There’s an episode of Kamen Rider Drive where --
Hey, wait!
Don’t close the page yet! I’m
going somewhere with this.
At first he was willing to go on a murder spree,
but the otaku asks the android to indulge a final request: to watch one more
episode of his favorite, obscure series.
The android does more than allow it; he watches it too, and ends up so
overwhelmed with emotion that he spares the otaku and starts thinking “Gee,
maybe humans aren’t so bad.”
Shinnosuke’s still suspicious (because most of the androids up to that
point have tried to kill him), but along the way he ends up watching the same
show. He doesn’t just become a fan of
the show; he also forms a bond with the android over it, and starts to think
“Gee, maybe killer androids aren’t so bad.”
Then said android gets killed by one of the main baddies, which fuels
and inspires a Rider-powered beat down by our hero. As is the custom.
It wasn’t just a fluke of an episode, or filler to
pad out a season. It helped Kamen Rider Drive push some of its
bigger thematic goals and ideas into the limelight. Plenty of care was given to make the villains
more pronounced, dynamic, and even likeable, which I’m sure anyone can
appreciate. At the same time, the series
put a big emphasis on trust in a number of ways. It showed that there were good androids and
bad humans -- but there were also
good humans and bad androids. By virtue
of gearing most episodes as a mystery to be solved, it asked viewers to
preemptively guess whodunit (i.e. who the culprit was, and/or who was secretly
an android in disguise), which made them question who to trust in the
story. And of course, Shinnosuke has to
learn who and how to trust again -- because even if he is a hotshot cop, he
needs a lot of help to overcome his foibles.
Like the depression, for one.
Still, I can’t help but think back to that one
episode. It seems flippant, but the
ideas within still stick with me. As
wonderful as it would be to befriend anyone and everyone, sometimes there are
walls as high as skyscrapers in the way.
How do you get over them? How do
you break them down? I don’t have a
perfect, infallible answer. As an
idealist, though, I’d like to think that it’s not impossible. And I’d like to think that Kamen Rider has offered up a solution --
or at least shown us a truth that’s easy to forget. Art -- especially good art -- can bring
people together in a way that nothing else can.
That little thesis statement comes from a biased
place, of course. You know me by now, I
hope; I put a lot of stock into art, whether it’s a video game, a movie, a TV
show, or anything of the sort. I expect
the best, and tend to not forgive the worst.
And of course, it’s my hope -- my dream -- to one day put art out there
that puts smiles on the faces of people all over the world. I have a personal stake in the matter that
clouds my words and actions alike, but I’m not about to apologize for it. Why?
Because it’s true. Art brings
people together, leveling the playing field so that we can all enjoy something
special together. So we can share it
with others. So we can experience
something that touches us, and know that others have been touched in turn.
Once upon a time, the late Roger Ebert famously
derided video games as incapable of being art.
He ended up walking that statement back, but he already did the damage
-- and because of that, people from all over stood up and shouted “NO, THAT’S
WRONG!” And it is wrong, without question.
As games continue to spread their influence and evolve technologically,
they’re going to become capable of so much more. Yet we don’t have to look to some far-off
point in the future to see the Promised Land.
We’ve already had Ico and Shadow of the Colossus to show us
something majestic. 2013 saw the release
of two serious heavy-hitters in BioShock
Infinite and The Last of Us. Indie games are, have, and will continue to
do the lord’s work, with stuff like Journey
offering a shining example.
And it’s not even a case of “Oh, games have to be
serious or thematically dense to be art.”
2013 also saw the release of Metal
Gear Rising -- hardly a candidate for academic analysis, but artistic
nonetheless for the craft and creativity packed into its run (seriously, the
first five or ten minutes would’ve been the final boss fight of any normal
game). The release of Street Fighter IV breathed new life into
the fighting game genre, which brought with it games that mixed technical
wizardry with bone-breaking forms of expression.
Mass Effect may
be a shooter at heart, but it gained fame by virtue of extensive conversations
and space misadventures. Overwatch has gone on to become the
best-selling PC game of all time by riding on the shoulders of its
irrepressibly-charming heroes. And
Nintendo? Even though its performance in
the console industry crests and falls, it’s still going after thirty years --
or more than a hundred, depending on when you start counting.
Whether it’s an entry from the old guard or a new
kid on the block, a good game is a good game -- something that people will
strive to experience and enjoy for themselves.
Just look at Super Smash Bros.
as an example; it got its start as a plucky N64 newcomer way back when, but
became a hit (and a million-seller) in no time.
Smash Bros. Melee is still
played competitively today, despite nearly being old enough to legally drive. Brawl brought
the world a story featuring dozens of Nintendo characters, even though its
legacy -- one more flattering than damning, I’d say -- will probably be an onslaught
of memes. I’m pretty sure I don’t have
to say much about Smash 4, because
this one video says plenty.
