Tag: SWTOR

I had already in other posts voiced my complaint against voice-acting, without delving much into the reasons. I shall do so now, so that my whimpering grumbles are given some frame of reference. Also, it could prove beneficial to analyse how the voice-acting trend has evolved, what implications it carries, and whether it is a sensible thing or not to reclaim previous methods of narrative construction.

Before the objecting can begin, I have to make a disclaimer: I don't think all voice-acting is detrimental and ought to be removed so we all read huge chunks of tasty prose. As with pretty much everything in life, a balance has to be struck. Such balance would comprise all the benefits of characterisation by voice-acting without overwhelming game design or overshadowing player identification.

A character's voice is extremely definitory, not only for its particular texture, but also for the nuances with which the lines are read. Sometimes, a character's voice proves to be more powerful than any other traits he has been bestowed. It was the case of Garrus, whose voice made him the focus of attention of thousands of romance-inclined players; or Tali's, which I found particularly annoying due to its high-pitch and grating echo. It's a matter of taste, but decidedly significant in a character's appeal and general depiction.

Sometimes, voice-acting sets a particular tone for the story, not only the character. One of the things I enjoy the most of my adventure games is the construction of the main characters through their voices. I am particularly fond of the characters in The Book of Unwritten Tales, an adventure game which mocks the conventions of the genre and satirizes other games (with a pink-clad paladin who uses bubble-hearth. Loved it). In TBOUT, the skimpy elf is given a very British accent to depict her posh high-forest-class attitude. In adventure games there is no need for choice and consequence (at least, it was not the core element of both old and contemporary adventures), and the focus is placed on one immovable narrative that has to be peeled off from the coat of game mechanics: investigation, puzzles, exploration, etc. There is little room for hermeneutics. Identification with the protagonist is accessory, as she will be your vehicle into the narrative, not the tabula rasa into which you will project yourself. Even characters such as The Nameless One (Planescape: Torment), with such a pervasive background story, are subject to your roleplaying, your acting.

Indeed, the keyword is acting. We have to bear in mind that voice-acting is a manner of acting. In its absence, it is our ego the one which fills the void-text. When there is an alien -meaning "different from ours"- voice, the illusion of roleplaying perils. Moreover, if the text is voice-less, it will carry by nature more potentiality than the voiced one. Thus, any script for a play, unless provided with annotations, will be read differently depending on the interpretation of the actor. What we usually find to compensate for this formlessness of the dialogues in games are the descriptions of a character's voice, gestures or attitude. On many occasions we are not given such descriptions, especially when the line belongs to the PC; therefore, we imbue it with whichever tone we see fit. When there is a text describing the action that accompanies the lines, sometimes it is a gesture that could be rendered, more or less effectively, through animation and graphics. For instance, the Blackwell games, which actually have a top-notch voice-acting, had a hand-drawn portrait of the main character, Rosangela, smiling awkward and frighteningly; brilliant characterization.

But sometimes the written word is necessary. This same argument is valid for movies, especially for book adaptations. Nonetheless, the video game media allows for a much more seamless interaction between the written word and the audiovisual, and thus I consider that the argument is much more productive. We are not discussing which one is better, books or films, but rather how we can integrate into a neutral medium the best characteristics of both.

Literary descriptions allow for a more complex and subtle depiction of moods, gestures and environment, especially through the use of metaphors and comparisons. Depending on the description, an adaptation to the graphical interface can or cannot be made. For instance, you could easily translate a "She smiled" sentence into a gesture. Even a "She smiled wryly". But how can you convey "She smiled as if she had been trained for it, as a soldier has been trained to smother hers"? The metaphor serves the double purpose of detailing the image with more -imaginative- precision, and of attaching to it a certain undertone. In this case, stating that it is a mechanical smile, and associating it to a militaristic dehumanization. A translation into the visual could perhaps make explicit the unnatural quality of such a smile, but never the association that the comparison suggests. How can you translate an uneasiness, a longing for home, as in Eliot's "when the human engine waits / Like a taxi throbbing waiting"?

The old RPGs drew from the literary source much more than current games. The writing quality, in general, was better. I have argued how they benefited -and can continue to benefit from- the written medium. The nuances of literary expression in addition to a graphical interface with sound and music. The integration of all of these engender games such as Baldur's Gate or Planescape: Torment. Too much focus on the audiovisual, and we obtain Mass Effect, where the writing quality is poorer and there is much more reliance on the visual, sensationalistic aspects of games-as-movies.

