281: Home, Sweet Home

[teknoarcanist]

There is no "down time." You see the characters in action, and they are built solely for that. You never see the hero without the weapon strapped to the side, because it's been an integral part of the character since conception--the character is a vehicle for the delivery of combat, not really a "character" in the literary sense.

I have said this same exact thing a hundred times.

I make a rule for myself as a writer. If I can't imagine one of my characters:
O) Taking a crap
O) Masturbating
O) Eating a sandwich
O) Preparing a sandwich
etc
I do not consider them to be a fully-formed character.

For example, I can imagine Solid Snake making a sandwich, taking a crap, smoking a cigar, watching a rerun of Die Hard and going to bed dog tired. I can also imagine him killing a man. Or letting a man live. I can imagine him changing a light-bulb. That is a fucking character. He's a multifaceted representation of certain characteristics which are realistic, relatable, and likable enough that I can impose them even on mundane tasks and they don't fall apart.

By comparison, I cannot imagine Master Chief making a sandwich. Or taking a crap. Or reading a book. I can't imagine Master Chief doing anything other than shooting things and making grim declarations, because Master Chief is not a fully-formed character: he's a space-armor-shaped cardboard cutout.

It's all about context. If you put a character in my world and throw some shit at him, you're throwing shit at me. I buy it. I want to see how this guy will react because, conceivably, that could be me.

If, on the other hand, you put a bullshit character in a bullshit world and ask me to buy it, I'm going to shrug indifferently. What the hell do I care what the Squibs say to the Dongles about the macguffin? Nothing. None of it applies to me. It doesn't matter.

Side note: Tarantino is a great example of taking bullshit formulas for worlds and bullshit archetypes for characters and turning them into real spaces and real characters I can care about. And how does he do it? They make sandwiches. They discuss films and music. They struggle to remember the names of celebrities. They argue over how well to tip at a restaurant.



But as far as the content of the article itself:

I agree that domestic spaces help to contextualize action. While Mafia 2 had some deep flaws, I thought a brilliant move was

Spoiler

burning my house down, and all the clothes and cars I'd spent the game acquiring with it.

It would have been more effective if it had happened organically in the course of gameplay, rather than having a cutscene shove its boot up my ass and tell me THIS IS WHAT IS HAPPENING TO YOU RIGHT NOW,

Spoiler

or if, for example, I had been in the midst of the house as it burned down, forced to choose which armload of items I wanted to save most

but whatever. I was impressed -- and genuinely, legitimately enraged/indignant/betrayed -- all the same.

Tying that plot swing into the central axiom of the game (find guys and shoot them) as a cathartic revenge mission only sweetened the deal. For the first time in that game, I actually wanted to go shoot up some wiseguys. After all,

Spoiler

THEY BURNT MY GODDAMN HOUSE DOWN!

It was that game's Moment To Take Note Of. And it mattered because I (and NOT Vito) had populated that space with shiny objects and lovely things. It was me. It was my own. It felt real.

And in the words of Peter Molyneux, "Once that's happened...I've got you "

 

[Dastardly]

= snip =

See, I hate QT. I find his characters to be caricatures. His movies just seem to get wrapped up around dialogue that's just not as clever as it purports itself to be. He treats his characters as though they've been thoroughly developed, but he just sort of skips that part. It's like someone writing checks based on what they thought they'd put in the account, not what's actually there.

But I do get what you're saying about characters. There has to be the idea that they exist "beyond." This is why I also prefer stories that don't explain every thread running through them--you get the sense that this world, and thus everyone in it, have a life beyond what you're being shown. It takes a special kind of writer to ride this line between "loose end" and "open end," though.

Usually, it comes in those little touches of humanity. They don't have to tell you what the character's other side is, or even show it. They simply have to give you the impression that it exists. There's a reason they're killing what they're killing (and it's not always so simple as "revenge"). There's a reason they're rescuing the princess or saving the kingdom, because there's a life they can go back to when they're done--and that is what they're really saving.

In a person's home, nothing is chance or random. It's a space in which they decide what they'll surround themselves with. What things they'll keep, out of the hundreds of thousands of things they've acquired in their lives. Which they'll display, which they'll hide. In a person's home, they construct a microcosm of their world as they understand it, even if they don't realize they've done it.

 

[Lotet]

this reminds me of a scene in Fallout, I can't remember were, might have been a Vault

it was a small skeleton sitting against a wall with a Teddy Bear, the bear had a Helmet and a Pistol as if to protect the kid.

probably the only time I didn't loot everything.

 

[clarissa]

The article has some interesting and innovative ideas about characterization in games.
This revelation of a character by unusual and "indirect" means makes me remember some procedures in literature, in which you get to know a character very well even when there is no certain description of he/she. Some authors manage to imply certain ideas of a character only by actions or descriptions of the character's room. I guess the same procedure would work for games, if well structured inside the interaction.
However, I can't conclude so certainly that in relation to more subtle character's description the cut-scenes become useless, as I regard them to a more narrative fixation strategy (the assertion of fixed points in a game`s narrative) than a procedure to intensify or describe a character.

Home, Sweet Home

Giving players access to the dwellings of videogame characters can contribute more to the sense of a living, dynamic world than any number of cut scenes.

Read Full Article

By the way, I read your review on Bayonetta on your blog; and although I do not agree entirely with your opinion about the plot, I find it a very good review. Thank you.

