By Valerie Valdes
This article contains minor Mass Effect series spoilers.
Wise muse, Calliope, lover of War,
Sing to me of your soldier, Shepard called,
Who some say came from earth, and some from space,
And some a far-flung colony of man.
Groomed as the human race’s first Spectre,
Shepard has straddled galaxies, set sail
Through all the seas of heaven in a ship
Named for a beach where soldiers flung their lives
Like dice against a wall of death, and won.
Say how this Shepard led the flock in search
Of Saren, traitor to the Council’s cause,
Who tried to light dark relays and assist
An exiled foe’s extinction-bent return.
Urania’s sister, smile on this, my song
In praise of paragon, or renegade,
Commander Shepard of the Normandy,
Savior of sentient life across the stars.
BioWare games are nothing if not epic–spanning kingdoms, worlds, or whole galaxies. Even side quests tend to be high stakes, life-or-death missions, while the main plot has you struggling to save everyone from nigh-inevitable catastrophic doom. The pressure! The weight resting on your well-sculpted shoulders! The lengthy mineral collection detours!
So how does a series like Mass Effect compare to the actual epics of our literary history? What qualities does it share and which are jettisoned into space?
The epics of yore started as oral poems; we call these primary or original epics, as opposed to ones that were written to be read rather than recited–those are secondary or literary epics. Mass Effect straddles an interesting line here because, of course, it’s meant to be played. This is arguably more similar to the primary epics, especially since a large part of the playing involves listening to voice actors the same way an audience would listen to an epic poet tell his story. At the same time, the amount of craft and editing involved in writing the games nudges it toward being considered more literary. Original epics had an element of spontaneity and flexibility that video games are hard pressed to match, at least in terms of the core plot and dialogue.
But as others have discussed, the Mass Effect series can yield a very different experience for each player based on choices made within each game, some of which carry over to later games. And primary epics, while somewhat malleable, nonetheless conformed to specific metrical requirements and mnemonic devices, as well as a fixed overarching plot; Troy wasn’t going to suddenly win the Trojan War, and Odysseus wasn’t going to say “Screw it!” and stay with Calypso on her fabulous island paradise. So it seems like Mass Effect, while definitely written and rewritten like a secondary epic, nonetheless creates an experience for the player that is more like a primary epic.
Like epics, the games begin in medias res , in the middle of the action. While Shepard, and the player, come to the plot in what feels like the beginning, there is a significant amount of back story that occurs before we ever set down on the first planet and find the mysterious Prothean beacon. Starting just as the feces hits the relay yields a sense of immediacy and urgency to the gameplay, and allows us to dive in and discover the past organically as it relates to the present. The sequels, naturally, have even more behind them in terms of plot, yet manage to feel like discrete stories even as they build on what came before.
Some definitions of in medias res would consider this “middle” to be the hero’s lowest point, meaning that he has dug himself a hole and is lying in it and must now claw his way out. At best you can stretch this to cover Shepard in the sense that you start out low-level and have to work your way up to the pinnacle of awesomeness, but overall this angle doesn’t seem to apply. The Iliad starts with the Greeks getting their shapely butts kicked because Achilles is pissed off and refuses to fight; he has to get past his anger so he can knock some heads and put them back on top. The Odyssey starts with Odysseus sitting on a beach, crying, after having wandered around for years trying to get home; we’ll see most of his story in flashback later, but in the meantime he’s moping around. These guys, unlike Shepard, have to get over themselves before they can make with the epicness. Shepard is the bright-eyed rookie compared to them.
Speaking of awesome, even when played as a renegade, Shepard is undoubtedly a heroic character who operates on a higher level than other humans. Epic heroes are typically royalty, which Shepard isn’t–though being the first human Spectre toes the line–but they also distinguish themselves in some way beyond mere titles. Achilles, Beowulf and others were unsurpassed fighters; Odysseus was known for his quick wit and stratagems; Aeneas was pious to a fault; and Jason… Well, he had really bad taste in women, I guess. At the beginning of the series, we are given three options for Shepard’s back story, each a tale of overcoming some trial and surviving where others didn’t. We then proceed to add to the legacy with every individual we help, every crisis we avert, every tough decision we make, and every new challenge we manage to live through. Not that even death stops Shepard, of course; every epic hero makes a stop at the underworld and comes back ready to bust some heads, and Shepard is no exception.
Epic heroes also tend to embody the morals and values of the society that produces them. In this, we have some leeway because the player gets to make certain decisions for Shepard. However, the makers of the game have predetermined which decisions are considered to be paragon or renegade–that is, conforming to positive norms or balking them in favor of a harsher system of ethics. Even the choice of Shepard’s back story in the first game affects this; choosing to be a spacer and a war hero starts you with 20 Paragon points, while opting to be Earthborn and ruthlessly efficient nets you 20 Renegade points. In general terms, being polite and complimentary rather than ruthless and blunt is the Paragon way, while sarcasm and shooting first are the province of the Renegade. The Paragon seems more willing to take chances if it means saving lives, and values individual freedom over potential risk; this is evidenced by the Paragon options when dealing with, for example, the Rachni or the genophage. The Renegade will “do what needs to be done,” apparently comfortable with killing if it means minimizing possible personal and societal danger. Although these are disparate perspectives, they nonetheless reflect present-day social values, which are by no means universal and static.
There are other epic conventions and qualities that have varying applicability to a modern video game. The series spans a vast setting, for example–much like the Odyssey or the Aeneid –but it’s hard to see how a game might be reasonably begun with some invocation to a muse. The epic cataloging of weapons and armor has its analogue in the gear manifestos and upgrades we navigate to keep Shepard strong and deadly, and each item even has its own detailed history, like Excalibur or Durendal. There are plenty of speeches to be found, but in a series about homicidal aliens, how much room is there really for divine intervention in anyone’s affairs? And do we really need pithy nicknames for Shepard, repeated ad nauseum as a mnemonic device? Not likely.
Still, given its similarities to epics that have survived the passing of millennia, it remains to be seen how well the Mass Effect series will stand the test of time. We’ll check back in about 50,000 years and let you know. Assuming the Reapers haven’t gotten to us, first.
