HOUDINI Magazine

As we delve deeper into the 2020s, it's pertinent to reflect on the progressivism concepts of the previous decade. Through a critical lens, this analysis could enhance the effectiveness of our current progressive endeavors. The realm of gaming, as it currently stands, exhibits unprecedented diversity, inclusivity, and creativity. Titles such as Cross Code, Unsighted, Celeste, and numerous other indie games have enriched the gaming landscape with their diverse narratives and innovative gameplay.

However, the industry is still plagued by persistent issues such as online bigotry, questionable decisions by major game studios, and a general stagnation in progress, aside from the realm of microtransaction technology. This lack of advancement is evident in outdated gameplay mechanics, monotonous open-world designs, and archaic notions of progressivism. Notably, larger gaming studios seem to be struggling to keep pace with the changing times.

A case in point is Bethesda's approach during Pride Month, where they faced criticism for superficial support of LGBTQ+ rights while simultaneously denying healthcare benefits and terminating a transgender employee, as detailed in our article here: Bethesda's Betrayal.

I aim to delve into the Tomb Raider reboots, focusing on the evolution of Lara Croft's character. Specifically, I'm interested in examining whether the changes in her character, initially perceived as progressive yet controversial, truly embody progressivism upon reflection.

There's a particular writing trope that has long been a point of contention for me. It's pervasive in character development, especially when it comes to crafting 'badass' female characters. This trope hinges on the notion that a woman must have a profound, often traumatic reason to justify her strength and resilience. What does this entail, you might ask? It's the "I Spit on Your Grave" trope, a narrative that frequently resorts to using sexual harassment and assault as a catalyst for a character's development. For more insights into this trope, visit Sexual Harassment and Rape Tropes on TV Tropes.

In an interview, the executive producer of the 2013 Tomb Raider game, Ron Rosenberg, made some revealing comments about the development of Lara Croft's character. He mentioned, "we're sort of building her up and just when she gets confident, we break her down again." Elaborating further, he stated, "She is literally turned into a cornered animal. It's a huge step in her evolution: she's forced to either fight back or die." These remarks paint a stark picture of the character's journey.

The lead writer of the game also contributed to this narrative by saying, "We're not using rape as character development. This is a challenge Lara has to go through. She's gone through challenges before and she goes through challenges afterwards." The framing of sexual assault as a mere 'challenge' for the protagonist to overcome is a contentious point. This narrative approach was paradoxically lauded for its progressiveness at the time of release. Critics who opposed this story element were often met with accusations of misogyny, as evident in the comments of a Kotaku article discussing the topic. However, this perspective was formed in a pre-"MeToo", pre-Harvey Weinstein conviction era. Looking back at those comments now, it's perplexing why criticizing such writing was deemed misogynistic.

In today's climate of heightened awareness about gender issues, it raises an important question: Why doesn't a male character like Nathan Drake need a rape narrative to be portrayed as strong or 'badass'? In a society where many women have their own personal stories of trauma, we must ask ourselves if this kind of 'trauma-heroism' is genuinely progressive? or is it merely a reflection of rape culture being repackaged and sold back to us?

In an article from The Conversation, titled "Rape is a plot device in Western literature sold back to us by Hollywood," a poignant observation is made about the reaction of certain male figures in the film industry to allegations of sexual misconduct:

Woody Allen described it as “sad”. Quentin Tarantino spoke of nursing his own “pain” and “emotions” regarding the revelations. Oliver Stone, not only echoing Woody Allen’s concerns about “witch hunts” and cautioning against a “vigilante system”, went a step further by suggesting understanding for the challenges faced by Harvey Weinstein, stating, “It’s not easy what he’s going through, either.” What renders these statements particularly offensive – and admittedly, they are offensive on multiple levels – is their portrayal of the alleged sexual harassment, assault, and rape of women as mere plot points in a narrative primarily centered around men.

The 2013 Tomb Raider reboot, despite starring a female lead, fundamentally caters to the male player's perspective. The executive producer of the game highlighted this approach, stating, "They're more like 'I want to protect her.' There’s this dynamic of 'I’m going on this adventure with her and trying to protect her.'" This mindset is evident in the use of a rape plot device, employed not as a meaningful narrative element for Lara Croft’s character development but as a means to evoke a protective instinct in the male player.

This approach in the Tomb Raider reboot is a striking example of the contradictions within progressivism in the gaming space over the last decade. The game was praised for transforming Lara Croft, previously a confident, sexualized character, into a more "realistic" figure through an overhauled appearance and storyline. However, this transformation raises questions about the portrayal of female characters in gaming, reminiscent of the madonna/whore complex. This complex categorizes women into two extremes: the pure, virtuous 'madonna' or the overtly sexual 'whore'. The question then becomes: Is a female character deemed "realistic" only when she conforms to this binary framework?

