Text: Bogdan Bogdanov
Concept art: Cosmos Interactive

‍

Let’s be real — too often, we talk about video game visuals in technical terms. “How realistic is it?” “What’s the resolution?” “Does it have ray tracing?”

But when we strip everything down, what really sticks with us? What makes us remember a game?

It’s the feeling a game gives us. It’s that one shot, that color scheme, that moment when the art style perfectly syncs with the emotion the game is trying to evoke.

‍

A game’s art direction isn’t just decoration — it’s storytelling in its own right. It’s a mood. It’s an idea. It’s the moment when you step into a world, and instead of just looking at it, you feel it.

So, where does game design end and art begin? My answer: they’ve never been separate.

‍

Art as Storytelling

There’s this old-school way of thinking that says:

Game design = mechanics, rules, level structure, the way things work.
Game art = textures, lighting, animation, the way things look.

In reality, they’re the same thing.

‍

Every choice in a game’s visual direction directly affects the way we experience it. Art isn’t just a layer sitting on top of mechanics — it’s a fundamental part of how we interact with a game’s world.

‍
Journey – The Power of Visual Simplicity

Journey (2012) is an example of a game where visuals and gameplay are inseparable.

‍

You’re dropped into a massive desert, no instructions, no UI cluttering the screen. Just you and the sand. The colours shift as you progress — cool blues for quiet contemplation, fiery oranges for struggle, soft whites for transcendence. Even the camera angles reinforce the emotional beats of the game — at times making you feel small and lost, at others lifting you up in breathtaking wide shots of the sky.

‍

‍

Could Journey have worked with a more traditional UI, a dialogue-heavy script, or a map filled with waypoints? Maybe. But it would’ve lost its magic. One could argue that there is not much of a game in Journey, but it is definitely an experience.

‍

Hollow Knight – Hand-Drawn Despair

Totally different exmaple — Hollow Knight (2017).

At first glance, you might think, “Oh, it’s a cute little hand-drawn Metroidvania.” But once you actually start playing, the art direction hits you. The entire game is dripping in atmosphere — gloomy blues, haunting blacks, dimly flickering lights. Every part of Hallownest tells a story just through its visual decay — crumbled ruins, abandoned cities, infected husks. The enemies, with their sad, empty eyes, make the world feel even more tragic, reflecting the game’s lore about dying empire and decadence.

‍

This isn’t just a good-looking game. Its art is a core part of its storytelling. If it had gone for a more generic fantasy look, it wouldn’t have the same melancholic beauty. The visuals make Hallownest feel alive, decayed, and forgotten all at once.

‍

Gris — Emotion Through Visual Metaphor

A game that’s basically a moving painting about grief. The story is simple: a young woman navigating loss. But instead of dumping exposition on us, the game tells its story through visual symbolism. In the beginning, the world is gray and lifeless, reflecting the protagonist’s emotional numbness. As she heals, color returns to the world, each shade representing a different stage of grief. Movement itself is tied to emotion — she starts off barely able to walk, but as she grows, she gains new abilities.

‍

‍

This is where game design and art merge. The way we play Gris — the sluggish movement, the gradual opening of the world, the introduction of vibrant colors — is the narrative. The game never has to tell us what the protagonist is feeling. We just know, because we feel it through the way the game presents itself.

Now imagine if Gris had been a generic side-scroller with a more "realistic" look. Would it still have the same impact? Doubtful. The art direction isn’t just aesthetic — it’s the soul of the game.

‍

Style is a Choice

One of the biggest misconceptions in gaming is that more realism = better art. Big studios and AAA titles stay away from artistic style, showing off their ultrarealistic screenshots and rendering. However, realism isn’t always the best way to tell a story.

