WALKIES AND TALKIES
While I haven’t finished my first playthrough of one Mario+Rabbids: Sparks of Hope, there is a major aspect of the game that stands out apart from gameplay and that is the cutscenes. Cinematically, they are fantastic. However, the biggest gripe I’ve had with the game has to do with usage of dialogue.
In the original Mario+Rabbids: Kingdom Battle, the only character dialogue outside of the usual Mario-esque sound effects of “Woo-Hoos” and “Yeah-Hahs” of Mario and the others comes from our player-controlled and Roomba-esque robotic guide: Beep-0. Oftentimes, his lines were humorous as well as informative, acting as the main character from which we explored the world of Mario+Rabbids. Beep-0 was our translator, explaining with whimsical observation the eccentricities of the invading Rabbids in the Mushroom Kingdom.
Fast-forward to the sequel and things have changed. Everything is bigger, shinier, a bit more fleshed out thanks to the success or the original. Now, instead of the adorable character grunts and groans sound effects, many characters are given voiced lines. These lines often take the form of runners, or a series of words that begin a line of dialogue before cutting off as the rest of the line appears on the screen in a dialogue box. This is a tactic that highlights certain words like characters and places or funny reactions, and it’s just to give characters “a little extra” characterization.
I do not think this works for a very specific reason.
Long ago, I enjoyed the LEGO videogames. Because of a lack of budget or what-have-you, characters in LEGO games (LEGO: Batman, LEGO: Star Wars, LEGO: Indiana Jones) did not have voiced lines. Instead, the game was portrayed through glorious silent acting with cartoonish stunts, pantomime, and comical sound effects. And it was marvelous! In an industry saturated with voice acting to drive plot and story forward, here was a series of games that did not need it. Fans knew the story of Star Wars and Indiana Jones, and even the unique telling of a Batman title was not lost on young fans who understood that bad guys were bad, and good guys were trying to stop them.
Voiced lines did not add to the complexity of the story.
Eventually, all the mainline LEGO titles inserted voiced lines of dialogue, changing the dynamic of what made those earlier games great. Instead of a pantomime, slap-stick driven version of pop culture movies and stories, there was cinema experiences with LEGO characters acting out all the parts.
The formula was inversed and, I’d argue, for the worse.
Unfortunately, the same propagation of voiced lines has begun to erode on the Mario+Rabbids series. If there are more titles in the future, I imagine that with the influence of the soon-to-be released Super Mario Movie that is monstrously dubbed over by Chris Pratt (yeah, not my Mario either) will do away with all sound effect grunts and “Woo-hoos” for voiced lines.
That is, until huge public outcry reverses the cinematic fantasies of Nintendo and the disillusionment that all characters must speak lines to appear more likeable. Then, things may revert to their original voiceless harmony.
I’ve enjoyed Mario+Rabbids: Sparks of Hope tremendously. The other parts of the game aside from creative voice direction makes for a wonderful world to get lost in. However, this one sticking point of “More is Better” with voiced lines of dialogue is not always the case.
Sometimes it changes the nature of what was charming and unique in the first place.
What do you think? Are voiced lines given to normally voiceless characters making for better gaming/movie experiences? As always, I love to read your thoughts in the comments below!
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BREADCRUMBS
I haven’t written about my ongoing college experience since it began. It’s wild to think I’ve sat through college lectures for ten weeks already. The last that I wrote, I had a tempestuous relationship with a professor who called me Bertie (and still does). My impression of this professor was that he was a performer, someone who spoke to the class like an actor reaching the nosebleeds at the Kennedy Center. He’s charismatic, melodramatic at times, and peculiar in a way that means his tastes for music and culture has not evolved over the past three decades.
I was critical of this professor because I thought he was a chauvinist.
Ten weeks into the semester, I find my initial reactions were true, but there was something else going on that I was unaware of. Strangely, I’ve found his classes are the ones I try hardest in.
In trying to pinpoint why, I think there are two important causes for this uptick in effort. The first is that this professor isn’t boring. Loud? Sure. Boisterous and erringly peculiar? Absolutely. But boring? Not in the slightest. This professor has hidden depths when it comes to the material, and even if his musings about how the novellas we’re critiquing in class often fall on ears too young to understand the ramifications of age and tragedy, it’s clear that he is trying to open up worlds that would be left unexplored.
So, yes, he is a beloved professor by just about all his students because of this charisma.
Perhaps most impressive about this professor is something he performs very technically during his lectures. Where most professors lecture with an air of superiority over students, this professor often stops his train of thought to ask a trivia-esque question. These questions can range from anything like, “Who was the philosopher who coined ‘I think, therefore I am’?” and, “What’s the name of Voldemort’s snake again?”. By doing this, the professor wakes up the class. Everyone is attentive, more involved, and voices speak up to answer the obtuse.
Why?
Breadcrumbs.
This professor is laying breadcrumbs so that we’ll all follow along. Inserting a batch of trivia questions every class that are loosely related to the lecture is like a quick game of sudoku or a New York Times Crossword—something to dust off those old neural pathways and bring up morale.
Not only is it a refreshing break in the pacing of a lecture (which are often monotonous and droning), but it feels good. He’s empowering his students. He’s allowing them to feel more confident so that they might answer the larger conceptual questions that are being asked.
Like a Pavlovian trained dog, I find myself salivating for these trivia questions every class. They’re fun, I feel like I’m smarter than I likely am by answering them, and everyone feels connected and heard trying to figure them out.
I’ve been pleasantly surprised after ten weeks with this professor. I’ve learned that even if my first impressions have remained correct in sizing him up, those impressions are not the totality of what is happening.
The more I attend classes, the more I enjoy seeing the 3-Dimensionality of this place. It’s something I didn’t notice a decade ago when I first took college courses.
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Wishing everyone as well as you can be. You’re not alone out there,
