Joyous Malaise

Like many avid gamers, I frequently feel compelled to detail all the myriad ways that our favorite industry has gotten everything wrong. This, I assure you, is not pleasant business. There's hardly a thing in the world more frustrating than being able to describe a seemingly simple fix for a vexing problem, while nevertheless being utterly unable to implement that fix for reasons that are both stupid and unnecessary. Why, then, do I so routinely engage in an activity that is invariably futile and unpleasant? Quite simply: Because unpleasant things must sometimes be endured for the sake of some further purpose.

So, although you may find the tale I am about to tell unpleasant, try to stick it out. I swear that when it ends, I'll have a point to make--a point about games, and how they've once again gotten everything wrong.

For over 4,000 years, people have been telling the story of the god-man Gilgamesh. He ruled the city of Uruk, and the people of Uruk slaved away in the clay pits, lamenting daily their cruel king's terrible power. The gods heard their cries, and in the wilderness not far from Uruk they created Enkidu, a wild man with power equal to that of Gilgamesh. A hunter led a love-priestess to Enkidu, and she proceeded to "civilize" him for six days and seven nights. (The poem actually employs far more blunt language here, which would make your work filters rather unhappy.)

After this, Enkidu found that he could no longer live among the wild animals. He instead turned his sights toward Uruk, and the great injustices being committed within its walls. Enkidu soon confronted Gilgamesh, and the two men fought each other in a battle that shook the walls of the city. In fighting, they became fast friends; their bond was strengthened by their rivalry. Gilgamesh soon expressed to Enkidu his desire to destroy the tree-god Humbaba, guardian of a distant forest, and Enkidu agreed to help. Gilgamesh hoped that by killing Humbaba, his name would live on forever.

They set out on their journey, but as they approached the forest gates, Enkidu gave voice to his own misgivings. Nevertheless, the two men advanced upon Humbaba and slew him after a ferocious struggle. They returned to Uruk, where the angry gods sent the Bull of Heaven to punish the two heroes for their act of defiance. Gilgamesh and Enkidu killed the Bull of Heaven, too, and then they spurned the gods while boasting of their own superhuman prowess. (If you know anything at all about epic poetry, then you know that this was not a smart thing to do.)

For this, Enkidu was struck down by the gods. The two men had been as gemini, and Gilgamesh mourned the death of his friend. Fearing his own mortality, he set off on a great quest to find a plant that would make him immortal. He journeyed into the underworld and across the waters of death before he came upon the old man Utnapishtim. The wise Utnapishtim instructed Gilgamesh in the ways of life and death, but with respect to Gilgamesh's quest, he had only this to say: nothing is permanent. He then gave Gilgamesh the plant of everlasting vitality--the plant that he had sought for so long.

Gilgamesh set the plant on the shore of a crystal clear lake so that he could take a swim. As he swam, a snake emerged from the water, wrapped its body around the plant, and made off with it. Gilgamesh was forced to return to Uruk in failure.

That's right. This most ancient of stories has a sad ending--one of the saddest ever written, in fact. When, pray tell, was the last time you played a game with a sad ending?

In his recent Game Developers Conference keynote address, Nintendo's president, Satoru Iwata, noted that the main thing gamers are looking for when they play games is a sense of accomplishment. Most gamers wish to be rewarded for their efforts in a simple and expedient manner, like dogs that successfully perform a set task. I do not disagree with Iwata-san; I think his assessment of the current state of affairs is accurate. However, I also believe that the ubiquitous notion of "reward" that has taken hold of the industry is far too narrow. It's about time we gamers realized that there are other types of reward to be had than triumphing over one's digital enemies for the hundredth time.

The ancient Greek philosopher Aristotle wrote in his Poetics that catharsis--not mere achievement--is the goal of all tragedy. When Gilgamesh loses his plant to his own carelessness, we the audience are so shocked at his foolishness that we can only stammer and grasp for meaning. This is important: the meaning we take away from the epic of Gilgamesh is not spoonfed to us. Instead, the epic forces us to choose between either devising our own meaningful interpretation, or else losing our sanity. It is a deeply unsettling feeling to be placed in such a situation, but many people also find an appeal in being forced to contemplate tragedy, loss, and chaos. That's why the tragic art has endured through the millennia.

