Why I Don't Want to Be a Grammar Nazi

Okay, let's talk about grammar.

No, wait! Come back!

Variations of this article have been circulating recently. Some of the reporting on the story has made claims like 'these people are destroying our language' and 'I can't believe it! The idiots have won!', and my personal favourite, "the battle for the English language has been lost". My reaction was not any of those.

Stupid kids with their newfangled Norman words. This is why we can't have nice things.

I'm sure you're familiar with the kind of argument I'm going to make. Languages change, or every new Tom Clancy chapter would be opened with 'Hwæt!" (although that could be pretty cool). Linguistic change is not something that can be stopped. It can be shaped, but the number of influences involved and the tendency of speakers to ignore certain influences and authorities while latching onto others makes change hard to engineer. If you're really lucky, you get to be Fowler or Strunk and White, the revered usage guide writers, and have your personal preferences taught to generations of children as gospel truths, creating the new standard. Of course, that doesn't stop all sorts of contradictory information being provided on the topic of grammar, spelling and punctuation. Often your idea of correct grammar is greatly influenced by schoolteachers treating their personal style as 'good grammar', and stupidly archaic 'rules' based on Latin rather than English grammar that have absolutely no effect on comprehension. Interestingly, grammar and usage experience change among language users in spite of these grammatical prescriptions, and we are beautifully creative with our language and grammar, whether it be for art or just kyut lolcats.

Now don't get me wrong -- I fix people's grammar and spelling for a living. I know that there are standards of grammar, and I enforce those standards, but only in certain contexts. Much like the way that you dress up for an interview and may wear an otherwise useless item like a tie, and much like you put a product through QA, a certain standard language is used in some contexts to create the idea of competence and professionalism. One of the hardest lessons for me as someone involved in language teaching and editing was that being a grammar Nazi is not a good thing. Shaming people into using 'correct' grammar and spelling is not helpful, and it is one of the worst approaches to error correction. People do not like listening to people who treat them like idiots. Correction is not the same as shaming. Shaming perpetuates the idea that English (in this case) is hard, and it creates a barrier between you and the person you are trying to help (if that is really your motivation). I will, however, correct the spelling and language of professionals and businesses without any reservations. It makes no sense to me that a company would attempt to impress potential customers with advertising and PR and then not check the quality of those communications.

In the context of the internet, correcting grammar (ironically*, a word that is usually used when 'spelling' is meant) is a well worn method of derailing an argument (You spelt 'your' wrong! Your argument is totally invalid now!). Although this is an irrelevant point where trolls are concerned, snobbery is not really a likable personality trait. Grammar Nazism is also a great way of setting yourself up for embarrassment when you inevitably slip up, or when you are ignorant of a particular construction, spelling or item of usage. It happens. Look, even Stephen Fry, god of language, and Bernard Pivot, who used to run the popular French national dictation competition (yes really), have made typos, spelling and grammatical errors on Twitter. Someone will very gleefully point it out if you do this, especially if the error is made in your correction of someone else's errors. It doesn't help that the more you delve into usage and grammar, as with many objects of study, the more the answer to many issues is 'it depends', rather than a hard and fast rule.

So, after that necessary digression, back to the word 'literally'. If you correct someone's use of the word, it means that you know what they intended. Communication has taken place. And communication is not dependent on which words are 'real dictionary words' accepted by the dictionary lords. Dictionaries describe language; they do not create it. Of course, low prestige usages are marked in such a way that your opinion of the speaker/writer can be affected, but the function of language as a method of communicating information has hardly been eroded by the introduction of a new usage. People are pretty good at interpreting these sorts of things and figuring out what the message was. Unfortunately, they are also really good at picking your word choice and accent apart for clues that can help them to place you in a category, brand you a moron and maybe not give you a certain job or status. Maintaining that sort of social identity is one of the other main functions of language, and it's why a standard form of English is taught to help people to access a more prestigious sector of society. It's not fair, but it happens.

The bottom line is that I'm getting tired of explaining why I am not a gatekeeper of English and why I let so many 'errors' slide. When I do correct usage, it is usually in a professional capacity or ironically, but the joke can fall flat if the people that I am correcting assume that I have a draconian stance on correction. The issue is much more complex than right and wrong. So, please, don't be a dick about it.

*See also: 'literally'.

Legitimacy and the Citizen Kane of Gaming

I told myself that I was not going to write about this topic, but here we are. Back to video games.

In the last month or so, there has been some debate about whether or not we have seen the Citizen Kane of gaming. Both Bioshock Infinite (snort) and The Last of Us have been mentioned as recent contenders to this title. There are others. Many, many others.

In the name of Kane, in the name of Kane...

