Whether via the lamentable trend of gamification or through the very public release of Jane McGonigal's new book, the topic of videogames' impact on the real world has been front-and-center of late.
Enter iCapitalism, an iOS game that critiques both capitalism and iOS games through a simple design.
As in Godville, there's no gameplay. But unlike that game (which actually sells gameplay energy in earnest), iCapitalism is driven entirely by microtransactions. When you make purchases in the game, you rise on the leaderboard. Players are allowed to post a message on the leaderboard, so the most free of wallet also get their message heard, at least within the context of iCapitalism.
Given my accidental commitment to gameplay-free games, I'm fascinated by concepts like this one. As casual mobile and online games move more and more toward purposes of challenge-free time-wasting (a valid use, by the way!), it's worth reminding ourselves of the logical (if absurd) endpoint of such efforts.
Here's the kicker though: Apple rejected iCapitalism during App Store review. The developers seem confused by this (noting that they didn't use any undocumented APIs), but it's clear that Apple is exercising their new policy to limit programs that don't offer much value (in their estimation). From the September 2010 Ap Store Review Guidelines:
- We have over 250,000 apps in the App Store. We don't need any more Fart apps.
- If your app doesn't do something useful or provide some form of lasting entertainment, it may not be accepted.
- If your App looks like it was cobbled together in a few days, or you're trying to get your first practice App into the store to impress your friends, please brace yourself for rejection. We have lots of serious developers who don't want their quality Apps to be surrounded by amateur hour.
Apple has also indicated that the more an app charges (whether through initial purchase or in-app purchases), the more strenuous their review will become.
The problem is this: iCapitalism does do something useful and provides some form of lasting entertainment—precisely by not doing anything useful in a smart way. Apple's ironic blindness for irony on the App Store is legendary, but in this case I doubt the faceless review bureaucrats even realize that the joke's on them.
But on the flipside, the iCapitalism developers' blog post about the rejection degrades from sharp (if simplistic) commentary into all-too-familiar whining about Apple review policies. Something more complicated is going on here.
When I made Cow Clicker, I argued that "satire these days risks becoming mere conceptual art." I still think that's true. In the heyday of conceptual art, it was sufficient artistic work simply to question that the work itself was the important part of the art. It was a natural extension and intensification of the critique of art developed by Marcel Duchamp's readymades. What better way to draw attention to the process and context of art than simply to post instructions for making art as the art itself—such was conceptualist Sol LeWitt's strategy, one further developed by Robert Rauschenberg, Yoko Ono, Piero Manzoni, and others.
When Manzoni claimed to have encased his own feces in a box that he then exhibited, the effect was clear; it provoked certain questions in the viewer. Can shit be art? Does it matter if there's really shit in the box? Is art meant to represent anyway, or just to provoke?
The problem is this: conceptual art is precious and gimmicky. It has proliferated, overtaking almost all other forms of contemporary creativity. It's become the norm. So much art is conceptual nowadays, even work that doesn't deserve the name "art." What's iFart, after all, but conceptual art? It poses questions like, what if your fancy new $500 iPhone was just a whoopee cushion? What is the minimum functionality possible in an app? Why is farting any less absurd and embarrassing than tweeting or receiving phone calls in public?
In their own backwards, totally unaware way, Apple is trying to bring an partial end to the era of conceptual art. It's no longer sufficient to pose a question like, "what if an app did nothing but ask you to spend money?" Instead, it ought to get people to do nothing more than to spend money, offering tiny, subtle peepholes through which to understand the difference between enjoyment and absurdity. This is much harder work than faced the conceptual artists of the twentieth century.
