Has the Battle for Gaming Visuals Reached Its Limit?

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Contemporary video games are more visually stunning than ever before. During last month’s Game Awards, cinematic trailers revealed games with breathtaking graphics. One such title was Intergalactic: The Heretic Prophet, developed by The Last of Us makers Naughty Dog, whose clever protagonist was animated with such meticulous detail that she expressed more through her face than spoken words. Another featured title was The Witcher 4, the follow-up to the acclaimed fantasy saga, where equal creative focus was placed on the fur of a monster’s six grotesque arms as well as on the soft glow of firelight on the hero’s visage.

Everything looks undeniably magnificent. Nevertheless, a casual observer might easily mistake the visuals of these games for others released five, or even—if one squints a bit—ten years ago. What once was a medium where each console generation brought about a revolutionary change in visual quality, today video gaming is nearing a graphical plateau. One could persuasively assert that Red Dead Redemption 2 or Cyberpunk 2077, released in 2018 and 2020 respectively, are the most visually impressive games available. So when yearly graphical advancements seem minimal at best, has the time finally come to surrender the graphical arms race?

Those who reminisce about the transition from 8-bit to 16-bit graphics or from 2D to 3D will remember the exhilaration as entirely new avenues for adventure and narrative unfolded before them. However, as technology progressed, enhancing graphics has become increasingly a case of diminishing returns, necessitating exponentially more resources for only slight improvements. The advancements in the latest console generation have been the least significant to date. Technical enhancements like elevated frame rates and ray-tracing lighting effects are cherished by dedicated gamers—the target audience for Sony’s new PS5 Pro console, which offers marginal upgrades at a hefty £700 cost—but these notions hold little significance for the broader gaming public. As former US PlayStation leader Shawn Layden noted: “We’re at the stage of hardware development that I call ‘Only dogs can hear the difference.’”

In the meantime, for game developers, a perceived need for more visually remarkable games heightens the pressure on an industry already battling high-profile layoffs, frequent project cancellations, and an omnipresent culture of overwork. In a leaked memo from Insomniac, the studio behind the recent Spider-Man PlayStation series, one developer questioned whether the budget for Spider-Man 2, which amounted to $300mn as opposed to the first title’s $100mn, was a judicious use of funds: “Is three times the investment clear to anyone who plays the game?” It certainly didn’t lead to triple the sales. In fact, there is scant evidence that superior graphics yield greater profits. Titles like Minecraft and Roblox, two of the most profitable game franchises globally, appear as if they could have been created 25 years ago. They are cherished for their design and communities, not their visuals.

Developers may take a cue from Nintendo, which opted years ago not to compete in the hardware race, instead emphasizing inventive design and the pursuit of pure enjoyment. This decision has proven beneficial for sales—the Switch has outsold its more powerful competitors, the PlayStation 4 and Xbox One. Nintendo also demonstrates that games operating on less powerful systems can still look breathtaking. Anyone who has played The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild can attest that, despite its low-resolution textures, it remains one of the most visually captivating games to date.

The intensely imaginative realm of indie games further illustrates that it’s the artistic style, not merely graphical capabilities, that determines a game’s beauty. Titles such as Journey, Cuphead, Monument Valley, and the Ori series have made significant impacts on gaming culture, primarily due to their extraordinary artistic direction. In just the past year, remarkable new indie games have emerged, including the painterly Neva, the perfect recreation of Saturday morning cartoons in Blud, and striking titles that look as though they are crafted entirely from paper and Plasticine.

Amid the numerous major announcements at the Game Awards, one moved presenter Geoff Keighley to tears during his introduction. It wasn’t a flashy shooter, but rather an unanticipated sequel to Okami, a cherished 2006 title where players embody the Shinto goddess Amaterasu in wolf form, weaving through Japanese folklore tales. It’s designed to resemble an animated sumi-e ink-wash painting, and is rightly celebrated as one of the most beautifully crafted games ever developed. That the original has aged so well is entirely attributed to the artistic decisions taken by its design team, not the technical aspects of the now-antiquated PlayStation 2. It proves that games can continue to become more visually appealing, achieved through human creativity, rather than through minimal enhancements to processing capacity.