Halo and Philosophy

by Cuddy, Luke

  Niven paints a vivid picture of how incredible one of these ringworlds would be. Since humans have yet to perfect interstellar space travel, it won’t be anytime soon that such a ringworld will actually be discovered (let alone created) outside of a videogame. This makes it all the more cool that the Halo creators borrowed this logically possible construct from a science fiction novel because it gives gamers a chance to see it and explore it via, mostly, Master Chief.

  The candle in Niven’s description is supposed to be a metaphor for a sun, around which the ringworld was constructed. The Halo structures, on the other hand, are not this large. Another precursor to the Halo series in science fiction literature (also influenced by Niven) comes from the British author Ian M. Banks. Banks put out the Culture series of books, which envisions a slightly smaller structure called an “orbital”—probably closer to the Halo structures from the game.

  The opening screen of the first FPS Halo game depicts one of the Halo structures, as originally dreamt up by early sci-fi writers like Larry Niven and Ian M. Banks (Halo: Combat Evolved, 2001).

  For anyone who has read these books, playing Halo for the first time can be pretty darned exciting. Not only do you get to see one possible vision of ringworlds or orbitals, but you get to explore them. After you kill all the Covenant soldiers and escape the Pillar of Autumn via the escape pod, you crash land on the ring in the escape pod. Before the Pillar of Autumn crash lands as well, you see the descent into the atmosphere of the Halo. This is Niven’s and Banks’ vision brought to life.

  While the Halo storyline is certainly not pilfered from Ringworld, there are borrowed elements like a lost ancient superrace who created the rings (The Forerunners) or religiously devout aliens (The Covenant). In fact, someone who believes that the Halo universe is less complex than it is should take a look at the Halo Encyclopedia by DK publishing, which details Halo’s story, backstory, characters, races and much much more.

  There’s a sort of synthesis here between literature and videogames that is often overlooked, or simply not recognized. The concerned parent watching her son splatter aliens all over the wall while he maneuvers through a spacecraft probably doesn’t realize that there are deeper science fiction concepts that underlie the game and the storyline. Understandably, perhaps Halo has an overemphasis on violence that is cause for concern, particularly in the multiplayer element. Nevertheless, the violence issue needs to be put in context before entirely condemning the Halo series on those grounds. After all, we are much more willing to accept violence in other media when it is coupled with something generally viewed as a greater cause (as in Braveheart) or with something that is artistically unique for its time (like Pulp Fiction).

  Another way games and literature interact is through fiction based on a game. Halo the games have spawned Halo fiction. In addition to a trilogy and other books, there is a book of short stories called Halo: Evolutions. The stories in this collection consider perspectives that the game itself does not (or cannot because it would diminish gameplay). One of the authors, Fred Van Lente, shows the reader what it might be like if a team of Spartan’s captured a particular sort of Drone. Karen Traviss speculates on what might go through Cortana’s head when she’s being “invaded” by the Gravemind while waiting for Master Chief to return. And B.K. Evenson imagines the life of a Spartan soldier that does not make it to frontline duty.

  This all shows us the way media interact with other media. Halo borrowed some concepts from science-fiction literature to create their own universe. Then that universe was enhanced by other authors to give players more. And I haven’t even mentioned parts of Halo culture like Red vs. Blue (Peter Ludlow’s chapter in this volume discusses it in detail).

  Why Think about Games?

  When you play games with other people, in many cases, deeper elements of a player’s personality can be revealed—whether it’s your teammate on the wrestling mat or you during a friendly family game of Hearts. It is tempting to see the popular games in any given society as being a good measure of its general values and beliefs. The Romans had large arenas where people competed in games of life and death. Medieval Europeans strategized against each other in chess. At our current place in history, our society values sports and videogames, perhaps, more than any other types of games.

  What underlies questions of whether or not Halo is worthy of philosophical analysis are questions of whether games in general are worthy of such analysis. Are they? Part of understanding videogames is understanding the way they differ from previous media. Roger Ebert, movie critic extraordinaire, recently took a side on the videogames-as-art question, for which he caught a great deal of flak from the gaming community.2 Ebert suggested that, no, videogames are not art, nor will they be art for a very long time (if ever). Without actually disagreeing or agreeing with Ebert (though I have disagreed with him elsewhere), let me make you aware of the way Ebert went about coming to his conclusion. By playing them, you say? Maybe by watching gamers themselves play them? No, he reached his conclusion by watching online clips of some videogames, as noted by journalist Chris Suellentrop.3 If you’re reading this book, I’m assuming you see the problem here—or you at least recognize that there is a problem. As Suellentrop put it, judging games without playing them is something like judging a movie by only listening to the soundtrack.

