I used to think that however horrible the content in novels, it wasn’t really possible for a book to be evil, per se: its contents allowed one to express one’s innate belief in evil or reject it. And therefore, it was okay, for example, for Lolita to exist. Then we found out that Jeffrey Epstein loved Lolita and would preach its contents to anyone who would listen to him.
What is the difference between Lolita and Slay the Princess? In this case, I would argue that video games’ narrative choice actually allows users to engage more deeply with the question of evil — that by nature of its “interactivity,” video games give us the “feedback loop” that Nabokov wouldn’t. I don’t think the question is whether a book or game is “allowed” to be evil, to depict evil. Unfortunately for us, our aesthetic creations do not conform well to politics: good politics does not make for a good game. For a game to meaningfully engage with evil, the developer must make a game that’s both “satisfying” to play (have mechanics match the narrative, provide the correct amount of agency) and have a meaningful moral. Otherwise, I think a game can fall flat in its engagement with evil, become a vehicle for players to satisfy their most sadistic, lustful urges. This toes the line between “a game can never allow us to do evil things” and “it never matters what a game does because it’s just ‘a game.'”
I think Slay the Princess does toe the line. Its narrative, slaying the princess, matches the mechanics, choosing dialogue, in such a way that allows us to seriously engage with evil. Its “meaningful message” is holding up a mirror to ourselves, and it does that by having each little tiny decision be seriously consequential. The “bounds” of Slay the Princess’s playground gives us real moral agency — enough moral agency for us to understand how we can be, in some ways, evil. All to say: sometimes, it is good for games to allow us to be evil, and Slay the Princess, I think, is that game.
For example: the fundamental mechanic of the game is exploration through repetition. The game must be played repetitively in order for us to find all the branching paths. And, as evidenced by the gallery, by the shifting mound’s final exhortation, exploring all the paths is the point of the game. In my first encounter with the game, after I killed the princess the first time (tactically disobeying the narrator’s orders), I “refused” to play the game: I tried to not proceed to the cabin. I left and left, and that ends the smaller run, although it factors into the “larger” 5-chapter run. In this case, the game “punishes” me for refusing to engage. Subsequently, I learned that it was important to “see” the run through, that if I did the same thing over and over again (leaving) I wouldn’t be able to find out what happens. In the same vein, you can’t play through the same small run in the larger run. The game forces us to explore the different options, to engage with all the versions of ourselves that we can be.
Because of this, however, you’re inspired to commit the most evil acts; you’re literally forced to be evil. It’s like Undertale: since I want to know what the genocide ending does to the game, I’ll go out of my way to do it, kill everyone, and suffer the consequences. Did it make me a more evil person? No, but it activated disgust in myself, maybe fear; how could I, a person who like most people thinks I’m on average a good person, how could I be evil? It forced me to confront my own capacity for evil; if it had not given me real moral agency to commit evil, I would never have considered that possibility in the first place.
It is not that video games, like books, transmit blankly their ideology from the developer to us. However, I don’t think that excuses developers from lazily allowing us to commit the most sadistic acts. Rather, if a video game allows us (or even forces us) to be evil, it should teach us the consequences of our actions. In this sense, perhaps games almost have a moral imperative to give us real decisions, “real” consequences. It does us no better to live in an escapist hippy dippy world where there are no hard choices. After all, it’s really not easy, in this world, to be good.
Interesting post! You note, “if it had not given me real moral agency to commit evil, I would never have considered that possibility in the first place!” I’m curious as to why you feel it gave you moral agency — as I felt like it almost forced you to do evil!
With that said, I love your ideas about exploring every path, and how this allows one to explore all versions of oneself. This is definitely amplified with the addition of the various “inner voices,” which seem to really represent these difference versions. The game also really hints at this when the mirror is fractured and the paths diverge — as well as when the princess says that she is a conglomerate of voices.
I do think exploring all the “versions” of oneself is an interesting exercise in moral and self exploration, allowing one to really investigate what they feel is right.