In my first let's play, I tackle Never Alone (Kisima Ingitchuna). This is a blind playthrough, and I hope you enjoy it. Want more? Follow my blog at: http://...
A Gamer Prepares is now on YouTube! For my first Let’s Play: Never Alone (Kisima Ingitchuna). Like, comment, and subscribe for more gaming goodness.
Bethesda Finally Figured Out How To Make Me Behave
Bethesda isn’t exactly known for games with complicated morality. Most players, myself included, tend to do a bit of everything; very rarely is it rewarding to play as a character who tries to be mostly good or mostly bad. Fallout 4 seems to be leading me towards a very different experience. I’ve been playing quite a lot of Fallout 4 lately; I’m not anywhere near done, but I have certainly gotten a feel for the game. So far my play style has been very different from usual. The surprising reason for this change: companions.
Of course, Bethesda games (I suppose I should concede that I am talking about the Fallout and Elder Scrolls series as if they are all Bethesda produces) often include companions; this is not a new development. However, the companions of Fallout 4 are an improved breed. They have personalities, backstories, and—most importantly—strong opinions about your actions. The karma system, or in Oblivion, the fame/infamy system, affected what quests were available and whatnot but it never made me care what kind of character—morally speaking—I was crafting.
Fallout 4 makes me care. The game made me love Piper, so I am genuinely bothered when I earn her disapproval. I want Nick Valentine to think my character is the coolest, so I do my best to help people. And the game has made those desires so strong, I feel guilty doing something “wrong” even if they are not there to disapprove. I hesitate to compare them, but the companions and their approval system remind me of Bioware.
Perhaps some of these feelings come from a yearning for character continuity. A voiced protagonist does make me want to create a complete and consistent character. But mostly, I just want Piper Wright to love me.
Time to go pick some locks in the name of helping the Commonwealth.
(Piper liked that.)
If you are at all familiar with the term dramaturgy, you have probably heard it in reference to theatre. Dramaturgy is associated with the stage for obvious reasons; that is where it began. Fortunately, its usefulness is now being recognized by other mediums. Video games, for example, have started to adopt more dramaturgical approaches. If you are not familiar with the term, now is a good time to get on the same page.
Others have written whole books on the subject, so I am going to keep this explanation rather simple. Merriam-Webster Online Dictionary defines dramaturgy as “ the art or technique of dramatic composition and theatrical representation”, but that definition does not adequately explain what a dramaturg (often spelled dramaturge) does exactly. Unfortunately, there is no simple definition that adequately explains what a dramaturg does. In the theatre, the role of the dramaturg can vary widely from one company to the next. They can pick and arrange a season of plays, assist in the creation of new works, edit older texts, facilitate educational outreach, etc. In my experience, they are most commonly tasked with researching a play—production history, historical elements, and any other pertinent information, and making sure that research is conveyed to the director and actors. Often, the dramaturg creates any program notes or lobby displays that prepare the audience for a given production. They may also be an extra set of eyes for the director in rehearsal to make sure the desired story is being told clearly. When a play is being produced, someone is doing this work whether there is an official dramaturg or not. The possibilities for the work of a dramaturg are nearly endless, making a basic description of their job a difficult task. Fortunately, the skills used in these various tasks are somewhat easier to define.
Dramaturgy, more than anything, requires a clear understanding of structure and narrative. Essentially, it poses three questions: what is the story, how is it being told, and what is necessary to tell it? The application of these questions to theatre is fairly straightforward, how do they tie into video games? New media dramaturg Klaus P. Jantke says it best:
“Dramaturgy is the design of emotional experience. For digital games that are intended to tell a story, game design includes the anticipation of the players’ experience which will lead to excitement, fascination, thrill, perhaps to immersion and flow. What players will experience takes place over time. Events that happen are linearly ordered and those that may potentially happen form a partially ordered space, the game’s story space. Dramaturgical game design is the anticipation of varying experiences and their thoughtful arrangement in a partially ordered space of events that players may possibly experience when playing the game.”