  When I teach logic, I will customarily spend at least a portion of class going over a logical fallacy called a “straw man.” A straw man happens when someone misinterprets and distorts an idea, concept, argument, or phenomenon and then proceeds to come to a conclusion based on that weak interpretation. For instance, when someone who has never played Halo suggests that the game is nothing but blowing up aliens, it could be considered a straw man. Why? Because the game involves blowing up aliens, but much more—like the storyline or skill. It’s a straw man because the person unfamiliar with Halo focused only on one aspect of the game, and one that is considered negative by many standards, then came to a conclusion (“that’s all Halo is”) prematurely. A straw man is dangerous because there is no reason for us to accept that conclusion (if it’s based on a weak interpretation). You see straw men with extremists all the time: the videogame critic thinks that the bad aspects of games make all videogames bad; the videogame supporter thinks that the good aspects of games make them all good. In order to really understand what’s going on, in order to really appreciate the negative and the positive of some phenomenon, we should be able to give a full and honest interpretation of it. Unfortunately, this doesn’t always happen.

  Surely Ebert’s actions in not actually playing any videogames while coming to conclusions about them represents a generational divide (let’s attribute it to this rather than to an inability to think critically, which Ebert does seem to possess in many of his movie reviews). It probably never occurred to Ebert that he was committing a straw man. The idea of directly interacting with something to experience it rightly (such as while playing a videogame) just never occurred to him because the media that were big in his generation (such as movies and music) do not require that sort of direct interaction. Critics of videogames have their place. I just have one request: do your research. It’s best to understand something before you critique it. Otherwise, you might commit obvious fallacies. Lest we think that games themselves are simplistic or somehow inferior to other media, let’s consider a quote from a book by Ian M. Banks (author of the Culture book series mentioned above). The main character in Banks’s The Player of Games says:“All reality is a game. Physics at the most fundamental level, the very fabric of our universe, results directly from the interaction of fairly simple rules, and chance; the same description may be applied to the best, most elegant and both intellectually and aesthetically satisfying games. By being unknowable, by resulting from events which, at the subatomic level cannot be fully predicted, the future remains malleable, and retains the possibility of change, the hope of coming to prevail; victory, to use an unfashionable word. In this, the future is a game;
time is one of the rules.” (p. 48)

  In the book, Banks envisions a highly advanced society called the “Culture” where game players (not just athletes) are well respected and held in awe. This is because, as the quote implies, this society sees games as more than mere entertainment. Games are something “elegant” and “aesthetically satisfying.” Our society doesn’t see them that way now, but maybe someday it will.

  All of this is to say that Halo is worthy of philosophical investigation. It’s taken some of its best elements from award-winning science fiction; it’s created a storyline that raises questions about religious devotion, war, morality, and more; it’s a videogame which are, more and more, becoming staples of our society; and it engenders deeper questions that are explored by contemporary science fiction authors via Halo fiction.

  This Book and Its Chapters

  This book is set up according to levels of difficulty, as the Halo games are. Don’t assume, however, that the Easy(er) section will be a breeze. One of the reasons I’ve added the “er” is to suppress this assumption. The chapters in this section deal with some subject matter that is a bit easier to understand than the subsequent sections, but this doesn’t mean it’s easy in itself. For many people, philosophy is difficult in general. There, you’ve been warned. The subsequent sections grow in difficulty as you might expect. Still, if you are interested in a particular chapter, we can’t stop you from turning straight to it.

  In terms of the Halo universe, this book focuses on the three primary Halo games—Halo: Combat Evolved, Halo 2, and Halo 3—as well as the expansion Halo 3: ODST and the prequel Halo: Reach (but some of the chapters were written before the release of Halo: Reach, so it therefore wasn’t possible to discuss it). Consequently, Master Chief is the main protagonist under discussion. This book also touches on the Halo backstory, fiction, and other Halo culture.

  The authors consider the following questions:• Are campers really doing anything wrong?

  • Does Halo’s music match the experience of the gamer?

  • Would Plato have used Halo to train citizens to live an ethical life?

  • What sort of Artificial Intelligence exists in Halo and how is it used?

  • Can the player’s experience of war tell us anything about actual war?

  • Is there meaning to Master Chief’s rough existence?

  • How does it affect the player’s ego if she identifies too strongly with an aggressive character like Master Chief?

  • Is Halo really science fiction?

  • Can Halo be used for enlightenment oriented thinking in the Buddhist sense?

  • Does Halo’s weapon limitation actually contribute to the depth of the gameplay?

  • When we willingly play Halo only to die again and again, are we engaging in some sort of self-injurious behavior?

  • What is expansive gameplay and how can it be informed by the philosophy of Michel Foucault?

  • In what way does Halo’s post apocalyptic paradigm force gamers to see themselves as agents of divine deliverance?

  • Who is Master Chief really, and what can Red vs. Blue teach us about personal identity?

  Don’t expect a conclusive answer to every question! If you do, you will drastically misunderstand philosophy. Philosophy does sometimes answer questions, but often philosophy is about simply pondering and exploring ideas, advancing general knowledge when possible, and enjoying the ride. As the subtitle of this book implies, evolve your intellect with this book the way you evolve your combat in Halo.

  Easy . . . er

  1

  Who Is Master Chief?

  JOYCE C. HAVSTAD

  When you play Halo, you get to be Master Chief. But so does everyone else who plays Halo. Think about how many people are playing the game at this very moment—how many Master Chiefs are there right now? Now think about how many people have played any version of the game, all around the world, and ever since Halo: Combat Evolved first came out—how many Master Chiefs have there been, ever?

