Long life to new flesh![1]
1. This paper brought us up against a series of
unforeseen difficulties. Above all, we
realised that the experience of
videogames entails the acquisition of some sort of basic competence, without
which it is hard to get into the schema of the game. The use of technical instruments (“hardware” equipment) and of
specific programmes (games “software”) only, in fact, become forms of real
entertainment when used by people who are either mad about games or are
experts. On the contrary, coming into
contact with these “entertainment machines” actually becomes frustrating if you
do not know how to use them. This
primary factor made us – and allowed us – to look for information on videogames
using other media. We discovered that
a real culture has emerged in the world of videogames (culture of play – pixel culture), made up of groups who share a
passion, language and habit. Those
who belong to this culture sometimes create a virtual community - gathered around several media (particularly
specialist magazines) – which can be found on the Net. Videogames are therefore not only a form of
entertainment, but have some characteristics which indicate the potential to
function as a medium in their own right, able to generate and diffuse
discourse.
The world of videogames is a rather complex one, with a past (the
generations of previous games), a present, and a future (the arrival of new
versions, new technologies and new games).
The fact that stories are continued leads videogame users to think way
beyond the end of any single game. The
tension is therefore transferred from the level of the game itself to the level
of the overall subjects and the characters – of whom the heroines take up the
most space and attention. The sense of these texts is not expressed by
the individual game, but through a combination of the discursive configurations
which develop around it, and which define the world of the textual genres, the
stories, the characters which inhabit them, and the storylines which they
generate. The flux of meaning which
thereby emerges around videogames has strong intertextual elements: the
individual videogame therefore fits into a fairly wide context: specialist
magazines, comics, internet sites, films.
Given the complexity of this world, our original intention has been
subject to some variations. The idea of
defining a typology of Lara Croft’s sisters – a task which would have required
much greater knowledge, competence and skill at videogames than we actually
have – has turned into a description of some of these figures, their identities
and their bodies. In fact, what is most
striking, or better, what strikes us most
(obviously not being the target of such games) in examining the female images
on offer, is their transformation into – to quote the magazines in this sector
– “sex symbols”, and therefore, the game of seduction that users are involved
in. What sort of cultural construction
of sexualised bodies are we dealing with?
Can we call it a visible map of desire, a digital demonstration of lust
shared amongst various communities and cultures? We are proposing several directions for research, so far only
ever hinted at, a series of questions and possible answers which are completely
open.
But before going into these matters, we need to take a brief look at the
games and their environments/worlds.
2. Videogames constitute the realisation of a prototype of
interactivity. That is to say, the
text requires that its ideal reader make choices during the course of the
game. Put simply, we usually define it
as interactive literature as opposed to sequential literature, which
anticipates the organisation of an articulate text in a linear fashion. The interactive format of videogames, based
on the player being continually asked to make choices, permits greater
identification with the characters and stronger relationships with the
images. Thanks to technological
advances, the videogame experience is no longer only audio-visual but now also
tactile[2].
There are,
however, different levels of interactivity: more or less ‘weak’, more or less
realised. Both in games in the third
person and those in the first person (that is to say, when a player chooses a
character and enters the game in that role), there is no actual acknowledgement
of the viewer. The user is not
perceived or recognised by the characters, but he/she becomes a character in
the game. Especially when handling
female images (as we will see later on, for example, in Kiseake – a doll you
can undress), these images do not look at the player, but rather react to the
stimuli sent by the console or the mouse.
There is, therefore, a particular superimposition of the levels of
enunciation. Along with the “here and
now” of the game – and therefore along with the present of the enunciation
referring to the situation during which the text is being used, we find the
enunciated text in which the observed and manipulated figure remains trapped,
so to speak. Furthermore, there is no
possibility of interruption and of reciprocal and simultaneous influence :
conversation or moves are often
predefined, and therefore non-negotiable in the interaction. We are thus quite a long way from the
interactivity of the Net, chat lines and MOOs.
3.
