A player fleeing from zombies in Day Z. (Image: Screenshot)
Show Hide image

A rape in Day Z: what drives gamers to go Lord of the Flies on each other?

In a game where players can act out any kind of sadistic fantasy on each other - from taking hostage to force-feeding poison to breaking kneecaps - what incentive is there for humans to express their humanity?

Day Z isn't the most difficult game to explain to people at a functional level. It is a multiplayer survival game taking place over a large area of towns and forest populated by other players and zombies. Your character needs to stay healthy, warm and well fed in order to not die, and there are provisions, items and weapons littered around which can make survival easier. However once you get past that, to the 'why' of the game, things get confusing. There is no way to win; there is no guarantee of progress, no score system, no currency. In some ways this makes it one of the most challenging and creative games ever made. Not creative in the sense of the game design, but creative in the sense of how you play it - without imagination, without ideas and goals that you create for yourself the game has nothing. The game won’t tell you what you are supposed to want and you don’t even necessarily have to want to survive.

While the game grants you a huge degree of freedom it also lacks authority and with that long term consequences for actions. There is no automated police system and near-safe zones like you’ll find in EVE: Online; there is no system that simply blocks you from doing the same bad things to players as you would do to computer controlled enemies. You have a state of nature within the limitations prescribed by the game. (There are rules beyond the game, covering things like cheating, or certain gameplay options which depend on the server you’re playing on, but they're reliant upon being caught and the game admins opting to inflict a ban. Past that you’re on your own.)

The problem with freedom in the context of Day Z is that it is inevitable that players will turn on each other. There are simply not enough compelling reasons not to. In fact a lot of the mechanics of the game are actually geared towards helping people to turn on each other in creative ways. This is where things can get unpleasant. You can handcuff people. You can break people’s legs with axes. You can force them to eat tainted food or drink bleach. These are mechanics coded into the game with the presumed intention of making the game more fun for players.

Let’s think about that what that means for a moment. The game designers believed that their game would be improved by the ability to kill other player characters by forcing them to drink bleach.

The game also features voice communications: you speak into your microphone, your character speaks in the game, and people who are nearby can hear you. Hardly a revolutionary idea for anybody used to the idea of meeting and talking to people in the real world, but it’s not something that has really been used very much in video games until recently. This too can provide potential for inflicting misery upon other players. One extreme example caught my attention recently on this blog - a player having to endure two other players verbally pretending to rape her character.

What we are seeing to an extent with Day Z is a game that has embraced the capacity for great acts of cruelty, almost as a unique selling point. Plenty of other games let you kill other players, but few let you mess with them like this. Most games avoid giving players the ability to humiliate or abuse their opponents at length, but Day Z doesn’t even let you manually respawn yourself should you get bored of being toyed with.

How did it come to this? Well, from the point of view of the game mechanics, the game has changed a lot since it first appeared as a mod of Arma 2, and the most significant in terms of how players treat each other is the removal of a starting weapon. In the original game every player started with a Makarov pistol. It was borderline ineffective, short-ranged, inaccurate and not particularly powerful - but it was still a weapon. It was still enough that if somebody was to come after you they would have to be careful. Often the threat of the Makarov was enough to deter even well-armed players from hunting you. You might only be lethal at about twenty yards, but that would be enough. As everybody knew everybody else was armed, there was a degree of respect.

Now new players are known as "Bambis". Spawned unarmed on the beach they are the defenceless prey of the first armed person who stumbles upon them, or who seeks them out. You can’t outrun a bullet and you can’t usually hide too well in the gear you start out with either. You are prey, and the game makes no secret of this.

Beyond the nuts and bolts of the game there is the psychological effect of including abilities like, for example, force-feeding poison to prisoners. This creates a certain mindset in a game. When a developer implements a feature, particularly in an alpha or beta, the intention is clearly that this is what they want you to be doing. You don’t create paths in a game if you do not want players to walk them. To a player who enjoys the unpleasantness, and who enjoys screwing with other players, this kind of addition to the game is a validation.

