The ethics of Fable 3

Many people have already pointed out extensively that Fable 3 failed to live up to the expectations set by its predecessors. In fact one of the top listings for a Google search of "Fable 3" is one of the most polemic reviews I have ever read, though it is mostly fair. However, despite all the problems with the game, there is an interesting moral point to be made (Spoiler alert!).
Peter Molyneux, creator of Lionhead Studios and morality charged games such as the Black & White and Fable games was truly an innovator of the use of moral consequences in video games. Black & White allowed the player to be either a benevolent, giving god or a malicious, vengeful one. This gimmick proved to be very popular with players and Molyneux included it in the first Fable game, where moral actions adjust certain aspects of gameplay (for example, if you kill Whisper in the Colosseum, her brother takes vengeance on you). It all culminates in the end when the player is given the opportunity to slay his mother and sister for a very powerful sword or let them live and not have it. Fable 2 incorporates many of the same qualities but makes the morality grid more complex, adding corruption to the mix.
Fable 3 removes the corruption scale and goes back to a simpler form like the original Fable, but the morality choices have greater impact on the game. There are, of course, the standard, "do you spare this man's life or kill him" options, the decisions are more difficult and more serious. In the beginning of the game, the player is asked whether to have his/her lover executed or a handful or revolutionaries. The "ethical" choice is to have the lover killed, but if the player decides not to choose, all of them are executed. Midway through the game, the player is asked whether or not he would like to spare his tyrannical brother's life after staging a coup. If the player does, the brother informs him that he is grateful the player is taking the difficult burden of the kingdom off of his shoulders, and, oh, by the way, the reason why he was so tyrannical is that he was trying to raise up funds to pay for an army to defeat evil incarnate which will soon destroy the land.
The rest of the game, then, revolves around making moral choices about how to best spend the kingdom's money and the player is given a prisoner's dilemma: If the player becomes a spendthrift and withholds public spending, the kingdom will have enough money to defeat the coming evil and everyone will live. If the player spends the kingdom's money on public works, the coming evil will kill everyone in the country. On the one hand, the player can increase his morality but lose in the end, and on the other, the player can be just as bad as his brother and save everyone. I, of course, cheated and purchased every piece of property in the kingdom and raised taxes and rent as high as I could (effectively becoming a despot) and used that money to pay for public works as well as the army. This effectively kept my morality up and saved the kingdom, though it required me putting an unbearable tax burden on my subjects (tenants).
The question that this raises (as it does in all Fable games) is what is the real point of the morality system? There's no really good way to win this and in the third game it does not seem like keeping a high morality has any discernible consequences. Furthermore, like many other "sandbox" style games, there is a great temptation within the Fable universe to commit crimes that one could not commit in real life (eg murdering peasants, breaking into houses, destroying others' property) that results in no real consequence. In the first Fable game, it even allowed the player to gain experience and good weapons. In the second and third games, being good costs the player. So the real question is, in a game that explores morality as a major part of its gameplay, what is the motivator for being good?
This is where the true ethical philosophy of the Fable universe steps in. The point is there is not much of a real difference. Let me return to the three major ethical examples I provided to illustrate this. In the first choice, the most ethical thing a player could do would be to not decide (unless the player is a utilitarian, in which case choosing the lover is obviously the more ethical choice). Thus, the false notion of being responsible for the death of innocents would not be presented to the player's conscience. However, if the player does not choose, both parties are executed mercilessly, suggesting that the player's decision to remove the culpability of the slaughter of innocents from himself has, in fact, made him responsible for more death. Thus, the first choice teaches us that consequences are unavoidable and our actions do little to cure the world of evil.
The second choice teaches us that making either an ethical or an unethical choice is really rather inconsequential, that is, the ends remain the same. If the player kills his brother, he can still save the kingdom and win the game. If the player dose not kill his brother, he can still win the game. The only difference is that the brother gives the back story for why he became such a tyrant. No monetary gain, influence or strategic advantage is gained or lost for choosing one way or another. The ending remains the same.
The third choice demonstrates to us that there are no real "good" or "evil" choices. The good choices to create public works and improve life in the city cause the death of six million citizens. The "bad" choices to cut funding and increase taxes saves the lives of six million people. And, of course, the decision to do as I did and increase rent on all six million people keeps the financial burden too high and increases injustice.
Thus, Fable 3's ethic is one of futility. It borders on the Stoic notion of apathy, that is, our choices don't make much difference one way or another. However, it might be more rightly assumed that rather than apathy, the message of Fable 3 is a Nietzschean ethic. The will to power is, in this game, truly the most powerful motivator and justification. The character spends half the game coming to power and the other half trying to maintain that power. The most practical choice a player could make would be to 1) have the villagers killed, 2) have the brother killed in vengeance and 3) keep the money in the treasury while putting a high rent and tax rate on the citizens. I finished the final battle with little more than 500,000 gold (after amassing over 20 million) to my name. I could have kept that 20 million and saved the country (each citizen is one more person to lord over) had I simply decided to not give them anything they wanted.

The puppet master: Going above the chaos of Mirror's Edge

Mirror's Edge, to the casual observer is a chaotic game. The gameplay itself makes the player feel like Spider-Man, were spider man to lose his ability to use webbing and able to slow down time. And if Spider-Man on occasion turned police and security officer's guns against them. The graphics are at once beautiful and confusing: One can tell the high-definition capability of the Xbox 360 is being fully utilized but finds himself perplexed at the fact that the entire city seems to only contain bright shades of red, blue, green, yellow and orange. Finally, the story is even more confusing, as the player (spoilers) discovers that a person she thought was her friend (Celeste) is really her enemy, a person she thought was her enemy (Miller) turns out to be a friend, a person she thought was just a friendly competitor (Jacknife) is her archenemy and a person who ought to be a rival (Faith's sister Kate) turns out to be her only true friend. In other words, the story is filled with so many twists that the player does not know what to think of it nor does he probably care (Mirror's Edge tends to rely more on the gameplay than the story line as a game).
The thoughtful gamer might have tried to understand the message of the game. Perhaps he thought it was one of trusting family over all else. Perhaps he thought it was keeping hope in a world of obstacles. Perhaps it was simply a cautionary tale of the risk of fascism. I submit that none of these truly address the message of Mirror's Edge. The real story of Mirror's Edge is about a man who plays characters like pawns. It's about a man whose identity, unlike those of Celeste and Jacknife is kept in the shadows for the entire game. The game is about a puppet master and the way in which his carefully organized plan controls the rest of the city.
I am, of course, referring to Merc, or Mercury. This might seem like a baseless accusation, but allow me to present the evidence. In the first place, in a game where many characters' names have theological connotations to them (Faith, Celeste, Pope), Mercury is the only one whose name is that of a god. It is the name of a Roman god specifically (Hermes in Greek), who is well-known for his fleet-footed message delivery (a fitting title for a character who supposedly specializes in delivering bags for people). But the well-versed classicist will recall that the Greek and Roman deities loved to pit mortals against each other in their disputes. Of course, since Mercury is the lone god in the game, he does not have any other people to pit his pawns against.
One might object that Merc dies between the last two missions. This may be true. However, I do not believe it to be. We never see Mercury actually shot, nor do we see any gunshot wounds in his body. When Faith suggests going to get medical help, Mercury emphatically refuses. There is just as much reason to believe he faked his own death rather than actually died.
Then of course, there is all the evidence that clears everyone away but him. Faith is constantly being followed and shot at by police officers. We have to conclude one of three things from this: either she has incredibly bad luck, the police are being tipped off to her whereabouts or anybody who happens to be seen moving throughout the city is automatically shot at. The first and third option seem a little farfetched, which leaves us the second. Of course, only Mercury knows where Faith is because of their com-link set up. This automatically throws a dark shadow on his reputation. But consider also that the police who are good enough to track Faith through dark sewers and confusing railway stations are never able to follow her back to her base of operations--that is until she brings her sister back there. When the police department is so dedicated to tracking Faith that they send helicopters, multiple snipers, fully armored swat teams and even what seem to be ninjas after her, it makes no sense that they would not be listening to her radio traffic or tracking her return to base--unless they were not supposed to. Add to this the fact that Merc always seems to know where the police are and has the ability to open and close doors seemingly at will from his computer, and it is my suggestion that he has to be someone very high up, perhaps even Mayor Pope.
This of course is a very dangerous accusation to make, but it makes perfect sense. The final mission, wherein Faith storms the mayor's residence, the mayor is nowhere to be seen. When the player enters the underground garage we get the feeling that we witness the mayor as he is leaving, but it seems very confusing that the most powerful man in the city would do such a thing, unless he did not want his identity being found out. Furthermore, we find out that Celeste and Jacknife are maintaining secret identities, so it should be no surprise that Mercury is also some sinister figure. Finally, he does seem to be the only one who knows simultaneously where the police and Faith are, yet somehow keeps bringing them together. For all of his "efforts" to help Faith avoid the police, she often finds herself in more and more difficult situations. At one point, Mercury directs Faith into a sewer system where the darkness and the difficulty of navigating the tunnels ought to give her an extreme advantage, yet she emerges to find three snipers waiting for her. The coincidences are uncanny.
One might wonder, then, why? Why would Mercury/Pope do such a thing? It's quite clear when the puzzle is put together. In order for a tyrant to function, he needs to remind the people that he is necessary. By creating a city-wide villain, his efforts to take her down can be seen as heroic. From the very first mission, even before Kate and Faith are framed for murder, Faith is a fugitive running from police officers who shoot at her without warning. The only reason one can think of for this is because they have been given specific orders to attack this woman. In every level following this, the police officers continue this pattern--instead of attempting arrest they go straight for the killshot. In this way, the public perceives Faith as much more dangerous and if the police are able to kill her, it prevents her from being able to testify in court. Kate, of course, serves as the bait to lull Faith into being framed for the murder of his opponent. By imprisoning Kate, Mercury can use her as further bait for his national villain as well as cast a dubious light on the Connor family. This villain also happens to be present for Ropeburn's death, breaks into PK security and shoots at a convoy for the mayor's parade. There is no way that Faith can be viewed by the public in a positive light.
This also ties together seemingly loose ends. For example, how would Celeste, the ninja-assassin that kills Ropeburn, know to expect Faith at the shopping mall (complete with a small army of support) unless she had been told exactly what the conversation between Ropeburn and Faith was (the only other person, of course, who would have heard it was Mercury)? Why would the police be unable to find Mercury's lair until after Faith recovers her sister for the first time (except for the obvious need of a Deus ex Machina) unless he called them in? When Faith finds Project Icarus, why is it that Celeste (PK's ninja-assassin) and Jacknife (the police informant) be on the list of runners along with Faith and Mercury unless the list was created specifically to be misleading?
At the end of the game, the situation we're left with is this: Celeste has been essentially persuaded to give up her profession as both a runner and a ninja, Jacknife has been killed, Mercury has been declared dead, the mayoral opposition has been eliminated, the overly-aggressive police chief has been assassinated by a runner, the PK security company has been infiltrated and files have been compromised, and two fugitive sisters are stuck at the top of the most highly-protected building in a city run by a tyrant. The mayor has a lot to gain from these events, events that were eased along by a voice talking in the ear of the woman who comes to be seen as a bane upon the entire city.
What, then, is the true message of Mirror's Edge? The true message is that our lives are controlled by forces we do not see, by people whom we trust and by events which we think are random but happen to be quite-well planned. In other words, our freedom is an illusion. Mercury masterfully bends all the characters to his will in this dark tale, leaving the thinking player to contemplate how much of his life is being pulled by strings connected to hands unseen.