Still
on the subject of the interactivity of the games, and to more precisely define
the field in which we are working, we
must first make the distinction between videogames and computer games. To play with the former type, which are the
subject of this study, a PlayStation
or other such console is required (for example, Nintendo), which has to be plugged into a television set. Computer games are instead games which are
played on an actual computer. Many of
these are today available on the Net, and can be played by several users at the
same time, thereby exploiting the potentials of Internet: interactivity and
synchrony.
Videogames belong to different categories: the logical course of the characters’ actions follows the rules of
the genre the particular game is based on (adventure, horror, picchiaduro),
slotting into a partly predetermined plot.
We have found that female protagonists are most common in video games
pertaining to the following genres:
-adventure: adventure games are based on the accumulation of a long series of
objects, which are in turn used to resolve riddles. The game has a moderate pace.
The final adventures are based on an expert knowledge of cinema. In some cases, the use of direction and
subjectivity create the idea of an internal gaze of the videogame (level of
enunciation). Examples of this type are
Tomb Raider and the world famous Lara
Croft, Resident Evil: Code Veronica,
with Claire Redfield. Resident Evil is, in fact, considered
the forerunner of a new genre, known as “Survival Horror”;
-picchiaduro: these are a lot like comics, and are sometimes even defined as “comics
that move”[3]. They involve warriors who fight it out to
the last in duels. The games go at a
whirlwind pace. They are usually
well-directed, and pick out a variety of camera angles (if you think, for
example, about Tekken 3 with Ling
Xiaoyu);
-role play: which are like adventure but
provide action which is less repetitive and abstract. The action unfolds in a series of long and complex epic stories
of the exploits of a band of characters, and includes objects and events which
belong to the world of magic (think of the Final
Fantasy saga). The competence
necessary for exploration and acclimatisation is acquired throughout the course
of the game. Obsessive attention to
detail and to the weapons available is required from the player. The pace is quite slow;
-hentai: erotic games (erotic manga).
Considering the subject of our analysis, it seemed appropriate that we
should add this group of games, generally absent from traditional
typologies. Search engines usually list
these games in categories dedicated to eroticism and sex[4]. Hentai
include images, cartoons and games based on mainly female characters. They often use heroines who have already
become famous through other games, thereby exploiting their fame and satisfying
the curiosity of their public. Think,
for example, of the character Lara Croft, originally from Tomb Raider and then used with erotic valence in Nude Raider[5].
In the past, both videogames and computer games required the presence of
male characters. It was only in 1981
that Namco proposed Ms Pac-Man, a
character with exactly the same abilities as her male counterpart, but who
differed in her “feminine” look (she wore a red bow on her head…). When one came across female figures, they
were confined to the role of ‘object of value’, following the classic
conventions of the fairytale: they were generally princesses who represented
the trophy won after overcoming a series of obstacles and tests (for example,
the games Prince of Persia and Double Dragon). In other words, there was no female
identity, either constructed or suggested: the characters had neither name nor
history. These digital stories instead
actively exalted the fixed nature of the narrative structures and the thematic
roles of traditional tales. What is
more, they were functional for the particular type of plot – deliberately
simple and easily deconstructible – on which the games were based. Before Lara Croft, according to some
feminist theorists the female presence
was actually carved into the very construction of the virtual environments: in
their “uterine” architecture, full of tunnels, caverns and secret passages.
But the woman as an object of value has certainly not disappeared, even
if today’s female characters are subjects with their own narrative programmes
and their own objects of value. An
example is the videogame Toki Meki, which is extremely popular in Japan. The aim of the game is to win the love of
the beautiful Shiori Fujusaki – an aim, if you look closely, pursued by users
ageing from 15 to 35. Her role is,
therefore, that of a prize to be won; in other words, to exist in function and
as a conquest. Each user has to go out
with Shiori and try to start a relationship with her, based on a series of
multiple choice questions and answers to which the user must suitably
respond. For example, Shiori might say,
“Isn’t it a beautiful view?”: to respond to this observation, the player has
three possible choices, but only the answer, “I hadn’t noticed, I’ve been
watching you the entire time” will allow him to win the beautiful woman’s
heart.
