Tag Archives: games

Of Princes and Endings

An Unsatisfying Ending.

So, a few months ago I finished playing Prince of Persia 4.  The game-play was awesome–and beautiful. The writing was quirky and fun. The voice-acting, excellent and believable. The music, gorgeous.

The ending, frankly, sucked.

Granted, a French company made the game, and the French have a penchant for bleak endings, but the ending was highly inappropriate for the story–and here’s why.  (Spoiler alert)

The game starts when a desert-wandering thief encounters a Princess running away from her father and his men.  The thief teams up with her to fight those after her–and then gets sucked into the story. It turns out there is a Dark God bent on taking over the world. He used to be trapped–but now he is working his way free from his prison. Why? Because the princess Elika died and her father called on the Dark God’s powers to bring her back to life in exchange for its freedom.

The entire game we are fighting dark monsters and racing around solving puzzles and healing the darkness-corrupted lands to weaken the Dark God’s power. The boss-battles are against the Dark God’s minions–or servants–including against Elika’s father. And then the ending battle is against the Dark God himself to trap him again.

Only the “ending” doesn’t end there. Because Elika has to die in order to trap the Dark God again, (thereby returning the world to the way it was before her father resurrected her), the thief, now in love with her, goes crazy with grief and then–in order for the game to actually end–you have to go cut down the tree-seal on the Dark God’s prison, take that power and then resurrect Elika with it, thereby UNDOING EVERYTHING that you worked so hard to do in the game.

The last dialogue is Elika asking, “Why?” and looking up with horror into the thief’s face as the Dark God’s power sweeps over the land.

(End spoilers)

As far as endings go, perhaps they did everything “right”.  The story goes full circle in the little mathematical equation:

(beginning set-up (romance-subplot (middle)))

Everything is tied up “neatly”. Resurrection to resurrection; first no romance, then romance, then betrayal and lack of love.

However! Because the ending undoes everything the player has done in the game, it leaves the player feeling like they just wasted all of their time and effort.  Resurrecting Elika was also a really stupid thing to do. The entire game we know her love of the God of Light (she is a priestess), and we know what she is fighting for and what her happy ending would be.  Her happy ending IS to save the world, even if it takes dying for it.  The thief is stupid, dense, and an idiot if he thought for even a moment that she would love him if he undid everything she fought for.  Dying is not a tragedy here–undoing everything she died for is.

A Satisfactory Ending.

Editorial tradition states that in order for an ending to have impact, the Plot’s and all subplots’ resolution must happen in as close to the same scene as possible, like so-

(<–Plot (<–subplot (<–subplot (<–subplot (middle action & further complication)))))

Where that last tightly-packed group of  ” ) ” are all the plot- and emotional arc- threads coming together to land an ending.  However, if you will notice, the vast percentage of the book is spent building something and only a very small percentage of the book is spent resolving or tying threads.

One of my now all-time favorite books is Howl’s Moving Castle by Diana Wynne Jones.  When I first read the book, however, I found the ending editorially satisfactory–but highly unsatisfying.   In fact, the only way I became satisfied with the ending is by rereading the book several times to picture what Howl’s side of the story really is and see all the other threads briefly hinted at but missed in the very beginning. It took becoming ill years later, downloading the audiobook, and listening to it multiple times in order for that to happen.

Yet still even now, whenever I reach the ending, I’m upset there isn’t more.  I don’t think that’s just Complaining Fan syndrome.  It’s happened enough times where, for lack of a better way to put it, an author sticks her ending true gymnastics-style with no misstep, following the formula that “everything needs to be resolved in as few scenes as possible for the Highest Dramatic Effect”. Yet what it really feels like as a reader is that we got to spend so much time with the characters before and now we’re rushing to leave them.

How is that satisfying?

A Satisfying Ending.

I recently read Midnight in Austenland by Shannon Hale.  I was surprised to discover that her ending looked more like this:

(Character plot (family plot (romance subplot (mystery subplot (middle) mystery’s false ending) mystery end) family false-end) family&romance end) character end)

There were two red herring endings in her book, meaning the resolution was not all solved in one scene or one chapter the way Howl’s Moving Castle and many other books try to do.  Granted, many people who expect everything to be nice and neat might be driven crazy that they didn’t get a tidy package with a string tied into a bow.

