COLUMN: 'The Aberrant Gamer': HUGE SUCCESS_
November 8, 2007 8:02 AM | Leigh Alexander
[The Aberrant Gamer is a weekly, somewhat NSFW column by Leigh Alexander, dedicated to the kinks and quirks we gamers tend to keep under our hats-- those predilections and peccadilloes less commonly discussed in conventional media.]
This column often treats archetypes and conventions – those standards in story, art and characterizations that repeat again and again in our media – because it’s often those things, whether subtle or broad-stroked, that ring, in their repetition, the knell of our social identity. “Conventional” is not a word with a positive connotation, however; overly weighted reliance on a standard theme is often the result of an absence of creativity, and a production in any media that cleaves too close to archetypes runs the risk of creating a two-dimensional experience, a story told in symbols instead of emotions, in words instead of thoughts.
One such convention that appears often enough in video games is that of the laboratory – partly because science fiction is a popular genre, and labs also make good backdrops for horror. We’ve seen a lot of experimental labs in our most classic franchises, from Metal Gear Solid to Resident Evil and even titles like Final Fantasy VII and, more recently, BioShock, to name just a few. These are often places where we can find clues to the origin of the central conflict – this is where the employees were killed, for example, this is where the antagonist was created. They can be haunting and informative, in that they generally retain an echo of something that happened prior to the protagonist’s involvement in the plot. They also retain shades of the organization that spawned it, often in its clean, orderly white lines, refined aesthetic and frighteningly advanced technology, personified by a soothing computer voice still maintaining her omniscient eye over the space, her digital impassivity oblivious to the fact that the world has changed.
But Portal taught us that even computers can get a little nuts when they’re abandoned.
The Enrichment Center would like to inform you that spoilers following the jump may result in decimation of ignorance, violent rages, and hives. The effects of prolonged exposure to spoilers are not part of this article.
Brief Detention In The Relaxation Vault
Remarkable gameplay aside, despite – or perhaps because of the fact it’s set against the backdrop of one of the most conventional settings in gaming, it’s not much of a stretch to say that Portal has singlehandedly revolutionized storytelling in games. You may disagree, but think of this: games have made us love damsels, classic heroes, furry animals, deliciously wicked villains. But when’s the last time you loved – really loved – a gray cube with hearts on it?
Portal’s lab, apparently a research facility belonging to defunct Black Mesa competitor Aperture Science, bears an appealing resemblance to a psychiatric ward as much as to an experimental test course – you start in a small room, and your directions are always presented for you in a series of charmingly simplistic iconic panels. You know little about the protagonist, Chell, but it won’t take too long to notice you’re not the one whose mental fitness is in question.
It’s the reliance on convention that makes Portal’s slowly-unfurling concept such a delight. The computer-operated experimental test course has been a standby in those games clever enough to integrate its tutorial level, or perhaps its bonus game, with the larger plot and environment. The re-appearance of the familiar aesthetic leads the player to grievously underestimate the experience about to unfold – and Portal might have been just a glorified puzzle game.
Then GLaDOS decided to change things up a bit.
Heavy Duty Super-Colliding Super Button
Little by little, we see glimpses into – impossible! – the mental instability of a computer, or the aggregation of computers that compose the intimidatingly-named Genetic Lifeform and Disk Operating System. GLaDOS’ quotes are so funny not just because the game’s writing is brilliant, but because with each incongruous statement, each little chink in the computerized veneer, we’re seeing chinks in the face of a tired convention. At first, GLaDOS’ contradiction in terms is subtle – did she just say she was lying? And what’s with the cake? It’s enough so that, at first, it doesn’t disrupt the formula much. But as time goes on, the experience of the typified test course begins to unravel, with this decidedly insane machine at the helm.
It’s refreshing, and it’s amusing and endearing. But it makes for some arresting moments, too – once you realize there is little else you can do save follow along at the mercy of an unreliable sentient machine, a touch of true fear and self-preservation instinct kicks in, especially when you realize the situations to which Chell is being exposed are actually lethal. Because the test archetype isn’t just unraveling figuratively with each off-putting oddity on GLaDOS’ part – it’s literally coming apart. A dirty handprint that seems out-of-place leads to broken test areas, where outside the pristine, closed environment, someone has apparently hidden, bleeding, with a store of canned goods, and has begun writing on the wall. The cake is a lie. Is it a joke, or is it lunacy?