The first female protagonists came onto the scene with the aim of
drawing girls towards this form of consumption. In the course of time, however, these characters have worn
increasingly scanty clothes, showing off bodies like super models, to attract
the attention of a purely male public.
It must be said that within
the games, the thematic roles carved for female characters frequently continue
to mimic those of males (explorer-adventurer, warrior), based on physical
attributes and values related to strength and agility, aggressiveness and
determination. One such example is
Ling Xiaoyu in Tekken 3, who fights using
Japanese martial arts techniques, and has an agile and nimble body which moves
like those of her male companions.
But
on thematic roles like these, others are superimposed. Shiori, together with Lara Croft and many
other videogame heroines, indeed exists in more than one guise: from the one
just described – innocent and demure – to softporn and even hardcore
versions. Long before the advent of
archaeologists or secret agents, policewomen and “cops”, some of these female
characters – usually adolescents dressed in school uniforms – had, in fact,
already started to migrate to soft porn videogames, thereby initiating a sort
of interactive relationship with their fans.
Among the most common, is a programme called Kiseake, a real paper doll
at the disposal of users. They are in
command of an image which they can slowly undress, choosing where to start from
and the order in which they remove each item of clothing. Alongside the soft porn versions there are
also hard core programmes, where these images (image-bodies?) – often the same
ones with minimal variations in ‘look’ – can be raped, tied up, humiliated and
abused using dildos, ropes and used maxi pads.
In other words, users have different “levels of sexuality” at their
disposal, from predetermined and platonic courtship to no-holds-barred torture
and sadomasochism – always, of course, in order to “score”.
Female
figures such as those in videogames are, however, migrating out of the games
towards the Net: virtual idols, virtual models agencies, and now even anchor
women, like Ananova – a digital product bought for 1 million pounds by the
British mobile phone group, Orange. Her
face, similar to those of all female avatars (full lips, big eyes), will read
the news 24 hours a day, “more quickly and efficiently than any flesh and blood
newscaster could”. The newspapers[6]
are calling it a hybrid derived by “crossing” a Spice Girl with Lara
Croft. Is the artificial body imitating
the human one, or vice versa? In any
case, the heroines of the videogames, together with their hybrids, seem to be
consumer objects for a predominantly male public[7]. (N.B. in contrast with Japan and
skim-reading of magazines where fans have generally been shown to be girls).
4. We should now take a closer look at the characters. From a semiotic point of view, the same games can be studied as
complex texts linked to more than one genre.
For example, Resident Evil
does not function as a simple adventure (the
genre with which it identifies), but presents a very articulate narrative
structure – to such effect that some would even class it as the origin of a new
genre.
Interactivity is highlighted here and put into action: in fact, the
player – by managing the character and making choices through him/her[8]
– uses an established discursive tone, moves in certain environments rather
than others, and encounters obstacles or help.
In general, the actual course of the game is chosen by the player
through the moves made by the character they direct.
The fascination relating to the adventure is enhanced by a series of
other elements, like setting, the use of direction, the presence of background
sound effects or music. In addition to
the backdrops – which in 2D already offered a variety of interactive
possibilities – 3D renders the game experience still more compulsive, by
creating the possibility of frame movements in real time, and of following the
action using subjective shots. The introduction
of depth indeed represents the most existential dimension, and is considered in
semiotic terms “as one of the most effective tools in the
potentiation/strengthening of an impression of spatial reality” (Cavicchioli
1996: 22).
In directing characters, the space becomes a place of experience of a dynamic nature, lived through the movement
of bodies and gaze. Within these
settings, the view of what is visible is represented through the use of a
cinematic grammar: so several points of view regarding space and time are used,
resulting in the realisation of a sort of emulation of the effect of
reality. All this is continuously
accompanied by a range of sounds comprising music, voices or noises.