The (a)theology of Dungeon Siege III

*Spoilers* In case you wanted to play Dungeon Siege III for the story line and have not yet, I would suggest you do not read on. For those who either a) have played or b) don't care about the story, continue.
The third installment of the Dungeon Siege series relies much more heavily on the storyline of the game than do the other two. The first Dungeon Siege game relies much more on the gameplay than on any specific story elements, and ultimately the Ehb of that game is forgettable. The second game incorporates much more story into the game, and truly stands out as a unique game. While the main character has a generic "chosen hero to save the world" story, each of the secondary characters has an interesting story, each of which is further explored via sidequests. The third game, however, disappoints in this regard and the story line is so rigid that we learn very little of each of the characters and have no character-specific sidequests. While the shortcomings of sequel games released in the last year would be an all-too-telling article, this post shall instead examine a main motif of the third dungeon siege game: the theology of Ehb, and the critical structure of the story of the third Dungeon Siege game as a model of atheistic polemic.
In the first place, it is worth noting that the third Dungeon Siege game is not by Chris Taylor, the mind behind the first two, but is, in fact, by Richard Taylor (whose relationship is unknown to me). This might explain the great difference in tone between the games, but this is merely conjecture on my part. Regardless, gods of any sort are only tangentially mentioned in the first Dungeon Siege game. The second game relies heavily on the lore and myth of Arana as the events of the past are being relived throughout the game. The third Dungeon Siege game, then, takes the mythology that is highly praised and elaborated in the second game and quite simply vilifies it.
To further explore this, we shall examine the way that religious belief is treated in both Dungeon Siege II and Dungeon Siege III. In Dungeon Siege II, Azunai is lifted up as this great and heroic character. Though most of the people worship him as a god, the lore within the game does not suggest as much. Rather they, lift him up as an heroic figure who possessed uncanny strength and ability. Along with his consort Xeria and a handful of other legends, Azunai took on, and defeated, Zaramoth, the Unmaker on the Plain of Tears. This battle concludes with a final combat between Zaramoth and Azunai, wherein Zaramoth strikes Azunai's shield with his sword and both are shattered into pieces and the universe shakes and trembles with the blow. If Azunai is not a god, he certainly possesses powers of one. The player goes throughout the game attempting to assemble Azunai's shield in order to take on Valdis, an evil-minded prince who has sought to "unmake" the world once again. The player reassembles the shield, finds out he (or she) is a direct descendent of Azunai, and thereby is able to wield the shield, and finally takes on Valdis for a fight to the death.
The legend of the final Azunite battle and the connection to the player's current time are so important and frequently referenced in the game that in order for a player to feign ignorance he would have to skip all cutscenes, ignore every book he came across and stare blankly at the screen every time a major event happened in the game. Needless to say, the story of how Azunai overcame a great evil for the good of mankind is a central theme of the game.
Compare this to Dungeon Siege III. If Dungeon Siege II had a fairly consistent, easy to follow, if not elaborate, pantheon, Dungeon Siege III presents multiple panthea. The Lescanzy, a Gypsy-like people, seem to worship "the Dark Sister and the Hound." The Archon women have a pantheon of "Old creator gods" whose names we never learn (except for Nagog, whom the Fist People seem to worship). Rheinhart speaks incessantly about theology and thaumaturgy, though nothing he says seems to suggest he knows anything about either (because the author is a theologian, this genuinely irritates him). Finally, the idol worship of Azunai is blown out of proportion to the point where we learn that the main enemy in the game, Jeyne Kassynder (why Richard Taylor chose this bizarre spelling of a name is beyond me) is the head of the Azunite Church and is leading her army of Azunite faithful against the player's rag-tag team of royal loyalists.
Because of the way in which the notion of the worship of Azunai is portrayed, one gets the impression that at some point Dungeon Siege decided to stop being about people fighting what amounts to be some medieval-esque notion of incarnated evil to some sort of sharp critique of religion. It is often hinted throughout the game that Jeyne Kassynder fabricated an elaborate lie in order to turn the people against their defenders, the 10th Legion and that resulted in a fractured kingdom, a massacre in Stonebridge and a usurpation of power by the religiously esteemed Kassynder. At no point are the Azunites, who were revered so much in the second game (even when the player had to slaughter their undead corpses), depicted as anything less than mindless, tireless killing machines in Dungeon Siege III, while the few characters foolish enough to follow a 17 year-old queen for the archaic notion of royal power, are given depth and emotion enough to make us genuinely care for them. Even at the end of the game it is revealed that Jeyne Kassynder did not truly believe the doctrine that she spread abroad to half of the kingdom. Rather, Kassynder worshiped the old creator gods and used the misplaced trust in Azunai as a vantage point from which to gain power over the people.
The message here is clear. The creators of the third installment of the Dungeon Siege series are making a social commentary about religion. It is a clear statement about the mindless obedience of the adherents to a faith and the willingness to believe whatever sort of lie is told in the name of someone's faith. The message is that religion corrupts the truth.
To make matters more interesting, it seems that Dungeon Siege III is attacking monotheism itself, and possibly Christianity in particular. Often times "saints" are referenced in the game, and the Church of Azunai is founded, not by Azunai himself or by one of his direct followers, but by a man who reported having a manifestation of the Azunai. This is not evidence sufficient for itself, but whereas Dungeon Siege II portrayed many gods in the traditional pantheon, Dungeon Siege III only seems to have regard for Azunai, at least within the Church of Azunai, suggesting monotheism. Finally, if the player completes the optional sidequest "Dungeon Siege," hidden in a room that has to be opened by attacking the wall rather than opening the door is a book about Azunai wherein it is suggested that Azunai was merely a mortal man who united a few nomad tribes to attack Zaramoth the giant, David and Goliath style. The intention of this book is clear: Azunai was no extraordinary hero and legends about him are highly exaggerated. This book might be easily dismissed except for the fact that when the player tries to open the door to the prison cell, a message suggesting the door was sealed to keep something from ever getting out appears and this incident occurs as the player is nearing the final showdown with Jeyne Kassyinder, the insane leader of the Azunite Church. Though it is not obvious by virtue of this fact that Azunai is a representation of Jesus, the elevation of a man to a God certainly parallels this, and many scholars have suggested that while Jesus of Nazareth certainly lived and performed great deeds, the Gospels have overstated the exact nature of his work.
Thus we have it that Dungeon Siege III takes on an atheistic stance. In the first place, the inclusion of a Lescanzy, an Archon, and a pseudo-theologian as main characters signifies a relativity among religions. In the second place, the fact that the obsessed enemy leader of power usurper is the head of the dominant religion emphasizes that religion is not trustworthy. Third, the fact that said leader does not believe the religion for herself emphasizes its incredulity. Fourth and finally, the texts within the game refer to Azunai's legend as being overemphasized and overblown.
Thus, when we look at the game of Dungeon Siege III as a whole, the abuse of the power of the Church of Azunai, the zealous devotion of Jeyne's army and the entire lack of emphasis on Azunai suggests a parallelism to modern religion that stings with polemicism. In fact, nothing of the game suggests any positive element of religion...
That's a piece of concept art done for Dungeon Siege III depicting Azunai the Defender. If you have played the game all the way through, his countenance should look familiar. If you have not, then suffice it to say there may be an underlying theme of divine intervention in Dungeon Siege III, one which, rather than altogether polemicizes religion offers a critique of religion insofar as it has corrupted the ways of truth.
This question I shall leave to the readers to decide.

