Chosen

I’ve been spending some time this week trying to put together a list of my favorite games of the year, both for Isometric and just for my own purposes. As I’m doing that, I’m realizing that I’m kind of putting off what I really need to talk about, which is what has been my game of the year for most of the year, and may still be, which is Wolfenstein: The New Order. I go back-and-forth with this, because I realize that as far as the gameplay is concerned, Wolfenstein is nothing special. It’s a standard first person shooter, which is actually kind of bucking a trend by going back to the old school first person shooter mechanics, with a numerical health bar that doesn’t regenerate when you let your shields charge up after not taking it for a period of time. In fact, I felt like some of the boss battles were even borderline unfair at times, and the difficulty curve spiked a little bit too much for my liking. But my reasons for feeling so strongly about Wolfenstein really have nothing to do with the mechanics, and are almost in spite of them to some degree, because I don’t really like first person shooter games as a rule. In fact, I love this game despite the fact that it’s a first person shooter, not because of it.

No, the reason I decided to take a chance on Wolfenstein was an article that I had read right before the game came out that had implied that the main character, BJ Blazkowicz, was Jewish. It turns out that if that is the case, it was only hinted at in the design documents, and that detail never actually made it into the game. However, what actually did make it into the team was a far better depiction of Judaism than I have ever seen in the 30 years that I have been playing video games, and, as a Jew, this game touched me in a way that no other game I can think of.

Before I get into the specifics of Wolfenstein, I think a little bit of background of what it’s like to be a consumer of games in particular, and of media in general, as a Jew, is in order. The general caricature of a Jew in media is the nerd, or the nebbishy guy who is socially awkward, and is generally not portrayed in a great life. There are some exceptions, of course; Seinfeld is a big one that did a really great job of depicting what it’s like to actually be a modern Jew in America, which is to say that it’s just like being anybody else in American society most of the time, with a few differences here and there. Typically, though, when there’s a Jewish person in media, it’s as the butt of the joke or the wimpy, helpless guy, and not someone who’s a strong character or strong because of their Judaism. (A perfect example right now is the character of Howard on The Big Bang Theory; even among the four main characters he’s the only one who lives with his mother, and anything Jewish is typically just pointed out as one more reason why he’s weird. In fact, in the early seasons he was portrayed as outright creepy, as opposed to just goofy and socially awkward like the other three main characters.)

However bad this is in media in general, it’s way, way worse in games. You can literally count the number of Jewish characters included across the history of video games on two hands, and they almost always are cast as negative stereotypes. Grand Theft Auto has the Jewish Mafia, for instance. South Park: The Stick of Truth has a playable class called simply “Jew”, with powers like the Sling of David, an attack dreidel and something called the Circum-scythe, just to give an idea of the level of sophistication that you’d expect from a South Park game. Some Jewish people can play that game and find it empowering, but I’m not one of them. This is, of course, not including some really terrible ideas that thankfully never saw the light of day.

And even when games try to do it right they tend to fall flat. The canonical “Jewish game” is called The Shivah. It’s a point and click murder mystery from 2006, and the main character is a rabbi. But it ultimately tries too hard; the cursor is literally a Jewish star, for crying out loud. I’ve tried to play it, but it didn’t speak to me, and I doubt I could give it to one of my non-Jewish friends and have it say something to them because that really isn’t my experience as a reform/secular Jew. In fact, when my wife saw the interface as I tried to play it, all she could say was, “Really?!” as she rolled her eyes.

So really, I’d given up on having a Jewish character in a game that I could relate to. I figured it just wasn’t going to happen, and I just kind of made my peace with that. Religion tends not to come up in games to begin with for good reason, so I just kind of accepted that it was something that was going to be a joke at best and leave it to the domain of the white whale. In any event, games have had a hard enough time with female characters, especially protagonists, and women make up more than 50% of population; what chance does a group with a tiny fraction of that level of representation in society have?

Warning: major spoilers for Wolfenstein: The New Order lie ahead. If you’re the kind of person who doesn’t want to see those before you play the game, go ahead and do that and then come back to this post when you’re done.

