Video game morality
Consider the following scenario. A person — we’ll call him X — rounds up a posse and breaks into the home of another person, whom we will call Y. He believes that Y has committed a crime, and, being a rather lawless and violent sort, intends to take it upon himself to act as judge, jury, and executioner. Upon confronting Y, it becomes clear that the crime in question was in fact committed by a third party, and that Y is innocent. X, however, does not care; he and his posse proceed to murder Y in punishment for a crime he did not commit, even after Y attempted repeatedly to defuse the situation without resorting to violence. In the real world, we would probably consider X to be, at the very least, a complete shitheel, and probably he’s the type of person we’d hope — in vain! — that Wyatt Earp would eventually come along to rid us of. In video games, of course, he’s the good guy, and Y is the bad guy. And this has nothing at all to do with anything they say or do, and everything to do with crystals.
See, we know X is the good guy because he wants to protect some crystals. And we know Y is the bad guy because he wants to exploit the crystals. And we know the crystals are good because, hey, this is a video game. In a video game, it doesn’t matter what you do to other sentient beings or how much you kill them, just so long as you’re doing your part to help crystals. It’s enough to make one wonder if the entire video game industry is secretly bankrolled by Swarovski.
Crystals always have magic powers in video games. Usually they’re the sort of thing where you collect them all and then you get to make a wish. It’s important to note, however, that anybody who ever attempts to collect and use the crystals is automatically a bad guy. Good guys want to keep them separate and guard them, for some reason that very likely involves the laws of succession in weird forms of video game government.
Governments in video games are always either explicitly good and noble or evil and corrupt. Kings are generally good, princes are good, and princesses are very good. On the other hand, emperors are always bad, and dukes are even worse. There is no reason to have a duke in a video game if he isn’t working to undermine the rightful rule of the king. Queens are a toss-up; they might be good or bad, but, either way, they’re being used as pawns by aliens. If a video game society has an elected body of representatives, it will either be all-male, in which case it is presented as bureaucratic and incompetent, or it will be all-female, in which case they are super-enlightened politically-correct sages who could solve all the world’s problems if they felt like it. It will also have indoor waterfalls and gardens.
If the government in a video game is made up of good guys — for example, if they’re one of the governments responsible for protecting crystals — then doing whatever the government tells you is automatically good, no matter what it is. If we need something to keep the crystal safe, but some other dude has it, and he’s off in a cave someplace not bothering anybody, well, go murder him and steal his stuff. It’s a good act, and you’re a good guy!
What I’m getting at is that video games are fucked up. And, yes, the example I opened with is a real situation in a real video game.
Heh! The first time I played Chrono Trigger, I got to the part where Crono’s on trial, and this dude asks me if I’ve ever stolen anything. And I’m thinking, “Dude, I’m the Kleptomaniac Hero. It’s in my job description to waltz into people’s houses and take anything that happens to be carelessly left lying around in jars, barrels, crates, and unlocked chests. Of course I’ve stolen stuff.” But it turned out he was talking about this old guy’s lunch, which, by the way, kept respawning when I returned to the area, unlike the other items I swiped.
Comment by Nyperold | 9 September 2009
Oops. Somehow I failed to close that. Chalk it up to use TV Tropes Wiki’s Wiki Words.
Well, while I’m making a post, I might as well recommend Professor Layton and the Diabolical Box. (Of course, since you liked Curious Village, you probably already have it or are planning to get it. So this might be more of a rec for the myriads of readers out there.) To me, it’s very much on par with the first game, and it has a similar feel; one familiar with PL&tCV should not get lost here. Some characters from the first game (other than Layton & Luke, I mean) appear here, including a couple of rather important ones.
More of the puzzles are tied closely to the events of the story (e.g., you’re trying to find a hotel in the story, and you find out which building it is by solving the puzzle), though there are still plenty introduced in this vein: “You’re running around like a chicken with its head cut off! Speaking of chickens…”
A couple of things bug me, though. Maybe the improbable disguise shouldn’t be one of them, but it is. It reminds me of that gag where there are these two characters, and they take turns unzipping themselves, revealing that they’re some other character. But here, it just makes me think, “How did he fit and not even walk funny?”
And then the other… it’s quite near the end, so I’ll try to talk about it without revealing any details, but a character says something that, while true, could easily be misinterpreted badly, and it was, which a good chunk of the story hinges on. There was apparently nothing to stop the character from being more accurate in the first place, and yet the misperception was allowed to stand. If there is a good use of this plot device, I’m not so sure this is one of them.
Comment by Nyperold | 9 September 2009
That sounds much like what Roger Ebert called an "Idiot Plot": a plot twist that would be entirely resolved except that everybody involved acts like an idiot. It’s very, very common.
I haven’t played Diabolical Box yet (lost my job a while ago, so I’ve been a bit short on money, but I’ll probably get it soon). Looking forward to it, though!
Oh, and, I edited your comment and closed that tag.
Comment by Darien | 9 September 2009