Some of the most striking games of the last decade reject realism in favour of something more stylised, more surreal, more emotionally driven.
‍

Take Disco Elysium (2019):

Its painterly, dreamlike art makes you feel like you’re constantly slipping in and out of reality — exactly what the protagonist is experiencing. The world is murky, washed-out, and fragmented, reflecting the main character’s alcohol-ravaged mind. If this game had gone for a clean, high-detail look? Would be a loss. The rough, brushstroke aesthetic makes it feel personal, like you’re wandering through the pages of a half-forgotten memory.
‍

Or look at Killer7 (2005):

The bold cel-shaded art style heightens the surreal, nightmarish tone of the game. Characters feel both exaggerated and unsettling, like something out of a fever dream. The lack of detail in some scenes forces you to focus on what is there — almost like a psychological trick, making the violence and paranoia hit even harder.
‍

Style is a choice. And when that choice is intentional, it can elevate a game.

Now, let’s be fair — high-budget AAA games can have great art direction. But too often, the industry gets caught in a loop of chasing realism over artistic intent.

We get hyper-detailed characters and lifelike environments… but they don’t say anything. Games spend years on technical improvements, but the actual visual storytelling often gets lost. Everything looks the same — because it’s all being designed with the same tech-driven priorities.

‍

There’s a reason why so many indie games stand out visually — they aren’t shackled by the need to be realistic. Instead, they focus on style, emotion, and meaning.

‍

So, here is my take on Art vs Design in games:

Art direction isn’t just about making things look pretty — it’s about mood, emotion, and storytelling.
The best games use visuals to deepen the experience, not just decorate it. Realism isn’t always the answer — sometimes, style and abstraction can tell a story far better than detail ever could.
‍
So let’s stop asking how good a game looks and start asking:

What is this game’s art trying to say?

‍

Text: Maxim Zhestkov
Cover: Viktor Antonov for Half-Life 2

‍

Twenty years ago, a groundbreaking game was released that would forever change the landscape of interactive technologies and visual communications: Half-Life 2. On February 16th, we lost Viktor Antonov, the visionary who helped create this masterpiece and showed the world that games could be so much more than what they were at the time.

I'd like to pay tribute to his work and share how this project transformed the lives of hundreds of millions of people, opening doors to new worlds.

‍

Turning Point

In the early 2000s, I was studying architecture, design, and painting. However, I always felt constrained and uninspired by the world I lived in and the future I was preparing for. My professors and fellow artists, having spent years in traditional media, viewed new technologies and disruptive ideas with hostility and skepticism. There was one student in the upper years known for working with computer graphics, but he was an exception, almost legendary. Eventually, he dropped out as the world of advertising and digital graphics exploded with opportunities, while the old system fought against these new trends.

‍

The bright visionaries and creative minds around me were studying their majors not out of passion, but because there seemed to be no alternative. Yet change was in the air. My peers spent most of their time playing games and exploring digital worlds, perceiving the realm of traditional architecture as narrow and limited by elitist scenarios.

Games at that time were largely influenced by tabletop games, filled with goblins, caves, knights, and space marines battling in epic conflicts. I understood why people with classical art education found it difficult to take this medium seriously, as it was pioneered by enthusiasts without formal training. However, I knew that in 30-40 years, there would be far more artists, architects, and space creators in digital universes than in physical reality.

‍

‍

‍

One of the greatest catalysts for change was the release of Half-Life 2. Everyone was talking about it; it was impossible to ignore. It didn't require an artificial life support system – it grew organically from within people. It was something new that was destined to change the world.

‍

People gathered information bit by bit, shared screenshots, and created their own interpretations of every element they could find. They would skip painting and design classes to discuss and share sketches of the concept artist's work in smoking areas.

‍

On the day of its release, the world stopped for me. I played the game non-stop, and at the end, a name appeared on the screen: Viktor Antonov. I didn't know who he was or much about Valve, but it was a turning point. It showed that architecture, art, graphics, painting, and sculpture could all converge in this incredible new nexus. It was a new experience, and I wanted nothing more than to translate my architectural thoughts into the language of games. I no longer wanted to create static works — I wanted to understand and explore how to approach this total installation that combined everything in entirely new ways.

‍

I began to study game development, realizing how complex and multifaceted it was. Although I couldn't create games myself, I had no doubt that this was the medium of the future. I embarked on my own journey, creating experimental short films and exploring the world of computer technology from my perspective.