In fairness the developers are also adding friendlier things (camp fires for example are on the way), so the development isn’t a totally unfettered march towards barbarity - and at least there's no cannibalism. The risk, of course, is that if you add features like poisoning or maiming into the game, then where is the moral case for not including other acts of brutality? How far of an ethical leap is it from breaking a stranger’s legs and leaving him to be eaten by zombies to eating him yourself? If anything it is something of a surprise that cannibalism wasn’t brought into the game first. You would think horrifying acts in the name of survival would rate higher priority that horrifying acts for fun.

Day Z encourages cooperation, which is one good thing about the game, but the way in which is does this is also quite brutal on new players. Because you don’t necessarily get to spawn with your friends, or even anywhere near them or with any idea where they might be, a freshly spawned player character is not able to make use of any benefits of cooperation at first. Cooperation is reserved for those who have been alive long enough to find their friends, which will often mean finding weapons and equipment too. This makes one more element that plays against the new player, or the newly spawned one. To an extent this encourages social interaction, but any social interaction when you are unarmed is dangerous. Ironically, social interaction when you are armed is dangerous too, as many players won’t think twice about shooting somebody if they see they have a gun.

None of this means that Day Z is a bad game or that bad people play it, but we are seeing a battle for its soul. What the Day Z developers perhaps need to do is to think about what they want it to be remembered for, what they want it to bring to the history of gaming. Will Day Z be the first game that really nails unforgiving wilderness survival in a multiplayer open world, or will it be a game where creepy jerks congregated to enjoy third-rate sadistic jollies? Refusing to pander to those who want to add more cheesy nastiness to the game does not make it a casual or easier game, nor does it make it less of a challenge. The stakes of the game are high enough without adding long, drawn out humiliation to the price to be paid for getting caught by the enemy.

For all the technical issues and content that needs to be added to Day Z, perhaps the greatest challenge the developers face is getting the tone right. If they do manage this, then Day Z could be a truly revolutionary game; a hard-as-nails, dynamic and complicated adventure that breaks into the mainstream. If they get it wrong it’s just another great idea that never fulfilled its potential.

Phil Hartup is a freelance journalist with an interest in video gaming and culture

Photo: Getty
Show Hide image

That's the Way It Crumbles: Matthew Engel explores Americanisms

The author is especially vexed by the barbarous locution “wake-up call”.

Perhaps, with the ascension of Ruth Davidson to political superstardom and the glorification of Sir Walter Scott on current Scottish banknotes (south of the border, we’re going for Jane Austen on our tenners), we will all revisit Ivanhoe. The story, you’ll recall, is set during the reign of the Lionheart King, who is away on crusade business, killing Muslims by the thousand. Like the good Christian monarch he is.

Scott’s narrative has a prelude. A Saxon swineherd, Gurth, is sitting on a decayed Druid stone as his pigs root in the dirt. Along comes his mate Wamba, a jester. The two serfs chat. How is it, Gurth wonders, that “swine” when it reaches the high tables of their masters is “pork” (Fr porc); cow ­becomes “beef” (Fr boeuf); and sheep turns into “mutton” (Fr mouton)?

The reason, Wamba explains (no fool he), is 1066. Four generations have passed but the Normans are still running things. They have normanised English – and they eat high on the hog. How did pig become pork? In the same way as “minced beef sandwich”, in my day, became Big Mac.

Ivanhoe should be the Brexiteers’ bible. Its message is that throwing off the Norman Yoke is necessary before Britain can be Britain again. What’s the difference between Normandy and Europa? Just 900 or so years. Scott makes a larger point. Common language, closely examined, reflects where real power lies. More than that, it enforces that power – softly but subversively, often in ways we don’t notice. That’s what makes it dangerous.

We’ve thrown off the Norman Yoke – but it remains, faintly throbbing, in the archaeology of our language. Why do we call the place “parliament” and not “speak house”? Is Gordon Ramsay a chef or a cook? Do the words evoke different kinds of society?

