In 1982, one of the first 3D games ever released doubled as one of the earliest examples of survival horror. In the pixelated 3D Monster Maze, you not only had to find your way out of a maze but survive being hunted by a T. rex. In the decades since, the dino-horror genre has only grown, from 1999’s DinoCrisis to 2016’s Far Cry Primal, but dinosaurs have also become more than in-game monsters.
We’ve seen dinosaurs as allies (Yoshi, Pokemon), dinosaurs as attractions (park sims like Zoo Tycoon or Jurassic World), or dinosaurs and their fossils as collectibles (see the in-game markets of Sims or Animal Crossing). The way games have depicted both ancient animals and the paleontologists who study them has gotten richer and deeper as time has passed—though there’s still plenty of pixelated T. rexes chomping off people’s heads.
But what do paleontologists—the ones collaborating on new discoveries, solving ancient mysteries, and simulating dinosaur physics in labs—think of paleontological games? I flew to Denver to find out. From mazes of Mesozoic posters to surreal ballroom gatherings, I’ve been around asking.
Last October, thousands of members of the Geological Society of America met in Denver, Colorado. Ever since their founding in 1888, their annual meeting has been a central gathering place for geologic minds, opinions, and hundreds of posters that fill hangar-size conference halls. Though part of a historical society, the next gen of geologists in Denver were diverse, excited, and connected. At the GSA social hour, amongst the flow of free soda, hard seltzer, and experts in Saskatchewan uranium deposits, undergrads sported crisp gorpcore outfits and hunted for TikTok-famous geologists in the crowd.
These real-life scientists are far from the snooty, dignified, bow-tied paleontologists depicted in games, most famously Animal Crossing’s Blathers. “He’s very annoying. I hope I’m not like him,” says Rebecca Starkey, a student at College of Charleston. Experts say that the paleontologists we see in games—the colonial antiquarians, the Indiana Jones adventurers, and the “brilliant lone scientists” who scoff at teamwork or basic ethics—limit both media representations of the geosciences and also potential gameplay mechanics. Collaborative dinosaur fieldwork is full of gameplay opportunities, especially in a genre flush with minigames about racing to collect and sell bones. Geologist Robin Trayler will even avoid board games about the topic. “At least the commercial ones have an antiquated view. I don't want the field to be viewed as cutthroat and competitive; it should be about collaboration.”