‍

Intersection of Technologies and Art

Antonov created extraordinary content, blending architecture and object design from a mix of avant-garde paper architects of the 20th century. He drew inspiration from visionaries like Lebbeus Woods and Hugh Ferriss, whose futuristic and dystopian visions perfectly aligned with the game's aesthetic.

‍

‍

‍

‍

Instead of choosing a generic underground USA space base as the setting, he created a universe with a rich and vibrant language, placing the player in the heart of Eastern Europe.

‍

The game showcased objects and designs that were previously impossible in the gaming world, with a depth of world-building and foundation that immediately caught the attention of critics and aesthetes who had previously dismissed games.

‍

The medium is not always the message. Technologies created by computer enthusiasts, initially perceived as naive and comical, are difficult to project into the future. But as these technologies move beyond early adopters, they find new hands, and people create something entirely different on new aesthetic levels and contexts. This is exactly what happened with Valve.

‍

‍

‍

‍

Gabe Newell created an extraordinary company with numerous innovative approaches and concepts. Valve boasts the highest profit per employee in the world and was the first to believe in and implement digital content distribution through Steam — an idea that even Steve Jobs consulted on before launching the App Store. Valve believed that games have no boundaries — they are the final frontier of an artist's creative freedom. They invited someone with traditional education and understanding of visual art history to bring the power of the past into new technologies.

‍

Paving the Way

Twenty years later, Half-Life 2 remains a benchmark that continues to inspire. It has become a timeless classic. Just as matter accumulating in space becomes a sun, technologies have transcended their original purpose, gifting the world a new language of communication and a new art form.

‍

‍

‍

‍

Viktor Antonov didn't just bring something new; he brought the old into new technologies, igniting a new North Star in a world where art and technology merged. He described his process of finding visual solution in The House of The Dev podcast, and it is fascinating to see how all the inspiration unravels in his work.  He created multidimensional canvases where visual art, design, psychology, behaviorism, technology, music and computer graphics fused to create a new cosmos of possibilities.

‍

This, I believe, is the symbol of our time — teamwork where specialists bring their foundations from completely different areas and merge them.

‍

New art doesn't have a single, simple medium; it has many complementary aspects growing like a new tree from old, established roots. Only by respecting and unifying can we achieve something new through evolution, inevitably leading to systemic and qualitative changes.

Viktor Antonov's legacy in Half-Life 2 continues to inspire and challenge creators across various fields, reminding us of the boundless potential when art and technology converge.

‍

Text: Maxim Zhestkov
Concept art: Cosmos Interactive

‍

Games and interactive environments have always held a captivating allure for me, promising endless opportunities for exploration, immersion, and fresh perspectives. They transcend the boundaries of linear storytelling, offering entirely new ways to experience and relive events through ambient storytelling of the environment.

‍

This enduring fascination served as the spark for Modules, a VR project that ultimately led to the creation of Cosmos Interactive and our dedication to pushing the boundaries of interactive storytelling.

‍

Medium-Content problem

Interactive worlds, with their boundless possibilities, give a chance to involve the audience in the creative process, empowering them to make choices and navigate the environment. I never wanted to simply present to the audience a story with pre-defined boundaries and interpretations, but to give viewers the opportunity to explore the world and understand the story in their own way through pieces of the story left for them.

Another important aspect of interactive storytelling, for me, is capturing the spirit of the times through technology and using the medium as a conduit for that spirit.

‍

Drawing parallels to the philosophical "Mind-Body problem," which explores the primacy of thought and intention, I introduced the concept of a "Medium-Content problem" in the technological realm.

‍

It involves exploring how new technologies can be used to create content specifically tailored to the new tools, avoiding the repetition of old principles. While acknowledging the role of skeuomorphism and inheritance, I feel the importance of embracing the tool and using it to create something special and new.

‍

Creating art with immersive technologies

My fascination with VR began as soon as I heard about it, around 2010. It was boring for me to work with well-known mediums, because they already have an established framework of action and thinking. In contrast, VR presented a blank canvas, a realm of boundless possibilities and unexplored frontiers. Working in an environment without defined rules and conventions felt like discovering new continents.

