I wrote a paper for a class on game studies. We got to pick a topic and write about it, and my paper got a B+. My professor, my peers, and my big sister seem to think I make some good points. So I’ll be posting it here on my blog. Click here. momfricker​ gerdkinerf​ hjkayyy​ inkerton-kun​ kanayastrider​

In Which “Sexy” Does not equate to “Sexist”

Or, where the Line is Drawn with Female Character Design

Sexuality has almost always had a complicated relationship with videogames. Some of them take laughable approaches, in which female characters get dental floss for an outfit while the men get enough armor to withstand stepping on a landmine. Only few games, such as Catherine, take a more adult approach to sexuality and relationships. And the topic of the behavior of the players themselves is another can of worms entirely. As a whole, it’s controversial anyway you slice it, with prominent critics like Anita Sarkeesian calling out common trends that have gotten tiresome. But what I think, is that a game can have sexualized characters and even entirely unrealistic body types, and not be an issue. However, the key idea that will support both my argument and the genuine concerns raises by Sarkeesian et al, is the fact that there is a societal context to games like Senran Kagura, where a multitude of factors can assist in making a game more or less egregious in how it depicts women, including art style, and other games or general media released alongside it.

The first factor I want to address is the context within a title’s own production. Two games I want to bring into this point are Bayonetta, and Senran Kagura. Both have caught a lot of press for their depictions of their respective female characters, both positive and negative. However, I think they both have something in common that is important to notice – both series lean heavily towards “the fantastical,” in both art style, story, and in-game designs. Neither of which has any sort of visual implication that they take place in a real world. Bayonetta, for example, stars the witch of the same name, as she battles angels – which possess upside-down baby faces and metal wings - with her hair, which can turn into a dragon. She has four pistols – two in her hands, and two more as the heels of her shoes. She can double-jump by briefly sprouting butterfly wings. The game is as realistic as a slug is fast. Next, with Senran Kagura, the games focus on two rivaling all-female schools of ninjas, most of which are incredibly buxom – and when I say “incredible,” I mean these chests are literally not credible. They flop around as the character of your choice mows down faceless mobs in a Dynasty Warriors-esque hack-n’-slash, without a single issue with back pain. But here’s where it gets weird, but in a good way. First off is the art style, which is done in a very stylized, anime-like fashion; in fact, it appears the game uses cell-shading technology, not unlike numerous games that are adapted from animated properties, such as Dragonball Xenoverse, or Marvel vs. Capcom 3. Immediately, you can tell this show is quite cartoony, and then you see this goes beyond the style, as Senran Kagura doesn’t take itself serious one iota. There’s the cheesy zoom-ins on each character’s posterior as they transform, to the improbable weapons used by every character – one character uses massive pile bunkers, another uses her sharp fountain pens, and another uses a giant pair of scissors. It’s a game that is perfectly aware of what it is, and doesn’t pretend to be anything else.

Now, you may be wondering, “why is any of this a good thing, and why should I keep anything you just said in mind?” That’s an entirely legitimate question to ask, and the way I answer this concern is by thinking about how your average every-person would consume it. What I think, is that a game that otherwise has a serious atmosphere, or tries to be realistic or gritty, or anything like that, then suddenly adds in a barbarian princess in a chain-mail bikini, is a cultural dissonance of sorts within the game. I’d imagine the larger issue with sexualized characters is with games that otherwise take themselves seriously, or purport themselves to be a realistic adventure. With Bayonetta and Senran Kagura, these games are a textbook example of “what you see is what you get.” The box art alone for both series are boldly straightforward, without empty and specious claims of being a game that can be thoroughly enjoyed by those who want to avoid things like awkwardly shoehorned-in romance plots in their superhero movies, or your everyday damsels in distress. Both titles have a bold, truthful presentation of their sexual content, and both are presented in such stylized settings, neither can be assumed to be realistic in any regard, let alone set in the real world. But, if a game with sexualized women was more realistic, then you run into the issue of setting off a “when-in-Rome” sort of signal, in addition to my next subject: the context of the game within other pieces of media.

When it comes to violence or sexualization in games, I’d say a good comparison to make is that it’s like sugar or salt. Consuming a small amount of it can be enjoyable, but excess amounts results in averse effects. “Everything in moderation,” as some would say. I think the same is true of certain themes within a society’s culture when being introduced into the society itself. In other words, I think the largest issue that Sarkeesian et al has with some tropes, isn’t necessarily an isolated or individual inclusion of them, but how often they appear in “the big picture,” i.e. in other media. If the overwhelming majority of titles contains a given motif or theme, more impressionable people will get this “when-in-Rome” sort of signal, and assume that the given theme is an acceptable behavior in society. This, I believe, is why the media in general has incredible power, because when enough parts of the media broadcast a theme, it becomes a part of society; it’s a bit like genetic drift. A gene with an allele frequency of, say, 0.8 will have an 80% chance to become fixed in a population, though it isn’t guaranteed. Similarly, I think if 80% of the media featured a certain idea, that idea will be all the more likely to become part of society itself. Both of these previous paragraphs ties in quite nicely with Edward Castronova’s “Almost Magic Circle.”

