Before I get started, a quote that almost completely fails to relate to the topic at hand:
“Dear Japan: Please reconsider cartoon, gun-toting, big-eyed pre-pubescent blondes as your national hero! … Bit of a Sailor Moon thing, there…”
Mike Nelson, Mystery Science Theater 3000
(If you can name the episode, please let me know. I’m pretty sure it was one of those awful ones where invaders from space attack Japan and are thwarted by some cheeky guy in a bad costume. Ben, I’m counting on you.)
Where was I? Oh, yes. Cartoon violence. To be more accurate, cartoon-class violence in the electronic games I play.
When a hot new game comes out, it tends to be lauded for one of two qualities: Superior realism or great gameplay. Quake versus Duke Nukem 3D. Quake III Arena versus Unreal Tournament. (There are similar pairings in the non-shooter game genres, I’m just too lazy to think of any right now.) While the first Quake was a marvel of gaming technology, Duke Nukem was an absolute delight to play. Sure it had some of the worst-looking sprite-based graphics of all time, but you kept going back for more because it was fun. Quake wasn’t fun. Quake was an exercise in admiring the technical prowess of its programmers.
Cut to a few years ago. This time it’s another iD Software product against (surprise) another Epic Megagame. Quake III Arena is an undeniable triumph of gaming technology… but Unreal Tournament is a far more enjoyable game. The gap is narrower, but still distinct. Q3A has remarkable lighting and modeling technology, while UT has nice big cartoony weapons that do cool things. Guess which one I played more of?
Imagine my disappointment with the new UT game, Unreal Tournament 2003. The demo is pretty, very very pretty. It’s also… not quite as much fun to play. It’s gone “real.” The modelling is nicer, the level design is better, and you just plain can’t blow stuff up the way you could in the first UT. I think that with better weapons it could be a great game. As it is, I have to work way too hard to blow stuff up.
I can hear the gaming purists now. “What? Realism is a triumph of gaming technology! You should have to work harder for each frag! You suck.” That’s not why I play games, dammit. If I wanted to work hard, I’d go back to the office. I play games for the simple reason that I want to unwind. Odd notion, that. If I’m going to play a shooter, there should be big cartooney weapons that blow things way, way up. I don’t even mind getting fragged as long as the means of my demise are spectacularly cool.
There’s a strong possiblity that I’m not an ideal gamer. So what? Fitting in with the crowd has never been one of my driving impulses, thank you muchly. (You simply need to gaze upon my collection of vests to have that point driven home.)
I do have another reason to prefer less-realistic gaming fare, however. My children not only play some of these games, but also see me playing them. Once the characters and weapons become too real, once the blood and gore seem to be that of real beings, I believe it sets a bad parenting example to encourage playing the game. Before you laugh at this prudish belief coming from the likes of myself, at least stop a moment to respect the fact that this is my decision as a father in regards to how I choose to raise my children. Think about how many parents out there may not give a damn about what games their children are playing. What else in their kids’ lives are they not paying attention to?
For the record, my kids are allowed to play Diablo II, Unreal Tournament (with the gore levels set to nil) and a variety of other games. My son, on his own initiative, ceased playing UT for a number of months because he felt that playing a violent game was counteracting his efforts at controlling his temper. We talk about the games we play, about reality versus fantasy, and about a whole host of other issues. If letting them play some of these games makes me a bad parent, then making sure that I’m both involved in their activities and discussing things with them should at least balance that out.
Reality is parenting and my work. Fantasy is demolishing pixellated monsters in spectacular and cartooney ways. There are worse ways to be.