Aperture Science Emergency Intelligence Incinerator
Famously, during one course, Chell is given a cube and instructed to carry it with her. This cube looks precisely like the other gray cubes that it’s been necessary to employ for leverage against the environment thus far – the only key difference is the pink hearts on each face. Broadly, cubes, crates and blocks have been a gamer’s quintessential tool since the eight-bit days, but with the Aperture Science Weighted Companion Cube, another convention is turned on its head, torn to pieces, and every piece thrown into a fire. The Companion Cube is given to Chell at that point in the game wherein the player realizes that something is most definitely not right – and while one is not yet entirely sure that it’s not all a charming little joke, the uncertainty’s off-putting. And then, there are these icons of a person embracing a block. And those pink hearts.
“Please take care of it,” GLaDOS says simply.
Of course, you bring your Companion Cube with you through the testing area, at this critical point in the story’s unfolding when you could really, really use a security item, something of your very own – you’ve been reminded, of course, that even your portal gun is neither yours nor safe. Brilliantly, GLaDOS warns you against “superstition” and “perceiving inanimate objects as alive.” More than once, she reminds you the cube can’t talk – it’s as if the game itself were really sentient, aware of your growing attachment to an object. A shift in power begins – instead of laughing along at the funny computer, you begin to wonder if you aren’t really the lunatic. But it becomes clear – you’re definitely in some danger, and you need a friend.
The point wherein you have to toss the Companion Cube into the incinerator will likely stand as one of the most unforgettable points in game storytelling. You’d like to salvage it, of course, if only on principle – and, hasn’t GLaDOS lied before? Maybe, if you’re just smart enough, you can find a way to remove it from the stage. All the while she mocks you – you cannot spare the cube and leave it “alone and companionless"; but it’s incapable of “feeling much pain.”
It’s a cube – and you laugh, because you’ve become the archetype of the mental captive, who has begun personifying and loving inanimate objects. The player’s own behavior and responses to the challenges presented helps vitalize the game environment more than any cutscene or backstory could.
The moment wherein Chell is riding a platform straight into a fire is, oddly, resemblant of the moment in BioShock when the player confronts Andrew Ryan – a protagonist you know nothing about is confronted with a crucial turning point in their self-concept, a person who has been a tool up to this moment has the chance to influence their destiny. But wherein BioShock drew strength from the player’s total lack of choice, Portal is illuminated by the sudden ability to make a choice – to use the Portal gun and flee the test course. And just about all of us probably experienced at least a brief moment, on that platform, where we would have ridden straight into that fire because we as gamers have not been trained to feel we have choices, and the sudden advent of realization that you can escape is one of the most exciting, empowering things I’ve ever felt in a game. in one swift coup you feel sure of yourself, and relinquish all doubt that you are in danger from GLaDOS, and you go from being a computer’s favorite toy to being human.
And, by the way, I tried harder to save that little cube than I’ve ever been motivated to save any princess, child or kingdom in gaming history.
This Isn't Brave, It's Murder
It’s funny, and it’s challenging, and it’s sad and frustrating all in the same moment – just like the aggregate of personality “cores” that comprise GLaDOS when you confront her in the game’s end. Now you see how the poor thing might’ve come unglued – in neglect and disrepair, the different facets of her personality are becoming detached. Curiosity, rage, a recipe for cake, and you feel sorry for her, sorry for yourself, and sorry for your poor lost Companion Cube. But to defeat GLaDOS, the player, ironically, must employ the range of skills learned in the test course thus far – right down to the act of destroying something you feel sad for because you need to survive (by throwing it into an incinerator, no less). Sympathy for the quirky, crazy computer is overridden by that survival instinct – the one you garnered in that moment when you realized you had the ability to save Chell from the fire and escape.
The entire experience makes for an interesting look at what actually creates gamer psychology. Motivation, fear, love, true conflict, and emotional response are all things I think it’s fair to say most developers want to incorporate into their titles these days. We’ve seen a goodly number of “moral quandary” games lately, and heard a lot of talk about creating social fabric for games, developing a deeper experience. But by showcasing the masterful employment of all those elements against such a typified, simple, done-to-death game convention – the lab testing environment – the folks at Valve almost seem to be showing off. “This was a triumph,” GLaDOS sings gently in the now-iconic ending theme, “Still Alive.” Indeed.
And there really was a cake.
[Leigh Alexander is the editor of Worlds in Motion and writes for Destructoid, Paste, Gamasutra and her blog, Sexy Videogameland. She can be reached at leigh_alexander1 AT yahoo DOT com.]
Categories: Column: The Aberrant Gamer
28 Comments
I still don't get the fuss about the companion cube. I just chucked it straight into the furnace and moved on.