The idea is that a game will come along one day (or has come along already) that will redefine games the way that Citizen Kane was supposed to have redefined and legitimised cinema as an art form -- one that could stand up to its more recognised peers. Now, others have (rightly) argued that comparing a games to films is a mistake that does a disservice to the medium. There is a common idea that we need that one true gaming masterpiece, not just to be the medium's centrepiece, but to legitimise gaming as a whole. Comparisons between apples and oranges aside, that's a lot of work for one game to do.

The use of Citizen Kane as a go-to point for the legitimacy of gaming as an art form is interesting. A bit of history: while the film was critically praised, it was not necessarily popularly recognised as the immortal, genre-defining work that we know it as today. Not until it was brought to France a few years after its release receiving praise there by several famous figures, including Jean-Paul Sartre, and held up as an example by influential critics such as André Bazin, whose works are used to train cinematographers even today.

So, was the influence of Citizen Kane on cinema simply a result of its existence, or a result of its legitimisation? It may very well have been both, as a work of quality was probably necessary to elicit this kind of response, but without it, would Citizen Kane still be considered the best film ever made? The general acceptance or praise of a work as something to aspire to is not only the result of its quality -- the context in which it is received has to be ready to accept its influence, and needs to be prepared to praise it. The right people may be needed to draw the 'right' (influential, literate) public's attention to it. There is a lot of art that really is before its time, and when society is ready to accept it, influential voices sometimes return to the work of a struggling, unrecognised artist and then give it the praise it deserves. Or it is simply lost forever.

You may be wondering why I went off on that tangent to explain what made Citizen Kane 'great', when my point was supposed to be about games. What I wanted to highlight is that being good does not make something  genre-defining, influential or even commonly known. I don't really believe in universal masterpieces anyway*. Legitimacy comes from outside of the ordinary masses who consume the art. It also doesn't just come from art critics' and famous philosophers' endorsements. What art mostly needs in order to gain legitimacy is time, a social environment that will accept it (which may come with the passing of time), and a whole lot of luck. And we already have a certain social environment that accepts games. Should we then still try to court those in the ivory tower? Should we just wait? I don't know. We should just try to make the best games we can, and support what we like.

I can say honestly that good games alone will probably not give wider legitimacy to games as an art form (if that is what you are really after). And that being said, seeking legitimacy for the games that we play will not make us make or play better games. Innovation, if not legitimacy, comes from within, and not from seeking approval from those whose opinions are confined by what already exists. We don't need a feature on Minecraft in Time Magazine to legitimise gaming among ourselves. We don't need to scramble for the attention and affection of people who do not like what we like, because that way, we give the power to decide what is good to them. Games sell, people like them, people are trying new things (they are), and people who quietly appreciate and have appreciated games before are becoming more and more visible.

I'm also not trying to argue the part of the misunderstood genius here, sulking because The Man doesn't get the art I like. Then again, maybe I'm wrong, and games are now in the process of being legitimised. I'm also not going to get in the way of anyone discussing and appreciating something that they consider to be genius. I love that sort of thing. These kinds of broad, sensational statements just need a little questioning, that's all.

*Full disclosure: I still really, really like Citizen Kane. But maybe you don't.

How About Reading the Classics?

My book collection is very odd. I have classic books that I love -- Medieval, Romantic, Victorian, Modernist,  Contemporary -- all jammed up next to each other and piled on top of one another in no particular system, and interspersed with recent science fiction books, thrillers and more. What I like is stories, and I love all media that tell stories. Everyone (probably) has books that they would personally consider classics, even if they're pulpy adventure books or romances, and that's okay. But I'd like to put a case forward for reading some books you may not have tried from The Classics. Reading older books is often considered an irrelevant chore. They may even have been 'ruined' for you by some awful high school teachers. But they really are useful, and with the right mindset, reading them can turn out to be some of your favourite experiences. So, why read the classics?

1. The 'olden days' are not a thing
When are the classics set? They're set in 'the olden days', right? This is that perfect time when everyone was polite, children listened to their parents and nobody had sex, or even wanted to. Ever. For maybe 2000 years, everyone is meant to have lived in these mysterious 'olden days'. There's this strangely common idea that the modern world is the only time rapid societal change has ever happened or affected anyone personally. Things like the invasion of 'barbarians' and Romans, the Industrial Revolution, the discovery of the New World, human rights and rights for women, the invention of weapons of mass destruction, the first missions into space (space! think about it), profoundly affected the people who witnessed them (and these are mainly examples we know from western, English-speaking society). We can hardly say that these developments, and many other less talked-about ones, were less important to the people of the time than the rise of American cultural dominance, the internet and global terrorism were to the world today, and the end of apartheid was to us in South Africa. There are as many individual genres, stories and ideas in the classics than there are in the stories we consume now. Reading books written in other social and historical contexts gives a window into a place and time that is unlike, and similar to our own.

