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The silent protagonist is a staple of video games. The reasoning behind it is that designers
don’t want anything taking the players of the experience or otherwise breaking their
immersion. Seeing the protagonist’s face or voice just reminds them that they aren’t
the hero. Interestingly, critics point out that a silent protagonist can have the opposite
effect, pulling them out of the game.
To be fair, it is a bit silly when Gordon Freeman doesn’t let out a peep during the
entire Black Mesa incident. But then how does Valve, the reigning kings of the silent hero
cliche, keep players immersed in their games? Simply put, they make the scenario the protagonist
faces relatable to the player.
When you’re playing Portal, the main motivation to keep playing isn’t wanting to see Chell’s
tenacity overcome the hells of Aperture Science, it’s to beat a puzzle game. I know that
sounds like the complete opposite of immersion, but think about what Chell is actually doing.
She’s going through a series of rooms and solving the puzzles in each one, getting closer
and closer to the end of the test. What is the player doing? The exact same thing. Then,
when GLaDOS goes back on her promises of cake and tries the kill Chell, the player is equally
betrayed. Not because the player really wanted to see Chell eat some cake, but because they
just played through 19 levels, and they want to see some payoff.
But that’s a pretty straightforward game. What about something more complicated, like
Half-Life? Well the first game starts off with some very brief background information,
so there’s already a separation between Gordon and the player. To mend that break,
Gordon is presented as an Average Joe. That long, drawn-out tram ride helps put the player
in the shoes of a guy who’s late for work. Our role in the opening test isn’t exactly
high brow, just pushing a cart into a machine. The Resonance Cascade works as a scare because
it’s an event both the player and a room full of geniuses don’t understand
After that, it follows the format of Portal. Solve puzzles in the hopes of finding an escape,
get betrayed by those you trust, beat impossible odds with clever thinking and good aim.
Then Valve delivers an ending that solidifies Gordon’s relationship with the player. The
infamous G-Man pulls Gordon out of the action and informs him that he’s to be put on a
sort of hiatus until his services are needed again. In the same way, the player has done
his part and will return for the sequel. Gordon and the player share the same role: the right
man in the wrong place, incredibly powerful figures there to change the path of the world
around them through very direct means.
There’s a train of thought that says this is actually the primary flaw of the Half Life
series, that this kind of interaction cheapens the experience. To quote Campster, "Half-Life
is more of a roller coaster or a theme park ride than a game proper."
But why is that such a bad thing? When you're criticising any media it’s under the assumption
that it’s been engineered to elicit emotions from the audience. By comparing it to a rollercoaster
you’re assuming that the tactics they use to elicit those emotions are cheap by virtue
of being scripted. But does that mean that I can’t feel fear, brotherhood, betrayal,
or satisfaction because it’s engineered and therefore fake?
I think the fact that Gordon’s a silent protagonist works to the game’s advantage.
It’s my relationship with the player character that makes it meaningful outside of the gameplay.
Gordon and I both deal with some pretty heavy moments throughout the series. We’re partially
responsible for the genocide of humanity. After all, we were the ones who triggered
the Resonance Cascade. That knowledge weighs on us, making it especially painful when the
Resistance reveres us as a folk-hero. It makes our drive to save this universe that much
stronger, because we’re really just making up for our greatest mistake.
But that doesn’t have to be how you see the game. The beauty of a game, and specifically
the silent protagonist trope, is that the player fills in the emotional gaps behind
his or her avatar. It leaves the experience open for interpretation by the player, each
experience inherently unique due to the fact that each player, and therefore each Gordon,
is different.
And maybe you don’t see Half Life as the shining example of raw emotion gamers make
it out to be, but it doesn’t mean a linear experience is a broken storytelling format.
As long as the writing presents that story without breaking immersion or ignoring the
crucial role the player has as a part of the narrative, scripted experiences delivered
through a silent protagonist can work just as well, if not better, than other methods
of game storytelling.