Crying, breaking Halo, and a literary canon

I made a comment the other day in regard to The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time.  To summarize, I wept like the little girl I was at the time upon first beating it.  Remembering this set me off on a series of reflections upon the video games that have brought me to tears, or at least close to them (the list of which will probably be another post in the future).

Hi there, just being really, really emotionally intense...

Then I realized something. I’ve cried more often for video games than for any other form of entertainment.  The reason for this is obvious, and is actually the same reason I use every time I defend gaming from shallow naysayers who would claim it is merely brainless distraction: stories in video games are significantly more engaging than the stories in books, movies, etc. because of the player’s direct control and involvement in the unfolding of events.

Reading back, that sounded like a thesis statement for an academic paper, my bad. In short, it’s a lot easier to care about a story when you feel personally involved. As the main character, you’re the centrifuge that holds the entire game in place. So when your girlfriend/sister/best friend dies horribly, and you’ve been putting yourself into this guy’s shoes for 10 hours, it hits a little closer to home.

You knew this was going to get mentioned, it's the quintessential example.
Fun fact though, I didn't cry, or even really care...

Some would argue that this is only applicable to RPG’s. Not at all. I would argue up and down that this isn’t the case.  It upsets me when the stories of most FPS’s are overlooked in favor of just focusing on the multiplayer.  Look at the recent Call of Duty installments.  Love CoD or hate it, the story modes are actually fantastic productions, with Hollywood-quality casts and intense plots.  I definitely teared up a little during that one part in Modern Warfare 2.  No spoilers, but if you played, you know. You know. It’s like double-rainbow intense.

Same applies to Halo: Reach (spoilers [?] ahead I guess, even though what I’m going to discuss is clearly stated at the beginning of the game). The latest (and hopefully last since Bungie has ended their involvement) addition to the Halo franchise had a simply amazing story.  You play through knowing full-well that you, along with your teammates, will die in the end.  When you reach the final level, the objective simply states: Survive.  Emotional, right?

Survive!

Now, first time I played through the Reach campaign, it was a co-op effort with my brother and two good friends (shout outs to StepLaugh and Benjamin!). My brother had already beaten the campaign, so upon seeing the final objective I excitedly turned to him (because we’re lame and play splitscreen sometimes) “Max! Does this mean…does this mean we won’t die?! Does Noble Six survive?!”  Even though I know that the game begins with your character’s helmet half-buried in the ground, smashed and peppered with bullet holes, even though I know this, for a second I allow myself to hope that MAYBE it was just a trick, maybe we can survive.  Maybe after spending so much time invested in this story and the role we play as the main character, maybe we can make it.

My brother spares a moment from his grunt killing-spree to nervously scratch the back of his neck, and glances my way, eyes solemn. He blinks, says flatly, “Just take as many of them down with you as you can.”  I understand.  We can’t win.  Of course we can’t.  I try in vain anyway, and actually glitch the game out for a little while as I hide behind some barrels that apparently made my character invisible to the hordes of enemies programmed to insure my death.  My co-op partners and I have a good laugh about this for a while, but amidst the laughter, in the back of my mind I’m marveling at my ability to yet again, become so involved and invested in a game that I would try to change its ending.

Inevitable, despite my best efforts

Well played, Bungie.  Well played, developers everywhere.

As a resident defender of pop culture at my university, I’ve often mentioned in my literature classes that our generation’s “literary canon” is comprised of video games, (web)comics/graphic novels, and blogs.

…And you know, I think I’m okay with this. If games continue to make me cry, make me feel, then I have no qualms about them being the literature of our age.  I mean, it’s either us or Twilight, right? In that case, I think I’m gonna side with Mass Effect, or Uncharted, or Red Dead Redemption, etc. than gay vampires, thanks.