2. You don't read to experience what you experience every day
Fantasy and science fiction are very popular genres. Readers love being transported to different, well-constructed societies and settings, and old books do the same, except they may not be as generous with the exposition. If you're going to escape, you may as well also have the option of escaping to another time and place that really existed (or another time's perspective on one that didn't), and have the added bonus of learning about the way that real societies worked and the values they may have had that may not be the same as those you assumed they would have. Characters (and authors) can have revolutionary worldviews that were not necessarily popularised or passed on in modern culture as indicative of a certain generation.

3. People never change
This may be a personal belief, but, while societies change, and beliefs change, people's core natures stay the same. People have the same motivations (love, hate, lust, survival, greed, a wish to have control or security...), and these echo what you see now. A new perspective (for you) on an aspect of human nature can be a revelation that affects you for life, and the more of these perspectives you expose yourself to, the better. The fact that someone made an observation long before you were born doesn't make it less valid. On top of this, the topics that the many, many books available to you deal with are inspired by people. Did old people never talk about, or experience things that we consider 'edgy' now? Sex, violence, profanity and more are all available to you, if potential stuffiness is what's putting you off.

4. Because nobody is telling you how to feel about them now 
If the other three points haven't been convincing, then maybe this one will be better. If you studied books or plays at school, you were often tested on them, and made to learn and study ready-made interpretations. I admit that I was not particularly brilliant at high school English lit for this reason. The liberating thing is realising that you are allowed to dislike a book without anyone telling you that it's wrong to, or that its 'uncultured' or that you're 'too stupid to get it'. You can just stop reading if you're not interested. Just because a book's a classic doesn't mean that it has universal appeal, and you don't even have to think that it's any good. You can file old alongside new, and have your own personal classics. And, importantly, you can take whatever message you want from the books that you read. It doesn't even matter if it was the author's intended message. The only thing that matters is that you get to figure things out for yourself and expose yourself to ideas beyond the same ideas that we are exposed to every day, and break out of the 'ordinary' mindset for our time and context. You can meet some brilliant characters without some boring schoolmarm's version of them affecting your own. You can even try a few books and then totally dismiss my views, if you like.

So, recommendations. How about trying (from easiest to most challenging):

Alice's Adventures in Wonderland  You know the story. But really, the details in Caroll's original are witty, silly and just way better than any adaptation you've seen.

The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes With the number of crime and detective stories we see today, it may be interesting to see some of the first. And if you enjoyed the BBC's Sherlock, reading these stories will show you all sorts of great easter eggs.

Jorge Luis Borges' Ficciones A true master of speculative fiction (if that's even what his short stories are), Borges experiments with all kinds of 'what if' situations that are unmatched to this day.

The Picture of Dorian Gray A story of debauchery and corruption with a supernatural twist. Need I say more?

The stories of H.P. Lovecraft You haven't read these? Oh, come on. Unfathomable terrors await!

Jane Eyre Romance, a brilliant critique of religion's bond with society, witty banter, a little horror, and almost anachronistic-seeming feminism. It's famous for a reason.

Crime and Punishment Do you like Dexter for the way that it takes the murderer's point of view? This novel is a thought-provoking whydunnit that gives insight into what 19th-century St Petersburg was like.

Many books are available as free ebooks on Project Gutenberg or second hand, so that may be helpful. You may even like to use Sparknotes (or even the brilliant Thug Notes) to get up to speed on the major points of a book. Reading up on historical issues or unknown terms on Wikipedia could also make many things clearer and provide context (your fantasy- and sci-fi-style world-building and exposition). So, how about reading the classics?

Morality in Games: Part 5

If you've been following this (possibly overlong) series, you've seen some approaches that games have had to the concept of morality: what happens when you give players a choice (and what happens when you don't), what kinds of choices can be presented, and how they can be framed and interpreted within the context of a game system. With all of the problems I've highlighted, is there a future for the morality system?

Arguably the best way to break out of the kinds of limitations and contradictions present in player-driven character building in games is simply to provide more options. The more options are provided, the more complex the morality system. But this is clearly not feasible. Keeping track of vast numbers of variables and creating content for each possibility is extremely difficult and time consuming. Another possibility is to break away from binary morality and use another system.

