Before we get started, a note: a lot that I’m about to write about may seem somewhat contradictory to things I have said in the past at first glance. I would ask that you bear with me, read it in full to the closing remarks and then judge any apparent hypocrisy accordingly.
This past weekend, I worked at PAX East, the east coast iteration of Penny Arcade’s video game convention. I didn’t work in a Multiversity-related capacity, mind you – I was the assistant booth operator for the Danger Booth, a locally run photo booth (the same we used at our NYCC Party with Image Comics for the Hero Initiative) who were hired by BioWare to operate four hours out of every day in their BioWare Base, a seperate BioWare-centric room away from the main exhbitor floor. It was a good time, as you can see in the various photos (shameless plug), but a funny thing happened while working at the convention.
See, the booth itself was operational during BioWare’s panels. That was sort of the nature of the beast; due to BioWare getting an entire room just to themselves, all their things operated simultaneously. So while we were operating the booth, taking photos and encouraging folks to join us, we would listen in on every panel that BioWare was operating, centering around either a) life at BioWare, b) Mass Effect or c) Dragon Age. Within these three topics, pretty much everything would be discussed, every tiny detail or piece of minutiae that was mainly informative or important only to fans of BioWare’s franchises to begin with; this was a chance for fans to get behind the scenes in a really intimate fashion, as opposed to getting any kind of general overview of the exciting life of making video games. And while I wouldn’t call myself a hardcore gamer anymore (because who has time to game when you have to read every comic being released on Wednesdays, am I right?), the parallels between the comic community and the gamer community resonated to me – in one way most particularly.
Now, I’ve been to quite a few conventions, most of which were attended as a result of and during my time as a member of the Multiversity team. While these days I’ll admit to not really attending many panels (for a variety of reasons), the few I do go to are done so as to specifically hear a writer or artist whose work I enjoy elaborate on their creative process. However, one thing always remains the same about every panel I’ve ever been to: every piece of criticism, whether delivered in a constructive fashion (usually found at a DC panel) or an angry fashion (usually found at a Marvel panel – because hey, no disrespect intended but DC fans seem to suck up to the panelists more than Marvel fans), is met by the assorted creative teams as little more than something to shrug off. Not in an inherently rude way or anything, but rather that the creators want the fans to just trust implicitly that they know what they’re doing, that there is a rhyme or reason behind everything and no, they aren’t going to be changing anything in their plans anytime soon.
That’s the big thing that has become really apparent in comics over the last few years, more so than in the past due to the way in which we now interact with creators: for all intents and purposes, these men and women are here to tell you their stories and if you don’t like them, then they’re sorry but you should read something else. It doesn’t matter so much that So And So is your favorite character of all time, nor does it particularly matter that twenty years ago it was established that So And So did This Thing; whether or not it particularly matches with your vision, the creators will be doing things their way.
That’s one of those harsh truths that I’ve found it takes some comic fans a while to come to grips with. That’s just how the comic industry runs itself: writers and artists are here to write and illustrate. They’re not hereto be held accountable to your whims, your tastes or what you want to see in stories. Of course, this then creates a divide between the creative teams and the readers, and it’s one that is often lamented while being extremely prevalent towards how we interact with the storytellers. This “lack of accountability,” though, is how we end up with editorially driven stories, retcons and lengthy articles about continuity; we care a lot about the books that we read (as we should, given the recurring amount of money we spend on them), but when it comes to holding someone responsible for things we may or may not enjoy, we’re just told to vote with our dollar, buy the books we like, ignore the books we don’t and move on with our lives. It’s not bad advice, per se, and it’s advice I’ve given and taken, but it’s not particularly helpful when you want to read a story with Character X that resonates with you and for whatever reason can’t.
Continued belowWith video games, though, it would appear the exact opposite is true. Maybe it’s just the folks at BioWare being really open, but in every panel I heard in this room (and, please keep in mind I attended no other panels due to the hours I needed to work, nor do I regularly attend video game conventions or keep up with video game industry trends/points of interest), the creators of the game were all extremely interested in the fan reaction and their reception to the material. That seemed to be the most important aspect of it all; there was no related or associated hostility from fans due to what happened to Character A (a tricky situation in general in Mass Effect, given the open-ened possibilities of the game) or Event B, mainly because the creators of the game were so interested in making sure they got it right for the fans. As someone who has mainly been hearing “I’m sorry you don’t like it, but here’s why you should” for the past few years non-stop, it was a strange change of pace to hear, “Well, we did this because we thought you’d like it better, and we’re always looking to improve upon the product and give you guys what you want.”
