Premiers to pixels: The discourse of cinema envy in 1990s videogame magazines

Abstract

This article explores the concept of cinema envy within the context of 1990s videogame magazines, identifying it as an understanding within gaming culture that videogames are not ‘serious’, ‘worthy’, or ‘artistic’ as film. The research aims to understand how cinema envy, as a discourse, has been discussed and used to justify the existence and value of videogames relative to film. Through an analysis of key videogame magazines published between 1990 and 1999, the study identifies three periods in the discourse, defined respectively by an initial enthusiasm for convergence with film (1990–1992), a reactionary phase prioritizing medium specificity and interactivity (1992–1996), and a more balanced perspective combining convergence with a critical reflection on interactivity (1996–1999). The findings indicate that attitudes towards the convergence of film and videogames fluctuated, reflecting broader technological and cultural shifts. The study concludes that cinema envy is not a monolithic formation, but an evolving discourse shaped by the interplay of technological advancements, media convergence, and the desire for cultural legitimacy in the videogame industry. This work highlights the role of videogame magazines in shaping gaming culture and establishing norms and standards for what constitutes a ‘good game’, considering cinematic influences and interactivity.

Introduction

In March 2024, composer Ludwig Göransson won the Academy Award for ‘Best Original Score’ for his work on Oppenheimer. During his acceptance speech, he thanked his parents for giving him ‘guitars and drum machines, instead of video games’ (Linton, 2024). Göransson later explained:

I remember when I was ten, the only thing I wanted was a Super Nintendo but my dad bought me a tape recorder. That was a pivotal moment in my career where I could either play videogames all day or make music (Yandoli, 2024).

These remarks angered videogame fans, who accused him of dismissing their favourite medium’s value (Switzer, 2024). Göransson’s comments, and the backlash they provoked, reflect a belief in the rivalry between film and videogames. While his words did not label videogames as ‘lesser media’, they struck a ‘particular sore spot, triggering a wave of nerd rage across the internet’ (Switzer, 2024, n. p.), revealing an inferiority complex within gaming culture – what I refer to as cinema envy. This term identifies the perception that videogames are not as ‘serious’, ‘worthy’, or ‘artistic’ as film. This article argues that the roots of this cinema envy can be traced back to the 1990s, and its development can be observed within videogame magazines which played a pivotal role in shaping the discourse around the relationship between film and videogames.

Cinema envy has seldom been explicitly addressed in academic literature (Jenkins, 2004, 2005; Knight, 2018; Zimmerman, 2002). Most literature on the intersection of film and videogames only indirectly discusses it through concepts like remediation (Bolter and Grusin, 1999), shared aesthetics (King and Krzywinska, 2002; Sell, 2021), adaptation (Brookey, 2011; Hutcheon and O’Flynn, 2013; Papazian and Sommers, 2013), convergence (Jenkins, 2006), or intertextuality (Ndalianis, 2004). Furthermore, these studies often consider the videogame-film nexus at a textual level, where cinema envy is expressed through extensive use of cutscenes and production of film-to-game adaptations. This article focuses on the paratextual instead, approaching cinema envy as a discursive formation within 1990s videogame magazines, a period when film and videogame convergence became most noticeable due to unprecedented technological developments. The article ultimately shows that during the 1990s cinema envy was not monolithic but oscillated between embracing media convergence and advocating for media specificity.

Theorizing cinema envy

In 2002, game designer and academic Eric Zimmerman discussed the possibility of genuinely independent videogames, highlighting economic, technological, and cultural tensions within the industry preventing their existence. One significant tension he identified is the relationship between film and videogames. Zimmerman isolated the argument that technological advances are allowing videogames to merge with film, resulting in higher levels of realism. On one hand, this ‘cinematic turn’ (Zimmerman, 2002: 5) was seen as enabling developers to use more expressive tools, attract new audiences, and ultimately surpass and replace cinema. On the other hand, critics argued that ‘games suffer from cinema envy’ (Zimmerman, 2002: 205), with realism in videogames being a derivative use of 3D technology, and believed videogames should develop separately, emphasizing their interactive properties. This tension reveals a contradiction: while videogames are perceived as immature for aping cinematic aesthetics, they are also seen as superior due to their interactivity and potential to surpass film.

Such tension was central to academic debates on media hybridity and specificity in videogame analysis during the 1990s and 2000s. Proponents of hybridity directly or indirectly argued that cinematic techniques enhanced videogames’ narrative potential and expressive power (Bolter and Grusin, 1999; Jenkins, 2004, 2005; King and Krzywynska, 2002; Ndalianis, 2004). Conversely, advocates of media specificity, including Espen Aarseth (2001), Markku Eskelinen (2001), and Alexander Galloway (2006), emphasized interactivity as the core feature distinguishing videogames from cinema’s supposedly passive experience. This debate, which within game studies circles became known as the ludology/narratology debate, revealed what Brendan Keogh (2014) describes as a purity complex in game studies, producing models that ‘reduce a heterogeneous cultural form and all its intricacies’ (3) to a singular system focused on interactivity. These models framed videogames as unique, defined by their ‘gameness’ and interactive freedom, with the ultimate videogame envisioned as one liberated from ‘old’ media influences. As Keogh (2014) explains, the argument was that ‘when technology allows us to leave behind the trappings of old media, then videogames will be truly special’ (3). This article builds on this discussion by examining how these debates predated academic circles, emerging in 1990s videogame magazines as influential tastemakers shaping gaming culture.