The CRPGs based on the Dungeons and Dragons system have tried to implement the pen-and-paper game's non-binary two-axis alignment system (based on ethics -- chaos/law, and morality -- good/evil), but it has been restricted in some cases to prevent players choosing any of the evil alignments. It has also been historically difficult to maintain a neutral alignment in these games. Nevertheless, it is a well-established system that allows for a bit more nuance in moral (and ethical) alignment. More complex models like this one could be useful, but ultimately still include the reductive good/evil dichotomy that has so little relevance to the way that moral questions are often considered in other storytelling media not aimed at children or indoctrination.

Many of the moral 'problems' I've discussed in previous parts concern conflicts between game and story (the fashionable term being bandied about lately is ludonarrative dissonance). The truth is that most games with morality systems consider the morality and the core gameplay mechanics to be separate entities, or flavoursome sprinkles on the top of an established game mechanic. In the interest of more novel experiences, 'traditional', explicit morality systems seem to be falling out of favour. For example, this sort of system, used in BioShock, was later subverted in BioShock Infinite: your choices, while appearing to be significant, have no bearing on the plot or protagonist's nature whatsoever. The wish to tell a story with clear themes and messages and the wish to have a player control that story or its characters' natures appear to be in opposition. The way that storytelling has become an important part of gaming means that we either continue to suspend disbelief when confronted with system-narrative conflicts, or hope for new developments that will fit the two together more neatly, without the need for obvious imitation of other mediums.

Nevertheless, the way that morality is dealt with in games has either been similar to the approach of other media, which already allows for impactful characters and stories if done well, or based on player choice that blends this approach with  involvement, which can be enlightening and revelatory for players if done well.

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Morality in Games: Part 4 — Character-driven Morality

Previously, I wrote about how the cast of Mass Effect represented different moralities, and how the player was given a different framework from the supporting characters to work within. Introducing characters that make them care enough to have have an effect on the player's decisions is difficult, but the displeasure of our most liked characters has probably caused a savegame reload or two. Several games have used supporting characters to influence the moral decisions of the player, and some have done this more or less effectively as a way to complicate binary morality.

This is you in video games. True story.

The numerical approval systems of Obsidian's Knights of the Old Republic 2 and BioWare's Dragon Age can open up dialogue options (and resulting backstory) with various characters, and trigger possible romances. A varied cast of characters can avoid a situation where 'good' is praised and other actions not, and characters conflicting with the player character based on his/her actions certainly makes them more interesting. However, the ability to choose dialogue options that you consider to be what the character wants to hear, as well as the ability to bribe characters into liking you with gifts, both result in another instance where the game is put before the narrative. Wanting to please everyone (and being able to) also results in an almost schizophrenic character whose values depend on who he/she is talking to and what the player happens to want from them, especially since choosing a dialogue option usually results in a very sincere sounding, but often meaningless exchange. Of course, getting everyone to like you (or sleep with you) is a goal that many gamers will want to 'achieve', and this will almost inevitably be at the expense of a truly coherent and impactful player character.

Don't tell me you're not touched, you liar. 

Using characters' reactions to affect decisions can be done effectively. In Telltale's The Walking Dead, the player relies on their own moral compass to make choices, as well as the effects and potential reactions their actions will create. While many choices involve a decision between an action that is practical and an action that is honourable, this is complicated by a cast of characters who very often do not agree with your reasoning, and who may have their own motivations. The fact that Lee Everett is not in a leadership position, as many characters are also makes appeasing the other characters more difficult. People will do as they please and follow their own objectives regardless of your own views of their plans, and disagreement can damage relationships and often create more conflict than in other games, where the characters, while important, are incidental to the main story. In The Walking Dead, the characters are the narrative. There is no grand quest apart from survival, and everyone has their own ideas about how this will be achieved.

The moral decisions that Lee has to make go in two directions: towards or against the values of normal society. He has to decide whether the values before the walkers came are worth preserving, or if they are a hindrance to the goal of survival. It would be easier to choose self-preservation and survival at all costs if it weren't for one thing: Clementine. Clementine (age 8, adorable) represents everything positive about society, and you can choose to teach her either that society (and its values) is gone, or that there is hope for things to remain as they were. Of course, keeping her innocent and protected means that she will not gain the skills she needs to navigate and cope with the new world and protect herself. And in the end, you can't protect her from all of the horrible things happening around her. So you can choose the new world, where what was considered a crime is permitted for the sake of survival, or the old, where sacrifices are made in order to remain moral. And in many situations, the only factor keeping you from choosing a certain option is that Clementine protests or will be hurt or tainted somehow. Knowing that whatever you do is something that will shape the life of a child makes the kinds of self-serving decisions that are so common in the win-at-all-costs mentality of gaming much more difficult.

