Blogs

There’s Something about SOMA

It was recently announced that after just over a year of release, SOMA has sold 450,000 copies. Originally released in September 2015 by Frictional Games, SOMA attempts to grapple with an ancient yet timeless slice of unsettling metaphysics, via the viewpoint of a layman encountering it for perhaps the first time. The central conceit confronts the player with the dual questions of: “What is it to exist?” and “What is the sense of self-identity that we seem to experience and how does it relate to our greater reality?” Pared down to its base form, the issue might be stated as the struggle to define who or what we really are.  

While Frictional (and others to be sure—see also Ether One by White Paper Games) have touched upon variations of these themes previously, they usually did so in a much narrower, personalized focus. The most affecting elements of ‘horror’ broadly in SOMA (and to an extent Amnesia, etc.) are more on the side of a vague but pervasive existential dread that one leaves off with upon completion. It is not actually the plots themselves that are unnerving (though parts of them can be, depending on the personality of the player) but rather, I argue, it is the overall implications of the issues addressed in them that are where the true horror aspects originate and that resonate most. Oftentimes this is more forcefully experienced in retrospect, after the final credits have faded and the player has time to digest everything they’ve just witnessed and experienced.

To its credit, SOMA works to actively recognize this fact, (as the developers themselves stated was their intent) and in a large way depends upon it for its effectiveness.  The trappings of a traditional survival-horror/sci-fi atmosphere in SOMA serve as a sort of arena in which the questions raised in the introduction are allowed to insidiously creep into both the main character Simon Jarrett, and player’s thoughts as the plot progresses. At times perhaps mirroring those thoughts in some of its plot elements, without over-emphasizing and thus smothering the player with them. It allows the various implications and facets of the original concerns to slowly become the main antagonist, rather than that of the bio-mechanical/Lovecraftian menace of its more traditional monsters and creatures, which in the long run are simply environmental obstacles to overcome in the same way solving the puzzles necessary to progress are.

The game aims to nudge the player into a deeper, more realized exploration of the grander concepts, while offering no hard answers, since, to the best of human knowledge, they are open (and often intensely debated) concerns. And that in itself is notable. That it is able to more subtly do this within the constraints of contemporary games, in my opinion, elevates SOMA to a higher tier within the medium as a whole.

Other games have certainly reached for similar heights, and have come close to capturing this sense. It must be mentioned that SOMA elicited a variety of comparisons to Bioshock upon release. [Polygon has an opinion piece that’s a pretty good read] And though valid, I posit that there is really only one major element they share of note and import to the medium. I don’t wish to idly compare and contrast as that would seem a disservice to both games, so allow me to simply gloss over the main resemblances: Yes, SOMA takes place largely in an abandoned/ruined underwater complex and yes, there is a sort of ‘twist’ that is perpetrated upon the player character, and ostensibly, the player themselves. And sure, some (but not all) of the creature designs in SOMA resemble Bioshock’s iconic Big Daddies. All of these amount to mostly superficial similarities. What I think is more significant about both games is their intent to confront players with an interesting if not disturbing train of thought and allow for them to absorb it within the context of their own views as well as those considerations present in the plots of each. So, whilst Bioshock asks players first and foremost what it means to possibly have free will, SOMA asks what it means to have a conscious identity (free or otherwise) in general.

It seems natural to me that one must come before the other and certainly SOMA owes a debt to Bioshock as well as a handful of other precursors before it; Rome was neither built nor destroyed in a day. But I do firmly believe SOMA thus marks an important evolution for games that are committed to integrating truly troubling issues that humanity has not, and possibly cannot ever fully reconcile. In fact in some some way featuring those issues as the true ‘star’ of its story, with all of the other elements contained within it being incidental vehicles to achieve the goal of imparting an ‘existential horror’ experience. The real monsters in SOMA are not the shambling, rusting hulks reanimated by the WAU in PATHOS-II any more than Fontaine or Ryan are the real villains in Rapture. Rather, the impact comes from the haunting questions that one is forced to face when reflecting on the nature of oneself as a whole. Beyond struggling with whether one is indeed a man or a slave, one must then ask what it means to be able to ask that question at all. This is the strength of SOMA, and given the sales numbers it’s now achieved, hopefully is a sign  that further notice and attention will be paid to it as a guideline for incorporating such thorny topics within games in the future.

