Resident Evil Proves that Games Do Not Need Generative A.I.

Resident Evil Proves that Games Do Not Need Generative A.I.

It’s not often that a game gags me. Plenty wow me, excite me, tickle some part of my brain enough that I’m compelled to keep playing, but few have caused me to pause and think “Ah, so this is why an entire series was born.” So believe me when I say that Resident Evil has impressed more than expected as I’ve checked it out for the first time ever. 

While there are several bits of the original Resident Evil (or, more accurately, the 2015 HD remaster of it that was on sale for $5 through PlayStation) that I want to write about, A) I have not finished it yet and am almost three decades late to this party, so there’s a high chance some of my observations have been said many times before, and B) there is currently one aspect that is screaming to be discussed above the rest, one that is only further accentuated by the march towards A.I. ubiquity that so many execs are working to normalize. That is this game’s overwhelming intent. While games are made by people and, presumably, always have a goal in mind for how they want you to feel or think while playing, it’s infrequent even today for a game to enforce its artistic vision on players this much. 

And this force of will does not manifest in terms of difficulty or amount of weapons or a number going up. It’s in terms of camera shots that seem to be situated at the scariest angles possible. It’s in terms of tank controls that ensure the player can’t move the camera, allowing the original creators to choose how the mansion setting will scare you and accentuate how little control you have over the entire zombie situation. It’s in term of save items that—while sometimes a nuisance given I am a growing adult, with the occasional adult emergency, and would appreciate being able to save at a moment’s notice—undeniably create a sense of urgency and fear of progress loss that fits right in with the nightmare Jill and Chris have found themselves in. It’s in terms of a game that understands the unique dissonances created by using some of cinema’s visual language but with a distinct gaming sensibility. Overall, the game always feels deliberately built by human hands and I love that. 

This growing love is having the side effect of cementing my utter disinterest in seeing generative A.I. in games. I already had problems with seeing big tech’s latest “sell first, think and maybe improve later” product being shoved into the medium. It’s unsettling to see a tool that frequently replaces workers become the new hot thing in an industry that can’t go a week without bleeding its talent. The promise of more productivity has already led to blunders in areas ranging from localization to promotional material to Darth Vader dropping slurs for a short time. And while speeding up the development process with generative A.I. to address the industry’s sustainability crisis is certainly a choice, one that some outlets identified as having varying levels of buy-in at this year’s Gamescom, it’s clear that many workers (and players) aren’t a fan and feel like it’s being forced on them

Plus, it just feels odd that some people’s answer to saving the industry was A.I. rather than, say, big publishers funding more games so small teams don’t feel pressured to rush outputs before their shoestring budgets dry up; shortening the canyon-sized compensation gap between execs and workers so some of that money could go back into development time; or putting eggs in multiple baskets generally so that the singular AAAAAAAA… basket doesn’t need miracle returns to avoid studio closures. 

But even if it weren’t for all this, my fundamental issue with generative A.I. in games is it’s at odds with the kind of intent that Resident Evil oozes. At its core, generative A.I. is a pattern recognizer—a very good one that feels less dreadful when I dare to imagine a future where it’s heavily regulated, less dangerous to the climate, and sticks to the handful of areas where it could make a positive impact like drug discovery—that offers the illusion of intent-driven work, but ultimately delivers a reality of weakened creative muscles, safe bets, and less humanity. As Game Informer put it in its March 1996 issue, Resident Evil felt like Capcom’s “most innovative title to date,” taking what it saw from the Alone In The Dark series and cranking it up to something uniquely horrific and unforgettable. It’s a game full of inspiration that evidently wants to move a genre and a medium forward, and generative A.I. currently feels like it’s holding things back.

Despite the intimate relationship games and tech have, as games are one of the easier ways to conceptualize hardware innovation due to the visual elements of the medium, tech alone does not make a game good. The people who decide to tackle the miracle that is creating a game, the many pivots and pitfalls along the road to a creative vision, and the unique experiences each person brings to that laborious adventure is what makes good games. Relying on a tool that foundationally aims to create the familiar, that is built to react and replicate trends in a system run by execs catastrophically addicted to trend chasing, will only distract from the original elements that gets players to remember a game as itself—and not just a copy of someone else’s idea.


Wallace Truesdale is a journalist who loves games and much of what they come into contact with. He’s written for Unwinnable, Stop Caring, PopMatters, and more. When he’s not ruining himself with sweets, you can find him blogging at Exalclaw, or hanging out on Bluesky and Twitch.

 
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