Nevertheless, I cannot allow certain recent musings to go unchallenged. (Christ, how did people ever get to the point before the 20th century?)
The central issue with Edmund is not whether or not it needs to be entertaining. It's pretty clear that a game by the name of "interactive software" is one in need of having its glasses ripped off and casually torn at the bridge, but also one that might grow up to do some good someday.
The more essential question, which Edmund dares not ask is, "am I interesting?" Reader, I have known this "Edmund." He is, like all sociopaths, as boring as he is repellent. Sure, he engages in perfunctory dialogue before his abuse, but not a line or grass-mushing gameplay gimmick creates any sort of empathy, or antipathy.
Is boredom something we should exclude from art? No, but not when it, or any other emotion, serves a merely "moral" purpose.
What good art does is create new emotions, through manipulation of medium in subtle or extreme ways. If we deny the objective correlative, we might as well give up on criticism altogether.
The 1928 silent film The Passion of Joan of Arc, unlike The Passion of the Christ, just barely escapes didacticism through the director's willingness to place the story above the moral. This, paradoxically, is the only way the moral can survive, through the crude but innovative application of Expressionism.
For another example, this is why most critics think Pygmalion is a much better play than, say, Back to Methuselah, a five-play eugenics rant that eschews anything but monologue for dozens of pages at a time. Is the moral of Back to Methesulah more interesting? Yes, but to actually read it, it doesn't have the same weight.
Video game designers think they can get away with lazy didacticism because interaction forces a player to choose the moral. This is sheer arrogance. Until a player has an equal hand in not just the outcome, but the directorial shape of the software, a designer must choose aesthetic over moral, just like any other artist.
For another example, this is why most critics think Pygmalion is a much better play than, say, Back to Methuselah, a five-play eugenics rant that eschews anything but monologue for dozens of pages at a time. Is the moral of Back to Methesulah more interesting? Yes, but to actually read it, it doesn't have the same weight.
Video game designers think they can get away with lazy didacticism because interaction forces a player to choose the moral. This is sheer arrogance. Until a player has an equal hand in not just the outcome, but the directorial shape of the software, a designer must choose aesthetic over moral, just like any other artist.
(Because it will annoy Dreedy, a plug: Flower, Sun, Rain uses, to the point of adolescent petulance, boredom as a mode of play. But while there is a moral element to this, it is kept at a distance, layered on top of the aesthetic purpose, to further the narrative's riffing on identity.)
Which brings the question, can a player ever have true agency? The games, like FSR, that I think have had any moral weight have all said, "no." (I would argue all worthwhile art is self-defeating.) But what makes these games interesting is their willingness to ask the question, full in the mirror.
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I don't know what you just said.
ReplyDeleteI'm pretty sure I already laid out why I disagree, Tim, but for the sake of constructive argument, let me lay it out a little more succinctly.
ReplyDeleteYou say the game is boring, and I agree that, as a character, Edmund's dialogue and motivations are uninspired; however, the gamer's experience playing as Edmund is anything but. In fact, the player's role is exceedingly disturbing. For example, Noah had to stop playing the game halfway and refused to continue, yet the game still haunts and compels him. Just because it isn't fun doesn't mean it's boring.
Furthermore, the reason that this game is important as far as it deals with the topic of rape is that it stands in opposition to every other game that uses rape as its core draw or game mechanic. Tim, with all due respect, I assume you have never played a Japanese rape simulator and, for this reason, don't understand the cognitive dissonance these games encourage towards so despicable an act. Edmund is as base as these other demonic offspring, yet is diametrically opposite to them in the way of form, mode, content, and tone. Edmund is a response to the precedent of those games, and is important and interesting in the context of a criticism of them.
I don't have much to add on either side. but I will say I find your bolding condescending. Cut that shit out.
ReplyDeleteDreed: Like I said, I don't care if it's boring. That's a entirely valid emotion to provoke. I just think it doesn't do this in a way that demonstrates much aesthetic effort, which renders the moral intent useless.
ReplyDeleteJake: Interesting. See, I don't expect everyone to hang on my every word, so I think bloding can be sincerely helpful. But I'm not attached to it.