Monday, February 02, 2009
Spoiler Alert (I Must Be)
Due to the peculiarities of our little planet, Sunday night in New York equals Monday morning in Japan. As millions of Americans sat down with their delicious drinks and their salty snacks to watch the Super Bowl, I was riding a bus to Hana Town so I could get to work. Once I arrived I was forced to restrain myself from using any kind of Internet application, else I learn the results of the game before I could get home and see the rebroadcast myself. While I sat in the office, purposely isolating myself from information I wanted to know, I thought about the nature of "spoilers."
Mako and I have just recently gotten into two American serial dramas on DVD, Prison Break and Battlestar Galactica. Admittedly, I'm more into the latter than the former (with Mako feeling the exact opposite) but we are actively renting both shows right now. While the subject matter couldn't be more dissimilar, both programs focus on a long-term story over individual, self-contained episodes and both shows are coming to an end this year. In the case of Prison Break, I know for a fact that they spend every season after the first on the run so they must manage to get out of prison sooner or later, yet I am on board for every sudden twist and failed maneuver along the way. It doesn't matter that they're going to escape, I still don't know how, when or who makes it at this point and I am really enjoying the ride.
I am one of those people who takes spoilers pretty seriously. Whether it's the end of a book, a major story arc on TV or even an impressive stunt in a film, I don't want to hear about it second-hand. I want to experience that moment, whatever it may be, on my own terms when I watch/read/play it myself. My outlook is this: people make these stories with an audience in mind. Every surprise, every joke, every tragic death has meaning only because of the narrative that surrounds it. Every element of the story is tied to some other element. The whole is more than the sum of its parts: take one part out of context and feature it in commercials or plaster it across the internet, and the whole is diminished.
Using this admittedly broad definition, it would seem that almost every detail about a book, TV show, movie or video game qualifies as a spoiler. Does this mean that every story I encounter is "spoiled" because I know what actors appear in it or how many seasons the show runs for? Not necessarily. A spoiler is not a black and white concept to me; there are many subtle levels. Given that there is so much media out there vying for my attention, I must take in a certain amount of sensitive information in order to develop an interest in any given piece of entertainment. Something must be "spoiled" in order to establish a story as one I care about.
Take Cloverfield as an example. Would I have rented that film based on nothing but the title? Not a chance, it sounds like a Jane Austin novel. It was only after I found out it was a monster movie (with a gimmick) that I decided I wanted to see it. At the same time, I can only imagine the incredible evening I would have had watching it without knowing a giant creature was going to attack Manhattan by the end of the film. There was also a substantial amount of buzz surrounding one shocking moment, leaving me to sit and wait for it to happen rather than actually be shocked when...no, I won't say it.
So where do I draw the line? What's the difference between a "enjoy the ride" spoiler versus a "sit and wait" spoiler? I wish I could tell you but there simply isn't a way to tell ahead of time what is or is not a cataclysmic bombshell. That's why I'm so cautious about investigating any story and why, once I know I'm interested, I actively avoid learning anything more. When I go to the movies, I close my eyes during nearly every trailer. When I watch Battlestar Galactica, I turn away from the opening credits because they are, bizarrely enough, packed with dramatic moments from the episode I am about to watch. And when a video game podcast starts discussing the highlights of any narrative-driven game I'm hoping to play, I fast-forward until I'm convinced they've moved onto another topic.
Video games are a curious case because they should, in theory, be spoiler-proof by virtue of their interactivity. Enjoying a video game requires you to pick up the controller and actually play through it, so no amount of plot points revealed in advance should rob you of that entertainment. I certainly can't think of any sensitive information I could have heard about Portal, a phenomenal game that I first played months after it became a "huge success," which would have detracted from the experience in any way. There are also scores of video games that have no narrative to speak of, making the only potential "spoilers" being the solutions to the levels. Yet entire websites devoted to video game strategies and solutions exist to answer players' questions. I know I wouldn't have gotten all those PixelJunk Monsters trophies without the occasional tip from GameFAQs.
Contrary to all these points, I am perhaps more paranoid about video game spoilers than of any other media. Much of this revolves around the issue of time. It takes a lot longer to finish a video game than it does a book or a movie, so it's harder to think of myself as "caught up" with what's popular. I may have a chance to see all of the Best Picture nominees by the time the Oscars are handed out, but it's unlikely I will ever finish more than one (if that) of the Game of the Year candidates for 2008. Serial television dramas are similarly hard to catch up with and can run for years, but they also unfold at a uniform pace for everyone. Nobody knows how Lost or Heroes will end yet because the public knowledge of the story is limited to those episodes that have already aired. Once a game like Resident Evil 5 hits the shelves, I expect people to be chattering about major plot points within days, if not hours.
That "chatter" is the other major issue with video games compared to other media: the integral role that the internet plays in gaming culture. The only way to be informed on what new releases look promising or potential additions/updates are available for the games you own is to be online. I don't need to visit any message boards or read any blogs to know when House airs, so the odds that I may come across spoilers is pretty slim. With games, I exist in a constant flinching state when I read through sites like Kotaku, hoping that the page I'm reading does not casually reveal why that plane crashes at the start of BioShock. Yes, it did and no, there was no warning. It wasn't even an article about the game!
