So I played through To The Moon the
other day. Bawled my eyes out, of course, but more to the point, it
got me thinking; what, exactly, makes for a good romantic story in a
video game? Is such a thing even possible given the technology we
have? And is there, in fact, any way to tie a romance into a video
game in any way beyond narrative function (and perhaps a stat boost)?
Let's go through this bit by bit, then.
So what was it about
To The Moon that worked so well? And was anything about the story
something that was uniquely suited to the format? Well, I'm going to
have to make a pretty clear call on this one: no, not really. With To
The Moon, the player is largely regulated to the position of a
passive observer - this is made even more clear as the viewpoint
characters aren't really the protagonists of the story - they (along
with their plot-device technology) are a vehicle to allow access to
the stories' non-linear view of the plot's chronology - the story is
most definitely a love story at its core, but what it does so well is
to actually present this love story as a mystery. In hindsight, none
of the plot revelations should come as a huge surprise - but what it
does very well is to set up a huge number of events and objects,
whose initial presentation is, at best, unclear (and at worst, quite
sinister) - but as you learn more about the character's lives, all
the pieces start to click together, until a particular scene pretty
much snaps everything into place in a moment of wonderful catharsis.
And again, whilst all this is lovely, it's hard to say that the video
game format is something that really works in the story's favour -
the gameplay mostly consists of wondering around. trying to find the
next important thing to click on, and the rest of it is spent trying
to solve extremely simple puzzles. I actually found the puzzle bits
more of an impediment to my enjoyment of the title than anything, and
I'd always try to get them over with as quickly and as cheaply as
possible, just to get to the next plot section so I could dig a
little deeper into the central mysteries of the story. Apart from the
puzzle sections, nothing about this format could not work in the form
of a film or novel. Perhaps, though, there could be something to be
said for the player being able to resolve the mystery at the own pace
making the narrative more involving, but it's a hard call to make -
and also there is a certain amount of charm in the 16-bit rpg style
visuals that would be hard to portray elsewhere without very careful
visual direction.
Perhaps, though, one thing that makes the
story of To The Moon something of a stand-out in the world of video
games is that the relationships between the characters is the
absolute core of the plot. Though there are some titles which have a
romantic sub-plot (or sub-plots), for the vast majority of these
titles they are, at best, window dressing to whatever the central
conflict is (usually good vs evil, human vs nature, human vs technology or some derivative
thereof). That's not to say that they are without their charms -
certainly, the romance sub-plots in many Bioware titles can become
oddly involving, but after you look at them past all the sweet
confessions and awkward avoidance's, it becomes pretty clear that
there isn't all that much substance to them.
Perhaps I should
explain what I mean by a lack of substance, here. Love stories, at
their heart, are the stories of people relating to each other,
usually in a romantic context (there are love stories about other
kinds of love, of course, but they tend not to be as numerous - most
of the tropes carry across, anyway, so there's no real need to go
through them individually). Thus, they are probably the most
character driven stories imaginable - though it's quite possible
(and, indeed common) to create some kind of external problem or
threat to give meat to the story's character conflicts, the very best and most
interesting kinds of conflicts are those born from the characters
themselves - not the least of which because, with interpersonal
conflicts, it's very difficult to simply kill the evil space-fortress
and end the threat (even in a metaphorical sense). So the task
becomes - how does one create believable (if not realistic) conflict
resolution for these kinds of problems? Though perhaps this, in
itself, is a bit misleading - perhaps it's not the conflict itself
that needs resolving in these kinds of stories, but the conflict WITH
the conflict - characters learning how to accept (or not accept) each
other fully is often possibly the most honest resolution one can have
to these kinds of conflicts. This kind of nuance is something that
would be very difficult to portray in the video game format - it's
been noted in several places that in games that have love interests,
they tend to fall into one of two formats - either the object of
romantic pursuit, or a piece of emotional impetus. I found it
somewhat amusing in the Mass Effect series that, though you could
carry romances across multiple titles, when each new title came out
the writers had to think of a new way to keep the romance
interesting. Take the first game, for instance - you're given a
choice of two love interests per sex (one character being romancable
by either sex). The romance in these titles follows the pretty
standard video-game romance format (with the added bonus of the
player having some direction of the course of the romances) - that
is to say, they are all about the first state of the relationship -
the pursuit. If your character is pursuing two characters at once,
you are eventually forced to make a choice between them (or have the
choice made for you). By the final act of the story, the object of
your affections will eventually return them, with the standard kind
of physical affection that's usually portrayed as the 'payoff' for
these kinds of stories. So far, so standard. However, when we move
onto the next game (complete with the feature to 'carry over'
plotlines from the first game via an old save), we start to see the
cracks form in this format. First of all, all your previous love
interests are sidelined for the duration of the title, regulated to
cameos and the like. You are also presented with a largely new cast
of romance options - and in doing so, makes the limitations of these
kinds of romantic storylines in video games clear.
