« Happy Halloween | Home | What We’ve Done »
Humble Origins
By Corvus | November 4, 2008
Joseph Campbell’s monomyth, or Hero’s Journey, is a fun framework for critical analysis, but it’s also responsible for a lot of storytelling laziness. This is apparent in the standard RPG cliche of the farmer who saves the world, the lazy student who becomes a hero, the pauper who has royal blood, etc.
The problem isn’t that the cliche exists–I firmly believe it exists for a reason. Telling stories about ordinary people who rise to greatness is critical to our culture. We need our Jacks to climb beanstalks, our Robins to challenge sheriffs, and our Baracks to beat the political odds. These humble origin stories that are so prevalent across the world instill in us the belief that we can make a difference in the world, pursue our dreams, control our destinies and…
Wait a minute. What was that? Control our destinies? Aren’t these heroes destined to save the world? Isn’t it “written?” Surely they aren’t controlling their destiny, but being controlled by fate? And therein lies the laziness. While good writers can use the monomyth structure to great effect and weave a compelling tale that is both familiar and new, lazy writers stick so closely to the formula that they actually highlight the formula within the text itself.
Of course, the storyteller’s urge to include their own awareness of the plot into the plot itself via prophecy could simply be a means of inserting themselves more completely into the story. I suppose this could be chalked up to creative ego, or a desire to more directly connect with the audience, but I suspect it’s simply a lack of creative focus.
Or so goes my current line of reasoning.
I’m going to mention several games and briefly share my own thoughts about their emotional resonance and quality of storytelling. What I’d like you to do in the comments is share your own reactions to these game stories. Feel free to draw comparisons to games not listed below.
Fallout: This is perhaps my favorite of the humble origins I’ll mention here. When the game opens, you are simply tasked with being the first person to leave Vault 13 in order to find a replacement water chip. In the opening cinematic, the vault’s overseer does not even say why you were chosen for the task. This leaves the player to create their own reasoning based upon the unique character they built. As the game allows you to play such a wide variety of character types–from silver-tongued hucksters to hulking brutes–this is important to the player’s ability to attach to the story. The fact that you go on to save the world is not ever described as fated, and your motivations for doing so are not assumed by the plot. This allows players to take the journey themselves, on their own terms, and for their own reasons.
Fallout 2: In direct contrast to the first game, the hero of Fallout 2 is called the Chosen One. Even the events of the first game are related in a heroic fashion, painting the Vault Dweller as a quintessential hero. While this is appropriate for the context, it sets up expectations of behavior. A Chosen One from a simple village carries a certain cultural resonance that tends to dictate expectations about the hero’s behavior. The game allows you to overcome those expectations and behave however you like, but it creates a bit of cognitive dissonance to behave in a less than heroic fashion when you start raiding nearby towns.
Fable: The very fact that you are called Hero from the beginning of the game, and that you are clearly a cat’s paw for more powerful forces, casts your role in a particularly heroic light. Even the unfolding plot assumes a certain familial fidelity–right up until a final crucial moment when you make a life or death decision. It was quite incongruous and off-putting for me to see my horned monster of a Hero in cinematics, sulfurous clouds about his feet, being all emo over his missing sister and supposedly dead mother. This lent an air of disconnection between my imagined motivations for the hero and the story as presented.
Fable 2: This game dramatically improved upon the humble origin story of its predecessor. Rather than losing your family off screen to an anonymous group of bandits, you actually watch the death of your only family at the hands of a single powerful man. This makes your motivation personal and entirely your own. So, despite the obvious manipulations of a mysterious woman, the player is left to their own emotional reality. The game even responds early on, when your mentor muses over whether your motivation is appropriate. She decides it doesn’t matter and continues to use you for her own ends. This is a great start and works well until the final moments of the game’s main plot when it falls apart like a house of cards–a disappointment I’ll cover in depth in another post later this week.
Dungeon Siege: The most obvious and transparent monomyth setup of them all. In the opening cinematic, the narrator states that a humble farmer is all that stands between the kingdom and encroaching chaos. Then you pick up your hoe and start smacking goblins–an activity that continues until Burt Reynolds becomes king.