I've played hundreds of games in my life, and of those, the games with narratives that refuse to end in joyous victory for the good guys can be counted on one hand. Frankly, I find this state of affairs more than a bit insulting. I accept from the outset that, as with any sufficiently large group, most gamers are basically ignorant of important matters and unaccustomed to critical thought. But are we any more uncultivated than the average moviegoer? If Hollywood can occasionally pull its act together and produce a film unladen with a saccharine ending, then what strange and unseen obstacle blocks the game developers' path? Some people would take this discrepancy as evidence that games just aren't suited for telling a compelling story. As my previous article will attest, I don't believe that for a minute.

Rather, I choose to believe that these days, game designers (and the people that employ them) are largely devoid of ambition, talent, and creativity. This is not a particularly insightful conclusion that I have reached. The best that I can say for myself is that I've discovered an unorthodox route to the same ruinous cliff as everyone else. Anyone who has kept a pulse on the games industry of late will tell you that gamers who've been active in the hobby for a decade or more are growing worried. We stand gathered there on the precipice, huddled together for warmth, as a strong wind threatens to cast us all into rocky depths best left unplumbed. The reasons for this dire situation are manifold; you will find that many of them have been well documented in the GWJ articles from the last few months. Consider this article as yet another insistent voice, added to a growing choir.

Then, go back and reread my first paragraph, and make of things what you will.

Comments

You know, I hadn't expected gaming to be anything other than a Pavlovian reward system. Really, I had been taught since the NES days, you beat the level, you feel good. Rinse, repeat. There's rarely been anything else to it.

Yet you just laid it out right there, there's emotional depth in tragedy, and it's that emotional depth that I enjoy in games so much. Even Doom had a tragic ending, cheesy sure, but who doesn't remember the end of the shareware episode and that room full of unstoppable death? Or the end of Half-Life 1 and it's impossible choice? Or Planescape: Torment for that matter?

More games need to have the balls to lay it out for the player, to show them the world the game inhabits isn't filled with magical mushrooms and happy stars. Sometimes, when the hero dies you didn't lose after all. I wish more games did that.

Your point is quite sound...I feel assured that when the industry feels that the consumer market would appreciate more compelling storylines (by paying more for them) we will see a change. In fact, I'd say this applies to all major complains with the game industry. The sort of gamers who love such games are fewer in number then the hordes...

We need less 'comfortable' games, and more risks. But unfortunately, risks are, well, risky - and no one wants to take them.

Great article, incidently.

DrunkenSleipnir wrote:

Great article, incidently.

Did you laugh when I said "myriad"? (It's a Larry Niven in-joke.)

I think we need a Gilgamesh FPS. Somebody call EA!

Nice work Lobo. Too much imagination is never a bad thing. Our good friends the game makers would do well to remember that.

Hmm, good point. There's a need for deeper games. Something more than the proverbial per aspera ad astra, more than puerile fantasies of overcoming all odds and becoming the Best Warrior Ever. And yet, I'm not sure how this can be accomplished.

Catharsis in particular is a tricky thing. It's accomplished through identification, not participation. Gilgamesh (and Oedipus, and Samson, to bring the OT into the game ;)) make some heart-wrenching, but very human choices. We observe them, and we identify, and we almost feel their pain. But their pain is not actually ours - we can understand it, but by being removed from the situation, we also understand the larger scope. We learn from their mistakes, as it were.

So I suppose my question for you would be the following. How to accomplish the same thing in the game, where the player is the hero? I'm not saying it's a matter of the story being badly designed or some such. I think it's a fundamental problem for games, because they give the player complete agency in the world. Can catharsis - or even drama in the classic sense - happen when the audience is making the choices?

But what choices, Doihaveto, do we actually make as gamers most of the time. In the vast majority of games we have just as linear a narrative as any novel, and the only influence we have over the world is whether we can jump through the fiery hoops put in our path. There's a difference between our perception of the game when we fail through our inability to complete a game, and when the game leads to an inevitable twist in story telling.

For example, Final Fantasy VII may not be the highest drama ever told, but it is widely known for the death of a major and beloved character halfway through the game. To hear some gamers talk this moment of gaming was so poignant that it affected their lives, but I never hear anyone complain that the tragedy in the story stole something from the gameplay. The character can't be saved, and so there's no sense of failure on the player's part, no loss of catharsis. The fact is that what Lobo is asking for has already been done in a few instances, and usually to powerful effect. It is a situation, once again, where the risk involved in altering traditional gaming narrative turns off producers, developers, and publishers for a variety of reasons.