It is noteworthy to observe that the idea that the uniqueness of videogames is to be found in interactivity extends beyond game studies. Adaptation theorists Linda Hutcheon and Siobhan O’Flynn (2013) describe film-to-game adaptations as a shift from showing to interacting, while Scott Knight (2018) highlights unique formal-expressive qualities of videogames, such as their representation of space, temporal frames, mechanics, and environmental storytelling that afford exceptional experiences of interactivity. Kevin Flanagan (2017) and Steffan Hall (2011) similarly emphasize interactivity, with Hall (2011) noting its differentiation from film through both interface and temporal engagement. Steven Poole (2007) and Trevor Elkington (2009) critique film-to-game adaptations for prioritizing cinematic elements over interactivity, disrupting player control. Conversely, scholars argue that successful game-to-film adaptations recognize medium specificity, focussing on static exposition rather than replicating interactivity (Schulzke, 2013). Media and film scholars share similar sentiments. Daniel Golding (2013) questions whether videogames and films even share a strong enough history to be unified under the banner of ‘the moving image’, highlighting the participatory qualities of videogames compared to the assumed passivity of film. Research on the adoption of videogame aesthetics in film emphasizes how ‘videoludic’ films encourage active viewer participation, making the experience ‘more interactive’ than traditional cinema (Boszorád, 2020; Jenkins, 2007).

Film critics have also commented on the intersection of videogames and film, drawing fundamental distinctions. Roger Ebert (2010, 2007) famously argued that videogames are fundamentally different from cinema because the player’s role is central to the gaming experience, replacing the artist in the aesthetic hierarchy, thus making videogames not art. This argument, extensively discussed within game studies (Kaczmarski, 2021; Parker, 2018), aligns with the ludologist view that interactivity differentiates videogames from film (Bogost, 2017). However, while ludologists see interactivity as a defining strength, Ebert considered it a flaw preventing videogames from achieving art status. From this perspective, the use of cinematic techniques, professional voice acting, and motion capture of recognizable actors reflects attempts to attain the art status that some argue still eludes videogames (Morgan-Mueller, 2021).

While this literature review identifies two positions on the media-formal relationship between film and videogames, one advocating for a radical separation between the two media, with the other welcoming hybridity, ultimately both sides agree that videogames and film differ due to videogame’s interactive mode of engagement compared to film’s supposedly passive reception. Here, I do not take sides on media specificity or define the elusive term ‘interactivity’, which has been critiqued extensively (Keogh, 2014; Manovich, 2001). Instead, I explore these concepts to understand their role in the discourse of ‘cinema envy’. My contention is that this discourse emerged most decisively in the 1990s, driven by the convergence of film and media industries, and has grown stronger in recent years due to technological advances, increased audio-visual realism, and the incorporation of film grammar (Knight, 2018). This evolution underscores the perception of videogames as ‘more interactive’ than film or literature (Keogh, 2014).

From text to paratext

The literature on the intersection of film and videogames mainly focuses on textual and contextual levels, with limited attention to the paratextual level. Paratexts, as theorized by Gérard Genette (1997[1987]), refer to book elements like titles, prefaces, and chapter titles that frame and extend the main text. In game studies, paratexts have an expanded meaning (Švelch, 2020), inspired by Mia Consalvo’s (2007) work, and include cheat codes, guides, developer interviews, reviews, advertisements, YouTube ‘let’s play’ videos, Twitch streams, fan discussions (Consalvo, 2017), videogame trailers (Švelch, 2017), and player discussions following rule changes (Paul, 2010). Paratexts form a ‘semiotic environment’ (Gray, 2010: 173) significantly impacting the reception and interpretation of primary texts, especially in the synergistic marketing efforts of film and videogame producers across various media (Brookey, 2011; Gray, 2010; Jenkins, 2006; Kline et al., 2003).

The paratextual field is vast, with each form shaping how the main text is received. I will focus on 1990s videogame magazines, agreeing with Graeme Kirkpatrick (2015) and Benjamin Nicoll (2019) on their critical role in shaping videogame culture before the internet. Kirkpatrick (2015), influenced by Pierre Bourdieu, describes British videogame magazines of the 1980s as sites where people articulated the way they talked about computers, software, and videogames, establishing a ‘discursive territory’ (13) within which videogames became distinct objects requiring a ‘gamer habitus’ (22) for their appreciation. Nicoll (2019) similarly argues that magazines acted as tastemakers and community builders, as well as establishing a lexicon for discussing videogames separately from other media, shaping expectations and modulating affect through a determinate structure of feeling. For Nicoll (2019) ‘magazine articles and advertisements are useful not only for uncovering key historical details about particular videogames and platforms, but also for understanding how people perceived, used, and imagined these technologies in their historical contexts’ (30), as well as the associated affects.

I suggest that within 1990s magazines we find articulations of the discourse of cinema envy. Within magazines the delineation and separation of the videogame medium from film can be seen, as well as the justification of its existence, and it is possible to examine how they expressed the ways players thought about, perceived, and imagined ‘videogame’ as opposed to film.