Then came Wolfenstein: The New Order. As some background, the game takes place in an alternate history circa 1960, after the Allies lost World War II to the Nazis. Blazkowicz was part of a raid on a Nazi stronghold, but was captured and tortured to the point where he was mentally incapacitated and placed into an asylum where he lives out the next fifteen years in a vegetative state. He wakes up as the Nazis are shutting down the asylum despite his doctors’ resistance, and escapes with the nurse who was caring for him. He eventually links up with the tiny remains of the anti-Nazi resistance within Germany and starts working to get revenge. From that perspective it’s a fairly standard bro shooter, though they do a good job of making the characters feel like real people and not just vessels for guns.

Where things get interesting, though, is about halfway through the game where they find a flaw in the concrete-like material that the Nazis have used to build up all of their fortresses since winning the war. They track down an engineer named Set Roth who has the knowledge to be able to exploit the flaws in the Nazis’ technology and hopefully bring the regime down with it. However, Roth is Jewish, which means that Blazkowicz will need to infiltrate a concentration camp in order to rescue him.

This is the point where I got really nervous. First person shooters are not typically known for their sensitive treatment of material like the Holocaust in general and concentration camps in particular. That said, Wolfenstein actually did a good job of being respectful of the location and what it means, and it showed the terrible conditions within without going overboard for the sake of going overboard. (There are scenes with furnaces used to incinerate bodies elsewhere in the game, I should note, but never within the concentration camp scene.) In fact, I welled up a bit as Blazkowicz, upon entering the camp, was subjected to receiving the infamous tattoo that all Jews were branded with during the Holocaust. [Update: It’s been pointed out to me that tattooing only happened at Auschwitz, and this concentration camp was located in Croatia. The scene was still powerful despite the historical inaccuracy, though.]

What was even more impressive than the treatment of the concentration camp was the character of Roth himself, though. Rather than being the shy and nebbishy character I’ve come to expect, Roth is whip smart and tough as nails. This is also the first time I can remember ever hearing Hebrew or Yiddush spoken, and spoken correctly, in a video game. Roth welcomes Blazkowicz back from one of his missions to take down the camp with “Yasher Koach”, which is a traditional Hebrew phrase of congratulations that’s usually used after someone receives an honor during services at the synagogue.

A tiny detail that really showed me that the developers cared about portraying Roth correctly as a Jew was that he speaks Hebrew with an Ashkenazi (Eastern European) accent. This is something I grew up hearing from older people in the synagogues I belong to but which isn’t taught anymore; when I learned Hebrew I was taught with the modern accent that Israeli Hebrew is spoken in. For someone who lived in Eastern Europe at that time, though, it was completely appropriate for Roth to speak with that accent and it actually surprised me that they paid attention to the degree that they picked up the correct accent for that character.

The kicker, though, is the revelation in the last third of the game that all the technology that the Nazis have used to win the war and subsequently rule the world was stolen from an ancient Jewish mystical society called Da’at Yichud, of which Roth is one of the last surviving members. This society has cracked the code of science and gotten access to technology hundreds of years ahead of its time; while stealing this technology is what gave the Nazis the edge, it’s Roth and Da’at Yichud’s remaining technology that is instrumental in turning the tide and winning the war. This simple plot decision takes the Jews in this story from being the victim and lets them be the hero, albeit indirectly. It let me be the hero in a way I’ve never felt before. And it did it all without ever addressing Blazkowicz’s background.

Ultimately, my issue isn’t a lack of Jewish representation in games; I may be Jewish, but I’m also a straight white male, so it’s not like I can’t find representation in gaming easily enough. My issue is that when games attempt to include Jewish characters they often do it so poorly that I end up wishing they hadn’t tried in the first place. Wolfenstein: The New Order is one of the first (possibly the only) game I’ve played that took the time to include a Jewish character and elements of Judiasm as a whole without devolving into lazy, offensive stereotypes, and that’s something that I truly appreciate. Wolfenstein: The New Order may not be the best game to come out this year, but it will always have a special place in my heart for taking my religion and treating it with respect where it so often is either ignored or outright ridiculed.

That’s something to say yasher koach to.

Sticks and Stones

So I got into a Twitter fight last night. The details aren’t important but what’s behind the thing that started it is. And even though it’s resolved now (which is why I’m being vague, because I don’t want to start things up again), I’m still upset about what led to it.

