Women in Classical Video Games 9781350241916, 9781350241954, 9781350241930

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WOMEN IN CLASSICAL VIDEO GAMES

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Imagines – Classical Receptions in the Visual and Performing Arts Series Editors: Filippo Carlà-Uhink and Martin Lindner

Other titles in this series Ancient Greece and Rome in Videogames: Representation, Play, Transmedia by Ross Clare Ancient Violence in the Modern Imagination: The Fear and the Fury edited by Irene Berti, Maria G. Castello and Carla Scilabra Art Nouveau and the Classical Tradition by Richard Warren Classical Antiquity in Heavy Metal Music edited by K. F. B. Fletcher and Osman Umurhan Classical Antiquity in Video Games edited by Christian Rollinger Geographies of Myth and Places of Identity: The Strait of Scylla and Charybdis in the Modern Imagination by Marco Benoît Carbone A Homeric Catalogue of Shapes by Charlayn von Solms Orientalism and the Reception of Powerful Women from the Ancient World edited by Filippo Carlà-Uhink and Anja Wieber Representations of Classical Greece in Theme Parks by Filippo Carlà-Uhink Screening Love and War in Troy: Fall of a City edited by Antony Augoustakis and Monica S. Cyrino The Ancient Mediterranean Sea in Modern Visual and Performing Arts edited by Rosario Rovira Guardiola The Smells and Senses of Antiquity in the Modern Imagination edited by Adeline Grand-Clément and Charlotte Ribeyrol

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WOMEN IN CLASSICAL VIDEO GAMES

Edited by Jane Draycott and Kate Cook

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BLOOMSBURY ACADEMIC Bloomsbury Publishing Plc 50 Bedford Square, London, WC1B 3DP, UK 1385 Broadway, New York, NY 10018, USA 29 Earlsfort Terrace, Dublin 2, Ireland BLOOMSBURY, BLOOMSBURY ACADEMIC and the Diana logo are trademarks of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc First published in Great Britain 2022 Copyright © Jane Draycott, Kate Cook & Contributors, 2022 Jane Draycott and Kate Cook have asserted their right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as Editors of this work Series cover design: Clare Turner Logo design: Ainize González and Nacho García Cover image from the Total War game series www.totalwar.com. © The Creative Assembly / SEGA All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage or retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publishers. Bloomsbury Publishing Plc does not have any control over, or responsibility for, any third-party websites referred to or in this book. All internet addresses given in this book were correct at the time of going to press. The author and publisher regret any inconvenience caused if addresses have changed or sites have ceased to exist, but can accept no responsibility for any such changes. A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library. A catalog record for this book is available from the Library of Congress. ISBN: HB: 978-1-3502-4191-6 ePDF: 978-1-3502-4193-0 eBook: 978-1-3502-4194-7 Series: IMAGINES – Classical Receptions in the Visual and Performing Arts Typeset by RefineCatch Limited, Bungay, Suffolk To find out more about our authors and books visit www.bloomsbury.com and sign up for our newsletters.

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CONTENTS

List of Illustrations List of Contributors Introduction Kate Cook and Jane Draycott

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Part I Commencing Classical Gaming 1 2 3

Playable Girls in Ancient Worlds: Athena (1986) Opens the Door Dunstan Lowe

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A Historical Analysis of Women in Video Games Based on Classical Antiquity Jordy D. Orellana Figueroa

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Dangerous Defaults: Demographics and Identities within and without Video Games Marcie Gwen Persyn

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Part II Gods, Heroines and Monsters 4 5 6

The Maiden, the Mother and the Monster: The Monstrous-Feminine in Classical Video Games Dan Goad

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Bringing Down the Divine Patriarchy Through Deicide in Apotheon (2015) Amy L. Norgard

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Argonautic Women? Gender and Heroic Status in Rise of the Argonauts Sophie Ngan

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Good Riddance: Refiguring Eurydice in Supergiant’s Hades Kira Jones

103

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Reception and Representation of Graeco-Roman Goddesses in Smite: Battleground of the Gods Katherine Beydler

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Opening Pandora’s Box: Aphrodite as the Representation of Women’s Sexuality in God of War III Olivia Ciaccia

128

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Part III Queens and Commoners 10 Women and Violence in Ancient Mediterranean Video Games Hannah-Marie Chidwick

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11 Playing Cleopatra in Assassin’s Creed: Origins Jane Draycott

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Contents

12 Playing Salammbô: Orientalism, Gender and Gaming with the Punic World Andrew Dufton

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13 Kassandra’s Odyssey Richard Cole

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14 ‘We do what we must to survive’: Female Sex Workers in Assassin’s Creed: Odyssey Roz Tuplin

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15 ‘It’s the most freedom a woman can have’: Gender, Genre and Agency in Choices: A Courtesan of Rome Kate Cook

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Bibliography Index

237 269

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ILLUSTRATIONS

Figures 0.1 1.1 1.2 2.1 3.1 3.2 4.1 4.2 5.1 5.2 6.1 6.2 7.1 9.1 9.2 11.1 11.2 12.1 12.2 13.1

13.2

Screenshot from A Total War Saga: Troy showing Penthesilea’s Amazon faction on the game-loading screen Screenshot of Princess Athena as a new game begins in Athena (1986) Asamiya’s Neo Max move in King of Fighters XIII (2010) Yearly breakdown of (a) Video game titles indicating historicity issues, and (b) Details of the portrayal of women In a beguiling illusion, Kratos is nearly seduced and entrapped by the Furies Nikandreos’ confrontation of Ophion the Tyrant Screenshot from God of War II Screenshot from Kid Icarus: Uprising Hera (r.) offers to help Nikandreos (l.) (2015). © Alientrap Games Inc. Artemis (r.) hunts Nikandreos as a vulnerable stag (l.) (2015). © Alientrap Games Inc. Female characters from RotA (l.–r.: Alceme, Atalanta, Medea, Medusa). © Liquid Entertainment. © Codemasters Male characters from RotA (l.–r.: Jason, Hercules, Argos, Pan, Achilles). © Liquid Entertainment. © Codemasters Eurydice and Orpheus from Supergiant’s Hades, 2018. Art by Jen Zee. Courtesy of Supergiant Games, LLC Screenshot from God of War III. Image courtesy of Olivia Ciaccia Screenshot from God of War III. Image courtesy of Olivia Ciaccia Screenshot from Assassin’s Creed: Origins Screenshot from Assassin’s Creed: Origins An initial meeting with Dido in Civilization VI The first appearance of the titular character in Salammbô: Battle for Carthage Combat sequence from the ‘Launch Trailer’ for Assassin’s Creed: Odyssey © Ubisoft Quebec/Ubisoft, 2018. Here, Leonidas is fighting the Persians while Myrrine draws comparisons between Leonidas and Alexios Opening sequence from the ‘Power of Choice’ trailer for Assassin’s Creed: Odyssey © Ubisoft Quebec/Ubisoft, 2018. Note the contrast from the aesthetics of the launch trailer

3 19 24 38 49 51 65 68 82 83 93 94 106 129 139 166 170 175 185

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195

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Illustrations

15.1 Purchasing outfits or additional scenes. Screenshot from Choices: A Courtesan of Rome 15.2 The freedom of a courtesan? Screenshot from Choices: A Courtesan of Rome

225 228

Tables 2.1 3.1 3.2 3.3 6.1 6.2

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List of variables used for the summary quantitative analysis Video game development information Statistics of character gender identities in first hour of play Statistics of English voice cast credits Table of NPCs by location found Table of NPCs by function

35 46 47 48 91 91

CONTRIBUTORS

Katherine Beydler is Assistant Director at the University of Iowa Center for Teaching and Lecturer in Classics at Cornell College, USA. She holds a PhD in Classical Studies and MA in Classical Archaeology from the University of Michigan. Her research interests include ancient agriculture and medicine and pedagogical methods in Classics, particularly assessment and course design. Dr Hannah-Marie Chidwick is Lecturer in Classics and Ancient History at the University of Bristol, UK. Her research interest is war. She works across Roman history and literature, and also War Studies, exploring different methodological approaches to narratives of war and violence. Her interdisciplinary work also informs outreach projects designed to enrich the way in which ancient warfare is studied in higher and further education. She is currently developing her PhD thesis on Lucan’s Civil War for publication, and is editing a collected volume, The Body of the Combatant in the Ancient Mediterranean. Olivia Ciaccia is a doctoral candidate at the University of Bristol, UK, researching how British and American Goddess Spirituality revives ancient Mediterranean and Egyptian goddesses in the twenty-first century. She has Bachelor’s and Master’s degrees in Egyptology from Swansea University and has a forthcoming article for the Pomegranate: International Journal of Pagan Studies, entitled: ‘Seeking Sekhmet: The Veneration of Sekhmet Statues in Contemporary Museums’. Richard Cole is Research Associate in Ancient Greek History and Virtual Reality at the University of Bristol, UK. His published work includes the chapter, ‘Unboxing AGE OF EMPIRES: Paratexts and the Experience of Historical Strategy Games’ (2021) for Paratextualizing Games: Investigations on the Paraphernalia and Peripheries of Play, edited by G. S. Freyermuth, B. Beil and H. C. Schmidt, the specialist feature ‘Time Loops and Ethics in the Total War Series’ (2021) for the Historical Games Network, and the article ‘Breaking the Frame in Historical Fiction’ (2020) for the journal Rethinking History. Kate Cook is (at the time of writing) Teaching Fellow in Classics at Durham University, UK. Her research interests include gender and language in Greek tragedy, and the reception of ancient women. She has forthcoming works on Praise and Blame in Greek Tragedy and Women in Greek Tragedy, and has published chapters in Ancient Memory (2021) and Women and Objects (2022). She has been a regular guest on the History Respawned podcast to discuss the reception of the Greek world and its myths in video games. Jane Draycott is a Roman historian and archaeologist. She investigates science, technology and medicine in the ancient world, and is particularly interested in the ix