Cinema envy as discursive formations

In approaching cinema envy as a discourse, I follow Michel Foucault (1972[1969]) for whom discourse means ‘a group of statements in so far as they belong to the same discursive formation; [discourse] is made up of a limited number of statements for which a group of conditions of existence can be defined’ (117). Discourses are systems of thought composed of ideas, attitudes, actions, beliefs, and practices that construct subjects and establish truth and knowledge. They determine how things are thought and how actions are performed accordingly. Discourses are not stable; they evolve and are internally unstable, being ‘the thing for which and by which there is struggle, discourse is the power which is to be seized’ (Foucault, 1981: 52–53). Within discourse, temporary crystallizations of relations, regularities, and patterns of signification can be seen, referred to as ‘discursive formations’ (Foucault, 1972[1969]: 37). Since discourses establish conditions of truth and knowledge, they involve power and discipline, not only repressively but also productively, by establishing rules of thought, behaviours, attitudes, and subjectivities.

I approach cinema envy as a discursive formation within the wider gaming discourse that establishes norms and knowledges within gaming culture. Following Kirkpatrick (2015) and Nicoll (2019), I view videogame magazines as a fundamental site where this discourse is articulated, serving as an important institutional source of power within videogame culture. I will focus on three genres found within videogame magazines, a choice dictated by matters of scope: news articles, reviews, and editorials.

The analysis covers all issues published between 1990 and 1999 for the following magazines: Computer and Video Games (CVG), Edge Magazine (E), Electronic Gaming Monthly (EGM), Computer Gaming World (CGW), Nintendo Power (NP), Next Generation (NG). CVG and E are British publications, while the others are American. These magazines were selected based on their reach and popularity amongst the gaming community. CVG and NP are specialized publications, covering solely computer games and Nintendo platforms, respectively, while the others covered most major platforms of the period. A total of 561 issues were analyzed to identify how the relationship between film and games was articulated and the types of knowledge and assumptions these articulations created or implied.

The analysis illustrates an unstable and inhomogeneous discourse during the 1990s, with convergence and media specificity both celebrated and decried by editorial staff. A historical development of this discourse can be observed, signalling different articulations of cinema envy, where certain knowledges become preponderant. I outline three discursive waves:

(1) 1990–1992: defined by great excitement and hope with regards to the convergence of film and videogames;

(2) 1992–1996: defined by reaction against pro-convergence sentiment, with media specificity becoming preponderant.

(3) 1996–1999: defined by a return to positions more sympathetic to media convergence and self-criticism.

Throughout all these periods, a technological theme runs deep.

First wave (1990–1992)

The first wave of cinema envy emerged during a period of rapid technological advancement in the early 1990s, when the introduction 16-bit consoles, such as the Sega Genesis, Super Nintendo, TurboGrafx-16 and CD-I, and improved graphics hardware enabled videogames to adopt filmic aesthetics more effectively than before. This era also coincided with a broader cultural fascination with multimedia and technological convergence.

Technological optimism

The beginning of the decade starts with a feeling of optimism and celebration for technological development, as apparent in many reviews. Reviewing Die Hard (1990) on CVG#99, Paul Rand (1990) lauds the graphics of the title, while also concluding by stating that ‘It’s just a pity that the main sprite and, indeed, the bloke on the box, look nothing like Bruce Willis at all’ (19). Reviewing Ghostbusters (1990) on CVG#106, Robert Swan (1990) writes that ‘The graphics are really good (each ‘buster looks like his movie counterpart) and the in-game music is nice, if a little inappropriate)’ (93). These quotes extracted from game reviews transpire a definite sense of ‘technological optimism’ and excitement regarding the development of audio-visual representation within the ludic medium. Reviewers highlight how closely film-to-game adaptations published in the early 1990s could replicate, or fail to replicate, cinematic visuals, and this focus betrays a desire for games to achieve a level of audio-visual fidelity comparable to film, identifying this as a marker of progress and technological advancement.

The sentiment towards convergence seems positive in this first period, as evidenced by these further quotes. Reviewing the Nintendo Entertainment System (NES) version of Batman (1989) on in EGM#9, Martin Alessi (1990) writes that ‘This game has amazing graphics and game play. Cinema display scenes are cool but could have been longer’ (10). Writing on CVG#110, Richard Leadbetter reviews the PC Engine version of Batman (1990) states that ‘Special mention must also go to the end-of-level animation sequences – they’re just totally gobsmacking, especially the film-quality batwing sequence!’(Leadbetter, 1991: 74).

The formal influence of cinema on videogames is here discussed in enthusiastic terms, with reviewers expressing a desire for more cinematic cutscenes. The convergence of film and videogames is presented as something enhancing the gaming experience, implying that integrating filmic qualities is both desirable and a sign of the ludic medium’s maturation.

Welcoming convergence and introducing ‘interactive movies’

In the early 1990s positive attitudes towards film-videogame convergence are found also in editorial columns and editorial choices. In CGW#78 Charles Ardai wrote a column titled ‘Popcorn Not Included’ welcoming the notion of ‘interactive movies’, a term that would become commonplace in magazines throughout the decade. Ardai (1991: 37) explains that:

From the start, computer games have aspired to a style and a degree of polish best described as ‘cinematic’. Only with today’s most sophisticated techniques are significant advances being made toward this goal. However, in adopting a cinematic mode, today’s games open themselves up to criticism on a cinematic level. It is not enough to achieve movie-quality software; one must also achieve quality movie-software. It is from this critical standpoint that we will consider the new generation of ‘Interactive Movies’ (37).

