Retirees gathered around the Wii. Mothers playing a few rounds of Angry Birds on their smartphones. In the last two decades, games have emerged from a small curiosity to a billion-dollar industry that attracts nearly everyone, even (perhaps especially) those who don’t consider themselves gamers. As this new media has slowly emerged from its childhood, we see more of its full-grown potential. Games don’t simply amaze us with technological wonders. They stimulate our intellect, creativity and emotions. Our hobby has just as much artistic potential as any film or novel, perhaps more. Being interactive, games have many artistic opportunities that simply can’t exist in traditional media. For all of their unique strengths, games are still thought of like any older art form. We talk about stunning visuals, immersive sound design and amazing storylines, but we ignore the meaning the game mechanics themselves carry.

The confusion is understandable. Games are media collages. It takes huge teams of artists from many disciplines to release a AAA title. Often the writing, music or visual art of a game will outshine all other elements. But when it comes to gameplay, we rarely grace it with more than a “fun” rubber stamp. If games truly are an art form, then they must have some element that makes them unique. Gameplay itself must be more than fun. It must be meaningful.

Take the classic BioWare RPG Baldur’s Gate, for example. It tells a classic epic fantasy story of a young man thrust into an adventure of noble friends, vile foes, and a dangerous world to explore. If you remove all gameplay and turn it into a series of cutscenes and dialogue, what’s left? We’ve reduced a dynamic classic to a generic fantasy story. Without a choice in the storytelling, the player doesn’t identify with the hero as much and is more distant from the story. Without leveling up and character building, the journey lacks the same feeling of epic progress. Without the possibility of failure, every success lacks meaning.

There’s a reason that most RPGs are story-centric. The standard mechanics of gaining experience and slowly leveling up a character from a weakling to a powerful hero are well suited to mirroring conflict and growth in a story. Just like in a real adventure, they are comprised of many mundane, repetitive tasks that are given meaning by their larger narrative. It’s fun to read the conclusion of an epic adventure, but it’s even better when you’ve had a hand in it. That final confrontation with Sephiroth/Sauron/Darth Vader is much more rewarding when you have to fight tooth-and-nail to get there.

Similarly, there’s a reason that first-person shooters are sometimes called Ego Shooters. While a third-person perspective identifies with a character, the first-person perspective is instantly self-identifying. Furthermore, the primary way the player interacts with the world is through a weapon. FPSs inherently communicate individualism, power and conflict.