Actually, I take that back, kind of. Maybe games are cathartic. Completely, thoroughly cathartic.

Because tragedy, in the Greek sense, is all about watching the hero deal with the situation he finds himself in, but the situation is outside of his control. Oedipus thinks he's in charge, he believes he is free to do what he should. But the gods set everything up from the beginning - the situation is circumscribed, and the hero plays right into it. He has no choice. But all along, he's convinced his will is completely free.

And this is tragedy. The hero can't help but fail in the ways that have alrady been prescribed from the very beginning. The hero is doomed from the start. And yet he believes he brought the demise onto himself.

Isn't this what games are all about? Playing the role, believing we're free to do what we want, yet failing repeatedly in the ways that the designers intended from the very beginning?

Rather, I choose to believe that these days, game designers (and the people that employ them) are largely devoid of ambition, talent, and creativity. This is not a particularly insightful conclusion that I have reached. The best that I can say for myself is that I've discovered an unorthodox route to the same ruinous cliff as everyone else. Anyone who has kept a pulse on the games industry of late will tell you that gamers who've been active in the hobby for a decade or more are growing worried. We stand gathered there on the precipice, huddled together for warmth, as a strong wind threatens to cast us all into rocky depths best left unplumbed.

You speak the things that are in my heart.

doihaveto wrote:

So I suppose my question for you would be the following. How to accomplish the same thing in the game, where the player is the hero? I'm not saying it's a matter of the story being badly designed or some such. I think it's a fundamental problem for games, because they give the player complete agency in the world. Can catharsis - or even drama in the classic sense - happen when the audience is making the choices?

I didn't mention Planescape: Torment by name in the above article, because I kind of want to avoid becoming known as "that guy", but to respond to your lovely question, I must do precisely so. In a strange twist of circumstances, this will once again necessitate a spoiler tag, which means that if you've never played Torment, doihaveto, you won't be able to read my response. But, hey, what can you do?

If I understand your question correctly, it can be rephrased as such: In a traditional theatrical context, catharsis occurs when:

(1) The audience identifies with a tragic figure.
(2) The tragic figure meets some terrible fate.
(3) The audience detaches itself from that figure, and then derives some deeper appreciation of their own life through an act of comparison.

How, then, can catharsis be achieved if there is no detachment at all, as per (3) above?

SPOILERS FOR PLANESCAPE: TORMENT BELOW

For reasons I hope will soon be clear, I think Torment's got catharsis, and lots of it. I'm talking dumptrucks full of nothing but cathartic release. The endgame can play out along numerous divergent paths, but one of the choices the PC will have to make is, essentially, whether to accept and merge with his evil half (here I use the masculine pronoun since the PC in Torment is always male), or whether to kill an important part of himself. Clearly, it's a lose-lose situation.

What's cool about this choice is that, as the little on-screen bitmap is deciding how, exactly, to embrace the Dark Side, the player is doing the same thing. Because I identify with the character in a very direct way -- as you have noted -- I have no choice but to explore what depths lurk within me. As the game ends, The Nameless One has abolished his fear of his own mortality, and he moves on to an eternity of endless combat on an evil plane of existence torn by an epic war between demonic factions. It's not exactly a happy ending, to say the least.

So, by this point, we've satisfied criteria (1) and (2). What about (3)?

You have said that whereas other forms of tragedy work on a principle of identification, games work on a principle of participation. I would venture that "participation" is either a species of identification, or else something of an altogether different nature, on the grounds that at no point during Torment am I incapable of mentally contrasting my own life with the life of The Nameless One. Do you recall in my last article, when I described how in a certain scene in Torment, multiple voices or trains of thought are present in the player's mind all at once? I think something akin to this happens whenever we play a narrative-driven game. My participation with the PC does not replace my identification with the PC. Rather, the two exist side by side. Sometimes they stray from each other, and sometimes they coincide. And oftentimes, they reinforce each other in a way that would not be possible on stage, on film, in a book, or otherwise.

I eagerly await your thoughts. Assuming, that is, that you were able to read past the spoiler tag.