Contributors

history and archaeology of medicine; impairment, disability and prostheses; and botany and horticulture. Recently, she has begun exploring the use (and abuse) of history and archaeology in video games, particularly those set in classical antiquity. She is currently Lecturer in Ancient History at the University of Glasgow and Co-Director of the University of Glasgow’s Games and Gaming Lab. She has discussed aspects of her research on television, in vidcasts and in podcasts. Andrew Dufton is an Assistant Professor of Archaeology at Dickinson College, USA. He received his PhD in Archaeology and the Ancient World from the Joukowsky Institute at Brown University, Providence, Rhode Island, USA. His research asks questions of how cities – ancient and modern – shape the daily experiences of their inhabitants, with a particular focus on the long-term dynamics of urban change in North Africa. He also considers the reception of North African antiquity in the politics and pop culture of the twentieth and twenty-first centuries. Recent publications include, ‘The Architectural and Social Dynamics of Gentrification in Roman North Africa’ in the American Journal of Archaeology, and the co-edited special issue Archaeology in the Age of Big Data, Journal of Field Archaeology. Dan Goad is an independent academic based in the UK. He recently received his doctorate in Classics from Royal Holloway, University of London, with a thesis on the performance reception of Aristophanes’ Frogs. His current research interests lie in the reception of the classical world within popular culture, in particular film, television and video games. Dan is also a freelance video game journalist, with bylines at WhatCulture, The Digital Fix, The Daily Star and The Gamer. Kira Jones is a classicist and art historian based in Atlanta, Georgia, USA. An avid gamer and consumer of pop culture, she specializes in reception of the ancient world in new media as well as Flavian Rome, use of myth and religion in Imperial Roman propaganda and Roman self-representation. Her recent work includes consulting on various media productions, such as the 2021 film Red Notice and 2020 film The Conjuring 3, guesting on podcasts and publishing on reception in video games. She currently works as the data manager for The Letters of Samuel Beckett Project and teaches at Emory University and Agnes Scott College. Dunstan Lowe is Senior Lecturer in Latin Literature at the University of Kent, UK. He co-edited, with Kim Shahabudin, Classics for All: Reworking Antiquity in Mass Culture (2009). His other publications include articles on ancient world digital games and a book called Monsters and Monstrosity in Augustan Poetry (2015). Sophie Ngan is currently a PhD student at Durham University, UK. Her doctoral project explores gender construction in Seneca’s dramatic and philosophical writings. More widely, her research interests include Latin literature, Roman philosophy, and gender and sexuality. She has previously published on Senecan tragedy, ‘Bound to Break Boundaries: Memory and Identity in Seneca’s Medea’ (2021). She has a forthcoming chapter in Brill’s Companion to Musonius Rufus.

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Contributors

Amy L. Norgard is Associate Professor of Classics at Truman State University, Missouri, USA. Amy has previously published about ritual exchange in the edited volume Screening Love and War in Troy: Fall of a City. Her other research interests include Roman satire, the body and senses in Latin literature, and modern receptions of classical antiquity, particularly through horror film. Amy regularly practices incorporating service-learning opportunities in classics pedagogy and has spoken extensively on that topic. Jordy D. Orellana Figueroa is a research associate at the University of Tübingen in Germany whose research interests include Ancient Near Eastern history and archaeology, as well as the reception of the ancient and prehistoric world in modern entertainment media, and especially video games. In addition, his other work has also involved the intersection of computing and historical sciences, applying machine learning methods to prehistoric archaeological research. Marcie Gwen Persyn received her PhD in Classical Studies from the University of Pennsylvania, and currently holds the position of Lecturer at the University of Pittsburgh in the Department of Classics, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, USA. She typically examines fragments, analysing cultural, literary and linguistic exchanges evident within Roman literature of the late Republic; her other publications include: ‘Lucilius Philosophos? Manipulation of Greek Philosophy in the Early Roman Satires’ in Classical Outlook and ‘ “Which the Greeks Call . . .”: The Rhetoric of Code-Switching in De Architectura 3.1.’, in Classical World (forthcoming). Roz Tuplin is a freelance games writer and journalist, currently working with Jagex Games, and is an independent scholar with research interests around popular culture, game narratives, short fiction, gender and class. She helped establish the London Games Festival in 2016 and coordinated the Games London cultural programme, working with developers and artists from around the world to showcase new approaches to game design. In 2019, she was named one of 100 influential women in UK games. She has previously published, ‘ “A Fairly Unclouded Life”: Upper-Class Masculinity in Crisis in the Early Jeeves and Wooster’, in Middlebrow Wodehouse: PG Wodehouse’s Work in Context (2016).

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INTRODUCTION Kate Cook and Jane Draycott

Popular works which rewrite, represent and retransmit classical material (classical receptions) may be the first and fullest impression of the ancient world many people get, particularly given the decreasing numbers of schools teaching classical subjects or languages in the United Kingdom and other Anglophone countries.1 As one of the largest media industries in the world, video games draw a particularly wide audience of players and offer them the opportunity to explore and engage with classical myths and ancient civilizations. In recent years, there has also been a notable increase in the number of classically themed video games released, some of which have been particularly high profile or award-winning.2 Yet, while video games have many benefits when it comes to introducing audiences to the ancient world, there is a particular set of questions arising in this arena when it comes to the representation of a major part of that world: women.3 In many spheres of popular culture, classical reception has served as a vehicle for the excavation and restoration of women’s voices and perspectives, particularly in recent years.4 Novels,5 plays6 and TV series7 have all centred the female experience of the ancient world or of ancient myth and literature, often to popular acclaim. Yet, this inclusive attitude has not always made its way into video gaming. Commonly, the industry itself has made video games a hostile environment to women both as individuals playing or working on games, and as characters represented within those games. At the same time, in the case of games set in the ancient world or influenced by ancient myth, a further element is added into the equation in the form of claims to historical ‘accuracy’ or ‘authenticity’, marshalled not only on the side of those who would rather see more female characters in classical video games, but also on the side of those who would prefer fewer.8 This volume sets out to explore this tension by examining the roles and representations of women in classical video games as the situation stands so far. The video games industry is one of the fastest-growing industries in the world, in 2020 making more money than other major entertainment industries, including both the sporting and film industries.9 The recent Covid-19 pandemic has further emphasized the importance of video gaming as a social, cultural and educational tool.10 At the same time, the ‘typical’ demographic of gamers is shifting. Women make up half of all gamers, with female participation in gaming increasing with age.11 In 2021, Sony revealed that owners of PlayStation consoles had gone from 18 per cent female owners of the PlayStation 1, to 41 per cent female owners of the PlayStations 4 and 5.12 In 2019, Nintendo were already reporting a 50/50 gender split in ownership of the Switch.13 Yet, the position of women both as characters within games and as players and developers has been a topic of much discussion and considerable contention in recent years. In the 1

Women in Classical Video Games

years 2017–21, only 20.8 per cent of games released featured a female protagonist.14 Studies have demonstrated that female characters are similarly under-represented as secondary characters within video games.15 Even where female characters do appear within games, their portrayals are often limited to stereotypes and tropes, many of which are sexist in nature,16 as explored by the ‘Tropes vs Women in Video Games’ project by Anita Sarkeesian, which itself faced enormous amounts of resistance from ‘gamers’,17 culminating in extensive abuse being directed against Sarkeesian.18 These limitations are often connected to the problems of representation within the industry itself:19 a study at the University of Sheffield in 2019 found that 70 per cent of game developers in the UK games industry were male,20 and currently worldwide, 76 per cent of developers are male.21 Recent work has also pointed to the significant problems of sexism and harassment which serve as barriers for women entering the industry.22 Awareness of these issues, as well as the problem of representation itself, however, are clearly growing. Developers and players have talked more openly about the presentation of female characters in popular genres such as role-playing games (RPGs),23 and the Gamergate conflict and responses to it have brought issues of representation and inclusion to the forefront of gaming culture.24 In the academic field of Games Studies, the work of scholars such as Adrienne Shaw, Shira Chess and Amanda Cote is exploring sexism in the industry and its games, and arguing for ways in which a more feminist gaming practice, both by players and by developers, could be progressed.25 However, although the games industry is changing, and despite the ongoing trend towards feminist or female-positive works of classical reception, the representation of women in classical video games remains problematic. Alongside these contextual, industry-wide challenges for gender representation in video games, there is an additional tension visible when it comes to video games with historical settings, including those set in the ancient world or in Greek or Roman mythological settings.26 As with other works of reception, such as films, while some degree of accuracy or authenticity may be desirable for video games which aim at historical settings, characters or gameplay, this desire must constantly be balanced with the need to make a game which is enjoyable to play, and which develops a particular narrative.27 At the same time, the interactive aspects of the game experience mean that the player’s input often leads to games which present ‘counterfactual’ histories, or in which the player’s priority is winning the game rather than how far their own experience maps on to historical ‘facts’.28 In these contexts, players also often have their own expectations of what historical authenticity will look like, which adds an additional layer of expectation on to the game.29 These expectations often function in a way that requires a game to conform to a particular narrative of history, despite the fact that such narratives are themselves subjective, selective or partly fictional.30 In the case of classical video games, the use of mythological settings, stories and characters further muddies the waters, since audiences may expect representation of a ‘truth’ or even the ‘correct myth’ which cannot be reasonably identified, given the prevalence of different versions within extant texts, the loss of other ‘fixed’ versions which can only be inferred from references elsewhere, and the influence which popular ancient reworkings themselves had on myths and the establishment of a ‘canonical’ version.31 2

Introduction

Developers may even promise the same, further feeding these expectations; for example, the narrative director of Ubisoft’s 2020 Immortals: Fenyx Rising described the game’s representation of mythology as ‘very, very accurate’, despite immediately acknowledging that the main story was based on the lost Titanomachy, thus on a poem which the developers and audiences could not be using to make decisions about accuracy.32 The introduction of Amazons into A Total War Saga: Troy as the first downloadable content (DLC) for the game in 2020 presents a telling example of how these expectations may impact upon the representation of women, even when it is a positive desire on the part of game developers. The announcement that Amazons were joining the game was met with dismay and outrage from some players. A Total War Saga: Troy is based on the story of the Trojan War from Greek Epic, and so the mix of mythical and historical elements was already a challenge, with the designers deciding to ‘rationalise’ some elements such as mythical units (who become primarily humans with particular skills and costume) and the gods (who do not appear as characters, but can give bonuses in exchange for religious rituals).33 Yet, although the game aims towards some of these rationalizing or euhemeristic elements, it is not set in a realistic historical period (unlike other games in the series, such as Rome: Total War, 2004, or Napoleon: Total War, 2010), and, in particular, the Homeric and thus poetic influences on the game are made explicit throughout. The tutorial narrator and narrator for the setup of each faction within the game is Homer ‘himself ’,34 and quotes from the Iliad appear on loading scenes throughout the game. This epic setting makes the introduction of Amazons, particularly those led by Penthesilea (seen here in Figure 0.1),35 entirely apt; Amazons are referred to in the Iliad itself (2.814, 3.189, 6.186),36 and the arrival of Penthesilea bridges the transition into the Aethiopis, another,

Figure 0.1 Screenshot from A Total War Saga: Troy showing Penthesilea’s Amazon faction on the game-loading screen.

