According to a recent Pew Study, 1 in 4 women have experienced online stalking or sexual harassment. Labeled as “social justice warriors,” prominent journalists and bloggers have been harassed and threatened for writing about economic inequality, education, and racism in popular culture. The culture of fear that is being created impacts not just professionals, but more perniciously, young women and men who are developing their habits and protocols for online life. From advanced professionals to adolescents, feminists and women are at risk.
Much of this violence has been perpetrated online, but threats like these can move into offline, “real” life. In October, Sarkeesian canceled a talk at Utah State University after receiving a massacre threat inspired by the 1989 Marc Lepine murder of fourteen women. Many people, including women of color and trans people, have experienced threats, harassment, and the distribution of their location and contact information by people…
Note: if you have not played this game and plan to – do NOT read this post. There are many spoilers.
Rape culture is a way to think of the systemic means by which women are rendered powerless and subjected in particular contexts. Anne Kingston, senior writer at Maclean’s magazine (a Canadian weekly news periodical) accurately described rape culture as an ecosystem that enables rape to be normalized (e.g. women “deserve” to be raped if they act in certain ways). An ecosystem is such that the those who live in it are largely unaware of its processes, much like most of us take little notice of the bacteria that allow us to live, many are unaware of the cultural processes that shape and channel the way they think, fantasize, behave, and interact. Literary genres participate in creating a national ecosystem (or symbolic order) by narrativizing the paradigmatic myths that tell us who we are as national, racial, cultural, and political subjects. Genres map out how we should deal with certain social and rhetorical situations, so it should not be surprising that noir fiction and film has participated in the seamless functioning of rape culture by perpetuating ideologies of American gender and sexuality.
Like Foucault said (okay, he didn’t SAY the following, but he strongly implied it!), we need to trace the origins of the discourses in order to denaturalize them. As Herbert Marcuse explains, in a repressive and oppressive social order, technological and mass forms/artifacts serve the practical and ideological needs of that order (John Sanbonmatsu “Video Games and Machine Dreams of Domination“) In video game studies, there has consistently been a strong push to find new and improved ways to study video games, and this trajectory tends to foreclose on linking game narratives to the historical processes and contexts that engendered them. This is not to say that we shouldn’t follow what Alexander Galloway and Ian Bogost tells us in regard to privileging the computational processes from which games are fueled, but that we need to expose the ideologies, which are distinctly linked to game procedures. With all due respect to Surface Reading (a new and improved formalism), there are immersive technologies that require theoretical practice to expose the “wizard” behind the curtain, so to speak. This is not about hunting for meaning in a print text but gazing a critical eye at an instrumentalist form of reading that can be blinding.
The Red Lipstick Murders case starts in classic noir style with “unusual camera angles” and “chiaroscuro,” creating a decentred and unstable composition (Andrew Spicer Film Noir313). We expect to see graphic violence in film noir, and this opening delivers with a woman being dragged from a car and then bludgeoned to death with a tire iron. We only see the killer’s feet and then the shadowy outline of him beating a woman to death: as spectators, we are certainly decentred (perhaps by our voyeuristic role and the expectation that we will be able to see the victim – a disturbing thought).
This is a cut scene so we are not positioned as player but as viewer, a position for which we have been trained via the culture industry. That is, we know how to watch a film and so we put these “reading” skills to use as we play. I realize there is some disagreement as to whether players actually watch cut scenes or not, but since complex video games like L.A. Noire use cut scenes as rewards for finding certain objects (pick up a newspaper, wear certain clothing, etc..), I think the point is that we are meant to do so. They certainly cost enough money to produce (meaning if they were not popular, why include them?), so I think the argument is moot and unhelpful. We need to see this cut scene to know what comes next, which is in the debriefing room at the station where Captain Donnelly fills us in on the case.
The modality of the scene changes from classic noir B&W to colour; from odd camera angles to a straight shot of the room, and we are positioned in with the other detectives as we transition from gazing as audience member to focalizing the narrative through Phelps. As Phelps, we enter and, to some extent, are controlled by a primarily male gaze. We have the power to investigate and demand answers to questions. We have access to knowledge and control. My biological features as a real person are not at stake; my ability to navigate this world is dependent on Phelps, who we follow and appear to make choices as this character, but these choices are largely decided by complex algorithms. No matter what choice I make as Phelps, he will not live up to his social designation as hard-boiled detective. He is a failed version of masculinity (more in this post). Phelps does not define ME but does influence my perception (if I allow him to). Through Phelp’s, I learn how a male-centred world operates and the price to be paid if one does not correctly perform masculinity. Video games are often called “masculinist,” but this is an overly simplified way to think about video games. Many (not all) games are really forms of social control for all genders and sexualities and most link to a decidedly American form of rugged masculinity and domesticity influenced via frontier narratives.