On top of this, you are made accountable for Lee's actions. Making a choice (or not) is difficult, but the game also often makes you defend your decisions, and explain them in a way that makes them acceptable to others. This is uncomfortable, and that is good.

There is a lot of potential in this character-driven kind of morality system, and it would be interesting to see what can be done when underlying binary morality shown in even these games is abandoned entirely.

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Morality in Games: Part 3 — Mass Effect and Morality

Not all morality systems are a good/evil binary. There are a few types of morality system that avoid good and evil as their direct reference points. For this post, I’ll look at the Mass Effect games as an example of a different kind of morality, and the way that different moralities are showcased through the different characters. Since the games have been popular, I'm assuming they'll be a good example that most people have played.

WARNING: MASS EFFECT SERIES SPOILERS THROUGHOUT THIS POST. FAMILIARITY WITH CHARACTERS AND PLOT POINTS IS ASSUMED.

Anyone wonder why I didn't mention Mass Effect's Paragon/Renegade system as an example of a good/evil morality system? Well, that's because I don't entirely believe that it is one. While it suffers from similar problems, it deals with something that is not good and evil (though some choices are that blatant). Instead, it involves a choice between Practicality and Honour. Of course, it's not the only example of this kind of morality, but it raises some interesting issues.

He has a point, really.

No matter how you play Commander Shepard, she* is going to be a Big Damn Hero, and her goal is going to be the same. There is no playthrough where Shepard doesn't want to stop the Reapers and save everyone. But how she goes about can be different. The dichotomy involved is more one of kindness/expedience than good/evil. Shepard can punch a reporter or shout at the Citadel Council, but it's because people aren't giving the necessary attention to the dire situation she is trying to save everyone from. Renegade Shepard does not appreciate time-wasting or diplomacy, and will save the universe the way she wants, whether anyone likes it or not. Paragon Shepard chooses to prioritise the needs of the few, showing kindness to individuals that may not lead to the most elegant solutions. This dichotomy both retains some old problems (‘grey’ characters are penalised) and introduces a new set of moral problems, especially when players consider Paragon choices to be ‘right’ and Renegade choices to be ‘wrong’. Often, the way these choices are framed makes it clear that they are not an issue of right and wrong or good and evil. Unfortunately, the game may later decide that the choices were about that after all. For example, at the end of Mass Effect 1, you are given a choice: expend resources and divert ships to save the Citadel Council, or concentrate them on saving the Citadel itself and attacking Sovereign. This is the information you are given, and it is not a simple decision. I chose to save the Citadel and prioritise the main threat: Sovereign. Unfortunately, for the next two games, this was interpreted by absolutely every other character as having "left the Council to die" because you hated them. In the second game, considering Paragon choices to be good would mean condoning tampering with what were clearly the identities of sentient beings (the Geth) as the 'good' option. The games often frame these decisions as difficult as you decide, but greatly simplify them later on. Viewing them as real moral choices is the narratively interesting view, but they can be seen as simple opportunities to score ‘red’ or ‘blue’ points. Granted, this is very much like real life, where the way your choices are interpreted is not necessarily the same as the way you intended for them to be interpreted, and the factors that you considered when making them are not always visible to those judging them.

Interestingly, what BioWare does do in Mass Effect is give Shepard her own binary morality system and dump her in a distinctly grey setting. Mass Effect 2 does this particularly well. Take a 100% Paragon Shepard, lightly kill her, and resurrect her in the employ of the Bad Guys, and clear morality gets pushed out of the way for the sake of story. Granted, the evil of Cerberus is only really well established if you play ME1 pretty thoroughly, but I would argue that before ME2, their space racism, elaborate Bond-villainesque murder of their opponents and biological experiments go well beyond just Renegade choices. And just as you felt any sympathy for their devotion to beating the Reapers at any cost, the Illusive Man goes full cackling villain and gets himself stupidly Reaper-indoctrinated in ME3. So, as much as Shepard would like to stay an unblemished Jedi Knight, it’s just not possible. And when you’re forced to make deals with the likes of the Illusive Man, Urdnot Wrex and Aria T’Loak and may have chosen to welcome hardened self-confessed criminals and unrepentant murderers onto your ship, even being 100% Paragon can never mean being 100% morally okay.

