Video Game Heros and I

How does the video game protagonist relate to Modernist principals? It is a distanced I, as the player is subject to the character’s description and the boundaries of the world. The character chooses and advances the plot; the player controls the transportation, fights, and timing. As J. Alfred Prufrock and Gatsby were subject to the opinions of others, the protagonist is subject to the player’s discretion. J. Alfred Prufrock, socially neutered himself, a victim of insecurities and rumours. Gatsby is stuck under the rock of gossip, social pressure, and the unpredictability of people. Game heroes, too, are chained to public opinion paralyzed from the movement of the analog stick.

Then there is the infamous silent protagonist. Either the least or most sympathetic being on the planet, he is shaped entirely by the player. She becomes a kind of camera, through which we see it all—the victories and losses, the helpful and hindering, the beginning through the end. Do we consider the cameraman or camera the main character of a movie? Do we consider the narrator the main character of a novel or play? No. And yet, the silent protagonist is. The cameraman or narrator does not hold an I in the story, but the protagonist interacts with the world, the people. He holds the smallest fragment of an I, the last bit of integrity, within his eyes. Her stance. His hair. Her dialogue. Even if the player names him Seymour Butts.

As I play I remember that I am not Minato, Raidou, or Serph, as they bring down their swords, climb ladders, and stand on a rooftop. When, however, I’m asked to made a decision, it is not the anorexic anime character who answers, but myself. Is this the minimum association for human empathy? Or is it merely the face? The physical existence on screen? The preference of a coat or hat? The unconscious sound made during a fall? Maybe Prufrock is not the best example of the minimalistic I.