EDIT: In the time it took me to type this, lots of stuff got said. Now, I shall read said stuff.

doihaveto wrote:

Actually, I take that back, kind of. Maybe games are cathartic. Completely, thoroughly cathartic.

Because tragedy, in the Greek sense, is all about watching the hero deal with the situation he finds himself in, but the situation is outside of his control. Oedipus thinks he's in charge, he believes he is free to do what he should. But the gods set everything up from the beginning - the situation is circumscribed, and the hero plays right into it. He has no choice. But all along, he's convinced his will is completely free.

And this is tragedy. The hero can't help but fail in the ways that have alrady been prescribed from the very beginning. The hero is doomed from the start. And yet he believes he brought the demise onto himself.

Isn't this what games are all about? Playing the role, believing we're free to do what we want, yet failing repeatedly in the ways that the designers intended from the very beginning?

OMFG. You just blew my mind clean open. You're now officially on my list of favorite people.

Okay, Lobos, terrific article. I'd like to see more of your stuff on the front page.

Your points are well made, and I'd be the first to agree that given the power of gaming as a medium, there's an astonishing lack of emotional depth to be found in what it produces.

Still, I don't expect games to deliver the same experience that one would derive from a careful reading of Shakespeare, Whitman, Goethe, Greek tragedy, etc. I'm not saying that they can't, or that I don't wish they did (at least once in a while) - I'm just wondering what the final criteria is for a worthwhile gaming experience. To hear you talk (write), there's simply no more fun to be had in the world of gaming, and we might as well light ourselves on fire in front of E3 in protest.

I just spent the last hour gunning down squads of plasma rifle-packing robot chimpanzees in Timesplitters: Future Perfect, and it was a completely satisfying experience. Emotionally deep? Hell no. Did I mind? Not a bit. Would I be disappointed if from here on out, no game offered a more compelling, insightful, thoughtful experience? Absolutely. Would I stop enjoying games that allow me to shoot robot monkeys? Probably not.

Development teams are growing larger, budgets are bigger, and it's increasingly less likely that developers and publishers are going to be willing to take risks on titles that aren't a sure thing. Yep, that's depressing, no way around it. But you also note that those of us who've been playing games for a while are becoming increasingly discerning. So there's definitely a growing market for more intelligent, thoughtful titles. Whether the people with the money will pay any attention to those of us clamoring for something that doesn't involve more than huge guns/boobs remains to be seen.

In the meantime, I intend to enjoy those titles that offer me about the same degree of spiritual and emotional fulfillment as a slice of pizza.

The gulf between what games are and what they could be is a great, yawning chasm that has yet to be filled. Or bridged, or whatever. Yes, that is tragic. But I'm not going to let that keep me from enjoying The Ocarina of Time, that's for damn sure, even if it does have a happy ending.

(minor God of War spoiler alert)

BTW, God of War, all things considered, has a pretty complicated, arguably unhappy ending. No, it's not the epiphany-invoking literary work we may yearn for, but its ulimate failure to resolve the undeniably tragic circumstances that drive the main character forward comes a lot closer to the kind of contemplation-inducing cognitive dissonance you describe. So again, there may be hope.

Yeah, I apologize if I gave the impression that I despise everything that gaming has become of late. In no way do I wish to suggest that we shouldn't have games of all types, games of all stripes.

In fact, that's precisely what I am arguing for, I think. I want to see games on par with Planescape: Torment and Grim Fandango just as regularly as less literary titles. The market has mostly turned its back on that kind of game, however. That's what gets me riled up.

Hope that helps to clarify things.

EDIT: Along those same lines, my article shouldn't be interpreted as arguing that all games with happy endings are flawed. Gilgamesh may have had a tragic ending, but Homer's Odyssey sure didn't. I simply deplore the present dearth of games with unhappy, untidy, and uncomfortable endings.

Actually, I never thought of it this way, but I can now look back and see evidence of your point Lobo.

In Fallout the hero saves the day and his reward is a soletary walk out into the empty wasteland uncertain of his/her future.

In Diablo, the hero is forced to infect/corrupt him/herself to contain the evil. A battle they knowingly will probably lose.

In Diablo2, the last villain gets what he wants and is able to escape vengeance. In the expansion he is defeated but not before irreversible damage to the world is done. Damage that may be undone by changing everything we know.