‍

I was very lucky to have a guide to the world of interactive technologies - Viktor, a man who joined our company 5 years ago. Together, we made dozens of small experimental internal projects, before moving on to creating something complex and comprehensive.

‍

‍

‍

Modules started as simple experiments with space, and early tests with my wonderful team yielded unexpected results. Daniil, the architect on the project, developed and proposed innovative approaches that I hadn't anticipated, transforming the environment from simple cubes into carefully crafted compositions.

‍

This realization sparked a desire to create a complex experience that combined movement, sculpture, sound, architecture and boundless imagination. In Modules, all of these aspects amalgamated into one whole sensory experience.

‍

We didn't just make a VR project, we also made an app that users can play/perceive in the first person on a computer. It was a very important detail for me — to give the opportunity to step over just a VR experience and to give the game into the hands of even those who do not have VR. This was also an idea that was born during my conversations with the team, and this is the beauty of the process — you come up with an idea, even the craziest one, and in communication with the technical director, you understand the limitations and possibilities.

‍

Challenges along the way

The shift to VR demanded a new way of thinking about project development. Creating documentation and adopting a systematic approach became essential, fundamentally changing my understanding of my own interests. Immersing myself in literature and studying software development and its associated challenges became necessary. This marked my first experience with such a complex undertaking, which proved to be a valuable but challenging learning experience.

One of the key skills I developed during the Modules project was systematic thinking and the ability to envision and describe the final product after the experimental phase of the preproduction.

‍

I recognized the damaging potential of "feature creep," a cognitive trap where new ideas constantly emerge, making it difficult to stop adding features and burdening the project. Structured thinking and planning help to avoid this by understanding your expectations and requirements clearly.

‍

From the technical point of view, one of the most challenging aspects of the project was the goal of making it compatible with the Quest 2 VR headset. This required significant optimization, as maintaining a stable frame rate in VR is crucial to avoid lag and nausea, so we worked to find the perfect balance between graphic quality, textures, animations and performance.

‍

Becoming Cosmos

Modules had a profound impact on my creative vision and approach to art creation, as it was a benchmark for the level of immersion and complexity that I would like to tackle in my future projects.

It became clear that my future work should involve intricate team interactions and meticulous planning and documentation. I found comfort in these complexities, recognizing that they were essential for creating something truly ambitious. This approach allows for continuous learning, the identification of numerous problems, and the development of better, smarter, and more confident solutions.

The experience of creating Modules has shaped my plans for future projects. As we work on our first game The Great Filter with a team of around 20 people, and I am confident that this project would not have been possible without the experience gained from Modules and the lessons on the teamwork and structure learned there.

‍

Text: Matt Southern
Concept art: Cosmos Interactive

‍

I’ve been leading game development teams of all different sizes for 21 years now, and before that I taught on one of the world’s first Masters Degrees in game design and development. My enthusiasm for it remains undimmed, thanks in large part to Cosmos Interactive. I’ve been helping them for a few months now and I find their passion for making games in new ways is infectious.

‍

I love how together we have embraced the idea that interactive experiences still have a mass of untapped potential. I recently shared some thoughts about ‘play’ with Maxim Zhestkov after reading one of his posts here, and he asked me to share them here too.

‍

The first home computer my family owned was the Sinclair ZX Spectrum, and even at the time the graphics were pretty poor, especially compared to arcade games, or more expensive machines like the Commodore 64. But what players and creators of games for the Spectrum learned was that when it comes to games, the way they look matters, and the way they sound matters, but they’re not what matter most. Gameplay matters most.

‍

Ian Livingston, who co-created Fighting Fantasy, Games Workshop and Eidos, summed it up (I think it was in Edge Magazine):

‍

"When people ask me what are the three most important things in a computer game, I say gameplay, gameplay, gameplay." 

‍

But then I realised, it’s quite difficult to define what gameplay is, and it looked like many others found it difficult too. So I really dug into it. I wrote my Masters thesis about it. And I learned that you can't really understand what gameplay is without first understanding what play is.

