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March 29, 2003

Game heroes: confessions of a fanboy

It's Saturday night and I'm hunched over the keyboard writing about video game heroes. Join me for a geeky, enthusiastic, and slightly pretentious look at a type of hero that deserves far more attention than it currently receives. (If you're my future in-laws, I'm afraid it's true: your daughter is marrying a total nerd.)

Mario and Luigi. Lara Croft. Duke Nukem. Gordon Freeman. Guybrush Threepwood. Link. Jim Raynor and Sarah Kerrigan. Samus Aran. The Nameless One.

If you recognized more than three of the above names, you're probably a gamer. They're the names of imaginary characters--virtual alter-egos who, for the sizeable percentage of Americans that grew up playing computer and video games, showcase the virtues of heroism as strongly as any Hollywood action avenger or pop-fiction protagonist. Like the heroes of literature or film, they span the range of character archetypes--some are goofy or comical, others over-the-top and ubercool; still others are the everyman, finding strength to meet an unasked-for challenge. They're video game heroes, and while their faces and attitudes are stamped permanently into the memories of gamers throughout the world, they've managed to avoid any serious notice or engagement by the critics of popular culture or the experts of academia.

I've never accepted the conventional wisdom that video or computer games (hereafter referred to as simply "video games") are merely passive entertainment, an all-glitz-no-substance means of whiling away an afternoon. While there is much to be said about the carthartic and entertainment value of video games (and indeed many games, either through mediocrity or deliberate intent, never rise beyond the level of "brain candy"), I tend to approach games with the same level of seriousness I would bring to a movie or a novel. Booting up a computer game for the first time is like watching the opening scenes of a film or reading the prologue of a book: I'm filled with eagerness to meet the story's characters, excitement at the prospect of experiencing firsthand the product of a skilled artisan's imagination, and anticipation at the thought of meeting and overcoming what challenges the game will place before me. Central to the experience of a truly great game is the cast of characters who participate in and create the story--while many games get away with invisible protagonists or cardboard characters, the greatest games are focused around heroes whose personalities, quirks, and abilities capture our imaginations and inspire us to immerse ourselves in the world as they perceive it. The greatest game heroes even transcend the boundaries of their gameworlds and become icons for entire genres or styles, just as Indiana Jones embodies cinematic pulp heroics or James Bond embodies suave espionage antics.

All this is not so much to argue a point as to paint a picture of my mindset in reading the book 1000 Game Heroes, a coffee-table tome I perused and purchased some weeks ago. The cover--a depiction of Lara Croft wielding her trademark bemused smirk and Desert Eagle--caught my attention as I strolled past the "Games" section of Barnes and Noble. Inching my way past a small horde of adolescent males digging through game strategy guides in search of cheat codes to use in their favorite games, I snatched a copy of the hefty tome and flipped through it. I was amazed. A few minutes later I was on my way home, poorer by a good chunk of change but looking forward to diving into a book devoted to that most wondrous, most neglected of topics: the game hero. I won't attempt a full review of the book here, but I do invite you to come along with me as I recount some of the thoughts 1000 GH inspired as I read it.

My first impression upon paging through the book--a few hundred full-color, glossy pages of screenshots and concept artwork from several dozen relatively recent games--was giddy amazement at the sheer imaginative wealth represented by video games. Before viewing 1000 GH, I had never given conscious thought to the simply massive number of games that have graced monitors and televisions since the 1970s; but this book featured a huge number of characters and faces--and those drawn only from games released in the last four or five years! There, laid out in all its digital glory, was a sampling of the range of heroes with which gamers have identified for years, lavishing upon them the same level of devotion that movie fanatics offer their favorite Hollywood stars: there are funny heroes, angry heroes, curious heroes, vengeful heroes, timid heroes, tragic heroes, everyday heroes, elite heroes, over-the-top heroes. Some of the characters portrayed were little more than cardboard cutouts designed to be taken lightly or at face value; others were complex and multi-faceted personalities with fully-fleshed-out histories behind them and fateful destinies ahead of them. Many turns of the page were accompanied by a mental exclamation of pleasant surprise: Yes, I remember him! and Of course, who could forget her?--nostalgic joy at seeing my favorite heroes included by the book's editor (along with the inevitable disappointment that other favorites weren't included).

I grew up with many of these characters, in the same sense that I grew up with the heroes of Middle-Earth, Narnia, Dune, and Prydain. Some of them are great characters in a near-literary sense; others would never stand up to serious scrutiny--but like the protagonists of Star Wars, they're simply too appealing, too likeable, too fun to be clouded by lofty intellectual criticism of their artistic flaws. They're simply embedded in my imagination, and my life has been infinitely more fun with them along for the ride.