 

[NardBasket]

I like Aeris' mom's house in Final Fantasy 7. It's a charming little isolated place in the middle of a downtrodden, gloomy city, and it seems very fitting that she'd live there.

 

[NardBasket]

There is no "down time." You see the characters in action, and they are built solely for that. You never see the hero without the weapon strapped to the side, because it's been an integral part of the character since conception--the character is a vehicle for the delivery of combat, not really a "character" in the literary sense.

I have said this same exact thing a hundred times.

I make a rule for myself as a writer. If I can't imagine one of my characters:
O) Taking a crap
O) Masturbating
O) Eating a sandwich
O) Preparing a sandwich
etc
I do not consider them to be a fully-formed character.

For example, I can imagine Solid Snake making a sandwich, taking a crap, smoking a cigar, watching a rerun of Die Hard and going to bed dog tired. I can also imagine him killing a man. Or letting a man live. I can imagine him changing a light-bulb. That is a fucking character. He's a multifaceted representation of certain characteristics which are realistic, relatable, and likable enough that I can impose them even on mundane tasks and they don't fall apart.

By comparison, I cannot imagine Master Chief making a sandwich. Or taking a crap. Or reading a book. I can't imagine Master Chief doing anything other than shooting things and making grim declarations, because Master Chief is not a fully-formed character: he's a space-armor-shaped cardboard cutout.

It's all about context. If you put a character in my world and throw some shit at him, you're throwing shit at me. I buy it. I want to see how this guy will react because, conceivably, that could be me.

If, on the other hand, you put a bullshit character in a bullshit world and ask me to buy it, I'm going to shrug indifferently. What the hell do I care what the Squibs say to the Dongles about the macguffin? Nothing. None of it applies to me. It doesn't matter.

Side note: Tarantino is a great example of taking bullshit formulas for worlds and bullshit archetypes for characters and turning them into real spaces and real characters I can care about. And how does he do it? They make sandwiches. They discuss films and music. They struggle to remember the names of celebrities. They argue over how well to tip at a restaurant.



But as far as the content of the article itself:

I agree that domestic spaces help to contextualize action. While Mafia 2 had some deep flaws, I thought a brilliant move was

Spoiler

burning my house down, and all the clothes and cars I'd spent the game acquiring with it.

It would have been more effective if it had happened organically in the course of gameplay, rather than having a cutscene shove its boot up my ass and tell me THIS IS WHAT IS HAPPENING TO YOU RIGHT NOW,

Spoiler

or if, for example, I had been in the midst of the house as it burned down, forced to choose which armload of items I wanted to save most

but whatever. I was impressed -- and genuinely, legitimately enraged/indignant/betrayed -- all the same.

Tying that plot swing into the central axiom of the game (find guys and shoot them) as a cathartic revenge mission only sweetened the deal. For the first time in that game, I actually wanted to go shoot up some wiseguys. After all,

Spoiler

THEY BURNT MY GODDAMN HOUSE DOWN!

It was that game's Moment To Take Note Of. And it mattered because I (and NOT Vito) had populated that space with shiny objects and lovely things. It was me. It was my own. It felt real.

And in the words of Peter Molyneux, "Once that's happened...I've got you "

I totally agree with you about Master Chief. Totally devoid of character

 

[marygoodden]

By the way, I read your review on Bayonetta on your blog; and although I do not agree entirely with your opinion about the plot, I find it a very good review. Thank you.

Thank you very much, I really appreciate you saying that.

 

[Cudcat]

this reminds me of a scene in Fallout, I can't remember were, might have been a Vault

it was a small skeleton sitting against a wall with a Teddy Bear, the bear had a Helmet and a Pistol as if to protect the kid.

probably the only time I didn't loot everything.

I really liked the skeletons in Fallout. Whilst occasionally repetetive, they gave an idea of the various ways people might choose to spend their final moments. You'd catch a glimpse of the life that once (supposedly) was.

 

[marygoodden]

One example of a brilliant use of home is in Persona 4. As your days are spent doing a number of options, from going to school to exploring televisions to entering the meat dimension and killing demons, you always come home from the evening and are greeted by Nanako, your young niece. Her "Welcome home, big bro!" and beaming smile seems grading after a while, but it's a constant and you begin to expect it. Suddenly, when the plot removes her from her home, you come home to silence and an empty house. No more Big Bro, no more smiles. It's a change that adds a sudden emotional weight and seriousness to your quest - you're not just trying to "save the world", you're trying to save Nanako, and the human sense of scale makes it a far more personal, and thus more important, objective.

I've just tracked down a copy of Persona 4. I will let you know how it goes [http://www.well-rendered.com/].

Thank you so much for the reccommendation.

 

[marygoodden]

One example of a brilliant use of home is in Persona 4. As your days are spent doing a number of options, from going to school to exploring televisions to entering the meat dimension and killing demons, you always come home from the evening and are greeted by Nanako, your young niece. Her "Welcome home, big bro!" and beaming smile seems grading after a while, but it's a constant and you begin to expect it. Suddenly, when the plot removes her from her home, you come home to silence and an empty house. No more Big Bro, no more smiles. It's a change that adds a sudden emotional weight and seriousness to your quest - you're not just trying to "save the world", you're trying to save Nanako, and the human sense of scale makes it a far more personal, and thus more important, objective.

I've just tracked down a copy of Persona 4. I will let you know how it goes [http://www.well-rendered.com/].

Thank you so much for the reccommendation.