Video games—with their splitting and converging plot lines—may need more dramaturgical help than theatre. Dramaturgy can make sure these diverging plot lines all eventually carry the same intention, so that even when the plot changes the story remains consistent. This consistency is important both for player experience and production. After all, player input in games that involve choice must seem to affect the world without demanding creators make ten times as much content. A good dramaturg can devise a plan to make few technical changes feel narratively distinct, and keep a games message in tact despite different story endings. This use of dramaturgy does not apply exclusively to more cinematic moments like cut scenes. It can also be used to examine how the mechanics of a game tell the story. Perhaps dramaturgy can even be used to decide what mechanics needs to be in a tutorial and what can be saved for more emergent gameplay. All games tell some kind of story, even when they aren't overtly theatrical, and video game dramaturgy is essential to making them the best story possible.
Way back in the 1970’s a certain tabletop role-playing game was invented. You may have heard of it; it’s called Dungeons and Dragons. D&D is the inspiration for many a video game tradition, especially where Fantasy RPG's are concerned. This titan of the tabletop has influenced many aspects of modern games, but this post will focus only on one: the bard. Specifically the bard's connection to their craft. Although D&D did not invent the bard—the bard was already making its way into the fantasy genre as a type of musical magic user—it did solidify its place as a common character class in games to come.
The bard as a magic user is inspired by stories such as The Pied Piper of Hamelin, with the idea that music itself it a kind of magic. Unfortunately, many modern video game offspring of D&D have downplayed or done away with the importance of any kind of art to the bard. Mostly, bards are minor magicians or charming assassins or bumbling fools, and they are almost always better liars than any other class. The Elder Scrolls series uses bards as both playable classes and NPCs. Players may choose to play as a bard in both Morrowind and Oblivion, providing a boost to their personality and intelligence, but music is never mentioned. In an unexpected turn, Skyrim does away with the class system, but gives the bards back their music. In the city of Solitude, a whole college is devoted to the training of bards, who can be seen performing their tunes (all three of them) in each inn in the game. The player never gets to perform, but they can join the college and accomplish important tasks. (Like recovering other college member’s instruments for them. Hooray for fetch quests!)
The most important job given to the player is finding and reconstructing a book of verses to be performed at a festival. The player essentially acts as the dramaturg of the Bard’s College by researching and recreating a text for use in performance. (So really I mean fighting through a dungeon and then making stuff up, but dramaturgy is a broad field, ok?) This performance is one of the rare moments in which bards are linked to the theatre, despite the fact that the historical bard was a poet and a storyteller as much as a musician. Skyrim positions the Bard’s College as a place to learn many different kinds of art--singing, playing instruments, writing or reciting poetry--making Skyrim the most historically accurate portrayal of the bard in any video game I have ever played. Unfortunately, that accuracy does not carry over into the player character (at least not without a mod). The Dragonborn can earn the title of bard but never use the abilities of one.
Skyrim and its Western fantasy contemporaries are not the only games to include the bard as a playable class. JRPG’s (Japanese role-playing games) have taken the bard and created a plethora of performance-based classes. For example, the bard has made an appearance—called a job in this case—in many installments of the Final Fantasy series. The bard offers status effects and stat boosts for the party by singing or playing an instrument. The dancer, a variation on the bard, serves a similar purpose but with more physical attacks.
It is interesting that JRPGs interpret the bard so differently, deriving their skills more directly from their abilities as a performer. And when not performing, their usefulness lies in their ability to support their teammates. Why can’t all performance based job classes be like this? Useful, supportive, important. So often the bard is the joke character. Its almost like Japan sees artists and performers in a different light than America. We all love a good comic relief character, but is it too much to ask for more of what these games are providing? Instead of shifty liars or useless comedians, these bards are capable of inspiring their comrades, or, in the case of Skyrim, preserving and sharing history. They are important: to the party and to the world at large (and can still be funny while doing it). Yet some people refuse to see their value. So I’m here to defend the bard’s worth. Because their defense stats are too low to do it themselves.
