Showing posts with label characters. Show all posts
Showing posts with label characters. Show all posts

March 26, 2012

The white cloak

This is the lesson I learned on my voyage through thatgamecompany's superb friendship generator and awe machine Journey.

During the story of Journey, Great Ancestors, clad in shimmering white and gold, tell your character about the world's history and, I presume, the meaning of your travels. The story is relayed with mural-like cutscenes consisting of simple pictures full of symbols and vaguely recognizable elements from the world.


The point the ancestors are trying to make gets across to you eventually in some form, but very likely only after repeated playthroughs, and even then it’s difficult to decode their message with any degree of certainty. For beings of an advanced civilization that’s some pretty ineffective communication. But then, it's the same vagueness that has ailed ancestors and advanced beings in fiction for ages.

God never spoke especially clearly in the Bible, Gandalf knew a lot more about the world than he let anyone in The Lord of the Rings ever know, and Kosh rarely spoke at all in Babylon 5. It's the part played by all manner of precursors and advanced entities in fiction. Superior beings rarely impart knowledge in sensible manner and verbosity. For all their eminence, they communicate rather poorly.

I've always wondered about that. I mean, god, God, spill the beans already if you want us to follow your plans.


In Journey, all characters start out looking the same. They have a red cloak, a red hood and red clothes. At some point they get a scarf, the length of which varies throughout the game. But in essence, all travellers look the same.

Until you finish your journey, that is. When you start a new journey, your character's cloak has more embroideries than it did before. In practice this means you can tell how experienced someone is by looking at the decorations of their cloak.

At first all the characters were equal. Equally lost, equally bewildered and equally clad. But it wasn't long until everyone changed. Soon the little travellers had capes full of ornaments and everyone knew at first sight who was and who wasn't on their first trip to the mountain.


During the travels you find symbols, little glowing things that make your scarf longer. Once you've found all of these, you unlock an option to change your cloak from red to white. After changing the color of the cloak, your little traveller bears a striking resemblance to the ancestors.

Also, from that point on, it’s obvious to everyone travelling with you that you're no mere enthusiast, retaking the trip to the mountain: You're someone who knows the game's secrets in and out. You're akin to the ancestors in look and in knowledge. You know things a common traveller doesn't.

And wandering around in my white cloak, looking like an ancestor, made me understand.

I had become a God, a Gandalf, a Kosh. I was a being of superior knowledge, empowered with the ability, and responsibility, of sharing it.

I could lead my companion to every secret in the desert, show every trick I know, and in doing that pass on my full knowledge. But in doing that I would also rob them of an important experience. I would rob them of their own journey and discovery. They would learn everything and learn nothing. In a game like Journey the, well, journey is more important than the destination. And I would take that away if I taught my red-cloaked friends all the rules.


So I became vague. I led less-experienced companions near secrets, but didn't always reveal them. I hinted and suggested. Sometimes they discovered the hidden delight. Sometimes I let them run past it even when they were close to a discovery. I would make sure they found something new on their trip; maybe a wall glyph they meant to run past or a scarf symbol they clearly missed. But I let them miss just as many.

And now I know. I know the weight of holding back. Of making a journey worthwhile by being obscure and vague. Of holding yourself back so someone else could grow.

I have become a God, a Gandalf, a Kosh. I have become an ancestor, and I only speak in riddles.

January 23, 2012

Characters in translation – Waka, the gods' gift to man

We write a lot about video game characters. And with good reason, seeing how characters are pretty essential to games. But something that’s surprisingly often left out of the ponderings is the staggering influence translation and localization have on characters.

Now, sure, we write about the version of the game we’ve played and to hell with the rest. It doesn’t matter what this or that JRPG character is like in the Japanese version, when the product we’re scrutinizing is, for example, in English. It just isn’t practical to try and include every version imaginable into one’s reading of a game and its characters. And that’s all fine and good.

Yet, I argue taking at least a cursory glance at how characters are portrayed in the original work, and in what way they fit the cultural paradigms of their origins, offers valuable context for understanding the characters and the intentions of their designers. To see what aspects of the character originate from the translation and localization is often of immense help.