Alan Wake: an Exegesis

Video games by nature tend to be strange. The two most iconic classic games involve what looks like a pie chart eating white spots (pills? balls? marbles?) while being chased by ghosts and an Italian plumber who stomps on turtles and mushrooms while eating mushrooms in order to save a princess from a giant dragon/turtle. Games have not gotten any less weird since then. This is made manifest by the "unreality theory" which suggests that as game graphics, sounds, and AIs and physics become more realistic, the game must become more unrealistic in other ways. Thus, games like Star Wars: The Force Unleashed or Crackdown, while providing fantastic graphics, allow the player to have unrealistic super powers that seem to bend the laws of physics. Enemies also become more unrealistic and absurd and sometimes even the story line of the game might be quite bizarre, as with Katamari Damacy. This is because video games are, primarily, entertainment, but more specifically, an escape. Gamers play games generally speaking because they want to be able to experience what they could or would otherwise not experience.
It should come as no surprise, then, that the game Alan Wake, a horror/adventure game, is quite a bit bizarre. For anybody who has not played the game, I suggest first that if you don't want anything spoiled, do not read this, but secondly, you'll remember that the game follows the writer Alan Wake as he tries to find his wife in a rural town in Washington state. What sticks out about this game, however, is that it is bizarre in a different way than most other games. Whereas many games start bizarre from the beginning, usually with effects, physics or gameplay, and maintain an air of the strange throughout the game in predictable ways, or else start out bizarre but become more normal as the plot and storyline is revealed (this is especially the case with Square Enix games), Alan Wake begins strange, gets a little more normal, and then really gets weird toward the end.
The reader, if he played throughout Alan Wake, will recall that, much like "Silent Hill," whenever the gaming environs become dark (usually with appropriate dramatic music and visual blur), the player is in danger of being attacked by the "Taken." And while the game is, predictably, focused on somehow eliminating the Taken while getting Alice Wake back from wherever she is, the plot gets quite bizarre at the end. What seem to be Dei ex machina or other unexplainable plot devices seem to appear without rhyme or reason. Toward the end, we see Tom Zane as "the space man," the darkness as some sort of personified entity, the clicker as some sort of magic talisman that destroys the darkness, and, perhaps most strangely, "the lake is an ocean." And while I was at first upset at the lack of any sort of cohesive, understandable ending, after some reflection, I have concluded that Alan Wake is an allegory, and after further reflection, I have come across two possible readings of it.

Reading One: Alan Wake as an Existentialist Text
Much like the great novels of the Existentialists, Alan Wake presents what seems like a bizarre story told in order to make a point. All of the various aspects of the story have meaning if only we understand.
In the first place, Alan Wake is the everyman. The fact that a simple writer from New York is the enemy-destroying protagonist, while the better trained hunters and police officers are claimed by the Taken should be a clear indication of this. The fact that Alan is a writer is a metaphor for all of our lives. Alan tries desperately to try to control the world he lives in or convinces himself he will be able to provided he reach some vague, undetermined goal, all the while the world is raging violently against him. Alan spends the game picking up sheets of manuscript paper which detail events that occur in the world. He tries to convince himself that he wrote these pages, that he planned out his destiny, yet he has no recollection of this. Alan Wake desperately holds onto the illusion of control all the while trying to fight what seems to be the entire world.
The darkness represents death. This is Alan's number one fear, his wife's fear and ultimately the thing that ends up claiming most of the people of the town and Alan's wife, and the thing that he must ultimately confront. At one point, Dr Hartmann plainly declares, "Your wife is dead," which Alan is adamant is not the case. In the end, we do not see that Alan has saved her, but rather that Alan himself is claimed by the darkness. The main theme, then, of the game is Alan's journey to accepting death. The "Taken" that he fights, presumably meant to be a play on the notion of "possession," have been "taken" by death and all that remains is their spectres. Thus, even though Alan kills hundreds of what ought to have been normal town residents, there seems to be little real panic on the part of the town: for Alan is merely coming to grips with the fact that all die.
This is most clearly true when one considers that his weapons of choice to fight the taken are a flashlight and a gun. The flashlight reveals the truth to Alan: that these spectres attacking him are merely what is left of real people. The gun, then is Alan's resignation, and his acceptance that they are dead--manifested by the fact that he "kills" them himself. Ultimately, the light makes it so that the phantoms of the dead are unable to affect him. When Alan reaches a safe haven, the Taken are unable to attack him and disappear from his presence. This is a representation of the light of truth protecting Alan from the crippling insanity that awaits him if he does not accept the reality of death.
The various characters have specific roles too. Alice and Barry have no symbolic meaning: Alice is the protagonist's deceased wife whom he longs for, and Barry is his best friend who has come to try to comfort him in his suffering but does not know how to respond to his friend's increasing detachment and mania. Sheriff Baker represents the call of order and law that tries to maintain keep Alan sane but ultimately is swept into his mania. Agent Nightingale represents a sort of "hyper-order" a conspiracy theory that adds to Alan's mania and increases his inability to reach a calm state. Dr Hartmann is the plain matter-of-fact voice that speaks the truth, even though it does so in order to try to take advantage of Alan's ability. He is the voice of society that wishes the bereaved to overcome his grief in order to once again be a functioning member of society. Mott is the self-deception that society utilizes to prevent proper grieving or respect for the deceased. Mott tries to convince Alan that Alice is still alive in order to con him into producing more. Tom Zane is the experience sage who has gone through the grieving process and wishes to help young Alan accept fate. He has endured the mania and come out enlightened. The space suit and the seemingly god-like powers derive from his ability to accept things for what they are rather than struggle uselessly agains them. He is the only character who truly understands Alan's position and he brings Alan through the process. Catherine Jagger is the lost loved one whom Zane has bereaved and whom the rest of the town has tried to ignore with more or less success. Cynthia Weaver was personally affected by Jagger's death and never overcame the psychosis she felt because of it. To this day, she frets and devotes an absurd amount of time to personal safety to the extent that she is unable to function in society. The brothers, Tor and Odin represent religion: they are old characters who represent even older gods and are instrumental in helping Alan come to peace with death. However, Alan is unable to find complete respite within their ways and continues his journey even after finding them.
The clicker represents the ability to accept one's fate. The clicker appears early on as a device to help Alice not fear the dark (death) as well as a device for young Alan to not fear it. At the end of the game, the clicker has the dual ability to both dispel the dark and thus clear Alan's mind so as to not be overwhelmed by his psychosis, as well as to defeat the darkness and ultimately allow Alan to come to final peace with death. The clicker is given to him by Spaceman Tom, further proof that Tom is a kindly sage.
Finally, the lake is the ultimate thing that Alan must come to grips with. The lake seemingly represents the cause of Alice's death, but in reality, it represents the distance between the living and the dead. The lake supposedly is the source of the darkness, and thereby the source of death as well as the central locus of the dead. In short, the lake represents the afterlife. Alan has convinced himself that if he can just make it to the lake, he will be able to bring his wife back from the depths and everything will be ok. In the end, Alan himself plunges into the lake in order to reunite with his wife. While the ending is somewhat ambiguous and possibly suggests that Alan himself is dead, his final sentence is the most telling. Alan realizes the ultimate truth that death is final and there is no crossing over. "The lake is an ocean."

