“Once upon a time, I was part of a group who spent the evening at the home of a wealthy businessperson. While we engaged in a game of chance, some of my group heard a noise on the roof. Turned out, it was assassins infiltrating the building. Since we were highly experienced warriors, we leaped into action—some of us literally. And it was an epic moment when I leaped over a railing, tumbled down to the ground, and landed at a dead run to intercept one of the enemy.”
Or at least it was for my D&D rogue.
🐉
I’ve been seeing some strange and, frankly, disturbing videos lately that seem to involve the amalgamation of video game footage with real-life atrocities to apparently be used as some kind of performance ad campaign. I’m not a fan either of glorifying violence in this way or of the violence itself, and it’s really gotten me thinking about how this type of media tries to equate real harm done to real people with imaginary harm done to imaginary people.
Such as in a TTRPG. Or a video game.
Since I’ve talked about my TTRPG history, I’ll pause to chat about video games too. My game of choice growing up was Mortal Kombat, which I admittedly was not all that great at. But I still got a zing whenever I beat the guy at the top of the tower or actually got the controller to perform a fatality finish.
Oh, I was also into Streets of Rage II (to date myself). As a side note, I tried playing this one again after I hadn’t for several years, and it was pretty sad how fast I got to game over.
So, with my lack of video-game skills laid out for all to see, it likely comes as no surprise that I gravitated toward TTRPGs to feel epic. It’s a lot easier to just say “I’m going to jump over the railing, tumble down to the floor below, and then run up the stairs to intercept the guy” then it is to actually do so, or (for me) to get a controller to do the thing without my character flailing around as if being electrocuted. When I say I’m going to pull this epic move and then the dice cooperate for me to pull off the epic move, the resulting zing is not unlike my feelings of accomplishment with Mortal Kombat. And, I’d wager, not unlike anyone’s zing when they get a game to pull off something they think is awesome, especially if there’s no way they’d pull off that move in real life.
This feeling isn’t just restricted to things like jump-tumble-chases either. When my TTRPG group of fourth-level characters took down three sixth-level assassins, we felt badass. When I did 12 points of damage in one turn (which for a rogue wielding two daggers without sneak attack triggered is pretty good) and dropped the guy I was fighting, I felt impressive. Even better, turned out the armor the guy was wearing was the armor I wanted. So not only did I drop him, I looted, hard.
If you’re a gamer in any sense of the word, you know this moment. You know the feeling of emerging victorious from a really tough fight you weren’t sure you’d get out of without needing the cleric to swoop in and heal your sorry unconscious butt. You know what it’s like to feel like a legend in your mind (even if 12 damage from a fourth-level character isn’t legendary by any stretch).
And since you also know only imaginary people were harmed in the making of this TTRPG battle, you know it’s okay to feel legendary.
But now imagine that every fight your TTRPG group fought was actually going on in another dimension somewhere with real consequences for real people living real lives. Including you and your friends.
Not so legendary anymore, is it?
This, to me, is what splicing together video game footage with images of actual violence does. It combines the imaginary with the real. It creates this disconnect where you might be unsure where fiction ends and reality begins. It equates the legendary feeling of imaginary success with actual harm being done, which opens up the possibility for viewers to start feeling like the real-life harm is the same as the fictional harm.
For the person out there who’s going to ask, no, I am not saying video games cause violence. I am saying that repeated reinforcement of a message, particularly through vivid visual imagery, can start to make that message feel okay. Positive. Right.
Legendary.
So with these videos (and any other combination of reality and fantasy), it’s up to us to see the difference. To understand that imaginary violence and real violence are not the same thing. And to realize that fictional legends would not necessarily be legendary if they were real.
As for me, I’ll stick to my imaginary legendary-ness.
👋 Fair travels,
Mary
P.S. A big thanks to StarGlade from Pixabay for the image.