Elliot | November 8, 2007 9:26 AM
This article is a parody of deconstructionism. Plus an attempt to channel GLaDOS' lies. It works much better when you read it as though every statement is deliberately false.
I mean, "..you begin to wonder if you aren’t really the lunatic"? No one still thought she was serious after that, right?
DJH | November 8, 2007 9:52 AM
This may sound pretentious, but I wish more reviews were written in this mock-academic style. It suits my intellectual and gaming needs.
Vanderhoef | November 8, 2007 10:28 AM
The review may be a bit melodramatic but it seems completely honest to me.
Every time I replay this game (and I have, about once a day now), and find myself at the fire pit, I remember my thoughts. "Is this it? Did I really solve all that so I could slowly slide into this fire and die? The walls... left and right are portal-able, but ahead is metal... no! there's another wall! I can survive!"
I have to admit, though. I only thought the companion cube was funny. "Please take care of it." Then I have to use it as a stair, weight, and shield. If anything it took care of me, but I never grew any attachment to it, even though I did find that hidden room with the pictures. When it was time, I knew. The room even had a note about the death of the Companion Cube. I was never allowed to keep cubes before, anyway, and its destruction was just the training I needed for what was to come.
Now I want to play it again...
Camann | November 8, 2007 10:54 AM
fantastic review. even if i don't agree with every single particular thing, i agree with enough of it.
i'm for this kind of discourse. "video games" could and will be so much more. it's the last artistic medium that is still a wild west, where everything hasn't already been done to death. there are still possibilites, and they are truly staggering.
thanks for existing and writing this.
simon magus | November 8, 2007 11:09 AM
The fact that you respawn after dying in the fire is a huge hint that it's not really the end of the game, and anyone who thought so is clearly dumb. It would have been clever to have a fake ending if you died in the fire.
I had no particular attachment to the companion cube, except for the excellent monologue from GLaDOS, where you're wondering if the machine is really crazy, and you reach the hidden room, and it turns out someone actually thought all the things GLaDOS was telling you not to think. I should have been more hesitant to incinerate my companion cube, since there are apparently a few more lines that I didn't get to hear. But I do intend to buy the plush Companion Cube, because it makes as much sense as my "Nothing is any good if other people like it" shirt.
Dan | November 8, 2007 11:17 AM
Um, what?
I read a deeply insightful and keen-eyed review of an incredibly well-designed game. Gimme more reviews like this, and less "94/100 - AWESOME" reviews.
Rico | November 8, 2007 11:24 AM
It's funny - I never felt any attachment to the cube; in fact I think I consciously rejected it as a true companion because I felt GlaDOS was patronizing me. But that's just as much an emotional reaction to the game as actually liking the cube.
Quinn | November 8, 2007 11:25 AM
I have to agree that the choice point is poorly thought out. The choice there is to continue playing the game or not, which is an option you have in any game, particularly after you die.
elpuga | November 8, 2007 11:30 AM
Guess I should clarify a little on the "choice" point -- obviously it isn't a choice for the player, but in the context of the game's plot, such as it is -- you actually have the ability to leave the test course all of a sudden, even though the test course, up until then, had been essentially the whole game. The protagonist had been on a collision course for assembly-line destiny up until that point, and suddenly anything goes.
I totally agree it would have been cool to have a funny "bad" ending if you just go into the fire.
Leigh | November 8, 2007 11:37 AM
I don't think there's a choice point per se, but there is an epiphany in each game.
In Portal, it's the fire point when you realize that you can escape and that this is more than just a series of 19 levels.
In Bioshock, it's the point when you're in a store room with your history in it and you realize that you're just a tool for Frank Fontaine.
But I think both epiphany moments are about free will.
gcacho | November 8, 2007 12:01 PM
This reminds me a lot of some of the papers I've written as an English Literature major. Unfortunately, the ones I'm reminded of are those where I'm becoming less and less convinced of it myself as I go on, but I've committed too much time to my argument to change it now.
Ian Easton | November 8, 2007 1:07 PM
I had the exact same reaction to the fire pit as Leigh. Sorry.
Actually, slightly different. I thought it was a ruse. I thought I'd keep on going, I was wondering if the fire would turn off right before I hit it. To me, it was a game of chicken, which I noted that I COULD end it so I decided to.
My reasoning behind it was that it was a final test. I saw the cake icon. I was sure that this was the end of the game. I just passed a VERY tough action puzzle (the one where you need to portal AROUND the wall on the conveyer, and you see the cake icon just after getting past it.). That was it.