-Scott Thurlow

Music as a Supporting Character in “Star Trek Beyond”

In our podcast about “Star Trek Beyond,” I argued that Michael Giacchino’s score could be considered a supporting character. He teases the main theme throughout the movie, using its buildup [0:00-0:42–theme starts 0:43] and variations to support the progression of the story, as well as character locations, emotions and actions.

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Betraying Morality Sans Empathy

In the latest batch of ‘casts, we covered three topics in games that are broadly related–the ethics of betrayalsmorality choices, and empathy-inducing characters/moments. We discussed the effectiveness, or lack thereof, of many instances of each, and why we thought some worked while others fell flat. Each of us had a number of examples that were, if not impactful, at least memorable for some particular reason.

However, an integral related issue, and touched upon variously, is the highly subjective nature of all three elements. What is ‘moral’ to one may not be to another, and likewise for the other two subjects. Syntax Error attempts to focus on the oft under-explored philosophical angles of such considerations, filtered through the narrative of games. But in the case for these, because of the fact that individuals will be affected on wildly different scales, it becomes much more of a tangle than it would normally. It is a Sisyphean task to attempt to invoke feelings about something or someone to whom one has little to no connection or feelings for. Conversely, something which is greatly affecting for one may be met with apathy in another. Because there is no ‘absolute’ set of right/wrong codes (despite perhaps the many attempts over the course of history to impose such), these considerations will by necessity be relative to any given situation or set of circumstances.

I myself have been accused of being (to put it lightly) ‘amoral.’ And my usual counter-argument is that philosophically and logically, that is the only way one can be, at least according to me. Mayhaps that indeed makes me a monster. Nevertheless, that is how I approach video games. Additionally, because games are, at the end of the day, merely a proxy, then the mechanisms become further removed from reality when confronting them within an artificial setting. Since there are no concrete consequences to the actions chosen or disregarded within a given game, the burden of invoking impact lies almost as much with how willing the player is to suspend their disbelief as with the content of the game itself.

Ultimately, which elements in a game are affecting and to what degree, will always be relative in some measure to the individual player that is experiencing them. So it is, and so it will ever be. I think it’s important to both recognize the mutable nature of a game’s components, and at the same time–as a much greater philosopher than I once said–to Know Thyself. So that the next time a game (or other medium) attempts to manipulate your mindset, it may be possible to see how, and why it succeeds, or fails, in doing so.

-Scott Thurlow

Apocalyptic Antics

What exactly “counts” as an apocalypse? This is what we attempted to define in this week’s podcast. While the answers and viewpoints varied, this I believe is tied to the general aura surrounding the concept itself. A point brought up in the discussion that I would like to expand on further here is the idea of ‘The End’ being endemic of all humanity, from the time we stopped banging rocks together and realized we could stop existing.
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Ruminating on a Waste of Carbon

In lieu of the apocalypse, we humans have created an absurd number of golden calves to the idea. A concept so repugnant that our stories find it nearly impossible to follow to its realistic and logical conclusion, the world’s end has been a fascinating study of the human capacity for denial since the invention of narrative. These days, everyone has their own doomsday survival plan. And as cool as it is to pretend you’re going to be one of the people who is strong enough to survive, here’s a simple fact: You’re not. You’re going to die. Don’t believe me? Well come find me after it all goes down and prove it. Read More

Gaming by the Numbers

In one of my more banal existences, I made sandwiches at a local delicatessen for a modest wage.  While not as soul-crushing as other professions I would later occupy, the job offered enough idleness to foster angst-ridden, pseudo-philosophy worthy of Updike’s A&P cashier.  One of my tasks was to dispose of unwanted sandwich meats at the end of the night.  I would weigh them, tally the loss and toss.

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On Game Length: The Motion in the Ocean

The Order: 1886 was the catalyst for our first podcast, but it certainly wasn’t the first time I’ve heard the argument. Does the length of a game impact its value? Or is it what is packed in – the gameplay, the narrative, the art, the soundtrack — that ultimately defines what that game is worth? Of course, it’s a tough question, and if you read reviews about any mass media, it’s one that you’ll hear repeated over and over again.

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Consumerism vs. AAArt: A Brief Piece on Length

“I paid 60 bucks for this game, and it’s only 6 hours long–what the fuck?!”

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