Reviewing RoboCop 3 (1991) on CGV#122, Paul Rand (1992) also refers to ‘Interactive Movie’, writing:

This is absolutely unbelievable! Ocean have come up with a product that can truly be called an interactive movie – certainly a far cry from their two earlier Robocop games which pale into nothingness compared to this. Graphically it’s incredible; a ridiculous amount of views allows the player to see what’s going on from almost every angle and, considering the amount of information on-screen, the frame update is extremely fast (85).

In these quotes, the term ‘interactive movie’ identifies a point of media convergence seen as desirable and enabled by technological development. This hybrid form is presented as combining the interactivity of videogames with the visual and narrative sophistication of film, seen as complementary rather than antithetical. Addressing and comparing videogames to film, additionally reflects an aspiration for videogames to gain recognition as a legitimate cultural and artistic medium worthy of critical acclaim.

In this early period, there was a celebration of graphical fidelity and cinematic qualities as sources of power in the Foucauldian sense. The discourse of cinema envy produces a techno-deterministic narrative, where technological progress equates to cultural and artistic value. At the same time, reviewers and journalists legitimized knowledge related to technological development, technical mastery, and artistic merit. Consequently, this discourse constructed the notion of a ‘good game’ as one that replicated cinematic qualities, with film seen as the benchmark of artistic achievement. Meanwhile, the player-reader is constructed as a technological connoisseur who appreciates and demands sophistication and cinematic qualities in games, while game developers are portrayed as agents of progress, harnessing technology to push the boundaries of what is possible in videogames.

Second wave (1992–1996)

The second wave occurred against a backdrop of increasing disillusion with the promises of CD-ROM technology, which often failed to deliver the cinematic experience promised by marketers. At the same time, the rise of full-motion video (FMV) games, which relied primarily on linear film sequences, provoked debates about the essence of videogames centred around interactivity.

CD-ROM and Techno-Disillusion

While the early 1990s were generally celebratory about the formal relationship between film and videogames, this sentiment will start to change around the early-to-mid decade, towards rally cries for media-specificity also associated with technological change and the mass adoption of CD-based media, especially CD-ROM. Describing the capabilities of the then-upcoming (but ultimately never released) Super Nintendo Entertainment Systems (SNES) CD-ROM add-on, which included being able to interface with over 500 megabytes of data, thus allowing for FMV and high-quality sound, NP#35 (1992) wrote:

So what will future Super NES CD-ROM games be like? For one thing, they’ll be more diverse than current games. Single-frame cinema scenes will probably be replaced by full-motion video. In games based on movies like RoboCop, you may see scenes from the movie played out. In fact, you may actually control one of the characters (71).

This connection between CD-ROM based videogames and film was taken as self-evident. In its ‘Industry News’ column CGW#24 (1992) wrote that ‘Naturally, when one thinks of CD-based entertainment, one thinks of computerized film footage. So, the first companies one would associate with CD-based entertainment would be those who are related through a corporate connection to the film studios’ (24). Some other voices were a bit more tepid towards CD-ROM. In a CGW article titled ‘Intermedia or Intermediated Technology?’, the CGW#108 (1993) staff wrote:

For years, the technological community has prophesised that CD-ROM and multi-media are ‘the next big thing’ that society always seems to be seeking. Now, the same prognosticators are saying that these technologies are basic tools for building the ultimate infrastructure. For gamers, the message is a mixed bag. It indicates that the connective games with proper bandwidth (better sound, video and response times) are closer than ever. Yet, the largely unsatisfying fulfilment of the old CD-ROM promises lead them to hold their expectations in reserve. We’ll have to wait and see if the potential connective games of the new technology can ever live up to their potential. Thus far, we cannot say this about CD-ROM games (113).

Writing the editorial for the same issue, Wilson (1993) echoes this sentiment, remaining sceptical about the future. He writes:

Just as many movies are made as special effects extravaganzas to draw in the matinee and drive-in crowd (an archaic form of theatre which once appealed primarily to teenagers who usually watched only part of the movies), there will be a tendency to develop technologies in search of a game (162)

NP#44 (1993) is seemingly sceptical even about this possibility. In an article titled ‘Future Technologies, Future Games’, the following statement is found:

The myth about the CD-ROM is that gamers will suddenly have a totally cinematic game play experience with unlimited interactivity. Even with the 500 megabytes of memory capacity, CD-ROMs can’t store enough video, audio and game play for that sort of game (14).

These quotes illustrate a shift compared to the celebratory and optimistic quotes indicated previously. The language reflects a sense of disappointment and scepticism, pointing towards a gap between technological development and gameplay experience. A hostility towards a focus on audio-visual quality at the expense of gameplay and interactivity is also noticeable, suggesting that while videogames may look and sound impressive, they lack something more fundamental. Finally, a type of disillusion with technological deterministic narratives can also be observed. The idea that CD-ROM will bring about the ‘totally cinematic gameplay experience’ is presented as a myth, contrasting with sentiments felt in the first wave.