Through Phelp’s gaze we are introduced to a lengthy set of cases that reveal a serious threat to the American home and, therefore, nation. On this urban frontier, the threats are internal and not the external threats the frontiersman of the 18th and 19th century faced. However, one of the hallmarks of the classic frontiersman is to recognize evil in all its disguises. Hawkeye knows the difference between “good” and “bad” Indians and, similarly, our urban frontiersman/detective, Phelps, must also be able to gauge, through interrogation, who is “good” and who is “bad.” One of the twists of the noir genre is to diagnose an infection, but to be unable to excise that infection. The hard-boiled detective makes the urban frontier relatively safe, but the uncivilized element is never fully banished.
The infection in this particular section of the game exhumes a nineteenth and early twentieth century debate over temperance and sobriety that informed “the construction of whiteness and masculinity as definitional of both the public sphere in which they took place and the embodied subjects who embodied that space” (Hendler,Sentimental Men 128). This temperance discourse is remapped onto a post-collapse United States to make sense of why the collapse happened and how the U.S. can maintain its exceptionalism. The blame is cast on the the 1% (as inevitable, all-powerful, exceptional, and unbeatable – inviting political apathy as all Rockstar games do), but also on the intemperance of the nation, metonymically represented by murdered, fallen American women.
It is crucial to understand that the Red Lipstick Murders are loosely based on the Lipstick Murders in Chicago and the gruesome Black Dahlia murder in Los Angeles. In both cases, women and one small girl, were brutally attacked, mutilated, and murdered (not necessarily in that order). This link between actual murders and the fictitious world of the game is not only a convention of genres with frontier heritage but also of American literature. The link between fact and fiction (or “fact-tion”) is often blurred in American literature. Of course, these blurred lines (pardon the wordplay here) are part and parcel of nation building in the U.S. Therefore, it is not surprising that the game writers/developers drew from these famous cases, with the Black Dahlia case figuring most predominantly.
Of particular interest is the mention of the Black Dahlia by Phelp’s crusty new partner, Rusty Galloway in the cut scene where they travel to the crime scene. The killer is dubbed the “werewolf” in the game, likely due to the brutality of the killings. Galloway surmises that this case has nothing to do with the Dahlia murders, explaining that “90% of murders are domestic.” Phelps asks why so many women are being murdered at this particular point in time, to which Galloway responds, “‘Cause of the war. You should know that. Guy gets to kill people every day in combat, comes home, and he’s expected to take lip from his wife? What do you think is going to happen?” Phelps is skeptical. What Galloway’s comments reveal is an incredibly important part of the domestic and rape culture ecosystem: men can’t help it. If a woman “gives lip” to a traumatized male, then she can expect to be murdered. Chilling.
Of course, linking these cases to the Dahlia murder is more than simply sensationalizing: Elizabeth Short, nicknamed the Black Dahlia by the press, was characterized as a loose woman, who drank and caroused (James Ellroy, My Dark Places). The name “Black Dahlia” gave her an air of mystery and eroticism (not to mention the metaphorical connotations between the vagina and flowers). Often described as an “struggling” and “aspiring” actress, Short is implicitly linked to the perversity and intemperance that has defined the underbelly of Hollywood. The Red Lipstick Murder is only the first in the series of cases involving murdered intemperate women that Phelps investigates: in each case, the victims, like Short, are characterized as “loose women” – they either drink or spend too much money. They are promiscuous or drifters; therefore, the game makes the case that they were destined to end badly.
The Victim: Celine Henry
When we approach the crime scene, we are given a brief aerial shot of the victim (Celine Henry, but we do not learn her name until later). She is naked and mutilated. As part of the game mechanics, we have to straddle her, which is disturbing to say the least. Positioned just below the vagina, we look at the body over Phelp’s shoulder. The killer has written on the body the initials “BD,” which might mean, according to the coroner, “Black Dahlia.” We check the victims hands and discover that a ring on the right hand is missing.
We discover a lighter from a local club, The Bamba, at the crime scene, and soon we are on our way to discover the identity of the victim and unpack her narrative. Phelps has the power to speak for Henry, who could have easily been portrayed and even played in flashbacks, but that’s not part of the genre convention, and so it is not part of the game procedure. When we question the bartender, we learn that the victim is likely Celine Henry, and she frequents the club most nights. Her intemperance has been established.
As Phelps, we interrogate the club owner McColl, who paints a picture of Celine as a “lovely woman” but also as a heavy drinker who had “quite a head start” before she met up with a man at the bar. He mentions Celine’s husband, who then becomes a “POI” (Person of Interest), which pops up at the bottom of the screen. This little notation (in typewriter style font to add to the high modality of the game) about clues, locations, and possible suspects operates as a kind of computational internal narrator, directing us to think in certain ways, such as defining characters as innocent or guilty. As a member of what Louis Althusser called the Repressive State Apparatus, Phelps is invested with a state sanctioned mastery of official language and can demand answers from suspects. We learn that Celine does not have mastery of language, and she is a linguistic deviant because she “tells stories” to attract male attention.Celine is postioned as unreliable and unable to control language, the opposite of Phelps, even though she is educated and is also a “flier.” We later learn that Celine was a pioneering female pilot, all of which is overshadowed by her alcoholism and infidelity. In other words, her accomplishments in the public sphere are meaningless in the face of her domestic transgressions.
