When discussing the idea that objects possess an attractive quality, it's a good idea to try to define the properties of that quality. What is it that makes things beautiful? In humans, we seem to be drawn to elements of symmetry and muscle tone in structure, and beyond that, to refined senses of geographic culture -- what might be considered beautiful in Hungary might be different from what's beautiful in Japan. In architecture, we appreciate certain sweeps of line and form, and the presence of solidity. When it comes to utilitarian objects, we seem to lean toward organic shapes -- at least in recent years. We are all of us bound by our individual upbringing, and the experiences that shaped us. We can, of course, grow outside of our self- and outside-imposed shells to learn to appreciate the sensibilities of other cultures, but in many cases, our likes and dislikes are ingrained within our very sociological makeup.

This becomes an issue of interest when discussing video games. Artists and designers draw upon many sources to create characters, landscapes, vehicles, weapons, all the elements that combine to create the illusion of a living world. All of history's cultural iconography is available to be plundered for inspiration. A given era might need representation, in which case the artist must hew closer to a more rigid set of aesthetics, and within that set he must choose what to use, and what to discard. Or the task might be to create an atmosphere of some particular emotional state, which requires the designer to dig deeper into himself to evoke something more viscerally affective. Regardless of the exact goal, what's needed is the ability to work in the space between what might be personally fulfilling and what the audience will accept as genuine.

Unfortunately, the latter consideration cannot be predicted. In fact, there will probably always be some polarization at work -- it's impossible that one hundred percent of the game-playing audience will universally love every aspect of a game's appearance. A direction must be chosen and maintained, and in the end the reward must be the knowledge that one's best work was committed, regardless of acceptance or sales.

For a video game, beauty is what directly communicates the specific demand for action from the player. Everything that you see in a game is purposeful; there is never anything there accidentally. Each element had to have been approved and iterated upon for inclusion in the final product. Therefore, every element must work to get the player through the game. This might be as overt as the way that topology of the land guides you to a place where action will occur, or as subtle as the color and light cues that lead you toward or away from an area. This is the beauty of function, and it's the particular stress of people who design first person shooters, who know that a great map needs certain characteristics to be successful.