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Women in Classical Video Games

no longer extant, poem in the epic cycle,37 conceived as a continuation of the Iliad.38 Penthesilea’s description in the Aethiopis as a ‘daughter of Ares’ further is reflected in the faction she leads in A Total War Saga: Troy, since her faction has associations with Ares, and players playing as an Amazon commander can recruit an infantry unit called ‘Daughter of Ares’.39 Nonetheless, some players objected vociferously to what they saw as the introduction of ‘politically correct’ elements to the game rather than an authentic representation of the setting. Before they were announced, one commenter in a thread on the Steam forums asking whether users thought Amazons would appear, said, ‘Don’t worry, CA [Creative Assembly] is firmly in the equality camp and will throw away any attempt at historical accuracy to appease the new apostate Western revision of history.’40 When the faction was announced through a gameplay video on YouTube, multiple commentators on a Reddit thread argued against the validity of their inclusion, with commentators calling them ‘angry housewives’ and ‘the woke faction’.41 On Creative Assembly’s own forums, in amongst some positive comments, the announcement of Amazons was also greeted by negative comments focusing on their gender, including commentators disputing that there was any ‘truth behind the myth’:42 ‘I dont [sic] like the fact that these are all-women army which is very unrealistic,’ and ‘Strongly Agree! Truth behind the Myth. Maybe they kill men in their tribe that’s why they are all women.’43 One commentator even raised a wish for the Amazon elite units to wear fewer clothes, to make them more ‘tastefully sexy’.44 Thus, even where the setting specifically allows for such characters, and in a game where Aeneas can talk to and receive bonuses from dead heroes (which is, of course, not a feature of Aeneas’ character in Greek epic),45 the inclusion of women was apparently a step too far for the ‘authenticity’ of the game and for some players’ acceptance. Conversely, in the case of Assassin’s Creed: Odyssey (2018), it was the studio executives and marketers, rather than the players, who raised objections to the inclusion of a female character: the titular Assassin, Kassandra.46 Here, the objections were less concerned with authenticity, and instead represent an occasion on which the context of the sexism in the games industry seems to have become a major factor in decisions around representations of a female character within the game. The first Assassin’s Creed game of the main series to feature a female playable protagonist was Syndicate, released in 2015 and set in Victorian London, in which the protagonist role was split between twins, Evie and Jacob.47 In Assassin’s Creed: Origins (2017), set in Hellenistic Egypt (and thus the first of Ubisoft’s two ancient world games in the series), players play as the female character Aya for part of the game. For 2018’s Odyssey, set in fifth-century bce Greece, developers originally planned to take representation a step further and release the game with a female-only protagonist. However, they were prevented from doing so by decisions within the studio (possibly led by creative director Serge Hascoët or the marketing department), who were convinced that a game led by a solely female protagonist would not sell.48 When Assassin’s Creed: Odyssey was released, therefore, players could choose whether to play as Kassandra or Alexios, her brother, for the entire game. In fact, many reviewers commented that Kassandra was the better choice, particularly given the quality of Melissanthi Mahut’s voice acting,49 and some reviewers have even suggested that this 4

Introduction

vindicates the original intention of the developers to make Kassandra the only option for the game’s protagonist.50 Pressure from the wider studio was, it turned out, also responsible for the sidelining of both Evie and Aya in comparison to the original roles planned for them within the games.51 In 2020, it was revealed that these decisions had taken place in a sustained culture of sexual harassment, assault and discrimination at Ubisoft, indicating clearly how sexism and misogyny within the games industry was at the very least correlating with a lack of full representation in the design decisions made for games, if not contributing to them.52 Thus, at a time when the games industry is (slowly) starting to consider issues of representation in relation to gender, even very recent games set in the ancient world continue to face opposition to the portrayal of female characters, particularly female characters as protagonists. Ongoing resistance to the ‘marketability’ of female characters, despite the growth in the numbers of female players, as well as the perception of an ‘authentic’ classical story which includes women both present significant obstacles to full representation, and these obstacles may come from both the players and the makers of classical video games. This volume therefore begins a timely exploration of how these tensions may (or may not) have been resolved across a range of classical video games, considering modern releases and older products together in order to examine the current state of classical play for the first time.53 The genres of many historical games, including games set in the ancient world, may also present certain problems beyond the need to balance accuracy with player expectations; Martin Wainwright has pointed to the setting in the ‘public sphere’ of many historical games, especially those in the action or strategy genres, as presenting particular problems for the makers of historical video games if they are going to include female characters.54 Similarly, the focus in historical games on ‘politics, economics, and war’ has produced a particular problem for representation of women within these games, in what Kevin Schut has described as a masculine model of history.55 Conversely, Ross Clare has examined the ways in which the visual novels Melos and Helena’s Flowers provide a space for exploration of contemporary anxieties around women and their roles both in antiquity and in modern games, mediated through their ancient settings.56 We can see that these generic pressures also often operate in combination with player expectations, in considering the examples of female leaders of ancient world civilizations in the Civilization series, particularly for Civilization V and Civilization VI, released in 2010 and 2016. Female leaders have featured in the series since Civilization II (1996), and the inclusion of a better range of female leaders has been a consistent priority for the game’s studio, Firaxis.57 However, some of the leaders chosen to lead ancient civilizations attracted criticism for the fifth and sixth iterations of the game. Dido as leader of the Carthaginians in Civilization V and Gorgo in Civilization VI were particularly criticized as they did not meet players’ expectations: in the case of Dido as she was not a sufficiently historical figure (her inclusion was felt to stray too far into the realm of myth or story rather than history), and in the case of Gorgo, due to her obscurity.58 Some players were positive about the inclusion of women even if they were less well known, arguing that they appreciated the spur to their curiosity which seeing lesser-known women leading 5

Women in Classical Video Games

civilizations could bring; they expressed a desire to read more and learn about these figures when they appeared.59 However, there was also considerable resistance to the inclusion of these leaders, with the presence of these and other female leaders attracting the criticism that having ‘too many women’ would be ‘not historically accurate’.60 Multiple commentators further judged the inclusion of women as leaders to be a decision made as part of marketing the game rather than for historical or gameplay reasons.61 Interestingly, the fact that the Civilization games are strategy games was repeatedly invoked across discussions as a reason why greater representation in the form of more female leaders was inappropriate, both because it was felt that women rarely formed part of the player base for such games,62 and because commentators felt that there was a greater desire for ‘historical accuracy’ in such a genre.63 In order to explore these generic ramifications further, therefore, and the ways in which the genre of a game may affect the representation of women, the chapters in this volume were selected to cover as wide a variety of games and genres possible. Along with the range of genres considered in the wider surveys of Chapters 2, 3 and 4 (Orellana Figueroa, Persyn and Goad), this includes, among other examples, early platformers (Lowe, Chapter 1), modern platformers (Apotheon, Norgard, Chapter 5), strategy games (Chidwick, Chapter 10; and Dufton, Chapter 12), roguelikes (Hades, Jones, Chapter 7), multiplayer online battle arena (MOBA; Beydler, Chapter 8), action adventure games such as God of War (Ciaccia, Chapter 9), and the action RPGs of the Assassin’s Creed series and Rise of the Argonauts (Ngan, Draycott, Cole and Tuplin, Chapters 6, 11, 13 and 14), and one example of a story and romance-driven mobile game (Cook, Chapter 15). In including this wide range of genres, we both consider those discussed by Wainwright as a problem for representation of female characters and explore how different genres may demonstrate rather different environments for representation. This volume is divided into three parts, with the intention that the broader scope of Part I sets the stage and provides some historical and cultural context for the more focused studies of Parts II and III. Part I presents a series of general overviews of different aspects pertaining to women in classical video games, Part II focuses on female gods, heroes, and monsters and Part III focuses on female mortals (both factual and fictitious). In ‘Part I: Commencing Classical Gaming’, Dunstan Lowe first takes us back to the inception of video games in the late 1980s and explores the origins of female protagonists in classical and classically inspired video games, highlighting the role of the goddess Athena, first in the eponymous Athena and then in subsequently released related titles. Second, Jordy D. Orellana Figueroa brings us up to the present day by providing an historical overview of the portrayals of female characters in classical video games, and starts the process of investigating why, exactly, these portrayals (not to mention the controversies and debates surrounding them) are so problematic. He introduces pressing issues that will recur throughout the subsequent chapters, such as the question of historical accuracy versus authenticity, and the limitations of video games as a medium. Third, Marcie Gwen Persyn takes us further by narrowing the scope to focus on a selection of high-profile classical video games and closely analysing the depiction of female characters within them. 6

