By David Merrett
Moral choice in video games has been the subject of a great deal of debate. Much has already been said about the relative merits of different systems and metrics, or whether games should have them at all. So rather than talk about the subject systemically I thought I’d share a few examples from a popular (if old) game where moral choice has been done effectively, more so than games which purposely try to explore morality through moral choice systems.
To Kill or Not to Kill?
Since its incarnation Metal Gear has been a stealth action game. The game’s “Tactical Espionage Action” encompasses many different play styles and strategies, helped by the variety of items the player procures on site. By offering an option to not kill through avoidance, the game gives the player scope to make each encounter a moral choice. If one values life, even a terrorist’s, then the player can choose to negotiate the game’s challenges without killing (for the most part). It’s meaningful choice, because the “good” option is harder to accomplish and feels restrictive. If one feels compelled to go through the game and not kill, then it becomes much harder; there are many items that will essentially be redundant and enemies not killed still pose a threat. In later titles the option to incapacitate rather than kill enemies becomes available, even extending to non lethal means to defeat Bosses.
There are many games which seem to be more obviously about morality (Fallout, Bioshock, Mass Effect) and pose supposedly challenging moral questions yet have central mechanics which require you to slaughter your way through legions of enemies without any consideration for them. Metal Gear Solid’s design (as well as some other games with stealth) enables moral choice to be a part of its core gameplay and not just specific moral moments.
The Ninja
Who Dat Ninja?
Morality is as much about the means as it is the ends; what you’re prepared to do or how far you’ll go to achieve a noble goal is much more fertile ground for an interesting exploration of morality than patronising choices between good and evil. It’s something which at its best moments forms the basis for the Mass Effects, and is at the heart of the gameplay choice of whether or not to kill in Metal Gear, but there is one particular moment in Metal Gear Solid where this issue of means versus ends perfectly crystallises.
In the boss fight with the Cyborg Ninja, after taking down some of his life, he sheaths his sword, wanting an honourable fight. The player can choose to engage him on his terms, giving the ninja the fair duel he wants. Or, the player can use chaff grenades to disable him, leaving him hunched over in pain and completely vulnerable.
One can justify using the grenades easily; ultimately Snake is trying to stop a nuclear launch so unnecessarily risking his life for the sake of honour could be considered ridiculous. But there is something sad about the way the Ninja hunches over and the awful sound of pain when you use the grenade. He also insults you for trying to use weapons. The consequences of this dishonourable choice are vividly made.
Once again morality is conflated with gameplay challenge to great effect, in that one can feel ashamed to take the ‘easy’ way through. Morality is also externalised brilliantly; using the chaff grenades can feel wrong because of the way the Ninja has been presented to the player as a noble but tragic figure, and one whom behaves towards you in an honourable way.
The ninja fight is excellent as moral choice because it uses standard gameplay as the context. The decision isn’t a one moment thing either, it encompasses the way you play the whole encounter. This is a far more elegant way to do moral choice because it doesn’t alienate the player. It simply imbues play style and item choice with consequence and moral value. The morality of the situation isn’t defined by the game but rather by how you feel about the Ninja as a moral agent. For some, the question of morality never enters into it, he’s a just a mad masochistic robot with a sword. But, if the player sees him as more then suddenly the way you play becomes about more than just tactics.
Torture
The fate of Meryl hangs in the balance as Snake is tortured by Ocelot on an electrified rack. Unless you can press O fast enough you won’t be able to hold out, but if you can’t there’s always the option to submit by pressing Select. This is a more easily recognised example of moral choice but is exquisitely and originally executed.
It could have been a simple gameplay challenge; a mindless mini-game thrown in for variety and to add interactive dressing to a section with heavy narrative emphasis. But it’s far more than that. The bar representing your life suddenly becomes more meaningful. By rapidly pressing O the player can actually give life back as it’s depleted during torture. There is no magic going on; the bar is not representing life any more, but rather willpower or determination. The player’s role becomes pivotal, the scene is a test of the player as much as Snake.
There’s a tacit implication that Snake would rather die than give in to torture as the fail state is death, not Snake giving in, as it could have been. But Snake’s grim determination is for nothing without the player. He can’t get through the torture scene alive without player input one way or the other. The player has to choose to make Snake succumb or to give him the willpower to get through, otherwise he’ll hold out until he dies.
This choice succeeds in a variety of ways. It was about a character significant to the plot, protagonist and player. Meryl has been important in the adventure up to this point and the player has come to know her. She’s interacted with and helped Snake, but she’s also been a weakness that Psycho Mantis, Sniper Wolf, and now Ocelot are keen to exploit. Both an ally and an Achilles’ heel. To be suddenly responsible for her life but unable to rescue her was a sickening position to be put in.
It was clear which choice was positive and which negative but it wasn’t reduced to simplistic good and evil. The choice to submit comes not out of being ‘evil’, but rather out of weakness or selfishness, which seems a far more fitting version of what causes people to make immoral choices than what many other games show.
The choice wasn’t artificially presented. Though there are essentially only two outcomes, the choice feels anything but binary. The decision isn’t in a menu, A or B, Save Meryl, Let her die. Though you could submit straight away, the decision is integrated into a torture sequence which can go on over several instances, with more time in between where you reflect on your situation in a cell.
Linked to this, the choice didn’t come from a position of power. Being able to preside over life and death is something which many games routinely- including this one- have. But this choice isn’t empowering, even ‘winning’ the sequence doesn’t feel like a victory. The player isn’t even sure if Ocelot will be true to his word, or if Meryl is even still alive. The consequences aren’t definitely known for a long time, adding unease and tension to the choice you’ve made. Where many games fail is that the moral choices come from artificial situations which despite appearances aren’t desperate. This sequence truly captures the desperate conditions which make the moral choice warranted and engaging.
Most significantly gameplay is used to make the moral choice more effective and interesting. Saving Meryl is more physically difficult and time consuming than submitting. It’s a simple but important point. The decision is meaningless if the good choice is as easy to accomplish as giving in. The first time played, the player is unsure how many times they’ll have to endure the torture, and trapped in the cell, can feel gradually worn down. Further, by presenting the choice in the context of a challenge, the sequence parallels gameplay failure with moral failure; the decision to submit is not only tinged with shame on behalf of Snake but on the player for giving up.
Games with artificial moral choice contain an assumption that you will care about the those involved. This expectation that you must care, often on the basis of little information can make having a moral choice thrust at you underwhelming. Metal Gear doesn’t expect you to care about its characters, but if you do then you can shape your actions accordingly. Even in its moment of binary decision, it isn’t framed as moral choice. There’s no moment when the game talks down to you and says ‘this is a moral choice, what are you going to do?’ Why should we care? The Metal Gear Solid games have choice, but it is the player that imbues them with morality, and are all the better for it.
Metal Gear Solid is an achievement partly because it didn’t set out to be a game with meaningful moral choice; it has none of the artifice that can make them unsatisfying. It simply has exemplary execution of the constituent parts essential for it; good characters, player freedom and crucially, consequence. Being told that Meryl was going to die after submitting, being scolded by Naomi for killing Rats, or hearing Ninja’s howls of pain when you use the Chaff grenades. Having the consequences of your actions articulated by real characters, and knowing there was an alternative is what makes the moral choices in Metal Gear Solid far more compelling than watching a morality bar tick up or down a notch.
