Cool Jerk

by Snow Maiden B

Being careful of my appearance and fond of the black sheep, I felt compelled to respond to Cloudslash.

The need for heroes. It’s heard often, especially as the news is splattered with grainy video of youth violence. One rallying cry is ‘without leadership our children fall off into an abyss of crime, poverty, lethargy, etc.’ The other simply murmurs to itself and its cabal that there is a personal and long-festering reason for outbursts. A lot of histrionics and blame goes around in the same Ferris wheel; but the source of the discussion is the puerile argument of “You’re the problem, I’m the solution.” Fixed, immutable. “You’re the problem.”

This opinion bothers me. Not only since it refuses to set aside any dogmatic beliefs and to be flexible, but because it is insultingly insensitive. Personally I don’t believe in heroes. No one should be the model for another person. Their paths have been tread already so it is high time to thresh news ones: and so reading about Theseus and even King Arthur is very boring to me. (Especially when you consider what other, less valiant people were doing. Merlin is a particularly intriguing character, though not remarkably chivalrous.)

I bring up a lot of classically noble heroes in this essay since videogames are easily the next step for oddessyies. Humans are constantly recording their imagination — why can’t Chrono be a literary hero, too? (Albeit a very quiet one.)

Most heroes are created without much of a personality for a reason. Video games are excluded. If the main character has opinions or feelings that are contrary to the player or too fervently believed in, then the player will feel uninvolved and will lose interest. Game designers have said this for ages, it seems. The main character must be kept as a clear plate with minimal detailing so the player has a place to create.

But character designers don’t want to sit around drawing people with the personality of oatmeal. They want to make something flashy and swaggering. Since the hero is impenetrable then the runoff is integrated to the villain in surplus. All the frock coats, boas, strapless gowns and leather trousers go to the villains’ dressing rooms instead.

The real problem occurs during game play. The player now has to supply a foil—there is no white until there’s black—and during this declaration, often times we’re so consumed with being the righteous, ‘good’ side that the villain seems to be having all the fun.

Since we do posses Cloud and we consider ourselves good, decent people, the killing of thousands of government-enlisted soldiers doesn’t bother us. Our rationale is: “if they’re allied with the other side, then they’re no good to us.” We forget that, perhaps, those boys in uniform had families and friends. We feel that we are rightly saving peace through murder. It is understandable—part of fantasy is forgetting attachment: “it’s not my fault! I’m the hero!”

But you see what this perception does. Suddenly we refuse to pause and approach our troubles with opposing eyes. It is frightening to peel back the curtain to peep, I know. But don’t you want to see how golden the sunset could be?

Cloudslash brought up Ghaleon as a villain who was a “badass in battle” for the short tenure he was playable but also “the biggest jerk I’ve ever seen.” That deception was a key part of him. Hey, I had a friend in Kindergarten who picked out the best jump rope for me, only to stripe the back of my legs with it. And as you can guess, we weren’t friends after that and I have to admit not feeling remorseful for both the sissy fight that ensured and the reprimand she later got.

Whenever I assigned Ghaleon to cast “Rock n’ Rock”, I threw a triumphant sign of the beast; and likewise when he set it on me later in the game, I crossed my fingers that it wouldn’t wipe out my party. No one can guess another’s next move. Consider the fact that a good portion of players who picked up SSSC were returning gamers. They knew of the double cross and probably anticipated it. From my own experience the pleasure of playing Lunar again was to see the new adaptation. “How has this changed? Will this really happen the way I remember”? asked with some bated breath.

And though I try and I strain to recall, I don’t remember Ghaleon’s motive. (I’m sure someone will helpfully remind me upon publication. Heh.) However I do recall that his casting as the villain was made very apparent. On introduction, he slides those eerie red eyes at us in a sideways glare. Review the annals of anime and you’ll discover that it’s a prime method of hinting through aesthetics.

Out of pure opinion, I believe that villains are constructed to be sleek, nefarious creatures. They have that snarling kind of deviance since they have the job of visually (as well as actually) being the invincible obstacle for the hero to overcome. Usually the person that the player inhabits for awhile is a sweet, bumbling country boy—someone from nothing striving to recreate himself.

Recollect on the ugsome memories of sixth grade. The strategy was nearly the same. There was a quest through attire and attitude to emulate the top percentile of thuggish children, the coolest of the cool. And what did those suave little bullies of junior high do? They skinned other’s knees, tormented, taunted all while looking fantastic.

The best defense was to become one of them or one like them since they represent the pinnacle of achievement. Watch those long dusters villains of late are so fond of, all that silky girlie hair. None of it gets soiled in dirt, blood or sweat; none gets frazzled or knotted. The flawlessness is seductive.

And what eventually does every hero of an RPG do? They scour the countryside looking for the ultimate breastplate, gauntlets, and builds up levels until that have the chance to crush some sneering villain’s skull. Once you owned that exact shining perfection half of the fun of being so over-experienced was racing around killing laughably weak enemies, chewing eyeballs, digging elbow-deep in entrails. The high was spectacular.

Consider also Symphony of the Night. You play as Aulcard, the Goth dreamboat son of Dracula. Yes, he is startlingly handsome and impeccably dressed but isn’t he doing essentially the same thing that the pantheon of Belmonts did? He single-handedly wipes away Dracula and his entire crypt cuddling familiars. (With not a strand of hair out of place!) It results in the illicit pleasure of distinctly getting away with being bad while being good.

But what is the difference between the villain’s slaughter compared to the hero’s carefully planned assassination? Murder on any level is immoral—so then both parties are guilty. What worries me most of all is that there’s an instistance on pointing bloodied fingers at one. It’s no one’s fault; everybody’s to blame. (So stop all that whining and start primping. ^-^ )

Original Editorial: Delusion of the Cool Villain