Monday, December 4, 2006

War Isn’t Hell. Gaming in the 21st Century

‘Games are growing up’ is a phrase I’ve often heard in relation to both the industry and the actual content of games. However I look at the content though, I don’t see much evidence of a maturing media. Even Nintendo, seeking to advertise their new Wii with it’s revolutionary (and so supposedly audience widening) controller, show TV ads of a man hitting people with a sword and then shooting them with guns.

Progress? I think not.

Technology is no longer an excuse as next gen consoles display ever increasing power and the PC grows ever more capable and ubiquitous. They have ample storage for immersive audio, branching stories, retaining information to allow interaction with environments, and improved AI. This combined with often impressive facial animations, and lip synching technology means there is a very clear cut (and no longer ‘cutting edge’) means of providing the player with an immersive and emotional gaming experience.

Somehow all these opportunities seem to have been lost, overrun by a desire to show ‘better’ blood being sprayed over the screen as high definition weapons spray death of all kinds (yes even the physics powered kind!) Often the only form of interactive environment is cover that can be destroyed, tyre tracks that can be admired or crates that can be smashed (wow! More ammo!)

Now as an owner of Gears of War on the 360, I can appreciate high def blood being sprayed by chainsaws over my screen. It’s a fun game, which looks and plays very well. But it seems that not only am I being offered little else as a gamer (especially on the 360, with its countless FPS shooters), but that I am being offered a crippled version of what could be presented in a ‘shooter’.

Games such as Halo, Half life and indeed Gears of War all set out to provide a single player story as well as offering up entertainment in online multiplayer mode. The mass of WWII shooters too, such as Call of Duty or Brothers in Arms, often seek to immerse the player in a “Saving Private Ryan”-esque war epic, before seeing them blast away online.

Ryan began with a harrowing sequence from ‘Bloody Omaha’ on the beaches of Normandy. It illustrated to the viewer very quickly, that when General Sherman said “War is Hell.” he meant it honestly, not because he couldn’t find another ammo crate in time. Too use another literary phrase, from Bao Ninh, “The Sorrow of War,” is very rarely shared with the player. Personally I looked forward to the original instalment of Brothers in Arms, with its promise of squad based action and an emotional investment in your fellow soldiers. The ‘Burden of Command’ was emphasised in its early cut scenes, and I took real care with my men’s lives.

Until my first squad loss…

When Cpl Corrion went down in a hail of MG fire I mourned the loss of one of my men and then rapidly began to wonder how I could progress without him. My problems were short lived when I discovered that as soon as I reached the next level my lost GI was miraculously ‘reborn’. From then on any immersion and command burden was lost and the game became yet another re-spawn fest. The fates of Corrion et al had proven to be irrelevant as they were effectively immortal.

It would have been easy to generate random new squad members every time one was lost. Survivors could have gained experience and been seen by the player as ‘more valuable’ than the rookies. Indeed game play could have been shaped as players sought to preserve their veterans, rather risking their new boys. The end of the campaign could have presented the player with a ‘butcher’s bill’ noting how many men their command skills sent to their grave. A gruesome, yet effective ‘lo score’ way of preserving the ‘War is Hell’ message within a game maybe? It certainly would have reinforced the message that Brothers in Arms claimed to be sending, whilst also allowing friends or even solo gamers a comparative mechanic to track their progress.

Keeping tally in this way and keeping track of survivors would add plenty of emotional attachment to a game, and is a valid way of sidetracking the central problem that the protagonist, that is to say the player, is effectively immortal.

This can be seen to be effective too in tactical / strategy games, which lack the central ‘player’ figure. Often certain units acquire value for a player due to ‘nostalgia’ reasons, rather than actual tactical value. A preserved hero is perhaps someone (or something) to be proud of. The Total War series is a good example of this.

Indeed in the long running Close Combat campaign between my brother and I, (currently in Stalingrad) one of his battle groups is retreating purely to preserve a legendary STG assault gun crew, rather than disband them. The addition of such characters and their respective fates adds much to each game, as a game play mechanic and an emotional hook. Throwing nameless troops to their deaths would be a hollowed experience and consequently not as much fun.

War games ought to be an enjoyable experience, and indeed often are. By why should games, a new media that often compares itself to either film or art, always seek to limit its own impact?

The search for a ‘game that will make you cry’ will never be successful if games constantly and seemingly deliberately attempt to avoid any risk of emotional attachment or depth.

War films or literature are not always gung ho blasters. There is loss, defeat, sacrifice, mourning, the ‘pointlessness’ of war, alongside the heroism, the bravery, the stark choices that must be made, and the camaraderie that can develop. How many of these themes (to name but a few) have really ever been revealed by a shooter?

Until game designers realise that war is more than just bullets, games have a long way to go.