Reading Two: Alan Wake is battling subconscious phobias
While this version of understanding the game has fewer intricate details and does not have as much depth to it, it certainly seems more obvious. The game begins with Alan fighting the darkness in a nightmare. The nightmare itself has most of the same characteristics of much of the gameplay of Alan Wake. He is fighting shadowy figures, he is chased by a storm of tangible darkness, he must use light to fight the dark and he is guided by the voice of Spaceman Tom.
There is plenty more to be said about the game in this aspect. Much of the dialogue of the game revolves around the notion of dreams. Toward the end of the game, as Alan makes his way to Cauldron Lake for the final time, he mentions that he "was only following the logic of a dream." Furthermore, many of the story elements only make sense as dream elements: his worst fear, losing his wife to some unknown force, comes true; he gets a ransom call for her from someone who actually does not know where she is; he and his wife are on vacation on the other side of the country and somehow his best friend comes and visits him; he is chased by an FBI agent though he has no idea why; the cabin he was sleeping in the first night disappears; he defeats some insurmountable evil with a light switch; and finally, even thought the world seems to be falling apart around him, most people do not seem to notice. Furthermore, the final words heard in the game are the voice of Alice saying "Alan, wake up!" If this is not enough to be convinced, the game is called Alan Wake, that is, A. Wake.
Like any psychoanalytical philosophy, the psychology of the dream reveals truths about the reality of the character. Wake is mostly afraid of losing his wife and being unable to get her back. He is also afraid that he might go crazy and his best friends would be unable to do anything but try to offer sympathy. He has great admiration for the writers who came before him, as manifested in the way he frequently references Stephen King and sees Thomas Zane as his savior. As a city dweller, he also has an inherent fear of rural peoples, as all the Taken end up being stereotypes of rural inhabitants. He distrusts psychology and thinks that doctors all have ulterior motives to helping their patients. Furthermore, as manifested in the way Rose is portrayed, he sees fans as a sort of nuisance. He also has a sort of attraction to the rock n roll lifestyle, though, based on the age of Odin and Tor, I would guess that this is an obsession he had many years ago or else is simply a lifestyle he admires but sees as too archaic.
Ultimately, he finds himself encircled about by all the things that he fears, and he must decide to either become a recluse and a prisoner to his fear like Cynthia Weaver or else finally overcome his greatest fears. In the end, he will "take the plunge" into the lake that represents his fears and face them head on. The strange sequence that follows is him drawing on the strength of his idol, Spaceman Tom, in order to finally conquer his greatest fear.
The game, then, is a psychological exploration of fear, of friendship and love and of trying to maintain control in what seems like a mad world. The way the characters are represented is representative of the way in which Alan Wake views them--that is, they're hyperboles of real people. Barry is obnoxious, Nightingale is a drunken idiot, Spaceman Tom is nearly a god, Catherine Jagger is an evil witch, Rose is a mindless fool, Hartmann is a conniving trickster, the brothers are clearly insane, and Cynthia Weaver is paranoid. This is life through the eyes of Alan Wake.

The Christology of Chrono Trigger

The orthodox reader is probably absolutely upset at the title of this post. It is my hope, though, to show the reader that the character Crono in the game Chrono Trigger is a Christ-figure, and, though this is not Christology per se, an allegorical understanding of the story of Chrono Trigger reveals a deeper theological message than the skeptical critic might admit.
The character of Chrono is like many other main characters within role playing games (RPGs). He starts out as being a mere nobody and eventually becomes the magnificent hero of the world. Game designers utilize this technique for two reasons: 1) it makes a decent set-up for a moving story line. Stories are much better when the hero of the tale is the underdog. Think of Lord of the Rings with Frodo or Star Wars with Luke. Though both characters have legendary destinies, they begin the story as rural peasants. 2) It allows the player to identify more with the character. For this reason, many games leave the protagonist silent so that the player can imagine providing his own dialogue. This tactic works so well that it has been used from the very earliest Zelda games until even recently in the Fallout games.
The rest of the game follows a fairly systemic RPG pattern with the story being revealed along the way of battling minions, henchmen and bosses and eventually the world-destroying final boss. Chrono Trigger is unique among RPGs because of its heavy usage of time traveling. Fans of the game, however, enjoy the nuanced plot which develops each and every (playable) character so that we feel as if we know them. The exception, of course, is Crono.
Without further ado, then I shall make my case for why this silent, seemingly stock-copied protagonist is a Christ figure. I shall do so in the first place in a Thomistic fashion by addressing contrary arguments and then following these up with my own arguments for my case.
In the first place, Crono, is a silent character. As the theologically-minded reader will no-doubt contend, we know Jesus primarily through his words. How, then, can a figure who says nothing at all throughout the game, save one line in one of the secondary endings, be a Christ figure?
To address this question, I respond that, in the first place, leaving Chrono silent allows the reader to make the connection to Jesus. Were Crono a wise-talking character like Gex or even a mostly silent character like Cloud, the reader would no doubt have formed a concrete understanding of the character of Crono. Leaving Crono silent allows the player some interpretive license, which allows the player to understand Crono in many different ways, much as Jesus is in contemporary theological thought.
Furthermore, Crono most often communicates through his actions. Many of the main missions involve feeding the poor (in 2300 AD), saving others (600 AD) and fighting evil. Many of the side missions in the future also are focused on good works, such as reforesting the desert in 600 AD, exorcising troubled ghosts in 600 AD, restoring families and even healing the crippled ~1000 AD. There are also many moral options available throughout the game that include uniting a little girl with her cat, freeing a wrongly-imprisoned young man and healing the relationship between two feuding brothers. 10 years before games started implementing morality as an essential feature of play, Chrono Trigger was allowing players to make moral decisions that had no Karma effects (but did often have some sort of reward attached to them). In other words, the character of Crono opposes the wicked, heals the wounded, feeds the hungry, and liberates the oppressed.
Secondly, Crono is not ever given divine status. He is, after all, just a regular child at the beginning of the game whose mother lectures him for being lazy. At no point is he ever defined as some great son of a god or even a messiah prophesied eons ago.
This, at first seems true. However, I should contend that, in the first place, we have no idea what Crono's lineage is. We only ever see his mother, and never his father (though both Lucca and Marle's parentage is explained). We are not even given some sort of stock answer such as "Crono's father is dead" or "Crono's father moved away." The mystery of Crono's father is just as mysterious as that of the protagonist of Pokemon.
Furthermore, as I shall explain below in my contentions for Crono's representation as a Christ figure, he does exhibit many features of a messianic character. But chief among these is how overpowered he is. Crono's attack is stronger than Frog's and his best technique (Luminare) is more powerful than anything Magus possesses. He also has high speed, high defense and the best weapon (the Rainbow). Furthermore, while Marle has the power to restore life, only Crono wields the ability to restore life with all hitpoints. That's correct, Crono has the power to resurrect his friends as well as deal more damage to enemies than any other character. Nearly every triple tech involves Crono and most double techs do as well. In short, Crono is the closest thing to a god in the game.
This leads to our third argument. Jesus advocated peace and worked through preaching and performing miracles to bring peace. Crono, on the other hand, seems to mostly slice his way to justice, leaving behind him a trail of (well, enemies disappear when they're defeated in Chrono Trigger so it's inappropriate to say a trail of bodies).
This is actually a good argument. However, very few gamers would play a game where the main character goes around casting demons out of enemies instead of attacking them. Here I would once again mention Crono's "Life 2" ability as well as other techniques such as "Aura whirl" wherein he heals rather than attacks, but I think it's safe to say that, for the most part, we should not be confusing Crono with a pacifist anytime soon. My one response is to say that as an RPG, fighting enemies is a necessary condition of the game and, the defeat of evil enemies is metaphorical for the defeat of evil.
Now, for my arguments for Crono's status as a Christ figure. In the first place, Crono is wrongly sentenced to death. After rescuing Princess Marle from 600 AD and restoring the timeline, Crono is tried for kidnapping and treason and imprisoned and, afterward, wrongly sentenced to die in three days. The player can affect the voting of the jury before hand by committing only good deeds in the fairgrounds in which case the king will put Crono in jail simply in order to hold him there for a few days. If the player does everything wrongly, Crono will be convicted of kidnapping, though at no point does he ever actually kidnap the Princess. Anybody who has read the Gospels will recall that Jesus is wrongly tried, and though the ruling politician finds no fault in him, is sentenced to die.
Secondly, Crono exhibits many messianic qualities. For one thing, he is able to seemingly unite peoples from many different times and lands to rally them against evil. For another thing, though there is no prediction of Crono's involvement in history, the game subtly suggests that history could not have happened without Crono. The Massamune, for example, the legendary sword, is created by Crono thrusting a red knife into the Mammon Machine. The evolution of humanity as well depends on Crono helping Ayla defeat the Reptites. Even the defeat of Magus depends upon Crono. Though some events, such as defeating Lavos and rescuing Marle, seem to be altered according to Crono's involvement with the time stream, many of the other story events of the game suggest that Crono had to be involved otherwise they would not have happened. Thus, though there are no "prophecies" or predictions of Crono's messianic role, his meddling is a necessary function of the history of the planet in Chrono Trigger.
Third, Crono dies and is resurrected. That's right, just like Aeris in Final Fantasy VII, one of the main story events is Crono's death. The player, of course, has the option to leave Crono dead and finish the game, but the storyline of the game directs the player to complete the mission wherein Crono will be resurrected. And, of course, as if Crono's messianic role was not yet clear enough, Gaspar, the guru of time, when explaining how Crono will be brought back from the dead informs the player that Crono must be necessary for the flow of time. That's right, not only does the game encourage you to revive your dead leader, but suggests that his role is necessary in the game. Then, to top this all off, when Crono is resurrected, the scene presented is one of apocalyptic and Biblical significance. The sun becomes darkened and Crono appears, arm stretched out cruciform. If this is not evidence for Crono's Christological semblance, I don't know what is.
But, to finish this all off, there is the plain fact of the metaphor of the battle against Lavos. Lavos clearly represents sin. Lavos falls to the earth when humans begin to become dominant (in fact, in the very moment that the Reptites are defeated). Lavos threatens to destroy the planet and his arrival is the arrival of original sin in the human condition. Throughout time, the evil have ties to Lavos (the Hechran, Queen Zeal and mistakenly Magus) and when the world is destroyed, it is because of Lavos. Furthermore, Chrono Cross corroborates this interpretation by explaining that humanity's evolution was caused by Lavos and that we are the spawn of Lavos (original sin taints us). Crono's entire mission, however, is to do battle against Lavos. Crono dies at the hand of Lavos (as Christ dies because of sin) but is resurrected and defeats Lavos, liberating humanity from its awful threat. When Lavos is destroyed, the screen turns white and Crono's silhouette can be seen, once again cruciform. Crono is the one who overcomes death and sin (read Lavos) and saves humanity.
There are other interesting parallels to be drawn between the person of Jesus and Crono (the recruitment of disiciples for one) and other interesting theological parallels to be drawn from other characters in Chrono Trigger (might Magus be a Pauline figure?). Suffice it to say for now, however, that the figure of Crono represents the figure of Christ and the story of Chrono Trigger is therefore an allegory for the story of salvation history.

