There will always be an end to the story. No matter how long the epic stretches, there will come a time when the final period dots the page and the audience shall rise to leave, making reference in passing to what was, without a doubt, a profoundly unique experience. Forever inexplicably changed by, in the grand scheme, a minor detail in their lives.
Death as a concept is one that is invariably linked to video games. There was once a time when children would discover the concept of death because of the family cat or a bird found in their backyard, but that is now a role much less traumatically serviced by The Super Mario Brothers. You see (unlike a cat), Mario and Luigi usually start with three lives. If you get hit by an enemy, you die and lose a life. If you fall into a pit, you die and lose a life. If you waste all your time, you die and lose a life. When all your lives run out, it’s game over and probably time to pass the controller.
“Aw, I died again!” was a phrase I said frequently at the age of five, almost entirely because I was bad at Super Mario Bros. My own mortality (or the fact that I should try timing my jumps a little sooner) was never something I could fully comprehend at that age, but nonetheless death sulked in my young mind. A certain morbid fascination can grow in adolescents when exposed to such concepts and I was no different. I can recall finding my father’s PC games for the first time and feeling a sense of discomfort as my eyes passed over copies of Quake, Fallout and Diablo, but I still challenged myself to hold that devil’s gaze.
As I grew older violence and death was no longer part of the game, it became the game itself. My friends and I spent the majority of our time playing Halo or Call of Duty, two titles that had not reached bestseller status because of their innovative platforming. This set the precedent for most experiences playing video games with my friends up to the present day. Sure the odd title like Tetris Effect or Rock Band will show up as an exception from time to time, but most multiplayer games I play end up being about killing, one way or another.
Over time, the meaning of these actions begins to change. I didn’t just shoot a man, I increased my killstreak. I didn’t just blow up that building, I completed the objective. I didn’t just massacre that squad, I won the round. Obviously this is all occurring in a digital space and nothing is actually being harmed (except my fragile ego every so often), but the longer these franchises go on the more mundane and less shocking they become. As the years wear on, the mechanics of these titles overshadow their immersive intent. Most modern AAA Shooters are unfortunately, more of a checklist of features rather than a groundbreaking experience at this point. At a time when death is pretty inescapable, I don’t see myself surrounded by it while playing these games, those are just points racking up on my screen. This all to say, I am fairly desensitized, but had a surprising experience with an unlikely title recently.
When a couple friends asked if I wanted to be their third to play the new Battletoads, I thought of my mom first. She has always talked about how much she loved the original NES game growing up. Then I thought about how that original game was the kind of title that would have been frustratingly compared to Dark Souls if the latter had existed at the time. After playing a few levels myself it didn’t really leave an impact, but instead left me with a better understanding of my own mother’s temperament. This new release looked promising however (I particularly liked the art style) and was free on Game Pass, so what did I have to lose?
Good ol’ fashion couch co-op, just like back in the day and not nearly as hard as I remembered either! We were Zitz, Pimple and Rash, Toads that do battle! Our long-tongued trio punched their way through the entire first stage without losing a single life. This was exactly the beat-em-up extravaganza we had expected, but with a few toad centric upgrades to add to the mayhem. Egos had clearly been inflated as we talked over the cutscene introducing us to the second stage. It should not be surprising then, that we were caught off guard by the quick time events that began displaying before us. It was clear now that this was not my mom’s Battletoads.
The bond that we toads had begun forming through furious kicks and tongue grabs was further strengthened as we frantically coached one another through our menial job quick time events. We were learning to rely on and support one another. There could be no weakest link and there would be no toad left behind. I have never pressed B to smack my monitor with such sincerity in my entire life.
As stage three began and we took off on our turbo bikes, it was clear this game was not nearly as sadistic as its predecessor. Each of us had enough time to get a handle on the controls and quickly started acting riskier in service of higher point totals. We were laughing as we zipped around and discussed how the gameplay variety helped push the experience forward in an energetic way. As if it was a moment built into the game, my friend playing Pimple asked if we still had health bars and I (Zitz) immediately figured out the answer. I accidentally moved slightly to the left instead of right and was unceremoniously slammed off screen by a wall with no obvious means of revival. So uh yeah, no health bars.
For a brief moment that seemed to last full minutes, we three sat in stunned silence. I actually felt my stomach drop as if what we had just witnessed bore serious emotional significance. The last time I can remember a piece of media affecting me in that way was a moment in Spike Lee’s most recent joint Da 5 Blood and I struggle to even come up with an example before that. There was no possible way to describe the experience other than completely shocking.
Upon communally regaining the ability to speak, a chorus of expletives erupted out. It was clear we all felt the exact same way about the events that had just transpired. A game about toads named after skin conditions had featured an unscripted death that left three grown(ish) men shaken to their very core. Battletoads (2020) was able to accomplish what no AAA shooter in recent memory has been able to. Finally the violence felt like it had consequences. The sense of comradery we had built over the last few stages was now wrenching on our heart strings. We were supposed to be a team. We were supposed to be unstoppable. There was supposed to be no toad left behind.
Moments later the other two boys coasted through a checkpoint and Zitz was back in the action. After a few more deaths due to gradual speed and difficulty increases we reached the end of the stage together. The difference between the ending of the first two stages and the third was stark. All the giddiness had evaporated and while the mood was far from melancholy, there was a hint of solipsism in the air. Phones were checked and upon noting the time, we decided it was probably time to pack it in. We each placed our controllers down, got up to leave and went on with our lives, inexplicably changed by, what was in the grand scheme, only a minor detail.