So one of the reasons why I take art so seriously
-- even if it’s something as seemingly irreverent as video games, as an example
-- is because art itself is serious. Its impact on the hearts and minds of people
can’t be understated; when done well, it can make people laugh, cry, cower in
fear, or tremble in awe. That’s on top
of its natural power to inspire joy, of course.
I’ve felt all of those emotions and more across the games I’ve played, and
I know I’m not the only one.
And because I know I’m not the only one, I feel
like I’m connected to others. It’s as if
I’m a part of something more -- bonded with others who’ve cleared the same
jumps, or carved up the same bosses, or uncovered the same secret items. What I pull from games might not be exactly
the same as others (because I’m needlessly obsessive to the point of near
self-destruction), but there is something pulled each time, whether we know it
or not. The better the art, the more we
can pull from it. The more we can share. The more we can learn. The more we can evolve.
But like I said, that’s just one of the reasons I
take art seriously. This may come as a
surprise to you guys reading this (the words of someone who basically wrote
novellas on why the modern Final Fantasy games
are utter tripe), but I’m not exactly the most popular guy. I never have been, and I never will be. Social interaction in the real world wasn’t
my forte, so I was pretty much on my own whenever stuff like lunch or recess
rolled around. And yeah, I’m pretty sure
you don’t need to film a documentary about me to figure out that the same
applies today. My default, comfortable
state is to be quiet and away from others.
I’m not completely helpless in social situations, but my preferences are
pretty obvious.
Part of the problem was (and still is, arguably)
that I always felt like exposing parts of myself was (and still is) a
mistake. It’s the sense -- the imagined
self-persecution -- that if I try and reach out to others, I’ll get rejected or
shoved aside. Why? Because of the person I was, and/or the
things I liked, I wasn’t allowed to be a part of anything. “Oh, you like X? You’re such a Y -- now get out of here!” Or “What?
You don’t like Z? Then what are
you doing here with us Ws?” If I was
smart, I would’ve sought out like-minded individuals who I could bond with over mutual interest in X or V or BYOB, but…well,
when have I ever said that I’m smart?
There were times when I felt alone, and hated, and
incapable of being loved. But art was
there for me to help move past that, or at least offer a distraction from
it. These days, though? And the days well before them? The advent of the internet has helped me realize,
and remember, that I’m not alone. There
are people out there that are willing to accept me, no matter what I like, or
what I think, or what I say. I’m not
some detestable freak because I like Kamen
Rider; I’m a fan who specializes in the Heisei era and knows a wealth of
henshin poses by heart. I’m not a loser
because I like JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure;
I’m a watcher of the anime who understands with each new episode that there’s
more to it than hyper-exposed memes.
And I’m not just some doofus who pisses away
dozens of hours mashing his thumbs against buttons and staring at screens. I mean, yeah, I do that with a keyboard and
monitor, but when it comes to video games, there’s more to it than that. I’m someone who can bear witness to the hard
work of dozens, if not hundreds, of sweat-soaked workers. Someone who can traverse virtual worlds and
take in their aesthetics. Someone who
can greet all sorts of dazzling, stunning characters from all walks of
life. Someone who can perform dizzying
feats of strength, intelligence, or courage with mere motions of the hand. Someone who gets to see more, do more, be
more.
I’m someone who gets to live through all of
that. And I’m not the only one. Gamers can come together in an instant via
online play to duke it out or fight together.
They don’t have to do it in person, but merely the fact that eSports are
on the rise -- with humble events hosted by the fighting game community, or
major tournaments that can draw the eye of major networks -- means that the
outreach is real. Sites like
Destructoid, Eurogamer, USGamer, Siliconera, Gematsu, and more act as gathering
grounds for information, interaction, and expression. That’s ignoring the presence of places like
Reddit, a fountain for media and the people who enjoy it. It’s all made possible by art -- by the
effect it has on us, and the bonds born because of it. We’re impacted, and thus become
intertwined.
But is that enough anymore?
My answer to that is yes. Still, I’m not so naïve as to think ideals
and well-wishes completely override reality.
Recent political events -- whose side you can easily guess had my vote -- have left a lot of people feeling
scared, confused, depressed, or angry.
Maybe all of them. Probably
more. From what I can gather, though,
the anger is real, and spreading. It
doesn’t take much to guess what one person or group that anger is directed
toward (and justifiably so), but it feels like it’s spilling all over the
place.