I’ve been noticing a trend lately where people are starting to use autism as the easy target for jokes. Autism (and Asperger’s, more often) are common enough now that people think they know what it is, and it’s something different for them to be able to poke fun of. That sucks, and it needs to stop.

I live with autism every day, raising my two daughters who are on the spectrum. Every day I think about how I’m going to help them learn to work with what makes them different, to adapt despite it when they need to, and to take advantage of the benefits it gives them whenever they’re able to. But I recognize that this is going to be a hard road for them. I’m dreading high school for them in particular, because I remember how hard it was for me just as a neurotypical standard nerd, let alone having a neurological condition complicating any efforts to navigate that particular social minefield.

And this is small potatoes compared to what lower functioning kids and their parents are up against. I’ve read enough stories in the last couple of months about autistic kids who are no longer with us for no other reason than having the misfortune of being born to parents who made terrible decisions they can’t take back, and that routinely scares the crap out of me. So when I see people actively making the world a harder place to exist in for my kids, be it from thoughtlessness or for a cheap laugh, it makes me extremely angry.

Autism is not a slur. It’s a fact of life for a growing number of people, and it’s not something that can be changed. Just because someone processes the world differently than you do doesn’t make them fair game. When you treat them as a sideshow to be mocked, you actively make the world a more difficult place for my kids to exist in. And I’m going to call that out, because that’s not OK under any circumstances.

Basically, if you’re thinking of using a word like “autistic” or “Aspergy” (blech) or any variation of those in a derogatory way, I’d ask you to reconsider what it is you’re trying to say. Pretty much, if you could use “retarded” in that sentence and have it have the same effect, stop and think for a minute. You wouldn’t use that word, right? It’s the same thing, and it has the same effect, only for a different group of people.

It’s important for me to say that if you’ve used one of those words in that context before, that doesn’t necessarily make you a bad person. Everyone has their blind spots; I’ve certainly said my fair share of things that were unintentionally offensive without realizing. (Just recently, I made an offhand comment about having PTSD about video game Kickstarters that I needed to have pointed out to me why that was offensive; I immediately apologized and haven’t used the term in that way since.) The difference is continuing to use the words that way once you know, or to let it slide when others use it.

I’m done staying quiet about this. If we’re ever going to get to a place where autistic people can exist in society just as well as neurotypical typical people can, we can’t be allowing the simple fact that they are autistic to be used to remind them that they don’t belong. So I’m going to call that out when I see that from now on. I hope you will too.

Protecting Your Personal Information

This wasn’t necessarily what I wanted my next post to be, but if I can even do a little bit to help given the unfortunate events in the gaming community this weekend, then so be it.

Ken Gagne from Gamebits was kind enough to send this list of sites to me and it’s a good resource for making sure your personal information isn’t easy for people with unkind motives to obtain. Some sites are more difficult to opt out from than others, but given that it’s your safety, it’s worth your time.

The most important one from this list is Spokeo; it’s relatively easy to opt out from, though you’ll need to search for yourself and provide the URL. The rest of the list is various levels of sketchy and some require additional information you may not want to provide to a random site, so proceed with caution.

http://www.spokeo.com/opt_out/new

http://www.checkpeople.com/optout

https://pipl.com/directory/remove/
https://www.peoplesmart.com/optout
http://www.zoominfo.com/lookupEmail
https://www.intelius.com/optout.php
http://www.zabasearch.com/block_records/
http://www.publicrecords360.com/optout.html
http://www.whitepagescustomers.com/how-do-i-remove-my-people-search-profile/

UPDATE: Ken’s collected all of this information into a feature story on Computerworld.

Player Two Start

Now that summer’s started, I had this grand plan of exposing my oldest daughter, who recently turned seven, to as many of the classic video games that I think she should get to see as I could. (Basically, I’m trying to catch her before she discovers Minecraft and then loses interest in everything else, video game related or otherwise.) We play together as much as we can during the school year, but the summer, with the lack of a defined bedtime for her, and less traffic that gets me home from work earlier in the evening, lends itself better to extra time to play together during the evenings.