Burlesque dancers exemplify a fascinating aspect of female expression: they embody sexuality and allure, yet their performance is not necessarily tailored for the male gaze. This concept bears a resemblance to the character design of Bayonetta in the eponymous video game. Bayonetta represents an intriguing portrayal of femininity that diverges from traditional norms. Her character is not framed as motherly, soft, or a victim; instead, she stands as a stark contrast to characters like Lara Croft in Tomb Raider (2013).

As a witch and the protagonist of her story, Bayonetta's design is undoubtedly sexualized. However, this sexualization doesn't appear to be crafted explicitly to appeal to male players. Instead, it seems more like a manifestation of her own character's personality and agency. Bayonetta's character exudes a sense of empowerment and confidence that feels inherently tied to her identity rather than being a performative act for an external gaze. This portrayal challenges traditional perceptions of female characters in video games and opens a dialogue about the diverse ways femininity and sexuality can be expressed and perceived within the medium.

As a witch and the protagonist of her story, Bayonetta's design is undoubtedly sexualized. However, this sexualization doesn't appear to be crafted explicitly to appeal to male players. Instead, it seems more like a manifestation of her own character's personality and agency. Bayonetta's character exudes a sense of empowerment and confidence that feels inherently tied to her identity rather than being a performative act for an external gaze. This portrayal challenges traditional perceptions of female characters in video games and opens a dialogue about the diverse ways femininity and sexuality can be expressed and perceived in digital media.

Turning our attention to the more recent Mortal Kombat games, we encounter a striking contradiction in their portrayal of violence and sexuality. The games feature heavily muscled, almost caricature-like male characters, clad in minimal attire, engaged in brutal combat with female characters. These female characters are no longer depicted in the 'skimpy', often campy, outfits of previous yesteryears, a change made in the name of reducing objectification. However, this shift in costume design is overshadowed by the visceral, graphic violence meted out against these women characters - a part of the gameplay that goes largely unexamined and unquestioned.

It's worth noting that in real life, mixed-gender fights are non-existent in sports like UFC. Yet, in these games, players can graphically shatter a woman's jaw in high-definition with Johnny Cage's X-Ray move. This level of violence seems to be more acceptable than allowing a character to resemble Ivy from Soul Caliber or a Frank Frazetta painting, where the line of acceptability is drawn at their appearance rather than their experience of violence. It is interesting where one draws the line between fantasy and suspension of disbelief in a fictional world, and what is defined as "unrealistic" within that same fictional world. This dichotomy is akin to the debates in slasher film fandoms, where the depiction of nudity is criticized, yet the graphic violence against women perpetrated by characters like Jason Voorhees is accepted as part of the genre's appeal.

The sexualization in horror, however, is not just about shock value or exploitation. It has historically played a role in subverting societal norms, empowering non-heterosexual sexualities, and challenging traditional gender roles. Characters like Cassandra Peterson's Elvira exemplify this duality, as they are celebrated as progressive icons while embracing their sexuality. This complexity in character portrayal raises important questions about the representation of women in media, especially in the context of violence versus sexualization, and the broader implications for societal attitudes towards both. Can characters in the gaming space offer us the same duality we see in horror?

Reflecting on a personal experience, I recall a moment when I was in a motel and happened to turn on the Sci-Fi Channel. They were airing a scene from a horror movie that depicted a woman who had been gruesomely dismembered. The scene graphically showed the aftermath of the murder, complete with gore and severed body parts. Yet, amidst this explicit display of violence, what struck me was the decision to censor the woman's nipple. This stark contrast between the acceptance of extreme violence and the prudishness towards a simple human nipple is telling. It underscores the lingering influence of Puritanical values in American society – values rooted in the settler colonial state that has a complex history with mass violence.

This incident serves as a microcosm of a broader cultural phenomenon where graphic violence is normalized, yet there's an inexplicable aversion to natural human anatomy. It begs a deeper consideration of how the historical context of mass violence and genocide against Indigenous peoples in America has shaped a culture that can readily assimilate violence. This dichotomy between what is deemed acceptable and what is not, especially in media representations, reflects a troubling legacy that continues to echo through our societal attitudes and standards.

