I devoured BioShock Infinite in what, for all intents and purposes, could be called one sitting. I did get up about halfway through and drive down the street for some fast food takeout that I ate while watching Archer — you know, just for a massive palate-cleansing dose of cognitive dissonance — but otherwise it was an early-morning-through-late-evening furious run of 13 hours.
There are no shortages of BioShock Infinite reviews, so I will spare the world yet another one that tells you what you already know. Infinite is phenomenal, and you should buy it and play it. What I do want to talk about, and only briefly at this point, is what the game made me think about on a higher, conceptual level as I played and finished it.
This is a land of what I call the “gray spoiler,” the sort of spoiler that isn’t an explicit recounting of key story beats, but an area where if you think hard enough on the subject you might glean the shape of the story and as a result the directions it might go during its many twists and turns. For example, knowing that Darth Vader is Luke’s father is an explicit spoiler, however knowing that the story of Star Wars is, at least in part, about a son’s fight to redeem his father, might lead you to guess in the right directions. This discussion will lean to the latter part of that example, and thus should be avoided entirely by those who have not played or do not wish to risk spoiling the terrific overall story of Bioshock Infinite.
Do we understand one another? Good.
To me, what is genuinely impressive about the nature of Infinite’s story is how wide the net is cast, and how full the bounty it ultimately catches. There is no way to encapsulate a definitive statement on what Infinite is about, certainly not in the same way that you could haphazardly reduce down many of the themes of the first BioShock to being about Objectivism, though I actually think that is overly reduced, because Objectivism itself holds so many ideas within its confines.
In fact, I’d say where BioShock is a look at the tenets of a philosophy described and encapsulated within a story (specifically Objectivism within the stories of Ayn Rand), Infinite is Irrational’s stab at creating its own philosophy within its own story. In other words, instead of trying to deconstruct what Rand did, it is trying to replicate it with its own philosophical ideas, though it's probably not as concerned as Rand was with whether you agree with those philosophies.
I say this because Infinite contains a multitude of ideas or inferences about everything from race, to religion, to the metaphysical, to free will in the multiverse.
Where a lot of people, I think, have gotten hung up on the setting and the idea that Infinite is a criticism on American exceptionalism, I actually just see that as a context to create an isolated playground to explore broader ideas. After all, the America of Atlas Shrugged is there to serve the ideas contained within the Objectivist agenda.
I feel it necessary at this point to offer a brief word on authorial intent; specifically that I don’t care much about it. It could entirely be that anyone associated with actually making the game may look at the above and the content to come, and to think, “We didn’t mean to do any of that stuff.” That’s the beauty of art to me, that authorial intent is completely isolated and separate from the way media is received. So, to me, the question of what Ken Levine and his team meant to say with their story is far less interesting than what I and other players in the narrative interpret it to say. After all, a word is irrelevant in a speaker’s mouth. It only gains value in what the listener hears.
Anyway, I’m not ready to start the Cult of Irrational and proclaim Infinitism some new philosophy to which I should subscribe. But I do think there’s a very interesting way that Infinite ends up talking about not only our place in the world, but the agency we have over that place. I’m going to tread close to the spoiler line here, so beware for a few sentences — but in the very first scene, Infinite lays out an interesting question that you only realize much later. Booker DeWitt does not row. Why? Because he doesn’t.
The language of that segment is both very simple and very complex. There is an underlying question that I think isn’t clearly answered, which is whether he does not row because he chooses, or because the universe chooses him not to.
I think this is the part where religion comes in, and there’s a very good reason that the City of Columbia is so devout. If you look at religion in Infinite, it is not specifically any one religion — though it squares with the general trends of 1912 America, which is to say Protestant leaning. Infinite almost has its own independent religion, where the Prophet is a sort of deific figurehead protecting the Lamb and his followers from evil as manifest in the form of the False Prophet, or specifically, the player.