Of course, when it comes to sports, the line is pretty easy to draw: knowing the final score before watching the game robs me of all interest. If I had read last year about the Giants' incredible upset of the Patriots while I was at work, I would have been very happy as a Giants fan but I doubt I would have actually turned on the game when I got home. So in the interest of enjoying this year's Super Bowl, I'm just going to shut out the world for a few more hours. I hope it's worth it.
Mako and I have just recently gotten into two American serial dramas on DVD, Prison Break and Battlestar Galactica. Admittedly, I'm more into the latter than the former (with Mako feeling the exact opposite) but we are actively renting both shows right now. While the subject matter couldn't be more dissimilar, both programs focus on a long-term story over individual, self-contained episodes and both shows are coming to an end this year. In the case of Prison Break, I know for a fact that they spend every season after the first on the run so they must manage to get out of prison sooner or later, yet I am on board for every sudden twist and failed maneuver along the way. It doesn't matter that they're going to escape, I still don't know how, when or who makes it at this point and I am really enjoying the ride.
I am one of those people who takes spoilers pretty seriously. Whether it's the end of a book, a major story arc on TV or even an impressive stunt in a film, I don't want to hear about it second-hand. I want to experience that moment, whatever it may be, on my own terms when I watch/read/play it myself. My outlook is this: people make these stories with an audience in mind. Every surprise, every joke, every tragic death has meaning only because of the narrative that surrounds it. Every element of the story is tied to some other element. The whole is more than the sum of its parts: take one part out of context and feature it in commercials or plaster it across the internet, and the whole is diminished.
Using this admittedly broad definition, it would seem that almost every detail about a book, TV show, movie or video game qualifies as a spoiler. Does this mean that every story I encounter is "spoiled" because I know what actors appear in it or how many seasons the show runs for? Not necessarily. A spoiler is not a black and white concept to me; there are many subtle levels. Given that there is so much media out there vying for my attention, I must take in a certain amount of sensitive information in order to develop an interest in any given piece of entertainment. Something must be "spoiled" in order to establish a story as one I care about.
Take Cloverfield as an example. Would I have rented that film based on nothing but the title? Not a chance, it sounds like a Jane Austin novel. It was only after I found out it was a monster movie (with a gimmick) that I decided I wanted to see it. At the same time, I can only imagine the incredible evening I would have had watching it without knowing a giant creature was going to attack Manhattan by the end of the film. There was also a substantial amount of buzz surrounding one shocking moment, leaving me to sit and wait for it to happen rather than actually be shocked when...no, I won't say it.
So where do I draw the line? What's the difference between a "enjoy the ride" spoiler versus a "sit and wait" spoiler? I wish I could tell you but there simply isn't a way to tell ahead of time what is or is not a cataclysmic bombshell. That's why I'm so cautious about investigating any story and why, once I know I'm interested, I actively avoid learning anything more. When I go to the movies, I close my eyes during nearly every trailer. When I watch Battlestar Galactica, I turn away from the opening credits because they are, bizarrely enough, packed with dramatic moments from the episode I am about to watch. And when a video game podcast starts discussing the highlights of any narrative-driven game I'm hoping to play, I fast-forward until I'm convinced they've moved onto another topic.
Video games are a curious case because they should, in theory, be spoiler-proof by virtue of their interactivity. Enjoying a video game requires you to pick up the controller and actually play through it, so no amount of plot points revealed in advance should rob you of that entertainment. I certainly can't think of any sensitive information I could have heard about Portal, a phenomenal game that I first played months after it became a "huge success," which would have detracted from the experience in any way. There are also scores of video games that have no narrative to speak of, making the only potential "spoilers" being the solutions to the levels. Yet entire websites devoted to video game strategies and solutions exist to answer players' questions. I know I wouldn't have gotten all those PixelJunk Monsters trophies without the occasional tip from GameFAQs.
Contrary to all these points, I am perhaps more paranoid about video game spoilers than of any other media. Much of this revolves around the issue of time. It takes a lot longer to finish a video game than it does a book or a movie, so it's harder to think of myself as "caught up" with what's popular. I may have a chance to see all of the Best Picture nominees by the time the Oscars are handed out, but it's unlikely I will ever finish more than one (if that) of the Game of the Year candidates for 2008. Serial television dramas are similarly hard to catch up with and can run for years, but they also unfold at a uniform pace for everyone. Nobody knows how Lost or Heroes will end yet because the public knowledge of the story is limited to those episodes that have already aired. Once a game like Resident Evil 5 hits the shelves, I expect people to be chattering about major plot points within days, if not hours.
That "chatter" is the other major issue with video games compared to other media: the integral role that the internet plays in gaming culture. The only way to be informed on what new releases look promising or potential additions/updates are available for the games you own is to be online. I don't need to visit any message boards or read any blogs to know when House airs, so the odds that I may come across spoilers is pretty slim. With games, I exist in a constant flinching state when I read through sites like Kotaku, hoping that the page I'm reading does not casually reveal why that plane crashes at the start of BioShock. Yes, it did and no, there was no warning. It wasn't even an article about the game!
Of course, when it comes to sports, the line is pretty easy to draw: knowing the final score before watching the game robs me of all interest. If I had read last year about the Giants' incredible upset of the Patriots while I was at work, I would have been very happy as a Giants fan but I doubt I would have actually turned on the game when I got home. So in the interest of enjoying this year's Super Bowl, I'm just going to shut out the world for a few more hours. I hope it's worth it.
Labels: BioShock, BSG, Cloverfield, football, movies, Portal, Prison Break, sports, television, video games
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