A bunch of lovable murderers

On top of that, the cast of characters show a broad spectrum of moralities. It is indisputable that all of the potential party members have killed and will kill at Shepard’s word. Despite this, some characters consider themselves guilty, others noble, and some just don’t care. Some have beliefs that absolve them of guilt or responsibility for their actions: Thane separates the actions of his body and his spirit, and Samara accepts a ready-made morality system so that she will always know how to do the right thing – except that she doesn’t. Mordin committed a terrible crime, but believes that it was for the best. Morinth, through her rejection by society, embraces and enjoys her power and ability to kill. Jack had little choice but to become a killing machine, and suppresses her morals. Garrus (probably the only Renegade in the way Shepard can be) believes that rules and laws prevent true justice. Shepard, Paragon or Renegade, believes it is her task to save the universe. Going through all of them would take forever, and some of their views change over time, but each party member has his/her own morality independent of the Paragon/Renegade system.

The complex moralities that the Mass Effect series expects you to consider seem to prove the limitations of containing complex characterisation in a binary moral system. Shepard is not free to act as she wishes -- dialogue choices and actions are often a choice between Paragon, Renegade and neutral, the situations and characters you are placed in as a player cannot be contained in this system very easily, especially if it is equated with a choice between good and bad. Of course, game systems will always constrain the player from going crazy and doing whatever he/she wants, or they wouldn't really be game systems. In the end, everyone is greyer than Shepard is on paper (screen?), with choices divided between two extremes. But, I suppose that's okay, since Paragon and Renegade are both two types of hero -- you just get to decide, within the choices you're given, which of those kinds of hero your Shepard is.

*Yes, SHE. I don’t know who that guy on the box is. Your Shepard may be an underwear model, but who’s writing the article here? 


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Morality in Games: Part 2

Morality is about good and evil. Right and wrong. At least, it is in most video games. Games with clear systems of moral choice allow us to be sure of which is which, something that is clearly problematic in real life, or even in more complex fictional narratives. Unfortunately, the view shown in these types of games seems to be more in line with Saturday-morning cartoons than the great works of literature and film. And while attempts have been made to create more complex moral commentary, dual good/evil morality systems often get in the way of a nuanced experience or character. There are the good guys and the bad guys, and there are good actions and bad actions.

Morality systems built around extremes of good and evil create certain problems. Choosing between good and evil, or good, evil and neutrality in some cases, requires that these choices are clearly flagged. This results in a system where when you're good, you're very very good, and when you're bad, you're horrid. Extremely polarised dialogue choices make your character seem preachy and naive when good, or they make you into a petulant child when evil: seemingly badass threats fizzle when you're repeatedly told that you're going to have to do the quest the way everyone else does, no matter how scaawy you are. if you decide to be neutral, the game probably won't like you keeping it up for long.

Not going to score any points with this lady.

Because the mechanic is often points based (even if this is not transparent), getting all the points is an enticing goal for players. Doing all the quests and talking with all the people in the game is often rewarded through points granted within the morality system, and this means that maximising one extreme is probably going to be considered an indicator of success. Sometimes, indecisive players will be actively penalised because the middle ground is numerically the same as having earned zero morality 'points'. Because of these factors, bonuses are seldom assigned for neutral alignment. This is especially frustrating in games like the Knights of the Old Republic games, where some of the most interesting party members are neutral, but the game seems to ignore the possibility that a player may like to be the same. This means that these RPGs are less about the RP and more about the G -- be consistent, and you're playing the game. The temptation to maximise one alignment means that your character becomes a boring type, rather than a complex, personal character.

Statistics have shown that the majority of players, when given the choice, choose to be good. This happened in both Fable and the Mass Effect series (spoilers). This could be because people are socially conditioned to prefer good options: being nice is... nice. Another likely reason is the way that games with morality systems reward players for their choices. it usually works like this: evil choices are usually rewarded with money and stuff, and good players are rewarded with praise. Some of you may argue that the loot is better, but people in general seem to like the approval more. Being chided is not something they enjoy. It also doesn't help that people don't enjoy the idea that being good makes you radiantly pretty, while being evil just makes you look like you've got lupus.

The narrative, however, has some requirements, and telling the story that the writer(s) want to tell you in a game can often interfere with this black/white moral division. Given a context, knowing whether an action is ultimately good or evil is unclear. Luckily, the design of the game often conveniently helps you to tell the difference. In the otherwise excellent game Red Dead Redemption, the needs of the story (the titular Redemption in particular), as well as the character of John Marston as he is portrayed in dialogue and cutscenes conflict with the very underdeveloped 'honor' system. You can earn an outlaw outfit and rob and kill everyone you meet. You can steal horses. You can even cheat at poker (gasp!). NPCs will display unease around you if your 'honor' is low, but Marston will be visibly uneasy about performing morally questionable acts in the story missions. Marston's Redemption is happening, whether you want it to or not.

I'm not criticising the idea of good/evil morality systems, but where these systems badly interfere with decent characterisation and a player's moral choice being about morals rather than rewards, some thought is needed. Next time, I'll be discussing morality systems that involve variables other than good and evil, and see if they offer any improvements on the good/evil system.