For reminding me of the simple, almost indescribable wonder of games, I owe 1000 GH my thanks. Where the book falls short, however, is in its failure to scratch the surface of its gorgeous images in search of the more interesting truth beneath. The questions I find most illuminating are ones that the book never bothers to ask, content as it is with simple descriptions of games. Why do we identify with these heroes? How can an imaginary hero with little in-game dialogue or personalization evoke such fascination in the mind of gamers? What archetypes shape the sorts of heroes that appear in games? What factors distinguish the truly great game heroes from the forgettable ones? How do game heroes compare to their literary and cinematic counterparts? Why has it taken so long for games match the level of character depth we find in good books and movies? Why do so many people hold such low storytelling and artistic expectations for games (a self-fulfilling prophecy that has hindered the artistic development of the entire medium)? Why have there been so few real explorations into the narrative potential of games? What do our game heroes tell us about our values and our imaginations? How is it that I can remember the names and backgrounds of dozens of game heroes from 15 years ago, but would be hard-pressed to name more than a handful of characters from a movie I watched last night?

I don't know. I hope that society--gamers and non-gamers alike--devotes more time in the future to answering some of these questions. In the meantime, I'll be going about my everyday life--enjoying time with friends, plugging away at work, pursuing my interests, exercising my imagination where I can--reading good books, watching good movies, and playing good games. And accompanying me through it all, living on in the back of my mind in that mental space allotted to memorable characters I've encountered in my reading, writing, and gaming, will be the game heroes I've come to know over the years. Game on!

Note: the heroes named at the beginning of this article hail from the following games: Mario and Luigi--Super Mario Brothers and its sequels; Lara Croft--Tomb Raider; Duke Nukem--Duke Nukem (surprisingly enough); Gordon Freeman--Half-Life; Guybrush Threepwood--the Monkey Island games; Link--The Legend of Zelda and its sequels; Jim Raynor and Sarah Kerrigan--Starcraft; Samus Aran--the Metroid series; The Nameless One--Planescape: Torment.

Another note: I'll try to compile a list of my personal favorite game heroes for a future post.

March 22, 2003

Saturday night musings

So I'm back from the day's visit to Chicago--maybe my last trip for quite a while! The next time I'll be in Chicagoland it will be with my family and a moving truck for the purpose of relocating Michele to GR. The thought of actually being in the same state as the love of my life is making me giddy with joy!

So on that marginally coherent note, I offer these random observations.

  • In a bit over two months, I will be married to my best friend. How cool is that! Can I hear a collective awwwwwww from the audience, please?

  • I watched Seven (er, that's "Se7en" for the uber-cool amongst you) this weekend. I was quite pleasantly surprised--it was an excellent movie in almost every respect, although it was also quite unsettling. I'll write up some of my thoughts on the film and post them here in the next few days as time permits.
  • I note that Atlas Games is offering their classic RPG Ars Magica for free in PDF format. I've never played the game--which I believe is about wizards in historical Europe?--but friends Ed and Jon assure me that it's worth checking out. Good deal!
  • It's AD 2003. Why don't we have battlemechs yet?

Have a great weekend!

Vae victis

Well, it looks like many of my fellow bloggers are posting comments about the Iraq situation, so I figure I might as well put in my two cents. I wholeheartedly support the U.S. attack, and I am proud of my government for weathering criticism and the uncertainties of war in pursuit of a higher good. And I guess that's all I really have to say on that subject.

March 16, 2003

Dear editor

One of my favorite little weekend routines is reading the Sunday morning paper. Each Sunday morning, I bleerily stumble out of bed and drag in the bulging Sunday edition of the Muskegon Chronicle, drop it on the coffee table, and proceed to make my way systematically through its myriad sections. Like most people, I imagine, I have a set order for doing so: first check the comics (never mind that they're not all that funny), then look for the Best Buy insert to see what enticing goodies are on sale this week, then skip back to the front page headlines to make sure that I haven't missed any Major World Events such as the Apocalypse. And then, after I've spent a few minutes on each of these sections, I make my way inevitably to... the Editorial Page.