  The Halo nation is incredibly vast; the number of Master Chiefs must be huge as well. Approximately six and a half million units of Halo: Combat Evolved were sold in the last decade. Add to that eight and a half million units of Halo 2 and another nine and a half million units of Halo 3, and there have been almost twenty-five million units of the original trio of Halo games sold.4 Even if only one person played the campaign of each unit of the game just once, there would still have been at least twenty-five million Master Chiefs.

  So, who is Master Chief, really? Out of the millions of Master Chiefs that there have been, which one is the real one? Or, are all of them him? And what does the actual Master Chief look like? He is almost always wearing his helmet, so no one ever really gets to see his face, although the Halo novels do occasionally provide scant physical descriptions. For example, in Halo: The Flood, Master Chief is described as quite tall and muscular even without his armor, having serious eyes and strong features.5 The most detailed facial description of the character occurs in Halo: The Fall of Reach. But this novel begins when Master Chief is just a young boy, named John, with brown hair and freckles.6

  When he’s six years old, John is one of seventy-five children snatched from their homes by the United Nations Space Command (UNSC) and replaced with clones. The originals begin the training and enhancement that turns them into Spartans, cybernetically enhanced supersoldiers. And John, the young boy with brown hair and freckles, gradually becomes Master Chief Petty Officer John-117. The clones take the place of the originals, living in their homes and with their parents. So now, there are not just millions of Master Chiefs, but also at least two Johns. Which John is the real one? The clone, living in John’s house with John’s parents and being raised as John by people who believe he is John? Or the original, who is stolen from his home, numbered John-117, molded into a supersoldier, given growth hormone, physically augmented, linked with an AI, and who never returns to his parents or the place he was born?

  Philosophers have puzzled for centuries over what makes and keeps a thing the particular thing that it is, and what makes someone stay the same person despite the many changes they experience in their life. This is despite the fact that identity seems like a straightforward, simple concept. And most people, not being fictional characters, having distinct faces, and not having been cloned, are not particularly complicated cases. Most people are nonfictional, have recognizable faces, and only one body. But Master Chief is different for all three of these reasons. In the real world, he is incarnated in many minds and on many screens. And his MJOLNIR armor is more recognizable than his actual physical features. Finally, even within the Halo universe, he is something of a copy of himself. He has been cloned at least once and frozen several times. For players of Halo, Master Chief is constantly resurrected. And for all of these reasons, understanding what generates and sustains Master Chief’s identity is an especially tricky question.

  The Same but Different

  Identity is the relation that a thing has with itself. To say that something is identical is to say that it’s the same. But things can also retain their identity over time, despite going through changes. For example, Master Chief is still Master Chief when he departs from the Covenant city-ship High Charity, despite leaving Cortana behind and going on without his AI. Master Chief goes through this and many other changes throughout his experiences in the series of Halo games, but he is still Master Chief. How does this work?

  The possibility of identity over time is confusing, since the idea of identity seems like one of sameness, but it can also encompass difference. As a result of this complexity, questions about identity over time go back at least two thousand years. In philosophy, paradoxes are often used to demonstrate the puzzles inherent in seemingly obvious notions like identity.

  One of the most famous paradoxes of the philosophical world is recounted by Plutarch, a Greek historian who lived in the first century. Plutarch is most remembered for his work Parallel Lives, a series o
f brief but insightful biographies of important figures in Greek and Roman history. The earliest “life” is that of Theseus, the hero who fought the Minotaur of King Minos on the island of Crete and who was the mythical founder of the unified Athens. In his description of the life of Theseus, Plutarch writes that:The ship wherein Theseus and the youth of Athens returned had thirty oars, and was preserved by the Athenians down even to the time of Demetrius Phalereus, for they took away the old planks as they decayed, putting in new and stronger timber in their place, insomuch that this ship became a standing example among the philosophers, for the logical question of things that grow; one side holding that the ship remained the same, and the other contending that it was not the same.7

  In other words, the philosophers considered the case of Theseus’s ship, and the fact that perhaps all of it had been replaced over time, and wondered whether it was really still Theseus’s ship. They asked: was the ship’s identity the same, despite the many changes that it had undergone? This paradox is known as The Ship of Theseus or Theseus’s Ship.

  Many centuries later, the British philosopher Thomas Hobbes complicated the matter even further. Hobbes is mostly remembered for Leviathan, his 1651 work of political philosophy. But in a later work, Elementorum philosophiae sectio prima De corpore (more commonly known simply as De Corpore or On the Body), Hobbes discusses the original paradox of Theseus’s Ship and then adds to it:Take the well-known example of Theseus’s ship, which the sophists of Athens argued about long ago. The argument was about the difference between the original ship, and the one which was gradually remade through the continuous replacement of old planks by new ones. After all the planks had been replaced, was it numerically identical with the original ship? But if someone had preserved the old planks as soon as they were removed, and had later made a new ship by putting the preserved planks back again in the same arrangement, there is no doubt that this would be numerically identical with the original ship. We would then have two numerically identical ships, which is absolutely absurd. (Section 7, Chapter 11, Part 2)8