But seriously, ARE male voice actors even allowed to emote? We all know the type: the game protagonist with the emotional range of a potato. He knows how to express himself in exactly three ways: growling, yelling, and silence. Maybe the occasional yelling/growling combination. You know at least one character has already come to mind. There’s Master Chief, Geralt of Rivia, Kratos, Snake, most of the cast of Gears of War…
I could go on, but I think you get the point. There are a lot of popular characters that fall into this category. But why? Why do so many emotionless men make up the bulk of popular playable characters in games?
The world of The Witcher is incredibly dark, yet Geralt never seems to care when those he loves die around him, or if he does, the best way to show that feeling is anger; sadness and fear are never present. Unlike Geralt, Master Chief actually has a plot reason for his lack of emotion--the Spartan program basically turned him into a robot—and sometimes his emotionless can be read as tragic. Still, the series as a whole has not done much to challenge this idea of the stoic hero. More recently, attempts have been made to deepen his character. His relationship with Cortana was the driving force behind Halo 4, and the ending scene should have been incredibly moving. Unfortunately, the way the character is voiced without emotion made it just plain awkward. Call me cruel, but I laughed. The decisions made about his character in the beginning are too entrenched, making it incredibly difficult to move away from them. Nevertheless, I remain optimistic about what Halo 5 might do with its larger cast of characters. Having not played the other games referenced, I won’t address them in detail, but Master Chief and Geralt are enough to prove my point. Halo and The Witcher are two of the most popular franchises around, and both have leads that wouldn’t cry at their own mother’s funeral.
I suppose my issue is not with the voice actors themselves; I’m sure they are capable of emoting when necessary. The problem is the way these male characters are constructed. Video games, more than any other media, seemed to have latched on to a very particular idea of masculinity. Men are stoic, strong, levelheaded, and they never, ever cry. Many games seem to be designed as a power fantasy, made to give the player a sense of control and importance they lack in real life. With that in mind, it makes sense that the main character has a certain ability to school their emotions and control their surroundings. But by exaggerating the level of control and associating it specifically with masculinity, these male power fantasies become prescriptive; they say something about what males should be. That prescriptiveness quickly becomes destructive, forming a world in which boys believe they are not permitted to express their feelings in a healthy way.
These constructions hurt women as much as they hurt men. Besides growly voices and limited emotional range, another trait these men always seem to share is their eye candy companions. In the world of Halo, Cortana serves many purposes, but her character design definitely seems to suggest she has only one. The women of The Witcher series are just as sexualized. In my playthrough of The Witcher 2, I don’t recall a single important female character—despite their strength, intelligence, or power—that was not made the object of titillation. In one scene, Triss uses her impressive magical ability to melt away her own clothing. And of course, I would not be the first to take issue with Quiet’s design in the latest installment of Metal Gear Solid (She breathes through her skin, so she has to be nearly naked. Duh. It’s can’t possible be sexist because plot device). The presence of such female characters—who are often romantically linked to the lead—reinforces male power fantasies and women as reward for that power.
Not only does this construction harm both men and women, but it also makes it acceptable to have dull protagonists. I have heard it argued that these boring leads are designed specifically to leave room for self-insertion by the player, but isn’t that almost worse? We are encouraging players not only to look up to these emotionally stunted individuals, but also to become them. If they are meant to be the everyman, then isn’t it very troubling what we consider ordinary? Personally, I find it easier to identify with a well-developed character. In a game like The Witcher, I can choose how Geralt reacts, yet my options never include grief or confusion. Compared to something like Dragon Age: Inquisition that allows for such range, I find myself relating to my character much more strongly than to my unflappable dude hero. Moving away from these male constructions is necessary, not just for the health of our boys, but for games as a medium to continue to grow.