FMV and the primacy of interactivity

This suspiciousness towards the cinematic reached its apogee during the mid-1990s when several FMV games, often referred to as ‘interactive movies’, were released on CD-ROM. FMV games, such as Night Trap (1992), Voyeur (1993), Phantasmagoria (1995) and Under a Killing Moon (1994) used pre-recorded video as their main means of storytelling. From a design perspective, most FMV games resemble point-and-click adventure videogames, with players making choices and performing actions at key moments, influencing the direction of the narrative. ¹ During the course of the 1990s, FMV cutscenes became widespread throughout various genres, whether as pre-recorded live-action scenes, as in the Wing Commander and Command & Conquer series, or as computer-generated imagery (CGI) scenes, as in Tomb Raider (1996) or Parasite Eve (1998).

FMV games will come to be reviled during the mid-1990s for their supposed lack of interactivity. But even E, one of the publications most critical of FMV games, was initially hopeful. In E#1 (1993) an article speaks in generally optimistic terms about FMV cutscenes seen in titles such as Voyeur, Conspiracy (1992) and The 7th Guest (1993), and even Night Trap, which will eventually become the go-to target of criticism when referring to FMV games: ‘FMV will never be a substitute for gameplay, but the evidence of pseudo-FMV titles like Night Trap suggest that it can certainly heighten the experience’ (18). The quote admits that FMV might be complementary to the gameplay experience and enrich it. However, the mention of ‘gameplay’ as an irreplaceable quality points towards a major discursive point in the historical development of cinema envy, namely that of interactivity as the media specific quality of videogames differentiating them from film. This argument is passionately expressed in E#3 (1993) where in an article exploring the impact of CD-ROM and FMV on the development of new genres, such as ‘interactive movies’, it is said:

Now, the big problem with interactive movies is ‘How the hell do you interact with them?’ If a game’s graphics are presented in the style of a film, with multiple angles, different points of view and fast cutting, it’s virtually impossible to devise a control method that would work (65).

A few months later, on E#6 (1994), in a feature article titled FMV, readers are educated about MPEG encoding and other technical aspects, as well as when readers might expect affordable systems allowing for real-time encoding and playback. The article concludes by stating:

By this time you will be looking at FMV as the replacement to VCR. The main advantages to the consumer will be a higher picture quality, instant access to any point in the disc, perfect freeze frame and less picture breakup as the disc gets old. But most importantly, it will provide the potential for full interactivity (53).

The assumption is that interactivity is the fundamental desire of player-readers and the essence of videogames, with better technology being the key to achieving this. The sentiment is still optimistic, however. Some reviewers were still able to celebrate the technical achievements of some ‘interactive movies’. Reviewing Quantum Gate (1993) in CGW#119, Ardai (1994) writes that ‘Quantum Gate is a quantum leap forward in computer, though not interactive, movie-making; but more than that, it is a hell of a good movie, period, with a story that sticks with you long after the final credits roll’ (104).

These quotes, reflect a discourse prioritizing interactivity, while ‘interactive movie’ is used sceptically (though not yet disparagingly). A lingering techno-determinist ethos is still palpable, expressed as a hope that better technology will eventually make possible ‘full interactivity’. The discourse around ‘interactive movies’ became subsequently quite abrasive in the following years as seen in an E review for Johnny Mnemonic (1995):

For some bizarre reason, the publisher, Sony Imagesoft, has had the insane honesty to call the game Johnny Mnemonic: The Interactive Action Movie. For all the gaming kudos that carries, it might as well have written ‘This game is rubbish’ all over the box. When will they learn? Movies were designed to be watched; games should be designed to be played (E#23, 1995: 71).

In a glossary of key terms within the gaming landscape, NG defines the ‘Hollywood Angle’ in the following manner:

A tragic offspring of the marriage of Hollywood and Silicon Valley is the ‘Hollywood Angle’. This is when developers, usually based in Hollywood and with Hollywood ideas of what is and is not good entertainment, set out to make a game that is more like a movie than a game. They are invariably about as interesting as watching home movies developed by game designers (that is, not at all), generally lack all but the most rudimentary interaction, and have no real gameplay to speak of (NG#15, 1996: 34).

David Hodgson begins his review of Psychic Detective (1995) in CVG#172 with the following words:

Over the past couple of years, there’s been a trickle of cheesy FMV ‘adventure’ titles trying desperately to excite punters with promises of ‘interactive movie experience’. The main problem that all of them suffer from is simple: they’re crap. Or more specifically, they’re full of second-rate acting, grainy video footage and linear gameplay (Hodgson, 1996: 44).

These caustic and aggressive quotes criticize ‘interactive movies’, and, by extension, media convergence, advocating instead for medium specificity to be found in interactivity. They signal a shift in discourse from excitement and techno-optimism to scepticism and techno-pessimism regarding CD-ROM and FMV technology. This shift reflects changing power/knowledge dynamics. Previously, technological advances were celebrated, and appreciation for cinematic spectacle in videogames was linked to a type of cultural capital, that is, the ‘true’ player as one who appreciates audio-visual spectacle. In the middle period, as technological limitations became apparent, the discourse shifted to prioritize gameplay and interactivity, reshaping the truth of videogames and the accepted knowledge within the gaming community. The player subject became one who discerned ‘true’ games from ‘false’ ones, valuing interactivity over superficial audio-visual gloss, the true player became knowledgeable and critical, able to distinguish genuine innovation from mere spectacle. In Foucauldian terms, this represents a new regime of truth within the gaming community, challenging earlier celebrations of technological advancements and reassessing the importance of media specificity. Discourse surrounding CD-ROM and FMV technologies in the mid-1990s points thus to a reassessment of the relationship between videogames and film, establishing new standards and expectations for what constitutes ‘a good game’ compared to the previous period.

