You find yourself in an elevator with four other men. Everyone is suited up. The doors open as Makarov, the nefarious leader of the group, turns briefly to you and says, “Remember, no Russian.”

The small squad of men, neatly dressed in unassuming sharp suits, were it not for their body armour and heavy weaponry, casually step onto the airport floor. Directly in front of you, a line of at least twenty people stands before a security checkpoint; many more wait further on. All are turned away from you. The moment is surreal; the four men stand, relaxed, and observe the line for a moment.

There is a brief moment of absurd calm. A man in the line briefly turns toward you and sees you. He does not scream, or even express surprise; nothing registers in his mind during his final seconds. Then, the weapons are raised, and the men begin firing, point blank, into the busy crowd. The screaming begins. A cloud of blood seems to form around their struggling bodies, as sparks fly and people trip over each other to try and get away. We walk through the beeping metal detectors and pick off survivors.

The slaughter continues for another five minutes. Several security guards, hopelessly overwhelmed by superior weaponry, are quickly dispatched. Some of the people hold up their hands and whimper; others crawl away, grabbing at their wounds; a man bravely attempts to drag a wounded individual out of an electronics store; all are shot. Eventually, the squad makes its way to the tarmac and battles several support teams, who tout riot shields and smoke grenades. They, too, are killed, before Makarov makes his escape in an ambulance.

If you are of the eighteen to twenty-something gamer demographic, chances are you have either heard of or played Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2. You may have heard about its controversial mission, ‘No Russian,’ where the player, a CIA operative, is made to take part in a terrorist attack in order to get close to a high profile target.

Do not understand me to be a charlatan. I am not terribly conservative, nor am I against violent videogames—quite the opposite. From a (probably unhealthy) young age, I have played every console-based Grand Theft Auto game, countless first person shooters, and any other number of M-rated games. I even owned and often played the relatively little-known Playstation 2 title, ‘State of Emergency,’ in which, as an active participant in riots, you could (amongst other things) blow people up and use their dismembered limbs as melee weapons.

And of course, I was enthralled by the first Modern Warfare title. Developed by Infinity Ward, Modern Warfare’s tight, addictive gameplay was a massive hit. So, taking a break from university life, I practically rushed to a friend’s house last Saturday when I heard that he had procured a copy of the sequel.

Running up to the release of the game, Infinity Ward had teased, in various trailers, that there would be some sort of terrorist activity involved in the game, and that the gamer would even get the chance to participate. My curiosity had been peaked; I was, in truth, quite desperate to play ‘the airport level,’ as I had deemed it. I wanted to see how the drama would unfold, and had been deliberately avoiding reviews and previews of the game so I could see it for myself.

It should be noted that you are not actually forced to shoot any civilians; you are only given the vague instruction, “Follow Makarov’s lead.” That being said, in order to complete the level on any difficulty you will have to forcibly get past the riot police on the tarmac.

I expressed my disturbance to my friends; they laughed. One of them said: “Give me the controller if you can’t do it.” I was disgusted.

Then, later that day, I went out and bought the game.

I asked myself, what was the justification for all of this? Initially, I was angered by the fact that Infinity Ward had so obviously decided to use the level (quite needlessly, for you are given the option to skip it) as a marketing tool. Controversy equals sales. It certainly equalled mine—combined with the vivid gameplay of other levels, and the great multiplayer. Despite the extremity of it, despite the sheer macabre, I wanted to play No Russian’ again. I wanted to look at the little details and see it for a second time. I wanted to experiment with different approaches, and relive the experience.

But it kept bothering me. Why did I want to relive this experience? How could I possibly reconcile my purchase with ethical standards in our society?

But in retrospect, I realized that perhaps ‘No Russian’ does have a place in our society. For one thing, it is a powerful examination of the horrors of terrorism. It immerses you in the violence and shock in a way that no other media can convey. We can no longer say of the medium: “It’s just a game.” It is so much more. ‘No Russian,’ and numerous other videogame instances, have transcended the entertainment medium and become works of art. They make us think; they can be emotionally powerful masterworks in which worlds that we could never have conceived of suddenly become real, if only briefly.

It is you, the player, who has control over the actions of a character. Indeed, many new and recent games actually permit you to transcend a linear experience and ultimately shape the identity and destiny of a character. And gaming has become a catalyst for social networking and discussion.

Most importantly, videogames make for excellent social commentary, for they are interactive. You are actively encouraged to participate in the experience. You cannot casually observe it. This is why ‘No Russian’ is such a powerful experience. The experience is yours, and the way in which you interact with the level can advertently become a psychoanalytic examination of who you are as a person. Responses to the level are diverse, ranging from total indifference to enjoyment.

If actions speak louder than words, what can next-generation videogames tell us about ourselves?