Back to the topic of voice-acting, I believe that providing the protagonist with a voice is a bad idea in the context of RPGs. Along with many other things that Bioware did wrong, its voice-acting, although superb for FemShepard, had the fixation of reminding me that this was not my story. Coupled with the dissonance between the answer you seleced and what the character said, ME and DA2 felt more like an interactive movie than an RPG. And in the end I was proved right, because the choices, the core element that they were brandishing as the peak of roleplaying, were inconsequential. The choices provided a flavour. How do you prefer your Shepard, angry or sanctimonious? If Bioware wanted to tell me their story, why didn't they make an adventure game, for instance?

Yet another problem with voice-acting is the cost, and what it implies. Unless your budget is infinite, you'll prefer re-using some parts to recording entire scenes for different inputs. This doesn't happen to the same extent with written text. Although writing is a laborious endeavour, it is definitely less expensive and more flexible. I always cringe at the announcement of a fully-voiced RPG, because I know that there will be significant cuts made to dialogue in order to reduce costs for what I personally consider unnecessary: to have everybody in the game speak with their own voice, minor and major characters alike. I am thrilled to hear a major character speak, standing out from the crowd of voiceless characters. I don't think that hearing Space Janitor #3 is a particularly fascinating experience.

Episode 19 of Season 5 of The Big Bang Theory was for me the straw that broke the camel's back. In case you haven't seen any episode, the series is about a group of scientists who are also nerds, and who hold difficult relationships with various female characters, the main one being a more down-to-earth cheerleader-type woman, Penny, with whom the protagonist, Leonard, falls in love. If that could be considered love, but all right. The only thing you need to know is that this series is profoundly gendered, depicting the prestigious but socially-awkward scientists/nerds in contrast with the unsuccessful-in-her-career but savant-in-the-ways-of-life woman (later on two female characters are added to the mix: Amy, the unfeminine biologist who is as ignorant in life as she is brilliant in the lab; and Bernadette, the silly, twee, caring girlfriend, who is also employed in a lab).

In this episode, the guys are planning a marathon of 48 hours of SWTOR (the game's name is not mentioned, but we are shown a good amount of game clips and screenshots from the shoulders of the characters). I'll come back to the game later. The plot of this episode has something to do with concessions, and how different relationships handle the fine art of yielding and giving permission, being the activity under the girlfriend's scrutiny the only-guys sleepover to play videogames.

I'll be focusing on the gaming part and how it concerns women, not the dynamics of each relationship and the problems they are facing. Likewise, I won't delve into the disappointing advice that Penny gives Amy regarding feminine tools to force their way in a dispute (sex, silence or making a scene - what happened with 'communication'?). My point has to do with Bernadette and how she is portrayed when engaging in the male activity of gaming.

Bernadette had forced Howard to invite her to the boys' party by the terrifying act of suggesting an argument: "What? You don't want me to come?" Then, a succession of facepalming scenes ensue: Bernadette being loud and silly (screaming "Pew Pew Pew") about her DPSing while the guys handle the job silent and professionally; she suggesting that her boyfriend should wear a matching robe so that people in-game knew that they were a couple; and one of the most enraging ones: she being disapproved because of her healing only her boyfriend. She had been automatically placed into a support role by her friends (because, she being a newbie, her decision ought to have been influenced by her peers). In any event, her playing is constantly diminished and mocked by the others, her presence only tolerated because of her boyfriend. By the end of the episode, the girls are convinced into leaving and withdrawing their complaints. And then Raj says "that's the way it is supposed to be: men together, fighting the forces of evil." Alright, I get it, it's a men's club. Women are a hindrance, either harming their game enjoyment with silliness and lack of professionalism, or by asking them to commit to non-enjoyable activities such as visiting their grandmother.

On SWTOR, I found it particularly hilarious that the playing session which the boys are having emphasizes the combat and grouping parts of the game, and makes no comment on the much-praised 'fourth pillar' of storytelling. There's no mention of the story, just hype and excitement about combat and loot: Raj: "When Gandhi advocated his philosophy of non-violence, I bet he didn't know how much fun it was killing stuff", Leonard: "Ok, let's divide up the loot" (wasn't loot auto-assigned, anyways?). A few views on the player's laptops show lightsabers and a female avatar doing some emote. If the gender assumptions weren't reason enough, this tasteless promotion based on precisely the weakest points of a game reassured me I had been watching The Big Bang Theory for too long now.

