I recently presented this paper at the Southwest Regional Pop-Culture Association conference in Albuquerque New Mexico. Felt like sharing it here as my first blog post..

The full title was Nothing is True, Everything is Permitted: The Narrative Function of Morality Systems in Videogames. There was also a slideshow.

In recent years, the construction of videogames has become almost modular. Developers choose a basic gameplay style (shooter, strategy, beat-em-up, sandbox, role-playing game, etc), and then they choose a secondary gameplay style as a flavor splash to distinguish the basic gameplay from the rest of the games which fit into that particular archetype. Over the past few years, one of the more common game mechanics which developers tack onto their games has been the "morality system." Simply put, morality systems in videogames function by occasionally offering the player a choice to be a complete sadistic bastard or a holier-than-though paradigm of volunteer work and kitten rescue. As a result of the player's decisions, the game is somehow affected. In some games, the narrative changes, in others the avatar's appearance changes, in others these decisions unlock abilities or items that the player would not otherwise be able to access. When a morality system is well implemented, it can totally transform the game experience, and can seduce a player into running through the game multiple times to explore all of the different options. However, when a morality system is haphazardly slapped onto a game it can feel like window dressing.

Some critics have complained that even a well implemented morality system is too simplistic if it assumes a moral duality, specifically good versus evil. Ludologists Peter Rauch, Jon Cogburn and Gene Koo all contend that moral duality in games does not fairly reflect the complexity and real life application of "morality." Furthermore, these critics argue that while games with morality systems may appear to invite players to interact with complex worlds that offers infinite possibilities, the moral duality of the game only allows for two different ways of playing. Most players might go through the game once as a good guy, and once as a bad guy. This is because most of these games reward moral extremism. One of the better examples of this is Bioshock, which was an outstanding game in terms of environment, combat and narrative, but it suffered from a bad case of moral dualism.

Briefly, Bioshock was a shooter with role-playing game elements that focuses on players exploring the underwater city of Rapture, a failed utopia that has been overrun by genetically modified lunatics. The player strengthens their character's own genetically enhanced powers by harvesting a genetic material called ADAM. However, the only way the player can access ADAM is by taking it from characters called "Little Sisters" which are ghoulish scavengers in the form of young girls. The good guy or bad guy decision that the player is faced with is whether to "harvest" the Little Sisters, thus yielding more ADAM, or to "rescue" them, which yields less ADAM, but promises future reward. This offers very little room for moral deliberation. Typically, the player decides early on whether they are going to rescue or harvest the Little Sisters, and since the circumstances of each encounter are the same, it is likely that they will make the same decision every time. Rauch, Cogburn and Koo all argue that morality systems like this need to be completely reworked in order for them to have any sort of merit. However, while I agree that moral dualism like we see in Bioshock is rather flat, this does not mean that the entire game mechanic needs to be reworked. I think that the biggest problem with morality systems is not so much implementation on the part of game developers. Rather, these complex systems of choice and consequence sometimes fall flat because of the way players choose to engage them.

Before I continue, I need to go back to the roots of what these morality systems are based on. For the most part, videogame morality is based on some version of Dungeons and Dragons alignment. Alignment in D&D is a player assigned attribute which gives players a sense of how to play their characters. While it has some effect on game mechanics, alignment is primarily the framework of the role-playing element of the role-playing game. D&D alignment is charted across two axis, good to evil and law to chaos. According to the Player's Handbook, Good implies altruism, respect for life, and a concern for the dignity of sentient beings. Evil implies hurting, oppressing, and killing others. People who are neutral have compunctions against killing the innocent. Some neutral people maintain this position because they cannot decide between good and evil, while others seek to maintain a balance between the two extremes. While the good / evil axis determines motivation, the law / chaos axis determines method. Simply put, lawful characters follow the law, chaotic characters do not, and neutral characters follow the law when it suits them to do so. This results in a nine square grid that can be used to classify and assess the actions of any character in the game. For instance, the gallant paladin who roams the countryside rooting out evil villains and then filling out the appropriate paperwork and overseeing fair trials is a lawful good character. The evil counselor who advises his king to fight an unjust war is a lawful evil character.

As I said earlier, this system is not only useful for categorizing characters' past actions, it can also be used to help the player determine how they will play their character. Character creation is a complex process. How do you create a whole character complete with a personal history, motivations, hopes and dreams? It's hard to start with nothing, but by choosing an alignment for your character, you at least have a start. Basically, alignment is a heuristic device for character creation.