Phelps asks McColl about Celine’s missing ring, which is not her wedding ring, and is described as “on the large side, larger than life, like Celine herself.” Through pressing the correct assessment of McColl’s truthfulness (doubt is the right answer), the game procedures here position Phelps as the subject-supposed-to-know and McColl as the subordinated male subject, we learn that McColl bought Celine the ring, indicating infidelity on Celine’s part. Another nail in her coffin.
McColl tells Phelps that he tried to call Celine’s husband Jacob to pick her up, as he had done many times before. Jacob refuses and Celine leaves with her killer.
When we investigate the house, we learn that the house has been “creeped,” (already searched) according to Galloway (love that slang!). As we investigate, we find a note on the fridge left by Jacob for Celine stating that if she “sobers up” she can find him at a particular address. Here is our next destination, which is kept in a note book that we consult to choose clues, intuition, and also a location to travel to. The notebook is a symbol of official language – a virtual space that collects transgressions of gender and national performance, which we, as Phelps, then use to interrogate and arrest suspects.
After talking with a neighbour, Jennifer Horoan, we learn that Celine was very drunk by 10:00 pm, and Jacob may have given her a black eye (Galloway says in the house that if his wife drank that much, he’d give her a smack, so domestic violence is shown a common way to deal with wild wives in this historical representation of 1940’s America). Jennifer calls Jacob “long suffering” and tells Phelps that Celine drove very drunk, a cardinal sin, lowering Celine’s ethos even more.
When we find Jacob, he claims to know nothing of Celine’s death but Phelps finds a notebook and as Phelps, we rub the notebook with a pencil and find a secret note. This particular interaction, renders us (so to speak) as a demysitifiers – this little immersive scene is a meta-narrative for the detective’s function: only he can reveal hidden meaning and make structure out of chaos. As Catherine Belsey so saliently notes in “Constructing the Subject; Deconstructing the Text,” the detective makes all mysteries accountable to reason (which is not the hard-boiled detective way, so Phelps will pay for this misrecognition of his national role). That comes later, in this particular case, Phelps makes the world easily readable through the binary lens of gender performance. This particular clue makes Galloway accuse Jacob of murdering his wife, but Jacob insists he only wanted to commit her to a sanitorium for treatment of alcoholism. At this point, a fight ensues, Galloway is slugged, and we subdue Jacob. By clicking the right buttons, we violently regain control of the situation.
When we call in for a squad car to pick up Jacobs and take him to the station, we learn that Celine was not killed by blunt force trauma to the head. Her death was sexually violent and gruesome; over the phone, Carruthers, the coroner, tells us the horrific details:
Death was from hemmorage; the shock from the fractured ribs; and multiple injuries caused by stomping…He’s [the killer] some kind of sex fiend. The tissues of the anus were bruised about an 1/8th, but no trace of semen in the anus, vagina, or stomach.
Jacob is taken to the police station, and we get a call from dispatch that the license plate number matches a car belonging to one Alonzo Mendez, which means that Jacob is likely innocent. The Captain does not care; as far as he is concerned, Jacob was a browbeaten husband, which means that he was pushed to murder his wife.
In the interrogation session, Jacob denies everything, and we know he is likely innocent but the marriage pact as a microcosm of the nation will not bear Jacob being anything other than a “sob sister,” who was “pushed around by his wife.” Captain Donnelly’s authority and control are clear: he will dictate the narrative of this marriage, which is driven by national ideal of rugged masculinity and domesticity. There can be no queerness or changing of roles. Jacob’s failure as a husband must rest in his inability to control his wife’s alcoholism and promiscuity through violence and not his apparently passive attempt to send her for treatment. Of course, he should support her and help her to be sober, but this is a violation of genre protocol. He is not the civilizer but the protector or civilization, even if that protection is violent. “Civilizers” are American women who control the homefront.
The interrogation session is also part of the game procedure and its rhetoric is designed to support these ideologies of sex and gender. When Phelps (us) accuses Jacobs of lying, we do it in the most vociferous and insulting way imaginable, we call Celine a “drunken whore” who treated Jacob “like shit.” We call Jacob a “weak sister” for stomping on Celine and mutilating her, but we know that this is not the case. Paradoxically, the Captain’s fiction that Phelps perpetuates is exactly what makes Jacob more of a man for punishing Celine, whose sexual and alcoholic intemperance renders her the bad wife and mother: the worst crime an American middle class white woman can commit.
Phelps plays into the system despite knowing the truth – and if we agree with Jacob, we will fail to win more points and gain what are called “intution points.” These points are invaluable to gain access to answers and finding important clues, sometimes within a time limit. Again, a game’s procedures are set up to encourage the player to win but in the case of game narrative what do we win? We win by ideologically positioning ourselves correctly. We know the truth but we will not jeopardize our careers or our success to save another from injustice. When we consider the powerful combination of genre and video game mechanics, then this is a powerful lesson, isn’t it? Stay quiet and endure – don’t fight back. Much like we see in other Rockstar Games, such as Red Dead Redemption, don’t fight the power, endure the power, and do what you are told. Those who break those boundaries pay a terrible price.