Introduction

Then, in ‘Part II: Gods, Heroines and Monsters’, as the example of the reception to the introduction of the Amazons in one of the DLCs for A Total War Saga: Troy shows, it is not only video games which include ‘real’ historical women who face opposition and resistance from players, yet the fact that female characters are well represented in mythological characters, particularly in the forms of goddesses and monsters, is indisputable, and this allows for a wider range of possibilities for these video games. The second part of this volume, therefore, explores the mythological and supernatural female figures who appear in classical video games, ranging from goddesses, to heroines, to monsters. First, Dan Goad considers the concept of the monstrous feminine and, in light of this, explores the role of female monsters and female characters made monstrous. Then, Amy L. Norgard, Kira Jones and Katherine Beydler examine how Greek and Roman goddesses are depicted in three very different types of games: the platformer Apotheon, the roguelike Hades and the MOBA Smite: Battleground of the Gods, respectively. Following these, Olivia Ciaccia zeroes in on one goddess, Aphrodite, the goddess of love and sex, and the way in which she is portrayed in God of War III that amply demonstrates how not just sexualized but hypersexualized women can be in classical video games. Finally, Sophie Ngan explores the representation of women in Rise of the Argonauts and the ways in which creatively diverging from established mythology enables them to develop as heroes (or, indeed, heroines) in their own right rather than as adjuncts to men. Finally, ‘Part III: Queens and Commoners’, is devoted to mortal women, and its chapters consider the representation of the historical, rather than mythological, women of the ancient world, including both historical figures and representations of fictional women within realistic historical settings. First, Hannah-Marie Chidwick approaches the complex issue of the depiction of violence against women in classical video games, considering not only games in which women are the victims of violence but also those in which women are the perpetrators of it, in an attempt to offer a more nuanced study of violence in video games as a whole. Then, Jane Draycott and Andrew Dufton consider the portrayals of the Egyptian Queen Cleopatra VII in Assassin’s Creed: Odyssey and Dante’s Inferno, and the Carthaginian Queen Dido in Civilization VI and Salammbô: Battle for Carthage, respectively, and the extent to which these conform to or depart from pre-existing racist, sexist and orientalizing stereotypes and tropes. Fourth, Richard Cole reflects on perhaps the most high-profile and successful female protagonist in a classical video game to date, Kassandra in Assassin’s Creed: Odyssey, yet ponders the extent to which it actually matters whether you play as Kassandra or her male counterpart Alexios, and what, if anything, introducing a female protagonist adds to the game. Staying with Assassin’s Creed: Odyssey, Roz Tuplin explores the varied portrayal of sex workers and sex work throughout the game. Finally, to close out the volume, Kate Cook remains with the subject of sex workers and sex work, yet moves us away from PC and console games and over to mobile games, to examine one of the most positive depictions of women in a game set in the ancient world to date, the courtesan Arin and the network of female allies that she cultivates as the game unfolds. It was our hope that in producing an edited volume that covered classical and classically inspired video games released from 1986 to the present, and in view of the 7

Women in Classical Video Games

proliferation of games appearing in the twenty-first century, we would be able to see some discernible progress in the way in which women were portrayed in them. Yet, judging by the contents of this volume, it seems that this hope was somewhat simplistic, perhaps even naive. Something to bear in mind as you peruse these chapters are the considerations (e.g. money, marketability, etc.) and limitations (e.g. historical accuracy versus authenticity, etc.) discussed at the outset of this introductory chapter, and the resultant question of whether it is even possible for classical or classically inspired video games to portray women in consistently positive ways. If it is, in fact, possible, to what extent have game developers taken advantage of this possibility and the avenues it opens for them to date? Is it merely a coincidence that the most positive portrayal of women in a classical video game can be found in a mobile game rather than a PC or console game, considering the audiences for those respective types of gaming? Or that this portrayal is found in a game written by a woman that is a classically inspired instalment in a long-running non-classical franchise rather than an instalment in a classical franchise, and is thus not likely to be played by ‘gamers’ but rather by players? To take this further, what type of games do women play, and how do they play them? Are classical or classically inspired video games, whatever the genre, ever created with female players in mind? Are female game developers involved in the creative process? As the video games industry continues its efforts to diversify over the coming years, might we come to see as the norm portrayals of women in classical video games that are positive because they are portrayals of women, rather than in spite of the fact that they are women?

Notes 1. On the decreasing numbers of schools in the UK offering Classical subjects, see Hunt and Holmes-Henderson (2021), particularly with reference to the class issue caused by the decreasing number of state schools in this area, and on the valuable role that mass-media receptions play in introducing these subjects to wider audiences, Lowe and Shahabudin (2009b: ix–xii); on games specifically, Christesen and Machado (2010). On classical reception, see Hardwick and Stray (2011: esp. 38). 2. At the time of writing, the Paizomen database of video games set in the ancient world features 259 entries, of which 93 were released between 2010 and 2021 (Vandewalle 2020). These games range from well-known triple-A titles from major studios such as Ubisoft, as in the case of Assassin’s Creed: Origins (2017), Assassin’s Creed: Odyssey (2018) and Immortals Fenyx Rising (2020), Creative Assembly (A Total War Saga: Troy, 2020); or Sony, Santa Monica Studio, (God of War, 2018), and a range of games released by smaller or independent studios such as Supergiant Games’ Hades (2018), Old World (2020), Apotheon (2015), Okhlos (2016) and Smite (2014). God of War (2018) and Supergiant Games’ Hades were particularly successful, both winning Best Game at the 2019 and 2021 BAFTA Games Awards, respectively (Fox and Kleinman 2019; Stuart and MacDonald 2021); Hades also won Best Game at the 24th Annual D.I.C.E. Awards (Rousseau 2021) and the Nebula Award for Best Game Writing (Kerr 2021). Following Hades’ success, players and voice actors for the game announced a streamed ‘Iliad Project’, during which they would read Fagles’ translation of the Iliad (held in June 2021). The event was inspired by the ‘clear intertextuality’ between the Iliad and Hades,

8

Introduction demonstrating explicitly the ways in which engagement with these games can draw audiences to the classical texts and materials – see further Notis (2021). 3. On benefits, see, for example, McCall (2020: esp. 108–9) on how military games set in ancient Rome may aid conceptualization of battles in the same way as modelling, Morley (2020) on using a text-based game of the Melian Dialogue to understand Thucydides’ narrative and the Melian Dialogue itself more fully through counterfactual explorations, and Holter, Schäfer and Schwesinger (2020) for the possibilities of game-built environments for exploring archaeological spaces such as the Pnyx. 4. See, for example, on some of this work Cox (2011), Cox and Theodorakopoulos (2019) and Hurst (2006). 5. For example, Jennifer Saint’s Ariadne (2021), Pat Barker’s The Women of Troy (2021) and The Silence of the Girls (2019), Natalie Haynes’ A Thousand Ships (2019) and The Children of Jocasta (2017), Madeline Miller’s Circe (2018), and going slightly further back, Margaret Atwood’s Penelopiad (2005), Ursula Le Guin’s Lavinia (2008), and Christa Wolf ’s Cassandra (1983) and Medea (1996). 6. Such as the works of Marina Carr, including By the Bog of Cats (1998) and Ariel (2004), or Ellen McLaughlin’s Iphigenia and Other Daughters (1995). 7. Such as the 2021 series Domina, focused on the life of the first Roman empress Livia Drusilla. 8. On the question of ‘authenticity’ in historical game development, see Rollinger (2020b: 5–6); French and Gardner (2020); and on accuracy and authenticity McCall (2019: 36), Clare (2021: 13–32). 9. Witkowski (2020). In 2021, the video game industry was generating $180 billion in global revenue per year (Schreier 2021: 1). 10. Barr and Copeland-Stewart (2021), Tassi (2021); the WHO even commended the efforts of leading games industry figures at the start of the pandemic to promote gaming as an alternative to in-person socializing – see further Snider (2020). 11. Yee (2017) and Anderton (2019). 12. Jim Ryan (CEO) in the 2021, ‘Game & Network Services Segment’ Report – see further Dring (2021). 13. Valentine (2019). 14. Lin (2021). 15. Williams, Martins, Consalvo and Ivory (2009). 16. On stereotyped female characters in games, see Beasley and Standley (2002), Jansz and Martis (2007) and Malkowski and Russworm (2017). 17. Much if not all of the pushback came from those who identified themselves specifically as gamers, rather than solely players of games; for the label ‘gamer’ and its connotations, see Shaw (2012) and Golding (2015), and in relation to gender, see Cote (2020: 86–110). 18. Sarkeesian (2012). Upon launching her project, Sarkeesian received abuse, threats and harassment, including the rather telling comments, ‘Women don’t belong in video games,’ and ‘Computers, and video games as well, were never meant for women’ (Sarkeesian and Cross 2015: 117). 19. Although, as Shaw (2015: 4–6) points out, the question of representation is unlikely to be so simply answered. 20. Taylor (2019). 21. Yokoi (2021).

9

Women in Classical Video Games 22. Vysotsky and Allaway (2018). 23. See Whelan and Kapell (2020: 2–5) for a good overview of some recent discussion, particularly in relation to RPGs, and Cote (2020: 83–94) more broadly. 24. See further Cote (2020: 4–6) on the wider shifts and conflicts arising in gaming in the 2010s; and on Gamergate, see Z. Quinn (2017), Chess and Shaw (2015) and Golding (2015). 25. Shaw (2015), Cote (2020) and Chess (2017, 2020). 26. For more on women in historical video games, see Draycott (2022). 27. Kapell and Elliott (2013: 8–13) and Clare (2021: 20–1). 28. On games and ‘counterfactual’ histories, see Chapman (2016: 231–65), and on the player’s input Kapell and Elliott (2013: 12–13). Morley (2020) discusses a classical example. 29. Rollinger (2016: 319) and Lowe (2009: 76). 30. Kapell and Elliott (2013: 5–9) and Chapman (2016: 6–11) usefully discuss the problems of expecting a ‘true’ historical narrative against which a game’s content may be compared – indeed, Kapell and Elliott have argued that shared processes of narrative-building and selection make the historian’s own process rather similar to that of the game developer. 31. Ancient authors themselves noted the inconsistency of versions of ancient myths, as in Diodorus Siculus 4.44.5–6 – see, particularly, Gantz (1993: xv–xx) on the ways in which variety of sources leads to the multiformity of Greek myth. 32. Jeffrey Yohalem, quoted in Santomartino (2020). 33. Brown (2019). 34. The character takes the appearance of a blind bard, thus imitating the most popular perception of ‘Homer’s’ identity. For the question of whether or not any such person existed, see Fowler (2004). 35. The Amazons are divided into two possible factions, those led by Penthesilea, seen here and who appears on the cover of this volume, and a group led by Hippolyta. The two factions have slightly different gameplay mechanics: Penthesilea’s armies have no fixed cities (they operate as a ‘horde’ faction in the game), whereas Hippolyta’s forces can capture and hold cities, like the other major Greek and Trojan factions. 36. On the epic Amazons, see Dowden (1997: 98–103) and Mayor (2014: 287–304). 37. Aethiopis fr. 1 (West), ‘So they busied themselves with Hector’s funeral. And an Amazon came, a daughter of Ares the great-hearted, the slayer of men.’ These lines are unlikely to have been the standard beginning of the Aethiopis (see further Rengakos 2015: 312–13), instead they come from a tradition which connects the Aethiopis to the Iliad, thus suggesting an even closer relationship for Penthesilea with the main source, the Iliad, rather than solely her presence in a different poem of the cycle. 38. West (2015: 98). 39. See Total War Wiki (n.d.). 40. stevebullpasture (2020). 41. https://www.reddit.com/r/totalwar/comments/h80aya/amazon_factions_from_the_latest_ gameplay/. 42. ‘Truth behind the myth’ was one of the key principles behind the development of A Total War Saga: Troy (McConnell 2020). The repetition of this phrase also featured in some of the reddit complaints about the Amazons. 43. Achilles13 and jamreal18 (2020).

