The elements of our relationship with weapons in a video game.
Tom Endo at ‘The Escapist’ wrote an observational piece on weaponry in games a while back. The article explored the culture of mythical weapons in film like Dirty Harry’s .44 Magnum or the importance of a gun fight in a Western. Video games, in contrast, have so much gunplay and action that these moments and weapons take on a different meaning. There was an interesting observation in the comment section made by a user named mbvmgb. The mystical element comes from observing someone use the weapon, not to the person using it. A gun becomes a tool once you become accustomed to firing it, so it makes sense that most gamers would not have a sense of personal awe for a weapon. This led to an interesting exchange between a couple of different people , myself included, about what precisely generated the mythical element in a video game since it was no longer an observation. I thought it might be making the characters or roles you inhabit mythical, others argued that there were plenty of weapons that brought out that sense of awe just in different ways. It’s an interesting question: how does one induce the mythic sense of wonder that films can find so easily when it’s the person themselves using the weapon?
A quick search on Digg brings up a 1,000 point dugg piece listing out the top ten weapons in video games. Unlike the typical list where weapon merits tend to devolve into the graphics or ever-unmeasurable ‘cool factor’, the article gives a really interesting ranking method based on how each weapon is earned by the player. How hard the quest to get it was, how expensive the item gets, or just how useful it ends up being in the actual game. The mysticism of a weapon is no longer its use but rather what it takes to attain it and what it can do for you. In many ways it’s like mbvmgb’s observation but there is also the fact that the very world that makes the weapon useful has also been created for it. Half-Life 2’s gravity gun is useful because the developers put together levels that incorporate it, Dark Sector’s glaive weapon is praised with a similar quality. The quality gauge is what kinds of puzzles the game creates for a given tool and how it compares to other weapons in the game. This value is also created by having other weapons in-game to compare it with, how efficient is this tool compared to the others? What makes a weapon better than another in a game is both its function and also the ways it can be used that are appealing to the player. What kind of problems does it allow you to overcome, how does it compare to other weapons, and the amount of time it takes to get it. Even a sword like the ultimate weapon in Disgae is admittedly unnecessary because to get it your party must already be ridiculously strong. But because of the various powers and stat boosts it has, it’s still the most useful weapon in the game compared to all others and it gets on that list as a result.
A similar dumpster dive in Digg brought up a top ten list of similar interest except on my own thought about appreciating the characters we play instead of the weapons they use. Double Viking’s ‘Top Ten Most Badass Video Game Characters’ uses a similarly interesting criteria about how the characters are ranked that doesn’t just rely on the nebulous “Badass” ranking. The various abilities and powers of the character are considered their main virtues. Kratos’s fiery blades, the time dagger of the Prince, or Ryu Hayabusa’s ninja skills are how we identify them. Like the gun argument, the setting is thus an inherent part of the appeal of the character. Ninja Gaiden, for example, is often not really appreciated unless you get a chance to really flex Ryu’s full range of abilities. You have to put the game on tougher difficulties or the enemies don’t stay alive long enough for you to really do a powerful combo on them. Like weapons, the interesting things you can do combined with an environment that makes those abilities exciting is the relationship that makes these characters become mythic. Each character’s actual identity or stories are only mentioned in passing, the list emphasizing that our relationship with the character is now secondary to the story. We relate to these people, first and foremost, by how capable they are in their own setting and how interesting they are to play there.
The coolest sword I’ve ever seen can be found in the Philadelphia Art Museum in the medieval weapons section. It’s a broadsword that has a line from The Aeneid carved into the blade. The original Latin phrase translated to “To every beginning there must be an end.” That is, without a doubt, the most stone cold shit I can think to have on your sword. I don’t remember much about the previous owners, but whoever swung that thing for a living was not someone I’d want to cross. Not so much because of the book quote, but because the person wielding that thing has made some philosophical decisions about life and the ethics of taking it. Decisions that meant taking my life was an option if the question came up. On some levels playing a character or using a weapon are similar, it’s not the tool or actions they’re capable of but the idea of it. It’s playing a person who has gone utterly berserk with rage after the loss of their wife and kids. It’s a gun that can lift any object in the game and throw it around. It’s being a Brooklyn plumber sucked into a bizarre dimension full of mushroom people and saving a princess. The mythical element of weapons in video games is fundamentally different than in movies or books because we are the ones wielding them. We are the ones pointing a .44 Magnum at a criminal and asking them if they feel lucky. If we are not experiencing awe in those moments, then we are certainly enjoying the pleasure of generating it.