Why I Don’t Remember Mass Effect
Ordinarily, in these blog posts, I try to explore aspects of a topic that weren’t fully addressed in the corresponding episodes of the podcast. When it comes to these Mass Effect episodes, it’s difficult to imagine any aspect of the story that was not covered, perhaps to death, in the 4 hours we were on mic. There was something that I was hesitant to address in the episodes because I didn’t want to sound overly critical of a piece of media that I basically enjoyed. Why don’t I remember the story of Mass Effect?
For the most part, I remember my time spent playing Mass Effect fondly. It was a perfectly enjoyable sci-fi time-sink. I did not find the story or the characters particularly engaging, but this was made up for by the gameplay. In the episodes we did on Mess Effect by Shamus Young, both Nate and Shamus argue that the first Mass Effect game was an excellent first part to the trilogy which, despite its flaws, sets up the story for success. I disagree. In my opinion, Mass Effect is flawed from the ground up due to two early decisions in the game’s planning: An emphasis on player choice, and the decision to make Shepherd a spacecop.
The problem of choice
Nate points out in our episode that any video game that attempts to bring a Table Top Role Playing Game (TTRPG) experience, like Dungeons and Dragons, into the video game world is going to be limited by the technology. A computer, despite some shady game ads to the contrary, cannot adequetely replace a human Game Master’s ability to react creatively to anything the player decides to do. The player’s range of choice must be necessarily limited the set of pre-prepared outcomes. This is technically true, but I’d like to back up a bit and examine the decision to fixate on player choice in the first place.
For those who may be unfamiliar, in a TTRPG like Dungeons and Dragons, one of the players assumes the role of Game Master (or Dungeon Master). This player guides the events of the story and takes on the role of all non-player-characters. This includes allies, enemies, and neutral third parties. For example if a player assumes the character of Frodo, the game master will knock at his door in the form of a non-player-character, Gandalf, and offer him the quest of The Ring. It is up to the player to choose how he reacts to this offer. In theory, a player could tell Gandalf to get out. The player could refuse to leave his hobbit hole and role play a quiet life in The Shire until the end of his days. This player would likely be asked to leave the game. I’ve seen it happen before.
Dungeons and Dragons does allow a greater degree of player-character freedom than any video game possibly can, but that freedom is not infinite. Nor are player-characters the sole focus of the game. They are one character in a larger story. Most games are played with several player-characters. A good Game Master ensures that all players share the spotlight. These games work best when the group as a whole comes together with the intention of creating a fun storytelling experience. A good player should not act solely in the interests of their own character. A good player will sometimes need to recognize when to make an out-of-character move or even intentionally make a mistake for the sake of the story. A bad player will make choices that hinder the other players ability to influence the story under the guise of that behavior being “what my character would do.” This is all to say that TTRPG’s are not one person’s sandbox for wish fulfillment. They are a group storytelling effort. Consideration for other voices and the GM’s prepared narrative are necessary limits to the player’s freedom. These limits do not exist in a single player video game RPG.
The computer is limited by its set of predefined outcomes. The table is limited by the need to accommodate other people. In either case, our choices are limited. The only way to shake loose the bonds of destiny and embrace true freedom is to become creators of our own universe. Short of creating your own game or writing your own book, some sort of procedurally generated game where the story exists mainly in the players own imagination is the best bet for optimizing choice.
I’m going to offer what may be a hot take in video game RPG philosophy. Choice is a gimmick. Role Playing Games are just that. Games where the Player takes on a Role. In most RPG’s the character is not meant to be an avatar for the player. The player assumes the role of a character, and that is fine. Commander Shepherd is not Ben. Ben is not Commander Shepherd. Ben can play the role of Commander Shepherd, though. In acting out the movements of Commander Shepherd, Ben may achieve a deeper understanding of the character than he could ever have from simply reading about Shepherd.
Roleplay has an advantage on other forms of story telling. It is active rather than passive. If I play a standard RPG, I may be forced to act out a script in order to keep playing, but the story needs me to act for it to continue. If I am forced to roleplay a scene where I kill a prisoner, the prisoner will not die until I push the button. Though I have no other practical choice I do have the choice not to continue. There is a power in active participation, even in the absence of alternate options, that many video games have used to great effect.
With all of this in mind, why plan this video game’s story around the player’s ability to influence it? The only answer I can think of is novelty. Choice based games have been around for quite some time (see Tim Roger’s very long essay on Tokimeki Memorial), but none had looked like this. A polished, modern, space-opera RPG that allowed the player meaningful freedom to influence the outcome attracted more attention than a polished, modern, space-opera RPG with a great story. People would be attracted by the promise that Bioware had found some way to get around the limitations of the machine. Maybe this generation of consoles had enough computing power to make a giant leap forward? Of course it would turn out that, no, it did not. The choices players made mattered very little. Mass Effect 3 would go on to become a cautionary tale to all aspiring game makers. Mass Effect was doomed to be a mediocre story from its inception because of the decision to focus on choice.
The only thing that stops a bad spaceguy with a gun is a good spaceguy with a gun
The year is 2007. The War on Terror rages. George W. Bush sits in the White House. Financial crisis looms nigh. Nu-metal bands roam the Earth. It was an edgier time. Militaristic anti-terrorism fiction was having something of a moment. Enter Commander Shepherd, a gun-toting space-cop with a license to kill. His arch nemesis, Sarin, definitely has weapons of mass destruction and is plotting a terrorist attack on the financial hub of the universe: The Citadel. Shepherd’s warnings go unheeded, but God Dammit, Shepherd is going to save this galaxy whether it wants to be saved or not!
I’m not sure if I’ve made this clear, but I don’t care for Commander Shepherd. Even if Mass Effect had thrown out the Bioware decision tree nonsense, I was not going to feel a great connection to this character. What I love most about science fiction and fantasy is a sense of exploration and discovery. I think the reason RPG’s tend to thrive in these genres is because they are best explored by characters who grow along with their perspective. A peasant picking up a sword and heeding the call to adventure is a tried and true way to go (see Luke Skywalker for a sci-fi version).
Commander Shepherd doesn’t really grow is a character. He is an established man of action by the time we come to inhabit him. He learns more about the Protheans. His fame grows. But none of this really changes who Shepherd is as a person. Shepherd is not a scientist or an explorer. He is a military man who is here to solve military problems by military means. Despite his connection to the Prothean artifact, he is the wrong choice to lead this effort.
It’s possible that his being the wrong choice could work for the story. It could force Shepherd to learn and grow. To become something more than just a very good soldier. But I don’t believe that was the story that Bioware was interested in telling. I don’t believe we’re dealing a story-first approach to game design. Mass Effect was engineered to be marketable first and foremost, and I want to be clear. There’s nothing wrong with this. Unfortunately, this isn’t Words About Succeeding In The Industry. It is Words About Books. When I look at this story, I simply do not see the potential that Nate and Shamus saw.
Final Thoughts
In my opinion, Mass Effect is a perfectly good video game series with potential to continue on as a franchise. But it does not hold up as an example of how video games can be used to create engaging stories. It is in many ways a product of its time. A good product, but a product none the less.