‍

Play as a Primordial Force 

There is of course a school of thought and philosophy related to play. It's called ludology, the study of games and other forms of play. The subject has evolved rapidly over the last couple of decades and even though the games industry is often wary of scholars and academia and ‘theory’ over practice, I’ve genuinely found ludology to be inspirational when it comes to designing games.

‍

‍

Perhaps the most seminal ludology text is Homo Ludens by Dutch scholar Johan Huizinga. He described play as ‘an absolutely primary category of life’. Like the desire to eat or to reproduce, we have this innate desire to play, it is a core part of what we are, how we survive and evolve. He said ‘play is free’. For me that means you can't force someone to play, as soon as you do, that's work.

‍

He said play is not ‘ordinary’ or ‘real’ life, it's special, separate from the activities we regard as ordinary, real life. And he said true play cannot be connected with material interests, no profit can be gained from it. It is the pure and joyful act of playing.

‍

I love it! It resonates with my experience of playing computer and video games.

I really like the point he makes is that play existed even before we did — before all of human history, all of philosophy, all of civilization. We know this is true because we see animals playing, and they ‘have not waited for man to teach them’.

Playing is deep inside us, not just pre-existing all of storytelling, all of art, but a precondition to them existing in the first place. “The great archetypal activities of human society are all permeated with play from the start”. Language, myth, rituals, from ancient dancing around fires to the ritual of going to the cinema, all, as he says “..are rooted in the primaeval soil of play”.

‍

Video Games and Play

Of course, whilst Huizinga is right to say many animals play, it’s only humans who play games. We add rules, winners and losers, scoreboards, tournaments. These days, in video games, we also like to add storytelling, cinematics, amazing visuals, stunning audio, and more. The mix is potent, and hasn’t got close to the limits of its potential yet.

‍

I (and many others!) still like to encourage developers and designers to start with the verbs. Don’t worry initially about stories, settings, characters, lore, art style, technology. Those things are indeed important, but start by remembering what video games - all games - fundamentally are, and focus first on what the player is going to do.

‍

As kids and as adults, the way we truly understand and remember, the real way to move us at a deep, fundamental level, is not through reading, seeing, listening or writing, it is through doing. We know from ludology that play can be more powerful than words, sounds or images, because those things don’t exist without it.

‍

A lot of the seminal computer game designers from my early years, like Sid Meier, Peter Molyneux and Will Wright, had engineering backgrounds, and seemed to grasp this focus on ‘the verbs’.

‍

Thinking fundamentally and first about what players will do, over seconds, minutes and hours, before thinking about anything else. The way they developed games seemed in itself playful, not really like work at all, with a high degree of iteration, mistake-making and pleasure.

‍

I love the fact that Will Wright made a scrolling shooter, but realised the tool he’d made for generating cities was more fun than the game itself, so he turned it into ‘Sim City’. Fantastic.

‍

There are plenty more books and ideas in the ludology library that expand on the difference between play and playing games, but not enough space to talk about them here. Maybe that’s for another post in the future.

‍

What to read on the topic next

- Johan Huizinga 'Homo Ludens'
- Roger Caillois 'Man, Play and Games'
- Elliott Morton Avedon and Brian Sutton-Smith 'The Study of Games'

‍

Text: Maxim Zhestkov
Concept art: Cosmos Interactive

‍

We are witnessing a seismic shift in the media landscape that is altering the way we experience stories. From the primordial tradition of oral storytelling to the passive consumption of visual narratives on screens, we have now entered an era of action. Video games and interactive technologies are not merely introducing new forms of entertainment; they are forming a new language, a powerful tool that is redefining the very essence of how we convey experiences and emotions. This article explores the intricacies of this transition and its implications, drawing from personal experiences in the field.

‍

From narration to action: the new media paradigm

The evolution of media has followed a fascinating trajectory: from narration (spoken stories) to showing (cinema), and now to action (games and interactive experiences). This progression signifies a fundamental shift in how we perceive and engage with stories.In traditional linear forms of storytelling, such as literature or film, the audience experiences narratives through a process of empathetic connection with characters. We have relied on our innate capacity for empathy to vicariously experience the joys, sorrows, and fears of fictional characters, extracting valuable life lessons through observation. This model has served us well for millennia, allowing us to learn from the experiences of others without directly facing the associated risks.

