Flawless Cowboy (Part 1)

Flawless Cowboy:

How Halo: Combat Evolved transcends the series and the medium

(This article is not meant to discuss any of the following: Halo Combat Evolved’s mechanics, its relative merits in the history of gaming, the importance of the title in respect to non-Halo titles, the Halo sequels outside of the purposes for comparison to similar content in Halo: Combat Evolved, Xbox Live, the Halo online community or any multiplayer aspect. It is an analytical, opinionated piece about the single-player campaign of Halo: Combat Evolved.)

For all intents and purposes, the Greeks (Plato in particular) invented the concept of the archetype. To the Greeks and the philosophical world at large, the archetype represents the ideal, the truest manifestation of a thing. To build an object, to envision a place, to make a decision; all are represented by an archetype that embodies the most undeniably “true” nature of its existence. A table for instance, contains an archetype from which all other tables in history have spawned forth, none being quite as “table-like” as the table archetype. Ironic then, that archetypes are so difficult to agree upon; humans being the subjective, emotional creatures they are.

There exists however a refinement of the archetype, a more readily utilized concept that humans have been using for thousands of years to make their lives easier: the stereotype. Stereotypes, like archetypes, are the most recognized depiction of a concept; be that person, place, or thing. A stereotypical table for instance will consist of a hard, flat surface supported at the corners by four legs. To put it into perspective, the table archetype would be the most “stereotypically stereotypical” table in (non) existence.

It is generally accepted that the fewer parameters an archetype contains, the closer it gets to being ideal. Four legs and a top is essentially the archetype for a table, and it is seemingly impossible to reduce it further. However “four legs, a square top, and made of wood” is already too limiting, too specific. Archetypes are meant to encompasses vast mental plains, to inter-relate the minutiae, not divide and separate them.

There is comfort in the use of stereo- and archetypes. They assist in the classification and categorization of information for the brain, and carry with them an inherent bank of emotional data, and even further represent a generally agreed upon ideal. When given a logical Universe of limited possibilities, it is possible to strengthen and enforce these ideals. The more we see tables with four legs and a top, the more that stereotype gains in strength, and in-turn the emotional data associated with tables (if any).

Which brings us to Halo: Combat Evolved and why it among many of its peers, even its own successors, is perhaps the most genuinely archetypal, and by extension best, game of the Halo series.

Part I: The Chief

The Halo franchise is far-reaching and thoroughly constructed. Within its limits there exist planets, people, technology, even entire alien civilizations and languages. All of these things work in conjunction to form a cohesive Universe; a mental playground. However, Halo: Combat Evolved is the story of one man and his journey. It is perhaps best to start with him and the unexpected emblem he has become.

Greeks as we’ve established were very interested in the ideal, and often strove to render physical those ideals in the form of icons. Then as now, icons are used to denote a variety of concepts: stories, people, collections of ideas, entire religions and political alignments. Their use remains the same though, to visually signify and embody the ideal of a thing. Master Chief is such an icon.

To us, Master Chief represents such concepts as “good” and “strength” and not a single pixel is wasted on letting the player believe otherwise. Cutting a mountainous silhouette against the watery cloudscape of the Halo world Master Chief’s angular military green MJOLNIR armor is the visual definition of “heroic”; Achilles at the gates of Troy, Saint George at the dragon’s cave. It is obvious before a single-line has been spoken, even before opening the game case, that Master Chief is the Hero of this tale; a near-literal statue of triumph.

What is important to note here is that Master Chief is not a simple automaton of pseudo-future science; his existence is tied directly with the player’s own. The wide polarized visor in his helmet is an obstacle for us to identify with him as an observer; conversely (and more importantly) it is a conduit through which the player can subjectively experience the quest of defeating the Covenant and destroying the Halo ring. The Chief’s existence is not to simply embody the concept of a “Hero”, he is meant to be an extension of the player’s desires and thoughts; as a vehicle of the player’s will, where they would fail he can succeed.

In future iterations of the Halo franchise, Master Chief’s persona as the ultimate hero becomes diluted. Awash in an ever-growing cast of secondary and tertiary characters, he is relegated to mere participant in a much larger scheme. Events begin to move out of his (and by proxy the player’s) control and in the middle chapter, you are removed entirely from Master Chief’s physical self and placed inside the Arbiter. While experiencing the story from a new angle is always a refreshing change and an interesting narrative device; in terms of establishing the most fertile playground for the mind, this removal of the player’s identity from the Master Chief only serves to disconnect him or her from the emotional involvement of the first game.