One of the most interesting moments of the games is that of the
introduction, which determines the starting point of the story and the
presentation of its characters. In some
cases, (if you think about Resident Evil:
Code Veronica) the introduction serves as a means to describe the plot, and
consequently to drive the “crusade” of the character to be directed. The characters are presented in this way in
order to describe their personalities.
Claire Redfield, for example, appears right from the first introductory
scene (in sequence after the prologue) astride a motorbike, wearing next to
nothing. The look in her eyes, the
decisiveness of her movements, the way she walks and rides seem to pertain more
to a male than a female role. This same
Claire, however, is feminised in the magazines, articles and images of her on
the Net. This is where characters are
transposed from the stories depicted in individual videogames to assume
alternative roles: the discursive configurations which evolve and circulate
around the heroines ensure that they assume other roles. It is in the broadest context of videogames
that these heroines exhibit well-defined characters, and are significant in other ways. In fact, they undergo a process of
“personification”, whereby a clearer choice of gender occurs, together with the
creation of biographical elements and
stories about their private lives.
These characters therefore begin to become part of a wider (possible)
variety of worlds: not only do they belong to a setting which is pure fantasy
(the videogame), but they also appear in other media, attracting the curiosity
and attention of readers who possibly do not even know of the videogames, or have never played
them. To us, this seems to be the
fundamental moment in the activation of the process of transition from
character to idol, just as has already happened to other virtual idols on the Web: from the pop singer Kyoko Date to the
myriad of models (Aimee, Busena, Webbie, ecc.). The circulation of discourses,
mainly via new media (web pages, chat-rooms, newsgroups, mailing lists)[9]
has sealed the celebrity status of these characters.
At present, we are thus witnessing the phenomenon of contamination with
other textual forms: both cinema and comics are starting to develop projects
which translate the life stories of
virtual idols. As well as this, all the
various forms of erotic literature (from hentai
to Playboy) have already made space for their spicy adventures. But it is
these texts which form a sort of character identity, almost completely absent
from the games themselves, in which the subjects narrative programme (for
example, Lara Croft or Claire Redfield) is basically to eliminate adversaries
and obstacles. So, we are mainly
talking about empty figures, images which need completing with a past, present
and future, with desires and worries – imagined by other authors, by the media
which talk about them, but above all, by the fans who project their own worries
and desires onto them. An identity that
is therefore completely malleable, which is not narrated by the subjects to be
defined, rather by other voices who fill these image-bodies with a
history. And it is towards these very
bodies that we now turn our attention.
5. “The opposition between dead, heavy meat and
the ethereal body of information – the ‘I’ without body – is one of the
dualisms which define cyberculture.” (Dary, 1997). Cyberculture is often described as being laden with hatred of the
human body – a hatred which originates from its imperfections, its dirtiness,
its mortality. A culture which
therefore exults either an ‘I’ without a body, which is replaced by the net; or
a “firm body” – more and more common among pop stars and actors/actresses –
transformed into futuristic sculpture with well-defined edges and smooth
surfaces. When there’s no other way,
the body is made metallic. The feminine
images which we have briefly outlined are also rigid and firm; every trace of
vulnerability, softness and humidity has been banished. If, in the various metaphysical examples of
the body, there exists a division between a soft, fluid and liquid female body
and a hard, organised, phallic body devoid of a womb – a body-machine –
videogame heroines would definitely appear to favour the latter type.
Of the female body, the curves remain, but not the softness, removed
like whale blubber, together with the womb.
Liberated from a very precise feminine mystique, Lara Croft and her
sisters, however, represent another: that of the firm and indestructible body,
above all that of a seductive but not ambiguous or ambivalent body, unable to
give birth or transform, therefore devoid of mystery.
Might hatred or celebration of the body, and attempts at liberation from
its weight, its fatigue and its vulnerability therefore translate, to quote an
apparent cliché, as a widespread uncertainty about its destiny? Is it, quite
simply, just about repressed anxieties looking for relief in the destruction of
the bodies of others, or in the simulation of such destruction? A lot of videogames are violent, and female
body-war machines take part in this violence.