Third wave (1996–1999)

The third wave of cinema envy coincided with the rise of the PlayStation and Nintendo 64, consoles that were able to deliver what was deemed a more cinematic experience. Blockbuster titles such as GoldenEye 007 (1997), Final Fantasy VII (FFVII) (1997), and Metal Gear Solid (MGS) (1998) were considered particularly successful in that regard. The third discursive period expresses a more balanced perspective and a re-opening towards media convergence, with major releases being celebrated for their cinematic qualities, while still emphasizing the importance of interactivity. Magazines appear to be more self-critical both with regards to past positions regarding convergence and media specificity and to contemporary understandings of what videogames are. Articles engaging in self-criticism reflect a maturing understanding of the interplay between videogames and film. At the same time, the underlying assumption is that videogames will, in due time, and with enough technological development, overtake film as a dominant cultural form.

Re-opening to media convergence

The re-openness towards convergence and towards cinematic influences in this period is noticeable especially in the coverage dedicated to titles like GoldenEye 007, FFVII and MGS. In NP#99 GoldenEye 007 is described using the following words: ‘From exciting, action-packed cinematic sequences to Monty Norman’s famous James Bond theme music, GoldenEye has all the elements to make you feel like you’re the leading man in a major motion picture’ (NP#99, 1997: 99). CVG#192 (1997) rated the game 5/5, adding: ‘Star in your own James Bond movie with the most enthralling, atmospheric and clever game for the N64. Move over Mario, the name’s Bond!’ (59). Coverage of FFVII appears even more enthusiastic. EGM#87 (1996) writes:

Every aspect of the game is also highly cinematic. Cut scenes send the camera zooming in on the party or panning across the landscape, so the game might be viewed from an overhead perspective one minute and a ground-level, heads-on view the next. Battles are watched from four switching camera angles, each panning and zooming to give the combat sequences a straight-from-a-movie-look (102-103).

The sentiment is echoed by E#51’s (1997) review:

The ‘interactive movie’ has long been a dirty term to anyone who values a playable videogame, but FFVII succeeds in coming closer than any title yet. The highly complex, melodramatic story and excellently orchestrated chip music really do combine to make players feel real empathy with the characters (85).

MGS is a third title highly praised for its cinematic quality in the same period. In John Davison’s (1998) editorial for EGM#110 the following quote is included:

Metal Gear Solid is certainly a turning point in gaming in this respect. Not only is it spectacular, its content (which will no doubt be lambasted by politicians) is unique in the mature ways that it tackles both the action and dialogue. Games have been developing in this direction for years with Final Fantasy VII and others (invariably Japanese or European titles) blazing the train into uncharted territory. MGS is more akin to an action movie in style… there’s no denying that it’s violent, but the subject matter and dialogue would be at home in a thriller, be it a novel or a movie (6).

In the same EGM issue, John Davison, Crisping Boyer and John Ricciardi (1998) write a special feature for the game, in which the following quote is included:

The story-arc over the course of this two disc product (yes, it’s going to be that big) is extremely intricate and contains numerous surprises that tie the previous products in the series together. At the same time it offers a near-cinematic experience that will quickly draw fans of action movies, spy thrillers and anything vaguely Tom Clancy-esque (113).

A further quote is also indicative: ‘Sexual innuendo doesn’t crop up too often in videogames, so it’s refreshing to see something that tackles dialogue like a movie rather than a game’ (114). The graphic design of the article is also noteworthy, with screenshots from MGS presented as if they were part of a film strip, complete with perforated edges, suggesting that each screenshot is akin to a frame from a reel of film.

In NG#48’s (1998a) review of MGS the following statement is included:

As you explore the base, you will encounter many people, from hostages to terrorists themselves. These encounters are portrayed in cinematic cut sequences that are played out using the game engine rather than FMV. What makes these scenes so exemplary is the fact that they are executed with competence and style. The stage direction would make John Woo proud, with a large number of slow-motion shots and odd camera angles. The voice acting is excellent as well – arguably the best in any game so far. All of these scenes tie together a storyline of epic proportions. What starts off as a simple mission soon becomes an entanglement of lies, betrayals, and personal vendettas. Hollywood could learn a thing or two from this game (119).

Overall, these quotes related to GoldenEye 007, FFVII, and MGS highlight a renewed appreciation for the cinematic aspects of videogames, emphasizing storytelling, visual presentation, and thematic maturity. This reflects a more nuanced understanding of convergence, acknowledging that cinematic elements are not necessarily antithetical to interactivity. The quotes also express a belief that they can enhance the overall experience and elevate the cultural status of videogames to that of Hollywood. MGS, in particular, is presented as an artifact surpassing film in ambition and scope, suggesting that media convergence may be desirable.