Matthew Engel is a journalist at the end of four decades of deadline-driven, high-quality writing. He is now at that stage of life when one thinks about it all – in his case, the millions of words he has tapped out. What historical meaning was ingrained in those words? It is, he concludes, not the European Union but America that we should be fearful of.

The first half of his book is a survey of the historical ebbs and flows of national dialect across the Atlantic. In the 18th century the linguistic tide flowed west from the UK to the US. When the 20th century turned, it was the age of “Mid-Atlantic”. Now, it’s all one-way. We talk, think and probably dream American. It’s semantic colonialism. The blurb (manifestly written by Engel himself) makes the point succinctly:

Are we tired of being asked to take the elevator, sick of being offered fries and told about the latest movie? Yeah. Have we noticed the sly interpolation of Americanisms into our everyday speech? It’s a no-brainer.

One of the charms of this book is Engel hunting down his prey like a linguistic witchfinder-general. He is especially vexed by the barbarous locution “wake-up call”. The first use he finds is “in an ice hockey ­report in the New York Times in 1975”. Horribile dictu. “By the first four years of the 21st century the Guardian was reporting wake-up calls – some real, most metaphorical – two and a half times a week.” The Guardian! What more proof were needed that there is something rotten in the state of the English language?

Another bee in Engel’s bonnet is the compound “from the get-go”. He tracks it down to a 1958 Hank Mobley tune called “Git-Go Blues”. And where is that putrid locution now? Michael Gove, then Britain’s education secretary, used it in a 2010 interview on Radio 4. Unclean! Unclean!

Having completed his historical survey, and compiled a voluminous dictionary of Americanisms, Engel gets down to business. What does (Americanism alert!) the takeover mean?

Is it simply that we are scooping up loan words, as the English language always has done? We love Babel; revel in it. Ponder a recent headline in the online Independent: “Has Scandi-noir become too hygge for its own good?” The wonderful thing about the English language is its sponge-like ability to absorb, use and discard un-English verbiage and still be vitally itself. Or is this Americanisation what Orwell describes in Nineteen Eighty-Four as “Newspeak”? Totalitarian powers routinely control independent thinking – and resistance to their power – by programmatic impoverishment of language. Engel has come round to believing the latter. Big time.

In its last pages, the book gets mad as hell on the subject. Forget Europe. Britain, and young Britain in particular, has handed over “control of its culture and vocabulary to Washington, New York and Los Angeles”. It is, Engel argues, “self-imposed serfdom”:

A country that outsources the development of its language – the language it developed over hundreds of years – is a nation that has lost the will to live.

Britain in 2017AD is, to borrow an Americanism, “brainwashed”, and doesn’t know it or, worse, doesn’t care. How was American slavery enforced? Not only with the whip and chain but by taking away the slaves’ native language. It works.

Recall the front-page headlines of 9 June. “Theresa on ropes”, shouted the Daily Mail. She was “hung out to dry”, said the London Evening Standard. “Stormin’ Corbyn”, proclaimed the Metro. These are manifest Americanisms, from the metaphor “hanging out to dry” to the use of “Stormin’” – the epithet applied to Norman Schwarzkopf, the victorious US Gulf War commander of Operation Desert Storm.

These headlines on Theresa May’s failure fit the bill. Her campaign was framed, by others, as American presidential, not English prime ministerial. But the lady herself is pure Jane Austen: a vicar’s daughter whose naughtiest act was to run through a field of wheat. She simply couldn’t do the “hail to the chief” stuff. Boris, the bookies’ odds predict, will show her how that presidential “stuff” should be “strut”. He was, of course, born American.

Engel’s book, short-tempered but consistently witty, does a useful thing. It makes us listen to what is coming out of our mouths and think seriously about it. Have a nice day.

John Sutherland’s “How Good Is Your Grammar?” is published by Short Books

That’s the Way It Crumbles: the American Conquest of English
Matthew Engel
Profile Books, 279pp, £16.99

This article first appeared in the 22 June 2017 issue of the New Statesman, The zombie PM

0800 7318496