The Rise and Fall of a Beloved Gaming Genre and Why Sometimes Things Are Better Left to the Imagination
Living in a Materia World
I still remember Aeris' death like it was yesterday. Killed by the hand (or rather, sword) of Sephiroth, arguably the coolest villain Japanese role playing games (JRPG's) had ever seen. It's an event that still resonates with any fan of role playing games today. Gamers, often a jaded bunch, reported even shedding a tear or two when the sweet flower girl was brutally and without warning slaughtered, and many even define this scene as the pinnacle of their role playing adolescence. However, in recent years JRPG's, once one of the largest genres of games with the most loyal of fans, have waned in popularity and critical acclaim despite increased budgets and higher quality artwork and technology. What caused this?
Less is More
Role playing games by nature are verbose. Lots of dialog. Go here, fetch this, kill that, with ensemble casts full of rich characters. Diverse and interesting characters have have backstories that need exposition. Back in the early days when games were on cartridges, memory limitations and technology didn't allow for voice acting. All in game dialog was text-based. That lonely spiky haired hero with a chip on his shoulder and a giant sword? He sounded exactly the way we imagined he sounded. Gruff. Strong. Determined. Bad ass.
However, with the advent of CD's and the original Playstation, suddenly games had tons of storage and we could start hearing the voices of the characters we grew to love. Most RPG's still weren't voiced due to the sheer amount of recorded dialog that took up so much space it wouldn't fit onto a standard disc. As RPG's transitioned to more powerful consoles, so too did the way the characters communicated. Suddenly we have for the first time fully realized characters with a voice of their own.... that sounded nothing like what we heard in our own minds.
That lone-wolf, spiky haired bad boy? He's actually kind of a wuss.
Culture Shock
The problem arises from a fundamental difference in what western audiences (us in the USA, for example) and eastern audiences (Japan, where these games are made) finds compelling versus annoying.
To the Japanese, the loner hero who has nothing to live for and is introverted is intriguing. The more sullen, broken, and depressed he is, the more mysterious he seems and intriguing he is. So when someone asks him a question and he casts a dismissive glance and spouts some cringeworthy emo one-liner, to Japanese audiences that's just the way he is. Misunderstood. Burdened with a weight no teenage hero should have to bear. But to us, he's just plain annoying. A crybaby that can't tackle his own problems and lets his emotions get the best of him. Hardly the poster child for a sprawling epic of a game where his mission is to overcome the hardships of a quest and triumph.
When his grumpiness is conveyed via text, his intonation is much more open to interpretation. If in my mind he sounds more like a pissed off badass that fits my vision of a man who is meant to save the world, I'm more invested in the story than if I'm rolling my eyes at some groan-inducing voice acting with awkward timing. Remember that scene with Tidus and Yuna where they're teaching each other to laugh? That scene isn't memorable because it's good. That scene is memorable because it's shift-in-your-seat uncomfortably awkward. "Ha ha ha ha ha! HA HA HA HA HA!"
Oof.
People often remark that "the book is better than the movie" and I'm inclined to believe that the same holds true to video games. Some games genuinely are better due to quality voice acting. Uncharted 1 and 2 are excellent examples of fantastic (possibly the finest?) voice acting currently in the gaming world. But those games were developed for a western audience and that's where the problem arises. JRPG's and their characters are meant for Japanese audiences, not us. Final Fantasy 13 may take the cake for most "cute in Japan but stab-worthy in the US" characters ever to grace the series: Vanille. There's a reason she's so hot, because hot damn is she annoying!
Rose-colored Nostalgia Glasses
I write this because the topic came to me when I recently fired up Final Fantasy 9, a game that I had never completed due to it coming out during a busy time of my life. The story feels so much better and the characters are so refreshing to me in a game that is a decade 10 old. Although knowing what I know now about modern JRPG's, I'm inclined to think that Princess Garnet was designed to be another example of the sad, despondent female lead character that plagues these games, but as I play through this game, I get to read her thoughts and envision her sounding however I want her to sound. There's a flexibility to it. A personal touch. My own interpretation of the Final Fantasy world. MY Garnet is a different Garnet than YOUR Garnet.
Japanese role playing games face a tough challenge. Cultural differences just make animations, gestures, conversation timing a chore. Localization to the western audiences is just too daunting of a task if they had to redo the bows, emo "tch" sound effects the angry protagonist makes, and strange running animations (again, Vanille. Why?). It would no longer represent the game the original designers and programmers envisioned.
So, maybe it isn't really 100% voice acting's fault that killed the genre, but I think it's one of the biggest contributors. Maybe it's just a type of game that, when going up against games like Mass Effect and Fallout 3, just isn't relevant anymore. The videogame equivalent of a horse and buggy trying to break the land speed record. What was revolutionary in it's own time is now relegated to the history books and bored gamers' blogs as they reminisce about the "good old days".
What do you think? Have I unfairly singled out one aspect of a genre as the reason they're dying a slow death, or is it something else completely that has caused this gradual downfall?
Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going back to Final Fantasy 9 and it's random encounters. I have some black mages to kill.