Self-criticism and reflection

These pro-convergence sentiments are further expressed in a series of articles published in 1998-1999 in E and NG that embark on a more wide-spanning reflection on the relation between videogames, film and other visual art forms. On the one hand, the techno-deterministic argument that better technology will bridge the audio-visual gap between film and videogames persists, while on the other hand there is an acknowledgement that this will not be enough if fidelity and interactivity is not able to replicate the affective depths experienced by film viewers. NG#48 (1998b) featured an article exploring game-to-film adaptations titled Do Videogames Stand a Chance in Hollywood? In it a significant quote is found:

Games are more realistic, immersive, and movielike than ever before. Consider the upcoming Final Fantasy VIII. Square is creating a game that owes much of its genius to the movies in its expressive camera angles, emotional plot development, and cutting-edge special effects. And the movie studios are noticing that gamer are demanding more games with the same qualities (89).

This quote demonstrates how cinematic qualities were not only celebrated as a technical achievement but also as a means of elevating videogames within culture at large. By linking the cinematic qualities of Final Fantasy VIII to artistic ‘genius’, the article also reflects a belief that cinema was a benchmark for games to achieve both legitimacy and emotional impact.

In NGLC2#2’s (1999) ² special feature titled Hooray for Hollywood some other noteworthy quotes are included. After looking back at the perceived failures of FMV and ‘interactive movies’, the author asks themselves whether ‘it’s worth taking a step back and asking again if there is something games can learn from Hollywood’ (96). The article suggests that videogames lack the emotional depth of film, and therefore are still perceived as a form of lowbrow amusement, partly due to a relative technological immaturity. The article concludes by stating

Games are evolving beyond our expectations. Developers are coming up against the limits of their skills and looking for answers. Public outrage at the nihilism evident in many games may even make a concession to morals and emotional content a must. And technology is slowly (so slowly) making the impossible possible. Interactive movies made gamers cry, but for all the wrong reasons. The next time you’re weeping over a console, it might just be for the very best ones (101).

Here a self-critical shift in the discourse of the late 1990s can be observed, moving aware from earlier celebrations of technological achievements towards a deeper reflection on the medium’s shortcomings. The acknowledgement of technological limitations, both in terms of interactivity and emotional impact indicates a period of re-evaluation. The emphasis on morals and emotional content suggests a growing awareness that cinematic qualities must be completed by thematic and narrative maturity to achieve cultural and artistic legitimacy

Finally, a special feature covering similar ground titled But Is It Art? Is found in E#79. The article compares the artistic status of videogames to that of other visual cultural forms. Taking realism ³ as the standard by which cultural forms are defined, the article states that ‘Video games are even more obsessed with the real than either art or film. Why is this? Most likely because they are a new cultural form. Video games lack the intellectual credibility of art, television and film’ (E#79, 1999: 67).

The article then moves towards a consideration of ‘interactivity’ as a fundamental formal quality of videogames and how this relates to questions of emotion and artistic legitimacy. A 1999 editorial in Edge magazine challenges the assumption that interactivity is exclusive to games, asking provocatively: ‘Does the term [interactivity] therefore suggest that other entertainment is somehow not interactive, that people simply sit back and receive films, books, music, art and television shows?’ (E#79, 1999:70). The piece argues that emotional response to other media, such as crying, laughing or feelings of awe, are profound forms of interaction, surpassing the purely physical and reactive or reflexive interactivity typical of gameplay. This critique stresses therefore the role of affect, noting that without emotional depth, interactivity is not necessarily a unique strength and may result in superficial engagement. At the same time, the article diagnoses what it calls a ‘collective cultural inferiority complex’ within videogame culture, suggesting that the medium’s push for realism and its desire to be seen as ‘interactive entertainment’ rather than simply ‘games’ reflects a yearning for validation (E#79, 1999: 70)

The article concludes by reflecting the implications of interactivity and the supposed lack of emotional depth of the videogame medium vis à vis its artistic status compared to that of other cultural forms: ‘Any other considerations – themes, morals, messages – are secondary at best’ (E#79, 1999: 71). This statement underscores a perceived hierarchy in which gameplay mechanics dominate, relegating narrative and emotional content to the margins. The implication is that unless videogames can ‘marry interaction with the whole range of emotions’ (E#71, 1999: 71), they risk being categorized alongside toys or sports rather than art.

This self-critical turn marks a significant development in the discourse of cinema envy, tempering the previous rigid support for media specificity, and identifies a tension between interactivity and emotional engagement. There is recognition of the value of film-videogame convergence, associated with cultural legitimacy and artistic recognition. While interactivity remains central to the videogame medium, this third discursive period expresses a more balanced viewpoint, considering the affordances and limitations of cinematic elements within videogames. Blockbuster titles are presented as successful examples of convergence, setting new standards and expectations for the gaming industry. Players, meanwhile, are positioned as more mature and discerning consumers, capable of appreciating both cinematic and ludic elements, recognizing how both contribute to the gaming experience on an emotional level. This implies a redefinition of the player subject, no longer just someone who consumes videogames, but someone who appreciates art. The player can also critically acknowledge the limitations of their preferred medium, preventing it from achieving widespread cultural and artistic recognition. This perspective frames the issue as one of technological limitation, suggesting that artistic recognition will follow once technology advances sufficiently, but also as an expressive one. In other words, videogames are still considered less than art, not only because of technical limitations but also because of expressive limitations by part of designers and developers who do not fully harness the potential of interactivity.