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Part 5

Morality in Games: Part 1

Morality, other than that thing that inconveniently stops us from stabbing our coworkers, is an issue, if not a dynamic,  that is very present in all games. We see explicit morality systems in many of the games we play, and these are implemented with varying degrees of success. Morality systems in games, however, are not the same as morality in games. The approach to morality shown in the games we play is not something we always think about, or even something we are encouraged to think about, especially when games do not provide feedback on in-game behaviour or provide some exploration of moral issues in the game's story. Many of our favourite games do not  provide true moral flexibility in player actions when the player is given only one way of accomplishing their goals (though they may draw attention to this limitation to wonderful effect in games like Spec Ops: The Line or even the first BioShock). This piece is the first in a series on morality.


The first kind of morality I've identified is not necessarily a game system, but a narrative choice: imposed morality. A game with some amount of characterisation and no morality that the player can affect through an explicit and mechanised morality system will impose a morality on the game's protagonist, and nothing the player ever does can change the narrative's idea of who or what that character is. Morality in games is often seen in terms of good and evil, and I've noticed three main groups of imposed morality: imposed good, imposed evil and imposed neutral.

Imposed Good

This guy.

In these kinds of games, the protagonist is good. His/her quest is established to be just, and, if deemed necessary, you are shown that they are a Good Guy through backstory, dialogue and other players' reactons to the character. Your actions in the game, if not restricted to such an extent that they must be good, do not change the way that the character is portrayed in dialogue/cutscenes/interactions. This leads to some laughable moral oversights, especially considering the hitty/stabby/shooty nature of so many games. Link can smash all the pots in Hyrule, but despite this rampant property damage, everyone still loves what a great guy he is. Other characters will mention what an honourable person the protagonist is, even going as far as to bestow mystical artifacts that can only be used by those who are pure of heart on the protagonist because their murder of all the people/creatures in the previous area was just so  pure and righteous. The murder, theft, vandalism and extortion, to name a few, that you commit to finish a game are done in a space that is removed from the game's story, in such a way that no matter what the player's actions are, the character remains virtuous.

Imposed Neutral

This is the space where the more interesting, or at least less hypocritical, protagonists are found. It is also where many "gritty" characters fit in. The protagonist is established as self-serving or having a dark past that explains their propensity towards more morally problematic actions. In other cases, the character is so underdeveloped that they have to fall under this type (is Pac-Man, for example, good?). In other games, the villain is made so clearly evil that your actions seem tame by comparison (or they're just a Nazi or something). This can also be done through setting. On Pandora, for example, where the Borderlands games are set, many people are self-serving, hardened and violent, but not many people are outright evil (that distinction will be made more clear later). The harsh world can make a morally neutral character's more iffy actions more understandable. These protagonists often have the advantage of a story reason for their attitude towards violence, theft or other transgressions, if the game world even recognises these as taboo. There is the most variety of characterisation in "neutral" characters, and most of them lean towards either good or evil or vascillate between good and evil (or even something else that I'll discuss in later parts), so it is difficult to pin down a particular type that embodies neutrality, except that they are not portrayed by the narrative as good or evil. The possibility of character development in this type of character is also clear, with players possibly moving into good guy territory over time, but the player's actions have no effect on the course of this progression.

Imposed Evil

Sol's really not such a Badguy once you get to know him.

Some protagonists are just evil. This, however, is one of the less common approaches. Games like the Dungeon Keeper series, Overlord,  Evil Genius and maybe Kane and Lynch all have evil protagonists. The main thing that distinguishes these protagonists' morality from the other types of imposed moralities is that the actions that the player is given are almost entirely limited to exploititative, self-serving, cruel or violent ones (the last one is true of a great number of games, though). Performing evil deeds often invokes praise for the player, and there is often no "greater good" that the actions serve. They are cruel for the sake of being cruel or because they are expedient. Sometimes the player is constantly reminded, as with imposed good, how evil they are being. Making this kind of moral stance likeable can be a challenge, but humour can be used to soften the cruelty in these games, or they can simply be sold as "edgy", which can be a hit or miss kind of thing.


These very broad types of imposed morality rely on the traditional distinction of good vs. evil, which can be simplistic and problematic when scrutinised. This is probably why the games falling under Imposed Good or Imposed Evil are quick to remind you on which side of this distinction the protagonist lies. Games that fall under the neutral banner, for lack of a better term, tend to allow for much more nuanced ideas of right and wrong, and make it easier to portray richer characters who are flawed without being hypocritical. They also allow you as a player to pit yourself against an antagonist for more interesting reasons than them simply being on the other side of the Goodie/Baddie dichotomy. Of course, there are many, many ways in which Imposed Good and Evil protagonists can be fun and engaging, and the stories and experiences linked to these kinds of protagonists can be as memorable as any other.