I’d built up a collection of a number of classics, through purchases and judicious use of Club Nintendo coins: Super Metroid (woman in space kicking ass, so of course); The Legend of Zelda: The Wind Waker (not among my favorite games, but she’d been asking about it for months and we were able to finally get it for free thanks to Mario Kart 8); The Legend of Zelda: The Minish Cap (she’d read the manga books, and I can’t remember if I’d played it or not); Mega Man X (because I’m borderline obsessed with Mega Man and it has robot penguins, which should appeal to her); and probably some others I’m forgetting. We’ve pretty much covered all the Mario games, so this is the next level, as it were.

But then I went on a trip to the library with my wife, and went over to the video games they have available to check out. It’s a meager selection and all decidedly last-gen titles for the most part, but last-gen still has some good games and you don’t get a much better deal than checking out a game for three weeks for free. That’s where I stumbled upon the game that probably hasn’t derailed my carefully curated curriculum permanently, but certainly has put it on hold for the time being.

The game was Kirby’s Epic Yarn.

———

It should be noted that my daughter has developed her own minor fixation on Kirby over the last few weeks, mainly thanks to the recommendation of my supremely talented podcast co-host Maddy Myers, who talked on one early episode of Isometric about replaying Kirby and the Amazing Mirror because it brought her back to her childhood, and put the idea in my head that those games might appeal to my daughter as well. It just so happened that Kirby’s Adventure was available for the low, low price of 200 Club Nintendo coins at the time, so I purchased it and downloaded it onto my daughter’s 3DS that she’d gotten for her birthday (the Yoshi special edition, for the record), and just kind of left it there for her to discover.

It took her about a week to find it, and she had to ask me a couple of times whether it was OK to open the app because she didn’t know where it came from, but I assured her it was fine, and was hers to play when she was ready for it. She played it for about 15 minutes and then went immediately back to her game of Disney Magical World, but over the next few weeks she was spending less time with Cinderella and Donald and more time with Kirby and King Dedede. It reached the point where she asked me if there were any more Kirby games we could get, and by this time Kirby’s Dreamland for the Game Boy was available at Club Nintendo, so I got that for her as well. (“I can tell this is really old because it’s in black and white!”) So now it’s all Kirby, all the time.

———

I honestly expected to hate Kirby’s Epic Yarn. I’ve never really been a fan of either the Kirby or Yoshi games, even though I like both of the characters. By the time that the first games in those series had come out originally, I was already well past the age where they would appeal to me; I was spending afternoons finishing Mega Man 2 for the umpteenth time, so Kirby’s Adventure was downright pedestrian to me at that point. So basically, I have zero nostalgia for the games themselves. Also, we’d bought the Kirby Dream Collection, which has what are supposed to be some of the best games in the series, but she was too young to really be able to control them at that point, so it was up to me to play through the games, and I found them (Kirby 64, in particular) excruciatingly boring. They’re not necessarily easy games, but they’re really slow paced, and at the end of a long day at work, that’s not really what I’m looking to play. But I did for her, of course.

So when I booted up Kirby’s Epic Yarn, and I got into the saccharine sweet art style, I was completely prepared to be disappointed once again. The cuteness in the game, mainly because of everything being drawn out of strings of yarn, is over the top, and that’s really not what I go for. I felt like it was too much, and the read-along style of the voice acting in the cut scenes didn’t help, either. Of course, I’m not a seven year old girl; the art style played extremely well to the intended audience.

What grabbed me, though, is the co-op. Not only did it turn out that the gameplay done well enough to maintain my interest (which, to be frank, is secondary to my daughter’s interest in these types of situations, but it helps to keep me engaged more fully if I’m enjoying playing the game personally and not just vicariously through her), but the co-op was done well enough that it made the game for me, and it’s kind of amazing that so many games that are ostensibly aimed at kids get this wrong.

———

What you don’t realize when you’re a geek dad planning to raise gamer kids is how bad kids really are at playing games, for a long time. A controller, especially a modern one, is really tough for a kid to get her hands around, literally. They’re designed for adult hands with adult thumb lengths, and kids can try to reach, but it’s awkward for them. Plus, using an analog stick to remotely manipulate a character on a screen is a foreign concept, especially now that most of their early interactions with games are on some sort of a touch screen, where she’ll literally drag the character around on the screen, or the character will move on its own and she’ll just have to tap the screen to make it jump at the right time. Even the idea of press left on a d-pad to move the character left is kind of hard to grasp, and it can be frustrating when you’re trying to get her to follow along in a particular direction.