I'll be absent for a week, and won't be able to check the site during my trip. See you guys and girls soon.

The post that sparked my interest in this topic was Azuriel's "The problem with Romance", which was more concerned with the suspension of disbelief required to roleplay the opposite gender in romance situations, whereas what I thought about when reading it was of the romances themselves and what was lacking in them that was present in KOTOR -- and why.

The topic on romances is related to my previous post of why companions are marginal to the plot, which I summed up as a consequence of structural feedback and disconnection from the main story, which in turn are consequence of the trend towards a sandbox RPG, one which allows many choices, and allegedly profound consequences, but which cannot work as well as a fixed story (or semi-fixed, like KOTOR), as the "do-it-yourself story" requires many more resources, development time and writing competence. Now, these companions which are marginal to the plot are sometimes thought of by some players as optional content -- When, in which piece of literature, has it happened that characters are secondary? Isn't art a reflection of human (universal) emotions? Characters shouldn't be dismissed so quickly.

But the truth is, how can we take them seriously, especially when romance comes into the mix, if they are alienated from our story, interchangeable, and, on top of that, burdened by terrible and troublesome romance "mechanics"? This was precisely what I wanted to discuss, the mechanics of gift-giving and acquiescence.

In the first Dragon Age title there were only two factors you had to keep in mind when wooing your lady, or your lord: you had to agree with him/her on everything, and you had to give him/her gifts. Of course, everybody knows that real life doesn't work that way; how scary would that be. But there is some dangerous reading into this that many people, particularly young men-children, have made: gifts are proper substitutes of real tokens of affection, and, as long as you are nice, you will get the lady. There are many more factors that contribute to the Nice Guy culture, but certainly games add to this.

In Dragon Age II, what we had was a system in which you could approach a character either by friendship or by rivalry, which is a much more neat approach that recognizes that relationships of any kind are not solely based on agreement and sympathy. Still, I would have liked to see a divergent path for those who pursued the rivalry option, instead of a rephrasing of certain lines. They needed to recycle content in order to meet the release date and all. And then, they took a step back and based the SWTOR romances on the DA system, which the same gift-giving deal and forced roleplaying of your actions to conform to your partner.

In KOTOR 1, the best interactions that you had with your crew were grounded on conflicts: Bastila when displeased by your ways was always much more interesting than in meek acquiescence; and disagreeing with her often led to discussing your conflictive points of view, sometimes arriving to an understanding. I wouldn't dare challenge Morrigan in Dragon Age, she would, O the horror, "disapprove -5!" I remember fondly the constant whining of Carth Onassi, and my ability to tell him to shut up, hairless wookie, ungrateful monkey-lizard. Sometimes he played along, sometimes he got genuinely upset, but there were no consequences of a bit of elegant teasing or serious disagreement, it was even more rewarding that drone-like assent: "So, Morrigan, you're a misanthrope? What a coincidence, I am too!"; "Oh, Alistair, you being a virgin at 25 is perfectly fine and adorable"; "No, Zevran, I'm not worried at all that you might assassinate me as you were hired to do."

If there had been a "positive" outcome from your disagreeing with the Dragon Age characters, similar to the DA2 rivalry system, it would have made sense that you would be interested in pissing them off. What is the point of being hated by Morrigan, if her only lines come through friendship, unless you are roleplaying in your head that she is frothing at the mouth in ire whenever she sees you. As it is, it is just a game within the game, and a gateway system that would prevent you from triggering all the conversations at once. Being able to see how high your standing with somebody is, or how they took that line about their mother, is even more damaging to the experience, as it makes the system stand out in its artificiality.

In SWTOR they took the first approach to romances as a convenience. People comment on how they use the gifts system to get their standing up when their companions haven't been taken out in a while. And how they choose their responses (ironic or earnest, light or dark side) according to what their companion might approve. What a horrendously unrealistic system.

With a semi-fixed story like KOTOR we have characters that you might not be able to kick out from your ship (some of them you will), but we have a more stable system that allows the characters to perform as characters, ingrained in the story and sticking to you no matter the petty disputes and name-calling, because that too constitutes affection.

