Grand Theft Auto 5, A Review

I'm not the biggest gamer in the world, at least anymore. I remember when the N64 came out and I spent hours playing it at my friend David's house (while being 'grounded' from Nintendo no less!). From then, I've been hooked on the more old school form of video gaming, at least from a distance. While at my bachelor party, my friends and I broke out the N64 for Mario Kart and SSB. It was a good old time.

I've been familiar with the GTA series since San Andreas. I know this because I played it constantly on my laptop while at Biola, even in class. I think it was New Testament or something. Either way, I made sure to sit in the back to avoid giving other students something to actually do.

So I'm been pretty invested in the GTA series. I've always loved the free-roaming environments, the satire, the essential libertarian freedom to do pretty much whatever you wanted. Usually, the satire was enough to get me through any ethical reservations I would have. Same with the newest incarnation of GTA, which takes us back to where I started.

Los Angeles. Errr San Andreas.

Anyway. As a prelude, this review isn't intended as a comprehensive examination. Its more about what stood out to me in playing this game.

The game moves through three main characters: Franklin, Trevor and Michael. In a sense, the three stooges if they decided to embody a living critique of their own American excessive culture. Through their chasing the American dream (a butt load of money), we are privy to stupidity, immortality and hilarity on a near perfect plane. The heights of government to the sewers, GTAV traverses a literal world. Its compact yet expansive.

Mechanically, the game is as fluid as a maple syrup enema. The land vehicles in GTA4 handled, most often, like there was a rhino attached to the rear fender. Here, the physics are tweaked to the point of being a cartoon. Cars still spin out, but the traction holds well once you gain a bit of speed. The hide and shoot mechanic is solid as usual, so no complaints there. There are a few instances of pop up, but nothing worth mentioning more than once here.

In regards to shooting (c'mon, that's the main reason my wife let me buy this game), everything is ramped up beyond anything GTA4 could've handled. Firing a grenade launcher into a group of cars reveals a series of massive concussive explosions, as each car explodes more than once, pieces flying about like paper in a hurricane.

Its technically and narratively dynamic. The world is filled with plenty of side missions. A standout for me was helping a group of white racists track down 'illegal immigrants' and ship them back to Mexico. Not because I really enjoy the prospect of shipping pixelized people around imaginary borders, but because the characters are so simply absurd.

That is where GTAV shines and simmers. The satire is absolutely brutal, flaying everyone from high top religious leaders to the FBI. Some missions revolve around two agencies fighting each other over budgets, pettiness that one hopes isn't indicative of reality. Other missions are controversial and, frankly, some of the most jarringly shocking material to drop in my lap in some time.

I defended the controversial mission in Modern Warfare 2 on the grounds that it was narratively consistent, and realistic in the sense that it placed the gamer in the shoes of someone genuinely moral who was required to act out in an immoral way. It simply plops someone down in a bad situation and says "go."

*SPOILERS*

Here, we have an extended sequence involving the torture of a man of Middle-Eastern descent, though clearly a native San Andreas citizen. In order to extract 'necessary' information, Trevor engages in some well-known torture techniques. What makes the scene difficult is not merely the physical torture. Trevor tears out teeth and shocks the man with a car battery in the same way one would make breakfast for a lover.

In doing this, the scene can come across as 'enjoying' the man's pained experience, though I sincerely doubt that was the writers' intent.

Instead, I think the writers expected the gamer to behave in the same way as Trevor: detached, slightly demented, even enjoying the scene to some extent. They believe that the America they are subtly criticizing would happily indulge in some freely chosen torture. As long as it doesn't happen in real life. After all, we've heard plenty about waterboarding in the "War on Terror." Many reviewers have decried the sequence, and it seems that gamers and critics are split on the necessity and effectiveness of this particular piece of the game.

For me, maybe that is the point. The satire boils down to what the writer's expect American's to do when handed a pixelated pair of pliers. Was the scene necessary? Not really. It doesn't particularly stand out as needing to exist, though it is consistent with the satirical elements already established. It does, however, emphasize pain in a way the game hasn't up to that point. Particularly emotional pain. So, is the scene necessary again? Maybe. Most likely not. I also wonder to what extent the writers believe in the im/maturity of the gamer. Since they don't let you opt out of the mistreatment, maybe that's my answer. Was the scene effective?

Absolutely. I'm talking about it with you right now.

*END SPOILERS*

Certainly GTAV gave me plenty to consider, on top of being a technically flawless experience. I still hop in a customized bike and ride around to the top of the Vinewood sign just to observe some deer running across the road.

To say the game isn't narratively gripping and genuinely fun to play is to be dishonest. What matters more is how mature a gamer is in regards to negative content. Anyone can have a good time, but it takes reflection to truly recognize the limitations of fun.

GTAV a bruising, darkly funny satire of the country that would encourage much of the world to spend over 1 billion dollars on it in three days. Its that good. Its that funny. Its that desperate.