The better kid-friendly co-op games make it hard to get separated. Skylanders, for all its wallet draining superpower, does a really good job at this, because it keeps both players on the same screen at the same time and won’t let them go off on their own. (The first two games didn’t even have a jump button, which is also a difficult concept to get your grade school head around when you’re just trying to figure out how to walk in the right direction.) Ironically, the Lego games, which are more or less every geek parent’s first stop in co-op gaming with their offspring, are terrible in this regard. Not only will the game go split screen if the players get separated, but many of the puzzles require both players to be in specific positions at a specific time, and that can be really frustrating to orchestrate with a kid who’s still learning to simply work the controller. 

———

So while I thought I’d hate Kirby’s Epic Yarn, the game’s really grown on me very quickly in a way I didn’t expect at all. The yarn motif changes up the Kirby formula enough that it’s fresh, especially in sequences when Kirby and Prince Fluff (the second player’s character) merge into a surfer sliding over yarn waves, or a tank blowing up adorable enemies. It’s hard not to smile at some of the things the designers came up with.

The co-op is really well done, as well. It keeps both players on the same screen, and drags them back to the first player if they get too far away. This in itself can be hard to pull off (Skylanders, for example, has a bad habit of getting confused as to which player is further along and ends up making the stages more difficult rather than less), but Epic Yarn does a good job of only doing it when needed and bringing the character who’s falling behind up to the leader. There seem to be unlimited lives as well, which takes away some of the pressure of needing to finish a tough level for fear of having to start it all over again. If all else fails, one player can pick up the other and carry her through the level, or even use the other player as a projectile. This, as one could imagine, is endless fun for my daughter, who gets to pick up her old man and chuck him at the bad guys.

So, in short, it’s fun. It’s fun for her, it’s fun for me, and it’s fun for both of us together. Would I play this game on my own? No, probably not. It’s not really the kind of thing I’d look to play in my limited time for “Daddy games”, and the incentive of collecting furniture to decorate Kirby’s Animal Crossing-style apartment, easily my daughter’s favorite part of the game, holds no appeal for me. But as a game for the two of us to play together? We’re still early on, so the difficulty may ramp up to the point where this changes, but so far, it’s fantastic.

———

What I realized is that, while it’s fun to play through some of these single player games with her, it’s not as much fun for me to play through a game while she watches, or vice versa, as it is to be playing at the same time. Of course that sounds obvious, but it’s easy to get wrapped up in “Man, I can’t wait until she gets to experience a Zelda game,” and forget the mission at hand, which is primarily her having a good time, and secondarily the same for me. That’s not to say that we’re never going to play through some of those single player games that I’ve collected to play with her, but they can wait a bit. I’d rather have a game that’s not quite as much of a classic but can let us play together, at the same time. There will be plenty of time for Super Metroid and Wind Waker when we’re ready.

Ultimately, this stuff is important because this is our time together. I know there are concerns about screen time for kids, but I grew up with this stuff, and I turned out OK in the end. And from growing up with games, I know the positive effects they can have on a growing kid. They teach problem solving and persistance, just for starters, which are two traits that will serve my daughter well later in life. Even absent that, though, I’m not exactly a toss the ball around in the backyard kind of guy, but this is something that we both enjoy that we can do together, and that’s important no matter what. So even if it has no other redeeming value on the surface, we’re making memories together, and that provides value in and of itself.

So we play.

At one point early on in the game, we come to a level that involves climbing up a beanstalk on top of some enemies that are floating on balloons. This is a bit tough for her, so she asks me to pick up her Kirby with my Prince Fluff, and carry her through it. So I do, and we climb up the beanstalk together, me holding her above my head as I jump from balloon to ledge to balloon, up in the clouds.

“Now remember, Daddy, don’t let me go!”

I won’t, kid. I won’t.

"All Kids Are Like That"

I have three daughters, two of whom happen to be on the autism spectrum. One has what used to be called Asperger’s before someone decided that’s no longer a thing, and the other has what’s currently being described as high-functioning autism. You probably wouldn’t know if you met them, because they, by all accounts, seem like normal kids. They’re happy and talkative, not at all like Rain Man or the kid from The Wizard who most people think of when they hear that my kids have been diagnosed with autism.