To use an example, think about Waka from Clover Studio’s Ōkami. Waka is a recurring antagonist and a key NPC in the game. Shrouded in mystery and unanswered questions he appears from time to time to deal vague prophecies, look cool and act weird.

In Waka’s case the key difference in characterization, the thing that is most affected by the translation, is how he speaks. In the English version Waka speaks an odd mixture of languages and tones that can be summed up in four categories:

1) Standard English
2) Pompous “Ye Olde” English
3) English slang / Informal English
4) Simple French

The different speech quirks are demonstrated as soon as Waka makes his first appearance in the game. His first lines of dialogue are:

Hark! The call of the heavens, the earth, the sea... They summon me forth to defeat evil! Waka, the gods' gift to man, is here! Bonjour!

That crimson shading and Divine Instrument on your back... You look kinda weird, but I reckon you pack a punch, baby.

First you have “Hark!” and “forth”, clear allusions to old-fashioned grammar and wording. Then there’s “Bonjour!”, which is a jarring departure from the style the rest of the line has, but at the same time is simple enough to be understood by anyone playing the game regardless of their fluency in French. And, finally, for the English slang category, we have words such as “kinda” and “baby”.

All of these special styles are cocooned in a safe wrapping of standard English, most plainly evident in the expository bit that follows the previous two lines:

Oui! This is how I get my point across, pun intended... The moment the cursed zone started spreading across Nippon, I saw the shadowy figure that removed the sacred sword Tsukuyomi flee into Kamiki Village and seal the entrance with a huge rock. You guys know anything about that?

These four levels of speech lead to a somewhat messy characterization that portrays Waka as a wise (albeit pompous) sage, a cool and wildly anachronistic bad boy, a mysterious stranger speaking a foreign language, and an all-round average guy who happens to know a lot about everything. With all these more or less conflicting ingredients, Waka’s dialogue conveys a very mixed character. The longer Waka stays on the screen the harder he is to make sense of. It’s impossible to tell which of the different speech patterns are his “real” ones. The gimmicks, when used as often as they are, undermine his characterization rather than support it.

Compare that to the original rendition of Waka, or Ushiwaka, as he is called in the Japanese version, who in his first lines says:

天呼ぶ 地呼ぶ 海が呼ぶ…
The heaven calls, the earth calls, the sea calls...
物の怪 倒せと 我を呼ぶ!
"Defeat the mononoke!" they ask me
人倫の伝道師 ウシワカ イズ ヒア!
The messenger for humankind, Ushiwaka, is here!

その 深紅の隈取
Those crimson markings
そして その身に 粧し込んだ 神の器…
And that divine instrument you are wearing...
なるほど 傾いた ルックスだけど
I see. It looks weird, but
その実力は 本物かな …ベイベィ?
Could its power be real... Baby?
(Kudos to my illustrous spouse for the quick & literal-ish translation)

His first line, the one about the heaven, the earth and the sea, is pompous, definitely, but it lacks the “ye olde” connotation the harks and the forths have in the English translation. It’s simply pompous, in a dramatic and silly way. He wraps the line by saying “... is here!”. And he really does say that. As in, he says it in English which, after the pompous start, is an obvious comedic twist, utilizing an anachronistic surprise. He does it again at the end of his second line with the somewhat mind-boggling “Baby?”. It’s not just that he says baby, something that in itself would be plenty odd, but it’s framed as a question, and as a sign of hesitation.

Further examples of his English quirks later on in the same scene include his use of the word ユーたち which combines the English “you” with he standard Japanese plural suffix “-tachi”, used when referring to Amaterasu and Issun, and the way he starts his first fight against Amaterasu by exclaiming レッツ ロック ベイビィ!, Let’s rock baby!

Waka talks in a funny way, and his dialogue shifts between pompous, neutral and weird, but there is a certain consistency to it. Where the English translation has four levels of tones in these first bits of dialogue, the original version only really has three. That’s only one level less, granted, but the internal consistency between pompous Japanese, standard Japanese and English gimmicks makes the Japanese Waka a totally different character from his English counterpart. He’s more... whole, I suppose. He swings between fairly normal Japanese and catchphrase-like English weirdness, forming a clearly defined juxtaposition that is occasionally spiced up with more pompous bits.

