Game review: Wielding swords in a world of sharp tongues

As I explored the captivating world of Nier, unearthing its mysteries and reveling in its characters, I could not stop thinking about Chief Justice John Roberts and his brethren on the Supreme Court of the United States.

The court recently announced that it would take up the question of whether states may regulate the sale of video games to minors in a way that has not applied to books, films, visual art, music, and other media. The crux of the matter is whether the legal concept of obscenity, which has traditionally applied only to sexually explicit material, will be extended to cover depictions of violence. If the court expands the meaning of what society considers obscene, rather than merely offensive, states will be free to regulate games that include violence.

Is it too much to ask that the justices actually play some modern video games as they consider this? Probably.

Yet an interactive experience can never be truly understood through noninteractive video clips. What distinguishes an electronic game from older forms of mass entertainment is that the game must be actively participated in, rather than merely viewed. It is only through a player's sense of responsibility, direction, and individual agency that the pictures on the screen assume real meaning.

I hope that if the justices ask their young clerks to bring in one recent game for them to check out they bring in Nier. The game does many different things at such a high level of sophistication and accessibility that I cannot think of another single game of recent years that more faithfully represents the sheer intellectual breadth of modern video games.

Nier, developed by Cavia of Japan and released in North America last week by Square Enix for the Xbox 360 and PlayStation 3 consoles, is fairly violent. It is often profane. It is also provocative and at times profound in its storytelling, empathetic and nuanced in its characters, exhilaratingly diverse in its gameplay design, and almost perfectly paced.

Most important, Nier succeeds at fostering an emotional investment in its characters and in its world that gives all of its hacking and slashing and jumping and exploring and puzzle-solving, and even its virtual fishing and farming, a sense of value and meaning.

When a fantasy setting is described as "post-apocalyptic," what usually comes to mind are smoking ruins, mutants, and shotguns. Nier has none of those. The main story unfolds 1,300 years in the future, and 21st-century human society exists only as relic. The trestles of a ruined railroad bridge loom over a pastoral landscape as a reminder that humanity, now returned to a subsistence existence, once accomplished great things.

You, the player's character, are a father whose daughter has been stricken by a terrible supernatural disease. From the simple, elemental motivation of helping her unfolds a tale that reveals the fate of the world and which throws into question the nature of humanity itself. Is humanity a state of being? A state of mind? A state of purpose?

In its gameplay structure, Nier defies easy categorization. The combat mechanics are basic and easily grasped as you swing swords and sling spells against your otherworldly foes. There are strong role-playing elements in terms of customizing your equipment and abilities. The direction of the main storyline is always clear, and yet there is an open (if small) world to explore and several dozen thoroughly optional side quests.

In its overall range of styles, the franchise Nier most closely resembles is Nintendo's Legend of Zelda series. The difference is that Nier is aimed at adults.

The one area where Nier blatantly falls short is in its graphics - they simply look dated - but great games are rarely about graphics.

They are mostly about contextualizing and speaking to various aspects of human existence, even violence, in the service of an entertaining, interactive artistic experience.

I hope the Supreme Court will realize that.