The Game as a Canvas
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?
