I have tracked the evolution of the Rockstar Games version of the open world genre over the years with much interest. They are unmatched in their ability to create cohesive worlds rich in atmosphere that beg to be explored and played with. With each new release Rockstar have also attempted to develop a much richer guided narrative, with mixed results. However even with their track record Rockstar has been unable to reconcile the player freedom in the open world space with the constraints of providing a fleshed out character-driven story. This criticism of their games has been presented by other in more detail elsewhere so I will put it simply: In Red Dead Redemption my violent rampage with rifle and lasso is not the most suitable bridge between the chapters of the story of John Marston.
As many will already know Red Dead Redemption is an apple that does not fall far from the tree that is Rockstar Games’ open world formula. It’s single player portion does contain refinements that go a ways to addressing the above failing but regardless there is still ample ammunition for anyone who wishes to take that position. At the same time there is the multiplayer free roam portion of Red Dead Redemption. It comes tantalizingly close to fulfilling that dreamy promise of the ideal Rockstar multiplayer mode where anything might be possible. In free roam the whim of player and posse defines the next set of actions and stories are created from the conditions set up by Rockstar at the start. It is like some mad scientist version of Conway’s Game of Life…with horses. Through the lense of this maniacal creation I can build up a narrative where I will stop a hard driven pursuit to add to my collection of local flora or pause to share the sunset with a friend before blowing their head off just as they begin to describe what we were sharing. I am finding this method of narrative creation to be extremely satisfying and it has inevitably led me to compare it with the completely separate single player experience. And that is to be expected isn’t it?
I have always enjoyed that this medium has demarcation zones created by the player between our single and multiplayer experiences. With few exceptions games today provide us with easy ways to do this. The separation of Gerard as multiplayer cowboy from hell and Gerard as John Marston is as easy as paying attention to the two options provided when the title screen loads. It has even reached a point on the development side where games like Starcraft 2 and Medal of Honor utilise separate development teams for each experience. There are few brave enough to entertain the idea that one could merge the multiplayer ladder climb with the singleplayer narrative(?) of Modern Warfare 2. It is not worth that kind of effort and the reason is clear. These are parts of the same whole, the game that sits on your shelf, but we separate these experiences because they are simply not the same. Players are accustomed to having these dissociated story’s within a single game but I don’t think we go far enough.
Why must we join the John Marston of the open world of Red Dead Redemption with that of the John Marston of cutscenes and directed missions?
Are we compelled beyond our power to the tyranny of our avatar’s appearance or who inhabits the virtual space around us?
Do our stories really require a level of consistency that will place a limit to the interactivity we so greatly treasure?
Videogames provide us with a system to play with, not to be controlled by. The process of forming my own story through my play is mine to structure and control, and at times to edit. No boasting Halo player ever speaks of his defeats so I feel I have some small license to separate my stories. Red Dead Redemption continues the tradition of providing an expansive and atmospheric world for me to explore. I will make my own separate stories with the online free mode, with my random actions in singleplayer and with my connection to a strong character in John Marston. I am empowered in demarcating my time with a videogame because I am the player. If this is to be my escapism then I will craft many varied and interesting experiences and I look forward to any game that provides me with a Game of Life-and-then-some to do so.
I support the tyranny of player over game.
I was a child with a vivid imagination. I spent many hours in my backyard tree, defending my kingdom from invading nasties. My custom-built Lego spaceship took me far into the galaxy and back again, always with many stories to tell of battles with aliens and treasures uncovered. These fantastical adventures spawned from a special place inside my head, a place of joy and comfort but also a place where I was the winner. I controlled the fantasy and thus I knew that no matter how dire the circumstances, I would come out on top. I would win the day. I do not believe that such an experience is uncommon during our lost childhood years and I think this is why many videogames take a certain form.
Playing as Faith I will save my sister.
Playing as Mario I will defeat Bowser.
Playing as Darsil, the stealthy Dunmer mage I will fulfill the prophecies and defeat Dagoth Ur to save all of Morrowind from his cult-like Sixth House.
Or maybe I won’t but that is because I have made my own quest, that will be fulfilled on the streets of Liberty City.
There are so many points when we play videogames that we know we will win. They exist to make us feel good, to get lost in a world like our childhood fantasies. To end in victory. If games are an extension of our imagination then they will carry that assumption of success unless deliberately exorcised by conscious thought. It is because of this that I feel the game industry as yet cannot bring itself to make a good piece of horror gaming. The escapism that so many gamers find is equivalent to the catharsis provided by classic moments of horror cinema where the audience might just scream out loud. We have no need to be cast adrift like the audience after Psycho’s shower scene no matter how many times Infinity Ward designed AI kills your floating gun portal to it’s world. We will be back in that world, connected and fighting on to eventual victory. There might be some twist, we might even die. But we will not lose.