Virtual reality is the up-and-coming thing in the world of video games. This year’s E3 was all about VR and its headsets: Oculus Rift, Project Morpheus, HoloLens, etc. Games that feature Oculus Rift support, like the survival space adventure Adrift, are garnering a lot of attention.
But of course, these VR headsets have applications well beyond video games. Psychology, biology, and other sciences are making use of VR headsets in a variety of experiments. The arts are not far behind.
There is already a precedent for virtual reality theatre. Theatre practitioners have often worked with the latest technology to further their work, and VR is no different. Its various forms have made its way into theatre already. For example, the Metaverse Shakespeare Company (previously the SL Shakespeare Company), performed productions of Shakespeare’s plays in the online virtual world Second Life. Technology makes it possible to use motion capture to project live avatars of real performers; it was this tech that made the Metaverse Theatre Company work (although limited character animations in Second Life did not allow for a wide range of acting choices). Motion capture has now improved well beyond what was used for their shows, allowing this kind of theatre to expand. We can immerse audiences fully in a VR scene, even at home with the use of technology like Oculus Rift. People can already have the experience (although some might argue against how "real" such experiences are, but that is a philosophical debate for another day) of movie theaters or live concerts from their living room; perhaps, plays will soon follow. Jane Gauntlett—a founding member of the UK theatre company Sublime and Ridiculous—is already using VR headsets to create powerfully empathetic first-person performances that allows people to experience new things first hand, such as recreating the sensations of brain damage. More information can be found here:
http://www.sublimeandridiculous.org/
Some argue that VR will not simply be used to make new kinds of theatre and film, but will become a new medium all together, an argument I find fairly convincing. However, even if this should be the case, theatre practitioners will still have a huge role to play in this new medium. In an interview with Rolling Stone, Eugene Chung—Oculus' head of film and media—said that theatre directors would probably do better when working with Oculus Rift because film directors are used to framing shots while “theater directors think about this all the time: How do you get an audience to look at the right side of the stage, as opposed to the left side?" Chung is right; in a VR world, it is the theatre people who will really understand how to make it work. Although film directors must understand spatiality and emphasis, it is in a 2d plane. Theatre directors must understand how a larger 3d space is used to convey stories, especially when the world of the stage breaks out of the proscenium. Because theatre practitioners have so much to offer virtual reality--and it has so much to offer them in return--acknowledging these technological advances is crucial. VR could very well be the future of theatre.
Inquisition’s Ladies are the Coolest and I Would Fight You on This: A Celebration of Great Female Characters
A night at the theatre always gets my brain pumping. I’ve just finished watching a play by the name of Playhouse Creatures. The play, and the talkback session afterwards, emphasized the need for interesting and diverse female roles. Naturally, this got me thinking about games (because let’s be honest, everything does) and the need for more female characters. Many—not all, but at least quite a few—of the criticisms aimed at the treatment of female characters would be laid to rest if there were simply more women to choose from. Its Avengers: Age of Ultron versus Mad Max: Fury Road. The more women, the less to complain about.
Of course, it isn’t quite that simple. As Playhouse Creatures showed, these women need the opportunity to tell their stories, and the right to be more than victims. Video games do not often have multiple women telling their stories in one game. But that doesn’t mean it never happens, and when it does, it should absolutely be celebrated.
I’ve been replaying one of my favorite games, Dragon Age: Inquisition, and man—or should I say WOman (Thank you. I’ll be here all week)—does that game have some cool ladies. Although DA:I is not without its faults, it kills it on the powerful women scale. In my playthrough, the Inquisitor (the game’s protagonist and hero of the world), Hawke and the Warden (heroes of the last two games), and the leaders of Ferelden and Orlais (the countries where the game takes place) were all women. The Divine—basically the Pope— is also a woman. I really could go on. I haven’t even mentioned Leliana, Josephine, Morrigan, Calpurnia, Briala, Scout Harding… and these are just from one game. There are two others before it.