10

Introduction 44. gholin (2020). 45. Aeneas has a fairly minor role in the Iliad itself, most notably engaging in duels with Diomedes and Achilles and being rescued by the gods (Il. 5.312–4, 20.307–39). In the later Roman poem, the Aeneid, Aeneas does visit the underworld and speak to the dead (Aen. 6), including the dead hero Deiphobus (Aen. 6.494–534), so it is likely that this game mechanic was influenced by the Aeneid rather than the Iliad. 46. For more on Kassandra see Cole in this volume. 47. A female protagonist, Aveline, also featured in Assassin’s Creed: Liberation in 2012, but this game was not part of the main series. Analysis has shown that Syndicate was particularly popular with female gamers in comparison with other titles in the same genre, see further Yee (2017) and Cote (2020: 193). On the development of female characters beyond the protagonists, and their relationships to history, in the Assassin’s Creed series, see Wainwright (2019: 163–8). 48. Schreier (2020). As Schreier notes, Hascoët himself was accused of sexual misconduct and harassment of employees, and has since left his role at Ubisoft. 49. Cote (2020: 93). 50. Tassi (2020). 51. Schreier (2020). 52. Ibid. 53. Scholarship on classical videogames is relatively limited, but scholarship examining the representation of women in such games is even more so – only one chapter in a recent volume on the topic addressed the representation of women specifically (Beavers 2020). 54. Wainwright (2019: 168–9). 55. Schut (2007: 220–3); and see further Chapman (2016: 177–8), who notes that even openworld games which provide more opportunities for the appearances of women often feature these characters as those having history done to them rather than being subjects in history. 56. Clare (2021: 141–56). 57. Strenger (n.d.). 58. For example, Liufeng (2017) described Dido as ‘too legendary’ and Gorgo as ‘too obscure’, and DoGeLoaF (2016) described the inclusion of Gorgo as the leader of Sparta as ‘the feminists taking over’, since Gorgo was ‘a woman who has as an obscure background as any individual in spartan history’. iammaxhailme (2017) claimed similarly that due to their less well-known statuses, ‘picking somebody like Gorgo, or Dido in Civ 5, gives a really “quota filler” feel’. For more on Dido in Civilization, see Dufton in this volume. 59. E.g. UWHabs, Mr. Shadows and sonicmyst (2017). 60. Murphy (2013). 61. E.g. Starfleet (2013): ‘I believe it is a market strategy that goes a little beyond the historical events,’ or Strategikal in the same thread, ‘Yes, I think this is the real reason, marketing.’ 62. Strategikal (2013) followed up their belief that the inclusion of female leaders was a marketing strategy with the comment, ‘But seriously, how many women play civ? I wouldn’t have thought that a strategy game would appeal to many women (or most other types of games for that matter).’ Thus, the genre, strategy, was explicitly connected to the expected gender of players when discussing whether or not female leaders should be represented within the game. 63. E.g. synderwine (2016).

11

12

PART I COMMENCING CLASSICAL GAMING

13

14

CHAPTER 1 PLAYABLE GIRLS IN ANCIENT WORLDS: ATHENA 1986 OPENS THE DOOR Dunstan Lowe

Introduction After half a century of existence, digital games now regularly portray women in and around the ancient world, but this situation took time to evolve. In this chapter, I propose the transformative years 1985–7 as a point of origin, when the first playable woman from classical antiquity appeared in a digital game. In that period, many developers created fantasized versions of Greek mythology, just as female protagonists began to gain popularity. This chapter examines SNK’s 1986 arcade game Athena, the intersection of these two trends, which would both have lasting effects on how classical receptions in gaming evolved.1 This chapter is a deep dive into the world of SNK’s Athena to discover why its female protagonist, so atypical then, was drawn from Greek myth. This will uncover complex layers of ‘texts’ behind the game, mapping not only how much and in what ways its designers used classical antiquity, but also the larger interface of Western and Japanese culture through which this happens. The irony of any young medium is how quickly the ephemeral and the ever-changing develops its own ‘ancient history’: in this case the long 1980s, far removed from the present in both technological and sociocultural terms. The book you are reading is part of that maturing process: only now, from a future that sees digital gaming from the inside, can we apply the tools of rigorous intellectual research to that past’s cultural products. In that spirit, what follows is not just a study of one game and its semi-sequels. It also aims to model a new approach to gaming receptions: rigorous ‘readings’ of games-as-texts. This includes approaching their inspirations (classical and otherwise) genealogically, and using all available evidence: magazine features, interviews and marketing materials. I will compare Athena with contemporary games, especially Kid Icarus, another mythology-themed platformer of 1986 but with a male protagonist.2 When studying classical receptions in non-Western contexts, including ‘Japanese games’, it is dangerously tempting to ignore what seems arbitrary or incomprehensible.3 As I shall demonstrate in this chapter, exploring the game’s complex historical and social context is actually key to understanding how a playable Greek goddess could be timely, relevant and appealing in mid-1980s Japan. With games like Athena, Japan’s video games industry was shaping how players worldwide imagined past and present global cultures, while also breaking new ground by marketing one franchise across multiple media. SNK would radically reinvent Athena within the year in a game called Psycho Soldier – and again the next decade in King of 15

Women in Classical Video Games

Fighters. This history, together with the original game’s marketing, forbids us from reading ‘Athena’ as a (purely) feminist icon and shortening the long strides towards gender equality that were made in ancient-world games of the 1990s and 2000s. However, 1985–7 was crucial in digital gaming history as the real starting point of female agency, making deeper engagements possible as the medium matured. I argue that Athena (1986) embedded classical receptions in this groundwork, not despite, but because of developers’ responsiveness to new trends in Japanese culture. As the female ambassador of classical antiquity in digital gaming, Princess Athena embodies the agility of the medium.

Women and antiquity in 1980s Japan Before we discuss Athena and its legacy in detail, it will be helpful to show how ancientworld digital games portrayed women in the mid-1980s, and indicate that the goddess Athena had some currency in Japanese popular culture at the time. Athena is emblematic of the transformational period of 1985–7 in gaming when new types of female character emerged. Until the early 1980s, technology was largely a male interest and most games portrayed spacecraft.4 In two early female characters, sexism prevails: Donkey Kong (1981) standardized the damsel-in-distress, while Ms. Pac-Man (1982) projected prima donna stereotypes onto a yellow circle, now with pink hairbow and beauty spot.5 In 1985–7, a transitional character-type appears: we might call this the ‘subverted damsel’, who becomes playable in a sequel.6 Female protagonists had appeared earlier,7 but now became mainstream, and not just to attract female customers.8 Princess Athena is one example, though damsel-in-distress plots stayed dominant in games, including those about classical antiquity. The few that used Greek or Roman history were military or sports-themed, with almost no women.9 Greek myth was more popular and inspired several 1980s Japanese games, but these make surprising efforts to turn it into princess-rescues. In the same year as Athena (1986), three major developers did this. In Konami’s Knightmare, Popolon rescues Aphrodite from the underworld king; in Irem’s Youjyuden, a warrior rescues a Minerva statue from a sorcerer; and in Nintendo’s Kid Icarus, Pit rescues ‘Palutena’ (Pallas Athena) from Medusa, the underworld queen. Later games treat Greek myth likewise.10 Athena therefore has a typical approach, but exceptional scenario: the princess must rescue herself. Athena reflects the rise of female protagonists in the mass media of 1970s–80s Japan, and especially one character-type: the brave and supernaturally powerful yet naive teenager, with either a hapless loveinterest or (like Athena) none at all.11 This may best explain why SNK chose the name ‘Athena’ with accompanying Greek elements. Athena is Olympus’ attractive, single, female warrior. This made her highly eligible among Western mythical beings as a protagonist for mid-1980s Japanese gamers. Recent portrayals of the goddess Athena in manga and anime prove her resonance in the cultural moment when Athena appeared.12 In 1977, Hideo Azuma published the light-hearted manga Pollon of Olympus, animated for TV in 1982–3: Athena is a prickly supporting character, but SNK’s princess arguably owes more to Pollon herself. Pollon is 16

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Apollo’s wayward, well-meaning, comically naive daughter, accompanied by her cousin Eros. In 1978, an imposing, statue-like Athena briefly appeared in the anime Metamorphoses, inspired by Ovid’s poem.13 In Arion, a 1979–84 manga about the Olympian gods with a movie in 1986, Athena was fair-looking but stern and military.14 Finally, Saint Seiya began in Shonen Jump magazine on 1 January 1986, seven months before the Athena game. Its first issue introduced 13-year-old Saori Kido, a psychic reincarnation of the goddess Athena. Even if Saint Seiya did not influence Athena, we can at least say that reimagining Athena as a powerful teenager made sense to Japanese audiences, who had wider interests in Greek mythological fantasy. One clear indication that female protagonists were unconventional in games about Greek myth is Nintendo’s Kid Icarus, published the same year as Athena.15 Like Athena, ‘Pit’ is a deity reimagined with new costume and storyline: his name abbreviates ‘Cupid’, the Latin equivalent of Eros. Kid Icarus could be mistaken for a very loose treatment of Greek myth, especially with its misleading English title.16 In fact, its plot is more recognizable than Athena’s once we understand it as a palimpsest. One half rearranges Perseus’ actions in Clash of the Titans (1981): with divine help, Pit battles a two-headed dog,17 gains Pegasus’ flying ability, and defeats Medusa using a mirror shield. The damselrescue myth of Orpheus and Eurydice is overlaid onto this, upside down. Starting in the underworld, Pit escapes to the surface, then continues heavenward to rescue a Eurydicelike Palutena from a Persephone-like underworld queen, Medusa. The victorious player’s performance can earn multiple endings. The worst makes Pit a monster or farmer; the best makes him a fully fledged warrior. A mainstay of Nintendo’s Famicom library, Kid Icarus proved far more popular and influential than Athena. Like Princess Athena, Pit was rebooted in later games including a fighting-game franchise; unlike her, Pit retained his original character and setting.18 It is tempting to count Kid Icarus’ damsel-rescue plot (contrasted with Athena’s female protagonist and male nemesis) among the reasons for its commercial success. In any case, from a twenty-first-century standpoint, Athena looks far more experimental.