Horror is about feeling out of control, accepting that the world might be a place where you cannot win and where you might not be able to escape. By referencing the many audio and visual artifacts of the cinematic traditions games can create unnerving moment after unnerving moment, repeated over and over. But this ends with your escape, alive and successful, no less empowered than the triumphant return of Abe to Rapture Farms to liberate his fellow Mudokan. We need to source another segment of our conscious experience in order to create true pieces of horror gaming. If games come from our imagination where we are in control then maybe we need to search our experience for something altogether different. Maybe we need to remember our nightmares and what it means to have one. Those moments of our dreams we are out of control and yet still on an amazing journey.
I approached the release of Modern Warfare 2 with no intention of picking up the game. I have not played a game in the series since CoD2 including the first Modern Warfare. I had no investment, nothing to gain or lose by continuing my avoidance of what could one day be considered a touchstone in the development of the FPS genre. But then a weird thing happend. Yesterday I was at a store, paying for my copy of Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2. Maybe I subconsciously wanted to be part of the ‘in’ crowd, to know what the fuss was about. I think upon reflection I wanted to play “The Level” as it has been dubbed in many a tweet these last couple of days. I wanted to be able to account for the experience it provided, to defend it in my own little microcosm of the world against those who would use it to decry one of the most important parts of my life. I did not care if it was heartless, opportunistic or careless in it’s execution or inclusion, I figured as a seasoned gamer that would not affect me much. I wanted to be informed so that I could comment.
The result: as the first shot rang out from my ‘teammates’ I paused the game. I got up and walked around the house for a bit. I sat down and started playing for a bit longer. I fired some bullets to shatter a glass roof, to ‘pretend’ I was involved in the mission. I could not be the type of warrior I had pretended to be in levels just passed. I had to take it. The feeling in my stomach was reminiscent of the time I read through Brett Easton Ellis’ American Psycho. I would finish chapters, stop and decide to stop reading, not because I did not have the opportunity to, but because I simply did not feel like it. That this game could affect me so meant that it was worth personal reflection.
As a linear narrative based shooter Modern Warfare 2 is akin to a blockbuster film in so many ways. But where it differs provides a powerful example of what makes games such an important medium for me. It challenges my expectations through it’s unique property, interactivity. Expectations are tested in cinema through narrative devices. This game does so with a challenge to my ability to take action and have a feeling of agency set up in the opening levels of the game. Modern Warfare 2 through “the level” is saying to me
“You must uncover this experience differently because it is different, accounting for the violence of the world in the game is not just about being a walking empowered gun”
Maybe I will be a action hero in this game when I laugh out loud at the spectacle of the final snow buggy jump, but I am not an action hero when playing that level.
Around me are the sounds of battle: gunfire and explosions, near and far away. The objective, a mortar team up on the hill is harassing our armor and needs to be neutralized. How we will get up there has been on my mind for the last 5 minutes. We creep carefully closer so as to avoid the line of sight of the enemy. A lapse in concentration results in the machine gun emplacement opening up on our position. I order a fast move to the cover of a scattered pile of rocks. I take a bullet in the leg in the time it takes me to ensure my men make it to safety. Bullets zip past my head as I hit the deck and crawl to where my men are waiting. An explosion ruptures my existence, a grenade, possibly, all I see is dirt through blurred vision. I keep on moving. I make it to cover, taking a moment to assess the situation. Every glance out of cover is met with more fire from the enemy. I order my men to flank left where other scattered rocks will cover their approach. I inch out of cover to lay down a suppressing fire, allowing my men to move forward. The enemy fires again, less accurately this time. Things are looking up, I steal a moment to check on my men. They are moving to the obje….
The screen goes black, a stray bullet had struck me in the head. I am dead
The moment to moment action in the new Operation Flashpoint game, Dragon Rising is what makes this game an amazing experience. There is an ever present possibility of death, independent of choices made and you never feel the hand of the developer in these events. They have set up the base conditions and your presence is what causes the scenario to play out. Dragon Rising provides the intial (and expected) escapism and empowerment on a videogame letting you play soldier. Your actions are shown to be integral to each victory, you are the active force in this world. But you also inherit the realistic chance that as a soldier, your death is only one bullet away. Operation Flashpoint avoids many other gaming traditions aimed at reminding you of your empowered existence. There is no swell of orchestral music when you order a charge and no canned character dialogue for when a team member dies. The game succeeds because it does not try to elicit emotion or reaction from me in any way except through gameplay and given the large open nature of every mission, and unscripted AI, this comes at unexpected times. I do not need a large explosion or vista to reward me for being successful, overcoming the challenge of the game is it’s own reward. When a mission is complete there is no cutscene to form my character’s story, there is only the things I have just done, the moments that have just passed. The screen simply fades to black until I next take up the role of the soldier and define my experience by actions. The game does not try to force feed the empowerment fantasy to the player, anytime you act in a way that results in feelings of agency they feel earned and are much more effective.