So what are your reactions to these humble origins? Do you prefer the personal motivations of Fallout, or the grander status of Fallout 2? Does the clear simplicity of Dungeon Siege appeal, or do you prefer the emotional complexity of Fable 2’s storyworld? What other humble origin stories do you find particularly compelling–or completely off-putting? Let me know in the comments!
Tagged:joseph campbell, monomyth, origin stories, storytelling. | 10 Comments »
November 4th, 2008 at 3:25 pm
I groan just hearing the word “prophecy” or any phrase involving “chosen” or “destiny” or “fated”. Usually its bad foreshadowing of a linear story that I won’t finish because the ending was just given to me on a platter. There’s rarely the subtle subversion of prophecy, such as in MacBeth, and even less likely an opportunity to choose to subvert “destiny”. In a game, I find this particularly irksome because what’s the use of playing the game if the game won’t admit to even a false hope of choice/control?
But I tend to rant against the Monomyth entirely because I so rarely find any monomyth-inspired work all that that exciting, and find the formulation more insipid than inspiring. Then that anger melds with my general boredom with classic fantasy and most RPGs…
(I tend to become even angrier about the monomyth and its weird hold on so many otherwise respectable writers when someone tells me that my hatred of “the one true way to write a good story” stems only from my youth and ignorance and just wait until I truly understand the monomyth… Bah.)
November 4th, 2008 at 3:32 pm
Any writer who tells you that the monomyth is the “one true way” to write a story needs to do a little more research. There are a lot of academic theorists that turn their nose up at the monomyth because they feel it’s a reduction of the richness of cultural variance (among other reasons).
I find that I don’t tend to think about it much when I write. That being said, I find it an interesting tool for analysis and there are some extraordinarily compelling movies that are even more interesting when examined with the monomyth in mind (like my post on Big Lebowski a while back).
November 4th, 2008 at 4:24 pm
Ermmm, eventually I’ll sound like a broken record if I keep extolling this series without doing a collection of posts about them as I replay them and record my thoughts, but Quest for Glory stands out in my mind. It seems to have fun with the whole monomyth trope, especially since it starts building as the character progresses. By the time you reach the fifth game, everyone expects you to be the next King of Silmaria, but it is entirely possible to fail being the hero of destiny and have Elsa become Queen, or a few other outcomes. This would be in direct contrast to how you have built a reputation to the point that everyone expects it from you, but it’s not required to finish the game.
I’m also finding that, so far, with Fallout 3, I have no concept of me as a monomyth. Currently I’m still just searching for my father. What is intriguing me here is turning on Galaxy News Radio, and my title changes based on my level and ‘karma,’ so right now I’m an Urban Legend. I will have to see what it’s like if I perform quests in an ‘evil’ manner, but Three Dog, the DJ, keeps talking about events I’ve performed, and uses my titles as I progress in the game. However, there is no sense that this was my destiny.
One thing I’m probably going to observe in Oddworld (beyond the gameplay mechanics) is the fact that in the introductory movie Abe talks about saving his race as being his destiny, and the title being Odyssee. Perhaps I’m reading too much into it, but it seems to set itself up as a parallel to Odysseus’s travels in the Odyssey. As long as no rosy red fingers of dawn come into the story, it ought to be intriguing to compare and contrast these two (at least in my mind).
November 4th, 2008 at 10:13 pm
I’ve never been particularly enamored with stories (interactive or otherwise) that rely heavily on fate, prophecy or something similar. I’d thought about the contrast between Fallout and Fallout 2, but not quite in this way. Thanks for getting the gears churning on that.
It’s not impossible to make interesting use of prophecy, however. D&D’s tabletop setting Eberron made use of prophecy, but with enough twist to allow it to enable player choice instead of restricting it. In Eberron, the chronicle of fate manifest in the world itself as very small portents. It’s impossible to know much of the prophecy, but with sufficient scholarship and hundreds of years, one can begin to unravel small sections of the prophecy. In the setting, dragons are one of the few creatures with enough longevity to engage in such scholarship. Thusly, the prophecy is commonly referred as the Draconic Prophecy.
In terms of gameplay, engaging with the Draconic Prophecy can provide all kinds of interesting character motivations. Players can investigate signs of the prophecy, or have to deal with others seeking to understand the signs inscribed literally on a player’s body. Given that there is no one definite or clear interpretation of the prophecy, different interpretations might lead to very different courses of action.
