For years, I have adhered to the proverb, ‘fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me.’

The shorthand meaning is quite obviously that we should learn from our mistakes, and to repeat the same error is a failure on our part to adjust accordingly. What I hadn’t realised until recently is that, perhaps through the same mindset, my capacity for mirth has taken on a similarly steep threshold.

This applies in many ways, but for the purposes of today, I’m reflecting mostly on the gaming industry’s constant demand for peak graphical fidelity. Put bluntly, I have not been ‘blown away’ in almost 20 years, with everything that has come since being little more than an iteration on the same visuals.

Yet another instance of an increasingly jaded outlook on life? Or a genuine case of diminishing returns that the industry stubbornly refuses to give more credence to? Let’s unpack — and hopefully, we’ll find that it’s the less nihilistic latter option.

First, it’s important to acknowledge that graphics are now at a level we could have hardly envisaged several generations prior. The rise of the ‘photo mode’ comes hand-in-hand with the raw processing power of modern hardware. Where developers would have once used sleight of hand to mask limitations, they now invite you to explore it as intricately as possible. Behold, the pores on this character’s nose!

To undercut these achievements is disingenuous, but to the naked eye they remain refinements, as opposed to wholesale advancements.

Many decades ago, the infancy of home hardware came hard and fast. If the Atari 2600 set the standard in 1977, the Famicom redefined the possibilities some six years later. There would be a notable and yet distinctly less prominent step forward with the 16-bit technology of the fourth console generation — though the NES had nothing as outright spectacular as Donkey Kong Country, its heavy hitters such as Kirby’s Adventure or Recca hold their own against lower-end SNES titles.

Then, in the mid-90s, three-dimensional polygons would become the gold standard. It seems apparent to the point of insulting that this was a tectonic shift, not just from an aesthetic viewpoint but to the very nature of game design itself, and yet it warrants a significant flag all the same: this was when gaming changed.

I myself remember the day I first played Super Mario 64, and upon descending into the sinister depths of Jolly Roger Bay to encounter the monstrous eel lurking at the lakebed, I was so rattled I put the controller down to walk away. I was terrified, in a way I had never been before. In effect, I retreated from a Mario game.

Even then, I would still be gobsmacked once more by what was to come next. The sixth generation was the last to boast about the might of its ‘bits’, offering 128 of the damned things, which dwarfed its predecessors by as much as four times the size.

And to me, this is where things hit the pinnacle; a stunning era to which everything since has been incremental, at best. Gone were the blocky polygonal models of yesteryear, and in their place were fluid, lively beings; realistic, kinetic, and astounding in their detail.

At last, we had a home console that could rival the juggernauts of the arcade industry. Dead or Alive 2 premiered in arcades in 1999, and when it arrived on the Dreamcast and PlayStation 2 the next year, you could arguably claim that it looked much the same. Not yet a 1-to-1 comparison, of course, but a relative facsimile all the same.

What would follow in the next generation was — and I do not make this statement lightly — more of the same. Not a leap forward, but a mere step; and one that has been repeated in the generations since.

Unconvinced? I don’t blame you, it’s all been conjecture up to this point, and that can be manipulated in favour of any argument. Let’s look at some tangible examples, courtesy of Kasumi of the aforementioned DoA franchise. For clarity’s sake, I’ve omitted the third entry, as it released within a short timeframe after its predecessor.

Clearly, there is improvement from generation to generation, particularly where her hair and fabric textures are concerned. You might concede that DoA 4 is somewhat of a transitional period, but then point to the latter examples as being an undeniable leap forward. Both launched near the end of their respective consoles’ shelf lives, and have achieved something approaching photorealism.

With that being said, the difference between DoA and DoA2 is stark — and a mere two years apart — as opposed to 12 or 19 years for DoA5 and DoA6 respectively. Rewinding that many years to track down the equivalent for DoA2 would mean bookending the 80s; and either Super Mario Bros. 3 on the NES in ’88, or Warlords on the Atari 2600 in ’81.

Is the new standard of this high definition era as impressive as that? Not by my estimate. But wait, I hear you say — there hasn’t been a new DoA game in half a decade. What about the progress made with the PlayStation 5 and Xbox Series X|S? The kind of visuals in God of War Ragnarök or Resident Evil 4 Remake wouldn’t have been possible before this, right?

Well, here’s the thing. That’s not entirely true. For quite a while now, many major titles that bridge the gap between one console and the next have been developed as cross-generational releases. It goes without saying, concessions have to be made for the games to work on the older hardware, but functionally they are still providing the same experience.

When did this copycatting kick off? No surprise here, but it was between the sixth console generation and the seventh. For those of you keeping score, that is the period that represents the plateau I’ve been alluding to.

The shorthand version of all this, is that I saw the PS2, GameCube, and Xbox do things visually that the PS1, N64, and Saturn could not. Then, I saw the PS3, Wii, and Xbox 360 do those same things, but marginally better. And so on, so forth for the generations to come.

Hence, why I bring up the case for diminishing returns. I can appreciate the craftsmanship and artistry that goes into the games deemed most visually appealing, but I stopped being outright impressed by them quite some time ago. I’m desensitised, in some strange way.

Perhaps this is another instance in which the stakes built things up too high, and too fast. Comparatively, the last time I was reeled in by a movie’s special effects was for 1997’s Men in Black. You might consider them to be outdated by today’s standards, but compared to what came before it? Mind-blowing stuff.

So yeah, when I laid eyes on something at the level of Soul Calibur II, Final Fantasy X-2, or Silent Hill 3 all the way back in 2003, there wasn’t really much room for subsequent entries to raise the bar. It was pushed stubbornly out of reach for so long, I can’t foresee a time when I’ll ever come near it again. Not even if I stand on my 4K, fully-rendered tippy-toes.