The Sunday morning editorial page is a much more interesting experience than the weekday editorial page, as the Sunday version covers a full two pages and has all sorts of extra room for those delightful little glimpses into the soul of America: letters to the editor. Each week, I bravely read through the two-dozen-odd letters submitted by earnest Americans to the editors of the Muskegon Chronicle. And after several years of reading said letters, I have come to realize that there are actually only about six types of people who write into small-town newspapers; and rare is the day that all six are not represented in some form on among the letters to the editor.

I've tried to identify these six types of letter-writers. Below, I've listed each type along with a sample quote and a brief overview of the psychological motivations that prompt them to write letters again and again to the newspaper editor.

  1. The Outraged Subscriber
    Quote:
    "I've been a faithful reader for over twenty years, but after reading your biased, unprofessional, and hateful March 3 story on the library staffing problems, I am cancelling my subscription."
    Personality profile: You watched for years as the Chronicle has grown increasingly biased against the things you like, making a mockery out of the very concept of fair journalism. They never miss an opportunity to portray your favorite people/things/institutions in a bad light, and this is the last straw. You're leaving this sorry excuse for a paper, and you aren't looking back.
  2. The Embittered Victim
    Quote:
    "To the person in the Wal-Mart line who stole my wallet on Thursday, you should be ashamed of yourself. I know you stole my wallet because I remember putting it down while I paid the cashier, and when I looked again it was gone. People like you make me weep for the state of this sorry world."
    Personality profile: You realized your wallet was missing when you got home from Wal-Mart on Thursday... and then you remembered the suspicious-looking person in line behind you who must have taken it when you were writing out the check for the cashier! How petty can you possibly get? They may have escaped the hand of legal justice, but they won't escape the pangs of conscience they'll suffer when they read your letter on the editorial page.
  3. The Local Politicker
    Quote:
    "The Spring Lake city council is a hive of corruption, scandal, and greedy self-interest and is planning to sell out our beautiful town to their big bosses in Lansing. Do your duty and vote "yes" on the Recall Vote this Friday!"
    Personality profile: You don't know how that conniving creep swindled his way into the Spring Lake city council, but you aren't going to sit by while he sells out his community to those slimy lawyer-politicians in the state capitol! Election results be damned--you're fully behind this latest move to force a Recall Vote to get that con artist out of office, and your letter to the editor will open your fellow citizens' eyes to the evil that has tainted the heart of their city government.
  4. The Self-Righteous Crusader
    Quote:
    "Our so-called "president" and his junta of fascists are dragging this country into ruin with their bloodthirsty war-for-oil schemes. Call your congressman today and tell them that you oppose the imperialistic butchering of innocent civilians just to line the pocketbooks of Big Business!"
    Personality profile: How can the people of this country be so blind? Is the Nazi-like evil of the current administration not clear to all? The people have got to know the truth: that the current administration is hellbent on stifling freedom of speech, destroying the environment, and murdering children--all just to make a quick buck. Your well-reasoned letter to the editor will open the eyes of your fellow Muskegon residents!
  5. The Insane Rambler
    Quote:
    "We are so great we need our own rock and roll band! This whole thing, this movement, this surge, this awakening and renaissance, this wanting our future to be a certain way. This is the wave! Catch the wave!" [actual quote from a letter in today's paper]
    Personality profile: The ideas! You've got so many of them that it's sometimes hard to sort them all out, especially with those voices always murmuring in the back of your head. And to think they said you were crazy. Crazy, can you believe it? You've been writing letters to the editor almost daily for over fifteen years now and you know your ideas are appreciated. They can call you what they like, but you're going to continue sharing your insights with the readers of the Chronicle as long as they keep printing your letters.
  6. The Civic Do-Gooder
    Quote:
    "I'd like to thank the ladies of the First Presbyterian Church for their wonderful food drive program over the holiday season. You did a great job. And I'd like to thank the Chronicle for the wonderful front page story about the food drive."
    Personality profile: Of all the letter-writers whose work appears on the editorial page, you have the best heart. When people do good in this sorry world, they ought to be recognized for it. While most readers of the Chronicle don't know about the sacrifices the First Presbyterian ladies made for that food drive, you're going to step right up to the plate and let everyone know about it. Maybe your letter will inspire others to do good as well.

There are probably other types out there writing letters to the editor, but the above six seem to account for at least 90% of the missives that appear on my local paper's editorial page. While I'm not much of a letter-writer myself, I do have a certain appreciation for the zeal that prompts everday Americans to sit down and pen such heartfelt messages--messages too important not to be read by the entire local community. Way to go, my fellow Americans.

