Clover,
Carol J. "Her Body, Himself: Final Girl." Men Women and Chainsaws:
Gender in the Modern Horror Film. London: BFI, 1992. 35-41. Print.
Rehak,
Bob. (2003). Playing at Being. In:
Wolf, Mark J.P. and Perron, Bernard. (2003). The Video Game Theory Reader. New York, Routledge pp. 103-127.
The avatar, the guise through which an
audience sees the world in film and other media, is essential not only in
filmic terms but even more essential to the analysis of the video game. Both
Bob Rehak’s Playing at Being and
Carol J. Clover’s Men Women and Chainsaws
discuss the use of avatar in different but allied ways.
Playing
at Being discusses the historical development of the videogame avatar, starting
at its earliest interactive presence in Spacewar!
to even more complicated and organic uses in FPS (First Person Shooter) games
as recent as id Software’s Quake.
Spacewar! such wow, very graphics
Quake - yeah, this is nightmare fuel.
Although not a totally history centered piece, it does use historical texts to
paint an in depth picture of how the player controlled avatar morphed from
dots, to inorganic forms, such as the rocket ship, to more organic forms like
PACman and later to first person organic forms. In addition it uses psychoanalysis
techniques to analyze the persona of the first person avatar and its early
appearances as an unsuccessful gimmick in films like Lady in the Lake (1947). For his over-arching thesis, Rehak uses
the concept of the “mirror stage” in early childhood development as a basis for
why humans are so fascinated with game play. This theory can be utilized easily
as it accounts for the function where the avatar on screen moves as the player
sending the signals to the controller tells it to, creating a mirror link. He
says that “videogames ‘reflect’ players back to themselves” and that first
person games (most of which were shooting games at the time of the articles release)
come the closest to this intrinsic mirroring.
“The videogame avatar would seem to
meet the criteria of Lacan’s objet petit a. Appearing on screen in place of the
player, the avatar does double duty as self and other, symbol and index. As
self, its behavior is tied to the player’s through an interface: its literal
motion, as well as its figurative triumphs and defeats, result from the
player’s actions. At the same time, avatars are unequivocally other. Both
limited and freed by difference from the player, they can accomplish more than
the player alone; they are supernatural ambassadors of agency” (Rehak 4).
While
Rehak denotes the concept of the videogame avatar as both other and self, he
does not address the half of the avatar that is “other” in any specific way and
instead focuses primarily on “self”. This leaves a large omission to his otherwise
sound theory: in what ways can the “other” be “other” while still coming to
represent a very fixed impression of “self” upon the player? Can the "other" go so far as to change genders? And if an "other" does go so far, are they allowed to be a complete person with a prerendered gender and sexuality? It is here that
turning to film theories is necessary.
Boy Fang? Girl Fang? Is there actually a difference?
Theories
of secondary selves are many and varied, but the most interesting to compare to
its similar purpose in videogames is the use of the “Final Girl” as avatar for
the viewer in horror and slasher films. Clover’s book hones in on the specific
motif of the final girl and how she comes to represent the survivor character
and avatar for the audience through her introduction as the main protagonist
and masculinization. Clover uses many examples to show how the final girl
utilizes the third of the movie solely focused on her and her escape to give
the audience a subjective view of her horrifying circumstances. The final girl
uses creative, intelligent thinking that has largely been absent from the
majority of the film. She is largely lacking in a sexuality of any form, either
being afraid, previously hurt, or otherwise sexless.
Clover argues that these
functions essential make the final girl a representation of the young males the
film is directed towards: they are both marginalized, unversed in sexual
experience, yet see themselves as survivors. The final girl takes the form of
an other that is both to be objectified and identified with. Her duel function,
as voyeur and object, can be transferred to the function of the avatar other,
particularly in a videogame sense, where the player relates to the onscreen
character in a similar function – as both the physical manifestation of self
and an idealized other.
So figure a) identifies way more easily with figure b) #twinsies
“The
Final Girl is boyish, in a word. Just as the killer is not fully masculine, she
is not fully feminine—not, in any case, feminine in the ways of her friends.
Her smartness, gravity, competence in mechanical and other practical matters,
and sexual reluctance set her apart from other girls and ally her, ironically,
with the very boys she fears or rejects…” (Clover 40)
Understanding the function of the
avatar is a complex process. Where most of the research on the avatar has been
in terms of the third person, filmic avatar, this literature only begins to
delve into the concepts regarding the function of the avatar in a Gaming Space,
as opposed to a filmic one. While Rehak’s article gave a long and in-depth look
into the psychoanalytical function of the avatar as self, he failed to fully
address the concept of otherness that is necessary in his analysis of the
avatar as both self and other. The small portion of Clover’s book on the Final
Girl hit on the ways in which something that should appear as an “other”, a
female heroine, can be identifiable more easily to a young male film goer than
a female one, at least on the surface. Whether a similar circumstance is true
of video game heroines is not yet confirmable, yet it is very apparent, as of
now, that many heroines are, similarly, desexed through the use of phallic
weaponry, undefined sexuality, and ingenuity of the player mind, despite being
the object of a player oriented gaze.
In addition, Clover points to horror and
slasher flicks as methods of recreating a “hero plot” and the addition of a
heroine that survives is simply a reorientation of the hero plot. She seems to
define such a hero plot as being essentially masculine, but is it? Is it
possible to have a female character save the day without it becoming a
masculine plot? Or is “saving the day” a male function of being?
Oddly heavy tonight on the FFXIII I tonight, I know -
Do not turn off the power while your progress is saving.
LEX saved the Game
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