Defending Imagination: The Silent Protagonist

Gamers are a strange bunch. We indulge in a very creative medium. Games cover a wide array of art styles, stories, play styles, and experiences. And for all our love of this wondrous medium, we’re an unimaginative bunch. Gamers rarely want to leave aspects of their games to their own devices. The developer must have every element of a game front and center or we will not consider how it could be.

To explain my point, I’m going to explore three different scenarios. This first article is a defense of the silent protagonist, particularly Gordon Freeman of the Half Life series. Many gamers criticize Gordon for his lack of a voice. Because Valve did not hire a voice actor for Gordon or write lines of dialogue for him, many write him off as a soulless avatar with no personality. And yet, when I play through the Half Life games, my opinion of Gordon couldn’t be further from that assessment.

In my opinion, Valve wants us, the gamer, to fill in for the role of Gordon. Gordon doesn’t speak so that we may give him a voice. No lines of dialog are written lest they conflict with how we want to character to react to the world around him. Now I’m not saying you have to speak out loud in response to everything Alex says to you (although I have found myself inadvertently doing that on occasion), but even some subconscious thought can do the trick.

I’ll draw an example from a scene in Half Life 2: Episode 2. This could be considered spoiler territory, so consider yourself warned. There is a point in the game where Alex becomes mortally wounded. Gordon is left stuck under rubble as Alex desperately reaches out to him before she is struck once more by a Hunter. Now there are several ways for this scenario to play out.

For me, I was desperately hammering on my W button, even though I knew it was futile. I was desperate to save Alex, but there was nothing I could do. I actually felt helpless. Alternatively, Valve could have had Gordon actually shouting, “No! Alex! No!” or what have you. It may have worked (depending on the quality of the voice acting), but most I fear people would have found it cheesy.

But what mostly happened, is that people just sat there and watched their cut scene. In some level, they would have preferred the second option above. But by using some imagination, the scene was far more powerful than any passive cinema could have been. This is why I watch movies and play games. There’s a difference, and it is left to us to make that difference.

And that’s just one example from that game. When Dog found me in the rubble of Episode 1’s opening, I was glad to see him. When Alex hugged me, I actually felt loved to some degree. When Dog  jumped that Strider, I was relieved, excited, and actually shouted out, “Fuck yeah! It’s Dog!”

Many other games work on this level. The Myst games come to mind. By Must IV, Atrus feels like an old friend. The news of his passing in the opening of Myst V left me genuinely sad. Fallout 3 allowed me to fill in the shoes of the wanderer, making that character my own. By the end of the game (warning, another spoiler), I felt this strange connection to my in game parents when I entered the final code into Project Purity. It was this almost strange and calming moment as I faced certain death. I pity the person who just saw that as some puzzle, punched in the numbers, then complained about the final cutscene. That was one of the best endings I’ve ever experienced in a game.

Tune in for part 2, where I’ll explore why moral choices in games don’t necessarily need to have a direct impact the game’s story or gameplay.wordpres