‍

However, games have disrupted this long-standing formula in a profound way. By introducing interactivity, they have transformed the role of the audience from passive observers to active participants.

‍

In this new paradigm, it is no longer just the character experiencing emotions — we ourselves are immersed in the narrative. We don’t merely watch the story unfold from the sidelines; we become an integral part of it, shaping its course through our actions and decisions.

‍

This shift fundamentally alters the focus of media: it no longer simply “speaks” to us, but actively “engages” us. Our hands, our choices, and our actions become the key to understanding the setting, the world, and the unfolding events. This level of involvement creates a depth of immersion and emotional connection that was previously unattainable in traditional media forms.

‍

Action as immersion into the story

David Lynch once said, “If I could tell a story in words, I wouldn’t need to make a film.” This profound statement encapsulates the essence of interactive media, particularly video games. In this new medium, stories aren’t merely told or shown — they are experienced, felt and lived.

‍

A poignant example of this can be found in the game Inside. There’s a moment in the game where the player must extract a worm from a pig’s body. On the surface, this might seem like a trivial or even grotesque action. However, this single, interactive moment conveys more about the game’s setting, atmosphere, and underlying themes than pages of text ever could. It’s through this direct, tactile involvement that the player gains a visceral understanding of the game’s world.

‍

This approach to storytelling, while incredibly powerful, presents enormous challenges for creators. Crafting narratives that are told through actions is exponentially more complex than writing traditional linear stories.

‍

It requires a delicate balance and synchronization between various elements — gameplay mechanics, visual design, sound and narrative progression. This isn’t a script that can be written in isolation; it’s a new form of collaborative creation where every decision, from the smallest gameplay mechanic to the broadest story arc, impacts the final product.

‍

The power of this approach lies in its ability to engage players on a deeper, more primal level. By making the player an active participant in the story, games can evoke emotions and create memories that are far more vivid and lasting than those generated by passive media.

‍

The new scriptwriter

In my experience as a director in this evolving medium, it has become abundantly clear that the traditional concept of a script is rapidly becoming obsolete in the realm of interactive storytelling. The role of the game scriptwriter has transformed dramatically — they are not only wordsmiths crafting dialogue and descriptions on paper. Instead, they have become integral participants in a highly integrated and complex creative process.

‍

‍

In our team, we’ve developed a unique symbiosis between the game designer, narrative designer and myself as the director/creative director. This collaborative approach is essential because the creation of an interactive narrative is not a linear process. We work in parallel to develop the world, its history, environment, progression and the actions available to the player. Each team member brings a crucial perspective to the table:

‍

- The art director shapes the visual language of the game world, creating an environment that silently tells its own story.
- The game designer develops interaction mechanics that not only make the game enjoyable to play but also serve as vehicles for storytelling.
- The level designer creates spatial narratives, using the layout and progression of game environments to convey information and evoke emotions.

‍

All of these elements are inextricably linked, turning the process of game creation into an intricate balancing act. The game scriptwriter, in this context, becomes a sort of conductor or juggler, coordinating multiple ideas, methods, and creative inputs to create a cohesive, immersive experience of an interactive story.

‍

Unlike in traditional media, where the story can often be separated from its mode of delivery, in games, the two are inseparable. The story is not just told through cutscenes or dialogue, but through every action the player takes, every choice they make, and every consequence they face.

‍

Conveying emotions and ideas through non-verbal means

At the heart of all these creative efforts lies a simple yet profound goal: to evoke genuine emotions. The virtual worlds we create serve as vessels to transport players into new realities, allowing them to feel and experience things beyond their everyday lives.

‍

A key realization in my work has been understanding that interactive media connects with the most primitive and fundamental levels of human cognition. In our pre-linguistic past, humans primarily understood the world through actions and consequences rather than words.

‍

Games, in a sense, return us to this primal mode of learning and understanding, but with the added complexity and richness of modern narrative techniques.

‍

By bypassing verbal constructs and directly engaging players through action, games can communicate ideas and emotions in ways that other media cannot. This is what makes interactive storytelling so challenging, yet so magical. We’re not just asking players to watch or listen to a story— we’re asking them to live it, to make it their own through their choices and actions.