At the last second, I noticed the grey wall on the other side, and instinct kicked in and I did it the hard way..I actually had to put the portal over the fire it was that close.
I thought I broke the game at first. That I wasn't meant to be there.
Maybe that was the point.
Karmakin | November 8, 2007 2:20 PM
Agreed.
I too "could" have developed an attachment to the cube, but I kept reminding myself it's only a game... So when it came time to incinerate I said "A cube, my friend? Nah." and moved on.
The fire was actually kind of scary, and a real eye-opener. I actually have a choice? You have had virtually no choice up to that point. You destroy what you're told to destroy, jump when you're told to jump. I died from indecision the first time. Also while playing I felt it was important to remember that in the context of the test subject themselves (who I now find out is called Chell) they had probably only _ever_ obeyed orders.
The game is a miracle in that everybody who plays it is, to varying extents, drawn into the world. The same can be said for Half-Life 2. I guess Valve understands that this is what making great games is all about.
Funnily enough I tried to rave about it to some "non-gamers" and they just said... "Ahh a puzzle game" and left it at that.
Adam Salter | November 8, 2007 3:46 PM
Good stuff Leigh. That fire freaked the heck out of me. I think I made it part way before I thought, "OK, this doesn't seem right." the rest of my emotions were lost in the panic that ensued from then out. I'm just glad I figured it out on the first try. I am not the best FPS'er, but I made the leap and was quite exhilarated at my discovery.
Yeah, grats to the Valve guys for jumping on this game (wasn't it a group of university students that did this HL2 mod originally?)
Andy | November 8, 2007 4:02 PM
"wasn't it a group of university students that did this HL2 mod originally?"
They were students from a gaming class, but it was their senior project, not a mod. Valve have a habit of buying up entire teams based on their projects - the Team Fortress team was acquired the same way.
I felt the stirrings of an attachment to the companion cube, I must admit. I've had a theory for a while that players tend to like characters that help them and dislike characters that cause them grief, with some modifiers depending on how they're written. (So a helpful character with bad voice acting is probably not going to be the fan favourite.)
The companion cube is certainly helpful, and GLaDOS provides it with a personality.
Regarding the firepit, did anyone else notice that the final turn is quite sharp? It seems deliberately done to spring on you the surprise that you're just about to die - my reaction there was pretty much 'bull!' and saw it as one of GLaDOS's traps that had gone too far.
Merus | November 8, 2007 5:38 PM
Let me start out by saying that Portal is currently my favorite game (eva!), and I wasn't fond of Bioshock.
I never grew attached to the Weighted Companion Cube. I thought it was all one big joke, really, and I threw it into the fire with no feelings whatsoever. Given GLaDOS' comments later on ("I even invited your best friend the companion cube. Of course, HE couldn't come because you murdered HIM") as well as the pictures with the Weighted Companion Cube taped on as a head, I'm pretty sure the writers thought of it as a joke too. I'm still planning on buying the plushie since the Weighted Companion Cube has become a nerd symbol. Actually, I might buy two, and throw one into a campfire. =)
As for the "fire" part, everyone keeps talking about, my immediate reaction was, "OK, where can I place my portals to escape?" No ephiany or anything. I just saw an obstacle and worked to overcome it. Classic video gaming 101. A bit boring and to the point, but I am a physics major after all.
Now, if you want to play a video game that totally turns conventions on their heads, go play Mario 2, known as The Lost Levels to us Americans. It's on the Wii's VC. It's completely like Mario 1 (even down to "The princess is in another castle!") but the game totally changes the way I've looked at game design in general. From the famous poison mushrooms, even down to the minute details of timing, it's a masterpiece of game design. You're constantly being tested, and just when you have something "down", the game completely throws a curveball at you. It's a shame that, 20 years later, game designers still haven't learned the lessons that it teaches about testing the player instead of just entertaining him.
TheNino85 | November 8, 2007 5:53 PM
While Portal was excellent, I think the lack of any risk reduced the impact the game could have had. It would have been nice if the companion cube would randomly move just a little on its own, causing you to drop it or whatever, and so you're not entirely sure you just weren't clumsy.
The end of the game was a little too clearly earmarked as the end of the game. I didn't feel anything at all relating to survival, just 'got this far so might as well finish it.' The fact that it was essentially a repeated task killing those units also weakened it in my opinion. There should have at least been a last minute surprise that changed how you had to approach the situation.
The voice of GlaDOS is really the star of the show, and elevates what would otherwise be a clever but not particularly memorable puzzle game.
