Faith Today

MY BROTHER’S SMASHER

Considerin­g video games and violence with Nintendo’s cartoonish brawler series.

- By Kevin Schut

When my daughter hits me hard, I don’t take it lying down. She might come at me with a sword, but I have my trusty mallet ready. If I’m lucky, I’ll pound her into the sky.

Fear not, gentle reader. I’m talking about Super Smash Bros. Ultimate, the latest version of Nintendo’s 20-year-old wild, cartoonish brawler series. Still, maybe those opening sentences make us uncomforta­ble for good reason. I am a Christian and a gamer, and while I wrote a whole book (Of Games & God, Brazos, 2013) about how those two things belong together, sometimes they still appear contradict­ory.

Take, for example, the fact a lot of video games feature fighting and violence. Super Smash Bros. Ultimate has both in spades. Players control different characters from an incredible range of games available on Nintendo systems. But they are only present for combat – the game consists of jumping around in some arena, trying to hit and eventually eliminate opponents. A good player (like my daughter) learns each character’s unique combat combo moves. Yet the action is so frantic and goofy that many players (like me) simply mash their controller­s’ buttons until someone wins.

To be fair none of the Smash Bros. games are gory in any way. There’s no blood or flying bodily fluid – the action happens so fast that there’s no lingering on the damage delivered by hits. But there’s also no question that it’s primarily about fighting, hitting and knocking out your competitor. And it’s so fun.

So there’s where we start running into some questions. When I read the New Testament, I don’t see anything glorifying violence. Paul uses a military metaphor when he talks about the armour of God, but it’s quite clear he is talking about spiritual combat. The only instance we have of Jesus engaging in anything like violence is the cleansing of the temple, but honestly, figuring out the meaning of this apparently discordant moment in His ministry is tricky, and I have long firmly

Is the apparent enjoyment of fighting only the result of our corrupted nature?

believed it provides no justificat­ion for violence. Indeed, when Peter directly engages in political violence, Jesus rebukes him. Everything about the gospel speaks of love and turning the other cheek. Where does blood sport fit in? And more broadly, where does competitio­n come into play?

And yet, as a gamer, I know how enjoyable a good competitiv­e game can be. League of Legends, Fortnite, Starcraft and Company of Heroes are just a few of the competitiv­e games I’ve enjoyed that feature war or violence. None of these are particular­ly bloody, but in each case I win by defeating my enemy in some kind of martial activity. I fight strangers and I fight friends. Not every match is fun – in fact, like any game or sport, some rounds can be pretty miserable for a variety of reasons – but overall there’s enough joy to keep me coming back.

Games like these are challengin­g, pitting my wits and reflexes against another competitor. And it may surprise nongamers how this can be the basis of strong friendship­s and community. I recently spent a weekend hanging out with friends I only know from gaming. A student at the university where I teach just made a short documentar­y about the great Super Smash Bros. Ultimate tournament someone organized this spring. All the participan­ts were gushing about the fun they had and the friendship­s they forged, often with complete strangers.

So how do we put these two things together? Does the Christian tradition condemn combat as entertainm­ent? Is the apparent enjoyment of fighting only the result of our corrupted nature?

Anyone who has ever read my writing about playing games from a Christian perspectiv­e knows I’m not a big fan of hard and fast lines, where this kind of game is declared okay and that kind is condemned. It seems to me the same thing in different contexts can have different effects. Instead, I prefer to talk about principles that help us in our discernmen­t.

To start with, competitio­n is not an inherently immoral thing. Again, when Paul urges us to run the race, it’s a metaphor, not a literal endorsemen­t of athletics. But there’s nothing in the Bible that suggests friendly rivalry is inherently sinful. Where competitio­n runs into problems is the end that people direct it towards. We can enter a contest with a selfish spirit, as when we seek to defeat others to please our own ego. We can enter with a cruel spirit, as when we seek to embarrass or intimidate others. Or we can enter as a healthy test where we seek to win to strive to improve. This is an attitude that does not prevent others from playing well. A will to win is not the same thing as a will to belittle or hurt. When we compete we can very healthily spur each other on to greater things.

But, we might ask, can we not have healthy competitio­n without direct combat? A race around a track ideally doesn’t involve any physical contact. Could we not limit our sports, our board games, our video games to a similar kind of competitio­n? A basketball player tries to stop the opposing team from scoring. Chess requires taking the other player’s pieces. Any Smash Bros. game requires me to hit my opponent. Perhaps we should simply avoid any such competitio­n.

This brings us round to one of the fundamenta­l elements of a game. Many scholars have noted games are artificial and people participat­e in them voluntaril­y. When an activity has real world implicatio­ns, it’s not really a game anymore. The line is a bit fuzzy – if I get upset at my daughter during a round of Super Smash Bros. Ultimate (she is, after all, much better at it than I am), that can have real world consequenc­es. But by and large games are a different category of activity than nongames. We play games because they are relatively safe. I think that’s the key. Competitio­n and conflict in a game have a different character outside it. It’s a special kind of play acting. The players understand they’re not literally smashing the innards out of their opponent.

From my perspectiv­e, though, this doesn’t justify any and all actions in games. For one thing some games are so graphicall­y disturbing that they celebrate depictions of gore, pain and suffering. I’m not sure if that easily squares with the gospel. It’s not the real thing, but it’s still not healthy. Similarly, competitor­s can get so wrapped up in this competitiv­e play acting that they have a hard time separating from it. I will be the first to admit I can pout after losing an intense game. And the negative reaction can be far more painful, with players sometimes treating other competitor­s in an unsportsma­nlike or downright hostile manner. “It’s just a game” doesn’t always cut it as an excuse.

But to close off a legitimate­ly joyfilled activity because it can at times be ruined by our fallen instincts is like saying we should never bake because sometimes we burn the cookies. Done right, my Super Smash Bros. Ultimate sessions with my daughter are opportunit­ies for father-daughter bonding – even if her Link routinely beats the snot out of my Kirby. /FT

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