But ultimately Infinite resolves itself in a way that removes the mystery and divinity of that religion, which is interesting, because I think that by taking that approach, Infinite’s critique of religion as an ideology is defanged. After all, you can only understand that which seems divine in the game with extraordinary knowledge that, while not explicitly unknowable, for all purposes is unattainable by almost anyone. It does not paint the followers of the Columbia mystical vision as stupid, though it does cast them as unwittingly manipulated, which still could be seen to indict the institution of religion in a way, because in the end the foundation that the religion is built on has nothing to do with any kind of god. It has to do with very, very complex science, and people who manipulated that science to make it seem mystical.
That is not to say that the game is anti-religious. In fact, I don’t know in the end whether Infinite really says anything about capital-G-God, or whether he exists or doesn’t. It speaks only to the finite construction of religion within the terms of the one created in the game, and which is a knowable, finite thing. Infinite doesn’t really say, if you believe in God then you are misled, but that these people who believe in this god have been fooled.
In the end, Irrational's creation walks the fascinatingly fine line of critiquing corrupted institutions while not blaming the often innocent or at least misled followers of those institutions. After all, the thing about The Prophet in Infinite is that, by any reasonable measure to a citizen of Columbia, he is one in what seems every legitimate way.
So in the final quick and dirty analysis, I think if I were to distill Infinite down to a few words, the most obvious would be redemption. The game oozes redemption at every corner, though I think the corollary to that is equally true, which is that Infinite is also very much about corruption. It is manifest in the very deterioration of the city around you, as well as some of the institutions that slide from one role to another. Even within the way Elizabeth discovers her own abilities, it is evident that imparting a singular will upon the world, even with seemingly pure intent, ultimately corrupts and undermines the very things she wants to preserve.
It doesn't simply leave it at that, a surface statement that sounds suspiciously like "power corrupts, and absolute power ..." yada, yada, yada. Without diving too much into the ending, I think what it really is saying is that ignorant or cynical power naturally corrupts. There is this undercurrent, in the story of redemption, in the story of corruption, in the story of the religion, that knowledge unbinds us. It does so often with unflinching and uncompromising results, but power throughout this game lies in those who "know," and the way to undermine or co-opt their power is to also know, or even know more.
Or, perhaps, that is simply me projecting my desire onto the story I've been told. There's a lot of meat to gnaw at, but in truth not a very clear message to take away without unpacking Infinite's substantial baggage. That's good, though, I think. If nothing else it warms my heart to have a game worth thinking about, even if Ken and his team ultimately do hold the trump cards, because they are the ones who know.
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Not at all true. Authors are very frequently surprised by how stories come out. In the hands of the particularly talented writers, characters have a great deal of agency, and often refuse to do what the author had originally intended.
Sometimes, by the end, they're nearly as surprised as you are.
And yes, there are plenty of stories where everything was pre-planned and nobody really had any agency at all, but those books tend not to sparkle.
Metafilter had a brilliant comment, a really different take on what the design team was reaching for. I spoilered everything after the first paragraph:
Oh, and then in the next comment, FAMOUS MONSTER had this to say:
I thought both those comments were exceptionally insightful.
I think you missed my point. Stories end the way they end. It's not like there's really any chance that Frodo WON'T get to Mt. Doom, or that Lennie is going to get to see the rabbits.
To have an issue that there was never really any choice in Bioshock Infinite is amusing.. there's no choice in any novel that you are reading. The characters will do what they do, and the ending will be what it is.
Not true!
No one reads these.
Touche! And yet, all we've done there is increase the number of possible endings.. they're all still fixed, though.
Also, let's be honest with ourselves. We always said the ending we got didn't count and reverted back until we made the choices that would lead to the ideal one on the last page.
I would think the first rule of PR is to ignore forum people, because they vacillate between crazy and liar. - Elysium
As a writer, yes, I have ultimate control over what my characters do or don't do. But that's not what agency means in the context of characterization. A character's "agency" means that, within the framework of the story, he or she has the power to make his or her own decisions, based on his or her own desires, ideals, goals, and unique understanding of the world.
As audiences, we engage with stories out of empathy: Only when we care and sympathize with the characters do we stick around to find out what happens next. Character agency is what creates an empathetic bond between story and audience; it's what gets us to stop thinking of the characters as constructs and instead think of them as "people", people we love, people we hate, people we want to know more about.