Aaron | November 9, 2007 2:18 AM
Great column! You really nailed the emotional adventure this game sends you on. Especially in how you describe the realizations that this isn't just tutorial section... this IS the world.
I'm really suprised that there are so many people that feel nothing for the Companion Cube. Just as the player begins to shift from believing that GLaDOS is working in their best interest along comes an ally.
As soon as I saw it I nicknamed it Q.B. Heart and proclaimed we would be friends for life. Then I heard GLaDOS's warning and decided she was crazy, but, me and Q.B. could make it, if we stuck together. Then there was the incenerator...it was him or me... and as I watched my friend get farther and farther away, I hoped I could find a portal spot my way down to that fiery abyss.
Cody | November 9, 2007 7:48 AM
I didn't feel anything for that companion cube either. It was probably due to the icon saying "pick up and love", which made me go "no way!" like a reflex. I was a bit worried with the head on fire at the incinerator, but tossed it down - and nothing happend, so I went on with no regret. I did understand that a lot of people was about to love the thing, though.
About the fire... I don't remember how I reacted to the fire. I already knew the cake was a lie (Thanks, spoiling people!), but I was surprised at finding fires, and the whole "The Portal weapon will be alright up to 5000 degrees"-attitude. What I remember is when I got out of the fire, and GLaDOS going instantly going from surprised to lying and the contrast in enviourment from clean lab to dirty industrial plant. And the idea that "I'm on the run, and going the linear way to freedom!".
The whole game was a blast, and the post-fire part got very challanging with the sudden lack of instructions and new instruments and moves to use.
Jocho | November 9, 2007 8:41 AM
Portal was a blast to play! I was looking forward to playing it because I thought the teleportation idea was very interesting. The thing that made it great was being surprised by the story, I didn't expect that. I loved the GLaDOS character and the song at the end is probably one of my all time favorite video game moments.
DaveKan | November 10, 2007 8:43 PM
Portal's gotta be one of my favourite games ever now. In keeping with a few of the other posters here, I wasn't that attached to the Companion Cube - not until GLaDOS started reproaching me for murdering him. Then I felt a huge wave of remorse and attachment to an inanimate grey cube with hearts on it. That's when I realised just how good this game was.
Oh, and I thought the fire was utterly obvious. A clearly unhinged computer telling you that "there is absolutely no danger of a dangerous equipment malfunction"? I heard that, laughed my arse off and straight away, started looking for ways out.
cypherspace | November 11, 2007 1:37 PM
I've played Portal about six times through now and I'm just starting to get tired of it. It's such a brilliant game and I just can't get enough.
This is one of the best reviews of it I've seen. You've got a great writing style and you're very thorough.
MoneyMoose | November 11, 2007 2:08 PM
I had exactly the same experience as this. I fell in love with the companion cube, and felt really guilty when I got the fratricide achievement.
Towards the end of the game I started to wonder if the person who had been writing on the walls hadn't been Chell. There were those times when the computer refers to her as an android.
Lovely game, lovely article.
nectarien | November 15, 2007 7:07 PM
Portal has been my favorite video game i have played in a while (though i have not played bioshock so I can not compare those)
Moneymoose: the section in which GLaDOS refers to Chell as an android is when she is "accidentally" put in an android training zone and the default info is given to the supposed android.
Darthmalak | December 7, 2007 11:35 PM
Towards the end of the game I started to wonder if the person who had been writing on the walls hadn't been Chell. There were those times when the computer refers to her as an android.
There's also the bit during the final battle where GLaDOS mentions that she has Chell's brain scans "in case something terrible should happen".
L33tminion | January 20, 2008 8:41 AM
I wanted to grow attached to my Companion Cube, yet, it was stripped from me way too early. If I could be with it for, say, two or more levels, I could have grown much "love".
And there was NOT a cake. The last bit of image was brought to you not through Chell's eyes, but rather through GLaDOS' vision, which, as we all know, is a liar. If the cake's bits and pieces blown away at the end of the game falls in lying Chell's vision, I would've more than believed there was indeed a cake (which is made from lab test subject's flesh--remember when GLaDOS says "you'll be baked and be eaten"?).
Peter | February 11, 2008 7:53 AM
Never felt a thing for the cube. I think i'd already gotten too used to leaving cubes behind.
The fire was a sudden scare but not entirely unexpected. I mean I didn't think I was going to a party at the end.
The ending segments ended up being a little disappointing. The lack of new enemies or new kinds of confrontation I think detracted from an otherwise excellent finale
Cronotose | April 7, 2008 1:56 AM