Development teams are growing larger, budgets are bigger, and it's increasingly less likely that developers and publishers are going to be willing to take risks on titles that aren't a sure thing. Yep, that's depressing, no way around it. But you also note that those of us who've been playing games for a while are becoming increasingly discerning. So there's definitely a growing market for more intelligent, thoughtful titles. Whether the people with the money will pay any attention to those of us clamoring for something that doesn't involve more than huge guns/boobs remains to be seen.

Perhaps it was due to comments recently made (by Most?) on a thread in the forums about game development as art but the parallels between the current state of the interactive entertainment industry and the early days of filmmaking become more and more obvious to me. While that may have both positive and negative implications, the fact that modern Hollywood can still successfully produce tragic films (e.g. American Beauty) lends me a glimmer of hope. As much as it is lamented by some, I suspect that the growth of the industry is necessary in order to allow producers and publishers to take the very risks that you have collectively claimed to desire. It wasn't tragic, but The Sims was risky. Perhaps next time it will be the story instead of the gameplay that is the risk. As the industry grows and companies make their core monies with "safe" titles, they will hopefully take more chances in an effort to differentiate themselves and have the next "Titanic" of gaming.

fangblackbone wrote:

In Fallout the hero saves the day and his reward is a soletary walk out into the empty wasteland uncertain of his/her future.

For this reason alone, Fallout is classic. I had never, ever been "sent away" after having "saved the day" in a game before the end of Fallout. I suppose that was but one of the reasons I sat at my PC, stunned for several minutes . . .

The other reason: Upon completeing Fallout I had just played the greatest game ever created. Never before had I been allowed free reign in someone else's universe, except in good old tabletop D&D.

I suppose this is but another reason why Fallout has such a huge and dedicated following.

Yes, I was thinking Fallout as well (having just played it through last week.) See, Fallout, like Torment, is a narrative based game. Such games are the only way to really embrace the characters, and thus get a sense of genuine emotion in the end. Don't get me wrong, Megaman is great, but he was never a sympathetic character.

I really like doihaveto's point - there is a sense of tragic drama in the struggle of a game - it almost makes it seem like a conflict between the player and the designer - a conflict of wills...one the player must always lose.

One of the reason I've moved more towards the great PC RPGs and away from the classic console fare is for these sorts of reasons...I sort of got tired of saving the world, getting the girl, and beating the ultimate evil OVER AND OVER AGAIN. I still love my JRPGs, but I found a real spot for the storytelling elements in Fallout or Planescape: Torment.

I might also suggest that the present mood in the last few years has been one of insecurity, because of various politcal and social events. I recall watching an interesting interview with the developer of the PT Cruiser, and how it was designed to provide comfort to people in unsure times (being so insanely massive). It could be that in these modern and potentially scary times people want (or game developers think they do) games with happy, safe, secure endings.

Personally, I do think we'll see a flood of orignal and interesting games in the next decade or so - once the current market stagnates, and somebody looks back and says 'Hey, remember those awesome old games? Why don't we try to captivate our players like that?'

Isn't this what games are all about? Playing the role, believing we're free to do what we want, yet failing repeatedly in the ways that the designers intended from the very beginning?

If they made the player even subconciously aware of this, I could give them points for it. As it stands, it seems like unintentional tragedy, which you could argue makes it more tragic sure, but not really more cathartic.

Though I don't know if I could take a game that tried to make you aware of just how badly the designers were screwing you over

Pyroman[FO] wrote:

Though I don't know if I could take a game that tried to make you aware of just how badly the designers were screwing you over :)

Serious Sam 1 & 2 are like that. You know that they're just screwing with you, but for some reason it's fun.

Fletcher1138 wrote:

Serious Sam 1 & 2 are like that. You know that they're just screwing with you, but for some reason it's fun.

Yes, with those it was like "Oh, the nice delevopers gave me health...oh hell..." as hordes suddenly appear and tear you to shreds. I can't think of another game in which I felt so conspired against by the people who built the game

And I love it, of course.

I'm glad people finally brought up Fallout. I'm amazed it took so long though.

Pyroman[FO] wrote:
Isn't this what games are all about? Playing the role, believing we're free to do what we want, yet failing repeatedly in the ways that the designers intended from the very beginning?

