 Whenever I play a Star Wars video game, I inevitably turn evil the moment that I climb aboard a Starship. I guess I just don't know the power of the dock side. Video games have progressed a phenomenal amount in the past few years, to the point that they're actually being taken seriously as a medium for legitimate storytelling. However, they've still got kind of a bad rap for being unsophisticated or purile, and unfortunately, it's not really hard to see why. For every complex piece of interactive fiction with characters that you care about and a plot that grabs your spleen and squeezes, there are at least 10 video games where you play a guy who runs around and shoots things. Of course, with advancements in the sophistication of hardware, video games have gotten much more complex, but some of the best-selling, most successful franchises still haven't broken a level of complexity of, say, the Bernstein Bears. One of the primary ways that video games lag behind other, more established forms of media is in their relationship with morality. Moral sophistication is one potential hallmark of a mature story in just about any medium. Characters are conflicted, shades of gray abound, actions have unforeseen consequences, all leaving the audience wondering, just what does it mean to be a good person? Intuitively, you might expect an interactive medium like video games, where the audience actually helps to build the narrative, to excel at telling stories that investigate the meaning of choice, and some of them have. The very first game with a real implementation of a moral choice system was Dungeons & Dragons, first published in 1974. No computers yet, just dice, tables, and imagination. D&D developed a two-axis system where your character selected from one of nine possible alignments, ranging from lawful to chaotic and good to evil. Choosing one of those moral alignments was just as important as whether you picked a wizard or a fighter, because failing to adhere to your chosen alignment carried harsh penalties. Like if you were playing a lawful character and decided that they should bend the rules even just once, they could be set back months of experience and lose crucial abilities. However, the D&D alignment system actually served a distinct purpose in gameplay. It forced players to make consistent moral decisions in a fictional world that would otherwise be without consequences. That threat of punishment for straying from their character's moral compass forced players to think more about their character's choices as separate from their own, and even to make choices that were morally uncomfortable. That's a pretty incredible achievement for a storytelling medium. It takes a hell of a work of art to make the audience complicit in what they feel are immoral acts. Regardless, many people felt that D&D's alignment system was overly simplistic in its dichotomies and categories, and then video games happened. And with them, the Karmameter, a mechanic that seems specifically engineered to squish complexity in storytelling. All of these games heavily feature morality systems that basically boil down to getting good points or getting evil points. Also, in order to ensure that players won't mistake their options for each, video games with Karmameters tend to have binary moral decisions at wildly unrealistic ends of the spectrum. A singular decision to either adopt an orphan or eat them isn't really a mature exploration of morality. To add insult to injury, many video games will hold additional content hostage like extra abilities, missions or cutscenes, unless you go all in as either a saint or a sadist. So video games have a lot of problems in trying to mandate moral decisions in a way that isn't ham-handed. Some of them manage it, but it's generally considered to be a pretty rare thing. However, there is something about them that gives them a very interesting and important moral aspect that has very little to do with what the developers and writers intended. The act of playing a video game carries an inherent moral conundrum that's pretty much unique among other media. When I pick up a controller, I am choosing to participate in something, not just to consume it. Games like Spec Ops The Line and The Stanley Parable make a point of highlighting this involvement, but it's really intrinsic to every video game. By engaging with it, we are making a very meaningful decision to play a part in that story. Take this video by Goldvision, a somewhat tongue-in-cheek but very poignant examination of what it means to try and live a peaceful and blameless life in GTA V's Los Santos. In a virtual world designed to reward larceny, violence and apathy, he struggles to be ethical and just. It seems a little bit silly at first, but if you think about it, he's making a more meaningful moral decision than any dialogue wheel has ever offered. What's especially cool about that agency is that just like really good books and art, it makes people think about morality. Check out this paper published recently by Matthew Grizzard at all at the State University of New York. After sitting a group of test subjects down in front of a video game where immoral behavior was part of gameplay, those people became more sensitive to morality in real life, even more so than those who were told parables of guilt and woe. The very best art aspires to engage audiences on that level, something that video games, even really crappy video games, necessitate by default. That's something to be respected and admired. Although the way that morality is designed and written into video games could seriously stand some advancement, a medium for truly meaningful moral inquiry is already there. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got some noobs to frag. Have you experienced a moment in video games that made you question your own morality? Please leave a comment and let me know what you think. Thank you very much for watching. Don't forget to blah, blah, subscribe, blah, share, and I'll see you next week.