There are games in which splatters invade the screen and you can find
weapons which, for example, if well-placed in the weak spot of an adversary’s
head, can suck their brains out. But
in what terms can we attempt to talk about or describe the bodies of Lara Croft
and her sisters? Lara Croft, reclining like a pin-up in a swimming costume
beside the sea, to publicise the new version of her videogame – can we call
that a body? We are certainly dealing
with images used as bodies, the meaning of which is a body, even though there
is no referent to call upon. Those that
die and are reborn at the end of each game – are they bodies? In reality, it is the user who dies and is
reborn through the ‘body’ of the character.
Their vulnerability is therefore attributable to whoever uses them, and
to the speed and dexterity of that person.
The character exists above and beyond the concrete game considered as a
text, which actualises something virtual, and therefore always available and
repeatable. The player-protagonist can
thus be hit and die (the words “you are dead” even appear on the screen), but
they can constantly start playing again, relying on the integrity of the
image-body with which they have “coupled”.
These bodies without organs are, however, even more distant from those
described by Deleuze and Guattari (1980).
More than images referring to bodies without organs, they are images
referring to bodies without flesh. A
body without organs is a non-articulated body, is flesh. But a body without flesh, without cracks,
without holes and orifices – to what “logic of sensation” does it refer? These are image-bodies in contrast to the
mass body (Marsciani 1999), intended as an example of collocation in the space
and time of signs, language and discourse, “which traces and establishes, one
by one, the constitutive difference between the self and other, here and
elsewhere, and the here and now as presence, with respect to the real (that
which has been) and the possible (that which is to come)” (Marsciani,
1999:301). If there is an intrinsic
corporeality to every articulation of sense, a layer which precedes, but at the
same time determines the semiosis, maybe it should be sought in the bodies of
the players, and in their syncretism with these images. (But is that where it should be sough, or is
it perhaps not a problem of corporeality?)
Indeed
we know that the body, in its semiotic capacity, is not a mere surface, a sort
of closed text, but rather a “modifier of sense, the site of the
transformations which give life and effectivity to sense” (Marsciani
1999:303). The body therefore does
signify in a dense way, and its effects can apply to the enunciated body and
the body of the enunciation, the written body and the body which writes. In the videogames and in the interaction
between user and female images, a body of enunciation is superimposed onto an
enunciated body, and witnesses a language of specific actions – regarding, for
example, mobility and immobility – the enduring and inchoative aspects of behaviour,
in which syncretism between enunciated body and body of enunciation are
fundamental. Unfortunately, as we wrote
at the start of this paper, such observations would need to be substantiated
using a competence that we do not possess.
From
a study instead based on an ethnographic survey, several interpretations of the
figure of Lara Croft and her sisters, and of this standardised body with its
minimal variations have arisen[10]. Such female creatures are monstrous
scientific products, daughters of an alienating progress, malleable
techno-dolls made by and for the male gaze.
Otherwise we are talking about drag queens. In most cases, such characters are, indeed, manipulated by male
players, who, in identifying with a female avatar, add to the confusion by
blurring the gender differences further.
In other words, these “bad girls” – as they have been defined by
specialist magazines – offer adolescent boys and adult men the chance to assume
a temporary female identity, even if only for the length of a game. The third possibility is that this is about
femmes fatales, dominatrix figures who rouse the masochism in male players –
attracted by the cruel and violent ways they unhesitatingly and tirelessly
eliminate their adversaries. Or perhaps
another possibility might be that these avatars can offer female players
subject positions, which are, if nothing else, considered redeeming, and no
doubt an improvement on those offered by games expressly directed at a female
public, such as Barbie-Dressup and Ms. Pacman, which continue to perpetuate
classic stereotypes. In the end, these
bad girls give women the chance to experience through an artificial (voice and)
body the abject desire which few will confess to but many actually harbour:
fantasies of violence and bloody conflicts.
6. It is nevertheless true that Lara and
her sisters do not have many female fans.
