I always love a good anti-video game knee-jerk reaction, as when a couple of months ago a talking head on Fox News made the ridiculous claim that Edmonton-based BioWare’s critically lauded role-playing game Mass Effect was tantamount to digital pornography due to a single, relatively brief (and, it must be said, rather tasteful) scene late in the game in which two lead characters consummate their relationship.
A similar occurrence happened back in 2006 prior to the release of Bully for PlayStation 2, which was made by Rockstar, the same company responsible for the infamous Grand Theft Auto games. Right-wing video game violence activists—most notably Florida-based lawyer Jack Thompson—suggested that the Teen-rated high school simulation game glorified youth violence.
Of course, anyone who actually took the time to play the game quickly came to realize that the violence was restricted to slingshot high jinks, tossed trashcan lids, and old fashioned schoolyard fisticuffs. It was all quite cartoonish; no serious injuries, no deaths, no guns, no bombs. Yes, the player’s character could get into plenty of mischief—pulling fire alarms and throwing firecrackers—and even become a bully himself, but there were consequences for misbehaviour, and the game generally steered players toward a reasonably moral path.
An updated version of Bully for Wii and Xbox 360 called Bully: Scholarship Edition landed on my doorstep yesterday. It’s essentially a director’s cut of its predecessor, offering a handful of exclusive missions, some new mini-games, and improved graphics for the Xbox 360 edition.
Predictably, the game's return has reignited flames under the derrieres of quite a few people, most notably a coalition of teachers from countries around the world.
It makes me sad. As I revisited Bully I was struck again by its cleverness. It’s a dark comedy; a game that puts a humorous twist on the social, psychological, and physical misfortunes faced by a high school outcast. But between laughs I found that there was something movingly authentic about our hero. He comes from a broken family, isn’t given a chance by the faculty due to his bad reputation, and is immediately picked on by many of the kids at his new school. Indeed, it seems to me that, more than the majority of games I play, Bully actually has something important to say: Namely, that high school can be a seriously crappy time for kids who don’t fit in.
What’s more, it might even be a beneficial experience for some players. I can imagine Bully providing a bit of welcome catharsis to kids plagued by real bullies in their real lives as they make the game’s young hero into a champion for misfit students, protecting them from being victimized by the school’s crueller elements.
Of course, these points will be lost on those protesting the game's release. Perhaps these activists didn’t suffer the role of outcast when they were in school. If they had, they might see that Bully isn’t a cause of school violence (the game's story actually illustrates what many of the real causes are), but rather a means by which some kids might be able to cope with it.
