For the passed week I've been trying to write a piece about the (abysmal) state of the Republican primaries, but I feel like there isn't really anything I can say that isn't being said in the media already. As someone who follows politics, it's sort of refreshing to see that MSNBC actually makes a point I can agree with instead of spouting their usual meaningless "news" or gushing over whichever candidate promises to lower capital gains the most. But it makes writing about it that much harder because it tends to make the forum feel like an echo chamber. So let's talk about video games again!
I decided to see what all the goddamn fuss was about and downloaded a demo of Battlefield 3. I tried it at a friend's house last month but the Electronic Arts hub program (let's admit it - they ripped off of Steam and somehow made it worse) kept crashing every five minutes. Maybe EA should hire less lazy programmers and stop coding everything into web browsers. There was one amusing moment where the game crashed entirely and booted my friend to his desktop, but a large flashing icon read, "You are Playing Battlefield 3!" remained.
It brings to mind a terrifying vision of the future where we all just stare at blinking computer screens that tell us, "You are having fun, human unit 76,332,4-B! Isn't this fun!? Look at all the goddamn fun you're having, human slave, spend money!" And then I remembered that Farmville exists.
Here's why modern army games creep me out, and why the irony surrounding them is both delicious because of their relentless popularity, and terrifying when taken in context.
In any good narrative, particularly one where the hero must face death to complete his quest, the part that makes it good is that moment when we, the audience, think it's all over for them. And then, against all odds, the hero pulls the win out of his ass, trounces the enemy in the most spectacular fashion, and goes home triumphant. The most accessible example of this is, of course, the end of the first Star Wars movie when Darth Vader is about to shoot Luke's ship down. Just as our hero is about to meet his maker, Han Solo rescues him and the entire battle is decided in its final seconds. It's a very basic mechanic of storytelling that builds tension and keeps the audience rooting for the good guy, and if you pay attention, almost everything does it. And why? 'Cause it fucking works.
Modern military games, namely Battlefield 3 and the greater of two evils, Modern Warfare, kind of throw this aside. Or in their terms, shove bits of broken glass in it's mouth and then hit it with a golf club (yes, there is a YouTube link but it's 13 minutes of bullshit and I will spare you - look up at your own risk). My point is that, as the player, you never really feel sorry for the alleged hero, and there is not a sense that his life is in any real danger at any time. I mean, when you put a rag-tag group of guys in robes and tennis shoes against the biggest military in the world, squaring off against dudes with every weapon, ammunition, armor and resource imaginable available at the press of a button, feeling empathy for the latter is a little hard to swallow. With this in mind, the few minutes of the demo I played were just downright boring. I didn't care - there was some time establishing who the narrative wanted me to think the heroes were, and I didn't buy it for a second. This raises two points.
Another reason why having a symptomatic hero resonates so roundly is that it creates a connection between the fictional hero and the real live audience. We want to see someone struggle to overcome a challenge because we struggle to overcome challenges in our lives too. Sure, they aren't as dramatic as blowing up the Death Star, but the point is that it creates empathy and makes us feel that the narrative is speaking to us, on a personal level, even if it's not.
There's no reason to feel any sympathy for the player-controlled avatars of Battlefield, and the only way any kind of emphatic response can be generated is if you, the player, genuinely feel like you'd want to be in a position of that much power. So, instead of going the route that most narratives go, and playing to our sense of compassion, Battlefield kicks compassion in the taco and appeals to our inner mass-murderer.
Now before you say it, I'm going to explain why this is different than Grand Theft Auto.
In GTA, you can win in the game without getting into a single gunfight with the police, and you are generally encouraged to do so. What good is being a master criminal if you're always getting caught and can't walk anywhere without making scene? The things that got all of the attention in the news were almost exclusively the result of the "Hot Coffee" easter egg (where the player simulates having sex with a prostitute - but it was a joke [albeit bad and extremely sexist] added by the developers and not part of the actual game), and players using cheats to get an unlimited supply of tanks to fight the cops. These aren't parts of the core game and in order to play it within context, the player can't use them. If they do, the game stops being a game and becomes a toy - but that is another argument entirely.
Around the height of GTAs popularity, many people in the media were calling it a "murder simulator"; a term which goes back to the days of Doom. It was wrong in both cases and is generally wrong in the case of all video games. If GTA simulates anything, it is a very Goodfellas-inspired, Hollywood-stylized mob life. Whatever your personal objection to the violence (and believe me, I have a big fucking problem with it), it isn't the reason the game exists.
Battlefield, however, is about as close to the murder simulator as you're going to get. The most disturbing part of the game is a bit where you take the role of a gunner on a support aircraft. A battle rages in the sand of Generic-Muslim-Desert-Country-Stan (cough-Iran-cough) below, and you have to blow up enemy armor before it reaches the scene. At no time are you in any danger, and if the enemy tanks break through your covering fire, the game ends and you have to start over, so there is no dynamic environment - only victory or victory that takes slightly longer. You are so high up the entire battle is fought through a gunner's scope, and as little grey blips scatter from exploding troop carriers, your co-gunner giggles about the ones that are running for their lives, totally at the the mercy of you and an infinite number of machine gun rounds and bombs.
I guess my point is that I don't really understand who this game is for. I see the obvious appeal to 13-year-old boys and Ed Gein, but beyond that, there's no situation there except some kind of power trip with a big splash of ripped-from-the-headlines grit. There's no challenge in it, or context with how it relates to the narrative or anything else - just the simple joy of blowing some motherfuckers to pieces. And unlike Luke blowing up the Death Star, there's no way to even feel like the hero is justified in doing so. What threat do a bunch of dudes in pickups with 30-year-old rifles and limited supplies pose to a fleet of tanks, helicopters, artillery and heavily armored infantry?
I really hate to say this because, because I genuinely feel that gaming is a legitimate form of expression, but those idiots who complained about Doom and GTA have finally been proved a bit right. Which brings me to my last point: where the fuck is all the outrage? Where are the bobble heads and deranged parents going back and forth about how Battlefield and Modern Warfare turned their precious snowflake into a 5th grade Rambo?
Oh right, these games kill brown people in deserts, not zombies or monsters or fictional gangsters.
So we're cool.
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