Jacob admits to “killing her [Celine’s] dreams” by only being able to offer “security” for Celine, who wanted to pursue her goal of being a pilot. In 2011, the idea of security has multiple meanings for U.S. citizens, playing on ideas of financial security (which was and is still an impossibility for a large swath of the American population) and also national security. Jacob describes his social and class mobility from his life as a tenant farmer to his current middle class status, rendering Celine’s aviation dreams as wasteful, extravagant, and intemperate.
The person who is finally arrested is the Mexican American, Mendez whose ethnicity renders him available to frame in this racist gamescape. They find the murder weapon in plain site and surrounded by blood in a cardboard box in the middle of his bedroom. Again, Phelps knows better and questions the placement of the murder weapon, but when Mendez arrives, we follow the game code and arrest him.
You can read more in my forthcoming book Manifest Destiny 2.0: Genre Trouble in Video Games.
The following is drawn from a presentation I used to give at Trent University for years. It, in turn, is drawn from advice I received and also a SSHRC funded study by Dr. Catherine Shryer on the genre of grant proposals.
In the genre of proposal writing, the statement of interest asks you to perform exactly what the title indicates: state your interest! However, actually performing this task is much harder than it initially appears. The following template will not do the work for you, but act as a guide as you complete this difficult, yet rewarding, task.
A statement of interest is related to the cover letter in that you are presenting the skills that you will bring to the table. In essence, your statement of interest should generate interest! Please note that many grad schools supply an outline of what they want in a statement of interest (and a personal statement is different from a statement of interest). However, many do not.
Before you get down to writing your statement, you need to answer the following questions in order to build a strong outline. Your outline will act as a reference point and a guide when you write your statement of interest.
Why am I interested in going to graduate school? Is it a particular question that has dogged me throughout my course work? Am I interested in a particular field? Why does this field interest me? What kind of schools offer programs in my areas of interest?
What skills have I acquired in this area? Have I worked with someone on a research project or presented at a student conference of some kind? Have I achieved an exceptionally high grade in a particular area? What specific courses have I taken that directly relate to my field of interest? In short, you need to list your training and accomplishments in your field of interest.
Finally, and depending on the program, you might want to think about your career objectives and long term goals. How might you frame these?
The opening paragraph needs to be strong and incredibly clear. While the rest of your statement also requires clarity and coherence, the opening statement makes your first impression. Don’t start your statement with phrases like, “I have always loved X” or “I have always known that X was my destiny [or calling].” These statements do not tell your reader anything he or she doesn’t already know. You need to state clearly why you are interested in a particular field of study (or, if you are writing a statement of interest for a grad school, then you need to also state why that school is the one for you). You don’t need to start with your name or write the statement like a letter. This is a strong statement about your interests! In terms of external funding, the committee wants to see that you have specific interests and the skills that will allow you to successfully pursue those interests. You can use phrases like, “My primary interest lies in the field of X, in which I will explore Y and Z.” Then you need to expand a bit about why you are interested in X and also how you intend to explore Y and Z.
The next paragraph should expand on the interests you laid out in the first paragraph. Don’t be wordy and use tons of small prepositional phrases. You will irritate your reader and that is never a good thing to do. Committees have hundreds and hundreds of applications to review and if yours is wordy and confused, then your application will go on the “reject” pile. You may find that in explaining your research and/or interest in a particular field that you start to talk about your training. This is fine. For example, if you are interested in medieval literature, you should mention that you have taken courses in your proposed field. You should list the course title and then briefly state how this course influenced you. You might want to say “The research seminar in medieval studies sparked my interest in contemporary representations of Beowulf.” I am fascinated in the continued importance of Beowulf not only as a public text, but also as a means to understand ourselves.”
You need to wrap up your explanation of your interests and get into the heart of who you can work with on this project and any accomplishments that should be highlighted. Don’t try to list everything. Don’t forget that you append a list of scholarly achievements to your external funding application. In addition, you have space for this list on most grad school applications. However, simply listing a significant award in your field does not tell the committee what it took to win it. Such BRIEF explanations need to be in the statement of interest. You might also want to list one or two faculty members that you can work with on this project. In terms of external funding, you can’t be quite as succinct as your grad school statement of interest. However, you can write something like “I have contacted potential supervisors, X and Y, who have both shown an interest in my project.” You MIGHT also have done enough research to be able to state the importance of your work to the field, but you need to be careful about such proclamations when you are just starting out. Just like in a cover letter, there is a fine line between promoting your accomplishments and appearing to be arrogant. Don’t forget your RELEVANT “real world” experience and perhaps reiterate the perspective that you bring to your field of interest (you should have stated this in your opening, but restating and connecting it to your experience is always a good idea).
The conclusion is as difficult as the opening statement. The urge is to write something like, “I hope to hear from you soon” or something of that nature. Your goal in the conclusion is to wrap up everything you’ve just said in a pithy couple of sentences. Don’t be afraid to use the introductory phrase “in conclusion,” because it can help you to organize your thoughts. You can restate your field and the contribution that you plan to make. A specific conclusion is not always necessary so, in the end, you need to make the decision about how to exit your statement of interest.
