[Content: offensive lyrics]
The historical meaning of a subculture is continually recreated as time goes on. Unfortunately, I believe that the subversiveness and artistic value of some of my favourite game and music scenes are now being claimed by sexist and reactionary forces (associated with what we vaguely call the “alt-right”).
These game scenes now harbour tons of anti-politically-correct provocation and memes. This feed of forum posts repurposed for their humour illustrates the tone. One of the DOOM scene’s most prominent modders is under a cloud for racist jokes.
Here’s a musical example reflecting a narrow-minded take on the essence of 90s hardcore hip hop. Some cool lines in verse 3, but preceded by “You want some faggot shit dancing like a bitch”. Warm nostalgia is mixed with ideas of manhood as violent, and femininity as weak, perhaps corrupt, “America rubs its pussy to dead children”.
(By the way, I want to say that hatred and shocking violence in rap lyrics is not at all a clear-cut issue, as it comes from a long tradition of creative nihilism that has had its moments of brilliance. These lyrics in the video, though, are long on the nihilism and short on the creativity.)
The expressiveness and hard work, the fascination, the rebelliousness, the fellowship, etc. found in underground scenes, should be used for good. I think it’s on us to disentangle the good from the misguided and ignorant in our own relationships with media and cultures we love.
Today I want to see who I was when I first soaked up 90s underground culture in the form of video games. I’ll do this by analysing my creative reaction at the time – making my own games. Of course, I already know that my younger self is going to seem privileged and sheltered. More interesting will be seeing how I incorporated my interest in black music in these designs, because that gives me perspective on my present-day obsession with it. And I’ll think a bit about the worldview behind these game styles.
Into the time machine!!
Doped Quake (2001, Quake mod, Kevin Higgins & Paul Cuffe):
This crude joke mod has some interesting features as well as some super-problematic depictions. Basically, myself and a friend, aged 13-14, broke the the game’s combat in order to replace three monsters with humorously “reskinned” versions. The joke is “drug-taking” (which neither of us had any experience of at the time). The edited monsters represent a stoned ‘Nam vet, a coke-sniffing tracksuited “knacker”, and an alcoholic derelict. The “knacker” embodies my own class hatred of the time – “knacker”, for non-Irish readers, being an offensive term for both members of the Traveller minority group in Ireland, and working-class people. The other two depictions are scarcely better, although the inclusion of the ‘Nam vet shows how detached all of this was from my (Irish suburban) reality.
So, the joke is naive and the representations are horrific. But I kind of like how this was made. It’s a very cheeky appropriation of game technology which was only five years gone from the cutting edge. It throws away the ostensible whole point of the game – defeating monsters – for a joke. The new graphics are made in the most basic way, reminiscent of photoshopping a meme. (The “stoner”‘s bare chest, which represents the only significant effort in the whole enterprise, is a graphic I’d made previously to represent myself in multiplayer gaming sessions). The animations of the three figures are completely recycled from animations in the original game. The massive joint was originally a gun, the puff of smoke was a graphic I originally made to represent a bullet impact.
There’s no representation of black culture in this game but it does show a bourgeois teenager’s naive interest in subculture and subversion which has stayed with me – my MA paper in Amsterdam two years ago was called “Blues Is Subversive”.
THEGAM4.BAS (2004, text adventure, Kevin Higgins):
The programmers among you can read the terrible, mostly cribbed, code of this game here. It plays out in text with no graphics, accepting commands in the form of “take plank” or “talk to man”. The writing style is copied from Stephen King and Terry Pratchett, with a hint maybe of George Orwell and Roald Dahl. The first interesting thing is the characters:
- The love interest is a young woman who I imagined as mixed-race, although she’s not described as such.
- There’s a touch of homophobia and classism in places e.g. this description of being beaten by builders: “you are mercilessly trounced over a period of two hours by grunting men in grubby vests with pipe-wrenches.”
- There’s a kindly, stoned junkie who speaks in an African-American accent despite not being described as black (he’s maybe a bit of a Magical Negro, beneficent and otherworldly due to his drug use). Again, my kid’s fascination with drugs is evident.
- Authority figures (state security official, factory owner) are evil. They can be violently killed in one-on-one fights.
I was comfortable with premeditated killings (and in the game), which are described succinctly but graphically. Interestingly, the female character is not present in any violent scenes. I had enough awareness of feminism at the time that I at least avoided a damsel-in-distress story.
There’s a sequence where a busker starts to play funk “manically”, with the music described in technical terms like “dorian mode” which I was only just learning in my bass lessons. A nearby policeman reacts to the music by putting on a black accent, upon which he is rebuked by his colleague. Black music was obviously part of my identity but still seemed offbeat and quirky, not fully compatible with white middle-class dignity.
