Sylvius the Mad wrote...
I see no reason why the player can't see an undefined character as being separate from himself with his own emotional motivations. In taht case, the player just needs to create those motivations - just as the writer did in a pre-defined character.
There's no difference. There's nothing stopping that playstyle you describe - viewing the character as independent and complete - from working with an undefined character.
That's how many of us manage to replay games like DAO over and over again; we create an entirely different PC each time.
I am aware. I couldn't, though, because of the way DAO was structured. As I've said, I felt building a fully fleshed out character for a Warden is something of an external exercise because I don't think the game provides enough personal rigours and emotional context in order to fully establish the character of the Warden by itself. I mean, I
could take the time to plot out the emotional nuances of the character, outside of the game, in the place of the questions Origins just never asks me, but I... don't. It just feels like I'm creating fanfiction at that point.
I still enjoy DAO plenty from a metagame perspective, and I've replayed it many times, but I don't think it had a very good framework with which to
build a distinct personal character as you went. Nobody really cared
who the Warden was; if I ended up with a defined character by the end of it it would have been entirely through my own external efforts, and if I'm putting that much work into creating a character I might as well be doing something less restrictive like PnP or freeform.
Addai67 wrote...
Isn't the whole point of playing a video game that your actions have an influence on the outcome? You're part of the story? Otherwise I start to ask what the devs need me for, if all they want to do is tell a story and have it unfold the same way regardless of my input. It might as well have been a movie or a fait accompli we're told about after the fact in a codex or cutscene. After all, it's billed as a "rise to power," not a rise to powerlessness.
It's interesting how people seem to take agency for granted. An excerpt from some other gangrenously bloated ****** I've written on this topic:
Though all games are interactive, few games allow the player agency within the narrative. "Gameplay" and "story" are usually sharply divided; the player interacts with the game through mechanical sequences that may resemble combat, platforming, puzzle solving, etc. depending on the game in question, but these sequences rarely affect the story. The core narrative is typically told "on rails", allowing the player to get off and "play" at predetermined spots clearly delineated by the game. The player may act out the acquisition of a key plot item or the demise of a villain, ostensibly becoming a key participant in the important events that shape the story, but he ultimately remains at the whim of the narrative; he, in effect, is only able to do what the game tells him to do. Some games are extremely linear in this respect, while others allow a more meandering approach of variable chronology, but in practice, most games have a singular narrative.
Roleplaying games, Bioware games in particular, are quite different in that respect -- by making dialogue interaction part of the gameplay itself, the game allows the player to take an active role in the direction of the narrative. Instead of simply acting out certain sequences in the narrative, the game presents the player with several branching paths that each bring the story to a different place; though these paths are also limited in number, technically little different from games with singular narratives, the presence of choice gives the player the impression that he, the player (separate from, though often in alignment with, the fictional protagonist(s)), is a critical agent within the narrative itself. In reality, he is still only able to accomplish whatever the developers have laid out for him within the confines of the game, but this feeling of agency is incredibly critical to the genre. It is an additional layer of emotional engagement that is not available to most other mediums.
Contrary to the normal path of video games, Dragon Age makes agency the standard. Rather than giving us rare moments of player agency in order to make the player feel personally responsible for the event, we
expect to have agency -- and when it isn't there, we
notice. Because something had deviated from the standard, it makes us feel something that purely linear narratives couldn't; at no point do we ever expect to, say, decide whether Mario rescues the princess or joins up with Bowser at the end, and we don't feel frustrated or stripped of anything when we can't impact that decision. But with Dragon Age, we do, and through that denial, the game ilicits emotions in the player that mirrors Hawke's own powerlessness.
It's certainly non-standard but I would argue that it's objectively bad or without artistic value. Other mediums have used dramatic denial and approached themes of personal failure since the dawn of time -- why not video games? Why can video games not use the inherent strengths of its medium to instill empathy with the
failures of the protagonist, in addition to his successes?