The optimist in me would like to think that the
anger is just something I’m imagining or blowing out of proportion -- like I’m
only pulling from a couple of instances scattered across a couple of news
outlets. I’d say the realist in me knows
better, but the realist has been rocking back and forth in a corner in the
fetal position since early November. I
don’t know what’s going on, and I don’t know if things are going to get
better. I’m inclined to believe that
they will, because -- well, I’m the Eternal Optimist, and it’s kind of my
thing. With that said, I can’t believe
things have gotten to this point.
Many, many, many, many, many issues are entangled in this situation, so just thinking about
them leaves my brain in knots. If you’re
looking for straight answers or solutions as to why this happened, you’re
asking the wrong guy. In fact, what I’m
about to write next may be as wrong as it gets -- but since things are already
off the rails, I hope you’ll indulge a crazy theory for a moment.
Based on what I’ve read, there’s a lot of tension
between dissenting groups right now.
Dissention, disagreements, mistrust, suspicion, derision, hatred,
whatever you want to call it -- there are people out there who are loyal to
certain ideas and comrades, but it’s at the expense of others. It’s the self-persecution I fear, only it’s
real and turned into a weapon by anyone with the fervor to wield it -- and when
that happens, it just becomes straight-up persecution. “Oh, you like X? You’re such a Y -- now get out of here!” “What?
You don’t like Z? Then what are you
doing here with us Ws?” Or,
alternatively: “You’re a Q, and I hate you.”
I’ve been lucky enough to dodge that stuff in my
life…except for this one teacher in my middle school’s computer lab, who seemed
to resent the existence of me, the one guy in there who actually did work on a
regular basis. But anyway, the point is
that there are a lot of divides in our world, whether we like it or not. How do you reverse that? How do you reverse ironclad opinions, forged
over the course of days, weeks, months, years, or even generations? How do you change minds when people aren’t
even remotely willing to listen?
One thing’s for sure: constantly shouting others
down, or disrespecting their opinions, or persecuting them just ‘cause probably isn’t the best solution. Push against others, and they’re likely to
push back -- and that’s got to be the case if you’re questioning something they
believe with all their hearts. So maybe
the solution isn’t to push. Maybe it’s
not about trying to break down their logic, or prove a point, or do them a
service like some angel from on high.
Maybe the solution is to equalize everyone as much as possible with
suggestions. With ideas. With art.
There’s a common saying in the writing world:
“Show, don’t tell.” Instead of telling
an audience that it’s raining really hard, for example, there are techniques
that can suggest, imply, or prove that it’s raining really hard -- and as a
result, the overall execution becomes much more effective. I’d imagine that mindset applies to more than
just writing, but it also extends to our world at large. Instead of telling people what they should believe in, good art can show them that there’s more to believe
in. No matter the medium, it can be a
tool to show that there are more paths worth walking, and more ideals worth
upholding. Whether it’s to inspire us to
be better people or espousing a worthwhile belief, art can be a better teacher
than most teachers -- because you won’t even notice you’ve learned something
until it’s much too late.
And failing that?
Even if art in its myriad forms doesn’t inspire someone to do a mental
or spiritual U-turn, there’s still the basic, inherent benefit: it brings us together. It becomes a fixture of our culture --
something that we can share and bond over.
Even if it’s abstract, even if it’s flippant, even if it’s as unreal as
it gets, we need art in our lives to connect.
We can use it to leap over all sorts of boundaries; age, race, class,
orientation, loyalty, occupation, religion, education, location, and more
become far less rigid in the face of a story worthy of our time. When something truly special -- or even
something that’s at least “good enough”, in some cases -- touches down, we can
put aside our differences. The
differences don’t even matter, because we’re pulled from our world into
theirs. We may have screens or pages
between our worlds, but we’re all still pulled from our normal lives into
something truly, routinely fantastic.
As someone who wants to be a writing hero -- as
someone who’ll get there one day or die trying -- that’s what I choose to
believe in. Because I’ve been touched
before by art, I want to do the same for others on the biggest scale possible. But until that day comes, I know that there
are countless other creators who are willing to make their strides -- if they
haven’t already. It’s true that not
everything out there is a winner, but there’s still more than enough to give
the people comfort. Ideas. Hope.
And, maybe most crucially, a haven.
There are a lot of things we have trouble agreeing
on in this world. That’s going to be
true for a while yet. But even if
reality is cruel and seemingly incompatible with frivolities like “peace” and
“love” and “tolerance”, we can still strive toward it on a personal level. We can still bond over the things we love,
and recognize that there are those who care passionately about the things we
like and dislike. We can walk away from
art with fresh new perspectives, and pass them on to others -- and even if they
aren’t realistic, or cheesy, or childish, they still matter. Because of art, they can make the world a
better place.
Because of art -- because of the bonds that unite
us all -- we can make the world a
better place.
Every last one of us.
All we need is drive.
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