I haven’t had a chance to use the prophecy much in my Eberron games, but I’d like to at some point. I’m still all distracted by Obama awesomeness, but hopefully this made some sense. Keith had a much better write-up on WotC website if anyone wants more detail: http://www.wizards.com/default.asp?x=dnd/ebds/20041227a
November 5th, 2008 at 12:15 am
In my opinion the “humble origins” trope is utterly misused in pretty much all games.
Without wanting to resort to overtly teleological justifications, the “purpose” of humble origins is either to emphasise the struggle towards victory (to heighten the narrative fiero) or as a premise for the “rag to riches” story – which is usually played as comedy.
Videogames don’t do comedy because it has been decreed from on high that we are not allowed (which is to say, the people who make videogames are not good at judging comedy), so the rags to riches story is rarely played, and pretty much never played well. (Comedy, incidentally, traditionally ends in or with marriage or its equivalent and since games don’t do romance, they don’t do comedy either. It’s no coincidence that “rom-com” has become a compound phrase in modern English!)
As for heightening the narrative fiero – please, as if we weren’t fiero-foccused enough already!
I broadly agree with your claim that the striving for “everyperson heroes” runs deep, and drives these humble origin stories. But in the context of Campbell, I feel there is more to say in this regard.
In Campbell’s monomyth, the importance of the point of origin isn’t that it’s humble at all – it is that it is *normal*. The hero begins in the normal world, then crosses a threshold that takes them into the other world.
For Luke, in Star Wars (which is a sound example since it was intentionally modelled upon the monomyth), this threshold crossing happens when Luke escapes Tatooine. After this point, Luke is in another world – having left his own world behind.
Yes, Luke has humble origins as a moisture farmer – but this is part and parcel of the idea of the normal world. The normal world is ordinary and dull. That’s the point of the humble origins here, and Luke expresses this idea wonderfully with the famous phrase “if there’s a bright spot in the galaxy, you’re on the point furthest from it”.
In mythology, the hero begins from the tribe of the culture that are telling the story – that’s what roots the story. These days, attempts to work the same trope tend to fail or wind up cheesy (c.f. The Hidden Kingdom) because the transition from “reality” to “fantasy” is deemed jarring – we don’t buy these kind of shifts any more. Thus we must start in fantasy. But when you start in fantasy, the point of the normal world as a starting point is usually lost.
Honestly, the Japanese have perhaps been the biggest influence in maintaining the humble origins trope, and that’s perhaps because to the Japanese culture at large it is not acceptible for the hero to begin powerfully (except in “manga” – irresponsible images). Thus we begin a Japanese RPG often with a young boy who must be trained. This reflects a conception of striving for perfection engrained in Japanese culture. But in the West, we don’t have this tradition, so why do we copy it – other than habit? Perhaps for the reason you highlighted – the equivalent Western myth that “anyone can make a difference”.
In listing games that use humble origins, you omit the various Legend of Zelda games – yet these are perhaps closest to Campbell’s model (remembering that the monomyth is a *description* of mythological patterns not a *prescription* for storytelling). In Twilight Princess in particular, the village works excellently as “the normal world” – with Twilight as “the Other World” (although Hyrule at large is also “the Other World” – this idea plays on multiple levels in this game). A Link to the Past pulls off something similar. The nice thing about this is that the village here is still a fantasy to the player – even though it is also in some sense quite “normal”.
The abuse of Campbell’s work happens because most writers don’t understand Campbell’s core thesis, and have learned it as a formula with no comprehension. Yet the monomyth isn’t a formula – it’s a collection of narrative atoms that can occur in complete, incomplete or recurrent cycles with specific psychological (mythological) intentions. Few if any myths have the full monomyth structure because it is an ideal case, not a practical one – yet games often try to convert to this format piece by piece, usually with disappointing results.
All storytelling is imitation, and the humble origins trope is so de rigour that people don’t think about what it should be doing in narrative terms. Don’t use a cliché because you feel you *must* – understand what the purpose of the cliché was, then you can spin it into something new and engaging.
—
*phew* Didn’t intend to write so much! Guess I *really* don’t want to go to work this morning. Perhaps I should have posted this to my blog and tracked back to your post, but then, you have enough community here already so I don’t think you need the plugs anymore!