Yet her ending meant we could spend more time with the characters. The resolution actually felt resolved instead of rushed-through and hastily tied-together.  By the time I got to the last page, I was happy. Or rather, I was satisfied, sated.  I made a complete journey with the characters instead of  a hasty goodbye once we see the destination on the horizon.

Granted, in short stories and novellas, leaving the reader once the reader knows what the ending should be– is okay. But for novels?  Is that fair to the reader?  Are writers and editors out of touch on what a satisfactory vs. satisfying ending truly is?  Are we too reliant on formulas that produce high drama in exchange for high satisfaction? Or am I alone in this? Am I the only one who wishes authors would dispense with formula and let us spend as much time with characters at the ending as at the beginning?

What are your thoughts? Agree? Disagree?

Examples in Games and Movies

After some thought, I’ve decided on a word or label for what irks me about the female halves of male/female relationships.

An inferiority complex.

I think that’s really what it is.  It’s like the Napoleonic complex where (we thought) short Napoleon needed to prove himself and so he set out to conquer.  The female inferiority complex hopefully isn’t that drastic, but time and time again we see “strong female protagonists” who aggressively defend their strengths in their words and actions instead of being relaxed and comfortable in doing what they do best.

Take the movie Thor. (If you haven’t seen it I will try to prove my point without the use of too many spoilers.) Sif, the only female warrior in Thor’s group of friends, I think is a good example of how this inferiority complex can filter into modern female characters.  In the scene where we meet the group, Thor brags to his friends about his backstory successes to show how they can trust him to lead them on their quest. When he got to Sif, he said,

Thor: Who was it that proved that a mere maiden could be one of the mightiest warriors of Asgard?
Sif: [indignant] I did!
Thor: True, but I supported you, Sif.

The example he used to get her on his side was directly about her warrior skills in a man’s world. The script writers even spun the wordplay on its head to give her a one-liner joke which showed her independence. Up until that point the answer to all of his leading questions was always that Thor had done [insert story here].

Then, later in an actual battle, after a daring move that gets her injured, Sif and Thor have a short conversation about how she does not need to fight to the death, better to save herself to fight later.

Thor: Sif, you’ve done all you could.
Sif: [wounded from fighting the Destroyer] NO! I’ll die a warrior’s death! Stories will be told of this day!
Thor: Live, and tell those stories yourself! (Quotes are from IMDB)

In other words, she is portrayed as a warrior woman in a man’s world who is independent and who is unsteady enough about her own life and worth  that it felt like she had something she needed to prove to herself or those around her.  (Perhaps if you have not seen the movie, I may not be able to prove these points well. It came across more in the delivery and the integration to the rest of the story and plot.)

I am going to contrast this with the game Prince of Persia: Prodigy which came out in 2008.  In the opening sequence our light-hearted Prince has a chance encounter with a princess Elika who introduces him to the game’s story and becomes his travel and fighting companion.  When they meet, she is being pursued by men who wish to overtake her.  Instead of telling the Prince, “I don’t need you to fight my battles, get out of my way, leave me alone, go back to whatever it was you were doing” she warns him about becoming involved in her story because he could get himself killed. The men pursuing her will try to kill him.  These are words motivated by compassion, not from a need to prove to him that she is capable of taking care of herself.   She also doesn’t brag about how she can fight but just quietly goes behind his back and steps in and does so.  No fanfare, no need to be acknowledged by him.

True, she doesn’t like being carried, (but what man would, either?)  She almost faints when she uses her powers to save him the first time. Her skills are acrobatic, light, and healing-oriented. So she is still grounded in female archetypes, but she does not have an inferiority complex.  She fights–especially in later gameplay, interacts, and converses as his equal.

This is what I would rather see more of.  Elika inspires me far more than Sif does.

If you are unfamiliar with the game, here is the opening sequence.

(Note: There are two youtube videos embedded in this post. This is also the last of the pet peeve post week. You may all breathe a sigh of relief!)