Athena (1986): Design, content and marketing The history of Athena and its eponymous heroine is complicated, even for a video game franchise, and its engagement with Greek mythology is remarkably free and creative. Both the game’s history and content can shed light on what made Princess Athena the first playable female of any ancient-world digital game. Athena is a typical arcade platformer, if unusually frenetic and difficult: the playercharacter travels rightwards by running, jumping and climbing ladders, and must avoid taking damage from enemies. Destroying enemies or blocks may reveal weapons, armour and other useful items; players must defeat end-of-stage bosses to progress. Playing ‘as a girl’ makes no difference structurally, but is thematically significant. In form and content, Athena was a departure for SNK: it was their contribution to a wave of fantasy platformers with eponymous mascots, rippling out from Nintendo’s 17

Women in Classical Video Games

Super Mario Bros (1985).19 The year 1986 was already a turning-point for the expanding company, and Athena became part of this as their eighteenth release that July.20 The arcade original was Japan-only, but Nintendo’s 1987 home version reached American gamers.21 Athena’s numerous power-ups and special items were highly ambitious and unusual: the planner and designer created a role-playing-game (RPG)-style multiple upgrade system,22 which they had recently imported into a space shooter.23 However, the cornerstone of its marketing was putting a female protagonist in a lighthearted fantasy setting: this succeeded so well that Athena even received fan mail, which was then unusual for a game character.24 She was becoming not only SNK’s mascot, but a celebrity in her own right. This would have lasting implications for the company and, indeed, the industry. Although the game’s female character and its fantasy world were departures for SNK, I shall argue that both took multiple cues from Japanese popular culture, including elements filtered from Western story-worlds and especially Greek mythology. Like most early developers, SNK chiefly made space shooters,25 and their biggest 1986 game would be Ikari Warriors, a Rambo-inspired ‘run-and-gun’ shooter. Athena was different, with its cartoonish style, jaunty music and light-hearted premise. In a hallway, a girl in a red dress opens a door: she is sucked in, then falls down into a fantasy world and must navigate hazards to escape. This situation recalls Lewis Caroll’s Alice in Wonderland, and the game was actually promoted as ‘Athena’s Wonder Land’.26 But Princess Athena is a more mature character, and not just because she kills monsters. As she falls, the dress flies away, revealing her signature red bikini, diadem and sandals. (There had been one earlier longhaired, bikini-wearing character, Princess Lum, in the science-fiction manga Urusei Yatsura: she was on television in anime form throughout Athena’s development and release. In that long-running series, Lum’s hair became green: Athena’s is an equally colourful purple.)27 This short introductory sequence presents Athena as a sort of AliceLum figure, with only diadem and sandals to mark her as ancient (see Figure 1.1). Tellingly, the very name ‘Athena’ only appears on the title-screen and scoreboard, never during gameplay, not even in the congratulatory message for completing the game. Athena only gains real Hellenic connotations once she starts exploring her new environment. Athena’s accessories, environments and enemies feature more Greek mythological elements than meets the eye. Their names, while technically meta-game elements found only in the arcade manual (and other publications), add useful insights into the designers’ intent. The suit of armour and weapons that Athena must collect to progress are best described as classico-mediaeval, a generalized impression of pre-modern European military equipment. Weapons include clubs, bows, wands, flails and swords; the most powerful is the giant Fire Sword. The armour comprises helmet, cuirass, shield and mirror:28 the most powerful is golden with a lion-head shield. Other items more directly evoke Greek myth:29 to begin with, Athena can jump higher with (winged) Shoes of Icarus and fly with Wings of Pegasus. The above-mentioned ‘mirror’ items, which add damage resistance, resemble the shields: it is striking that the Three Legendary Treasures in Kid Icarus (1986) are the Mirror Shield, the Arrow of Light and the Pegasus Wings that 18

Playable Girls in Ancient Worlds

Figure 1.1 Screenshot of Princess Athena as a new game begins in Athena (1986). confer the power of flight. It is tempting to think that Athena’s reference to Icarus, its shield-shaped mirror and its Pegasus-wing item influenced Kid Icarus.30 Yet they appeared only three months apart,31 so developers more likely adopted widely known tropes, particularly from the 1981 movie Clash of the Titans, independently.32 Other magical items are vaguely ancient: the Shell Necklace transforms Athena into a mermaid, an oil lamp lets her ‘find’ the correct World through each World’s alternative exit,33 and a chest named Pandora’s Box lets her defeat Hell World’s boss. The mirror, necklace, lamp and chest suggest a girlish interest in personal adornment, offsetting Athena’s conventionally masculine armour and weapons. Athena’s last, most valuable item is the Guardian Lyre,34 which deserves special attention since it gives the only in-game hint at who Princess Athena really is. It is conferred at the end of World of Labyrinth, by a winged woman (instead of a ‘boss’) known only as ‘Titan’: she floats down in white robe and diadem, hovers, then disappears, leaving the Lyre. If attacked, she drops the Demon King Lyre as punishment, which strips all items. This enigmatic patron is comparable to Greek goddesses in other 1980s Japanese games, who, in turn, can collectively be traced to Clash of the Titans.35 The player is left wondering: is ‘Titan’ the real Athena?36 This reinforces the impression that the design team failed – or refused – to decide what Princess Athena is: the goddess herself, her mortal ward, or her reincarnation. As a final twist, the white-robed ‘Titan’ and her lyre (or harp) occupy an overlap in Japanese popular culture between winged Greek deities and Christian angels.37 Indeed, the item needed for entering World of Labyrinth 19

Women in Classical Video Games

to begin with is the Messiah Key. This hints at a Christian dimension to the game’s premise, as Athena falls from on high into a demon’s realm. Perhaps ‘Hell World’ is more than just the sixth stage in her journey. In any case, even after we find multiple threads of classical antiquity in the game, these prove deeply woven into its allusive tapestry. More threads of classical reception, though often subtle, can be traced in the enemies populating eight Worlds (Forest, Cave, Sea, Air, Ice, Hell, Labyrinth and Final). I shall discuss minor enemies first, then each World’s boss and finally Athena’s nemesis Emperor Dante, who is himself composed from multiple sources. I propose to group the twenty-six minor enemies according to their relationship with Greek myth. First, there are small creatures lacking mythical overtones: slimes, spiders, scorpions, armadillos, winged snakes, fish, anemones and sea urchins. Second, there are humanoids. These include ogres called Kassamu (Chasm?) and several types of knight, but the commonest are animal-headed: Boa (Boar?) have tusked pigs’ heads, Pyutan are horse-headed and Ryukaon are wolf-headed wizards. I suggest that these enemies imitate Renaissance engravings of Greek myths about transformation, since ‘Ryukaon’ is evidently ‘Lycaon’, the mythical king whom Zeus turned into a wolf.38 Three other humanoids are more Hellenic in design: Coda is a crossbowman with tunic, beard and winged temples; Minotaurus is bull-headed, with armour and sword; and Medusa has wild hair and a snake-tail. The original Medusa concept art is far closer to the monster in Clash of the Titans and reveals the hair to be snakes.39 Finally, two animal enemies have classical influences hidden in their names like Ryukaon. One resembles a boar-headed quadruped, but is called Cerberus and appears only in World of Hell; the other is a winged lion, in reality an ancient Near Eastern motif, though its Latin name Regulus refers to astrology: Regulus is the chief star in Leo. Overall, we find that perhaps one third of minor enemies involve classical allusions, but unsystematically and through intermediary visual sources. Others are supernatural animals or knights; there is an overall effect of whimsical, sometimes menacing variety, perhaps reflecting the Alice in Wonderland influence already noted in Athena herself. Turning now to Athena’s six bosses thematically linked with their Worlds, we find further inspiration from classical myth, and names are again important.40 World of Forest’s boss is ‘Hamadrius’, a malevolent tree named after the hamadryas, a type of Greek tree-nymph. The World of Cave boss is the stone monster ‘Ghodem’, evidently based on the golem of Jewish folklore. World of Sea’s boss is an octopus, ‘Neputune’ (i.e. Neptune). This seems to mean simply ‘master of the sea’, although the design of this World itself evokes Atlantis: collapsed, cracked columns are in the foreground, while in the background, gill-faced swordsmen emerge from undersea buildings.41 World of Air’s boss is ‘Khimaira’ (i.e. chimaera), a three-headed, fire-spitting green dragon. Like the Cerberus enemy, Khimaira’s appearance was probably simplified to look better on screen. This battle takes place before a ruined Greek temple on clouds: this same fantasy trope appears in Kid Icarus, whose Olympus section consists of classical architecture on clouds.42 The bosses of the Worlds of Ice and Hell, like their Worlds, are not particularly Greek in design. Both are brightly coloured monsters: ‘Gryupus’ (ȸɲɭɟɁ, gryupusu) is a tentacled blue sphere whose fanged mouth shoots bubbles. In the context of 20

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Hamadrius and Khimaira, this probably represents gryps, Greek for griffin. World of Hell’s boss is ‘Madou’ (ɦɑό, sorcery), a six-armed, one-eyed red monster capable of teleporting and fire-summoning. World of Labyrinth ends with ‘Titan’ instead of a fight; Final World repeats all six bosses in a ‘boss rush’, culminating in Emperor Dante. Overall, the influence of classical myth still seems unsystematic, though stronger than for minor enemies.43 No boss is definitively classical in form, though Hamadrius, Neputune, Khimaira and probably Gryupus have Greek mythical names, and Hamadrius and Khimaira match these in appearance. However, a different logic seems to underlie the bosses’ design: they progress from earthly to unearthly (tree, stone, sea-creature, bubblemonster, magical monster, goddess), leading up to the ‘final boss’. Emperor Dante is the crowning example of the cultural eclecticism, and resultant complexity of classical receptions, that we have seen throughout Athena. Dante is an enormous humanoid with three horned heads, sword and shield, and a canine lower half with a fanged mouth in his belly. Some assume that he is Cerberus, guard dog of the underworld;44 his red eyes and huge belly might conceivably fit how his namesake Dante Alighieri describes Cerberus (Inferno 6.13–33). However, the triple faces and gaping nether mouth point to a more complicated answer. I suggest that Dante’s direct model is the demon Xenon (or Zennon) in Go Nagai’s 1972 manga Devilman: Xenon’s true form is colossal, muscular and fur-covered, with three fanged heads, long horns and a huge face on his abdomen.45 The name ‘Dante’ confirms this, since Nagai adapted Devilman from his own 1971 manga Demon Lord Dante.46 So, Emperor Dante gets his name from Demon Lord Dante, and parts of his anatomy from Xenon in the subsequent Devilman, although the Greek Cerberus is still the best explanation for his canine half. The only elements still unexplained are Dante’s wild red hair and the studded bands on his left wrist: I suggest that these derive from Calibos in the 1981 Clash movie, especially combined with horns, fangs and a bare chest.47 So, Emperor Dante – like Athena herself – combines classical and post-classical Western ingredients with more recent Japanese inspirations. Ironically, even the name Dante belongs to manga: this fact in itself shows the value of approaching classical receptions in games genealogically. So long as games continue to draw on a diverse range of influences, this will remain true.

