INSPIRATION
For reasons probably best left unconsidered, I spent an evening a few months ago watching all three Iron Man movies in a row.
As the series passed between screenwriters and directors from sequel to sequel, I started noticing a subtle but palpable shift in the political subtext. I was suddenly struck by the notion that even the most spectacle-obsessed summer blockbusters had something to say beyond just the story beats of their plot. I wondered to myself about how much other subtext I (or others) might presume is unspoken in popular culture, and whether I would have even realized it without… well, spending six hours in a row watching Robert Downey Jr. get into jet-pack fistfights.
Then it occurred to me that the phenomenon is surely not isolated to film; potentially, the subtext of entire media—as an example, video games—was probably being left by the wayside.
That isn’t to say that there aren’t people who are attuned to and appreciative of the subtext found in video games, certainly. The problem is that those people are already deeply invested in games as a hobby, an industry, or both—when you’ve played forty hours of Hotline Miami, of course the ambient drone of the post-level egress is a meditation on post-homicidal guilt, obviously!
This subtext, however, isn’t always obvious to everyone who plays games. The truth is that as they gain social acceptance, games are progressively being played by… well, pretty much everyone, frankly. Play and deep consideration aren’t always linked, much in the same way that seeing a movie and appreciating its subtext aren’t always linked. For so many, video games are Angry Birds, they’re Candy Crush. They’re toys: simple, entertaining, and otherwise not substantive. Worse than that—even as this social acceptance grows—the medium of video games (for reasons both intrinsic and extrinsic) has yet to wholly cast off the stereotype that it’s something less than art: a violent, degenerate medium made by and for violent degenerates.
As game developers work to have their artistic output recognized alongside the work of filmmakers and authors, it seems to me that there’s something that the rest of us can do to elevate and publicize discourse about the very real—and sometimes very powerful!—subtext in video games.
So, I made a blog. Naturally!
AUDIENCE
Talk to the Monsters exists to help people not already inculcated in the messages and philosophies of video gaming realize that—first of all—such subtexts do indeed exist and are valuable. If you’re under the impression that games are simple toys or ultra-violent power fantasies (admittedly not a difficult impression to get!), this blog will be taking a careful look at games of all kinds to suss out what messages exist beyond the basic functions of play. While being more culturally aware is a noble end unto itself, understanding the subtext can also provide a potential connection between people who are already familiar with the subject and people who have newly learned it.
The result has some potentially interesting implications for education.
Rather than being purely the demesne of young adults, video games and the subtexts therein are a potential means of common understanding between instructors and students.
Think about it this way: you’re teaching a unit on The Great Gatsby, and you’re looking to draw from examples that your students are already deeply familiar with. Perhaps they’re unfamiliar with an unreliable narrator in The Great Gatsby‘s context, but perhaps they’ve played The Stanley Parable, home to one of the least reliable (and most antagonistic) narrators in gaming. Why not use the opportunity to make that connection, even if it’s something as simple as a shared trope?
Considering subtext is not simply a matter of lining up literary devices, however. Games can have vocal (and visceral!) things to say on subjects ranging from transhumanism (see Adam Jensen’s undesired cybernetic alteration in Deus Ex: Human Revolution) to Randian objectivism (Andrew Ryan’s failed underwater meritocracy in Bioshock).
Video games are valid subjects of literary discussion unto themselves, and in most educational contexts, they remain untapped.
How many more deep conversations could we be happening if the canon was larger? How many more people would you be able to reach if S.T.A.L.K.E.R. had just as much a place in a library as Roadside Picnic?
Whether you’re an educator, a librarian, or just an interested scholar, this blog is the place for you to find a means to connect a wealth of untapped media to a greater literary conversation.
AUTHOR
Howdy. My name’s Matt. I am a graduate student at Butler University’s College of Education. This blog is an exercise both in information literacy and connection of personal passion (interactive pixel widgets) to professional passion (word-thinking for mind-learning). Lest my credentials be in question, I hold a BA in English Literature and have clocked over 1,500 hours in Team Fortress 2. Rest assured that I am both well-read and very good at shooting cartoon rockets at virtual men.
NAME
In 1994, Edge Magazine published a much-maligned review of id Software’s ultro-giga-hit first person shooter, DOOM. Where the game was otherwise getting rave reviews from both critical outlets and the general gaming public, Edge Magazine’s review was dismissive. DOOM was, at its heart, a high-speed twitch-reflex action game. In a case of gross misunderstanding, the reviewer voiced his disappointment as to the relative simplicity of gameplay, desiring something more narratively substantive.
How one would develop the expectation that a game about shooting cyborg demons from hell with plasma guns would provide a meaty narrative is unclear, but the review ended with the now-immortal line “If only you could talk to the monsters. Now that would be something.”
Thus, the blog has been named. I chose it as a wink-and-nod to this intersection (clumsy as it was) of discourse and video gaming (so as to make me seem terribly sharp and witty), but take it also to mean that you should engage with your students on their own terms. Though they may seem monstrous (and if you’re unfamiliar with games, their hobbies and pastimes may make them seem additionally so), it doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t talk to them.