The future is grim. At
least that’s what a lot of the media I consume has been telling me
for a while now. The apocalypse is coming, and when it does things
won’t be pretty. Zombies, nuclear fallout, mutants, death and
destruction, these themes are prevalent today. The reasons I’m sure
are multitude, our lives today often eschew real danger, that
desperation for survival has been neatly curbed by modern life so
abundant at times with Maslow’s basic needs that on some level we
just take this for granted. If the power goes out for a night, or
(heaven forbid) your internet stops working, it’s as much an
inconvenience as anything. So the idea of suddenly having nothing, of
fighting just to survive one day to the next has a certain morbid
appeal. But equally this trend could be symptomatic of a world that
often seems on the verge of a collapse, from the banking crisis to
nuclear threats, terrorism and global warning there is a very real
fear permeating society that the current status-quo may not last.
These are fascinating
subjects to think on, they mine deep and rich wells of human
psychology and moral conundrums. They allow a form of escape, as so
much of our media does, but in a world unbound by the rules we
encounter every day. And yet… and yet I worry that the desire for,
and volume of such scenarios has been to the detriment of other,
potentially more relevant and interesting ideas. Fight or flight is
easy, and exploring the depths of moral depravity in desperate
situations an effective way of emotionally engaging players /
viewers, but I’ve been wondering lately to the actual value of
this, not that media has to be valuable, as such, or teach us things,
but when it all seems to be visceral, shock tactics and barrel
scraping I often crave something more subtle. Not as a rule, but as a
counter-point, hegemony in any subject belies a certain redundancy in
ideas and in message.
Such thoughts were
largely brought to life playing through Naughty Dog’s excellent
PlayStation 3 game, the Last of Us. As an example of game story,
technical accomplishment and moral ambiguity it sits unparalleled in
recent memory. It is also a rather grim and increasingly brutal
experience to play through; largely because it features such well
realised and rounded characters that you form strong attachments
with. Despite this as I reached the end of the game it almost felt
like a tipping point. Like it was the pinnacle of this kind of
narrative. Stepping into another ruined, crumbling post-apocalyptic
world doesn’t hold much appeal to me at the moment, and I don’t
think it’s just because the Last of Us drained my empathy supplies.
I think it’s because of a lack of balance, in the genre and across
the media. Put more specifically, where is light to balance the dark?
Not necessarily in terms of the issues raised or emotions dealt with,
but there seems to be a distinct lack of ambition and belief in us as
a species, and the possibilities for our future. We are at risk of
seeing a generation’s views on the potential of society being
boiled down to unavoidable death and destruction.
Back in the 1950s and
60s, when the space-race was afoot and optimism abounded both here
and in America the results of this were born in shows like Star Trek.
These presented a view of a united future, a vision of progress and
harmony that still managed to engage with the big questions of the
day. They may look antiquated and silly now, but there is something
about that optimism and vision that I miss nowadays. Maybe this is
part of the reason that JJ Abrams recent reboot of the franchise
seemed to strike something of a chord with people, it found that
lightness of touch and positive tone that imbued the future with a
sense of fun so often missing from the dour, grey blockbusters of
recent times. And it’s not like the world 60 years ago was such a
wonderful place to live in, the legacy of two world wars and numerous
other conflicts left their toll, but the possibilities of science and
technology to reshape the future was enough to inspire a generation
to reach the moon, an otherwise impossible-seeming task.
Maybe today we lack
this (some would say naïve) belief. Those that lived through this
era and didn’t see the radical changes promised grew disillusioned,
and whilst I would argue looking back and comparing modern life to
what it was shows many of these revolutions have indeed happened,
just gradually and in differing ways to those that were envisioned, I
also understand the feeling. I am not endorsing happy-clappy
whitewashed visions of a future filled with unrecognisable people.
What I want to see more of is people chasing something other than
pure survival. Something bigger than us individually, a goal of
betterment, that speaks beyond the individual. You could make the
argument that some recent games, such as Mass Effect work more on
this side of the spectrum than the irradiated wastelands of Fallout
and Stalker. Indeed Mass Effect is modelled a lot on the Star Trek
notion of co-operation between races and galactic conflict. It’s no
surprise then maybe that the best parts of those games are frequently
the mini stories it manages to tell, outside of the wider
galaxy-in-peril narrative, just regarding characters and how they
interact.
This
wider issue is also intertwined with a general desire to move away
from more galaxy-spanning narratives to smaller scale, more human
endeavours, but even with this they often use nightmare visions of
the future as a way in; an easy shorthand for dropping the normal
pretence of behaviour and morality. It’s harder to craft more
nuanced stories, or envision futures without such eye-catching visual
backdrops, but I also think there is greater potential for empathy,
and for the players and viewers of the media to engage with the moral
questions they may actually face, in worlds less alien than we
typically see.
So by all means give me
moral quandaries, represent the full spectrum of human emotion but
don’t limit yourself to the negative just because it is easier.
There is an exciting and invigorating vision of our future waiting
out there for someone to capture it. A world in which the best as
well as the worst in us is explored, and our potential celebrated.
I’ve seen the end of civilisation. I’ve walked its ash-strewn
streets and bombed out buildings. Fought its wars and done what
needed to be done in order to survive.
And I have emerged
unsatisfied, wanting to see the other path.
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