Shadow Magic--A theory of technological advancement in Chrono Trigger

Those familiar with the game Chrono Trigger (who have at least played through once) will recall that most of the main characters are able to utilize magic. This is not to say that all playable characters can, but only that most can. The essential characters who do utilize magic are Chrono, Lucca, Marle and Frog. Ayla cannot use magic. Robo cannot, though Spekio says that he can do "shadow type damage."
The reader might now object, "What about Magus?" Ah, yes, I failed to mention him only because he is not an essential playable character--one can get through the game without adding him to his party or can even kill Magus instead. But I also left Magus out because he is the crux of my thesis here--in the world of Chrono Trigger, shadow magic is the pinnacle of technological advancement, while lower forms of magic, or even the absence of magic, demonstrate primitive natures.
Arthur C Clarke has famously said that "any technology sufficiently advanced is indistinguishable from magic." In Crono's world, this is nearly the case. While Robo is potentially the most technologically advanced creature Crono comes across, it is plainly stated that he does not possess magic. However, in the profiles in the options menu, where the other characters have their magic specialty listed (such as lightning, fire, water), Robo has "shadow," the same as Magus' listing. Furthermore, whereas Ayla, the only other character to not possess magic, utilizes mostly brute force in her techniques, Robo often performs attacks that are similar to the other characters (read: proximity bomb, shock, healing ray, etc).
Furthermore, if we consider Magus' move lists, we realize that his magic is far more advanced and powerful than any other character's. When the player first encounters Magus, it takes three characters to take him on, and each has to have a different type of magic. Even still, instead of finishing him off outright, they only distract him long enough for Lavos to appear. When Magus finally joins the party later in the game, he is significantly weaker in power to when the player fought him, but he still possesses advanced versions of each of the other character's magic abilities (lightning 2, fire 2, ice 2, water 2). What this tells us is that somehow shadow magic incorporates the other types of magic. Whereas Crono, Marle, Lucca and Frog are only able to learn one type of magic, Magus, the shadow mage, is able to learn all of their types of magic, but chooses to specialize in shadow, which is more powerful.
In fact, Magus has more powerful magic attacks than perhaps Crono (Luminaire is a very powerful attack, but that's the only one). Crono is automatically a better character because he is the main character, but Magus is much more magically proficient than any other character.
What is also worth noticing is that the other magic attacks are very elemental while shadow attacks tend to be more scientifically based. The other characters use the basic elements: fire, water, and lightning and usually do not deviate from this style. Granted, they learn new tricks that sometimes include bombs or healing, but for the most part, they are focused on the basic. Shadow magic, on the other hand, has techniques with names such as "dark matter" and "black hole," terms which specifically belong to the scientific realm (more specifically astronomy). Conjuring lightning may be a neat trick, but summoning a black hole to swallow up your enemies is even greater.
But even more than this, magic in the Chrono Trigger world represents basic technological advancement. The opposite of this is brute force. The more technologically advanced characters, I will argue, are Magus, Robo and Lucca. Lucca does not possess shadow magic, but she does have many powerful techniques (flare, for one) and her weapons are generally pretty useless. On the other hand, the more primal characters are Ayla, Frog and Crono. Ayla and Frog are both more ancient. Crono, though contemporary, utilizes more primitive tactics. For one thing, all three of these characters have the most powerful attacks in the game. Furthermore, Ayla has no magic abilities, and Frog's tend to be weaker. Crono has fairly powerful abilities, but that might have to do with his status as a modern character as well as his status as the main character. But they also all utilize primitive weapons. Ayla uses her fists while Frog and Chrono use swords (though Lucca uses a gun and Marle uses a crossbow). These characters rely more on their physical strength than they do on their intellectual ability.
For the three most advanced characters, the argument is still fairly easy to see. Lucca is an inventor and is so technologically savvy that she is able to repair a robot from 1300 years in the future. Robo is the most futuristic character, hailing from 1300 years later than any other character. "But what about Magus?" the reader might be asking, "He is from 600 AD, the same time as Frog!! No way he is more technologically advanced!!" Well my naive hypothetical reader, you have to remember that Magus ended up in 600 AD. Originally he was from 12000 BC. "But that should make him more primitive!!" Here is where you are patently wrong.
See, Magus was born in the Kingdom of Zeal. And though the Kingdom of Zeal exists 13000 years previous to our contemporary characters, it exists nearly 65,000,000 years after Ayla's time. Remember, in Ayla's time period humans became the dominant species on the planet (according to Chrono Cross, Lavos made us evolve). Given that Ayla's people had already mastered using fire and some husbandry (taming the dactyl), one can only imagine how much they could achieve in a few million years. By the time we arrive in the Kingdom of Zeal, we get an idea of how much they evolved. Every denizen of Zeal possesses the ability to use magic. The kingdom itself floats in the sky. They have great airplanes and what looks like transporter beams. They build a fortress under the sea. These people are incredibly advanced. In fact, the people of Zeal are so technologically advanced that Queen Zeal builds a machine in order to harvest the energy of Lavos, an alien creature that has been buried under the earth for nearly 65,000,000 years.
Then, of course, the reader will recall that the hybris of the queen led to the ultimate demise of the Kingdom of Zeal and the entire world had to suffer through a terrible ice age. Most of the scientific knowledge of the time was lost, though the tree gurus (Gaspar, Melchior and Balthazar) ended up being transported into different times. That's right, the Kingdom of Zeal had sufficient technology to completely screw with the time flow. Thus, Magus ends up in 600 AD, Melchior ends up in 1000 AD, Balthazar ends up in 2300 AD and Gaspar (the time guru) ends up in...the end of time? More apocryphal sources (Chrono Trigger on PSX or Chrono Cross) will suggest that additionally, Schala ends up in some weird time paradox situation where she somehow both delivers a clone of herself to 1000 AD and ends up fuzed with Lavos to become the destroyer of time. Regardless, all this is to say that Zeal was an incredibly advanced civilization that suffered a terrible downfall.
Of course, some of the denizens of Zeal survived and because of this, the world did not have to slog through a few million years of scientific endeavors to become more advanced. By 600 AD the people were using armor and battling wizards, by 1000 AD they had guns and crossbows and by 2300 they had fully sentient androids and biodomes. However, shadow magic had all but disappeared. But we can see that as time goes by, the people are getting closer and closer to realizing it once again. The equippable item "blue rock," for example, allows the triple tech "Omega Flare" to be used, a technique which requires Magus, Robo and Lucca to accomplish.