If they made the player even subconciously aware of this, I could give them points for it. As it stands, it seems like unintentional tragedy, which you could argue makes it more tragic sure, but not really more cathartic.

In Fallout, there is no way in hell you could possibly have forseen the tragic ending. Equal tragedy would be if Frodo took the ring and jumped into the lava river himself. A self-sacrificing hero, who dooms himself to save the rest. A soldier that jumps on a granade to save his squad. That is pretty damned cathartic to me.

As far as the great stories go, I think the trickle of great Adventure games that we've had in the last few years actually do a pretty good job. They may not be very tragic, but they don't lack in the story department. I have very fond memories of Syberia (both 1 and 2). In neither one did I save the world, come to a grave revalation, become some universal hero, or any such thing. Yet the stories were beautiful and I stood there reflecting upon my time with the game as they ended. Not overly cathartic, but very satisfying in a meaningful way.

It occured to me, through reading the two of the Lobo's articles and the replies to this one, that games can do something books cannot. They can, through false sense of freedom, force you to make decisions you would not ever want to make in real life. By doing that, they can force you to identify with the protagonist in a much more intimate way. Because you are not just reading about, or watching some character make a very tough choice, but you have to make it as well. Imagine if you had a companion in a very well written RPG. Now imagine if you were faced with a decision to sacrifice this companion for some greater good, or maybe not even as much.

And as I was writing this, I realized that there were plenty of games that did this already. My first most memorable emotional gaming experience came from an old Infocom text adventure called Planetfall. At the end, one of the puzzles requires you to send your "pet" robot into a room full of zombies to get some key. He does, but is so badly damaged, that when he comes out he dies in your arms as the fuilds squirt out of his ripped body. The whole thing is greately grafic and I balled like a little baby as I tried to read his death scene. In Fallout 2, you get a chance to install a brain into a robotic shell to get a new NPC. It just happens so that there is a brain extracting lab next door, in case you have any NPCs in tow, whose brains you don't mind extracting. How many of you installed Myron's brain into the robot? (that annoying b***h) But now imagine if Cassady's brain were the best to put into the robot. Would you (could you) have done it? Would you even try and than reload the saved game?

--Edit--
Beat some spelling gremlins with a stick.

Personally I just picture the state of affairs in gaming, as me moving farther and farther away from it's target demographic - the 13 yr old. That combined with the fact I've played my share of games means that alot of new stuff just isn't too interesting. Alot of stuff is just product as opposed to games. But that works well with my lack of time to play as many games as I once did.

But their pain is not actually ours - we can understand it, but by being removed from the situation, we also understand the larger scope. We learn from their mistakes, as it were.

So I suppose my question for you would be the following. How to accomplish the same thing in the game, where the player is the hero?

At the risk of being *coughed* for not reading the rest of the thread, removing yourself from your question might make the answer obvious.

By making the player NOT be the hero. Instead of being Gilgamesh, the player would be Enkidu. He would still have choices and impact certain parts of the game(though not necessarily the overarching narrative, which he generally doesn't anyway), but would still be somewhat removed from the hero's internal dialogue, choices, and pain, while, being the trusted friend and sidekick, would still, hopefully, identify with the hero.

I think this could have potential for a host of game styles and stories, and would make the "problem" of gamifying old literature, such as Gilgamesh, less of a problem. Yes, you might end up with a more narrative gameplay, but I think it would be an interesting tack for some indies to attempt. Hell, I'm interested in taking a crack at it on a small scale.

Edit: Yes, I know the premature death of Enkidu in that particular example makes it a bad example, but it was the one at hand.

I agree with trip1ex about time being an element in which I have less and less of to devote to gaming.

That being said, the time I do have is extremely important to me and I don't really want to waste it playing another game where I am:

saving the world, getting the girl, and beating the ultimate evil OVER AND OVER AGAIN

Unfortunately, I was sort of hoping Fable wouldn't turn out like it did. I did have quite a bit of fun with KotOR and Morrowind, however, and am looking forward to Jade Empire.

Still, I readily subscribe to DrunkenSleipnir's idea:

I might also suggest that the present mood in the last few years has been one of insecurity, because of various politcal and social evente. . . . It could be that in these modern and potentially scary times people want (or game developers think they do) games with happy, safe, secure endings.