The portrayal of female characters in video games often brings up the question: why can't women be both sexy and badass? The film Atomic Blonde, starring Charlize Theron, serves as a perfect example. In this movie, Theron's character is not only incredibly skilled and tough, but she also exudes a captivating allure. Her character is well-rounded, with a rich backstory, complex romances, and significant depth. This film was marketed as the "female John Wick," yet it offered a distinct flavor, delving into a late USSR spy thriller rather than just an action-packed narrative. The film's success begs the question: what's wrong with this concept in video games? Why can't a video game character possess similar traits and be celebrated in the same way?

The criticism of the "male gaze" in gaming also warrants examination. Charlize Theron, as a real person, is aware of her attractiveness. If a video game character were designed to resemble her, how would it be received in the gaming community? Would such a design be dismissed as unrealistic, pandering to the male gaze, or objectifying? This leads to an irony in the gaming industry's standards.

Consider a character like Nathan Drake from the Uncharted series: an international adventurer and a charming rogue who effortlessly takes down his adversaries. His character is accepted without controversy. However, when a female character is placed in a similar role, the reception is often starkly different. This inconsistency in acceptance of male versus female characters was one of the driving factors behind my interest in the Tomb Raider series. Nathan Drake, partly inspired by the original Tomb Raider games, does not require a backstory of sexual trauma to be considered a credible and 'realistic' video game adventurer. Yet, Lara Croft's character, particularly in the 2013 reboot, was shaped by such narratives. This disparity highlights the evolving, yet still conflicting, views on gender representation in video games over the past decade.

Delving into 2010s articles discussing the redesign of Lara Croft in the Tomb Raider reboot reveals a striking narrative: her less voluptuous figure was heralded as a step towards progressivism. This perspective, however, raises an important question: why is the portrayal of a woman with large breasts inherently problematic? Certainly, the original Lara Croft was a highly confident, sexualized figure, partially a result of the technological limitations of the time that led to exaggerated proportions. Yet, it's essential to recognize that there are real women with similar physical attributes. These women's bodies are not solely for the 'male gaze'.

The issue isn't about digital women being 'less attractive'; rather, it's the underlying assumption that 'less attractive equals more realistic equals less male gaze.' This notion suggests that a woman's attractiveness is valid only when it serves male interests, which is a shallow interpretation of progressivism. The true measure of a female character's depth in fiction should lie in her story, her complexity, and her individuality, not merely in how 'sexy' she is perceived to be.

A character designed solely for the 'male gaze' is often a superficial one, existing merely to advance a male character's plot, akin to the stereotypical 'Bond Girl.' However, if a character is attractive yet possesses a rich backstory, a distinct personality, and multi-dimensional traits, then why should this be deemed problematic? Is it because it caters to the male gaze? This raises further questions about the denial of agency to women in such narratives. Given that the majority of game developers, especially in large studios, are men, there's a concern that avoiding the 'male gaze' might inadvertently reinforce the notion that women desire to be attractive only for men. This perspective denies women agency. Considering the thousands of women who have cosplayed as the original Lara Croft, it is reductive and counterproductive to assume their motivations are solely to appeal to men. Such a viewpoint stands in stark contrast to the principles of genuine progress and empowerment.

One might wonder why reflections on developments from 12 years ago remain relevant today. The reason lies in the necessity for male authors, and indeed all creators, to critically examine and understand the portrayal of women in media. A key aspect that demands scrutiny is the pervasive Madonna/whore complex within our media landscape. This binary view has been evident in the evolution of the Tomb Raider series: the original Lara Croft was labeled as the 'whore' - overly sexualized and deemed unrelatable. In contrast, the rebooted Lara Croft was cast in the 'Madonna' role - initially portrayed as 'pure', only to have this purity disrupted as a narrative device to elicit the player's protective instincts, as per the writer's own admission.

The Tomb Raider reboot and the Mortal Kombat series are cited here due to their stark representations of women within the triple-A gaming sphere and the supposed 'progressive strides' made over the last decade. We must question why there is a prevailing comfort with depicting violence against women in games, while the depiction of female sexuality remains a contentious issue. The approach to sexuality in gaming shouldn't be a binary choice between extremes – neither graphic adult content nor a design that deliberately eschews any form of sexualization. We have progressed from the days of sex quick-time events in God of War, and it's been over a decade since the Tomb Raider reboot and the discussions it spurred.

It's crucial to evaluate whether the triple-A gaming industry has evolved beyond this Madonna/whore dichotomy. Can we envision a space in video games where sexuality is presented with nuance, be it through fantastical elements like campy bikini costumes or through genuine agency for female characters? These are the questions that need to be pondered as we look at the portrayal of women in video games, not just from a standpoint of aesthetics but from the deeper perspectives of character development and narrative impact.