But there are three characters I would like to focus on. Let’s take a moment to celebrate our fabulous companions: Cassandra, Vivienne, and Sera!
Cassandra Allegra Portia Calogera Filomena Pentaghast, queen of cheekbones and swordplay, is one of the key players of Dragon Age: Inquisition. Without her, the inquisition would never be founded. She assumes command despite the objections of the Chantry, but these objections never arise because of her gender. Her abilities as a fighter are unparalleled (and her armor is actually practical), yet her prowess on the battlefield is born of a desire to protect. At no point does, Cassandra express a desire for violence; she only wishes to help people and bring peace to Thedas. Her struggles with the actions of the Chantry and her fellow Seekers may cause her to doubt, but her faith is always shown as a noble trait that drives her to be better. When faced with the patriarchy, Cassandra only has one response:
Vivienne, Madame de Fer, is a court mage who knows exactly what she wants. This stunning woman of color is not above working inside the system to achieve her aims. Some people might call her cold, calculating, or hungry for power, and some people might be right, but if you take the time to become her friend, you will realize what a valuable ally she really is. Her pragmatic advice—not to mention her amazing sense of style—is vital to the inquisition, and, like Cassandra, she can even be appointed Divine. Her personal quest shows her softer side, displaying her genuine love and concern for her paramour Duke Bastien, a relationship that could otherwise have been interpreted as a political machination. With so much stacked against her, its impressive that Vivienne is not afraid to use her cunning, magical ability, and femininity to realize her ambitions.
“Sera was never an agreeable girl. Her tongue tells tales of rebellion.” She is Madame de Fer’s opposite. She works against the system, not in it. As a member of the Friends of Red Jenny, her goal is to unite the little people and stick it to the nobles who want to screw them over. Psychologically abused as a child, she is capable of a lot of self-hatred—not to mention hatred of elves, magic, and nobility, but ultimately her purpose is to humble those who need humbling. As an outspoken lesbian, Sera is clearly not in the game for male pleasure. Sera is fun, impulsive, and occasionally difficult—but always in a way that makes her character more interesting. Without her, the inquisition would become yet another institution that squashes the little people. Her constant pranks provide the needed humble pie.
Of course, despite its smorgasbord of awesome females, this game has some problems. Others have complained that there should be more female companions and that Vivienne has no racial identity outside of her skin color. These complaints have validity. It should also be noted that these women get to tell their stories as side missions to the main plot; you can technically play the whole game without two of these characters ever joining your party. That being said, if you aren’t doing the companion quests, please take a moment to reevaluate your life choices before you pick up another Bioware game.
But I think the game is still worth celebrating (and not just because I love it)! It shows that there is not simply one way to be a woman through diverse portrayals of women (and that is all I really want from games). Each lady mentioned above is different but valuable to the Inquisition and the game because of their difference. These women may not be perfect, but they are complicated and interesting and permitted to be more than a token female. If that doesn’t deserve celebration, I don’t know what does.
A while back, I wrote an article about Bayonetta and fan service. In the article, I argue that Bayonetta’s over the top sexiness works and can even be empowering. The post can be found here:
Although I still agree with some of my original points, I think it is more complicated than my first attempt acknowledges, so I would like to add some thoughts now.
True, Bayonetta has agency. She is also completely unattainable by the male characters, and her most important relationships are with other women. I stand by my original statement that her sexiness can be empowering. Women should be allowed to be as sexual as they want. But characters like Bayonetta do not exist in a vacuum. Women are continually over-sexualized in games, and Bayonetta is symptomatic of this problem. Instead of a net positive, the game seems to be more like a lesser of two evils. Better a sexy heroine with agency than a sexy plot device with none. Still, neither is completely ideal. Again, I’m not against sexiness as a concept, but it is difficult to ignore the male gaze that video games seem to expect.