As a final piece of advice: revise, revise, revise, and then revise again. You need to solicit advice from faculty and have others read through your work.
Trigger warning: this post briefly discusses rape and molestation.
I spent my last post (a long time ago) talking about how Phelps is positioned as the privileged white male through the opposition and negation of the ethnic/racialized Other. I am now going to write a series of posts about a disturbing section of the game where Phelps chases a serial killer, who slaughters and mutilates trangressive women. This is a prequel to those posts. We solve a case in which the worst parts of the social order are exposed. The hardboiled detective (us) exposes what is wrong with the social order and quells transgressive behaviour (Phelps isn’t quite a full-fledged hardboiled detective but more on that in another post).
I know Slavoj Zizek has taken a drubbing lately. Some have said he is a one trick pony, or that he is just another out of touch, overprivileged academic who makes outrageous comments with little thought the constituencies he might effect (such as his recent comments on suicide – yep, he is an idiot in some ways, but should we throw the baby out with the bathwater?). However, when it comes to his work on noir film, few can match the way in which Zizek maps out the power structures at work in this genre. While he does not make the connection to frontier literature that Richard Slotkin does, when we put these two theorists together, we gain real insight into how noir film regulates gender paradigms, locates deviance, and quashes it (or is the detective really able to do this?)
The case that allows Phelps to be promoted to homicide, which is the level where we encounter serial killer cases, provides insight into the centrality of the female body to the game (as property and commodity). We start with ca car crash over a cliff that is stopped by the “Cola King” billboard (so what you will with that symbolism). The two women are not seriously injured, but the driver June Ballard, who is a B movie actress (and married to mobster Guy McAfee), says that she and her companion, a minor named Jessica Hamilton, were drugged and then a movie producer pushed the car over the cliff.
One of the clues Phelps finds in his investigation of the crash scene is a letter to Jessica, the 13 year old girl from her mother, begging her to come home: “You’re not made for Hollywood” pleads her mother, who admits to wanting to go to Hollywood (like Jessica) to be the next “Clara Bow” – but what does it mean to be “made for” something? The mother claims that she got married and realized that she “would have never been happy in that life” and that Jessica too will “realize it one day too.” Here the discourses of domesticity run deep. Beside the letter are a pair of torn panties that may or may not have semen on them, according to the coroner, which suggests that living outside the bounds of the domestic sphere will lead to rape.
Quick digression: let’s just stop here for a second and consider what it means to stop and read a letter in a video game. Actually, we do quite a bit of this in L.A. Noire, because we are investigating clues. In other words, we must read every scene we enter visually and textually. Zizek compares hardboiled detectives to analysts: they must look at the most fragmented and distal of clues to piece together a coherent narrative. That is the task of the detective: the create coherency and civilization out of chaos. This is exactly what we do when we take on Phelp’s perception in the game. The multi-modality of noir fiction and film exploits the universe of the video game. More to be said on this in the book but end of digression.
I’d like to invoke some Shirley Samuels here because I see a similar “logic” going on to the one she parsed out in her tour de force chapter “Generation through Violence: The Making of Americans” (inRomances of the Republic) on the ways in which the female body operates on the frontiers of James Fenimore Cooper’s Last of the Mohicans (1826) (LOM). I realize a novel written in the early national period would seem to have little to do with a video game released in 2011 but why not? After all, as Slotkin states, the hardboiled detective is nothing more than an urban frontiersman, and Cooper’s series of books (the most popular and durable of which is LOM) on the exploits of the Deerslayer or Natty Bumppo.
Samuels writes that the generative possibility of the female body is dangerous on the frontier – her body threatens the Republic because it is out of the control of the heteropatriarchy. Women are the biological carriers of a certain type of American identity. I am taking some liberties with Samuels’s argument here, but on this urban frontier, the female body is under threat by “savage” Others. The promise of domestic bliss that Jessica’s mother desires and Jessica embodies by virtue of her virgin whiteness is threatened by men like Marlon Hopgood (the owner of a prop store and a “casting couch,” if you catch my drift) and a corrupt movie producer Mark Bishop who “likes em’ young,” according to Mrs. Bishop. In this circumstance, the female body operates as a kind of X factor. A body that lures and causes cis men to commit crimes. While Jessica is the victim, when Phelps reads the letter and subsequently discovers that she does not want to go home, we learn that, like women in frontier narrative, Jessica is a wild thing who must be tamed (and the men who raped her are savages, which, btw, conforms to Cooper’s original fictionalization of captivity and frontier histories).
Here is where I am going to play around with the Phallus (sorry). Theory jockeys know quite well that men can identify with the Phallus (the Phallus cannot be possessed; it’s name references the penis, and, hence, heteropatriarchy, but is not to be confused with the actual male organ) but women must BE the Phallus or desire. To think this paradigm through by way of (a possibly tired) analogy, when Jabba the Hut chains Leia to him as a dancing girl, he possesses power and she must BE or perform as desire for him. What we need to do is take back agency and power (I know, do we strangle the “Phallus,” as Leia does? I wish).