So we remain with the problem of how to deal with or try to articulate
the possible seduction, when it is not a case of sexuality exercised and
offered by these polygon-shaped bodies.
Could it be the distance itself, which exists between these “bodies” and
the real ones, and at the same time the interaction – which in any case causes
a real body, through game use, to enunciate a digital body – which represent
the margin in which a certain type of sexuality is explored?
The
heroines of manga and anime, and therefore to some extent the figures of
videogames too, demonstrate anatomically exaggerated forms which are almost
incongruous with the human body: the legs generally occupy two-thirds of the
figure’s height, and the eyes are exaggeratedly large. The human body is thus deconstructed, some of its parts dissected,
amplified and recombined to create an image which is totally artificial, but
apparently seductive. Even when we come
across heroines or virtual idols whose features bear greater apparent
similarity to “human” ones, they are still exaggeratedly perfect, smooth and
voluptuous hybrids. The bodies with
which one interacts are, however, physically deformed images in terms of
biological standards: representations without references in the ‘real’ world;
figures of people who, not only do not exist, but who could never exist. Physical deformation and artifice are,
however, nothing new to seduction; and long before Lara Croft or Kioko Date
came into existence, Baudrillard (1979) had placed artifice at the centre of
every form of seduction, citing the example of transvestites: with their
mannerisms and exaggerated figures and facial features. This is not to mention deformation of the
female body/women’s deformation of their own bodies in many cultures: from
Japanese foot-binding to the shrunken wombs of our bourgeois culture.
To
this remodelling of the body, is add its freezing in a state of perpetual youth,
transcending the time-scale of the games’ narratives. On the other hand, each game can be interrupted and started from
scratch: its time can constantly be repeated and re-written. Lara and her sisters can certainly become
obsolete, lose value, but there is no visible trace of this deterioration: the
image does not age, nor is it damaged or modified by being in the world,
probably because its value is precisely that it does not exist autonomously,
that it is not alive. Do these female
avatars, these silicon sylphs, represent the extreme synthesis of the “hybrid
non-women” to which Naomi Wolf (1991) refers in The Beauty Myth? For
centuries, the female body has been reduced to reified flesh; have we then
today gone as far as reified female image which no longer even has any flesh?
The
declared, exaggerated and self-expressed artificiality of these images would
therefore seem to constitute part of their appeal for the public[11]. Almost as if the impossibility of being
touched, but at the same time, the possibility of being controlled, gives these
bodies a passive innocence and virginity, which are apparently
irresistible. There is nothing under
their clothes… All social pressure and every effort which any human interaction
involves are absent from these figures.
At the same time, the fact of not being able to touch or penetrate these
young and adolescent bodies gives the users (particularly the numerous adult
men who play) the chance to transgress and break a taboo – which can be done
without damage or harm to anyone. The
digital image would therefore function as a “site for affection … completely
risk free … There is no risk of her character betraying the model that has been
constructed because she does not exist
as an entity outside her function… There is no mechanism for satisfaction
within these images, only the simultaneous perpetuity of sexual possibility and
impossibility … and that’s what keeps us watching” (Hamilton 1997).
The
seduction therefore arises from the fact that such images do not have material
referents, real “two dimensional fetishes”, not necessarily flat, but relegated to the screen. On this subject, the “neopagan fetishism”
(Formenti, 2000) of Mario Perniola (1994) comes to mind. Derived from the concept of the sex appeal
of the inorganic (Benjamin 1955), it states that the only real metamorphosis
which can truly interpret our times is that of “becoming a thing” – in other
words, agreeing to amalgamate and to “make love” with things. Perniola, starting from a semantic shift of
the term “fetish”, no longer linked with the Marxist concept of commodity
fetishism, goes as far as to assert that today “the fetish does not portray or
reproduce anything; it here and now surrenders to its being a thing, to its
abstract universality, which is completely exclusive of any link with a
spiritual or a determined form. It is
not the symbol, nor the sign, nor the code for something else (…) fetishism
signifies the triumph of the artificial, which effectively occurs in its opaque
and indifferent arbitrariness, in its being something sentient.” (Perniola,
1994: 68). The fetish feels without
being alive, and its existence brings us towards a devolution, which does not,
however, necessarily represent an involution:
“no returning back to the primitive (…) the horizon opened by devolution
is post-human, not pre-human” (1994: 88).
