Ellipsis [el•lip•sis] (ĭ-lĭp’sĭs) noun, plural 1) The omission of a word or phrase necessary for a complete syntactical construction but not necessary for understanding; an example of such omission. 2) A mark or series of marks used in writing or printing to indicate an omission, especially of letters or words.

Let’s hear it for silence. Three cheers for a yawning gape of quiet followed by an awed hush for noiselessness. Today we salute that stalwart of screen success, that soundless sensation: The Silent Protagonist.

Voiceless heroes are nothing new; they have been around since the early days of gaming. They just had nothing to say. I believe wholeheartedly that the guy or girl inside the ship in Gradius has the ability to communicate verbally, but what is he going to say beyond “Oh my God, I’m gonna die” over and over again as he/she flies into the face of an armada of enemy warships. We know now that Pac-Man can talk, but back in the day there was no reason to. Who was he going to talk to? The ghosts? He’s not Haley Joel, and besides, they were trying to kill him!

It wasn’t until rise in popularity of RPGs that The Silent Protagonist really made his voice heard, so to speak. What brought this trait to near universal utilization in the video game world? Was the use of The Silent Protagonist both then and now for psychological, practical or profitable reasons? Or it was a combination of all three?

You are the hero. In my anything but humble opinion, that’s what makes Interactive Entertainment better than movies, TV, books, skywriting or radio. You are not passively observing someone else making the decisions and having all the fun. You are the one doing that through your electronic Avatar. You fight or run, you live or you die (then you reload). Its immersion and it’s unique to our medium.

However, in an RPG featuring a Silent Protagonist the NPCs talk around you, filling in the blanks of the conversation, making leading comments drawing you though the story as if you really had a choice in the matter. The input in from our hero is typically limited to the infamous ellipsis or some kind of pantomime. In this way The Silent Protagonist has a voice: yours. It’s just that no one can hear you and even though you are the hero, it wouldn’t matter if they could.

The appearance of choice however is still better then no choice at all and it allows you to engage in the kind of immersion that as I stated makes our medium unique, and it also makes it easier. If The Silent Protagonist could speak with your voice he would do so at length. Questions would abound, every NPC would be subject to an interrogation limited to only by the player’s imagination. To have a hero truly speak with the player’s voice would be a tremendous burden on the programmers and greatly harm the quality of the game. To create an experience featuring a super-verbose protagonist would be to invite disaster. Basically, if you want endless chatter, play an MMO.

Technology has now led us to an age where our Avatars can speak with their own voices, for good or ill. For years now game dialog can be recorded in studios to bring virtual worlds to a greater degree of life. The protagonist needn’t now be silent, but has what we’ve gained greater then what we’ve lost?

Let’s make a comparison using two of Final Fantasy’s spiky haired leads. Cloud, the quiet one. A special forces washout turned mercenary with some serious delusions of grandeur. Tidus, the talker. A underwater water-polo jock turned whining warrior. Two strikingly similar people. Two fighters dragooned into saving a world that they either don’t care or don’t know about. Long journeys, Ill fated romances, loyal comrades in arms, tiny cactus people and ultimately: a costly victory. But only one is continually regarded as being among the greatest videogame characters of all time. Why? Because he is a Silent Protagonist. He is you.

Game technology is evolving at a pleasing rate, but the retention of The Silent Protagonist as a storytelling tool is vital to its perpetuation. We must keep watch, for someday we might let our technology create such a beautiful and expansive world that there is no room for us in it.

This is my stop.

Comments?  Questions?  E-mail me at seth410@gamertransit.com.  Complaints?  “…” (You had to know that was coming)

Back of the Bus is © 2006 by Seth “4:10” Robison, used with exclusive permission by gamertransit.com.  Reproduction without permission is prohibited.