By the trilogy’s final act there is little to distinguish Master Chief from the other puppets on stage. Rather than be the sole catalyst for the salvation of the Universe, Master Chief becomes a tool manipulated by forces both outside of his and the player’s control. These secondary figures distract from the solitary tone of the first game, presenting a cacophonous din to wash out the tranquility of Halo: Combat Evolved’s tale of a man (and player) against the world. The idea that the more populated the Halo Universe becomes, the less interesting it seems is an idea this article will continue to address.

Game Journalism – Does It Exist?

The global impact of digital technology has changed the way people live and function. Communication, business, and even language would be alien, unknowable to even the most forward thinkers of the 20th century. Words, ideas, and concepts founded in the societies of the past still guide and influence us today, however their relevance so often remains unchecked. Does journalism still exist as an institution to serve the spread of information, or has the advent of the internet and its instantaneous flow of data changed the fundamental way in which readers obtain news? Is the argument on the existence “Game Journalism” one of function or one of semantics?

Going by standard and time-held definitions, I would theorize that “Game Journalism” does not exist. A journalist and by extension journalism is to quote Merriam’s “writing characterized by a direct presentation of facts or description of events without an attempt at interpretation”. To some extent this applies to the current climate of game journalism: Writer X for Website Y attends Event Z and relays the information about his/her experience. These are facts, they are indisputable.

However, what about the other writer’s and outlets that simply parrot Writer X’s information, framed entirely outside the context of Website Y? With the on-demand nature of the internet, “journalism” exists for the micro-second new information resides on a single node; awaiting regurgitation across the many channels of the web. This kind of rapid proliferation diffuses the information, and with every step from a factual recounting of a real event, more opinion and bias is injected into the story. Each retelling will hinge on what the poster feels is most important about the information. This is assuming that Writer X had enough sense to write his/her piece with as little personal interpretation as possible; an opinion of an opinion of an opinion on what may or not be factual information. This is not journalism.

Writing about events and cataloging specific bullet-points about a game are typically not the majority of output for a “Game Journalist”. The game industry has long been one centered on advancement of the technologies that support it, and the integration of that technology into other sectors of our world (ex: mobile communications, social networking, digital distribution). As such, the gaming press has become arguably the most “web-centric” of all media outlets, growing nearly in tandem with the internet, and in large part a driving force behind its ubiquity.

What then do “game journalists” have to write about if not factual information? In the digital ‘print’ market, where the exclusive exists for a nanosecond what can gaming media outlets do to survive?

Most “Game Journalists” are a cogs in a machine. They do not report insomuch as they (re)tell. There is no journalistic imperative, no investigation, and above all no fact-checking. Information is input into the machine of the internet, and in an hour, the site is registering a fresh batch of clicks from redirected links. The majority of output for gaming enthusiast publications then is editorials; opinions.

They share opinions, give editorialized views on particular happenings and doings in the industry, analyze and reflect on the medium and its history and in general spread their personality around the internet. Journalism as a method of “direct presentation of facts” cannot exist where there no longer exists a need for such a conduit. The internet itself is the one “Game Journalist” that ever need exist; its Users each creating their own Evening News of gaming as they Google videos, read reviews, and look at screenshots. The presentation has been removed entirely from the hands of reporter and placed into the control of the reader.

What then? Should journalism, like gaming, adapt itself to a less rigid system of rules and standards and reach out to include opinions and general case studies of a particular subject? Is this article itself any kind of journalism? This particularly is an argument of semantics, and one that will likely never be settled. However, the issues with “Game Journalism” do not stem from the mere words being placed together, but moreover with what “Game Journalists” as a whole do with their position.

Finger-pointing aside, there seems to exist a mystique around the career-path of a “Game Journalist”. As though attaining this moniker required some ancient and treacherous incantation of black magic. This expectation has largely been fed by the rabid gaming community, and many journalists in the industry have struggled to shed themselves of this glorification. However, most do not help themselves by refusing to understand that they as individuals are merely one voice among millions. Rather than rely on content to “sell”, there needs to be an enlightenment that “personality” is what will drive gaming media in the coming decade. Interesting, reflective content that resonates with a particular demographic will drive the gaming press economy. Hopefully those without anything pertinent (or interesting, or intelligent) to say will retreat and let those with genuine insight step forward. Perhaps this is inevitable, the advent of the Web 2.0 phenomenon taken to its logical, noisy end.

This isn't to say that these “Enthusiasts” do not fill a role that is needed; but until we face the fact that the only thing dividing a “gamer” from a “Game Journalist” is a paycheck, we'll never move beyond the icon worship pathology the gaming community so obviously suffers from. I am not attempting to build the notion that ‘anyone’ can be a ‘Game Journalist’; that all it requires is enough fingers to operate a keyboard and the ability to differentiate an Xbox from a Saturn. I suppose I do not have a particular solution myself, but I do not find the ever rising cacophony of information being repeated across the net, each iteration louder than the previous, to be the right path for the industry.