• 23Jun 08

  When games were Emo

  Have we entered a new era of emotionless games? I'll approach this topic from the perspective of a long-time Nintendo supporter, but I believe the implications apply to other games companies as well, and maybe to the industry as a whole.

  There was a time when emotions played a central role in the top video games. It wasn't very long, and it certainly could be dismissed as only brief moment in video game history, but I think now is the perfect time to go back to that moment and take another look, because it has relevance to today's game industry.

  About ten years ago, Nintendo frequently used the advertising claim that its games would invite gamers into emotional experiences. They would make you feel something. Nowadays Nintendo says its purpose for existing is to create massively accessible entertainment. Emotional content is not mentioned, and one may even reach the conclusion that emotional content stands in the way of accessibility. Look at Nintendo's top sellers today...MarioKart, WiiFIt, SmashBros. These games easily represent the most mechanical, competitive, unemotional experiences available among Nintendo first-party games.

  Now let's look at the other consoles. Halo, GTA, Gears of War. Top sellers, but not a single emotion to be found in any of them. In fact, these games seem to thrive on either ignoring (Halo) or destroying (GTA) any emotional connection to the characters. To be Emo is a slur.

  Now let's go back in time to around 1998. Ocarina of Time, Resident Evil, Final Fantasy VII: these games defined gaming for that era, and all relied on strong emotions to lure in gamers and get them to pay attention. These games asked you to contemplate the ravages of time, pee your pants as your woefully under-prepared squad of STARS fought over-powered zombies, or to cry when your favorite character died. You were supposed to care about the characters, and that pressure to care made the games stronger. Majora's mask, after Ocarina of Time, only further emphasized the importance of emotions in driving home a game's relevance to gamers.

  Now let's look at the possible exceptions gamers might bring up to show that emotions still run strong in video games. I can think of a few. Bioshock, MGS, maybe Halflife. Really the list is very short, and all of these really only ask you to THINK about the characters, rather than actually care about them. Solid Snake is not exactly the type of guy you FEEL for. And little sisters, no matter how cute, are generic and lack individualization. I think Halflife falls in line with these games, striving to provoke thought, rather than an emotional attachment to characters.

  Some games still do evoke emotion, but they are few and far between and no longer define their epochs. Think of Twilight Princess and Doom III. Both of these games do actually at least ASK you to care about their characters, whether calling upon the gamer to relate to your Marine's anxiety and courage as he fights through hordes of demons that tore everyone else to shreds, or asking you to develop a relationship with the strange Midna, an ally who at first seems quite domineering but ultmately becomes a poignant friend.

  If you were playing games back in 1998, do you remember the first time you exited the Temple of Time in Ocarina of Time, and saw, under a purple and black sky, a town square, previously beautifully illuminated in afternoon light and bustling with activity, turned into a herd of screaming zombies? It made you feel something, and not just because the visuals were scary. You felt something for those people whose lives had been cut short by Gannon's rise, and it made you want to get him.

  We need games like that, games that actually care about their characters and ask you to do the same.

  If you don't believe me, let's go back to beginning of video gaming itself. Although I started this blog posting by pointing out the differences between 2008 and 1998, the point can be made just as well by looking at the early eighties. An industry built on relatively impersonal, mechanical "skill-grinders" like pac-man and galaga was energized and revitalized and strengthened by the introduction of a character named Mario, an overweight, unattractive plumber who bounced around in an imaginative Mushroom Kingdom. That's hilarious. And besides introducing better mechanics than its industry-precipitating forebears, Shigeru Miyamoto's genre-founding installation gave gamers, for maybe the first time, someone to stress out about, worry about, find amusing, maybe even like. It made all the difference.

  • Posted Jun 23, 2008 12:09 pm GMT
  • Category: Editorial
  • 1 Comment
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