The Gentleman's Reticule

As the reverberations of Modern Warfare 2’s recent kersplosion gradually ebb away and we all warily get back on our feet, coloured grey from head to foot in commentarial debris but happy to be alive and heartened by the realisation that we are all, despite our many forms and colours, human and fundamentally the same like what happens at the end of Volcano; it is obvious that computer gaming has hit something of a high water mark.  With events that include broadsheet reviews, Newsnight Review, record sales figures and Leicester Square premiers MW2 has shunted computer gaming ever closer to the boundaries of what can possibly be described as ‘wider cultural consciousness’.

Admirable success indeed, especially considering the fact that we should all surely be sick of conflict, especially the modern variety: ‘War.  Huh.  Yeah.  What is it good for?’, as Jesus once said.  Well apparently, Jesus, the answer is selling computer games.  In the light of Infinity Ward’s strapping new recruit, I offer you, dear reader, a little retrospective on two somewhat overlooked military themed computer games and a few things they did ever so slightly differently.  How copy, over?  (Now you say ‘Solid copy’).

Hidden and Dangerous.

Ahh, playing H&D is like slipping into a comfortable old friend.  It is a dusty brocante of classic militaria with a grand atmosphere and the stiffest of upper lips.  On start we are presented with dozens of fine men from which to forge our crack squad of four, and with each their backstories and statistics.  I pay little attention to the biogs and the stats , of course, should be ignored for the only trait that truly counts in a war with Gerry is how preposterously British the squaddie’s name is.  Yet, when commencing a play-through I have always found myself picking my squad and sticking with them where possible throughout the campaign.  There is something compelling about taking charge of your hand selected team and leading them into harm’s way and safely back out again.  H&D is a game set within the grand narrative of World War II with the missions framing unique plots the details of which are directed by your orders and the subsequent actions of your soldiers.  It is a strength of the game design that you have the experience of overall command and a vivid proximity to the fighting on the ground.

The concept of ‘the mission’ is one of two fundamental principles in any military themed computer game, the other is death and in H&D death is palpable because the game does not care if your men, and by extension you, live or die.  Lose half your squad but complete the mission and you will progress.  A casualty can be replaced, it is only the player’s whim or ability that decides the fate of the individuals and it takes a man of sterner stuff than I to leave a body behind in the theatres of war ravaged Europe or Asia without considerable pangs of guilt and regret.  We expect death to occur in our war games, the kooky team mate is probably going to bravely snuff it as in Brothers In Arms or World in Conflict.  Modern Warfare has popularised the sudden killing off of the player controlled character - this was a startling and effective device in MW1.  When this happened to me in MW2, from the relatively early death of Private Allen, I took all survival with a pinch of salt; I’ve survived the mission, now I have to see if I survive the plot.  Every time I was affected by the game’s writer in such a heavy handed way, I became more conscious of my minimal influence and the fact that I was only really along for the ride.  My significant choices amounted to completing the mission, failing the mission and reloading.  That scene in MW2, shocking though it is to a degree, has less resonance for just this reason.  What H&D does superbly is heft responsibility over to you the player - there are no missions within the game that are impossible for the whole squad to survive, certainly the odds are squeezed in many places and the drama ramps up accordingly.

War games don’t often make you feel culpable.  Keiron Gillen has written about Cannon Fodder and its underlying pacifist agenda and while I wouldn’t go as far as to say that H&D displays the same sentiments, it certainly provokes a similar feeling of responsibility for the unexceptional  folk whose survival or death are only side notes in the sleeves of mission dossiers never deliberate plot points.  It is a reminder of the sacrifices war has forced ordinary folk to make; what other game posits you and men with names like Kevin Turner in situations of near certain death?

Vietcong.

Oops.  This seems to have inadvertently turned into a bit of a 2K Czech love in.  Never mind, eh?  I have very fond memories of Vietcong but after a little dabble just now it’s obvious that I’ve been spoiled by more sophisticated titles since.  However the game still manages a solid job of dressing the scene for a classic ‘Nam experience with great sound and emotive combat which actually made me jump like a reservist on several occasions.  Missions are generally funnelled through some very linear jungle, along with occasional nightmarish tunnel affairs, and when you meet with the enemy your squad swears and shoots at them.  Brutal indeed, as war is.  When the gunfire has ceased you can approach the corpses of your fallen foe and search their bodies, occasionally producing military documents but sometimes letters and personal pictures which you hold in your hand, replacing your weapon until you left click to dismiss them.  There is no game related reason why you find these things but it is interesting to be presented with the human side of the opponent you have so readily gunned down.  I admire 2k Czech, then Illusion, for imbuing the bad guys with a little humanity and thus making their game slightly less of the duck shoot which FPSs can so often become.

Another great thing about Vietcong is that it includes something which few other military games do: downtime.  After each mission you return to your basecamp  at Nui Pek where you can stay in your little bunker, read mission write-ups, listen to the radio, and wander about the camp to do some target shooting and interact minimally with the other characters around you.  There’s no great depth to this aspect of the game but it’s always fun to have something other than a loading screen to introduce the next mission, for me at least.  Some people may want to jump straight back into the action but I like the decompression time and pacing this gives the game between the moments of excitement and tension during the missions.

That sign says Nui Pek.  Your basecamp.  It is on fire.

Your Nui Pek basecamp is a dependable constant throughout the game and you’re never happier to see it than when you’ve crawled through miles of at once boring and bloody terrifying VC tunnels.  This makes the final mission all the more affecting: an undefeatable enemy assault, and your eventual evacuation of this once safe haven.  Not only must you all flee by helicopter leaving behind a bunker full of your personal effects made familiar over the course of the game, but this final mission signifies that all your efforts throughout, all the missions completed, people killed and tunnels crawled through, have amounted to nothing.  The enemy can still come into your home and forcibly evict you.  Few games end with such a kick in the balls.  While doing its best to convince you of its brainlessness Vietcong throws up some surprising moments of poignancy.