The sensuality of sentient and neutral things is not exhausted in with
orgasm: it is the state of perennial excitement which “the permanent
availability of things renders possible” (Formenti, 2000: 124).
7. We are, in any case, rather a long way
from the myth of the cyborg, proposed by Donna Haraway (1991). If such fetishes, in some way – but do
they?- reconcile the division between body and mind, mechanisms and organisms,
nature and culture, they do not, however, affirm differences (sexual, ethnic,
racial) which refuse to be annulled or repressed. If such a cyborg should ever exist, (she) is yet to come.
For
now, it appears to us that the presence of a single stylised, standardised, and
undoubtedly ‘fetishised’ body has been established, in which, however, the
object-thing does have the semblance – albeit artificial – of a female
body. But at the same time, perhaps it
is wrong to restrict ourselves to the condemnation of such figures and their
‘fetishization’, and to so hastily dismiss the question of our relationship to
object-things, which may be considered as true “actants” which, together with
humans, take part in the construction of the social fabric of life. A possible direction for research could
therefore be found in the concept, in turn hybrid, of “dispositif” – which can
allow an interdependent re-thinking of the subject-object relationship, “non
plus sur le mode de l’instrumentation ou de l’aliénation, mais sur le mode de
la fréquentation, du contact ou même de l’experience affectivo-corporelle,
voire du jeu.” (Peeters e Charlier, 1999: 17).
But
how can you then incorporate the differences in genre and sex in these
relationships? In the body-objects
which we have examined, such relationships seem to put forward again values
which belong to a society which is still, to some extent, patriarchal: involved
in various thematic roles, they are warrior women whose identity, however –
once narrated outside the games – is inevitably linked to the shape of their
bodies. And so it is no coincidence
that a subculture of subversive game hacking already exists, which defines
strategies to reconfigure the formats of computer games – inventing games
patches which “predate” Tombraider,
Resident Evil and Forsaken –
exchanging the characters with avatars which rewrite their bodies and identity.
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[1] This is the exclamation made by Max
Renn at the end of David Cronenberg’s film, Videodrome
[2] For example, the joystick and
the PlayStation guide the charchter’s
actions using small, hand-held aid through which you can even receive
vibrations
[3] Cf. Hertz, 1997
[4] one of the many examples is Yahoo
Italia’s listing of hentai in the
category “Business and finance”:
Affari e economia>Aziende>Sesso>Gallerie di immagini>Fumetti e cartoni animati>Hentai
[5] Cf. the article by Anne-Marie
Schleiner, “Does Lara Croft Ware Fake Plygons”, available at the address: http://switch.sjsu.edu/web/v4n1/annmarie.html
[6] See “La Repubblica”, 6th July, 1999
[7] In Japan, however, manga has a
large female readership. The
protagonists of video games and virtual idols, however, usually attract an
almost exclusively male audience, not only in Japan, as a quick look at the
scores of specialist magazines tells us, in which both the construction of the
readership and the represented reader are clearly male.
[8] In practice, the player, through
the characther, makes a series of choices regarding the route and the objects
or weapons to take with him/her (role palying).
[9] In Italy a magazine called “Tomb
Raider” exists which is entirely dedicated to Lara Croft
[10] See Schleiner’s article
[11] Virtual idols, especially Kyoko
Date, have not been as successful as had been hoped. Hamilton (1997) suggests the reason is that Kyoko is still too
human, or at least, that it is a programme which tries to appear and act like a
real human being; an amalgamation of traits and characteristics which in any
case refer to an existing person. She
has a voice which belongs to someone, and she moves like a human being, thanks
to a technique which allows the movements of a ‘real’ body to be recorded and
then transferred into digital images.