‍

This approach to storytelling has the potential to create experiences that are not only entertaining but also deeply meaningful and potentially transformative. By immersing players in carefully crafted worlds and scenarios, games can provide safe spaces for exploring complex ideas, emotions, and ethical dilemmas.

‍

Game as a universal medium

As we look to the future of interactive media, the possibilities are both exciting and boundless. I envision games evolving into a tool for complete immersion, where every element — from the environment to the mechanics, from the visual design to the sound — works in harmony to create a deeply emotional and personalized experience.

‍

The rapid advancement of technologies such as Virtual Reality (VR) and Artificial Intelligence (AI) is already pushing the boundaries of what’s possible in game design. Imagine a world that dynamically responds to player actions, where the scenario and environment adapt in real-time to the player’s choices, creating a truly unique experience for each individual.

‍

This level of personalization and responsiveness could revolutionize not just entertainment, but education, therapy, and even social interaction. Games could become powerful tools for teaching empathy, exploring complex social issues, or providing safe spaces for personal growth and healing.

‍

Moreover, the skills and perspectives gained through interactive storytelling are increasingly relevant in our rapidly changing world. The ability to navigate complex systems, make decisions with incomplete information, and understand the consequences of our actions are all skills that games naturally foster. In this future, the line between ‘games’ and other forms of media may blur significantly. We may see the emergence of new hybrid forms of interactive storytelling that combine elements of games, film, literature, and even live performance. These new forms could offer unprecedented levels of immersion and emotional engagement, pushing the boundaries of what we currently consider possible in storytelling.

‍

Conclusion: the magic of a new language

As we stand on the brink of this new era in media, it’s clear that games represent far more than just a new form of entertainment. They are, in essence, a new language — a revolutionary means of communication where action becomes more important as words.

‍

This new language is still in its infancy. We are only beginning to understand its grammar and syntax, its potential and its limitations. As creators in this field, we have a responsibility to push beyond the stereotypes and conventions of the past, to seek out new expressive means and to explore the full potential of this interactive medium.

‍

As we continue to develop and refine this new language of interactive storytelling, we stand at the threshold of a new frontier in human expression and experience. The journey ahead is filled with challenges, but also with unprecedented opportunities to connect, to teach, to learn, and to inspire. In the end, this may be the most profound promise of games as a medium — not just to tell stories, but to help us understand and shape our own.

‍

Text: Maxim Zhestkov
Concept art: Cosmos Interactive

‍

Introduction

For the past two decades, I’ve been immersed in the world of art films and short film directing, where I was the author of all aspects of production. I was always passionate about diving into fantasies and creating something that begins in imagination, transitions to sketches and culminates in spatial constructs. As my work has always been an odd mix of architecture, sculpture, music and animation, I did it for myself to learn something and find new ways of expression. I applied this approach of searching through making to new software tools as well.  

‍

This way of trial and error can lead to deep insights — but it can also become a long way to a place where other people have been before and told about it.

‍

Four years ago, my journey into game development began, and it has been an intoxicating experience filled with complexities and challenges. This has been a journey filled with many twists and turns, and I would love to share them with — both to tell about something I already learned and to understand something deeper by explaining it, as great Richard Feynman taught.

‍

This article is the first in a series, and it is an overview of my path from linear processes of film production to a multidimensional tesseract of game development.

‍

Linear Creativity vs. Multidimensional Systems

In my previous work with art films and installations, the creative process was largely sequential. You start with an idea, move to sketches and studies, translate it into 3D language, work on lighting and animation, and finally engage in editing and finalization. The process was pretty predictable, and even having collaborators, it felt “flat” and directional, like moving along a conveyor belt.

‍

As an example — in my film Elements, I started with sketches, created 3D architectural spaces, experimented with particle simulations, then moved to camera work, material settings, and lighting — one stage at a time, each taking days. There is a lot of space for experimentation in this process, like in working with unpredictability of simulations and looking for wonder of system dynamics in them. Still, the entire process of a film creation is a chain of stages that come one after another.