The world of the game is a grubby dystopia with the state oppressing freedom fighter groups. I think it resonates with Liz Ryerson’s recent description of the world of 90s shooter Duke Nukem: “Because the world is broken, there’s nothing particularly comforting about occupying any of it for very long, or sad about blowing up any of it.” She also says that Duke’s enemies are “just thinly veiled stand-ins for human men. Men with power and authority.” Such men are clearly the villains of my story.
However, my fiction is not about disorienting violence and hyper-masculinity. For most of the game the player can walk in front of, and talk to, his enemies, because he doesn’t draw attention to himself. This derives from Orwell’s 1984 and also from Terry Pratchett’s Johnny series about a 12-year-old in a down-at-heel English commuter town. That is to say, it’s a British thing – and also how I navigated most interactions back then. The grubbiness of my game’s world is from Brit culture also.
Maul Ball (2004, platformer, Kevin Higgins & Stephen Roantree):
When I noticed that I didn’t have this game on my hard drive anymore, I hopped onto Google because it had ended up on freeware game sites when we released it. I was saddened to note only one search result now came up for it and that link didn’t work. Luckily, the programmer of the game, a mate of mine, uploaded it to gamedev.net, and there it still was. Phew! Cultural preservation in the digital age is no joke.
My coder friend made a very slick little game here, I just contributed to the design and made the graphics and music. What’s interesting is the suddenly up-front depiction of black culture. The hero is a black disco fan with an afro, even though this has nothing to do with the gameplay. The soundtrack is ersatz funk I made in Fruity Loops.
However, this (enthusiastic if not knowledgeable) representation of black culture is used problematically. At the time I was leaning more towards the doctrines of the “indie game” scene which, due to a laudable focus on making money, celebrates entertainment value, interesting game mechanics (I think our ball bouncing through a maze was at least a moderately interesting mechanic!) and polish. Compared to my previous subversive efforts, here I’ve washed my face and taken steps towards marketability. Check the description I wrote to entice people to play the game:
“You are disco-loving Leroy! Put on your white flares, comb your afro till it’s bigger than you and smash some zombies!”
Good marketing copy. However, it’s really appropriative, particularly the detail about the afro. Did I at the time (or do I even now) know anything about combing afros? No. Nor did I try ask anyone about it, nor did it occur to me that a black person might play the game!
As I mentioned previously, I think appropriation that attempts to, with little real engagement or study, swipe signs of identity like hairstyles, is perhaps the most egregious.
Still a pretty good game for our first attempt. I should have stuck with it and made some cash. This was a few years before indie games became massive.
Jailbreak (2005, sneak ’em up, Kevin Higgins & Stephen Roantree)
This game is a good deal more sophisticated than the previous, mostly because my collaborator had more input and worked on some pretty sophisticated technology like the prison guards’ “view cones” and pathfinding, plus a scripting system to make speech bubbles pop up. The game is also better packaged with a proper installer, and it earned decent reviews for a freebie. Some of my graphics and writing are good too. I like the menu background you can glimpse below because it subverts the action-hero masculinity I was talking about before. The hero is not the big man with the gun but the thoughtful sneaker. (This was influenced by the classic games Commandos, Deus Ex and Thief 2.)
Again, it took a while to find this game online. Thank god for freegame.cz who allowed me to “stáhnout hru” without a hitch. I’m actually gonna back up this and “Maul Ball” right now.
My representation of black music culture comes up a notch in this one. The soundtrack still isn’t great (I remember a schoolmate of mine telling me he had to turn it off to play the game) but it adds to the atmosphere and uses flickers of blues piano put through a dubbish delay.
However, the cool thing is that the loading screens for each level feature a quote from a song about escaping jail. (An idea stolen from Call of Duty 2.) All of the songs are in black genres, although, reflective of my musical knowledge at the time, 7/8 of the artists are white! Counteracting that, and acting as perhaps evidence for the transformative power of black music’s utopian politics, the quotes are (of course) to do with escaping to freedom. The final quote, which I chose for its emotional depth, tackles one of black music’s most powerful and pain-defying themes, clearly related to what Paul Gilroy calls “the slave sublime”:
“Lord I’ve been gone such a long time, I’ll be coming back home someday.”
So, I think that’s pretty cool.
It’s just a pity about the “pick up the soap” throwaway gag in the shower level, but it was 2005 and I was still in my all-boys secondary school (high school).
That was about the peak of my game-making career, after that I got more into music. Hope you enjoyed the trip and it made you think over your own juvenilia.