In summary, the concept of the “Almost Magic Circle” visualizes games as having a membrane that separates a given title’s virtual world with the real world (Castronova 147). In massive multiplayer games, like EVE Online or World of Warcraft, this membrane is remarkably permeable – that one space privateer trying to flee through an asteroid belt may be chatting with a friend about his family or work life, for example. But games like Senran Kagura seem to have a very solid membrane, with a both figuratively and literally animated artstyle, with other designs and story elements that are entirely within the realm of the fantastical.

Another factor that is important in both of these titles, is who precisely you play as. In both, you play as the female characters that have their own narratives, as opposed to a faceless, paternal caretaker. In the notorious title RapeLay, you play as a stalking groper, as you feel up a woman on a subway in one scenario. But that sort of perspective is nonexistent in games like Bayonetta and Senran Kagura. Rather than playing as a hyper-masculine hero that the women mindlessly lust over, or a faceless caretaker that women submit themselves to, these games mostly center around women. Both their playable characters, as well as their secondary characters, are women, with men being a minority. Even in games like Dragon’s Crown, the playable male characters aren’t any more powerful or integral than the female characters, and sexualization is equal opportunity, such as with a shirtless, ripped male barbarian that appears as a non-playable character. I feel that this agency is very important. In Hamlet on the Holodeck, Janet H. Murray gives an example of audience participation in the theatre adaption of Peter Pan, in which the audience is prompted to clap their hands to resurrect Tinkerbell (Murray 126). The so-called “fourth wall” becomes permeable, in this case. Indeed, agency and immersion have a notable relationship with each other, and in games like RapeLay, the immersion can be easier since the playable character is meant to be you, as opposed to a game like Bayonetta, where you don’t play as a proxy of yourself, but rather the character known as Bayonetta, who has her own goals, personality and interests rather than being an empty slate for the character to project himself/herself on. I think that’s largely why RapeLay was rightfully criticized beyond its subject matter of sexual assault, because you’re not playing as a character that’s simply written like the protagonist of A Clockwork Orange, but what is assumed to be yourself, in a first-person perspective, versus Bayonetta, Senran Kagura, or Dragon’s Crown in where you largely play as a character, with her own voice and personality, from a 3rd-person perspective.

It seems to me that the subject of sexualization, and possibly violence by extension, becomes a troubling topic in videogames when that membrane becomes less permeable. Said membrane can break down when a game more closely resembles reality, either through its general aesthetic choice or the gravity of its plot. It also could become more permeable when titles that use these designs become a more common standard, rather than the niche they are today. Overall, when a game like Senran Kagura is made the way it is, and is in a niche part of gaming, I don’t see any issue. The fact is, is that games like Senran Kagura are a tiny minority of videogames, and even then, any concerning concepts that may be presented in the games will likely be kept in check by every other piece of existing media. And even if someone enjoys it, I don’t think that necessarily means they’re inherently disrespectful towards women, because the cultural membrane that these games have are remarkably thick. The multiple factors of these games, from the artstyle, atmosphere, camera perspective, and the context of the games themselves among other media gel well with Henry Jenkins’ commentary on videogame violence, in which violence itself can be given different contexts that change how a player perceives it. Jenkins mentions a game called Tropical America, in which violence is present, but instead of being romanticized, it is given a more grounded context within politics and national suffering (Jenkins 220). I know that Senran Kagura does not subvert the usual context of sexualized female characters, but I do think the context of the designs within the artstyle of the game matters in a similar way – rather than having a game that presents itself as realistic and praises objectification in a contrasting fashion, Senran Kagura and similar games are in a similar position as a title like Madworld or Bulletstorm would be within the context of games with violence, in which both take violence or sexualization to unrealistic extents, but take the rest of the game with it, such as with the artstyle. I hold the sentiment that the community of fans that enjoy playing Senran Kagura, Bayonetta, or similar games are not any more likely to be misogynists any more than people who play Grand Theft Auto are likely to commit vehicular manslaughter, or every single one of Call of Duty’s millions of players will enlist in their respective militaries across the world. And if we see violence on TV and film even more - such as with Breaking Bad or The Dark Knight - yet nobody’s going around New York City channeling their inner Jason Voorhees, then what’s a few more games with “cheesecake” going to hurt?

Bibliography:

Edward Castronova, Synthetic Worlds: The Business and Culture of Online Games. Chicago, IL: The University of Chicago Press, 2005. Print.

Murray, Janet H. Hamlet on the Holodeck: A Future of Narrative in Cyberspace. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 1998. Print.

Jenkins, Henry. Fans, Bloggers, and Gamers: Exploring a Participatory Culture. New York, NY: New York University Press, 2006. Print.