In the next part, I'll be contrasting this Good/Evil dichotomy with another prevalent moral distinction in video games, and talking about games where the player's actions affect the way that the game and other characters react.

Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5

About Spoilers

 This post does not contain spoilers.

A few days before the release of BioShock Infinite, I read an article on a gaming site. I don't remember what the article was about, except that it was definitely not about BioShock Infinite. After reading the article, I scrolled down to scan the comments -- something not recommended on most sites, but hey, I'm a masochist.


And there it was. On the very first comment, blatant, unashamed and unsignposted: "Elizabeth is...[redacted] and Booker is...[redacted]". And it was like a punch to the stomach.  This was as spoilerific as a spoiler gets. Except I didn't know if this was an actual spoiler -- the game hadn't been released.  The other commenters echoed my thoughts exactly by replying to the poster with the sincerest, ugliest and most well-deserved abuse. I still don't know if it was a spoiler, a theory, or a fake posted by a heinous troll. It's agony.  I'll have to wait to complete the game to see which of these is true. I really, really hope that it's one of the latter.


I've been told a few times that spoilers don't spoil. That  the execution of a story is more important than the facts of that story. I love rereading/watching/playing my favourite stories to see how they've changed with foreknowledge (or how I've changed), but this claim is just not true. Not for me, anyway. Last year, I watched some really classic movies that I'd somehow managed to avoid seeing. Some of them were movies whose plot twists had so infiltrated public consciousness that mentioning them, even in polite company, would no longer be considered to be spoiling. Those movies were the Star Wars trilogy (the first one -- don't laugh) and Citizen Kane. As much as I tried to appreciate and perceive these stories as a first-time viewer would, I just couldn't. I wasn't really a first-time viewer. Sure, I could see the details and the buildup to the reveal, but that just isn't the same as being shocked and surprised in that fantastic way that fiction can shock and surprise you, or slowly reveal things to you in that way that makes you feel so very smart and perceptive (even if every other viewer/reader/player does too).


Part of the problem, if it even is one, is that this kind of information is just everywhere. Sites have weekly spoiler columns and previews, where people intentionally go to get more information on their particular pop-culture interests. I've been guilty of this data gathering myself, but I've recently begun to resist looking. Firstly, information gained from an online column is either sterile or biased, and is not the same as information gained within the context of a story and its own particular atmosphere. Secondly, this out-of-context information is bound to lead to misconceptions -- if you're gathering this information to decide on whether to buy a product, you may be deceived into thinking you're buying or rejecting one thing when it is actually another. A recent example of this is the furore over the rebooted Tomb Raider. People vowed not to buy the game based on a trailer that purported to represent the tone of the game. Anyone who has played the game since could argue that accusations of 'torture porn' need to be reconsidered, if not dismissed,  when the full context is provided.


Another part of the problem is that, as the saying goes, knowledge is power. Knowing what happens in a particular story, whether it be the Harry Potter novel bought at midnight and read immediately, the pre-ordered or leaked, if buggy, game, or the episode of Game of Thrones downloaded just minutes after US broadcast makes some people feel better than you. Malicious spoiling is just the demonstration of that power.


So, um, yeah. Don't spoil things. It's mean. But it's probably my fault that I waited this long to watch Star Wars.

         “Times are bad. Children no longer obey their parents, and everyone is writing a b[log].” 
            ― Cicero (with some embellishments)

I don't write. Well, apart from things I've been forced to write: emails, tweets, academic essays and a small 150-page master's dissertation. I even rewrite other people's work. But I don't write for fun. Unfortunately, academia has horribly shaped the way that I write into a boring, standardised and repetitive mechanism, and I'm hoping to break from that a bit. I'm hoping that this will change things.

What I do do is have a lot of opinions. And the internet is all about opinions, and making other people read your opinions. In honour of this brave (and probably irritating) tradition, I will have this... thing involve my opinions and analyses of things I've seen. Maybe you will like them, Maybe you will hate them. Maybe I'll even get death threats, if I'm lucky. But I'll probably get my own thoughts about things properly arranged, instead of them mashing together in my brain forever and driving me mad.

I have a very diverse range of interests, but I plan to talk about what interests me (mostly thrills, spills and escapism!), no matter how schizophrenic a read it may make. My interests, and even loves, may or may not overlap with what interests you, but I hope they do. Failing that, that I can bring you over to my side of things with some sumptuous prose. And opinions. But mostly opinions.