I’m not sure why I always seek out relationships in video games. Most modern RPGs offer the expected prospects: a punk chick from a poor family, the gorgeous affluent woman and the dreamy male soldier. Whatever the choices may be, my characters constantly pursue someone. Usually I’ll work through a pairing as fast as possible in hopes of viewing that ever-so-sexy virtual contact that sort of resembles two blocky rectangles snuggling.
Over the past few days I’ve tried to ponder why such an arbitrary virtual infatuation seems so engaging to me. It could be because I’ve been single for almost a year and a half now (although, there’s little pleasure in pretending to act out my fairly barren love life through some onscreen creation). Most characters act as ciphers, allowing you to channel your own persona in any way possible. It sounds silly, but if I’m envisioning myself as that character, there’s no way I wouldn’t chase after the reporter in “Mass Effect” constantly asking for “exclusive access.” Subtlety isn’t exactly the medium’s strongpoint.
The pervasiveness of romance options is supposed to help better realize the social realities of an oftentimes unrealistic scenario. Offering lesbian and gay options has been a pleasant trend that helps buck a tad bit of the bro-meathead mentality that still swirls over most modern releases. Since I’m straight, I never choose to chase those scenarios and I think that my rationale behind that stems from my innate sense to play games purely as the developers intended.
Finding game-breaking bugs or silly animation cycles is incredibly unappealing to me. It shatters the illusion. It’s an old cliché to say video games offer some cathartic release from everyday stresses. Tired as the saying may be, it’s how I like to play my games. If I’m willing to lose myself in some virtual excursion before me, it’s hard not to transpose my own personality onto the game’s characters.
Part of that personality includes the deeply engrained idea that acquiring a relationship is one of the more momentous moments of our existence. Even in grade school, everyone had their specific crush they called boyfriend or girlfriend despite doing nothing but extolling the cuteness of a crush to friends. Later, you could chase someone for weeks, looking for even the tiniest hint that perhaps they’re into you. Trepidation prefaces pleasure as you ask someone to go steady.
The entire rigmarole inspires such a wide range of emotions, it’s strange to envision a typical character simply ignoring such a central tenet of society. Games are full of bombastic scenarios defying any sense of realism. Latching onto a significant other is one of the few grounded applications of true societal norms that can translate into a virtual space.
If I do spend all that time looking for a significant other, why is the sex so hilariously unsatisfying? Well, besides the fact every single scene I’ve watched looks like some uncoordinated reindeer slowly fondling one another with their hooves. Oftentimes, that stupid scene is really all I’m working towards. I spend hours going through asinine dialogue options and all I get is a lousy cut-scene.
Yet I keep going back to the well, looking for anyone else who might want a piece of my character’s ever flowing sex drive. Is this what I deem happiness—some archetypal hero finally bagging the beautiful dame that accompanies him? Or is it just because that’s the way I feel the story should go? I’ve been trained that the hero always gets the girl. Maybe next time I’ll just let him try out celibacy for a bit.
Sometimes I wish the actual impact of your relationship created a larger ripple in the world around you. Other times I wish romance options actually felt tactful and meaningful beyond clicking through a series of cheesy flirtations before finally hitting the sack. It’s sort of like the bell hitting game at the fair. Keep slamming your hammer down hard enough and eventually you’ll hear a tone signaling satisfaction. You win a teddy bear… or, awkward sex.
Outside of “Persona 4,” I can’t think of a game with a particularly well done romance system. That won’t stop me though apparently. I’m not sure what I hope to glean from continuing to pursue animated characters (probably nothing). I suppose I think everyone deserves to end up with someone else. It’s just disappointing that ending up together in games never really mirrors the idea’s fantastical connotations.
Do you feel compelled to find romance in games like Adam? Commiserate with him at arparis@wisc.edu