Anachronos' trip to Orgrimmar

I'm certain that whenever the subject of personal gaming experiences in your circle comes up, the anecdotes you will be recounting are tales in which you socialized in some way or another: a group of 10 pulling the dragon at the Caverns of Time entrance and bringing it all the way to Orgrimmar at 3am, and then gloating in the havoc and newbie's cries of despair; finally defeating that boss that had been like a wall you hit your head against for weeks -but all of you hit your heads together, what a bonding experience!-; meeting that random stranger in a quest which will end up being at your side until unsubscribing do us part. Making screenshots of the male members of your guild in briefs à la firefighter calendar. Well, perhaps not many people can share that particular anecdote.

My point is: MMOs are, or ought to be, a social experience, at least to some extent.

I always said that if I wanted to play on my own, I could be playing a singleplayer game such as Diablo. Which actually I do, from time to time. My interests in the gaming sector are varied, and sometimes antipodal: adventure games, RPGs, hack&slash, sometimes FPS; most of those are singleplayer games that cater to a particular interest of mine, whereas MMOs provide a community that I wish to meet doing various activities (raiding, PVP, roleplaying). It doesn't make much sense to ask of MMOs that they deliver a gratifying RPG experience, while the key aspects of the MMO genre are neglected.

This is the case with SWTOR, for instance, but also of Wrath-Cataclysm WoW. In the former, a new 'pillar' has been introduced and practically extolled as the panacea of the genre. More complex narratives coupled with voice-over and cinematics, seasoning the level-up process. It is indeed an innovation, but I believe that focusing on the individual experience of the hero-player can only be harmful to the concept of the MMO. Moreover, any resources devoted to features with are marginal to the true (or traditional, if you prefer) experience of the MMO are not a waste per se, but detract the developers from improving other areas which are pivotal to this experience (raiding, PVP, crafting, player-interaction, world events. You name it. As long as it serves to strengthen the community, it is important for an MMO).

Perhaps the paradigm is changing, as Castronova pointed out over at Terra Nova, towards a model of urban lifestyle, an "alone together" community. One of the arguments involves the fact that this is where it is heading because this is what players are demanding, or at least not fighting against.  It might be true that we don't actively oppose this model, or that maybe sometimes we would rather have this casual and undemanding atmosphere. This is due to our habit of seeking the path of minimum effort/pain and maximum pleasure. But although this model doesn't bring any long-term gratification, or higher-quality pleasure, it is true that our effort is minimised, and the way we engage with the game is simplified. As it requires less of us to bring fun, it is the least painful.

It is less "painful" to click a button to get grouped with strangers, and not share a word, instead of risking one's comfort by asking around the server. The pleasure we derive from it has to due with the reward, or the stimuli of our performance as a DPS/healer/tank, but it cannot be compared to the pleasure we obtain from grouping with people from our server, chatting with them because we are certain that we will see them again (or we wish so), and generally having a good time. The "basic" pleasures of reward and gameplay cannot be equated to the typical MMO experience of meeting new friends. "Some kinds of pleasure are more desired and more valuable than others" (...) "pleasures of the intellect, of the feelings and imagination, and of the moral sentiments, a much higher value as pleasures than to those of mere sensation." (J.S. Mill, "Utilitarianism"). I can safely state that the higher pleasures that were obtained from old MMOs are more rewarding, although they tend to require more effort from us. Why don't we seek these out, despite the current trend of MMO design?

The analogy that Castronova employs (suburban areas as "alone together" communities, like modern MMOs) makes me think that players do not actively seek such a lonely/easy-pleasure atmosphere. We need to be encouraged to seek what we truly like, because of our cultural burdens: We simply are not accustomed to cooperating with strangers. MMOs used to be places where people met on different terms than in real-life. Mutual disregard, as when you walk down the street, would be revoked for the greater good of a common goal, and the barriers that keep us from approaching a stranger had no place there. Nevertheless, such way of acting is alien to what we have been taught in our lives, and it requires some help from the game developers: unsoloable content, dungeons, arenas, events; chatrooms, guilds, raids. Our current MMOs are being stripped of those things little by little (Looking for Raid in WoW, emphasis on individual storytelling in SWTOR), and I'm really worried about the genre and its ability to bring people together. The developers of MMOs ought to give us the tools and, to some extent, compel us to play the game with others, because we don't want "alone together" communities in our entertainment too.