Toodles!
November 5th, 2008 at 5:11 am
Thanks for the comments everyone!
@Chris I personally tend to equate ‘humble’ and ‘normal,’ but I think you’re right that there’s an important distinction that needs to be observed.
And I didn’t mention Link or Luke because I knew I could rely on someone to add them to the conversation for me. (-_0)
November 5th, 2008 at 5:49 am
I’ll get to the “prophecy” part in a moment, but basically, the “humble origin” part in any RPGs allows the developers to pit you against the proverbial rats-at-the-starting-point. If you were already a recognised and trained warrior, what would be the point?
On to the Prophecy part, and chosing a path or another…
I seem to remember that at the beginning of Might & Magic V, you simply find a strang glowing ball at your feet and decide to take it back to its rightful owner. True, you have no choice in this, but helping save the world is not on your mind at the start.
In Titanquest as well, you have no choice. But no prophecy either. You just happen to be a warrior, that no one knows and who is there to help.
In Morrowind, there is this prophecy again.
But all in all, whether there is a prophecy or not, you can not really control your destiny… If you want to finish the game, you have to save the world (an no cheerleadr to save, sheeeesh). That’s what’s starting to be galling to me: there is most of the time only ONE true way to the end. Else you are just putting off, or you must prepare yourself for a “game over, you failed” screen.
I’d love to see a game with different endings at different parts of the game…
November 5th, 2008 at 8:42 am
Unfortunately, games lend themselves well to this formula because they’re usually focused on the idea of player progression and accomplishment.
It seems like this problem is made even worse by the “bigger is better” mentality in a lot of games. Why settle for subtle character development when the player can save the entire world?! There seems to be an assumption that the payoff for the player is greatest when their actions lead to a result that effects everyone, which results in a quantity over quality situation.
I don’t think there is a way to avoid negatively affecting character development, or other subtle rewards for the player, when a “save the world” scenario is used because a character with that goal is going to be an archetype. Any development of the character that doesn’t lead toward the final goal is essentially a waste of time because the world ends if the character doesn’t save it.
I think developers need to trust their abilities as storytellers and avoid the “ultimate payoff” ending as a way of covering themselves. I don’t know, however, whether the market can be trusted to recognize subtlety is more rewarding than saving an empty world.
November 6th, 2008 at 9:06 am
When I was creating my “BEST RPG EVAH!” in QBasic many years ago, I also wrote the story by referring to the destiny of the hero. And then didn’t pay attention to it when I continued working on that game. I was mimicking what I had seen in a number of RPGs I had played, such as Dragon Warrior, Final Fantasy, and Dungeon Magic, all for the NES.
Is it really laziness, though? I liked the idea that I was fulfilling a destiny. That is, I never got the impression that it was MY destiny until I made it mine. That there is supposed to be a hero of legend is fine. It’s the idea that I surprised even myself and my family with BEING that hero of legend that makes it a great story. See Wind Waker.
But I love playing a game in which there was no explicit prophecy or destiny mentioned, too. In Original War, you have a job to do as a soldier, but otherwise, you have no idea what to expect. Wing Commander is similar. In both, you’re the hero of your story, but it’s not as if you find clues about what you’re supposed to do to fulfill a destiny. In fact, in Original War, history hasn’t even happened yet! B-)
If I had to choose, I think personal motivation sounds more interesting…which I suppose is why Wind Waker works so well. You just want to save your sister! Fulfilling this weird legend you’ve heard about all your life? Sure, I guess. Why not? I guess I’ve played a lot of games where the player’s character gradually fits himself/herself into the role of hero, as opposed to games where the player’s character is basically told to be the hero.
I can’t remember the name of it, but I remember reading about a game in which the main character isn’t the hero in the end. You weren’t meant to fulfill the destiny. You just allowed the real hero, an NPC, to do it. I think I heard it was somewhat disappointing as an ending, although I think it is fascinating. Anyone know what the game was?
November 6th, 2008 at 9:18 am
Yeah, I think it’s laziness when it’s used so transparently and as a stock plot without any attempt to personalize it. Wind Waker, as you say, personalizes it with Link’s sister being kidnapped. Fallout personalizes it by not dictating your role.