Conclusion

The analysis of 1990s videogame magazines reveals a complex and evolving discourse around the relationship between videogames and film, which I referred to as ‘cinema envy’. This discourse was characterized by shifting sentiments and varying degrees of enthusiasm and scepticism, reflecting broader cultural and technological developments within the gaming industry and media cultures, as well as opposing theoretical positions on media convergence and media specificity. This analysis of cinema envy as articulated in videogame magazines, reveals not only the evolving relationship between videogames and film but also the relevance of videogame magazines in shaping gaming culture and establishing parameters of what makes a ‘good game’. This is especially noteworthy, as it shows that debates that became prevalent within academia in the same period did not originate there. In other words, the debate around cinema envy happened beyond academic discourse and before it became prevalent within academia.

I identified three periods expressing different articulations of cinema envy. The first period (1990-1992) was defined by techno-optimism and an embrace of media convergence. Magazines celebrated cinematic influences, with reviews and articles highlighting advancements in graphics and sound, praising videogames that emulated cinema. The term ‘interactive movie’ was introduced with positive connotations. During this period, the player subject was constructed as someone who valued technological sophistication and celebrated technological advances. The second period (1992–1996) marked a discursive shift. Techno-pessimism aligned with recognizing the limitations of CD-ROM and FMV technologies, with ‘interactive movies’ becoming targets of criticism. Positive feelings about convergence were replaced by advocacy for media specificity found in interactivity, as opposed to the superficial visual spectacle of ‘interactive movies’. This period constructed the player subject as discerning and critical, valuing depth of interactivity over audio-visual quality and expecting genuine innovation rather than spectacle. In the third period (1996-1999), there was a renewed openness to convergence and a more balanced perspective that celebrated cinematic qualities while maintaining the primacy of interactivity. Major titles influenced by film were released, and magazines reflected on interactivity, art, and emotion, questioning the cultural role of videogames compared to film. However, a lingering technological deterministic narrative assumed that artistic recognition would follow adequate technological development. The player subject in this period was constructed as a sophisticated consumer who valued emotional engagement and artistic recognition. The analysis illustrated a shifting discourse throughout the 1990s, shaped by power and its associated knowledge within the gaming community regarding the relationship between film and videogames. This discourse developed alongside technological advancements, shaping how concrete technologies of the period were conceived. Throughout the three periods, different subject positions were constructed for players: technological enthusiasts, discerning critics, and sophisticated consumers. Overall, the discourse established norms and standards of what constitutes a ‘good game’ and the extent to which this is a function of cinematic influences.

A few observations can be made based on these findings. The development of the discourse of the relation of videogames to film resembles that of film in relation to theatre. Gundolf Freyermuth (2015) explains that early cinema drew on theatre for talent, content, and audio-visual form, much like videogames have done with film, and that film was often considered less ‘artistic’ than theatre. This is reflected in the articulation of cinema envy in the analyzed magazines appealing to artistic sensibilities. Film-videogame convergence, additionally, was not limited to formal qualities but also involved corporate convergence (Brookey, 2011), here too resembling the dynamics between theatre and cinema observed by Freyermuth (2015).

Secondly, and more importantly, themes discussed academically within game studies during the 1990s and early 2000s, encompassed within the ludology versus narratology debate, were not limited to academia nor did they originate there. Questions of media specificity, videogame ontology, and artistic status were broadly discussed within magazines, serving as privileged institutions wielding considerable power in establishing truth regimes within gaming culture.

Finally, if we consider videogames as a media hybrid ‘of technical, material, social, and economic facets’ (Bolter and Grusin, 1999: 77), then it must be acknowledged that they are not isolated artifacts but complex assemblages involving machines, discourses, modes of engagement, cultures, and structures of consumption and production. From this perspective, the historical development of videogames resembles that of other digital media, torn between techno-utopianism, where technology is seen as empowering and socially progressive, and techno-dystopianism, where it is viewed as alienating, oppressive, and spiritually corrupting (Dai and Hao, 2018). Both these positions are inherently techno-deterministic and can be mapped onto techno-optimism, which argues that new technologies advance and address previous shortcomings (Danaher, 2022), and techno-pessimism, which reflects disappointment and anxiety toward new technologies, often with nostalgia for earlier technologies (Marx, 1994). This split is evident in popular discussions of technologies such as dating apps, which are seen as both effective and alienating; virtual reality, considered both empowering and numbing; and generative artificial intelligence, viewed as both facilitating accessibility and unethical. Cinematic games are likewise conceptualized in similar moral dualist terms. On the one hand, techno-optimism is expressed by those who believe technology will close the gap between film and games with the eventual cultural recognition of the medium. On the other hand, techno-pessimism is expressed by those sceptical of this possibility, arguing that better technology does not effectively support ‘interactivity’ taken to be the essence of the medium.

Limitations and further research

This research is necessarily partial due to word limits, requiring selectiveness in the data presented. Consequently, I focused on editorial content written by magazine staff. This article does not include data on how cinema envy was articulated in other magazine genres, such as interviews with professionals (designers and publishers), readers’ mail, or advertisements. However, empirical data gathering revealed that cinema envy was extensively articulated within these other genres. Future research will present these findings to explore how different actors within gaming culture perceived and contributed to the discourse around cinema envy. Additional research might also examine how cinema envy developed in subsequent decades with the advent of newer technologies and gaming platforms. Finally, analyzing magazines beyond the Anglosphere could reveal interesting cultural symmetries or differences in the perception and conception of film and videogame convergence.