by Cuddy, Luke
There Is No “I” in Halo
So what can we say about the psychology of videogame play? The twenty-first century has provided us with novel opportunities for connecting with people from around the globe. The advent of online gaming is no exception as players now have the capability of working with each other rather than in opposition. Although this may be a weak assertion—namely, that games like Halo create opportunities for social interaction—there is a sentiment that technology now allows us a new sense of freedom to behave and project in ways that were once a fantasy. Social profiles need not be accurate and even our pictures are substituted with avatars that may or may not resonate with our personality. In this sense, the eighteenth-century philosopher George Berkeley was right to say that to be is to be perceived. Objects that are judgedd to be true do not refer to external ideas or forms but merely reflect the qualities apprehended by the individual perceiving.
A Halo player’s perception of the reality portrayed in gameplay may manifest itself into a social ignorance—or at worst, apathy—toward genuine conflict in the world—strife in the Middle East and Africa, for example. While Halo may not necessarily amplify this disconnect between the television screen and national news outlets, it could have an adverse effect in the extent to which we seek to escape from the violence and unimaginable tragedies that mar our world. Moreover, the individualistic nature of gaming may unintentionally foster stereotypes about the fabric of our stoic male culture. Strength, aggression, and conflict are guised as hero worship in the figure of Master Chief who stands as the paradigm of the male fantasy. It should come as no shock that many if not most readers of this chapter are likely to be males in the standard marketing demographic of 18–35 years of age. Halo projects a narrative that could be viewed as a reinforcement of stereotypical “boys will be boys” aggression albeit within the confines of your own home. When you lose a mission as Master Chief, it becomes privatized within the confines of your living room.
But the implications do not end with the individual and her perception of reality. The French paleontologist Teilhard de Chardin wrote about the evolution of the universe into what he called the “noosphere,” a realm where all of humanity would participate in a unified identity. This conclusion is called the Omega (referring to the last letter of the Greek alphabet) and points to this coalescence of consciousness which will lead us to a new state of peace and planetary unity:To be fully ourselves it is in the opposite direction, in the direction of convergence with all the rest, that we must advance—towards the ‘other’. The peak of ourselves, the acme of our originality, is not our individuality but our person; and according to the evolutionary structure of the world, we can only find our person by uniting together. There is no mind without synthesis. The same holds good from top to bottom. The true ego grows in inverse proportion to egoism. Like the Omega which attracts it, the element only becomes personal when it universalizes itself.74
Deep, isn’t it? To truly understand ourselves is to grow in relationship with others. The globalization of economics, justice, and social mores exemplifies this increasing interdependency of our world. Some have viewed the Internet as the harbinger of this convergence coming to fruition, as technology has given us the ability to connect and communicate in ways unfathomable even a generation ago. In the context of what we’ve discussed here, we may entertain the idea of unconsciously participating in this evolving connectivity. This idea of the noosphere, albeit esoteric by design, could be the social antidote to the individualism and stoicism that the Halo culture dramatically amplifies.
The Challenge to (Dis)connect
When we immerse ourselves in the electronic world of videogame play, we unconsciously imagine what it would be like to put on the mask of another. The potential danger lies in form of the medium we engage—in this case, our Xbox. When we begin to play there is potentially never a compelling need to end the role playing, save that of going into work or attending class. Like a movie or song on a continual loop, videogame players sometimes struggle with the figurative and literal ability to disconnect. Framed as a metaphysical question, we must consciously return to our true self by being reminded—however deceptively childish it may seem—that it is only a game. This doesn’t negate the fact that we bring a myriad of emotions to the Halo universe. We may feel the compulsion to play after a tiresome day on the job or after a difficult exam for school as a cathartic means of relieving stress or anxiety. On the surface, most would agree this is nothing more than an example of leisure at its finest hour. Nevertheless, the moral question lingering is when and how this form of escapism begins to control us, when the player becomes the played. However, many also play as a means of connecting with others through a shared experience: with all its eccentricities sometimes gaming is merely an opportunity to socialize with and against a familiar backdrop.
I began the chapter with the statement “I am playing Halo” as a way of framing the conscious act of entering into the videogame narrative. A subtle inversion of this line “Halo playing am I” can serve as a summary of the philosophical tenets described above. While resisting the temptation to make a Yoda joke about grammar, we can see that “playing” focuses on the mimicry detailed in Halo whereby imitation allows the psychological space to explore new realities in an embodied character quite apart from our typical mode of existence. The first person singular of “be” is “am” which implies the ontological question of reality. If I am merely mimicking Master Chief, then that still leaves us asking about the nature of our ego. The “I” may never entirely become “that which it plays” but it does raise interesting questions about the state of our (sub)consciousness when we engage the stark realism of twenty-first-century videogames, as opposed to, say, Pong. In the “I” we encounter the problem of self-knowledge which is why we have the tendency to identify with certain characters and the real qualities they embody, albeit in a twenty-sixth-century setting. Consequently, when we say we are playing Halo we just might be saying more about how we project ourselves onto the backdrop of a fantasy world.