This item is obtained from a Gnu, a strange species of creature that is often seen within the boundaries of Zeal. Though speculation on the exact nature of the Gnu and their scientific capabilities would be a fascinating study, it shall not be the focus of this examination. Suffice it to say that the "blue stone" is, perhaps, a relic of the former advanced technology of Zeal and requires highly advanced persons to utilize it. Magus and Robo, as I have explained, are clearly the most advanced, but perhaps Lucca is close to being able to use shadow magic. If the reader has played the sequel to Chrono Trigger, "Chrono Cross," he might recall that there are a few clones within the game. Guile is clearly somehow related to Magus in CT, and Luccia is clearly related to Lucca (though, to be fair, Lucca does appear in CC, as both a character in Kid's background story as well as one of the spirits of the CT characters who speak to Serge). In CC, though, Luccia has "black" type elements, the rough equivalent of "shadow magic" in CT. Perhaps this is a hint that Lucca eventually achieves the ability to utilize shadow magic for herself, not only with the use of the blue rock.
If my understanding of Shadow Magic and technological advancement is correct, a further examination of the other "lesser" magics would prove interesting as well. Is fire the most advanced of the elemental magics? Is ice somehow more advanced than simple water? Where does lightning fit in? It is the hope of this author that other scholars will take up these questions as well as questions about the use of elements in the Chrono Cross world.
To conclude, ladies and gentlemen, I should like to pose a question. Where are we on our technological journey? Have we even come close to realizing shadow magic yet?

Single-handedly causing inflation

Link is hated among Hylian elite for many reasons. Of course, in "A Link to the Past" we find him actually wanted by Hylian authorities for reportedly abducting Princess Zelda. However, the internet world has brought to our attention other crimes that Link has perpetrated against the good people of Hyrule here and here. Were the player a regular Hyrule citizen, and not someone possessing privileged information about the evil deeds of Ganon and the poor plight of the princess, it would be clear that this "Link" character is a man of ill repute and is an outlaw and a ne'er-do-well. However, the player does have privilege information, so we might forgive Link's deviant behavior for saving the world.
However, there is a real problem that Link's actions, though not directly his fault has caused. He is single-handedly wreaking havoc on Hyrule's economics. Let me explain:
As anyone who has played any Zelda game is aware, the primary currency of the Kingdom of Hyrule (as well as Termina and other kingdoms in the surrounding area) is the Rupee. While the games never quite explain what rupees are, they seem to be some kind of gem or gem-like coin (or something like that). Rather than having different Hylian monarchs or other historical figures on the currency (one might imagine different faces of Zelda from the original game on the NES to OoT to Twilight Princess), the different values are determined by the color alone of the rupee. Thus, a green rupee is worth one, a blue rupee is worth two, red is worth twenty, purple worth fifty, silver worth two hundred and gold is worth five hundred.
Rupees are used as any sort of currency is, Link purchases needed goods such as health potions, bombs, tunics, shields, etc. The player can invest them in the bank in Majora's Mask or attempt to make them buying and selling masks in Ocarina of Time.
However, if we assume that the rupee functions in Hylian economics the way that the dollar functions in American economics, we run into some problems. In the first place, it seems that rupees are only used to purchase goods. They are sometimes used to pay for services (such as sword sharpening in Majora's Mask), but usually not (when was the last time Link received a payment for ridding a dungeon of its hideous monster?) Mostly, rupees are used in specialty shops that sell shields, bombs, arrows and the like, or game galleries. Most other businesses do not seem to take rupees. This is peculiar because it suggests that rupees are not fully trusted by the Hylians.
However, it does seem that the Hylians' distrust is fully warranted. The player is well aware that rupees abound in Hyrule. Rupees can be found inside of many bushes, on the bottom of many streams, and underneath many rocks. In fact, the player usually finds that it is not that finding money is frustrating, but rather that the limitations placed on carrying amount are frustrating.
This leads to an interesting conundrum. If Hyrule's economy is truly dependent upon the rupee, then every time a new heroic Link shows up, the economy must end up being gravely affected. Consider the following. The player often finds rupees in bushes as he rides across the plains. The skilled player will also find many rupees in chests scattered across the kingdom and within dungeons. One must assume that the rupee is fairly strong, as shields usually only cost about 50 rupees apiece. Thus, when the player brings in literally thousands of rupees from outside of the cities, this must cause massive inflation. Since Link is finding these rupees in relatively obscure and dangerous locations, it is safe to assume that they are not in regulation. However, since the Kingdom of Hyrule is so unpopulated, and since prices are so cheap, one may safely assume that the kingdom is operating with only a few thousand rupees in regulation. The introduction, then of the possibly tens of thousands of rupees that Link comes across in his travels ought to cause high inflation rates.
The point is made most poignantly in Majora's Mask. In this game, the player is limited by the fact that his time is limited to three days, and thus he keeps going back in time to relive these three days (like Groundhog Day, Zelda style). Because some items cost large amounts of money and Link's wallet is extremely limited in the beginning, the player is able to deposit rupees in Termina's Bank. Enter Zelda's permissible fraud solution. Since it would suck to have to go back and find all of the rupees that you lost over and over again, the bank simply keeps track of how much money you have deposited and, rather than keep some kind of record, the banker makes some sort of mark on you that tells him how much money you have deposited. This mark stays with you when you go back in time, so that after you've deposited 500 rupees into the bank, when you go back to the first day, those rupees are still there. The problem is that the real money is still out in the world. There are 100 rupee treasure chests that the player can find in town and open each time he resets the clock and deposited each of these into the bank. Eventually, the player can max out at 5499 rupees, and have none of them actually in the bank. That's right, the player can fraud the bank by depositing rupees through various time travel exploits and in the end, he can have all the rupees in his wallet but still counted in the bank. The bank only limits you because they don't have any more funds. You end up destroying the economy because your "account" (read: the mark on your head, since the banker does not keep any real records) states that all the money in the bank belongs to you. Meanwhile, you are going out using the hookshot to get to the chest with the silver rupee in it, a silver rupee supposedly in the bank, on top of the game shop.
This is the kind of thing that would ruin lives normally. A man would go to the bank in Termina to find out that all of his hard earned rupees, which in reality are in the bank, supposedly belong to a 12 year old Kokiri kid. Shop owners throughout Hyrule would have to increase prices in order to combat the unforeseen influx of rupees that Link usually brings with him, all the while the common Hylians do not possess any more money than they began with. Were rupees the only method of trade in Hyrule, Link would quickly become a tycoon, especially with his ability to find large quantities of rupees and introduce them into the economy.
However, the games tell us that rupees are not the main form of trade. In fact, it seems that most often, Hylians prefer bartering to using rupees. One cannot procure land deeds with rupees (Majora's Mask), nor usually something as simple as a bottle, but one can obtain many useful items (such as the Big Goron's Sword, or heart containers) by trades and performing services for others. In fact, the Hylian rupees are limited to specialty shops, game galleries and strange types of armor (Twilight Princess), but the traditional bartering system goes so much further. Hylians trade everything from mushrooms to special milk to fish to eyeballs to masks to gold dust to ghosts. Villagers and artisans prefer to trade goods with Link for services rendered (such as finding a lost sister to finding various insects). Link never earns rupees for his work (but he does find them in his work) and he only ever is able to procure rupees through trade when it is for very specific items (such as masks or gold dust). Thus, while Link is able to utilize rupees, he is much more likely to receive some other good for his work.
So, if you plan on traveling to beautiful Hyrule anytime soon, it might be worth your time to take along your Goron's wallet with a few silver rupees in it, but keep in mind that if you want anything aside from a good time at the bombchu bowling alley, or a blue tunic, you might want to take a bottle or some magic beans with you instead--they'll probably get you further anyway.

The Star Wars series under the Historical-Critical model of interpretation (Exegesis from the year 3000)

Up until now, most scholars have taken it for granted that the Star Wars saga came from a single source. Tradition has always held that one man, George Lucas, wrote the Star Wars movies. People for nearly a millennium (according to the popularly held theory that the corpus was filmed sometime in the late 20th to early 21st centuries) have viewed the films from episode I, The Phantom Menace, through episode VI, Return of the Jedi, and considered it a coherent body. In fact, the very term "sextateuch" refers to the six episodes as being the main work of George Lucas, with the Indiana Jones being a separate body written by him, or perhaps a "Pseudo-Lucas," or a follower of Lucas. It is my contention, however, that if we view the movies from the Historical-Critical method, we realize that they are not one coherent body.

