense: gathering new data, especially in an environment without stakes. This is a simplified explanation, and the book warrants reading.

[2] I actually emailed Drs. Boer and Montefiore about their article, sharing some of thoughts, since I myself was a speedrunner! I once held three records in Papers, Please, and the game was used as an example in the Game Studies article. Check my speedrun.com profile here.

[3] Of course, in a certain sense, most programmers (and basically all hippie and techie programmers) of this era were indie developers creating indie games.  

[4] When we consider the formal system of games — that is, the 'actual game' of the video game — as something abstract, there then becomes a palpable disconnect, presently, between what the game can do (i.e., among other things, systematically represent), and what it does (i.e., try to look real). This is, as Wolf mentions, also quite the fault of the market, as even now, gamers all over Reddit and Twitter moan about the 'inaccurate water physics' in contemporary AAA games like Wolverine (2026). 

    Still, there have been developments in the abstract systems of games. The latest development in the abstract conventions of indie games that I can think of is Balatro's summation and multiplication scoring system, though still inspired by shedding card games like Deuces and dice games like Yahtzee, now nascently inspires the scoring systems of other games. 

[5] One will sometimes see or hear gamers espouse the confused sentiment "Art style over graphics!" What they might really mean is that they prefer stylized visuals over realistic visuals. The point is that both are representations, though sometimes a game 'with style' may represent abstract visuals.

[6] Game jams are events where developers create a game in a limited time frame.