Now, let’s connect this idea back to L.A. Noire. What we find is that Jessica, much like Leia, is expected to perform in one way for the men who promise her movie roles and another for Phelps and Bukowsky – in either case, she must genuflect to the Phallus. Guess what? she wants to, because that is part of rape culture. Jessica will put herself in harm’s way. That is the narrative myth. The Phallus is the signification of the desire, and this game writes that desire into existence, if you see what I mean. The Phallus is the fantasy of power, after all. Jessica becomes the representative of all white girls and their burgeoning sexuality. June Ballard is the representative of women who are losing their sexual appeal, and Jessica’s mother is the woman who has fulfilled her manifest domesticity. Her voice is all but silent save for a letter than can only be brought to life by the detective figure: the possessor/definer (?) of the Phallus. This scenario in different forms is played out continuously in popular console and online video games. We need to queer up these stories.
When Phelps questions Jessica about her “abuse” (the word “rape” is not used in the game, but Jessica was drugged and her underwear ripped off, so, yeah, she was raped), she is evasive.
Phelps suggests she should go back home, but Jessica insists that she might get a part, to which Bekowsky comments, “It’s the tale of this town, Cole, Lambs go willingly to slaughter.” This metaphorical reasoning positions Jessica is the proverbial lamb and links this urban frontier even more fully to the representation of womanhood on Cooper’s frontiers. You know what is extra-depressing about all of this? That in 2014, white women are still being positioned as sexual victims and perpetrators of their own victimhood (if they do not agree to to the Phallic pact of domesticity and perform as the guarantors of racial and cultural purity).
As the case continues, we meet with Mark Bishop’s wife. Remember that he is the movie producer who jammed a prop under the accelerator and tried to murder Ballard and Hamilton. As mentioned earlier in the post, his wife confesses that her husband “likes them young” and she was one of his conquests early on. She also makes an interesting comment that Ballard “sacrificed” Hamilton to Bishop. Hamilton’s youth becomes cultural capital to compensate for Ballard’s age and, therefore, diminishing sex appeal on the Hollywood marketplace. We gain points for pushing Mrs. Bishop into admitting that young female bodies are objects of exchange for male studio executives. Phelps controls the questioning and, we control Phelps, therefore, we need to get Mrs. Bishop to perform the right speech act. In other words, the game rewards us rewarded for dominating female speech.
Phelps and Bekowsky are sent to Silver Screen Props to investigate what appears to be a pedophile ring. We step into an elevator to get to Silver Screen props and I think it is vital to note that the controller vibrates when we ride in the elevator. Is it fooling me that I am in the elevator – no. I mean, come on. However, this is an important CONNECTION between my body and the body I am controlling – right? I am Phelps in this space, in other words.
In any case, we go to Silver Screen Props and what do we find? The aforementioned Hapgood and his classic casting couch set up with secret camera rooms and two way mirrors that both film young girls in compromising positions and also peep into the bathroom. We discover that the rape film of Jessica and Mark Bishop is missing but may be at a set where Bishop is filming a B Movie “Jungle Drums.” The interesting part about this set is the reference to savagery and barbarism. Set in a mythologized African setting, the film set sends our ostensible frontier hero, Phelps, into the wild to protect civilization as represented by the white female captive, Jessica. This is a longstanding paradigmatic myth in American culture that is played out in an urban setting in L.A. Noire. Phelps, with Bekowsky as his sidekick must protect civilization from the encroachment of savage males, who cannot control their sexual impulses and violate white girls who should grow up to manifest domesticity. Bishop is paralleled with savage racialized others who represent that which must be civilized. Phelps is the great white “civilizer” who will save the white female from sexual transgression (despite Jessica’s wish not to fulfill her mother’s domestic role).
Of course, this section of the game is linked to the award winning 1948 thriller The Fallen Idol. I am still sorting through ideas….as you can tell.
This might sound a bit strange, coming from someone who raffled off an EB Games gift card at a recent promotional appearance. But there’s a very big difference between supporting the gaming industry by shopping at EB, and supporting EB by shopping at EB. If you’re sagely nodding your head, then you know what I’m talking about; if that sentence came off as confusing as heck, then this piece is for you.
And we enter.
In North America, Gamestop (and the Canadian company it now owns, EB Games) is the rule of the day if you’re looking to buy games from a brick-and-mortar store, unless you’re lucky enough to have a good indie game shop in your area. Gamestop is all about pushing the used games on you as opposed to new copies, and they take this extremely seriously. A couple years ago, I noticed that the yellow-stickered “used” stickers…
Cow Kingdom has come online, but move along – there’s nothing to see here. All that’s here is a bit of design, a bit of site layout, and a whole lot of placeholders. However, there’s a cool bit of technology that we’re using here. If you haven’t seen it yet, Google has a new design concept for the newest version of Android: Material Design.
Material Design – Nice, simple, clean.
We thought it looked nice. Clean look and smooth effects. We liked it. Then we found Polymer: material design for the web. That is how we are designing our website for the game.