Athena wins: Psycho Soldier, King of Fighters and beyond Less than a year after Athena, SNK redesigned their mascot more radically than any developer before or since, which is long overdue for scrutiny. The follow-up game, Psycho Soldier, features the psychic ‘Athena Asamiya’ (hereafter Asamiya) in an altogether darker, near-future setting.48 It was moderately successful with critics and players, but like Athena, its theme and style were more innovative and impactful than its gameplay – and entirely focused around the female protagonist. Psycho Soldier made history as the first game containing a whole digitized song.49 That song was the linchpin of both characterdesign and marketing: Asamiya is a pop-idol schoolgirl who destroys aliens. As with Athena, there is no in-game plot exposition, but according to the arcade flyer and manual, 21

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Asamiya and ‘Player 2’ bandmate Sie Kensou fight the Shige/Sigma monsters who have devastated the world.50 Most still assume that SNK’s linking of Psycho Soldier with Athena was a superficial and desperate rebranding exercise,51 but this is incorrect. I shall reveal overlooked connections between the two projects, which have broader implications for what a classical heroine meant in 1980s Japan. It is important to recognize Psycho Soldier as evidence that Princess Athena not only reflected but also shaped SNK’s approach towards character design and the combining of multiple influences, including mythological fantasy. Although neither game contains staff credits, I have identified three individuals connecting their design and marketing teams.52 This continuity explains how the two games formed a franchise, despite having no unifying narrative. I mentioned earlier that the original Athena (hereafter ‘Princess Athena’) has an ambiguous status, whether god, part-god or mortal. The introduction of Asamiya the psychic schoolgirl greatly complicated this question. Is she Princess Athena’s descendant, reincarnation, reinvention or just namesake? SNK have commented sparsely and inconsistently over the years, confusing players and commentators to this day. This is just one of several ways that Psycho Soldier followed the path laid by Athena. SNK used various marketing strategies to link Athena and Psycho Soldier, but especially the catchy Psycho Soldier theme. Despite being absent from Athena, the song featured in its television commercials together with original anime sequences. The home-console version of Athena was launched at a joint event with the arcade Psycho Soldier, and every Athena cartridge came with the Psycho Soldier song on cassette. It is astonishing how much content Princess Athena generated within a year. There was manga artwork in the strategy manual and magazine advertisements; anime in the commercial; an entire semi-sequel game; even a pop song. Princess Athena was now a ‘media mix’ phenomenon.53 Despite the obvious differences, Psycho Soldier has definite thematic links with Athena (1986) that deserve recognition. In broad terms, the pairing of Greek myth with science fiction did have parallels in 1980s Japanese gaming,54 and I have mentioned that Saint Seiya reincarnated the goddess Athena as a psychic teenager.55 However, we can identify five specific overlaps in content and gameplay. First, players collect upgrades in both by destroying enemies and stone blocks. Second, after defeating each boss, Asamiya plummets down to the next stage: six stages descend from a devastated city through sewers, caverns, a watery Atlantis, fossils and lava, and eventually the alien-infested core and final boss.56 In her game, Princess Athena plummeted into the start, then every new World; her Final World was almost a rehearsal for Psycho Soldier, since after defeating each boss she dropped downward. Third, Asamiya’s strongest form is a golden phoenix that breathes fire, corresponding to Princess Athena’s golden armour and Fire Sword. Fourth, Asamiya wears school uniform in Psycho Soldier; the extra-life item in Athena was, incongruously, a school uniform.57 Finally, the (third) Atlantis level recalls elements of Athena’s (third) World of Sea. The scenery features columns and cracked stone blocks, while its ‘Lagos’ enemies are gill-men and fish, and its boss ‘Lagos Agon’ also a skeletallooking fish. The wall behind it features two apparently ancient female statues holding swords: after victory, Athena walks past the second with sword downward, as if 22

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symbolizing peace. Although ‘Titan’ in Athena was enigmatic in a different way, these unexplained women keep Athena’s ancient background an open question. Most critics and reviewers note the stark differences between Princess Athena and Asamiya,58 but none have realized that Asamiya had an independent model. This insight will be crucial for understanding how 1980s Japanese developers like SNK selected and handled source materials from other media, and consequently how Greek mythology influenced Athena and its legacy. Our starting point with Asamiya is the broadening 1980s popularity of magical battling schoolgirls in fiction, and teenage pop-idols in general. A direct comparison can be drawn with a non-classical 1986 game, Valis: The Fantasm Soldier.59 In both Psycho Soldier and Valis, schoolgirls fight monsters with supernatural weapons. More importantly, Valis directly imitated the movie Leda: The Fantasy War (1985).60 Valis resembles Leda in not only plot and title,61 but even the protagonist’s name: the schoolgirl in Leda is Yoko and the one in Valis is Yuko. Likewise, the protagonist’s name is what betrays Psycho Soldier’s direct inspiration: the popular 1985 TV show Sukeban Deka was about a uniformed schoolgirl named Saki Asamiya.62 Saki fights criminals using her steel yo-yo: this arguably inspired the ‘Psycho Balls’ spinning around Asamiya in Psycho Soldier, which can be launched as weapons.63 The Sukeban Deka connection may help to explain why Athena became a pop-idol who sang the game’s theme: the original Sukeban Deka actor, Yuki Saitō, was a pop idol who sang the show’s theme.64 These insights have profound implications for SNK’s original decision to create Athena using Greek mythology. As I have shown, reinventing Princess Athena as Asamiya embedded her deeper in the fabric of 1980s Japanese culture than most have realized. On the one hand, this took her further away from the classical elements lending distinctiveness to the original game; on the other hand, it followed where that very inspiration led. A third era for SNK’s Athena character began in 1994, when Asamiya joined the roster of the fighting game King of Fighters. She became a staple, featuring in over two dozen KoF games, besides numerous smartphone tie-ins.65 Asamiya even starred in a 1999 sci-fi spin-off with tie-in television show.66 Meanwhile, Princess Athena was independently revived in Athena: Full Throttle (2006), a direct smartphone sequel to Athena (1986), in which she drags her magician servant Helene through another forbidden door.67 However, Princess Athena has frequently co-starred in KoF games, usually as Asamiya’s helper or momentary guise.68 Asamiya’s hair colour subtly erodes the distinction between the two, being usually Athena purple instead of Psycho Soldier pink. One striking portrayal of their relationship is Asamiya’s Neo Max move in KoF XIII (2010; see Figure 1.2). This summons six Princess Athenas holding various weapons from Athena 1986 (the mace bears its logo.) The player’s combo length determines their armour colour, blue up to gold – but the longest combos earn Athena’s red bikini. This overwrites the original upgrade system with a gaze-centred logic, making Princess Athena’s vulnerable bikini now her ‘best’ outfit: Athena herself is now the prize. Her celebrity status outlived her original story, although the idol Asamiya can still revisit the classical world.69 To sum up: SNK created Athena (1986) in response to contemporary interest in Greek mythology, co-opting several girl-centred sources. Recent manga-anime franchises had 23

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Figure 1.2 Asamiya’s Neo Max move in King of Fighters XIII (2010). used Olympian goddesses as characters, lending currency to the Athena name. Alice in Wonderland contributed the game’s scenario, its longer title, and perhaps its enemies; Urusei Yatsura contributed a bikini and brightly coloured anime hair. The next year, Psycho Soldier co-opted Athena, in turn. This created the semi-combined Princess Athena-Asamiya who endures in King of Fighters to this day. Asamiya’s pop-idol dimension was functionally compatible with Princess Athena, because it expanded an already playful and eclectic ‘media mix’ phenomenon. Like many characters and themes in digital gaming, Asamiya is an unexpected limit case for classical reception.

Conclusions Digital gaming in the 1980s generally objectified women and cast gamers as violent male heroes,70 suiting all-too-established stereotypes about classical antiquity. SNK’s Athena is therefore a powerful counterpoint to Nintendo’s Kid Icarus – and most 1986 games – in using Greek myth for a girl-centred story. Athena was typical of 1980s Japan in approaching Greek myth playfully, yet broke new ground with its female protagonist. Furthermore, Psycho Soldier (despite permanently complicating her already ambiguous identity) made Athena the first multi-game female ‘mascot’. In this sense, Athena paved the way for playable women in future decades like Lara Croft or Soul Calibur’s Sophitia, who focalize far richer engagements with Mediterranean antiquity. By studying Athena as text-in-context, approaching its sources genealogically, I have shown that its Greek myth is not simply ‘Western’, but echoes Japanese appropriations of Western motifs. The result is cumulative, not systematic. I have argued that the goddess 24

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Athena also suited a fashionable character-type: the brave-but-naive supernatural warrior schoolgirl. I have shown specific parallels (of different kinds) with two better known 1986 franchises, Saint Seiya and Kid Icarus. Some of Athena’s content derives from myth-based visual sources like Clash of the Titans, Little Pollon and even Devilman, alongside non-mythical influences like Alice in Wonderland and Urusei Yatsura. In turn, Psycho Soldier draws on Sukeban Deka, though I have also revealed internal links with Athena (such as the phoenix powerup and Atlantis stage). Athena’s next great reinvention in King of Fighters forged new links. SNK transformed their ‘Athena’ character so radically that she became an important, decades-long story about antiquity and gender in digital gaming in her own right. Athena (1986) opened the door.