Like the final creature caught in Pandora’s Box, at the end of our analysis we are left with hope. Intended to heal the wounds of the soul and body in the infamous Greek myth, hope is a residual theme throughout the Halo franchise. Not merely wish-fulfillment, hope stands in contrast to the threat of nihilism in a world fraught with confusion. Escapism then can be a healthy outlet if the individual is capable of returning to what is truly real. The fantasy of playing the role of Master Chief is only surpassed by the potential reality portrayed in the game itself. The cataclysmic battle over natural resources and technology serve as a reminder that there are genuine threats to civilization on Earth. So while entering this mental arena may not lead to the detriment of our psyche or dramatically impact our outlook on life, it might just be enough to make us reflect about who is in control the next time we hit the start button.75
12
What’s Wrong with Camping?
GALEN A. FORESMAN
Campers are the scourge of multiplayer in First Person Shooters (FPS). The Flood, the alien parasite bent on infecting all sentient life and the central cause in the extinction of vast highly intelligent civilizations, has nothing on these annoyances. Campers are detestable cheaters lacking any complete set of quick response motor skill functionality necessary for honest reticule assassination. They are, in a word, pathetic.
The camper is a player who camps out in a particular position in a multiplayer game that gives her a strategic advantage over other players. The advantage may be defensive positioning, a very useful item drop, or something as simple as the element of surprise. Depending on the type of multiplayer match being played, a camper’s strategy and positioning might change and probably should. This creates a variety of types of camping, each lending themselves to an equally diverse set of evaluations. These evaluations range from “expected” and “legitimate” forms of camping that include acts like guarding the flag in capture-the-flag matches
to more notorious forms of camping like spawn camping, where campers position themselves to eliminate players immediately upon starting or respawning into a game. Given camping’s variety and often polarized evaluation, it is perhaps one of the most hotly contested issues in any multiplayer FPS, so much so that camping has become a central issue in game design.
In competitive multiplayer, first person shooters are dominated by two types of players: those that just said “Amen” to the introduction to this paper, and those that were immediately angered or frustrated by it. The latter group is made up of those that are themselves campers, or those that take a more moderate approach to their overall evaluation of gaming strategies.
But, as we’ll see, the debate about camping is dumb. The vast majority of arguments against camping come from a notion of fair play that has little to do with playing fair at all, but lots to do with being a loser.
Equivocation
Equivocation occurs when a person shifts between the meanings of a word without indicating that they are doing so. Used cleverly, equivocation in humor or artistic allusion can enrich a work. Master Chief John-117 may simply be the generic name given to the protagonist of the Halo series, or John-117 was cleverly chosen because of its allusion to the chapter and verse of the New Testament book John 1:17, an apt contrast to the Covenant dogmatism. Intentionally chosen or coincidence, the ability to equivocate on the origin of John-117 allows for a variety of possible interpretations and story arcs.
Equivocation, unfortunately, is not often encountered in such positive forms. Instead, equivocation often happens in conversations with self-proclaimed know-it-alls who appear to be talking about one thing, but when questioned, shift their position as though they were talking about quite another. Suppose, for example, someone were commenting on the awesome power of the pistol in Halo, and you, knowing a thing or two about the evolution of the pistol in the Halo series—and eager to call out this obvious phony—pressed them on whether they were referring to the M6D or the M6C. If such a conversation were actually to occur like this, and it easily might if you were talking to someone who had only played Halo: Combat Evolved, then your line of questioning would be homing in on this phony’s equivocation of the type of pistol he or she was referring to.
It’s very common to assume you understand what someone means, and it is even more common to do this when you think they’re wrong about something they just said. Suppose that instead of asking the phony which pistol they were referring to you simply argued with them about their claim that the pistol had “awesome power.” You point out to this phony that the pistol is only powerful sometimes, and other times the pistol feels like a worthless lump of crud in your hands. Had you taken this approach to the conversation, you might argue for several pointless minutes and waste valuable breath citing five to ten good examples of how the pistol simply is not all that powerful. And to top it all off, the phony can maintain their facade of fan-boy superiority by concluding the discussion by saying they were only talking about the pistol from the first Halo game (leaving off Combat Evolved entirely from the title!). Because you jumped into the debate without first getting clarity on what this phony meant you allowed someone to talk as though they knew a whole lot more than they actually did. And unfortunately, as soon as you point out how they’re wrong, they can always claim they were only talking about the M6D, not the M6C.
So while equivocation can be used in some really interesting and artistic ways, it’s often also used more nefariously. Those that are ignorant of the truth can use equivocation to retroactively change the meaning of what they said, and those that are interested in manipulating people’s beliefs might use equivocation in their arguments. For our purposes, we want to be clear that we are not equivocating in some way when we evaluate the act of camping and those individuals that love to camp. In order to do this, we will need to be clear about the types of camping we are discussing, and we will need to be clear about the criteria we are using when we evaluate camping.