Recently, a senior emeritus professor called me out because he hadn’t seen me at a talk in a different department (let’s say it’s Astronomy). “I’ve never seen you at a single Astronomy talk,” he admonished. “You really need to go to those.” I patiently explained that I typically have a teaching conflict, which he brushed off, and repeated his imperative that I really needed “to go to those talks.” He was angry at my laziness in failing to attend these critical seminars in a tangentially related field, and didn’t respect my explanations that 1) I couldn’t, and 2) even if I could, I have to make hard choices and don’t always have the luxury of doing everything I’d like to.
Now, I’m an interdisciplinary scientist– in fact, my position is split between a departmental home and an interdisciplinary institute, which means I go to twice as many faculty meetings and probably four times as many…
Viva voce—“with living voice,” but also (and more commonly) the phenomenon of “word of mouth.” When incidents of speech, song, or shouting take place, it is the mouth that transforms private impulse into audible sound. Articulatory phonetics tells us that this physiological transubstantiation is little more than the aerodynamic energy of breath rendered into sound waves, or acoustic energy. Yet when do words become more than translations, and mouths more than translating machines?
How do words fare when adapted across different media? From censorship to speech impediments to tensions of class, race, ethnicity, and ability, failures to communicate by word of mouth manifest everywhere. Are these failures being remediated, and if so, by what means have words (and mouths) been altered to increase their accessibility and intelligibility? On the other end of the spectrum, how do we prevent our private words from becoming word of mouth in an age…
The driving in L.A. Noire can be tedious, but I actually enjoy getting to know the city, so the complexity and realism of the game environment tends to outweigh having to obey traffic laws. Yes, you read that right: I have to stop at stoplights (I admit to running a few) or face penalties, such as really cutting remarks from my partner.
Why would the developers create such a detailed environment if we weren’t meant to tour around? I realize this is a convention of Rockstar games, in general, introduced in Grand Theft Auto and perhaps perfected in Red Dead Redemption, but let’s think about this for a second. Most of Rockstar’s games work from durable American genres that are what I like to call “landscape dependent.” That is, in the gangster/crime genre, western and noir fiction, land is plenty important. These genres are Rockstar’s bread and butter and in each, the lay of the land and the ability to CONTROL the land is crucial.
This is where knowing about frontier literature and its ideologies comes in handy. Annette Kolodny’s The Land Before Heror even H.N. Smith’s The Virgin Land, lays down the importance of land/property in American literature and, by extension, culture. In American literature, and by extension, culture, land is often equated with the female body and described as being penetrated or taken (among other sexual metaphors). Spread the seed of God and be plentiful, to paraphrase Puritan leaders (like Cotton Mather and John Winthrop). Sacvan Bercovitch argues that Puritan biblical rhetoric turned the geography of the Americas into a “Christianography” where “metaphor becomes fact, and fact, metaphor.” I think it is hard to deny that American most certainly is a Christianography when President Barack Obama recently declared that “No just God would stand for what (ISIS) did yesterday [murder journalist James Foley] and what they do every single day.” The implication is that a just God is on the side of America, but I digress. The point is that the United States, as a land mass is mythologized/fantasized as a female:
While some historians claim that the metaphorical representation of America through the female body has declined, there are ongoing examples of this paradigmatic myth, which is diffusely spread across the cultural field.
Video games like L.A. Noire make for excellent examples of how a certain type of national masculinity operates. The metaphorical positioning of the land as a female, and, in turn, the American male as the rightful one who will possess her, take her, develop her and so forth has already been mapped out by Kolodny, Nancy Cott, and Karen Sanchez-Eppler. While we may have seen the “decline” of such representations of femininity in other forms of mass culture (although this is debatable), the use of literary genres that DEPEND on this kind of representation by game developers reconstitutes and spreads this gendered national metaphor/discourse/mythology. Know why this matters? Because on a macro scale this is how the U.S., in part, maintains its illusory ranking as a superpower; on a “less macro” level, this representation of femininity positions women as passive bodies that require penetrating. This has to stop.
Over the next few posts, I will get into the ways in which the land-property-gender paradigm at work in American culture has informed and is informed by L.A. Noire; for the rest of this post, I am going to look at how “penetrative,” brutish masculinity operates in L.A. Noire (which, in turn, works as a case study – in other words, these types of male characters are widespread in video games).
Let’s turn to one of the authors that instituted this form of brutish masculinity: Raymond Chandler. He famously says,
“Down these mean streets a man must go who is not himself mean, who is neither tarnished nor afraid. The detective in this story must be such a man. He’s the hero. He’s everything. He must be a complete man and a common man, yet an unusual man…he is neither a eunuch nor a satyr. I think he might seduce a duchess, and I’m quite sure he would not spoil a virgin…”
But is Phelps this kind of detective? Yes and no. He does live in a civilized zone that requires protection – Hal Himmelstein defines the popular myth of suburbia as a utopic space set between the frontier wilderness and urban squalor. When we are first introduced to Phelps, we see home leaving his suburban home and waving goodbye to his wife and kids as he sets out on the mean streets. Phelps’ “frontier wilderness” is the crime and criminals he encounters that disrupts the “virgin land” of suburban promise.
