Ralph Koster makes an interesting point in making the distinction that “Games are not stories.” He goes on to expand on this idea, saying that “Games are external–they are about people’s actions. Stories (good ones, anyway) are internal–they are about people’s emotions and thoughts” (88). I thought this was interesting because a good story or book is usually one in which the main characters are dynamic. In most video games, however, the main character is static and the advancement of the plot is what makes it exciting and worthwhile. Despite attempts by many game designers to add a narrative component, it is hard for most gamers, I believe, to connect with the main “character” of the game on an emotional level.
Koster talks about how games are “dressed” up from their most basic forms; in many games there is a “protagonist” but, in reality, it is merely a “dressed” up “missile” reminiscent of the most basic Atari game format we discussed in class. When one plays Laura Croft: Tomb Raider, does he or she become the infamously disproportionate woman? When one plays Grand Theft Auto, does one become a criminal? Games, Koster says, “train us to see underlying mathematical patterns” (84). His point in saying that games are not stories connects to his point that games are not what they are “dressed” to be.
In class we talked briefly about games and morals; Koster talked about how Deathrace doesn’t teach people to run over pedestrians and Pac-Man doesn’t teach people to “eat dots and be scared of ghosts.” Because games are not stories, they lack the capacity to have the emotional impact of, say, a movie or book. To succeed in a game, one must complete certain tasks and follow the game’s rules. In Grand Theft Auto, for instance, one must complete many tasks that are surely immoral and unjust, things that most people would never consider doing outside of the game. The “dressing” of the game is part of what makes the game fun, but is not what the game is about. In our in-class discussion, Professor Sample brought up the game RapeLay. Obviously, rape is totally immoral and devastating in reality. But would the actions required by the game, in the context of “dressing” up mathematical problems, really be that much worse than a game in which one has to kill or steal?
If you really believe that games can not incite the sort of emotional reaction seen from books and movies, I urge you to play Braid.
Braid was the other game I was considering that all of us play this semester, but I finally settled on Portal. I’ll be teaching Braid next fall, though, in a literature class.
I appreciate your decision. While I sincerely believe that everyone should play Braid, much like everyone should read great epics of literature like 1984 or Fahrenheit 451, I agree that it’s more suited for a literature class. The power of Braid comes from it’s written narrative, while Portal is more about emergent narrative. I also appreciate that we’ll be able to discuss Portal in depth, as I feel like there was much that I missed on my play through.
I think it depends on the game whether or not you become emotionally attached to your character. When playing a shooting game, you know that once you die you will restart from your latest checkpoint. Therefore why would you have any emotional ties to your character if you don’t even care that he gets brutally murdered by a grenade knowing you will respawn instantly. The Sims on the other hand is completely different. I had a small addiction to The Sims growing up and when you’re character dies in the game in a kitchen fire, he or she is gone from the game forever. I feel like I had a great emotional connection to my characters in this case. This is because of all the time I’d spent getting my characters attributes up and I know that if he dies, there will be no respawning.
So this poses the question, what makes one get emotionally attached to a video game? I read an article online about the game Heavy Rain. In the end of the game you are left with the option to either kill your son or save him. The author of the article said that he felt a very strong emotional connection to the main character because of the fact that the dad is placed in such a tough situation. He even commented that someone went and hugged their own son after playing the video game. Clearly that person was feeling very emotional due to the game. The author says that anyone with kids would probably feel an emotional connection to the main character. This game I would say is an example of a narrative that can connect to people on an emotional level. The reasoning behind that is because of the loss of a life. People get emotional over death. But not just any death, death of an innocent person or unexpected death. In shooting games you expect to die, or you expect to kill people. In The Sims you don’t expect to die. That may be an explanation as to why you become emotional connected to your character.
While playing games we, as the player, are in control of action. Press ‘A’ and the character jumps, ‘B’ and the character runs. What we are not in control of, however, are the thoughts and emotions of the character. Whether or not the plot of the game should produce a certain reaction from a character, the actions we select do not necessarily reflect these emotions. Even if Princess Peach is stolen by Bowzer in Paper Mario, we can force Mario to simply stroll around town for the rest of his life if we so chose.
A story being described as internal is a result of this lack of control. The character’s thoughts are revealed to us and his actions follow the process that they should. Princess Peach is captured; Mario is outraged and panicked; he storms across the land in a quest to get her back. The characters make sense, we know their emotions, and through their actions we are able to relate to them.
However, I do believe that the line can be somewhat blurred. In Every Day the Same Dream, for example, we were not really in control of the characters actions, but rather forced to do the same routine day after day much as the character would have been. In this way we are able to empathize with the character internally.