Camping and Strategy
Camping occurs in several different contexts, and so before we say anything derogatory (or I should say, anything else derogatory) about the camper, we must be clear about the type or types of camping we find offensive. Let’s try a definition. As I said at the outset, campers are those individuals who position themselves in strategic locations during competitive multiplayer games. Of course, camping isn’t simply being strategic in placement, since every player worth their salt attempts to be strategic in how they move about the map. No, camping is different than simply being strategic in positioning yourself in that once a camper finds a strategic location, they pretty much stay there the entire game, or until it’s clear that the strategic advantage of the positioning has been compromised.
Despite the open hostility towards campers, to anyone who uses their brain when they play a game this sounds more or less exactly like how you would want to play an FPS, particularly one that was militarily inspired. After all, soldiers in battle don’t run willy-nilly around a battlefield. They often position themselves in strategic locations, and I have no doubt that when and if wars could be safely won by remaining in these strategic locations, there is no reason to move out of them. Moving around the battlefield is dangerous, and so it is a matter of taking a calculated risk when soldiers are given orders to move. In competitive multiplayer, like that in the Halo series, moving around means taking certain risks. The primary difference between these cases—and we should not gloss lightly over this—is the fact that soldiers in battle are risking far more when they move around than a person playing a game. The risks and advantages of moving are always balanced against the risks and advantages of remaining where you are. If staying where you are presents a very strategic advantage and doesn’t present a very large risk, then you should stay where you are. If, on the other hand, moving proves to be the most strategic thing to do in light of the foreseeable risks, then a person should move.
So when camping out provides a strategic advantage, then it seems like a very reasonable thing to do, almost like the smart thing to do! But camping is also something that we do with good reason, and that reason is to achieve some goal that we have in an FPS. When we start mixing reasons with goals, then we’re on the brink of making evaluations or judgments. Hence, when we describe an activity like camping and we talk about why people camp, it is virtually impossible to do this without incorporating some sort of evaluation. Since our goal here, ultimately, is to evaluate camping, then the reason why a person camps seems to be a perfectly appropriate place to divide up the types of camping.
Camping, Context, and Evaluation
The context or situation in which a player camps determines in part the strategic advantage that camping gives a player. Camping in a particular context is more or less a good idea or a bad idea depending on the degree of advantage granted by the position balanced against the risk of remaining in that position. In capture the flag, camping out by your team’s flag makes it more difficult for the other team to get your flag, and so it’s usually a good idea. In a king-of-the-hill type game, where players earn points by remaining in certain locations for as long as they can, clearly camping out in those locations is a good idea. Alternatively, we can see how camping is a very bad idea when it does not serve to help you achieve your goals, like winning the match. If everyone on a team during a capture the flag match camped out by their own flag, then they would never get the other team’s flag. If both teams did this, then neither team would ever come into contact with their opponent. If you never even see the other team and you never get their flag, then you really can’t win.
This goes to show that camping’s worth or value is wrapped up in the context within which a player camps, and so must our evaluations of camping. Good camping, at its core, involves smart playing given a particular game context, and consequently, bad camping involves dumb playing in a particular game context.
Why then all the bad press for campers? If a person is taking advant
age of a strategic location given the game type, then it seems as if camping is the laudable thing to do. It is, after all, the smart thing to do. Campers should be raised up and held on high as our intellectual superiors! Who cares if it slows down the pace of the game? So what if this leads to stalemates in some game types like capture the flag? Stalemates aren’t caused by anything inherently wrong with camping, are they? It’s perfectly fine and smart if a few people do it, right?
Unfortunately, players do not always understand when camping makes sense and when it doesn’t, and this lack of strategic camping is the cause of much angst. Furthermore, camping may prove to be what is called a “dominant strategy” in some game types like slayer (deathmatch) or team slayer (team deathmatch). A dominant strategy is a strategy employed by a player of a game, because it is the best strategy regardless of what the opponent chooses to do. Dominant strategies and the problems they pose were first systematically discussed by game theorists in applied mathematics, but dominant strategies and game theory are as old as war, economics, and politics. They have been discussed by philosophers for thousands of years, and it applies equally in those cases as it does to competitive multiplayer in FPS.
Suppose there are only two people playing a competitive round of slayer. The strategy to sit and wait for your opponent to appear so that you can surprise and frag them seems preferable—strategically speaking—to the alternative, which is to run around looking for them.76 Your opponent is faced with the same choice, after all, and while you’re running around looking for them, they may be lying in wait to frag you. As a result, two smart players following their individual dominant strategy will camp the whole match and never see the other person. In this case, camping actually undermines the goal of the game, which is to achieve the most frags. By being the best strategy to win the match, it also prevents either player from achieving the goal of the game.