The translation obviously cannot (and indeed should and could not) include all the nuances of the original, and while I’m somewhat disappointed in the chaotic potpourri that is Waka’s translated dialogue, I still think it’s actually done pretty well, all things considered. It just isn’t what the original Waka is.

What’s important here is that Waka, really, isn’t the character we outside of Japan think he is. Or rather that he is, but when we discuss Waka what we really mean is the translated Waka – a character quite removed from the original one.

I’m not arguing we should always check the translations and see what the characters originally were like. But I do stress that if we want a deeper understanding of a character, we should pay at least some heed to its original form and characterization, if only for context...

Baby?

August 26, 2011

The leading man

This is an ode to Balthier, the leading man of Final Fantasy XII.

I may have lied. This not really an ode. And Balthier isn't really the leading man of Final Fantasy XII. But he almost was, and he almost is, and this may be an ode to him after all.

Anyway.

Balthier remains my favourite character from Final Fantasy XII and he is also one of my favourite FF characters of all time. But why? Let's find out!

"Hmph. I daresay I've soiled my cuffs. If a dungeon's waiting for us at the end of the night, it had best have a change of wardrobe."

An important factor in Balthier's lure is the overall quality of Final Fantasy XII's game design. Despite numerous shortcomings it's truly a great game. The mechanics work well and give the player a lot of space to experiment. I think Margaret Robertson's post Final Fantasy XII, Wasting your time the scientific way over at the late Offworld blog sums up a lot of what's so great about the game. Specifically this passage hits very close to home:

Simply getting to watch a complex and beautiful machine do its stuff is captivating. What FFXII does is give you the chance to build that machine, and then stand by like proud parent and watch it go. Tweaking Gambits lets you take incremental steps towards perfection. Each time you try a new technique or set a new priority you get closer to the ultimate goal of being a perpetual killing machine, a super-efficient, zero-emission, friction-free engine of domination.

That's the very essence of what's so great about the game's mechanics. They are crunchy and tangible. The mechanics are not just sets of causes and effects running in the background, smoothed and simplified for the player's convenience. No, the core of the game's mechanics are felt viscerally at every junction, and are open for the players to experiment with.

The most tangible of the mechanics is the Gambit System: the programmable battle AI you endow each of your characters with. Through the Gambit System, the player has total control over what each party member will do in almost any given situation. You can create a Vaan who charges head-on towards any enemy, or a sly and ruthlessly effective Balthier who stays back and rains down barrage after barrage of projectiles and magic upon the monsters. Or you can equip Balthier with a gigantic hammer and have him smash monsters left and right at the head of your party. There are guidelines, sure, but very few hard limits. Through the License Board, a character advancement system of a sort, the characters can be further modified to your liking. My Balthier, for example, leaned rather heavily on strong magic and healing spells instead of raw physical strength and attack skills.

What the Gambit System and License Board do is they allow you to add your own flair to the predetermined characterization of the party members. And that's important! Player input is important in player-character interaction in all games, but it's especially important in FFXII because of the way the game's story is shaped and told. FFXII places emphasis on an epic story, operating on a scale that doesn't really include the characters. The characters of FFXII can seem distant because - unlike most other Final Fantasies - the game's story is not really about them. It's about bigger things, events of glacial scale and framing. The characters are merely operators in a chain of events so large that their individual story arcs tend to get lost in all the drama. In short, they are not driving the story.

The malleable nature of the characters is certainly something that makes Balthier, Vaan and the rest of the gang feel a lot more personal and distinct. The way they are open to player modification makes them more real, more defined. A very good case in point is Penelo. She is a nice addition to the party, but since I had no great interest in her as a character (and neither did the developers, if screen time and characterization are anything to go by), she would have remained totally uninteresting for my whole playthrough had I not had the option to actively create some personality for her through the Gambit System and License Board. True, even then she's merely a fun customizable doll to hang gambits on, which is not a very flattering thing to say of a character, but nevertheless the game mechanics managed to make her interesting even when her fundamental characterization didn't. The mechanics elevated Penelo enough to make her memorable, which shows just how powerful a tool player input can be when used for characterization. Making an unappealing character into an enjoyable one via game-mechanically enabled player-driven characterization is quite a feat.