March 15, 2003

A beautiful day in the neighborhood

Every so often, I find myself wondering exactly why on earth anyone would choose to willingly live in a state like Michigan, which bows beneath the burden of gray, listless winter for most of the year. Then a day like today comes along and reminds me why I'm still here: there is simply nothing in the world so gorgeous as the first hints of a coming spring making their first tentative appearance from beneath mounds of melting snow. Today I took a drive with the car windows rolled down for the first time in forever. It's not spring quite yet, but I can't imagine there's much kick left in Old Man Winter after a nice warm day like today.

March 11, 2003

Bill's Blog; or, Zorro vs. the Marines

My esteemed associate Bill has now joined us in the wild and wooly world of blogging. Jolly good show! Bill is one of my closest California friends from way back in the day. One of my fondest memories of Bill dates back to a Halloween when we were kids in 4th or 5th grade. We were getting ready to go trick-or-treating; I was dressed up as Zorro and Bill was dressed up like a Marine. We got into a pretend swordfight--except Bill was using his grandfather's actual military sword, and I was using a fake plastic sword from Target. I think a concerned parent put an end to that after blood (mine) was drawn.

A fun trip down memory lane, eh? You should definitely go check out his blog. It looks great, Bill! Awesome to have you online.

March 9, 2003

Armageddon it (WW2 remix)

I came across an interesting quote this weekend:

At present, the prophecies of Nostradamus, a sixteenth century physician who uncannily saw through time, are of growing interest. The predictions of this man have amazed millions because of their accuracy in foretelling, among other things, the present war and its outcome.
--from a book review in the January 1942 issue of Military Review

Fascinating. Other books reviewed in the magazine featured titles like Hitler Cannot Conquer Russia and My New Order (the latter a collection of Hitler speeches). I love history.

March 6, 2003

Life after the Fall

Humans have attached special significance to the yearly cycle of the seasons from time immemorial. Ancient religions centered elaborate spiritual ceremonies around the transition between seasons; and even in our enlightened postmodern world, it is difficult to deny the magic that infuses the quarterly shift from one season to the next.

I myself am not immune to this magic, and have my own special ritual to help me process and appreciate the seasons--particularly the season of Winter. Exactly once per year, I undergo this ritual during the winter months. While the exact timing of the ritual is determined at random by the inscrutable hands of Fate, the ritual always occurs sometime during the winter months, and after several years of undergoing the ritual I am starting to interpret it as a symbol that Old Man Winter is reaching the end of his days. I am referring to what I have come to call "The Fall."

The Fall is exactly that: a physical fall, precipitated by the interaction between my foot and a patch of previously undetected ice. But this is no ordinary fall--not your typical stumble or slip. The Fall is truly epic in scope and can occur only once (we hope) per year.

The Fall is epic enough that nobody witnessing it is likely to forget it for years to come. It is no graceful drop-to-the-ground--oh, no. The Fall is wild, uncontrollable, loud, and is invariably accompanied by the crazed flailing of my limbs and inarticulate (and unanswered) cries to the gods above to spare me, please just once, from the dread fate that is unfolding for me.

The Fall can be recognized (and distinguished from average, run-of-the-mill, lower-case falls) because it will invariably feature all of the following characteristics:

  1. I (hereafter referred to as "The Chosen One") will be wearing the maximum possible number of white-colored articles of clothing at the time of The Fall.

  2. The Fall always occurs when The Chosen One is least expecting it. In fact, it has been known to wait to spring its deadly trap until The Chosen One decides that he has successfully evaded his fate and foolishly believes himself to be "home free," with Spring right around the corner.

  3. The Fall is utterly and completely grace-less. That is, The Chosen One is forced to expend an enormous amount of effort, including wild gestures, awkward contortions, panicked body twists, frantic prayers for mercy, and (if family members or fellow church-goers are present) the utterance of shocking obscenities. The efforts are never able to avert The Fall, however, and in fact only serve to increase its comic effect on witnesses.

  4. The Fall, defined as the the period of time between The Chosen One's contact with the ice and the moment his battered body comes to a full and complete stop on the ground, is a variable. The base time is 10 seconds, modified by the following environmental conditions:

    • The Chosen One skipped church earlier that week: +3 seconds
    • The Fall is witnessed by bystanders: +1 seconds per bystander
    • The bystanders are female: +1 per female (cumulative with above modifier)
    • The Chosen One has, within the previous 24 hours, boasted that he has made it all the way through the winter without falling on ice even once: +5 seconds
    • The Chosen One has a vested interest in impressing anyone within visual range: +3 seconds

  5. Recovering from The Fall is no simple matter of simply standing up again. Standing up again can occur only after 2d4 failed efforts to clamber to one's feet on the treacherous ice, only to slip halfway through the manuver and trigger another fall. Each bystander within visual range of The Fall increases by one the number of failed attempts that must be suffered.