All of that, however, does not change my individual experience of playing Bayonetta. I felt empowered by embodying her for a short while, but I may have had to turn off some more critical parts of my brain. That doesn’t seem to accurately explain to for me, though. If we think of being a player as a kind of spect-actor, as I discussed before, then my input can change the performance. Perhaps by playing as a woman, I subvert the intended male gaze and make the game into something else entirely. Perhaps. Either way, I still love the game. I’m just still figuring out my defense of it.
The following contains massive spoilers for Life is Strange Episode 2
Theatre makes you feel. Deeply. And that is what I love so much about it. As Jill Dolan so eloquently said in her book Utopia in Performance, “Being passionately and profoundly moved in performance can be a transformative experience useful in other realms of social life. Being moved at the theatre allows us to realize that such feeling is possible, even desirable, elsewhere”.
Less often has this feeling been associated with video games. Luckily, that is changing. More and more people are acknowledging the power of games. Games can inspire all kinds of emotion (beyond frustration or anger, as the stereotypes suggest of gamers). Empathy games—games, as the name suggests, that are meant to inspire empathy—are on the rise. Empathy games often strive to connect players with experiences outside of their own, such as what it is like to be transgender or to deal with depression. These games may not be able to perfectly capture the full experience of another person or another life, but they do provide a place to feel something new and realize such feeling is desirable in other areas of life.
Although it is not considered an empathy game (and it isn’t), there was a moment in Life is Strange that affected me in the way Jill Dolan describes. For those of you who aren’t already playing it (because you should be) Life is Strange (often abbreviated as LiS) is an episodic game developed by Dontnod Entertainment. At the time of writing, four of the five episodes have been released, but it is the ending of the second that concerns me the most. You play as Max Caulfield, a high school senior who can rewind time and wants to solve the many mysteries of her town. One such mystery is Kate Marsh. Kate is being bullied for “making” a video of herself at a party, where she drunkenly kisses many strangers. Kate insists she was drugged and recalls nothing. Regardless, she is continually harassed by her schoolmates and members of her family. The result: Kate chooses to end her own life by jumping from one of the school’s buildings.
But hey, Max has rewind powers. Max manages to reverse her suicide and make it to said roof before Kate jumps. Everything should be good, right? Well, not exactly. Saving Kate strains Max’s powers, and the only way to keep Kate alive is to convince her life is worth living. In that moment, all of the decisions you have made in the game come back to haunt you. Did you stand up for Kate when she was being bullied? Did you bother to learn enough about her? Did you… Any number of things can affect the outcome of this moment.
I managed to save Kate. And I still cried. For quite a while. The moment was incredibly intense, and I cried in both relief and sadness. The effect of the scene was… profound. If it was a movie, it would have been upsetting, but as a video game, I felt culpable, like I should have kept her from that roof in the first place. I have watched well-meaning people play that scene, and fail to keep Kate from jumping. The game does not make it easy. Because in that moment, the moment of her suicide, it is too late to start considering whether or not Kate Marsh matters. In my game, Kate is alive; she is getting help and she is doing much better. Having saved her, I cannot speak to what the alternative experience is like. I just know it made me feel. Deeply.
And those feelings—the desire to be kinder, to let others know that they matter, to stand up when someone is being bullied—those feelings are desirable outside of the game.
Anti-theatre/Anti-games: A History of People Hating Things I Like
Concerns about video games (whether or not they are making us more violent, aggressive, desensitized, sexual active, socially inept—you name it) have existed for as long as there have been video games. This topic, especially the issue of violence, is not a new one. These concerns are often accompanied by talk of banning. Yet video games are not alone in facing these criticisms. In his essay “Screening Citizens”, Toby Miller (a Professor of Media and Cultural Studies whose bio will be linked below) compares the hoopla surrounding video games to the censure received by theatre centuries ago.
