InsaneBear

Feature: The ultimate exclusive: Examining the emotional spectrum of video games

So amid all the chaos that was GDC 2009, I managed to read a really great article on GameSpot about the societal impact of video games. One line stood out to me more than any other: “(Will) Wright also mentioned an experience he had with Lionhead’s Black & White, where he beat up his god creature ‘just to see what would happen.’ With the creature eventually bloodied and crying, Wright said that he legitimately felt pangs of guilt, an emotion that he couldn’t have gotten from other forms of media, such as movies.”

This anecdote got me to thinking about the unique situation video games are in compared to other story telling mediums. Why is it that I’ve never cried in empathy at the end of a game but I’ve shouted in triumph? How come I don’t really care about my video game comrades’ life stories but I feel a sense of duty to them as their leader? Well, what video games have that film and literature don’t is interactivity. And with that comes some unique pros and cons. But what’s most important about it is the fact that emotion in video games is not sympathy or empathy directed towards others, but the player’s own feelings. We don’t feel bad for the character who lost his friends in battle, we feel bad because we lost our friends in battle. That my friends, is the ultimate exclusive because video games can have emotions that no other medium can.

Now, before I get on my high horse and preach the righteousness of video games, there’s a whole history of terrible story telling we have to account for. Sure, a good portion of our industry’s history hasn’t actually been devoted to telling a story that’s anything more than a reason to move forward, but the games that have tried to manipulate our emotions haven’t exactly done the greatest job ever. Just last month the InsaneBear community was discussing how trivial and pathetic the romance in Mass Effect is. And I don’t think Rockstar intended for me to be apathetic when Kate got gunned down in Grand Theft Auto IV. Even the best examples of story-telling in games come up short in comparison to other mediums. Final Fantasy may cut it in our world, but there’s a reason all the movie spin-offs have failed miserably. It would seem that what’s generally regarded as the best accounts of story-telling in video games tend to be passive cut-scenes that remove our unique ability to interact, but when these cut-scene stories are put up against other passive mediums, their shallow and cheesy nature is revealed. And the games that do value player choice seem to be missing the mark in a bad way.

But what about the good examples? In my personal gaming history, there’s one emotionally charged moment that stands out above all others for me. I was at a rather large Halo 2 LAN with a group of closely-knit friends and we were playing one-bomb assault on Zanzibar against a team consisting of four players who shared the name “Dip”. It was positively the most evenly matched game I’ve ever played, and I remember it went on so long that other teams who’d finished the round were gathering around to watch us. I could feel my heart pounding in my head as I barked out orders to my mates. I could feel the adrenaline speeding through my veins with every test of our tactics. And I felt an absolute head-rush when we won that match. Not only was there the obvious sense of accomplishment that comes with most every game, but there was a gratification that I had lived up to my expectations as team leader too. And when we ultimately lost the competition later that night, I felt like I had let my friends down. Only a video game can tell the story of leadership and force the player to really feel the pressures that go with it. And while competitive and cooperative multi-player games certainly are the best examples of this so far, I see no reason why these same feelings couldn’t be conveyed with AI partners and enemies.

Another powerful example of strong emotion in video games comes with Fable II, in a segment where the player must choose whether or not to feed starving prisoners at the expense of his or her own experience points. Given that a prisoner had previously told me to lay low and not draw attention to myself, I thought it too risky to feed them when the guards left. But as seconds started dragging on (I think the game gives you like two minutes) I started to doubt myself. The pitiful cries of agony started to tug at me, and I had to keep justifying my actions to myself with the old “greater good” mantra. And the time kept crawling by at a snail’s pace, forcing me to watch these skin-and-bones prisoners struggle to even call for help. I was telling myself that by this point there wasn’t enough time left to make a difference. I didn’t necessarily feel guilty at the end, but I definitely felt like I had sacrificed those prisoners for a bigger cause. I don’t even know what I would have felt if I’d watched my experience points visibly drain away for two minutes so the prisoners could live. But what I do know is that a book or movie has never made me feel guilty or righteous (although I can think of one book that unjustifiably makes a whole lot of people feel guilty). These emotions are exclusive to our interactive medium.

The last example I’d like to bring up is the microwave tunnel in Metal Gear Solid 4. It’s baffling to think that Hideo Kojima can evoke such strong feelings by simply demanding that the player button mash for what seems like an eternity, but he does. The first time I played that sequence and saw Snake cooking before my eyes, I seriously wondered if it was the end. The never-before-seen split-screen story telling charged the scene with the gravity of everybody else’s dire situations while I continued to desperately bash on triangle, trying to steer Snake to safety. And then he started collapsing, his old and beaten body falling apart in front of me. Every time he hit the ground I was yelling, “Get up, you son of a bitch!” I tapped triangle faster and faster, but the button prompt kept telling me it wasn’t enough. In that brief sequence I wasn’t watching Snake’s story, I was Snake. I felt his struggle, and I completely doubted my life. I was amazed when I made it to the end of the hallway, octo-camo melting off of my wrinkled skin. How could a movie possibly make me feel like all my efforts might culminate in failure when I’m not investing any effort into a movie?

So what do all those personal experiences have in common? How are the responsibility of a leader and the fraternity of teamwork related to the guilt and doubts of sacrifice or the struggle of defying impossible odds? I would argue that they’re all emotions exclusive to interactive entertainment. I don’t see how anybody could justify feelings of guilt or accomplishment or pride or doubt in a movie or book. You can’t truly feel these things by observing someone else because they’re personal emotions that depend on your own actions. So maybe video games should stop trying to emulate Hollywood and focus on what’s unique to us. I want to see a game that makes me feel ashamed. I want to see a game that makes me feel vengeful. I want to see a game that makes me feel like a mentor. Pretty much, I just want games that capitalize on interactivity and present me with situations that make me feel my own emotions, not what I’m told to feel.

Based on all the examples I can think of, the best way to do that is to make the player responsible and accountable for their actions. Let their decisions effect the NPCs or other players around them. Don’t tell them what they should do or feel, just let them find their own way and suffer the consequences. And make sure no matter what, there’s no right or wrong (I’m looking at you Fallout 3 and your oh, so morally ambiguous Megaton choice). If I had to look into the near-future and predict one game that might come close to this, it’d probably be Bioware’s upcoming The Old Republic. Those guys have a history of good story-telling (at least plot-wise) in their games and the unpredictable environment of an MMO just might make for some magic. Let me know your guys’ thoughts on good and bad examples of story-telling in games, and what games you’re looking forward to.

Author: Cody

Tags: emotions, fallout 3, feature, final fantasy, halo 2, mass effect, metal gear solid 4, story-telling, the old republic