The one truth of all fiction is this: We have the power to move our own lives forward. And whether or not it's true in life doesn't matter -- we need it to be true in our stories.
"Today's Tom Sawyer, he gets high on you, Kat. You." - Haakon7
I think Camus, Chuck Palahniuk, Nietzsche, Kafka, Vonnegut, Heller, Albee, and Sartre would disagree with that statement. You may not particularly *like* absurdist/existentialist/nihilist fiction, but to pretend it doesn't exist seems odd.
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"If I knew you could claim podcast hosts that way, I would had peed on you back at Tamo." - AgentWred
It's kind of telling that everyone replying to my point is citing authorship, when what I said was about reading. The inevitability and lack of choice in Bioshock is inherent in every novel you read. While as a reader I can pretend that the characters in the book have agency, even a brief moment of reflection would show that of course they do not.
A novel you are reading is the purest form of determinism there is.
Note: Of course, this is partly because I don't understand how anyone can believe in the concept of free will (in the "pure actor" sense) in any situation.
Dont you all think the part of religion was a bit forced into the story?
Also why is there no sane person in the game? Not even Booker or the walking Voxophone called Elizabeth seemed sane.
Dont miss my ravings in the thread of the "GWJ Conference Call Episode 338" post
Fine. The one truth of 95% of all fiction. Better?
I mean, let's not pretend that nihilism is the rule in fiction, rather than the exception.
"Today's Tom Sawyer, he gets high on you, Kat. You." - Haakon7
Loving the discussion in this thread. While I agree with a lot of Lara's core points, ultimately I still enjoyed it - but I've always had a bit of a soft spot for nihilism (in the weaker sense, rather than full-blown Nietzsche), particularly in cases like this where it's an aspect of the story but not necessarily all of it.
What can change the nature of a man?
First thing my grandfather taught me was "Don't let any hellportals near your junk."
Steam
Interesting that you bring up Torment - I've found myself comparing the themes in both as well, but came to the opposite conclusion.
Bastion spoilers below:
I have plenty of issue with Bioshock beyond the philosophical themes, but spoiler tags are a pain and I went over them more in another thread and won't bring it here. It's great to read such diverse analysis, even if I disagree with many of you
Fantastic. Now we can agree to disagree. I believe Albee's "zoo story" is the best play ever written. I imagine you'd want to burn an effigy of him yearly.
Traditional fiction is easy. Formulaic. I don't need the heroes journey retold for the thousandth time. Brazil. Zoo Story. Gregor Samsa. These are hard stories well told. I'm not nominating anyone for a Pulitzer here, but I applaud a hard story well told, rather than another simple triumph over evil saga in a new setting.
EDIT: Someone pointed out to me like, nobody on the planet has seen Albee's 1958 play, since it's never been made into a movie, so here's a surprisingly good 1 hour production done by some students. You have to crank the volume, but its very good honestly. And if you have an hour to understand existentialism/nihilism crossover literature, its worth it:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ctPun...
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"If I knew you could claim podcast hosts that way, I would had peed on you back at Tamo." - AgentWred
Whew! Getting a bit hostile in here! In any case, it's clear that there's always themes and tropes in fiction that some people don't like. That's ok. The problem is when we treat those things as if they're objectively bad, instead of just not our cup of tea.
Hmmm, I like your reading of the contrast. I think I'll need to percolate some of that through my brain a bit more. Comparison with Bastion is an interesting one too.
First thing my grandfather taught me was "Don't let any hellportals near your junk."
Steam
The first 90% of the story was not a J Campbell style Hero's Journey - it wasn't even it about Booker. We followed the development of Elizabeth and Vox, and got all the cues for a different story. It followed a Heroine Journey cycle much more then a Hero's Journey, and I challenge anyone to point me towards another video game that does that. Seriously, I am looking for game suggestions
For most of the game, Bioshock: Infinite WAS going to be a hard story well told -- until
"Today's Tom Sawyer, he gets high on you, Kat. You." - Haakon7
How can one not take it personally when someone says "the reason you like it is because of this thing you are." It's literally no different saying "you only like that book because your a woman" or " you only like that because your black" instead of entertaining that any part of your own thinking could be questioned.