Anti-theatrical sentiments can be traced back all the way to Ancient Greece. Plato was of the opinion that those who wrote about or performed something were far beneath those who actually did it. Later rhetoric linked acting to lying, arguing that the theatre was deceitful because it was not “real”. In fact, the word hypocrite comes from a Greek word meaning “acting on stage”. This kind of talk has popped up in many an argument against games. There is a longstanding belief that the playing of video games is inferior to any action that involves going out and living in the “real world”, making those of us who play games also inferior. With that belief, comes the fear that by embodying something that is not ourselves, we will lose touch with who we are and with reality as a whole. In actuality, this process of embodying another—both in theatre and games—can be incredibly powerful.
Another concern raised about theatre were the potential risks of exposing people to questionable content: violence, sex, immorality, etc. Theatre and its practitioners were believed by many over the course of history to be absolute scoundrels. Exposure to them and their work was sure to inspire similar unfortunate behavior in others. Naturally, video games have received similar complaints, especially—as I said before—were violence is concerned. Just as theatre was banned at different points, there have been calls to ban video games because they are making children too violent. As Miller points out, each psychological study that claims to prove the link in quickly countered by another with opposing results. Now you may wish to interject and say the argument is over, that recent APA review has confirmed a link. To which I would respond, watch this video about said review:
I will admit my own bias; I love games, as does the woman in the video, maybe making both of us too skeptical to the APA’s claims to fairly comment. And I do believe we should concern ourselves with how both games and theatre affect us. They are powerful tools and should not be used irresponsibly. Still, it seems to me that the arguments used to censor both theatre and video games have become incredibly tired. And I’m tired of hearing them. So please, if you want to throw the word “ban” around, at least come up with something new to accompany it.
“Screening Citizens” found in Artistic Citizenship, edited by Mary Schmidt Campbell and Randy Martin
Toby Miller’s Bio: http://www.tobymiller.org/
APA Review: http://www.apa.org/news/press/releases/2015/08/violent-video-games.aspx
Also check out more Reality Check on http://www.gamespot.com/shows/reality-check/
Our new Tropes vs Women episode explores the numerous ways in which the Women as Reward trope manifests in video games. The trope occurs when women or women’s bodies are employed as rewards for player actions, a pattern which frames female bodies and sexuality as collectible or consumable and positions women as status symbols designed to validate the masculinity of presumed straight male players. We then discuss how this trope both reflects and reinforces the pervasive, socially constructed mentality of male entitlement that operates in the background of our culture.
Content Warning: This educational episode contains game footage of a graphic sexual nature.
Full transcript, links and resources available at: http://wp.me/p5WxZG-8I4
Theatre and film are consistently compared, as are film and video games, yet theatre and video games are not often discussed in tandem. Is it such a stretch to skip the middleman and take a look at theatre and video games directly? All three mediums often have a lot in common: the elements of design, the presence of actors, the emphasis on storytelling, etc. What sets video games apart is the active participation they take to play. One does not simply watch a video game, one takes on a role in the story. Ignore, for now, the existence of Let’s Plays and whatnot. Watching others play video games is an important part of the gaming community, but it is not itself gaming.
My point is that video games must be played, highlighting—in my humble opinion—their core theatricality. Video games are a performance, and gamers play a part. The clear comparison with theatre is less between gamer and playgoer and more between gamer and actor. This relationship calls to mind Augusto Boal’s spect-actor, those who are simultaneously involved in the process as both spectator and actor. Gamers play the same role. The player is asked to both watch over and participate in the game. The character may make specific choices, but you—as the player—act them out. If a character’s task is to kill, you must pull the trigger, giving a weight to the actions that simply watching lacks. Often, players are presented with choices that further affect the world of the game and make those weighty actions even weightier.
The comparison to Boal’s spect-actor may not perfect—the goal of Boal’s spect-actors was specifically to inspire social change, while a lot of video games’ main goal with their “spect-actors” is immersion (Many games do, however, tackle issues similar to Boal. These types of games will be discussed in a later article). Additionally, the spect-actor in Boal's Theatre of the Oppressed can often take any action to change the course of the narrative; options in video games are still quite limited. However, the comparison works well to underline the clear connection between video games and theatre.