In this new millenium, post-9/11 world, perhaps people really do want to be coddled. I dunno. Part of the "Huh?" factor from playing Fallout all the way through was the kick in the teeth at the end of the game. I thoroughly enjoyed the ambush, never expecting it in a million years. From time to time you still get that; like the guy that betrays your party in Baldur's Gate II, which is along the same lines as the betrayal in Neverwinter Nights.

I want more games like that, though in these latter two examples you could almost see the betrayals coming. Being caught totally off-guard rarely happens anymore in games (and I'm not talking about something jumping out of the shadows at you, like in Half-Life or Doom), and it really is a case of there always needing to be a "happy ending."

So far offtopic. Pointless nitpickery.

[quote-"MoonDragon"]In Fallout, there is no way in hell you could possibly have forseen the tragic ending. Equal tragedy would be if Frodo took the ring and jumped into the lava river himself. A self-sacrificing hero, who dooms himself to save the rest. A soldier that jumps on a granade to save his squad. That is pretty damned cathartic to me.[/quote]
I've gotta take issue with the examples used here. I think Fallout's ending was significantly different than these. Now, if Frodo was summarily killed by Gandalf (or the elves, or the men of Gondor) for bearing the last vestiges of the taint from the One Ring, I think that would be of the same ilk. More of an externally imposed decision, rather than a self-sacrificing choice.

(I also happen to think that would be a pretty kickass ending for LoTR. :))

Can Fallout be played on XP? I started it once years ago, but then I was attacked by dingoes or had to go to work or something, and never progressed. I still have the disc, I think.

Like Fang said. Diablo 1/2. I'd add Max Payne as well. Maybe Prince of Persia: Sands of Time and some installments of Mortal Kombat too, to an extent.

I'd agree that some most visceral adventures all have a commonality of having a bittersweet (as opposed to candy-coated) ending.

Some of the Gold Box RPG's had not necessarily tragic endings but real loss during the telling of the story.

Perhaps the reason Curse of the Azure Bonds stands out as my favorite is because of the bonds or overtones of being controlled by someone else. One by one you loosen the chains by defeating your captors but the journey's reward is the right to live normaly, albiet with +6 plate armor and a magical 2 handed sword. That sounds like a cookie cutter catharsis inducing story... a tremendous struggle just to get back to normal would induce an appreciation of the fact that we dont need to struggle nearly enough to maintain our daily existence.

Death Knights of Krynn had real tragedy. One of the beloved NPC's from the prequel dies and becomes a boss of the undead army you are to fight. His lover, who was revealed to be a silver dragon in human form, goes mad.

Funny that these games set a precedent 20 years ago that was seldom followed.

Now that I think about it, arent all video games inherently cathartic? Since our counterparts must perform super human feats just to be loved (get the girl) or to maintain their existence or existence of their current environment, upon helping them complete their objectives, shouldnt we feel better that we dont have to but bounce on crates to get our fruit or slay the whirlpool monster everytime we cross the sea?

Catharsis is a sudden emotional breakdown or climax that constitutes overwhelming feelings of great pity, sorrow, laughter, or any extreme change in emotion that results in the renewal, restoration and revitalization for living.

I would whole-heartedly agree with you but its a VERY fine line to tread in this type of entertainment. Most (and this is very general) get story telling in games all wrong. Mostly because of the fact that games are and have mostly always been driven by eye-candy and the story is always thrown in to tie everything together.

Think about it. If you are playing a game and in the end, no matter what you did, you died or did not succeed... how would you feel? Oh the adventure is great and it might have a very "romantic" storyline, but you would probably still feel like "What the??". Hollywood falls flat with this too. PERFECT EXAMPLE... the current StarWars. Event if Lucas didnt screw up the stories to begin with, we still know what happens... Anakin = Darth. No matter how cool... its STILL the same, good guys lose.

Anyway, the games Pyro mentioned are rare and they have definately become classics and pillars that game developers try to climb.

Would we like what you *wish* for? Hell yea! Who would appreciate it? The older (GWJ folks). Who spends the most money on games? KIDS (or their parents). Can kids appreciate catharsis? Hell no. Cartharsis != $$

PAR

I think it may have more to do with the relative age and experience level of the kids making the games, than that of those buying them.

What wise, experienced, intelligent post-30 adult would suffer as much as most game devs do for their employers before saying sayonara?