I caught this article dealing with the value of "silent protagonists" (which is an oxymoron, considering that protagonist literally means "he who speaks first") in videogames, and it reminded me of an argument I had with several co-workers. As trivial as it sounds, while I had a lot of fun at my job these past few months, I think this is the only thing we talked about where one side wasn’t swayed.
My perspective is this: The silent videogame protagonist isn’t an artistic device, and never was, but is rather a product of old limitations on technology, and laziness. There is never a silent protagonist in books, poems, films or television, and until developers finally dump the concept on an industry wide level, their work won’t be able to be taken seriously as an artistic and expressive medium by a significant portion of the population. The problem is not that silent protagonists like Half-Life’s Gordon Freeman, F.E.A.R.’s Point Man or Bioshock’s "Jack" do not speak, the problem is that they also don’t communicate, which harms the character, the story, and the suspension of disbelief. Even if a game was about a mute, he could still attempt to communicate his feelings, motivations and plans by some other means than speaking – sign language, writing, universal hand gestures, whatever. Gordon and his ilk don’t do that. They are only motivated to do things by the player’s hands on a keyboard, not by politics, religion, the need to survive, etc. – making their games not only linear, which isn’t a bad thing by itself, but also shallow.
Everyone’s talking about Halo 3, so it’s not cool to praise it too much right now, but I think Bungie struck the right balance in their attempt to create an enigmatic character that any player can relate to, who also has his own life and background. The Master Chief speaks only when absolutely necessary, and when he does, he reveals a little bit of who he is underneath his armor. He’s a professional soldier who considers his duty first, but still has a soft spot for his comrades in arms. That’s all we need to know about him. Everything else is interpreted by the player – from the death of a close friend, to the sacrifice of a noble stranger, to the strange and confusing customs of an ancient AI, what he’s thinking and how he feels about those situations is up to the player. The reflection in the Chief’s visor is a reflection of ourselves – a poignant thought to those who bought the Legendary edition, and literally saw their reflection in the Chief’s visor when they opened the game. This method establishes a realistic character, while leaving room for interpretation. The problem is that while characters like the Chief are the coolest of the cool, there can be only so many Boba Fetts in this world before the archetype grows tiresome. Same law applies to the Fonz.
The opposite of the Silent Protagonist isn’t necessarily Duke Nukem, spewing out fun one liners as they rip wanton destruction across a peaceful landscape. They’re standard dramatic characters, human beings or otherwise, that an audience can relate to and cheer for, but identify that they aren’t meant to step into that role. Solid Snake of Metal Gear Solid, Sam and Max, Alex Munro of Star Trek: Elite Force, Oddworld’s Stranger, Gears of War’s Marcus Fenix – they all deserve the simple and elegant title of "protagonist," and I think these characters are far more loved and memorable than silent characters from western shooters or eastern RPGs. Because they aren’t restricted by their silence, they can fully express themselves in their own humanity. They have their motivations, goals and philosophies, and aren’t shy in sharing them as their stories are told. That makes them a lot more noble than the mysterious Dr. Freeman, because they’re something he can never be until he opens his goatee’d trap and gives us a Silent Bob style rage fueled monologue:
They’re real.