Choosing an alignment helps to bring a new character into focus. They become more real, and with this comes real faults. A player who chooses to be a lawful good detective type of character cannot break into a suspect's house and conduct an illegal search, even if they feel like they have good reason to. A truly chaotic evil rogue type character would not be able to work with the local militia to protect the town he lives in, even if it means that the town will be burned to the ground. However, while this is restrictive, it also makes for an interesting narrative. With a well constructed character, the character plays the player just as much as the player plays the character. Creating and exploring the psyche of a fictional character is a large part of the appeal of Dungeons and Dragons.

Superficially, this complexity is lacking in most videogames that are currently on the market. However, just because alignment systems aren't built into the game, doesn't mean that you can't use it as a frame of reference when you are determining how your character will act. Expanding the story beyond the frame of the game requires a personal ownership of narrative and a willingness to value a private gaming experience. What I mean by this is that there is little in-game reward for creating a coherent, and interesting character. You're not going to get a new sword for stepping outside of the lines of moral duality, but you will be able to experience a completely unique game narrative.

Example time. Let's look at Mass Effect, which was a Bioware game put out in 2007 for the XBOX360. In Mass Effect, you assume the role of Commander Shepard, the first human to be elevated to a position of high military authority by a council of aliens. Due to his honored position, Shepard represents humanity on the galactic stage, and his actions determine how the various aliens in the game view humankind. The morality system in the game is split between "Paragon" and "Renegade." Paragon actions are generally polite, altruistic and self-sacrificing. Renegade actions are generally violent, rude and power-hungry. Although this system may appear to be morally dualistic, it can be quite complex if the player allows it. Out of curiosity, I recently replayed Mass Effect with a racist Shepard. I determined that he would favor human life over alien life at all cost. This forced me as a player to change up the way I played the game. As racist Shepard, I always sought non-violent solutions to problems with humans, and always took the most violent options for dealing with aliens. Granted each individual decision I made was a simple choice between paragon and renegade, but when all of these decisions are added up, a new Shepard emerges, a Shepard I never would have thought possible when I first played through the game. Granted I did not like this Shepard. Sure he was lawful, but he was definitely NOT a good guy. He was a total jerk in fact. However, he was much more three-dimensional than the normal errand boy do-gooder that I usually play in these games. Conceivably, I could replay the game in the inverse. I could choose to play Shepard as more of a Kirk or Captain Jack Harkness type of character and try to copulate with every alien I came across while ignoring my responsibilities to humanity.

Another example, this past year a game called Dragon Age: Origins was released, also by Bioware. Dragon Age is branded as a "dark fantasy" meaning that it has all of the swords and spells of your normal fantasy game but with more blood and killing and sex, though not necessarily in that order. Interestingly, Dragon Age encourages the player to fully develop their character's personal history and motivations by starting each character with an "origin" story. The origin story plays a bit like a tutorial for your class and race, but more importantly it situates your character in the gameworld. This way you start with a more complete understanding of who your character is, why they are there, what they have come from and what they aspire to.

On my first playthrough of Dragon Age, I chose to be a human noble warrior. My character was from a wealthy noble family, and he had a fine education in the art of war as well as history and etiquette. However, as the player I decided to make him impatient, bullheaded and cocksure. He was more of a neutral good character. He followed the rules, but only as far as they could get him what he wanted. In my character's origin story, his family castle is sacked by a rival lord, and my character barely flees with his life. I decided that this experience likely hardened him, but that he was still a good man under his tough exterior. I often chose for him to make cold decisions, but he was merciful in a pragmatic sort of way. He always spared the lives of fallen foes, but he rarely went out of his way to help people who were not able to help him. Similarly, he rarely aspired to fully understand the situations that he was in. He saw things the way he wanted to see them, and acted accordingly.

There was absolutely no in-game reward for playing this character this way. At no point did the game say "my you are a consistent role-player, here have a new hat." I strove to create a more interesting character simply so that the game narrative would be more interesting, and you know what, it worked. By evaluating each choice differently according to how my character would respond to the situation, I remained engaged with the game's morality system instead of just automatically clicking on the good guy response or bad guy response.

The thing is that faults and personal moral codes make for interesting characters. What would any Shakespearean tragic hero be without their flaws? What would Picard be without the prime directive? What would Gatsby be without his delusions? Or Batman without his childhood trauma? Morality systems in videogames ask players to make tough decisions, but if those decisions are based purely on getting more bad-guy points or good-guy points then they are meaningless. If you want a more complex game narrative, then you have to put the role-playing back into the RPG. Develop an interesting character, and stick to it. Get in their head, and see how the story changes as a result.

Here are a few ideas for revisiting some old classics:

Try to play any of the Fallout games as a technophobe.

Play Mass Effect as a bloodthirsty imperialist

Play Knights of the Old Republic as a wimp

Play Arcanum as a superstitious industrialist

Pretend that you actually miss your childhood at Candlekeep in Baldur's Gate