Hi,
I’ve worked in this medium long enough to see how the passion for creating interactive worlds has transformed into a competition to produce faster and cheaper. I should clarify that I’ve never made a video game; I’ve only created stories, characters, and dubbed into Latin American Spanish (my language; if this is poorly translated, it’s Google Translate’s fault). Today, faced with the expansion of images generated by artificial intelligence (AI), the video game industry faces a decisive ethical and aesthetic dilemma: will we continue to allow machines to replace human art, or will we defend the creative soul that gave rise to this medium? My position is clear: we must definitively banish the use of AI-generated images in video games. This is not a fear of progress, but an act of cultural defense against a technology that threatens to empty our art of meaning. We are not EA, we are literally the proletariat and if as a community (however small) we do not start to put limits on garbage content, the desire for meaningless production, purpose and in general, those few feederism games that have soul, personality and depth… will get lost in the shit creating a market of overproduction where being a good creator will not be profitable or appealing.
Images produced by AI are not art, merely a mimicry of it. The machine does not imagine, remember, suffer, or contemplate; it only averages. Every pixel it generates is based on millions of past human examples, but devoid of intention. (Anyone who knows about art will know why the fact that art lacks intention already invalidates it as art.) Recent studies have shown that humans distinguish and value works they believe were created by people more than those made by AI, even when they cannot visually differentiate them. In the study by Bellaiche et al. (2023), participants rated human works as more beautiful, profound, and with greater creative merit. This demonstrates something essential: artistic value lies not in the aesthetic result, but in the consciousness behind the act of creation. A video game, as a complete work, cannot be sustained by a mimicry of humanity. Furthermore, using AI in visual production leads to an alarming homogenization (there are no products that look new, there is no innovation, they are all the same). Generative models are trained on millions of pre-existing images, and therefore tend to reproduce the same visual patterns, the same palettes, the same gestures. What appears to be diversity is actually statistical repetition. The result is an ocean of visually indistinct titles, devoid of identity or risk. According to Koivisto and Grassini (2023), humans still outperform AI in divergent creativity tasks, demonstrating a much greater capacity to generate original ideas. Relying on AI to create the worlds we imagine means giving up the very possibility of aesthetic innovation.
Another aspect that should concern us is the precarization of creative work. Every time a company decides to replace an illustrator or designer with an image generator, it’s not just saving costs: it’s contributing to the erosion of the artistic profession. And you, as the offspring, are you going to be part of that movement? AI is trained on millions of human works taken without permission or compensation, expropriating the efforts of artists around the world to produce a diluted copy of their style. This isn’t progress; it’s digital extractivism. As the Krisis Group (2002) warns, contemporary capitalism seeks to eliminate human labor while maintaining the ideology of performance. AI embodies that contradiction: it promises efficiency at the cost of erasing authorship, ethics, and the dignity of the creator. Those of us who defend creativity as an act of freedom cannot accept this substitution. AI doesn’t liberate the artist; it replaces them. Murray Bookchin (2014) warned that a technology is only liberating if it expands human capabilities, not if it replaces them. In this case, the developer ceases to be a creator and becomes a prompt operator, a recombination technician. In cultural terms, this amounts to a regression: from the work to the formula, from gesture to instruction.
The consequences are also felt in the game design itself. AI-generated titles tend to focus on superficial visual stimuli—changing models, characters gaining weight without an understood anatomy, multiplying effects—but with empty mechanics. This type of product confuses aesthetics with experience and transforms the player into a passive consumer. There is no longer challenge, exploration, or discovery (in terms of experience creation), only repetition. Instead of being interactive art, they become dopaminergic displays, designed to maintain attention without offering any meaning. As Berardi (2023) points out, we live in an era in which symbolic labor has been absorbed by automation, producing an excess of signs without soul or context. AI-created video games are the clearest manifestation of this saturation.
Even more serious, AI-generated images tend to be culturally biased and, depending on the model, have political objectives that censor their true capabilities. The datasets used to train them are dominated by Western, commercial, and masculine aesthetics, resulting in uniform representations devoid of real diversity. Thus, AI not only replaces the artist but also imposes a global visual canon that erases identities (anyone who understands sociology and cultural intersectionality should be shitting their pants right now). Allowing its expansion into video game development would be tantamount to accepting a form of colonization. We can no longer normalize the cannibalization of human works to produce soulless content. We must legislate, agree, and, above all, commit as a community of developers to ban the use of AI-generated images in video games. Art doesn’t need to be faster, but more human; it doesn’t need to be more perfect, but more truthful. If we accept this substitution, we will lose not only jobs, but also the very meaning of creating. And when that happens, there will be no more video games, only playable code produced by algorithms that have never known what it feels like.
Bibliography (yes, i am a nerd):
Bellaiche, L., Shahi, R., Turpin, M. H., & et al. (2023). Humans versus AI: whether and why we prefer human-created compared to AI-created artwork. Cognitive Research: Principles and Implications, 8(42). Humans versus AI: whether and why we prefer human-created compared to AI-created artwork | Cognitive Research: Principles and Implications | Full Text
Berardi, F. (2023). Half a Century Against Work. Bifid Canon. Autonomous City of Buenos Aires: Tinta Limón.
Bookchin, M. (2014). Towards a Liberating Technology. The Anarchist Library.
Grupo Krisis. (2002). Manifesto Against Work. Barcelona: Virus Editorial.
Koivisto, M., & Grassini, S. (2023). Best humans still outperform artificial intelligence in a creative divergent thinking task. Scientific Reports, 13(14501). Best humans still outperform artificial intelligence in a creative divergent thinking task - PMC