(By the way, a complete aside, but did you know that when the girl from The Wizard grew up she became the lead singer of Rilo Kiley? I discovered that band completely independently and that information blew me away at the time, even though it was apparently common knowledge that I wasn’t privy to. If you didn’t know either, you’re welcome. And if you haven’t listened to Rilo Kiley or any of Jenny Lewis’ solo albums, you ought to, because they’re awesome. But anyway.)

So, as will happen, I’ll occasionally get frustrated, because, frankly, parenting any kid is a tough job and parenting kids on the spectrum can try even the most kind hearted person’s patience. I’ll vent online, as you do. And well-intentioned people will come out and do their best to try to offer support, but inadvertently end up leaving me more upset than I started.

So I offer this as general advice for you, non-caretaker of kids with autism (or really, any special needs, for that matter). You will be naturally inclined, in a situation such as this, to say one of the two following sentences: “Oh, all kids are like that,” or, “Yeah, my kids do that all the time too.” And I’m asking you, on behalf of those parents: Please don’t.

The short explanation: They’re not, and they don’t. What you’re hearing that you think you can relate to is either much higher in intensity than the parent is able to describe or it’s just one of a dozen or a hundred battles the parent had to fight that day. Raising autistic kids doesn’t mean just dealing with a couple of odd behaviors that you can work around; it’s more like trying to traverse a minefield on a daily basis, just trying to get through a simple activity without triggering a meltdown because your actions deviated from what they expect to happen. That’s what’s exhausting, but that’s hard to convey and have someone who’s not also living through it understand, so instead it’s relayed as individual incidents, none of which sound all that bad on their own. And they’re not, really, but it’s the sum of all those parts that leads to exhaustion. It’s death by a thousand cuts.

The long explanation: Determining that your child has high functioning autism isn’t immediately obvious, even to the parents. We spent over a year with our oldest going through various early intervention programs, occupational therapy assessments, speech and physical therapy assessments, you name it, before we finally were referred to a pediatric neurologist for the diagnosis of Asperger’s. The problem with all of that, especially with your first child, is that you don’t have anything to compare to, because you don’t know how it is to raise a neurotypical kid. So there’s a lot of self doubt (not to mention externally imposed doubt from concerned friends and family members, more often than not) as you’re going through that process. Even when you ultimately get the official diagnosis, it’s not a particularly climactic resolution, because the doctors say things like, “It’s probably too early for a full diagnosis but…”

So even once you have the diagnosis for Asperger’s or high functioning autism, there’s always that voice in the back of your head making you question if you’re really doing the right thing for your child by going down this path. There’s enough uncertainty, even after getting the diagnosis, that you can still question things. I felt bad about describing my kids as autistic at first, because, well, they’re not that autistic, really, and they’re happy and they can tell us what they’re thinking most of the time and they’re totally not mute and the list goes on. I almost felt like an imposter, like how dare I go around saying I’m a parent of autistic kids when there are parents of kids who are way lower functioning than mine, who have it way tougher, so I should just suck it up and deal. It takes a long time to get past that point.

So while “all kids are like that” is generally coming from a good place, what it does is resurface all of that uncertainty and doubt, because it can make a parent question whether what they’re describing is really autistic behavior or just a kid having a tough day. You’re trying to reassure the parent that things aren’t that bad, and the kid seems pretty normal, because that’s probably what you think you’d want to hear if the roles were reversed. However, what I hear is, “Come on, they’re just normal kids. Stop overreacting.” And that starts the cycle of doubt and frustration and anger all over again. And what’s worse is that I’m not going to get mad at the person who’s saying this, even if I recognize why I’m feeling this way, because I ultimately know it’s intended to try to make me feel better and not as a criticism or an attack, so I’ll just bottle those feelings up inside. And maybe I’ll think twice about venting next time because I’ll feel like other people just don’t understand, and probably can’t understand.

So really, if you want to make a parent of autistic kids who’s confiding in you feel better? Just listen. You’re not going to fix anything by offering suggestions or trying to convince them that things aren’t that bad. Just be there and let them vent. That’s the best thing you can do.