It was, in no short or misunderstood teams, the reason why BioWare “re-did” the ending to Mass Effect 3. For those unaware, a large and vocal fanbase was disatisfied with the finale of the Mass Effect trilogy (why, I’m not sure, having not beaten the series myself — long story as to why, but I’ve since started replaying it so please, no spoilers in the comments?), so BioWare created a downloadable epilogue to the game to help give fans the ending that they wanted. The panelists, in their own words, basically explained that they didn’t want anyone to feel cheated after spending so much time with the characters and their trials, and in order to appease their fans – a concept that, as a regular comic reader for Marvel and DC (taking creator-owned books out of the equation), is almost foreign to me – gave them exactly what they wanted. It’s a very weird situation to view as an outsider: the dominant part of my brain is confused why they would compromise their story at all, because that was their vision, but the rest of my brain applauds the endeavor because, hey, way to own the situation.
But why should they? This was their story to tell, not the fan’s story to dictate (that’s what fan fiction is for). Again, while I haven’t beaten the series myself, the Mass Effect ending expansion is such an interesting example of creatives doing the exact opposite of what I’d expect them to do in any situation. After all, while the purpose of Mass Effect was to create a game people wanted to play, there is also a massive story to it, one that was intricately woven by a team to help push along with the gameplay. And maybe the ending wasn’t exactly what some fans wanted, but that’s the nature of the storytelling process – not everyone is going to like how something ends. I’ll bet you five dollars that Game of Thrones/”A Song of Ice and Fire” will leave a few fans distressed with how things end up (let alone this season or the next book), but it’s not George RR Martin’s responsibility to re-write the ending if people don’t like it; it’s his story, isn’t it? We just get to enjoy the fruits of his labor.
So why give the fans what they want? I’ve thought a lot about this since the weekend, debating in my mind as to why BioWare would “fix” the end of their award-winning history-making franchise, but why DC won’t “fix” the issues of the New 52. It is an award-winning history-making franchise, after all, not just some little operation looking for help on Kickstarter; if BioWare wanted to end Mass Effect by having Commander Shepherd eat a peanut butter sandwich and die of a peanut allergy, that would be their right to do so. After a good deal of thought, though, there’s only one thing that I think can answer this inconsistency: because video games are a user-driven medium, and comic books aren’t. And that makes a world of difference.
Continued belowWhat do I mean by that? Well, simply put, BioWare wants you to buy the next game they make. It takes them years to create these things from top to bottom and countless amounts of people to work on it throughout the process; video games, in their creation, are a much more intensive and elaborate process requiring the involvement of a great many folk, from animators to designers to motion cap folk and voice over talent. If you don’t enjoy a game from the company you may not come back for another, and then the years it took to put this project together were all for naught, with the potential of destroying the company and leaving them bankrupt, especially in this economy. It’s a massive ordeal to make, all resulting in you sitting at home and putting in hours upon hours to experience and react positively to it, because for the amount of time these people put into this project you should enjoy it.
But if a comic isn’t bought? Well, not to be short, but it’s cancelled, forgotten to the wastelands of time, and hopefully the creative team will move on to something else that we’ll buy with an equal amount of excitement. Those of us who liked the cancelled book mourn, but it’s honestly quickly forgotten. How many people are still clamoring for the return of “SWORD,” right?
That’s a harsh and potentially dismissive way to look at things, I suppose, but it’s true. Video games are an investment; if you want to play Mass Effect completely, just the first one, you’re looking at probably 30-40 hours for the main story, and that doesn’t include all the side quests you get from exploring and additional stories you get from downloadable content, and it only gets bigger with each additional game (with multiple play throughs of each game encouraged). You have to really want to play that game in order to justify popping $60 down on a counter the day it comes out, whether it be something intense like Mass Effect, Fallout or Skyrim, or something you can even beat in a weekend, like any old first person shooter. You’re in the drivers seat for the video game, you’re the pilot of the ship, and because of this we as gamers feel like the companies creating them owe us in a way that goes beyond fan entitlement – and the companies know this and apparently agree with this.