Video
games, are, largely, goal-oriented excersizes. You are given (or you
give yourself) a task to fulfill, and then - working within whatever
boundaries the game prescribes - you attempt to complete it. You'd
be hard pressed to find a video game which didn't strictly adhere to
this premise - indeed, there could be an argument to be made that
without some sort of goal to focus on, there isn't really a game at
all. Thus - though many video game romances of the pursuit ilk can
have layers of witty dialogue and decent characterization to give
them some weight - in the end, once you've reach the 'end' of the
romance, and have secured your paramour's affections - there are no
more goals to be found, there. The 'spark' is gone - the chase is
over, the conflict is resolved. There seems little more for the
narrative to do - so, in Mass Effect's case, its solution is to move
all the old love interests out of sight for a time, and present the
player with a new set. The player may choose to stay faithful to
their previous love interest in they wish - but there is very little
in the way of on-screen interaction between them and the protagonist.
When the third and final game in the trilogy came around, you are
again given the option of carrying over the previous storylines,
including your various romances - and several of the romances return
in full story roles. However, even for the returning characters, the
romance had to be 'reset' - especially true for the romances carried
over from the first game. If you wish to continue that romance, you
are required to 'win' them again. This, I think, amply demonstrates
the problems with this kind of romance approach - by make the object
of the protagonists affections an, - well, an objective, the
narrative has pretty much no where to go once it's obtained.
As
mentioned, the other way that games tend to use love interests is to
have them killed off early in the story to provide character
motivation. And again, no matter how well you write this character,
if their only purpose in the story is to die, it's going to be very
obvious (and feel pretty cheap) to even the most mildly savvy viewer.
There are few games which will even attempt to approach
relationship dynamics in a different way - a notable exception is
Catherine, a game I just completed recently. Though heavily stylized
and containing many supernatural elements, the core conflict - that
of comfort and stability vs freedom and passion - is something that
most games will seldom even attempt to address, as these kinds of
issues are something that only really begin to rear their hand in a
ongoing relationship. The game's far from perfect in this approach (a
lot of the choices come down to the same kind of simple binary
morality that video games have been doing for years), but it deserves
a bit of credit for at least attempting to address something which
most games don't even want to think about.
Another game which
had some fairly interesting romance options was Dragon Age 2 (another
Bioware title) - though the characters themselves are all pretty much
archetypes (though no less fun for that), it's the first time I've
seen the standard 'warrior therapist' role that most rpg protagonists
fall into being, in the instance, a complete failure. Over the game's
10-year time-span, you can become engaged in the lives of several
deeply troubled characters - however, wherein most games, under your
influence they would be able to 'solve' whatever's troubling them and
come out better people, in Dragon Age 2, 3 out of 4 romancable
character do no exhibit any improvements- one of them, in fact,
becomes a lot worse. Though these characters can be encouraged to
share their stories and emotions with the player, they actually have
something of their own agency. Many people will find this off-putting
- part of the reason many people play most video games is to fulfill
particular fantasies, after all - to experience the freedom that
comes with power, be it through strength, or charisma, or some other
virtue. To have a game where your character is, in fact, powerless to
influence the outcome of a particular narrative arc, to change the
course of a character's life how you want it - this would fly in the
face of many people's ideas about what they play games for.
However,
the fact remains - as long as narratives are centered around goals
and power, characters within these narratives will have to follow
suit. In To The Moon's example, it largely removed these
characteristics (goals remain, but they are simple to reach) - but by
doing so it allows the narrative to move in directions that one
seldom finds in this particular medium. It relies on strong
engagement with the characters to keep the player interested, but
sacrifices much in the way of interactivity. Is there a way out of
this particular design trap? Or is the best we can hope for to be
charming stock characters? I think, at the current level of
technology, it might be impossible - and the constraints of design
being focused creating characters the fulfill the player's fantasies
will also limit developer's choices. Titles like To The Moon and
Catherine are both interesting experiments that are perhaps best
admired for the experimental natures than for the final product -
though To The Moon presents a wonderful story, it would be very hard
to recommend it to someone just as a game. If people were more
willing to accept characters who have their own agency (or at least
the illusion of agency), things might start to change, but as it is,
we'll probably just have to settle for every eligible character in a
given title falling over themselves to get the player's attention,
before being quietly sent away or dramatically murdered in the
sequel. In my view, writing a love story works a lot better without having to cater to the player's potential desires.
