[In this special guest GameSetWatch editorial, student and game commentator Andrew Vanden Bossche takes a look at the role of the silent protagonist in video games.]
So there you are, trying to save the world, but no oneís listening to you. Whenever someone asks you a question, one of your friends answers for you. When the game finally lets you make a choice, itís usually between a) help an old lady across the street or b) poke her in the eye and steal all her money.
And even when you pick b) out of perverse annoyance, some smartass party member will intervene, and youíll have to go through the dialogue tree again and again until you pick an option more respectful to the elderly.
So where does the silent protagonist come from? After all, the technology to give protagonists voice is still fairly young. While now itís standard for even games with very simple plots to at least include some explanatory text, lots of games have never needed to.
The Origins Of The Silent Protagonist
The first Mario games didnít contain too much more dialogue than ďsorry, but our princess is in another castleĒ and Mario definitely didnít need to say a word for you to understand what was going on. Early games like Zelda
featured silent protagonists because there wasnít any reason to have them speak. Like picture books, you could understand everything you needed to know about the story from what you could see.
Mario is an excellent example of this, because so much of the gameís personality comes from the charm of the scenery, from the brightly colored environments to the smiley faces drawn on clouds and hills. To this day, Mario gets away with extremely minimal dialogue, and many people find it weird when he talks; weíre used to him communicating through gestures and actions. In the Mario RPGs, he communicates through exaggerated gestures and silly nonsense words which are as expressive, if not more so, than actual speech.
So when is it that the silent protagonist started to stick out? Well, for one thing, the silent protagonist we see most often is, quite unlike Mario, supposed to be a representation of the player. Itís a really different narrative technique, whoís origins are less in the vein of technological limitations but arise from the earliest eras of RPGs, in which the protagonist is supposed to be an insertion of the player.
This is back when video game RPGs still had a lot more in common with pen and paper RPGs and the idea of ďrole-playingĒ (that is, actually trying to act out your characterís behavior) was still very strong.
A lot of these games got away with this because the either had a single silent protagonist or a group of equally silent members (check out Etrian Odyssey
for a contemporary example) with very broad and sometimes quite simple quests, like exploring a dungeon for treasure. Hence, thereís nothing really defining the characters except for their stats and maybe a visual icon, which leaves the player free to imagine whatever they want about their characters (or not).
In the developer diaries for Etrian
, Kazuya Niinou mentions his wish for players to imagine their own stories about the characters they make. Itís a system thatís not even built in the game really- thereís no way that it matters what you imagine about the characters you make, but youíre still given the choice to pick their appearance. Thereís not much in game reason for it, but itís a wonderful touch to make the game more personal.
The Silent Protagonist Conundrum
Okay, so if the silent protagonist is so great, whatís the problem? Well, that is the problem right there-itís the silent protagonist thatís great, and very often we see games in which the silent protagonist just isnít. The problem comes when there are contradictions.
Remember when Half-Life 2
came out, and the PR tagline was ďYou are Gordon FreemanĒ? What they wanted to imply with that statement was that Gordon would take no action that the player didnít direct. Total freedom, right?
Except, thereís one really big problem with that line. Youíre not Gordon Freeman. Okay, right, obviously. But think of everything that implies, because youíre not necessarily white, male or MIT-educated (not to mention no hazard suit or guns). The point Iím trying to make is that the player is still just playing the part of someone else, even if the player has complete control over his actions.
The problem here is the Gordon Freeman is already exclusively defined. Sure, he doesnít talk, but he has all sorts of backstory that severely limits what the player can imagine about him. Plus, itís not as if Gordon is really in control of his actions. Sure, Gordon doesnít do anything you donít want him to, but he also canít do things you want him to, either. You canít shoot friendly targets, and most importantly of all, you canít talk!
Itís not just that the player canít make Gordon say things, itís that his silence is a kind of weakness. Combat is thrilling because in a tangible way, the player is able make things happen, whether itís defeating evil or protecting the innocent, or any number of reasons. But voice itself is very important power, even in action games. Without voice, it can often feel like the player is just being jerked around through the whole game like a puppet without any real power over whatís going on.
Only very rarely is this actually used intentionally (Portal
comes to mind) to make the player feel like theyíre not in control of their destiny. Itís very effective at doing that, but too often itís used as if it was a way of increasing the playerís agency- and it pretty much does the opposite.
The Freeman Question
So what if Gordon Freeman canít talk? Heís still Gordon Freeman, and the playerís never going to be him. The thing is, I donít believe that players care if itís them making the decisions or the protagonist. When we watch movies, we cheer (or boo) the protagonists along the way, and identify with them (if theyíre well written) and understand why they do the things they do - even if theyíre things we wouldnít do ourselves.
But we donít know why Gordon Freeman does the things he does, making the whole Half-Life
experience kind of weird. In this respect, I think the first game was much better, since all youíre trying to do is survive which is an extremely basic and understandable human impulse. But in the second game, when youíre supposed to be some sort of savior, it makes you wonder why youíre doing through all this trouble.
In fact, I donít want to pick on poor Gordon too much. Half-Life
does a very good job of working the silent protagonist. One of the feelings that defines that game for me is the irony of his last name. Especially in the first game, heís a victim of circumstance, and the player spends the whole game trying to get him out of the biggest mess in the world. His silence is great, not just because heís alone, but because I found myself agreeing with it.
The silence is powerful, letting the player know theyíre just an observer, fighting against things they canít understand or communicate with. The military wants to kill you, Xen wants to kill you, and the scientists just like to hear themselves talk. The only person who actually cares what you have to say is the G-Man at the end, and itís the one time that you can really respond to another character, even if it isnít though words.
Video games are often compared to movies. I think thatís accurate, although not in the way that itís usually presented. In fact, Iíd say games are closer to plays. The director is the game designers, the game itself is the script, the player is an actor.
Actors have a lot of wiggle room they interpret the lines and perform them, in ways that the director or scriptwriter may never have thought about or intended. But on the other hand, the actor canít go outside of the script. Just like a game may have all sorts of alternate paths and endings, but the player canít go outside them.
I think the point really is that players have no problem being actors, even in roles that may be very different from themselves. I think many players want to expand their range a bit more than designers give them credit.
[Andrew Vanden Bossche is an English and Creative Writing major at Oberlin College. He began gaming on his fatherís Apple SE with classic games like Dark Castle and Crab Attack Ė hitting weak points for massive damage long before it was popular. His education includes console RPGs and Macintosh shareware games. Heís currently playing anything he can get to run on his Mac, since beggars canít be choosers.]