Quick aside – it is vital to note that we are not dealing with a print text here. Video games, as I said in my previous post on methodology, are a bricolage of narrative forms and performativity. Video games are so powerful that they are used to enhance cognitive control in Alzheimer patients, among other medical uses. Video games change minds, full stop, so when I say that certain video games are reviving longstanding national metaphors that oppress certain cultural groups, genders, and sexualities, we need to think about how to change the way video games are perceived and used. It’s not about censorship, my God, NO! But we do need to think about how games are developed and for what purpose. Can we, for example, convince companies like Rockstar and EA to be much more ethical in their representations and remediation of durable literary genres? Aside finished.
Phelps certainly fulfills Chandler’s idea of a hard-boiled detective. Chandler says that the hardboiled detective is an honourable man who is honourable in all things; he is a common man, he is a lonely man (despite his seduction skills) – I mean, this is quite a list and the “neither-nor” phrases place this detective as a liminal character, which is what Slotkin builds on, using a copia of evidence to show that the hard-boiled detective is both “policeman and outlaw” – a frontiersman, in other words,a man who recognizes the drawbacks of civilization and authority, but will still “fight the good fight.” In this light, Phelps is a good little hard-boiled detective, except that Phelps is also ambitious and intellectual, two traits that do not fit with of the kind of rugged individualism and de-evolutionary masculinity that defines the hardboiled detective. John Pettegrew explains inBrutes in Suits that U.S. culture privileges a fantastical form of atavistic masculinity that devalues intellectualism and overvalues brute force, conquest, and aggressiveness. Of course, I have to add that this form of masculinity is all too often tied to white privilege, particularly in terms of frontier ideology. While Phelps does ultimately fail as the hardboiled detective (partly because he uses his thinker just a little too much), he is our main protagonist for almost a third of the game, so his male prowess on the urban frontier must be established. His positioning as the possessor of white male power and privilege is achieved through control of the raced male body (control of the female body occurs in force later in the game -privileged white masculinity has a body count in this game, and that’s just fine, apparently).
Edward Kalou is our first bad guy, whose olive skin and shifty demeanor identify him as Other.
He is identified as Jewish, and his faith and race are foregrounded at every opportunity. It is interesting that he is the first character we interrogate or “read,” since interrogation in L.A. Noire is all about learning to read identities – this is a crucial skill. When we are performing as interrogator, we have expected to read facial expressions and choose whether we doubt the suspect, believe him, or accuse him of lying. In other words, through our positioning as a member of the Repressive State Apparatus, we have the power to judge the speech acts of others as felicitous or not. Of course, we, in turn, are under the power of the script and code. If we choose to believe Kalou, we lose points, if we accuse him properly, we win. The rewards of the game are directly tied to our ability to position Kalou as the untrustworthy, irrational Other.
Once we apprehend Kalou, we hear the voice-over explain that there is “the case that makes yah and the case that breaks yah.” This is the one that makes Phelps’ career, because he is given the opportunity to conduct the interrogation. The (Irish stereotype) Chief praises Phelps for being a war hero, who sent “the heathens back to where they came from.” The tone is set: Phelps is on the side of God and now he will go and interview a suspected murderer: a person of Jewish faith no less. Kalou’s purpose is to do more than teach us about interrogation, he is there to be a foil for Phelps. Where Kalou is a coward, who runs away and surrenders with no resistance at all; Phelps chases his man and apprehends him at great personal risk (we encounter this fact when we complete the requisite side missions before encountering Kalou). Where Kalou smokes nervously and swears; Phelps is cool, calm, and clean.
During the interrogation, Phelps implies that Kalou killed Everett Gage because for religious reasons. Kalou asserts that his faith and ethnicity are his business in an apparently free country: “this isn’t Germany,” he yells. This is not an irrational response in the least; after all, the U.S. Constitution guarantees Kalou’s right to expression and religious freedom, but it is Kalou’s performance of masculinity that pegs him as “un-American.” For example, when Phelps implies he is Communist, Kalou loses it, calling Phelps a “goy pud-snatcher.” In fact, 99% of the Yiddish Kalou uses is expletives, indicating to the player that not only is he irrational and hyperbolic, his “ethnic” language is vulgar. He is, therefore, not a “good” man. The game makes clear that he is outside the American symbolic that values Phelps’ performance over Kalou’s (the worm turns later in the game).
Kalou makes it clear that he was harassed by Gage who called him “kike” and tried to run him out of business, which gives us insight into the hierarchical order of race in the game. Phelps is somewhat sympathetic, but makes it clear that Kalou must pay. Phelps’ sympathy plays into white liberal sentimentalism that acknowledges racism is wrong, but also makes it clear that white power structures will solve the problem of racial strife. That is, Phelps – in this section of the game – is the paragon of white masculinity: rational, stoic, loyal, and strong, which is all verified through Kalou as the oppositional Other. This binary positioning of Phelps (white = right) and Kalou (ethnicity = wrong) works to negate Kalou’s complaints. Clearly, he cannot handle bad white people, he needs to leave that up to the best white people, which is Phelps (actually, it’s Kelso but we aren’t to that part of the game yet).