
Introduction:
Metal Gear Solid 4: Guns of the Patriots belongs to a singular franchise of video games. Identified as the birth of the stealth strain of the action game genre, like all other franchises, it came from humble beginnings. As it stands, however, the Metal Gear franchise is one of the most widely followed and influential–not to mention lucrative–collections of games. That alone does not make it remarkable. Instead, that only reflects how noticeably different these games are, and how they have attracted the attention of the world not by being lightweight, or “fun” in the strictest sense, or straightforward, but by daring to take bold risks and implementing radical innovations in the formula, particularly in the current subject.
This willingness to risk itself and attempt to be more is part of the ambitions and–admittedly–the obsessions, positive and negative, of its creator. Hideo Kojima is almost unique in mainstream games in that he singlehandedly writes, directs, and exerts exclusive creative control over the whole of the work. While his persona exudes cool and calmness, his work is shivering with melodramatic dialogue, frenetic action, and odds escalated to such heights the gods of Olympus might pause before going all-in. Most obvious in his games is his fascination with Hollywood movies, particularly the classic spaghetti Westerns of mid-20th century. Clint Eastwood’s characters in any of his films would likely feel right at home as one of Snake’s cohorts, sheen of modern technology and flash notwithstanding.
Romance, shootouts, lengthy, talky stand-offs before said shootouts. All of it is here and more. Kojima merges these American influences with an overall visual style and splash that is purely Japanese. In Metal Gear Solid 4: Guns of the Patriots, these two methods, worlds apart, are amalgamated into a potent combination, dealing bombastic, overblown action and dense plotting rarely seen in this medium. It is for that reason that I am mesmerized by the cutscenes, without even having to stifle the potential laughs to be had from them.
Plot:
“Convoluted” is generally a term that carries a negative connotation when applied to plots. To apply this adjective to MGS4 is a gross understatement. Tangled and jumbled, confused and often downright bizarre, the plot–the current chaotic state of which is largely due to its predecessor MGS2–is forced to enrol in gymnastics. Writhing, twisting, and squeezing desperately, trying to reach comprehension, the story is largely silly and overblown, not to mention so top-heavy with exposition you fear the game will crash because the script takes up too much space. Nonetheless, no matter how complicated the path it took to get to where it ends up, it ends up in being totally satisfying. I would not even consider the satisfaction and entertainment I glean from it to be guilty pleasure. To the contrary, I attribute the entertainment to the sheer joy of seeing this dense beast of a plot careen dangerously out of control–only to save itself by reaching into that place occupied in music by the bands Queen and Muse. Bombast. Pompous, self-important speeches, when delivered as they are in this game, are compelling. It may be the shroud of the fantastic production values covering my eyes, but I think that there is merit to this type of story. However, it would not be so if not for the cracks in the dour, serious, even solemn face the game assumes for itself.
In-jokes, visual gags and monkeys smoking cigarettes and drinking cola (and later belching with gusto) show you that, despite how pretentious and silly it can be, the game ultimately has a healthy and redeeming sense of humour about itself. These “windows” of comic craziness, which often break the fourth wall, have led me to believe that the entire enterprise is an oblique satire. Satire is delicate and difficult at the best of times. One would think that, saddled to such a crazy, speeding train of a game, it would collapse on top of itself. Yet all the hot air coming from the mountains of dialogue must be inflating it to the extent that it can survive.
Interactivity and Narrative:
Games today strive to become more and more immersive and engross you into the world they present. MGS4 goes about this as well, and in a way that is not often taken. Contrasted with the completely seamless sublimation of narrative into interactivity found in the Half-Life series, where you are firmly fixed in the viewpoint of a silent protagonist, this is a game that frequently tears you away from the controls and lets the story play out. Detractors often decry this technique–heavy on talking and cutscenes–as detrimental to the value of the game. Devoted fans point out that these cutscenes are among the best in the industry (at least some of them) and that the interactive portions are so strong that they mask any flaws.
My own views fall, predictably, between the two extremes. My sympathies lie closer to the latter, as I believe that, in its feverish quest to become a Hollywood movie, MGS4 surpasses most action fare to be found at the local box office. It owes huge debts to Asian cinema, no doubt, as well as Western movies. Nevertheless, the staging of these sequences is perfect. Observe, for instance, a dramatic fight scene in the South American chapter of the game between Raiden and Vamp. Both characters engage in close-quarters combat that is fluid and exciting, with its back-and-forth repartee and dancelike aesthetic. This is the “movie in the game” at its best.
