I’m so sick of Evil, I could murder an innocent child! — Part Un

This post, like all of my ramblings, has to do with specific complaints about videogame plots and story premises in general. (Don’t worry, I’ll try to keep the use of the word ‘narrative’ to a minimum.) First, on my list of narrative annoyances: Evil. As the title of this piece suggests I’m sick of it. Every game, (and movie, or popular novel) it seems, features some sort of an ancient, newly discovered, supra-galactic, underground, Mayan, divine, satanic, it-was-man, undead, insectoid, magic, mechanical, cybernetic, EVIL force, character, or organization bent on destroying everything in existence. Worlds, galaxies, universes and parallel universes are ceaselessly under threat of obliteration. Existence as any one has ever known it or imagined it is constantly in jeopardy from some conscious Agent of Doom. This ensures that the stakes are always at their highest. It’s a formula that goes something like this: “So, what are we gambling for today Johnny?” “Oh, not much, just EVERYTHING, EVERYWHERE, EVERYWHEN!”

Within my complaint about evil, hides another related problem: why are all videogame plot conflicts global? Why can’t we have a friggin’ game once where the plot is entirely local, with conflicts between individuals or even countries that affect only the immediate context, while managing to remain exciting and making the audience care about the fate of the characters? I know this is possible. I’ve seen it done. Fire Emblem: Path of Radiance pulls it off, as well as a number of other games. But unfortunately, in this case as in so many others, the exception proves the rule. Most games, even the likes of my beloved Mass Effect, fall under the former category where one man or one group faces pure destructive evil to save the world. Even the otherwise wonderful and complex plot of Fire Emblem: Radiant Dawn, the sequel to PoR, fell victim to this structure. (After hours of ambiguity, it turns out that the real force behind everything was an evil, destructive goddess.)

Now, please, don’t confuse my rant against distorted stakes and scale of events with a bashing of the Epic as a genre. The central feature of the Epic is indeed the concept of heroism but the stakes of adventures in the genre of the Epic are more often local or national rather than global. (An interesting argument can be made here re: the fact that at the time of the invention of the Epic the ‘national’ was perceived to be virtually the same as the ‘global.’ But we’ll leave this for some other forum.)

And so the two ideas, (great evil and global stakes) seem indivisible, at least as far as the plots of most games are concerned. On the surface the connection seems understandable. Would it make sense if an ancient source of evil arose only to decimate some poor fisherman and then go back to whence it came? Or would it feel believable if the existence of all reality were threatened by some minor ambiguous agent, perhaps the very same fisherman? I suppose some might say that such premises would make for boring stories.

For me, the answer to both of the above questions is a resounding ‘yes.’ I’d find it much more interesting if the fisherman somehow threatened the world. (As in Dr. Strangelove: or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb) And, I’d find it equally interesting if an all powerful force of evil did not mess with the ‘World’ but rather a singular individual (like in Faust). As a matter of fact once a superhuman force of evil starts threatening, everything, everywhere, everywhen, I usually start to check out of the story. The irony is that as a result of the super inflated stakes the writer neuters all the tension. Unless you are actually naïve enough to think that the plot might end with the end of the world. So, at that point all that’s left is to become a passive observer of an easily anticipated conclusion, instead of an engaged and invested player/reader/moviegoer, at least as far as the plot is concerned. And that is terrible storytelling.

So, at the very least, I am arguing for a division of the two above mentioned concepts; at most I’m saying neither is necessary for a riveting plot. Take heed game developers or I shall break the seal to release the mighty Quetzalcoatl and let him reign destruction upon the creation.

To be Continued… (The next installment, ‘I’m so sick of Good Guys, I could arrest a pedophile!,’ will feature rants about plot devices that affirm confidence in sources of authority, as well as the root of the problem: our over inflated sense of agency.)