Games

Dragon Age: Origins -- Awakening: Death to Text

Having now completed the first large-scale expansion for Dragon Age: Origins, I have this to say: Death to Text!

Bioware, you've spoiled me. All your quality voice acting has left me unwilling and uninterested in reading on screen ever again, at least while I'm playing your games. I loved Dragon Age: Origins and Mass Effect 2. I've played through both of them, twice. I love dialogue trees and chatting with my fellow party members and all the rest. I don't even mind the fact that Dragon Age looks kind of terrible and everyone's swords float three inches away from their backs. It's an age of dragons after all, so, um magic!

But what I can't stand anymore is all the text. I want to hear my character! I want to hear my veteran rogue speak some lines besides, “Done and done,” and “That was easy.” I want her to be a character where right now she's just sort of this blank faced, voiceless mannequin surrounded by much more interesting people. Mass Effect's choice to have a dedicated voice actor (two in fact) and a dedicated name for the main character was clearly the better way to go. I get that this would be a challenge for a game with two different genders and three different races. But you know what? It would've been worth it. I hope that the next game does. Because right now, the conversations aren't working dramatically. I hear an actor speaking one side of the conversation, and I read some necessarily short dialogue options for the other. It just doesn't work anymore.

And if there were a real, live voice actor behind my hero, you could also do something about the clunky way that you hand out side quests. Throughout the Awakenings expansion, I picked up letters or objects that suddenly granted me a new quest. I'd have to pause and open the quest log to see what the hell that was all about. Wouldn't it be grand if, instead, one of the party members said, “Hey, what did you pick up there?” and then my character explained it to both the party member and me (the player) at the same time? See how elegant that is? Elegant and costly and memory hogging and what not. I know, I know. But I know that you've got it in you.

All of which leads me to my biggest gripe, my major complaint, the text that drove me bonkers. If I'd had a real character with a real voice, you never would have had the gall to put that tacked on ending in Awakenings. There's just no way. I see how not having a voice is a problem there because the moment calls for the hero to make a speech, to say something profound. We won! Let's talk about that. I wonder what happened to our other friends? But no, the quickest end boss cut scene in history. Enemy defeated, give it a blank look, turn to leave. Cut to . . . text boxes! Text box after black text box.

Even without a main character supported by a voice actor, someone should've been narrating this stuff. There should've been some animations. As it is, the game just ends, and we get to read about the consequences in squinty little white letters. The first game did this too of course but only after we'd had a chance to watch a long, interactive sequence and then talked with all our old comrades. Here, nothing but dry, history book-style text.

Look, there's a time and a place for the written word. Right now for instance, with me ranting about it this is a good time and place. The finale of an interactive experience? Not the place. If I'd been reviewing this expansion, it would be a significant ding against Awakenings's final score. The disappointment was that big.

In many ways, Dragon Age: Origins is only a partial success. As noted, it looks less than thrilling a lot of the time. The combat can be clunky and frustrating. But the story, ahhh . . . the story. That's what keeps me coming back for more. I'll happily play along with the graphics and combat as is if only Bioware will just live up to their true, fully voiced storytelling potential.

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"Now I am just more tired and poor. So no, I haven't changed. I'm just older and more tired," says French radio journalist and documentarian Sonia Kronlund, as she looks back on the experience of making The Prince of Nothingwood (2017).

Joining Salim Shaheen, the most popular and prolific actor-director-producer in Afghanistan on his 111th no budget feature, Kronlund documents the week-long shoot and the events surrounding it. She crafts an insight into a larger than life persona, yet amidst the comedy and theatricality of Shaheen and his troupe of collaborators, she uncovers the heavier tones of the everyday reality of war and patriarchal oppression. If The Prince of Nothingwood will popularly be remembered for celebrating the creative spirit of its star, it is equally an important communication on Afghanistan, it's culture and its people. Alongside the awareness of the country cultivated by mainstream media news outlets, Kronlund's film offers an insight into a country that can humanise the prejudice and xenophobic tendencies of a western perspective towards Afghanistan.

In October of this year at the UK premiere at the BFI London Film Festival, Kronlund spoke with PopMatters about being driven by questions rather than inspiration. She also reflected on the subjective nature of documentary filmmaking, the necessary artistic compromises of filming in Afghanistan, and feeling a satisfaction with imperfections.

Why filmmaking as a means of expression? Was there an inspirational or defining moment?

Not really, no. I have always done documentary. I used to write scripts and TV series but I only make documentaries myself for radio and television. For this story, I figured out after a while that it deserved a bigger ambition and a bigger screen and that's why I don't very much believe in inspiration. To be honest, I made this film because I had to do something. I didn't have a big project where I thought: I want to make this. I went there and I found a little money and at the end the ambition and the inspiration came along the way. But there was not an urgent necessity to make this film. It fits with a lot of things that I'm interested in, like popular culture -- What does art stand for and why do we go to the cinema? What is the purpose? This is a question I'm interested in, but inspiration, not so much.