But then, Balthier has something more to him. Something that makes him more than simply game-mechanically enjoyable. To find what that is, we have to look past the mechanics and observe him in the context of story and narrative.

There's a very persistent character role in many of the Final Fantasy games, as well as in many other games. The role most likely has a sprawling entry over at TV Tropes (everything does), but I've accustomed to calling it the Second Man. I use the word "man" because, at least in Final Fantasy, it's usually a male character that holds this position, and also because the role is most often filled with someone whose characterization leans quite heavily on the character traits often associated with masculinity and manliness.

A character occupying the position of the Second Man acts as a compliment to the leading character. They might be physically more powerful than the lead character (at least in the beginning of the game) and act as kind of mentors and teachers, but also as friends and accomplices. In a sense the Second Man is often someone well-informed of things such as the game world and the game's mechanics. Second Men are at times used to provide tutorials and act as stand-ins for the game developers, pushing the player character forward wherever and whenever needed. Of course, as the game progresses, the influence of the Second Man tends to wane somewhat. The exact role and function of a Second Man varies from game to game, though, so this is not really a very tightly defined character type.

The most stereotypical Second Men in past Final Fantasies are by and far Zell from FFVIII and Wakka from FFX. They both represent the "jock". A sporty, somewhat slow guy with a lot of power and a heart of gold. Final Fantasy VII's Barret also exhibits very similar tendencies, acting as a boisterous employer-come-sidekick. And of course there's also FFXIII's Snow, the insufferable lump of a bro-dude who would surely be the most hated character of FFXIII if not for Vanille. In essence, the Second Man is the stereotypical alpha male of the player party, who is usually shadowed by the less stereotypically masculine (and, as time goes by, more powerful) player character. The player character, in the end, has more control and authority, but the Second Man tends to act bossy, especially early on in the game. (As an interestign side note: The relationship between the player character and the Second Man often borders very close to the tsukkomi/boke dichotomy of Japanese comedy.)



The Second Men vary greatly, but what remains the same is the role they play in the player's party. The Second Man is someone who is almost as cool as the protagonist, but with either under- or over-developed characteristics that mark them as less desirable (or perhaps less identifiable, as the two so often go hand in hand). Zell is noisy and seems to irritate great many of his peers, and Wakka has enthusiasm to spare but is gleefully simple-minded, for example.

The Second Men seem to be catalysts for doing various things. They rush out to meet impossible odds, they don't believe in things they see, or they believe in them blindly. They are all about doing, going and moving, and are determined to drag the player character with them. (The same also goes in reverse: in games where the PC is rushing straight into danger, Second Men tend to be cynical and doubtful, balancing the lead character's youthful enthusiasm with a more reserved composition.) In a sense, the Second Men are very straightforward simplifications; characters that resist becoming full and rounded because they are created with only the very simplest of outlines in mind.

Balthier should be FFXII's Second Man. But he isn't. He's as close to a Second Man as it gets in FFXII, yet he isn't one. (You could, of course, argue it's actually Basch who is the Second Man of FFXII. I think he's too detached from Vaan and, well, from everything else as well to fill that role, but I admit he exhibits some of the relevant characteristics.) Balthier is impulsive, rash, and is overly eager to make the jump to the unknown. But where the Second Man tends to be almost-but-not-quite as cool as the protagonist, Balthier is actually totally on par with Vaan. Balthier's impulsiveness has a dangerous, calculating flair to it: he's not just doing whatever he thinks is for the best, he actually has a plan. In FFXII Vaan is the one who wants to blindly crash into danger, and Balthier is the one who, though entirely as eager, actually seems to be in some control of the situation. Yet Balthier isn't really the kind of cynical reverse-type of Second Man described earlier, either. He is far too involved and active (or optimistic) for that. His eagerness matches Vaan's, and rather than acting in a complimentary role he always seems to be stealing Vaan's show, vying for the title of the, in his own words, leading man. Or, in more game-mechanical terms, Balthier is constantly aiming to become the player character.

All in all, it's an interesting (and long-due!) role-reversal where the archetype of the Second Man is broken and reconfigured, and also where the protagonist's traditional position as the supreme hero is challenged.


Vaan: Who are you?
Balthier: I play the leading man, who else?