  6. The Chosen one will be carrying a precious item which will be hurled 20+ feet in a random direction, if possible striking a bystander. The item will not be destroyed by The Fall but will be permanently stained with mud and dirty snow as an eternal reminder to The Chosen One of his fatal hubris.

As you may have surmised: today was the day I took The Fall. With this last ritual of winter complete, we may at long last look ahead to a glorious spring. It's not easy being the Chosen One--but I bear my burden with honor and not a little pride. Behold--I bring you tidings of winter passing, and of spring approaching.

March 5, 2003

Two more join the ranks

It's a day for grand celebrations--good friends Jon and Kim (she's the freewheelin' one) are now contributing to the fast-paced world of blogging. Michele and I met Jon and Kim at... at... I can't say it, at that horrible horrible place where they made me study all those ancient languages. Jon and I had the same advisor, who shall not be named lest his attention be drawn and the gaze of his dread Eye fall upon me. Ha-ha. At any rate, you really ought to make reading their blogs part of your daily routine.

March 4, 2003

But... but... where is my F-15?

Amazing news. Today, I witnessed with my own eyes something that previously existed only in the mad dreams of crazed prophets. That's right--today I saw a television advertisement for a men's razor blade that did not contain any of the following:

  • a speeding jet fighter aircraft, practically radiating testosterone from its metallic skin, shrieking around the skies at full afterburner before being transformed (along with all of its manly power) into a men's razor blade.
  • a grinning blond, clad only in a bath towel, who emerges from the shadows of the bathroom only to drape herself over an impossibly-muscled male who has just finished shaving.
  • a subtle combination of the above two elements.

I'm feeling lost and confused. Since I previously based my razor-blade purchases entirely on the implied promise that either an F-15 or a grinning blond would instantaneously appear in my life upon my employment of said razor, I guess I'll have to go back to the drawing board and try desperately to find some other way of finding out which brand of razor is manly enough to merit my purchase. I'll let you know how that turns out. (Or maybe not.)

March 3, 2003

After action report

Another weekend gone, another couple days closer to The Wedding. Woo hoo! Ahem. At any rate, this weekend turned out to be relatively interesting. Saturday was occupied with a LAN party at Ron's (Ron also photo-documented the party, as can be seen at his blog), which of course meant 7-8 hours of UT2k3. A truly amazing game. Mostly team games, mostly instagib (=one shot, one kill). I daresay most of us managed fairly decent showings; the only exception being that awkward time during a Capture the Flag match when one of the players (who shall remain nameless) broke down in tears and wouldn't come out of his hiding place with the flag for fear of getting shot at. It took a while but we coaxed him back into the game after he exacted promises from the rest of us that we would each give him a free shot at us before beginning any combat encounter with him, and that we wouldn't use any weapons more powerful than the pistol while fighting him. At any rate, much fun was had, for which I must thank the gracious host Ron and my fellow gamers. I was especially impressed by Ron's dramatic use of the supervillain phrase "Find him and kill him!" repeatedly throughout the game.

After the gaming session wound down, I went to a concert at Calvin at which the pianist Alon Goldstein performed a number of obscure but interesting pieces. He was simply amazing; and I have never seen a more expressive piano player--instead of sitting stonily on the piano bench while his fingers manuvered around the keyboard, he kept his entire body in motion throughout the pieces he was playing--wildly hammering the keys during dramatic moments, cautiously pecking at them during subdued passages, and emphatically mirroring the mood and tone of the music with facial expressions and movements. It was an enjoyable evening for which I have Jay to thank, although had his girlfriend Elizabeth been in town, I rather suspect I would not have been his first choice for the concert date. I did reflect briefly that while Mr. Goldstein had no doubt been practicing that afternoon in preparation for his marvelous demonstration of musical skill, I had probably been chortling at how funny it looked when you shoot at people with a rocket launcher and it blows them up real good in UT2k3. I'd risk a few reflections on the relative merit of our respective afternoon activities, but I suspect I'd just end up regretting it.

Which wraps up my weekend, more or less--about as good as a weekend could hope to get when it's already been fatally marred by the fact that it didn't include a visit with Michele. Hope your weekend was as enjoyable as mine was. Carry on then.