As currently understood, the movies go something like this: Episode I chronicles the story of how boy Anakin Skywalker started his jedi training. In Episode II we find Anakin well into his training and the Clone Wars begins. Episode III concludes the Clone Wars, and Anakin first becomes a jedi master, then a sith lord and the Old Republic becomes the Galactic Empire. Episode IV finishes the tale of Obi-Wan Kenobi, Anakin's mentor who dies at his hand, and the story of how Luke Skywalker, Anakin's son, helps a guerilla faction of rebels to fight against the Galactic Empire. In Episode V, Luke begins training as a jedi, has a duel with his father, and many of the rebel leaders go into hiding. Episode VI concludes the story with the rebels regaining their strength, defeating the Galactic Empire and Luke defeats his father, but not before his father is able to return to the good. This is a very crass and basic summary of what would take a person the better part of a day to watch.

I believe that the films are now viewed as a comprehensive whole, but my research and scholarship suggests that this was not the way many of them were intended to be made. Consider the following: Episodes I-III chronicle the rapid ascent to power and fall of Anakin Skywalker, but Episodes IV-VI focus primarily on Luke Skywalker and the rebel alliance with the name "Anakin Skywalker" rarely mentioned. This basic distinction led me to suspect that the first three episodes were not written at the same time as the last three. The following explanation will help elucidate my point, I hope.

Many of the planets mentioned in the first three movies are never mentioned again in the last three. For example, Naboo, Coruscant, Mustafar and Kashyyyk all play prominent roles in the first three movies but the action in IV-VI takes place on Tatooine, Yavin IV, Hoth, Bespin, Tatooine again and Endor. Naboo and Coruscant play important parts in the first three movies, being featured in all three of them, but the only planet that remains intact through the series is Tatooine, the birthplace of Anakin Skywalker and the home of the young Luke Skywalker. One has to wonder why the planet Coruscant, so significant in the first three is absolutely absent in the last three.

This information, tied with the fact that the emperor makes his throne the death star, and not the capital of Coruscant in the last movies suggests that they were actually written first, and the importance of Coruscant was a later redaction. This supports the odd fact that other scholars have pointed out in that the story of Luke focuses on a period of probably no more than five years, all from his late teen to mid-twenties. The story of Anakin, however, starts from when he's a prepubescent boy and stretches across a longer gap till he is in his mid-twenties. It also explains why the narrative action is so different--The Phantom Menace through Revenge of the Sith shows the rise and fall of Anakin, while A New Hope through Return of the Jedi shows only the rise of Luke. Furthermore, the setting of I-III is a galactic republic, torn by inner-strife while IV-VI suggests none of the old struggle and only presents a polemic against the empire.

It is also worthy of note to see the incredible gap of time between episodes III and IV. The end of Revenge of the Sith is the birth of Luke and Leia and A New Hope begins while Luke is in his late teens. This constitutes the biggest time gap between episodes and suggests that that they were not originally written together.

It may be argued that since A New Hope, Empire Strikes Back and Return of the Jedi inclusively are explicitly subtitled Episode IV, Episode V, and Episode VI respectively that these titles must have been written after the first three. The argument here is that nobody would rationally begin a story midway through. This is a very reasonable objection. My response is that there are two possible explanations that hold true to my theory. Either the subtitles "Episode (number)" were inserted at a later date by a redactor or else there was an original first trilogy that was somehow lost and replaced by the the versions we know today. This seems suspect since most people agree that George Lucas was the writer of the entire sextateuch and that the first three are just as much his as the last three. This leads me to my next point.

Scholars in the field of Indiana Jones research are divided about the authorship of the films. Some argue that the same Lucas who directed Star Wars also directed Indiana Jones. Others argue that it was a student of his, or that both were written by students in the school of Lucas. However, recently many scholars have returned to the argument that it is the same director. There is up-and-coming scholarship, however, that argues that only the first three were directed by Lucas and that the fourth was directed by a student of Lucas'. The argument for this lies in the fact that the narrative is radically different than the original three. A lengthy discussion on Indiana Jones' exegesis would take to long, but suffice to say that Indiana Jones movies have a different female love interest, a different terrestrial (usually Biblical) artifact and generally involve NAZIs. The fourth film features the return of one of the women, Soviets, and an extra-terrestrial artifact as well as poorly written comedic elements and far-fetched supernatural experiences. Some scholars have also argued that Temple of Doom was written by a different director, but rather for the sake of this paper we will side with those who argue that only the fourth is of foreign origin.

Similarly, the first three movies Star Wars movies are not as true to narrative of the last three. To begin with, Phantom Menace contains a major character called "Jar-Jar Binks," a character whose importance is marginal and only serves as a foil for primitive humor. Additionally, the jedi in the last three movies are extremely concerned about discipline and caution while the jedi in the first three seem foolhardy and rash, often rushing into traps and lacking the foresight that Luke would eventually have as well as Obi-Wan Kenobi and Yoda. Similarly, the love story between Han and Leia is one that slowly blossoms and presents their love as lasting while the love story between Anakin and Padme is based on passion and seems fleeting. Finally, we are given a much different view of evil between the two trilogies. In the first trilogy, evil is confusing, marginal and seen as almost a myth. In the last trilogy, evil is the dominating power of the universe and good is the underdog power rising up from the depths. In this way, the story in the first three episodes suggests it was written as a sort of preemptive warning against the dangers of the wrong use of power while the last three seem to have been written as a sort of polemic against the reigning power, a call to revolution, as it were. Thus, based on the differences of characters, tones, moods, themes and even genres, I contend that they were written by different directors.

This explains, then, why there are incongruities within the narrative. For example, in A New Hope and the proceeding episodes, characters frequently refer to Darth Vader's genocidal campaign against the jedi, in which her personally killed them all off. However, in Revenge of the Sith we see Anakin, not yet Darth Vader formally, kill only a few jedi, with the majority of them slaughtered by mere clone troopers. Additionally, Padme, who is a central figure in the first three and the object of obsession for Anakin Skywalker is never mentioned, even in passing, in the last three films. Additionally, at the end of Revenge of the Sith, all trace of Darth Vader's former life is erased from public memory, including the android C-3PO's memory bank and several high ranking officials are sworn to secrecy. However, the characters R2-D2 and Chewbacca, important characters in the first three movies are not sworn to secrecy or in any other way forbidden from sharing knowledge yet seem absolutely clueless about the reality of the Darth Vader and the rise of the Galactic Empire. Some scholars have suggested that they function as secret agents, but considering this is never implied in the films it seems mostly to be an attempt to make sense of the incongruities.

Finally, it is my argument that the first three episodes were written to provide a background for the last three. The last three movies can function independently as a narrative, though the existence of the Galactic Empire and how Darth Vader is Luke's father is obscured in the details. The first three films may almost comprise a whole, however, Episode III makes most sense when viewed in relation to the greater corpus of the work. Thus, it is my contention that Episode III is primarily a narrative bridge, explaining how Anakin Skywalker, who was a rising jedi knight, became a powerful sith lord, had children, and became enclosed in his body-armor suit, as well as how the Old Republic became the Galactic Empire, how the jedi were exterminated, and how Padme died. In short, Episode III only serves to explain how Episode II transitions into Episode IV. For this reason, and I believe this is where my point is strongest, I believe that the latter 3 episodes were the original creation and the first three were written at a later point with the climax of Episode III serving only as a narrative device to join the two narratives.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I pray that my scholarship into Star Wars exegesis proves at least interesting to you. Many today wonder why we should care about a series of movies from 1000 years ago that claim to bet chronicling events even older than that, however, I feel that Star Wars is still applicable today. I hope that my research will only prompt others to follow-up on this to help explain the mystery of this corpus.

Why the Star Wars saga is incomparable in goodness to the Star Trek series (a polemic)

In the first place, be it known that the Star Wars saga is inferior for its wanton destruction of non-human peoples. The Wookies on Kashyyk, the Ewoks on Endor, the Tusken Raiders on Tatooine, the Gungans on Naboo and more are caught up, often times in battles in which they themselves have nothing invested, for the sake of the gratification of the main characters. The only human instance of any sort of genocide is the destruction of Alderaan in A New Hope, in which case we can only suppose that the planet was mostly humans, since we never see the people on the planet, whereas with the deaths of the races mentioned above, we are given prime view to the massacres unfolding upon the people.

Human characters make up the greater part of the main characters, yet they somehow are able to avoid dying as much as possible. Characters such as Obi-Wan Kenobi, Anakin Skywalker, Luke Skywalker, and Padme Amidala are all able to manipulate the other species much the way that the gods of the Greek pantheon manipulated humans, often putting them in danger, often killing them wholesale, all for their own personal whims and their own personal battles. The peoples of the Ewoks, Tusken Raiders, and Gungans have nothing to do with the so-called "bad guys" but somehow find themselves inthe middle of the conflict. Anakin slays a whole tribe of Tusken Raiders to avenge his mother, Padme convinces the less intelligent Gungans that the Trade Federation will kill them all, and Luke uses the Ewoks' superstition to demand tribute in the form of battle.