Unfortunately, you also have scenes that drag on and on as characters pontificate and exposit needless minutiae and details–many of which are of interest to longtime fans who keep their Encyclopedia Kojima close to their persons at all times and recognize the spiderweb of character connections and dense plot developments with some clarity. I am not one of those people, at least I was not on my first experience. Having done considerable research into the mythology of this alternate-reality history series, I now appreciate the ten minute monologues at least to the point of tolerance. Truly, these character do have much to say.
Characters:
Some of the most memorable and well-developed characters in gaming can be found here. Many, if not most, are either adored by fans or recognized as significant. Others, such as the unjustly despised Raiden are not given such preferential treatment. None of the characters are any more or less ridiculous than any other, though some are certainly more entertaining than others. Snake is given most of the shining moments, including that fantastic scene in the Corridor near the end that was emotionally draining just to watch. Here the interactive, close relationship that you have with Snake is truly used to the fullest extent. The pacing is perfect. Any slower, it would be a drag on your patience. Any faster and the moment would have been burned into your mind with far less intensity. Supporting players are primarily there for Snake’s benefit, as he is the centre of their plans to save the world. As such, the other characters might have been sidelined, seeing as you never control any other characters–at least directly. However, the expansive nature of the cutscenes, as well as their sheer number, allows other people in the story to get their due, particularly Raiden.
Raiden is the most interesting character in the game. Snake has far less of a personality, being more a blank, if gruff, slate for you to control and judge for yourself. Most of Snake’s dialogue is actually reactionary or responsive. This got irritating at certain times. Raiden, however, truly takes on a completely different persona from previous games. He literally slips into completely new skin, with fashionably action-packed results. Inappropriate heeled shoes aside, Raiden’s presence never failed to light up a scene, even if the scene was not particularly memorable. Voiced with the same gruffness as nearly every other male character in the game, there is a new determination and even a touch of sadness to the character that was not present in MGS2. Kojima obviously recognized the potential of the character, and I’m glad he stuck to Raiden instead of giving up in the face of so much harsh vitriol lobbed at the character after his PS2 debut.
On the opposite side of the war (though it’s not quite as simple as that) we have Ocelot, whom we find out has been assuming Liquid Snake’ persona in an attempt to fulfill his anti-Patriot ambitions. The most remarkable thing about the game was that, though the final battle was indeed against Snake’s oldest enemy, it came after the main plot had been wrapped up. This centred the focus clearly on the plot to destroy and save the world first, and on personal vendettas second. It also crystallized the notion that Ocelot was not truly opposed to Snake, but on something resembling the same side. Ocelot, after all, allowed Snake to complete the mission without personally interfering. Of course, even if Snake had failed, he still could have finished the job himself, which is what makes his character so fascinating in the end.
The overarching theme throughout the entire experience was the notion of control. Characters are often thrust into situations over which they have no control, or merely possess the illusion of control. Sons of the Patriots allows Liquid Ocelot to manipulate the actions of entire armies and wrest power away from its established keepers. However, he is a person who is under complete control of another personality that he manufactured for himself as part of a larger scheme that holds sway over his actions. Snake, too, is not a character who dictates his own path. The player, in fact, is the one who controls the entire outcome. The multitude of paths and ability to approach situations with a freedom heretofore unheard of in the franchise further reflects this. Even when Snake is the one actually performing the actions of the battlefield, you are the one directing it. Thus, more than anything, the game is self-reflective, an ongoing comment on itself, its own narrative and stylistic excess, and the notion that the entire game world was not only fabricated under the intense scrutiny of a famously perfectionist game designer, but also evolving under the eyes and through the fingers of the one playing it.
Conclusion:
Metal Gear Solid 4: Guns of the Patriots, while not containing the requisite amount of symbolism and overt political commentary (though there is still plenty of both) typical of a Metal Gear game, contains a world of depth all its own, being entirely self-aware and ultimately engaging the player on many emotional tracks. Moments of adolescence and utter insanity aside, this is a thoughtful and well-considered work that is both an immense enjoyment to play and a fascinating puzzle to unravel.