Video Games and Film: Part 1

This will be the first of a series of ruminations on the distinctions between the two titular forms of media. I am interested in the subject of their differences and similarities, since they are often spoken of as rivals. I do not think they are, since they aim to achieve divergent purposes. However, their residence within the visual sphere guarantees that, at some levels, they will, and do, clash.

My first quandary is the following:

Should Video Games have "complex" main characters?

The typical knee-jerk reaction would be, "of course!" But let's ponder the issue a bit.

First of all, when I question whether or not video games should develop their protagonists, I am not suggesting that there be a similar disregard for the personalities of the supporting players. I think a video game should always strive to craft interesting characters, who behave in a human-like manner. What I do not think, is that a game should provide such emotional and psychological elaboration for the character who is being controlled by the player.

As far as I am concerned, the main character, the person who you move with the aid of a controller, should be left as vague as possible.

But why? Why should the most important entity within a video game be nothing but a "blank slate"?

The fact of the matter is that, in a video game, we can't ever really get to know the protagonist. Ergo, any attempt by the writers to make us understand him/her a tad better, should be excised completely. That is, any attempt to develop the protagonist is doomed from the start.

In a film, we get to know our hero by how he/she acts under duress.

Imagine this scene: a shoddily-dressed twenty-something boy is walking across a city plaza; suddenly, a gunfight between rival gangs erupts; a small child is left alone, screaming in the middle of it all. What does our hero do? His inner bravery suddenly emerges, and he runs over to save the small child from being pierced by a slew of bullets. In the process, our hero is shot, and he is driven to the hospital. He survives, and everybody regards him with immeasurable respect; the in-movie characters as well as the movie-watching audience.

We now know what the twenty-something boy is capable of; he reacted with maturity and boldness in the middle of a tense situation.

But how would the same scene play out in a video game?

We would, obviously, have control over the hero. Now, imagine this is an open-ended game, where our decisions alter the plot.

The gunfight erupts. You go and shield the small child from danger. Your alter ego is shot. You go the hospital and are regarded a savior and saint by the urban populace.

Through this entire process, have you really gotten to know the protagonist? Through this important moment - the sort of dangerous situation that brings out the true nature of human beings - have you actually gotten an inkling of the twenty-something boy's personality?

No, you have not. Because the character's reaction to the on-screen trauma was YOUR reaction. In effect, if anything, you have only gotten to know more about YOURSELF. What you experienced was not "empathy." You were in the character's situation, but not inside his mind. You cannot know how the character would have reacted, and you therefore cannot judge him based on what he has done, because he hasn't done anything. You did it all.

Thus, the problem with scripts that develop video game protagonists is that, when the going gets tough, you stop learning about that protagonist. Yes, I enjoy the Metal Gear Solid games, and yes, I love Solid Snake's persona. Nevertheless, I cannot help but feel that, when the big confrontations occur, when the big moments come around, the instances in which we can finally learn the most about how Snake is as a man, I am the one doing the movements, and I am therefore not watching Snake, but watching myself.

This is why I appreciate a game like Dragon Quest VIII.

I have not finished it, true. But I have spent 74 hours playing it, and I do not know a thing about the guy I'm controlling. This is, to me, a more honest gaming experience. The protagonist is simply a vessel which I'm supposed to enter, and in DQVIII there is very little back-story to hide that simple fact.