One might say, what of the countless hordes of the Trade Federation or the Imperial armies that die? In the first place, George Lucas has gone to great extent for us to not even think of these armies as human. The Trade Federation army consists of soulless robots. We feel nothing for them since they are not even characters. The storm troopers are even more protected. In the first place, they wear body armor that prevents us from seeing their faces and recognizing that they are, in fact people. Secondly, they are clones, so the argument can be made (and is certainly a theme in Star Wars) that they aren't really people either.

Couple this idea with the fact that even the main villains (Darth Sidious and Darth Vader, respectively) of the entire series are distorted in appearance. Darth Vader wears a suit that, like the storm troopers, distorts his countenance to looking more like a robot than a person. Darth Sidious is veiled in shadows through the entire series and when we finally see his face in Return of the Jedi, his eyes are yellow and his face unattractive. On the other hand, Han Solo, Luke Skywalker, Anakin Skywalker, Padme Amidala, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Mace Windu, Leia Organa, and Lando Calrisian are all humans. Therefore, George Lucas illustrates a heavily biased look at which lives are valuable, namely those of the human main characters and those that are not, namely almost anybody else, illustrating a sort of xenophobia.

In the second case, it is also clear that George Lucas lets his own personal biases and racism develop the plot for him. Many of the characters which the audience finds detestable are charicatures of minorities. Consider, for example, the Neimoidians of Trade Federation fame. With their distinctly Easter Asian accents, their slanted and squinted eyes and other physical features, it is almost certain that George Lucas is portraying them as an almost Soviet-Union era portrait of Eastern Asians.Similarly, the character of Watto appears to be an anti-Semitic character. The Gungans and the Jawas are clearly sterotypes of minorities as well.

Furthermore, all of the main characters with a couple notable exceptions, who get anything done, are white humans. Even Chewbacca and the 2 droids, who are main characters, have very little necesary function, and, in fact, only work in correllation with the other characters toward their main goal. The first African-American to be portrayed (note: James Earl Jones does the voice of Darth Vader, but not the face nor the costume) in the films is depicted as being a smooth-talking double crosser who sales his friend out and flirts with his girlfriend. He is redeemed in Return of the Jedi, but Lando's portrayal in Empire Strikes Back is nothing less than racist.

Yoda, being a short, green alien, is the only notable exception to the rule of white human supremacy in Star Wars.However, even though he is often a dynamic character, in the original three films, Yoda never speaks syntactically correct English, lies to Luke about his identity, is never involved in the action and is ignored by Luke when he warns Luke of impending doom. So, while Yoda may seem to be the exception to the rule, this is only in the newer films. Similarly, in the three newer films, we are given an African-American character that we can both honor and respect in Mace Windu, but we are not given a pleasant impression of him as he is very critical of the adorable, young, white Anakin Skywalker.

On the other hand, Star Trek has always maintained a record of being neither Xenophobic nor racist. In The Original Series, for instance, the alien race of Klingons and Romulans are often portrayed as being enemies. However, one must also note that the alien species of the Vulcans, who are ethnically related to the Romulans, are seen as being allied to the human species. Furthermore, in The Next Generation, the long-standing animosity between Klingons and humans is all gone.

Furthermore, the United Federation of Planets does not actively invade other planets (as per the Prime Directive) in order to enlist the help of the natives, nor does it actively seek combat with its so-called "enemies" (as per the establishments of neutral zones). Rather, the Federation, as shown in the series and the movies, seeks to bring peace and enter into positive diplomatic relations with other peoples (most notably in The Undiscovered Country, Insurrection, and Star Trek). Never does the Federation try to sway superstitious peoples nor do they try to coerce people. Rather, once a species has attained sufficient scientific advancment (ie faster than light travel) the Federation contacts them for treaty negotiations, thus following a method that is neither xenophobic, nor human dominated.

The Star Trek series and movies have also always been proactive in fighting racism. Take, for example, the Original Series, which started in the 1960s, during a time when Equal Rights and the Soviet Union were both hot-button issues. Uhura, the communications officer, was an African-American woman, and Chekov, the chief engineer, was Russian. These roles were innovative and very forward thinking for the time. Furthermore, the cast included Sulu, the Asian pilot; Scotty, the Scottish transporter operator; and Spock, the Vulcan (an alien race) science officer.

Furthermore, the following series, the Next Generation, which aired in the 1980s included officers from all different walks of life. Warf was a Klingon, Geordi LaForge was an African-American who was blind, Data was an android and DeAnna Troy was a Betazoid, another alien species. The next few series, Deep Space 9 and Voyager, continued the tradition with Black Vulcans, Changelings, genetically engineered humans, Ferangi, holograms, etc.

My third argument against Star Wars is the mockery of Catholicism. The Force, as you may or may not know, is some kind of metaphor for the clergy of the Catholic Church. Thus, you have Jedi (a Latin-looking word) apprentices, knights, and masters, as you have deacons, priests and bishops. The Jedi Council is some kind of parallel to the Magisterium, and, like priests, the Jedi are forbidden to marry. How often has a character said the phrase, "The Force be with you," and one among you responds, "And also with you." Furthermore, there is Anakin Skywalker, "The Chosen One," born with no corporeal father, destined to bring balance to the Force and most certainly a Christ figure in this regard.

However, this is not an homage. It is mockery. Consider, for instance, the fact that there are no lay "Force" followers. It is all made up of clergy. Furthermore, Gran Moff Tarkin refers to it as "an ancient and superstitious religion." There is no doctrine, no dogma, no scripture to base their faith on either. All Jedi simply meditate on the Force and this is what makes them Jedi. What are we to make of the fact that all the Jedi are killed? Is this the way to pay respect for a people, to insinuate that all their kind will be massacred, by their savior, no less? And what is the Force but "midichlorians?" God is reduced to a microscopic organism in the Star Wars movies, and its followers simply meditate on it and do nothing to spread good tidings or practice any kind of righteous living. In fact, the function of Jedi, it seems, are to be Paladin, to fight in the name of this apparently God-like force, though they have no doctrine, no creed and no standard. What's worse is their virtues. The way of the Jedi is not to bring truth and justice. It is to move heavy objects, jump tall heights and deceive people into believing lies. These are the people that we're supposed to revere? Liars and charlatans? What does Lucas mean by portraying clergy this way?

Furthermore, Lucas takes the theology of the Force into a very Manichean direction by giving it dualism. There is a Dark Side and a Light Side to it. God is both good and bad, but we're to believe we want to be on the good side. Furthermore, rather than convincing us that the Light Side is to be desired, Lucas muddies the waters. The savior, the "Chosen One" (Messiah in Hebrew, Christos in Greek) turns to the Dark Side and kills the majority of clergy on the Light Side. The only one who escapes is Yoda. He even kills Obi-Wan, his former master and instructor. At the end of the movies, the only living Jedi adherent is Luke Skywalker, who, in a very short amount of time, went from being ignorant about the Force to being able to overpower Darth Vader, the Chose One, who, it might be added, is also Luke's father, a violation of his vow of celibacy. If one likens our faith to the faith of the Star Wars movies, those who do not know our faith will be deceived into believing we stand for things that we do not.

"But," you might argue, "in Star Trek there is no faith. At least in Star Wars there is a religion." This is completely false. Many characters throughout the series and movies, of human, Vulcan, Klingon and other species, are shown practicing the religious customs of their cultures. Star Trek does not provide the basis for why any of these are right or wrong, but rather, it takes a more pluralstic stance. Yes, on might argue that a pluralistic stance is not favorable if we are seeking truth. However, I would argue a stance that provides the opportunity for our faith to be true is better than a stance that portrays our faith in the wrong light.

Finally, from an ethical perspective, Star Wars is worse in that it glorifies battle and devalues life. The heroes of Star Wars are the ones who are the best at killing. Luke kills countless storm troopers, causes his father's death, leads Ewoks to their death, kills animals such as the Rancor and the Hoth snow beast, slays many on the Skiff in Tatooine, and kills millions of people on board the Death Star, and yet we think of him as the hero. No one ever seeks to bring justice or reform to their enemies. Rather than seeking the humane, diplomatic approach, everyone seeks to kill off their nemeses. One might argue in the face of oppression fighting is necessary. I would argue, with Dorothy Day, Thomas Merton, Dietrich Boenhoffer and Franz Jagerstatter that the way of pacifism is the way to fight back.

Star Trek, on the other hand, reinforces the idea that people are reasonable, that given the chance, they would rather live than die, that enemies, even enemies of different species, are to be treated with respect, that life is precious and that peace is the primary mission.