In a previous post I argued that humanity directly reflects the image of God when we engage in creative acts – when we bring something good into existence out of “nothing,” we are intentionally or unintentionally imitating the work of the ultimate Creator. This divine reflection reaches its apex when our art involves worldbuilding.
We find worldbuilding in visual mediums such as film, television, and graphic novels, but these are ultimately static worlds, and the audience members are passive participants. Worldbuilding in nonvisual literature is more dynamic, forcing the readers to actively visualize the world in their imaginations. Still, worldbuilding in video games is the closest parallel we have to the creativity of God.
Picture this: a brilliant Programmer designs a self-contained ‘reality’ in which other freewill agents (players) can interact. There are clear design parameters to this game world and limits to what the players can do within the world. That being said, the players can do anything they want within those parameters. Following the Programmer’s design, there are goals or intended ways of playing that lead to success in the game. Some players, despite taking diverse and individualized paths, seek to achieve these intended goals, and their creative ways of doing so may delight the programmer. Some players love the experience so much that they send fan mail to the Programmer and celebrate the good creation, even as they seek to exercise mastery within in.
Other players may ignore or violate the design and purpose of the game, resulting in mutual frustration for the Programmer and players. Perhaps the players grief and harass other players, try to undermine the integrity of the program itself, or otherwise violate the terms of service. Such players, if not willing to come around, may receive permanent bans from playing the game. Even if a fantastic new game update or expansion is released, the permabanned players will likely not be able to enjoy it. For all types of players, although experiencing the game world through their digital avatars, there is a clear sense that the players exist beyond the confines of the game world, that their consciousnesses will endure regardless of what ultimately happens to their in-game avatars.
Even the Programmer, preexisting the game world and being separate from it, can interact with the program on multiple levels, even through the use of an avatar (likely with certain advantages). The Programmer can interact with other players in a “meta” way, or in the game itself through the avatar. Having full knowledge of the game world, the Programmer’s actions serve as an example of how the game is meant to be played and what other players are truly capable of accomplishing. Regardless of the level of interaction chosen, the Programmer has the right and ability to change and suspend the rules and “physics” of the game world whenever desired, for whatever reason. God mode, anyone?
If any of this seems interesting to you, I highly recommend checking out The Hidden Reality: Parallel Universes and the Deep Laws of the Cosmos by Brian Greene (2011); the discussion of simulated universes in Chapter 10 is worth the price of admission alone.
Theology truly is a science, and theologians should act more like scientists. One problem is that theological theories have seldom been testable. Simulated worlds can change that. Interactive simulated worlds have the capability of being laboratories for testing philosophical, existential, ethical, and theological propositions in ways that have not been possible in generations past. This is especially true for simulated worlds that allow for emergent behavior or emergent gameplay, like Second Life, Minecraft, EVE Online, Dwarf Fortress, and other examples.
Are we not all players in the structured sandbox that God designed?