Taste is an interesting quirk of humanity, isn't it? There's food-based taste: I have an affinity for caramel (which, when asked, I say I pronounce as "kuh-RAM-uhl"), raspberries, and brownies (all at once, if you please, in some nice sweet cream ice cream from Coldstone, thank you very much), but I also like lamb. There's also musical tastes: If it isn't third-wave ska, '90s alternative grunge, or light rock like John Mayer, Dave Matthews, or Jason Mraz, then I'm not interested. Aesthetically, I am a big fan of gothic architecture and Tim Burton-esque milieu. In other words, Bloodborne is my kind of game*. There are a lot of things that recommend it to any PlayStation 4 owner (as it's an exclusive title, only those blessed with the good taste of purchasing the Sony console can enjoy the game), not the least among these things is the aesthetic. The story--from what I can glean from the sporadic narrative--is that there's a cursed city, Yharnam, wherein monsters and villagers are…um…there to kill the player. Okay, so I don't know a lot about the story. Narrative in video games is inherently different from other visual media (including Hideo Kojima's Metal Gear Solid games, which run decidedly in a more cinematic style than almost any other series), in large part because there are protracted moments and experiences that intersperse plot advancements. That is, there's a game interwoven between the narrative. Some games choose to omit the narrative altogether (Tetris doesn't really have a lot of robust backstory or worldbuilding to dive into, for example), while others--consider the Final Fantasy series--will spend inordinate amounts of time developing concepts, themes, and plot points. Part of what makes video games so exciting is the different ways of telling stories. When it comes to Bloodborne, From Software (the makers of the game) chose to err on the side of drip-fed, organic storytelling. Though the game begins in the same place, and there are a handful of expected moments--narrative unlocked in order to progress any further in the game--the way the lore of the world is unfolded varies on the playthrough. In my case, I played a good fifty hours or so (I would guess) before getting stuck and lost and, sadly, losing my save file. I've since started a replay of the game and have been enjoying it much more than I did back when I first started. Part of this is because I learned how to play it better--I'm still not specifically good at it, but I don't die quite as often as I did my first time through--and part of it is because I have enough familiarity with the world to know that I had misspent some of my time during my first foray into Yharnam. With this new playing, I get a chance to again enjoy the thing that allured me to the game in the first place: The setting. Yharnam is one part horror setting, one part gothic memories of a Victorian London. The costumes, architecture, and ambiance all blend in to a strong sense of location and identity. There's nothing quite like Yharnam, but there are echoes of a nineteenth-century Paris. It's familiar, but also uncanny and unfamiliar. The name of the game is apt: There is a lot of blood in this game, and though there isn't any swearing to speak of, nor nudity/sex, its grim tone, endless streams of blood and death, and morose setting make it a decidedly family-unfriendly sort of game. I feel, though, that this game really lives up to the Warkian concept about violence, as he wrote about in his 2007 book, Gamer Theory: That games present the digital in its most pure form are reason enough to embrace them, for here violence is at its most extreme--and its most harmless. (23) Bloodborne is hyperviolent, but its purpose and tone are so different than, say, Grand Theft Auto V or any of the Call of Duty games that it's hard to put them into the same category. I think part of this is the equivalency of the violence. In other games where violence is the method by which the player experiences the world, there's an imparity between the gamer's avatar and the enemies. Setting aside online gaming matches, a player going through Resident Evil 6 will control a character who can dish out massive amounts of violence--grenades, knives, guns, rocket launchers, and more--against the enemies. Mindless zombies get ripped apart by the player's arsenal. Bloodborne, however, doesn't do that**. While I have the advantage of non-algorithmic thinking and can exploit bugs, features, and quirks of the system, I do not have invincible impunity. The hallmark of From Software games--as countless other people have noted--is that there is a punishing amount of work to get through these games. That is to say, a player will have to play for hours to get good enough to make it through even small sections of the world. The avatar can gain experience, yes, and become stronger--weapons can be refined and repaired, stats can be boosted--but the escalating costs for everything makes it harder and harder to keep up with the strength of the creatures. The parity between my character and the enemies I fight is always tipped in favor of the enemies. Playing this game, the avatar dies. Frequently. Often painfully. Intermixed with this frequent reminder of the fragility of life is the fact that, as a game, the player can return to the world. Death may not be permanent, but the fact that the game's experience/currency (called "blood echoes") is lost at each death creates a different risk/reward paradigm than other games rely on. If I die while playing Overwatch, the punishment is that I wait nine seconds before jumping back into the match. Though I've always the incentive to play well and avoid death, its permanence on the game is trifling. This, to me, is the genius of the Bloodborne method: Because it's a game that expects you to die a lot--even the weakest of monsters, if ignored for a few moments, can deal lethal amounts of damage--it has shifted the meaning of death from "Press X to continue" to a strategical response. Is it worth plunging deep into the world to harvest the blood echoes from the creature who last killed you, restoring your lost booty? Or is it safer to chalk them up as a loss and seek experience elsewhere? This idea of repetition and cycles is reflected in the motifs of the game. Again, I'm early in the lore, but it's clear that the Hunt that's taking place in Yharnam is not an unusual thing; that is, it has happened before. The curse for the "Night of the Hunt" is clearly not a one-off. The denizens who aren't transformed into nightmare fuel are holed up in their homes, barricading their doors and praying that they survive the night. That there are Hunters who are expected, who have a role to fill, also shows that the entire world is built upon death, rejuvenation, and repetition. That's pretty cool, if you ask me. Also, it just looks awesome. Look at that! Creepy, yes. But also super cool. ---
* Yeah, yeah, I know: This essay is at least three years old, as the game is hardly brand new. But it's on my mind and, since my kids are awake, I can't really ignore my writing and go play it, now can I? ** Worth noting: It doesn't do the opposite, either. Games like the original Resident Evil and even Resident Evil 7 or Alone in the Dark are anxious to put the player in the place of the NPC--powerless, weak, and at the mercy of a much stronger entity. Games can play it both ways, though it's clear that the depowering motifs of survival-horror games do not translate into the same sort of steady sales as the power-fantasy fuel of Battlefield and Call of Duty. ==== Hey, friends. I have been releasing essays on my website for a couple of years now at a pretty steady rate. I'm happy to do so, as it benefits me as a writer and (I hope) you as a reader. I also think that, as a writer, it's okay if I believe that my work has some value monetarily as well as emotionally. To that end, I've created a Ko-Fi account, which is basically a way to give an online tip to a creator whose work you appreciate. The idea is, you can buy them a cup of coffee. (That's what the name of the website sounds like, if you're curious.) I'm not charging for any of the content on my website; instead, if you'd like to toss me a cup-le (see what I did there?) of bucks to show your gratitude, that would be cool. I'd totally appreciate that appreciation. If you don't? No problem. We can still be friends. As always, thanks for reading! |
AuthorWould you like to support my writings? Feel free to buy me a coffee (which I don't drink, but I do drink hot chocolate) at my Ko-Fi page. Thanks! Archives
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