I think we just agree not to talk about it before I get angry.
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"If I knew you could claim podcast hosts that way, I would had peed on you back at Tamo." - AgentWred
C-C-C-C-COMBO BREAKER! Wow. Quadruple posts.
I didn't mean to hurt your feelings, that wasn't my intent. And nor was what I wrote meant as a personal attack, or an attempt to dismiss the opinions of others.
What I meant was that one's position in life affects how one views a story, and the value one finds in it. This is true of me, this is true of you, this is true of white people and black people and blue Martians from the 24th century. It's true of everybody. It's on us to question, identify and acknowledge how our particular life situation and experiences influence our perspective. Because as much as fiction allows us to put ourselves in other people's shoes, it is inherently a limited exercise, because we're so used to wearing our own shoes, and some shoes will fit us better than others.
I am a white, 30-something, cishet, agnostic woman living in a fairly comfortable economic status. I enjoy considerable privileges in some ways, and I struggle against oppressive forces in other ways. All of these things influence the way I come to stories: the value I find in them; their power; their relevance and meaning. I'm not saying your perspective is wrong because it differs from mine. I'm saying, simply, that it differs.
"Today's Tom Sawyer, he gets high on you, Kat. You." - Haakon7
You're kind of arguing against yourself here Katarin.
#4
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"If I knew you could claim podcast hosts that way, I would had peed on you back at Tamo." - AgentWred
#3
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"If I knew you could claim podcast hosts that way, I would had peed on you back at Tamo." - AgentWred
#2!
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"If I knew you could claim podcast hosts that way, I would had peed on you back at Tamo." - AgentWred
Katerin, you didn't lose any points for that post as far as I'm concerned. Just giving us more food for thought and discussion to analyze.
I don't think it was forced. As in the original Bioshock, you're examining a method of (for lack of a better word) control/comfort. Ryan peddles the idea that you are entitled to everything you create, deference to the less fortunate be damned. Suddenly, being a well-off person owes to your bootstrappingness and overall superiority, not to the social capital you were fortunate enough to draw upon. In turn, Comstock sells his city above the hill as a new Eden, with those that live in Columbia as chosen/saved. You see, you're not really living with people that are national separatists, you've been fated to rise above the Sodom!
In both case, you're making alterations to the social contract to justify the specific brand of insanity being proposed. It just so happens that turn-of-the-20th century folks would be more receptive to Spiritual arguments than economic ones. The third Great Awakening happens in US History about 10-20 years before the game's setting, after all.
There's also undertones to the notion that Comstock reduces his guilt by becoming an evangelical Believer, casting himself as a savior that had sinned, and can now go spread the good word. The only way he can get over his past transgressions is to be reborn and commit himself to a Good Work of some kind. (Arguably, that good work is razing the world below that drove him to sin).
As for Katerin's arguments:
Revel in the sheer improbability that in a universe of such mind-shattering emptiness, you have someone to love - Coldstream
They stopped being meaningful to me as devices a long time ago, and now they've stopped being meaningful as things-ClockworkHouse
"Booker DeWitt does not row. Why? Because he doesn’t.
The language of that segment is both very simple and very complex. There is an underlying question that I think isn’t clearly answered, which is whether he does not row because he chooses, or because the universe chooses him not to."
"He DOESN'T row." is, as you noted, an very important line, but I think I disagree as to why. It's not very interesting to me if he doesn't row because he chooses not to, or because he's fated not to; just that he doesn't and, more importantly, the Lutece twins are switched on to that fact. This early line hints at the subplot which I haven't seen people discussing very often.
This is the smartest thing I've read yet, and I TOTALLY hadn't thought of this:
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"If I knew you could claim podcast hosts that way, I would had peed on you back at Tamo." - AgentWred
An interesting criticism of Bioshock Infinite that I think really exposes its weak points:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GJ2cS...
In particular,
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