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.
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Thursday, August 11, 2011
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 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.
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