Playing With Dolls
Apparently, I play with dolls.
And what’s maybe more shocking than an adult man with two young children playing with dolls, is that you, too, play with dolls.
If you’ve played any of the Tiger Woods games, Too Human (TH) or any other role-playing game, or Rock Band 1 or 2, then you’ve also probably done the equivalent of playing with dolls.
Why am I playing with dolls? I’m a manly-man; I watch football, can change the oil in my car, and can drink real beer…
I was struck by this realization the other day after playing dolls with my two-year-old daughter, when I then went to play Too Human (after putting her to bed). It became particularly clear when I chose to keep a cool-looking but weaker helmet equipped rather than putting on a better, but more idiotic-looking one. I just couldn’t bring myself to equip the dorky, ear-muffs-gone-horribly-wrong-but-superior helmet. I wanted my character to look cool.
“What will happen if I use the helmet that is also a crime-against-all-that-is-right-and-true-in-armour-design and let someone else into my game? S/he’ll laugh at me. Er, I mean, s/he’ll laugh at my goofy-looking Baldur.”
You see, that was the problem. I was projecting myself into the character, so that if my avatar looked like a goof, then I must be a goof for dressing him up like that. It was everyone’s worst nightmare from junior high school now plaguing a middle-aged man; a middle-aged man who plays videogames, sure, but a middle-aged man nonetheless.
That night I realized that even though I might try to tell myself that I’m merely equipping the best gear for the battle, and that it’s the game design that keeps me changing Baldur’s outfit rather than my desire to play dress-up, in reality I was doing the same thing that my daughter was doing with her dolls. Except that I wasn’t combing and playing with my character’s hair – or I wasn’t until my wife and I created new characters in Rock Band 2.
And just when you thought that gamers (not just me) couldn’t get any more obsessed with dolls, along comes the New Xbox Experience. Every hardcore gamer, who normally would never think of engaging in such childish behaviour (unless you count dressing up a Master Chief avatar for multiplayer Halo 3 or picking co-ordinating camouflage ensembles in Rainbow Six: Las Vegas 2), is, in a few weeks, going to be forced to play dress-up with their dashboard Avatar.
Why am I playing with dolls? I’m a manly-man; I watch football, can change the oil in my car, and can drink real beer (even though the calories are starting to make my hips look a little larger than I would like). And moreover, why is playing with dolls so popular amongst gamers? The more I thought about, the more a few causes seemed to stand out in my mind.
One reason, at least in some cases, is to show our status to other gamers. Think of getting a complete set of elite armour in Too Human (or World of Warcraft, or any other role-playing game with a multi-player component), or whatever the best set of armour was in Halo 3, or the most difficult-to-earn scope in Call of Duty: Modern Warfare. In these circumstances, dressing an avatar is a way of demonstrating to others our status relative to theirs, or showing our dedication and proficiency at a game. It’s the online form of bragging to our friends, much the way people used to brag by posting their name on a game in an arcade, or by earning an impossible achievement; it’s another, highly visible, way of proving our skill, and possibly worth, to others.
A jaded anti-consumption advocate might argue that playing dress-up in videogames is just another expression of a culture that conditions its members from an early age that they always need something new, that there’s always something better, and if they don’t have the right boots, hat, sword, or golf club, then they’re somehow irrelevant, out-of-touch, foolish, and lame. S/he might suggest it’s just another means of teaching people that they always need to get new things, even if their old stuff is just fine. This advocate might even be inclined to cite a line from a dystopian touchstone like “Ending is better than mending. The more stitches, the less riches” (Brave New World, Aldous Huxley, 1932). Good thing I’m not a jaded anti-consumption advocate.
More commonly accepted ideas about game design suggest that giving gamers chances to customize avatars makes it easier for them to identify with the main character and imagine themselves in the game. This is the notion of game playing as fantasy fulfillment: we all wish we could be the immortal hero/ine who saves the world, so we seek opportunities in games that fulfill that wish. In a game like Fable 2, this might mean that a slightly, mildly, overweight and barely middle-aged person who used to be athletic, creates an avatar who is muscular and athletic—an idealized version of him or herself—allowing him or her to vicariously experience the prowess of his or her youth. Of course, in Fable 2, with its carefully designed simulation elements, what starts out as an idealized form of oneself can quickly become a sadly accurate version of one’s current body type and physical abilities (damn delicious, delectable pies!). In Guitar Hero: World Tour, if people can create avatars that have faces and body types similar to their own, then it’s easier for them to imagine themselves on-stage, with millions of adoring fans attempting to throw their underwear at them, or waiting backstage for my autograph, or trying to break into the green room to satisfy my every . . .
Er, where was I?
A less common, but related explanation to the idea of avatars as wish-fulfillment is that creating and dressing up avatars in a game is a safe and simple method of experimenting with identities we could not, or would not, experiment with in real life. It might mean that someone like my wife, Monique, creates a wild, pink-haired, tattooed persona in Rock Band 2, not because that’s who she wants to be or because it’s her dream version of herself, but simply because she wants to try that identity out without having to go through the pain of real tattoos or live with the anguish of a questionable hair-colour choice or deal with the scowls from our son’s pre-school teachers when she drops him off. In a game, trying out new identities is just a form of non-threatening and risk-free play. That is, until someone joins your game in co-op and wants to know why a slightly, mildly, overweight and barely middle-aged man is playing a female character. Even still, aside from ruining one’s reputation in all future online games and creating a touchstone for all wiseacres at your home videogame community, experimenting with characters in games is largely without consequence; certainly without the same consequences you might face if you cross-dressed in your real life. Well, at least without the same financial consequences.
All three of these explanations are commonly provided for why adults play the equivalent of dress-up dollies in videogames, but there’s one other explanation that is more subtle, but possibly equally significant.
Because the vast majority of modern games are based on destruction and competition, they tend not to provide an outlet for a fundamental, powerful, and far more positive, part of the human psyche: creativity. Dressing up our avatars in different combinations of armour or clothing, changing the colours or patterns of clothing, modifying hair styles and physical appearance, all give us a means of creating something, expressing part of ourselves, in the virtual world. We are all, in essence, budding fashion designers. Of course this creativity is limited by the items and customization options developers decide to build into their games, but it’s still an expression of our desperate need to leave our mark, to express ourselves, to form something that feels unique and uniquely ours, and to have other people see and appreciate it.
When you look at the car designs in Forza Motorsport 2, or the Forge levels in Halo 3, or the levels in Little Big Planet, or the songs being created in Guitar Hero: World Tour, there is obviously a widespread and compelling desire on the part of gamers to do more than just shoot stuff and beat people. Artistic creation, level design, music creation – fashion design is just another, possibly less obvious but nonetheless creative, outlet for gamers who want a different kind of game experience.
When I had my revelation while playing Too Human, I was reminded of the feelings I had a few years ago while playing Viva Piñata (VP). With VP, it was the feeling of pride at having created something out of nothing, of creating a lush, unique, and productive garden, filled with a menagerie of animals where before there was only an empty wasteland; with TH it was pride in having created a cool-looking badass that others would want to emulate. Different games and experiences, but the pride of creation was the same.
Of course, maybe I’m over thinking the whole experience. Maybe a doll is just a doll, and an avatar isn’t. Or maybe the real reason for all of this customization of avatars is that deep down inside of us, we all just want to play with dolls. And maybe, despite the scorn some adults direct towards people who play videogames, subconsciously we know that it is less than the scorn that would be directed towards us if we told people our hobby was playing with dolls – which it is.