It's this play between Vaan and Balthier, and their relation to the status of leading character, that makes up for a large part of FFXII's, and Balthier's, allure. Vaan is of course the real intended main character of the story. His point of view is the one the story follows and his journey from a street urchin to an almost real sky pirate is the most obvious character development arc in the game (though Ashe's travails easily match Vaan's). But while Vaan is the intended protagonist, Balthier doesn't come very far behind. He takes the lead as often as Vaan, Ashe and Basch do, and in terms of characterization, he isn't at all behind the others. Though the limelight belongs to Vaan and Ashe, Balthier contributes to the story in notable quantities.

Vaan and Balthier work remarkably differently as characters, however. The traditional FF hero is someone who sets out to do something (Cloud hired by the Avalanche, Squall graduating and getting work, Tidus enlisting as Yuna's bodyguard), and ends up tangled in something a lot bigger (Cloud with Sephiroth and the whole identity-shaking business, Squall with evil sorceresses and forgotten pasts, and Tidus preparing to destroy Sin and, ultimately, facing his father). The basic story is about increased personal investment (Cloud transforming from a cold mercenary to someone who actually cares about people and the planet, Squall finding ways to communicate with other people and trust them, and Tidus solving his father issues), and is usually related to the deepening relationship between the male and female leads (Aeris as the sort of a personification of the Planet, Rinoa getting involved with the power struggle of the sorceressess and otherwise in need of rescue as well, Yuna's travel becoming more emotional along the way as the true element of sacrifice is revealed).

What's common with many of the FF plots is that the protagonist sets out to do something that leads them into getting drawn sort of accidentally to the tumults of the actual, bigger, plot. The protagonists develop stronger resolve and reason for their actions only after the plot has significantly advanced.

Final Fantasy XII does things differently. Vaan goes against the prior protagonist model in that he is actually very determined to fight the empire from the beginning. He doesn't need to be drawn into anything bigger because he is already actively seeking out trouble. Vaan has his reasons for getting invested: he hates the Empire and probably harbours something of a crush for Ashe, too (even if that doesn't go anywhere). For Vaan, the whole business with the Venat and Occuria is a tangent blossoming out of the overarching narrative about warring nations. Vaan starts out with smaller goals and gets drawn to the big mysteries only later on, sure, but defeating the spooky god-creatures and their control over Ivalice is penultimate to defeating Vayne and stopping the threat of war, and freeing Dalmasca from the long period of occupation. Vaan's ambitions, desires and goals need not change during the story. Vaan need not change as the result of his actions, nor of the actions of others.

"I’m only here to see how the story unfolds. Any self-respecting leading man would do the same." -Balthier's answer to Basch as to why he's tagging along.

Balthier on the other hand does the classic FF protagonist thing by having initially no great interest in the central plot elements, but getting dragged along nevertheless. Whereas Vaan is motivated by his inner desire to topple the empire, protect the people and so on, Balthier is in it for loot and adventure, and only later admits that things are getting personal as well as professional. His sky pirate bravado starts to crack when the plot arc with his father is introduced, and at the end of the game he is obviously a changed man, though still retains much of his bombastic ways. To writ, Vaan has an agenda, while Balthier just tags along on somebody else's quest. Balthier's initial agenda is something totally unrelated to the story at large (he's out lootin'), and his investment in the game's plot deepens as he becomes more emotionally attached to the other party members, and as his personal past is revealed and linked with the main storyline. In terms of their place in the narrative of FFXII, and in the context of traditional FF leads, Balthier reminds a PC a lot more than Vaan does.

All along while playing Final Fantasy XII, I had the feeling that Vaan was the one in whose place I inserted myself, the one through whom I operated in the game world, the interface if you will, and Balthier was the one I emotionally related to. Balthier, as a character, is a lot more resolved and stern than Vaan. Vaan has the drive and motivation to challenge the Empire, yet Balthier is the one I felt most strongly drawn to. In cut-scenes, Balthier seems to be the one who comments on things, whereas Vaan is used mostly when someone has to say something obvious or funny, or when the occasion clearly calls for the player character to participate in the action. In a sense, Balthier was what I expected from the protagonist of a Final Fantasy game, and Vaan was more of a... I don't know, a viewpoint?