‍

‍

‍

‍

This linear progression is in stark contrast to the real-time engines of game development, where you can always change everything, creating a dance between stages in the very process of creation. Everything becomes an interconnected system, highly mobile and rapidly changing.
All processes happen simultaneously. You might work on animation, and its character begins to suggest the dynamics of a scene. Parallel work with artists on lighting creates additional relationships with texture and character dynamics.

‍

Complexity of Game Development

When I first ventured into game development, I naively thought I could approach it as I did my previous projects — going by intuition, creating frames, ideas, and thoughts, and then putting it all together with a team. However, I quickly hit a wall. The realization that my familiar patterns of creation, which I had used for decades, had little in common with this new world was incredibly painful.

But it was precisely this new world that I wanted to be a part of. I love encountering complexity and finding ways to solve it. One of the answers turned out to be logic and clear documentation. Moving away from pure intuition in the process, creating a moment for intuition and flight of thought, and then putting everything on the rails of production.

‍

We have a joke that there are two states — Cosmos & Chaos — and we constantly try to bring all processes to the state of Cosmos — a perfect structure, complete order.

‍

We have people working on the tech part, dealing with huge arrays of particles and elements, while in parallel we work on the script and lore of the story. Information from these separate flasks penetrates each other — elements from technological experiments find their way into the lore and plot, while work on technologies acquires parts of the logic and settings that are prescribed with the writer. This is why keeping all the information accessible is crucial, and we do work every day on perfecting our processes.

‍

It is also important to have a team who challenge each idea and test its strength against the overall concept. The elegance of the whole should not be disrupted by individual details and small thoughts that come during the process.

‍

Lessons and Conclusions

The complexity I’ve encountered in game development is unlike anything I’ve experienced before, but it’s precisely this complexity that brings something unimaginable in other mediums. It feels like I’ve found my boss-level challenge and am in a dance of learning and developing new mental tools and modes.

‍

For creative people planning to transition from linear projects to game development, I would emphasise the importance of challenging yourself and confronting new and big challenges. For me, it’s like moving from 2D to 3D — the dynamics in which we entrust a person perceiving and acting within the system gives completely new horizons, making the process and result something akin to experimental psychology of perception.

‍

I see games as a new and crucial form of expression and an amalgamation of all the disciplines that interest me. In a sense, it’s the final point of fusion of different aspects of art. All my life, I’ve been looking for tools for fantasies, and with each passing day, I’m more convinced that the final canvas and tools have been found.

‍

Conclusion

Game development, to me, represents not just a new medium, but the ultimate cosmos of communication possibilities. We’re at the very beginning of this journey, with countless planets, systems, and galaxies yet to be discovered in this cosmos of interactive development. Games are not just games; they are the final frontier of communication possibilities.

‍

As we move forward in this series of articles, we’ll continue to explore the intricate dance of technology, art, and human perception that makes game development such a fascinating field. In our next article, we’ll dive deeper into the specific challenges of managing multidisciplinary teams in game development projects. The journey from linear creativity to the multidimensional cosmos of game development is challenging, but infinitely rewarding. It’s a testament to the ever-evolving nature of art and technology, and a glimpse into the future of human creativity and expression.

‍

At Cosmos Interactive, we are a team of imaginative and eclectic individuals from diverse backgrounds, each bringing a unique perspective and skillset to the table.

From architecture and design to art and technology, our team is united by a passion for creating immersive digital worlds that are full of love, wonder, and imagination.At the heart of our process is collaboration – bringing our individual strengths and perspectives together to create something truly remarkable.

As we embark on this journey, our goal is to unlock the mysteries of creation, allowing reality to unfold before our very eyes.With our combined expertise and creativity, we aim to create digital worlds that are as detailed, engaging and immersive as reality itself.

We believe that the game is a powerful tool for storytelling, allowing users to explore limitless possibilities and explore their own creativity.That's why we strive to create digital worlds that are not just entertaining but also inspiring, capturing the imagination and leaving a lasting impact on those who engage with them.

So join us on this journey of discovery, where the power of collaboration meets the beauty of the game.

‍