Has The Prince of Nothingwood provided you with the answers to those questions?

It has, and I hope it helps people to think about this question. It tells you that there is an urgent need to make images, to make films, even during war,and even if you don't have the money. And even if the films are not very good, they will find somebody who will like them. So something is going to happen, and I think that's very touching. I don't like Shaheen's films, I hardly watched them -- I paid somebody to watch them. But I'm very moved by all these people that do like his films, and it makes you think about the value of art and the purpose of why we make cinema. I used to study aesthetics in London, so it was one of the questions I had and while the film is lighter than this, that's what was in mind.

The film uses Shaheen as a doorway, beginning as a story about one man which becomes a story about Afghanistan, its people and culture.

Yeah, but it's not so much about Afghanistan and it's not my purpose is to say things about the country. There's one guy like him in Iran who makes cowboy movies in the Iranian desert and there's also a guy like that in Tunisia. I mean you have this person with an urgent need to film whatever they have under their hand and since it's war, then it tells you something about the war. But it's not so much interested in him.

There was a lot of editing, 148 hours that you haven't seen [laughs]. Making a documentary is really telling a story and I don't have any idea of objectivity -- it is my point of view on Shaheen. Some people say to me that they would like to show his films, that they really want to see his films, and I say: "You don't see how much I have edited. I show you the very nice parts of his films." People think he's a great filmmaker and that's the story I wanted to tell -- but I could have told another story.

To my mind, objectivity is a human construct, a falsity that does not exist.

Except mathematics maybe, and sometimes physics.

The purist opinion of documentary as objective is therein built on a faulty premise. From the subjective choices of the filmmakers that bleed into the film to the subjectivity of the subjects, it's not purely objective. Hence, it calls into question the traditional dividing line of the objectivity of documentary and the subjectivity of narrative fiction.

Totally! It's the editing, and why you chose this guy, how you film it and what you show, or what you don't show. It's not only subjectivity, it's storytelling. Not many people ask me about this, they take it for granted that it's the real Shaheen. But I'm not lying, I'm not saying things that aren't true, but I am telling a story, a fictional story out of what I filmed. I took scenes that happened one day and I put them with another story that happened three months later and that's why we had seven months of editing with three editors. So it was a lot of work.

One of the striking aspects of the film are the light and comedic moments offset by a darker and heavier sensibility, which include moments when, for example, Shaheen talks about arranged marriages.

We made 70rough cuts and there was one version we tested and you couldn't believe you were in Afghanistan. People would say: "Oh this is too funny. You don't see Afghanistan, it's just a bunch of crazy guys." I then said: "Let's put in a little more darkness." You then have to strike a balance and to me, if it's not perfect, I'm happy.

Shooting the film in a dangerous and volatile part of the world, was the approach that once you had enough footage you then looked to shaping the film in the edit?

It's not when you feel you have enough, it's finding a balance between security and artistic concerns. That's it. You have a plan and you have an agenda. There are things you want to do, but it has to be balanced with security concerns. The real story I was going to tell about Shaheen I found in the editing room and in the end, I only kept five days of the shoot. The whole film takes place in Bamyan (Province), nothing in Kabul, although I had weeks and weeks of footage there that I had to take away.

There's a moment when Shaheen asks if you are scared, which sees him verbalise our silent recognition of your boldness and courage to bring this story to the screen.

It's very difficult and it's not like you are walking in the street and there's a bomb. This is not what's difficult. The difficulty is to cope with your fear and to have rules and to follow or to not follow those rules. There are many foreign people that never go out at all in Kabul -- it is forbidden. You have British diplomats who do not even drive their car from the airport to the embassy -- they will take an helicopter that costs £2,000 each way. Then you have foreign people who walk in the street without a scarf -- these girls get kidnapped.

In between these you have Shaheen, who is telling me all the time that I'm too scared, because it's a man's value to be brave and he's a brave guy, there's no question about that. He was in an attack two weeks ago. There was a bomb in a Shia Mosque and he helped to carry out the bodies. So there's no kidding about the fact that he's a brave guy and he has to be because he's been fighting to make his films. But you are in the middle of this and I'm not a brave person at all and I don't think being brave is a very important question. It is, but I'm not brave, I'm very scared and so in the middle of all of this stress it's enough just to manage to not go crazy, or to not drink too much [laughs].

Salim Shaheen and Sonia Kronlund (courtesy of Pyramide Films)

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