It’s also a very dangerous dynamic to be beholden to. I really do applaud BioWare for trying to make everyone happy with their DLC, but that sort of thing is tricky. Personally, I was a bit underwhelmed with the finale of Assassin’s Creed III, the only modern game franchise I really have any major vested interest in. UbiSoft is putting out some DLC giving us more time with Connor, but do I think they should do something to give more meaning to the finale of the over-arcing story? Not particularly. I would like it, but the series isn’t over and there’s still time to fix it from an underwhelming moment to a short bump in the road. But if they did put out an extended ending? Well, I’d be all over that. And then I’d probably want more. I can at least take solace in the fact that they’re likely improving the game play elements of III I didn’t like to improve upon in IV, and that’s certainly all that should be expected. Right?
So with all of this in mind, understanding the level of immersion that we have in video games and the accountability the creators of the game take in your enjoyment, it’s a bit curious as to why Marvel and DC to not generally act the same way. It’s not entirely curious, mind you, and you can read a comic in fifteen minutes, bag it, board it and forget it ever existed, but there’s more to comics than that, especially from the Big Two. These type of rules don’t apply to creator-owned titles, but honestly, look at how fanboys and fangirls react passionately to the material, the mythology and the never-ending drama that is company-owned franchies in comics. Look at the amount of people mad about This Thing at DC or That Thing at Marvel, yet at no point does anyone say, “You know what? Ok. You’re right. ‘Rise of Arsenal’ wasn’t our proudest moment,” and then do something to ostensibly fix that.
Continued belowIt’s not the cleanest line of analogy, either. There are examples of creators in comics coming in after other creators and doing clean-up – fixing an error in continuity here or adding closure to a story there. That happens all the time. But imagine if you could express discontent towards any particular company-owned thing — the lack of Stephanie Brown and Cassandra Cain, the over-abundance of Avengers titles — and that the company would in some way listen? It’s not like the video game isn’t motivated by sales, but at least in the case of Mass Effect, they’re putting out the product that the people are clamoring for. I mean, all it would take is for DC to announce a Stephanie Brown-led mini-series or something and fans would (potentially/possibly/probably/maybe) put their money where their mouths are, end of story.
Never the less, as a whole the Powers That Be in comics do not aline with this idea. Comic creators are not accountable for our entertainment in the way that video game creators are, because as a literary medium, it’s held to entirely different standards. The way that we consume the material is in such a fashion that decisions are made beyond our wants and needs months in advance of us ever even knowing about it. Somewhere out their Jonathan Hickman is writing “Infinity” and Geoff Johns is penning “Trinity War,” and by the time we actually see something for it things will be done well in advance. They’re storytellers first, and while they “need” (a weird phrase, I know) us readers, they also kind of don’t; their stories will be told one way or the other, whether or not you or I read them. Us liking them is relatively irrelevant, in the grand scheme of things.
This whole “we’ll listen to you” option doesn’t seem like a viable plan for the Big Two, either. I’d argue that a creator-owned title could conceivably give more props to its fanbase, as “Morning Glories” will certainly attest to, but whatever is going to happen in Batman pretty much needs to be bigger than us. Not in a hero worship way or anything, but just that whoever is going to decide the future of Batman — Grant Morrison, Scott Snyder, etc — needs to be able to make that decision on their own and stick with it. This is all just more nature of the beast stuff, but it’s never the less a cold, hard truth; once fans start dictating what happens to Batman, all hell could break loose.
But, you know, this is why more people are jumping ship on comics every day, or preferring creator-owned titles to “Age of Ultron” this and “Trinity War Prelude” that. “Vibe” and “Katana” are already in the realm of cancelation with their sales numbers, even though “Vibe” is a Big Important Continuity Stuff title. Can fans speak with their dollars any louder?
This idea of “accountability” in comics isn’t universal. Creators should be allowed to tell the stories that they want to tell, and they shouldn’t have to do X, Y or Z because you or I are passionate about one thing or another. That would generally cause more chaos than it would fix anything, because comic fans are a nit picky bunch; if DC announced tomorrow that they planned to “fix” aspects of the New 52, it would just be met by the same general sense of malaise and discontent anything they announce gets. But I can’t help but note that, in sitting in that room and listening to those various creators express how much they owe to the fans and how earnestly they want to create something the fans will embrace rather than make something for themselves, it flipped my head upside down on the whole creative process. And really, you can’t help but wonder… what if?