--Nick

A Theology of Max Payne 3

SPLATTERED PIXELS

There is often so much more to rendered pixels and splattered colors. In finishing the nearly 12 hour campaign, I was struck with so many thoughts and wonders. This won't be a review, though there will be spoilers. However, I am more interested in the narrative and oft potent theological motifs explored in Max Payne 3 and how they relate relevant worldviews and perspectives.

TOTAL DEPRAVITY

In the beginning, there was Jack Daniels. Though similar to Denzel Washington's character in Man On Fire, this drunken and violent loser is far more compelling. The opening, rendered in stunning cinematics and a distraught voice over relays the trajectory for the next 12 hours. 

Simply, Max Payne is the embodiment of the worst we can become. He is not only crawling beneath the bottom of the barrel, he's found a new dimension of sorrow and pain. To many, he is not worth saving and he has little desire to save himself. For him to down painkillers and alcohol, then throw up as if this is normal brings a horrifying concept:

How can you save someone who doesn't want to be saved?

And how does this relate to God, free will, and the terror of the unknown specter of possible damnation and redemption?

In Brazil of his own (free?) choice, Max begins contractual work for a ludicrously wealthy family, swerving on top of the South American food chain. Brazil, as it is presented, reminds of me of the stereotypes of the 80s: coke, whores, and corporate yupsters (a new term?). It is here where the haunted Max actually seems relatively normal. At least, normal enough.

Within the first few minutes, we are treated to a critique of excessive capitalism and a fractured family atmosphere that seems to correlate very well with the United States. Commercialism is seen as god-like and people pursue it past every little thing that would offer true pleasure. It is here where Max Payne is not only alone, but rotting away beneath the floorboards of excess and sadness.

He doesn't want to be saved.

A FLIPSIDE TO NIHILISM & REDEMPTION

After the abduction of his boss's trophy wife, Max goes on a failed rampage, with each passing sequence more personal than the last. Unaware of the cultural shifts and politics, Max blunders headfirst into an already delicate situation (another critique of the United States) and tries to blast his way into saving the woman. 

It is interesting to notice that the further Max gets along in his quest, the more ambiguous he seems to feel about saving himself. At many points, you genuinely wonder if he is actually pursuing redemption and is instead simply hoping for that one lucky bullet to put him out of his misery. In fact, the second option seems far more plausible. 

God is never directly mentioned in the story, but for every lens flare and operatic cut scene, the presence of something is near. The specter of death, as mentioned, is close. However, the dualistic apparition of damnation/redemption is closing in and Max seems to realize this. Yet he continues to track down this woman through airports, train stations, buildings, strip clubs and the favela. 

Why?

He had many chances to drunkenly blast himself away. It seems being of sober mind reduces the suicidal tendencies. Why doesn't he kill himself? It has nothing to do with a God-complex, and the idea soon becomes a little more clear:

He is actually pursuing redemption. He seems his redemption in saving the life of an abducted woman. And this brings me to another idea. We, as people, are often the most staunch believers in our "truths" and often it takes a complete and total paradigm shift in order to shake us from our beliefs. A racist meets a minority that helps him. A drunkard meets his only son for the first time. Max has encountered, in the very essence of his being, the true desire to genuinely save. 

Instead of succumbing to failures, Max continues to press on.

THE THRESHOLD OF BRUTALITY

The concept of redemptive violence and the spilling of blood has it's roots in the political games of old and the myths of the past. In fact, it makes for great and compelling story telling. Who doesn't want to see Neo shoot hundreds of people and Leonidas vanquish his enemies. However, when encountered with villains that feed off the innocent, Max is stricken by revulsion and is actually moved into a greater action. To view true inhumanity should bring about a tidal wave of change. To not only save and punish, but to eradicate. His view of evil shifts from an individual focus to a corporate. Yes, "corporate" functions in a nice way as a double meaning.

And it makes more sense to me that, while I've begun to question the morality of "redemptive violence" (particularly in war), I cannot shake the crucifixion. In fact, the very act of what has reconciled all things is indeed a violent act, a horrific act. In fact, the pierced hands and feet seem to defy such a thing. This gives me great pause. It all comes back to the Christ.

Max Payne, in his campaign to save an innocent woman and to finally restore his honor, is walking right towards his own crucifixion, as if going to the ends of the earth means something now. He is willing to die and a shocking thing happens: while he has a dim view of human nature (particularly his own), he does subscribe a wealth of worth towards the woman and a hint towards himself. If he truly thought anyone else could do a better job, he would stop and return to his addiction. 

But he doesn't. He doesn't even ask for the cup to be pulled away from his lips. He rushes into it with a passionate fury.

If not me, who else?

I do wonder if the Christ wondered such a thing at any point.

CONCLUSION

Max's baptism is in both blood and fire, and as the hero walks away into the sunset, he is still scared and broken and beaten. The sins of the past have the hope of resolution in a future existence, and Max is prepared to face such things once again. In a hopeless place, Max found redemption.