What We Find and Lose in the Video Game World

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Fear is a powerful motivator. We fear rejection, having no power over our own destiny, being a victim, lack of acceptance or approval, and even death. All are real apprehensions every human faces. Since the 1980s, video games have been offering us a way to escape these fears as we can abdicate reality for a time and save the city, world, or universe. In doing so, developers are giving gamers a digital version of power and control with which to conquer their fears.In these digital worlds, what is there to fear when your arm is a cannon meting out retribution on a harsh planet that is actively seeking your destruction? Why feel guilt or shame over actions when you can simply manipulate or even erase the memories of these actions with a swipe of your hand? Does death still sting when you can rewind time to undo the actions that cost the life of a friend?

In reality, the video gamer does not have a cannon attached to the arm for shooting missiles and plasma beams, nor the tools to rewrite the memories of others. However, the fantasy worlds offered by video games entice us with the possibility of finding control and power over the fear of loss we feel in our primary reality. These secondary, or imaginary worlds, offer a ready escape. These worlds may be epic experiences commanding upwards of 120 hours, or they may be simple puzzle games on a smartphone. In disappearing into these worlds, many become lost in pursuit of something they desperately need and will ultimately never find amongst the zeros and ones.

Conquering Human Limitations

One of Nintendo’s most recognizable properties, Metroid, is a prime example. The heroine, Samus Aran, starts every game with a severely limited arsenal used by the player to systematically explore the surroundings. The formula has the player searching for an upgrade or a new piece of equipment to unlock a new area to explore. By the end of the Metroid game, the player has upgraded Samus to be a formidable warrior.

In the Metroid Prime trilogy, gear and weapons are stripped from Samus at the outset, heightening the feelings of inadequacy and isolation in a world where no other living humans are found. The title is also played from the first-person perspective as opposed to a side scrolling 2D perspective. By viewing the world through the helmet of Samus Aran, the player is given a much more intimate association with the leading lady.

The trepidation of setting out onto a hostile world that is populated by a seemingly unsurmountable evil can be an echo of our real world. On some level, the gamer can relate to feelings of isolation and powerlessness. By becoming Samus, they are, for a time, able to escape reality and forge their own victory and conquer their fears.

A lesser known game from French developer Dontnod is called Remember Me. If you can imagine a world where memories are yours to play with, then you can imagine the futuristic Neo-Paris in which Remember Me is set. In this fantasy universe, nearly every human has an implant that allows them to not only save their memories digitally, but also to erase them completely. Nilin, the leading lady of this game, has the added talent of manipulating memories, thereby changing a person’s personality drastically.

Imagine a scene where a child distracts a mother while driving during a stormy night. The mother loses control of the car and, as a result, loses a limb. The result is a life-long animosity toward the child. In the game, Nilin can enter the mind of the mother and change the mother’s memory so that the child had nothing to do with the incident. As a result, all feelings of hatred and bitterness are magically removed. In essence, the gamer is given the ability to play God . . . and what greater power would anyone want?

The society presented in the game is compelling. It is a world where a grandmother’s memories of her late husband can literally be relived in the minds of her children. It can also be horrific, as people are able to simply remove memories they find inconvenient, thereby removing responsibility from themselves. Since we do not have the ability to selectively remove memories from our minds (yet), Remember Me gives the player the unique ability to imagine a world where they have no fear of scary things, because they can simply forget them.

Finding Agency, Losing Control

What these two games, and in a sense all games, have in common is a sense of agency that is unique in the narrative and entertainment mediums. The players holding the controller or mouse and keyboard is in control of their own experience, their own actions, and the consequences that come with them. Many video game players may not be aware of this connection, but on some level, they are finding satisfaction in something that is unique to the video game.

This idea that we have lost control in our own life is rectified by having the ultimate control over our online worlds of escape. In these worlds, gamers can find a sense of comfort, approval, and control that the real world is not providing.

Mike Fahey, a feature writer for the popular gaming site Kotaku, wrote an intimate article titled “I Kept Playing—The Costs of My Gaming Addiction,” which chronicled his descent into the MMO Everquest. In the later part of 2000, Fahey delved into EverQuest in order to escape, to become lost in the half-elven Bard of his own creation. The game became his life, to the extent that he lost his job, his car, his girlfriend, and finally his apartment. He went from a “strong independent person to a gaunt, unshaven, unshowered recluse, completely withdrawn from the outside world.”