This whole Vaan/Balthier thing and FFXII having a binary lead character dynamic shouldn't of course come as a surprise. When Final Fantasy XII was in the early days of development, Balthier was actually going to be the main character. As the legend goes, it was thought that Balthier was too mature for the core audience of FF, so they made him into a party member and created Vaan to answer the needs of the hypothetical average FF fan. Apparently one of the arguments flinged over the desk when Balthier was axed was that Vagrant Story didn't do particularly well. Except it kind of did, but maybe it didn't do, you know, Final Fantasy well. And Vagrant Story definitely had a more mature protagonist, who, now that I think about it, bears some resemblance to Balthier, even though their personalities are very different. The executives mused that having a more mature lead would cause less than optimal sales, and so Balthier had to go, being replaced by a younger, more feminine hero. I don't know how much of this is true. The developers have been vague about the particulars of the game's troubled development, and all I know are bits and pieces of information the real validity of which I have no means of checking. It seems legit, anyway, but should be taken with a pinch of salt.

Despite the game design drama, Vaan and Balthier actually compliment each other very handsomely. Whether it's an accident caused by the divided protagonist creation process or an intended dynamic, Vaan and Balthier really feel like two different sides of one character. They are essentially the one and the same, only tuned differently. Vaan is nothing more and nothing less than a younger, less experience Balthier. Vaan has the ambition and panache of Balthier, but lacks Balthier's finesse. Balthier has more cunning, more self-restraint and more sense than Vaan, but he still retains Vaan's boyish charm and impulsiveness, even if it is lined with a cynical edge.

In Final Fantasy XII's character dynamics, Balthier is more like the traditional leading character and Vaan is more like the enthusiastic Second Man, yet the game would suffer if either character was missing, or their roles reversed. It's interesting! And fresh in the context of Final Fantasy!


"Princess! No need to worry. I hope you haven't forgotten my role in this little story. I'm the leading man. You know what they say about the leading man: he never dies."

The final component that makes Balthier into something more than just another character in the player party is the game's writing, and the way it fits with all the other elements of the game.

Final Fantasy XII has superb writing. Yes, the plot is kind of iffy on more than one occasion, and many of the characters are either vague non-characters or totally irrelevant for both the plot and the player. But the overall epic yarn is sound, and though the characters remain secondary to the scenery and to the greater plot structures, they nevertheless are written pretty well. I simply enjoy learning new things about them, and I love to hear what they have to say about the world they live in.

The dialogue flows easily and the inter-party dynamics, though limited, offer insight and enjoyment. But what this has to do with Balthier, really, is that the game's good writing is especially obvious in his characterization. The clash of protagonists is cleverly written into his character: Balthier is conscious of his position as Vaan's rival in the race for protagonisthood, which is evident in his habit of constantly emphasising himself as the leading man during cut-scenes. The plot's reluctance to elevate any of the characters to the status of a clearly defined protagonist only lends more power to Balthier's bravado. His act is not merely cocky egocentrism, but actually an honest attempt at fulfilling the one role clearly missing from the game. He doesn't fill it, of course, but the attempt sure warms my heart. Seeing the game acknowledge Balthier's aspirations compliments both the game's overall writing as well as Balthier as a character.

The previous 3000 words essentially boil down to three primary reasons for why I like Balthier:

  • He has the support of an innovative game design which allows players to experience the kind of Balthier they want.
  • He surrenders to a delicious competition with Vaan for the role of the game's protagonist.
  • He has backup from the game's writing that seamlessly meshes with the aforementioned vying for protagonisthood.

In short, Balthier has a strong personality backed up by the game's story and endorsed by the game's mechanics. He broke free from the traditional supporting role he apparently was meant to inhabit, and managed to settle himself somewhere between the Second Man and the Protagonist. Obviously I like his personal history and overall character design too, but what truly makes him stand out is the way he has unhinged some of the most entrenched tropes of Final Fantasy.

Despite all his bravado, Balthier isn't the leading man of Final Fantasy XII, not really. But that's exactly what makes him so interesting. He almost was, and he almost is, and that uncertainty is one of the most titillating experiences game characters have ever given me.