Was Everquest itself at fault? No. Even Fahey admitted as much in his feature:

“I hid. I ran from my problems, hiding away in a virtual fantasy world instead of confronting the issues that might have been easily resolved if I had addressed them directly. As far as I am concerned, the only thing Sony Online Entertainment is guilty of is creating a damn good hiding place.”

Eventually Fahey found his way clear of the addiction through the support of his family whom he moved back in with when he was at rock bottom.

Our Primary Reality

In the video game, players are constantly on the hunt for what Tolkien called a “eucatastrophe” which he defined as “the joy of a happy ending.” These moments are found in print when Frodo wrestles the ring away from Gollum and in a film when the dog Shadow comes limping over the hill to his family. Video games are unique in their execution of the “eucatastrophe” because the player is actively engaged in it or they have even created it themselves, rather than simply reading it in a book or watching it on a screen.

These earned happy conclusions are found within video games of all kinds, not just Metroid. They are found in Starcraft when a player defeats the invading army of the Zerg swarm or when they have the perfect head shot at 300m across a no-cross map on Sniper Elite III. These pockets of exhilaration in a fantastical setting gives a sense of elation and control that we will never (or at least very rarely) experience in our primary reality.

Make no mistake, this is not a bad thing. There is value in myth, and the echoes of our world that are present in the games we play. Tolkien stated in his essay On Fairy-Stories, “Fantasy remains a human right: we make in our measure and in our derivative mode, because we are made: and not only made, but made in the image and likeness of a Maker.” The danger comes when we let the video game become our primary reality. Much like Mike Fahey, we can use any form of escapism to construct our own mythos in which we are like God.

Paul Tillich, a German American theologian, stated in his work Dynamics of Faith that religion is that which is of “ultimate concern” to a person. By this definition, we can easily see how a secondary world becomes what pop culture defines as a religion. Millions of video game fans—along with comic book and anime fans—flock to conventions around the world each year with thousands of dollars spent on cosplay costumes. Gamers can sacrifice time, money, and relationships to the pursuit of the level cap.

It is this drive to control fear, or to avoid it, that can lead to this abuse of what is an amazing source of entertainment. Our own Richard Clark (and my boss at GameChurch) wrote a piece for Christ and Pop Culture titled “In Praise of Video Games” extolling the positive benefits that gaming can have. And good things are present.

GameCell

Once a week a group of gamers converge on M Joshua’s house as part of a group called GameCell. The reason they are there is to use video games as a discipleship tool, but in a truly unique way. Leaders arrive early to get their assignments. One person is assigned to make sure everyone is comfortable and to break the ice with some questions. The topic tonight is trust.

Around a table of snacks and drinks a discussion started with, “What game are you playing?” The discussion starts in earnest with the question, “Do you trust anybody? If so, why?” The conversation continues for some time and it is brought to head with the question, “How could God gain your trust?” In this situation is a young man named Wes who is agnostic and is instantly uncomfortable with the question. In this moment, the grace and love of God was mirrored by the host who told Wes that regardless of his belief, his input is valuable.

After a few more questions combined with reading a section of the scriptures, the crew sat down and played a selection of games that featured specific themes of trust. Goals were set, competitions were started, and loud exclamations were heard up and down the street as a group of people learned to play together and trust in each other by combining the echos of a fantasy setting with the reality of God’s perfect love.

Utmost Concern

The gamers who do not have access to something like GameCell or a strong self imposed control on their gaming habits can find themselves devoting more time and money on the hobby than is healthy. That is when it becomes what Tillich described as something of utmost concern.

That which is of utmost concern for all Christians is God himself. While this is easy to say, it is indeed difficult to implement. The small business owner who sees the paychecks grow smaller and smaller is fearful for the family’s provision. The student sees the looming prospect of college in the distance and is fearful of having to choose a path of study. The woman in the workplace is fearful of approval from her supervisors and co-workers, so she retreats into Bejeweled or Candy Crush. There are all real examples that have one thing in common: fear. Fear is the dominant force determining their actions.

Surrendering this fear to God goes against everything we feel internally. Adam and Eve rebelled against this fearless trust, and today, we still wrestle with the idea that we are in control. Situations proving that we are not in control can drive us into the digital worlds of video games, or they can drive us into the perfect communion with God. C. S. Lewis wrote, “All get what they want, they do not always like it.” While games may give us what we want, we will not always find eternal satisfaction within them.

Image: GameSpot.com