Notes 1. For surveys of classical receptions in gaming, see Secci (2019) and Alexander Vandewalle’s database at Paizomen (2021). Critical assessments include McMenomy (2015), Garfield and Manders (2019), Rollinger (2020c) and Clare (2021). 2. Besides common features of 1980s platformers (cartoonish graphics, themed stages), Athena and Kid Icarus also share RPG-style upgrade systems. I discuss specific similarities (involving items and enemies) below. 3. Consalvo (2016: 4): ‘ “Japanese games” [. . .] have increasingly become convenient signifiers that push us to reify cultural origins and ignore or downplay other factors, including industrial histories [. . .] and the changing political and social context in which games are made, sold, and played.’ See also Hutchinson (2019). 4. Notably Computer Space (1971), Space Wars (1977), Space Invaders (1978), Asteroids (1979). 5. Arcade flyers called Ms. Pac-Man a ‘femme fatale’ who ‘dramatically swoons’. Toru Iwatani designed Pac-Man itself (1980) with cute characters to attract women (https://www.wired. com/2010/05/pac-man-30-years/, accessed 7 January 2022). 6. Most prominently, Super Mario Bros. 2 (1988) includes Princess Peach among four playable characters. Two semi-mythological examples are Namco’s Babylonian-themed Return of Ishtar (1986), starring Princess Ki with her rescuer as sidekick, and Maze of Galious (1987), in which Popolon and the rescued Aphrodite collaborate to rescue their baby. 7. The earliest human female protagonist was ‘Billie Sue’ in Wabbit (1982). 8. Some games definitely targeted girls: in Girl’s Garden, Sega’s monument to benevolent sexism (SG-1000 1986), Papuri collects flowers to keep her boyfriend. By contrast, Baraduke (1985) and Metroid (1986) reveal their space-suited protagonists as women in twist endings. On femininity in the Metroid franchise, see Roberts (2012). In 1986, British (male) gamers played the first all-female beatemup, Legend of the Amazon Women: a woman fights modern-day jungle Amazons, wearing minidresses, who captured her infant daughter. 9. Most 1980–7 ancient history games are turn-based strategy on home computers, e.g. Tyrant of Athens (1982), The Fall of Rome (1984), Annals of Rome (1986). Two 1984 Japanese arcade games have sports-themed Roman settings: Taito’s fencing game Great Swordsman and SNK’s racing game Gladiator 1984. 10. In Heracles No Eikou (1987), Heracles rescues Venus from Hades; in Altered Beast (1988), the Beast Warrior rescues Athena from an underworld-usurping Sorcerer; in Battle of Olympus (1988), Orpheus rescues Helene from Hades; in Phelios (1989), Apollo rescues Artemis from Typhon.

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Women in Classical Video Games 11. On female character-types in Japan, see Napier (1998). 12. For more on this, see Castello and Scilabra (2015), who discuss Pollon (‘Poron’), Saint Seiya and more. 13. Metamorphoses aka Orpheus of the Stars (dir. Masunaga 1977, reissued as The Winds of Change 1979). Athena features in two episodes, ‘Aglauros’ and ‘Medusa’. 14. The manga Arion (ȪɲȲɻ) by Yoshikazu Yasuhiko ran in Monthly Comic Ryū during 1979–84. The anime movie (dir. Yasuhiko) came out in March 1986. 15. For an overview of the franchise, see Wolff (2018). 16. The original title Mythology of Light: Palutena’s Mirror refers to the Mirror Shield, although the English title is somewhat appropriate: Pit’s assistant fellow soldiers were originally called Icaros, making Pit an ‘Icaros’, too. 17. The underworld section’s boss is ‘Twinbellows’ (i.e. Twin-berus), a two-headed Cerberus. 18. After a 1991 sequel (Kid Icarus: Of Myths and Monsters), Pit joined the roster of Smash Bros. Brawl (2008) and its sequels. He starred in Kid Icarus: Uprising in 2012. On how the Athena character evolved, see below. 19. Irem’s Kid Niki, Nintendo’s Kid Icarus, and Sega’s Wonder Boy and Alex Kidd all appeared in 1986. 20. ‘1986 was a real turning point for SNK, in a number of ways’ (Nakai 1996: 113). 21. This chapter discusses the arcade version. Micronics’ Famicom/NES version removed or changed various elements. Home computer versions differed further. 22. There are around fifty obtainable items, including thirteen weapons and nine armour upgrades (Kalata 2018a). For comparison, Super Mario Bros (1985) has five. 23. A.S.O./Alpha Mission (1985; see Nakai 1996: 113). On the RPG-style upgrades, see also Anon. (1993). The planner was Kōji Obata: credits hidden in the ROM file for the NES version of A.S.O. include his nickname, ‘Mr. Oba’ (https://tcrf.net/Alpha_Mission_(NES), accessed 14 April 2021). 24. Nakai (1996: 113). 25. This continued from SNK’s first release Ozma Wars (1978) to Vanguard (1981), Mad Crash (1984) and Alpha Mission (1985). 26. This title appeared on Japanese arcade flyers, 1986 industry sales charts in Game Machine (issues 291–5), and even the back of the 1987 Famicom box as Athena’s Wander Land (sic). 27. The manga Urusei Yatsura ran in Weekly Shonen Sunday (1978–87). Fuji Television broadcast the anime (1981–6). One previous arcade game, Time Gal (Taito 1984), imitated Lum with Reika, a time-cop with bikini and green hair. 28. According to the manual, the three ranks are Shiva’s, Leda’s and Ide’s Mirrors. This implies that Athena has fellow goddesses with personal mirrors. The hi-score names are Athena, Ida, Shiva, Python, Madillo and Shacho. 29. All item and character names are from SNK’s arcade manual. See also: https://ja.wikipedia. org/wiki/ȪɎɒ_(Ⱥόɨ) (accessed 25 May 2021). 30. Both games feature flying snakes and teleporting wizards as minor enemies. 31. Athena launched in August (Game Machine 1986: 5), Kid Icarus in December. 32. On the Pegasus Wing/Wings of Pegasus in particular, compare the taming of Pegasus in Glory of Heracles (1987) and ‘Wings of Pegasus’ ability in Battle of Olympus (1988). The extensive influence of Harryhausen’s creatures on digital gaming, especially through Clash of the Titans (1981), is overdue for scholarly investigation.

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Playable Girls in Ancient Worlds 33. Without the lamp, Athena enters a random World, potentially preventing completion. 34. This Harp is a permanent version of the ‘K’ (Keep?) Slate, which prevents item loss on death. 35. In Clash of the Titans (1981), Athena, Aphrodite and Hera give Perseus gifts. Most obviously, ‘Palutena’ (Pallas Athena) confers Pit’s treasures in Kid Icarus (1986). In Irem’s Youjyuden (also 1986), the warrior rescues a statue of Minerva (aka Athena), once again a patroness-damsel. In Konami’s Knightmare (again 1986), according to the manual, Hera helps Popolon to rescue Aphrodite. 36. In the abovementioned Arion franchise, the Olympian gods are called Titans. Shakespeare’s Titania might also have influenced the name. 37. Another example is Kid Icarus, set in ‘Angel Land’. 38. For example, ‘Ryukaon’ could be inspired by the wolf-headed man in Goltzius’ Lycaon of Arcadia (c. 1590). 39. For Medusa’s concept art, see Famimaga (1987: 73) and Gamest Mook (1996: 146). 40. I use SNK’s own English transcriptions of the boss names, listed e.g. under track 2 on SNK Game Music (G.M.O. Records 1987). 41. The mer-men are ‘Dagos’, apparently named after the Semitic fish-god Dagon. In Psycho Soldier’s Atlantis level (discussed below), the mer-men are ‘Lagos’, an obvious point of connection. 42. The buildings-on-clouds trope began with ‘Jack and the Beanstalk’ in Disney’s Fun and Fancy Free (1947). World 2-1 of Super Mario Bros. (1983) imitates this: a beanstalk leads up to solid clouds. 43. SNK’s later Time Soldiers (1987), notionally organized by era, shows a comparable mix of classical and non-classical bosses: ‘The Age of Rome’ has a three-headed dragon, Medusa, a Minotaur and Anubis. I thank the anonymous reviewer for this comparison. 44. E.g. Kalata (2018a) and Bundy (2020: 35). 45. The cape(?) at Dante’s shoulders may visually echo Xenon’s bat-wings. Xenon had already influenced the final boss of Ghosts ’n Goblins (1985): Astaroth, ruler of Demon World, is colossal and horned with a face on his torso. 46. This title acknowledges in turn that Nagai’s inspiration was Doré’s 1832–3 engraving of Satan for Dante’s Divine Comedy. 47. When Calibos loses his left hand in Clash (1981), the metal fork replacement is on a socket with studs around the wrist. 48. Japanese often renders ‘psychic’ as ‘psycho’. For example, Psychic-type moves in Pokémon include Psycho Boost, Psycho Cut and Psycho Shift. 49. It is tempting to see another influence here from the Urusei Yatsura television show, besides Princess Athena’s bikini. Urusei Yatsura was the first anime with a pop-song theme; Psycho Soldier was the first game with a pop-song theme. 50. According to the flyer, ‘Breaking of the seal by enemies causes darkness to cover the world.’ 51. Bundy (2020: 38) falsely claims that SNK wanted to reinvent Athena after ‘a huge negative response’. As I write, the Asamiya Wikipedia page contains further false and unsupported claims that some audiences, and SNK’s own staff, regarded Princess Athena negatively. 52. Both games were planned by Kōji Obata, with promotional artwork by ‘Rampty’ (ɱɻɟɎȬ), who illustrated both manuals, plus Psycho Soldier’s flyer; Toshiyuki Nakai, who designed all characters in Athena, promoted Psycho Soldier. Nakai (1996: 113) mentions his own role and (anonymously) Obata’s.

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Women in Classical Video Games 53. On Japan’s ‘media mix’ evolution, see Steinberg (2012). The Athena/Psycho Soldier phenomenon represents a high-water mark, together with Wonder Momo (February 1987), which playfully satirizes the new celebrity of game heroines: Momo is an actress playing a superhero onstage. 54. The science-fiction settings dominating early video games kept looming large. Wings of Ares (1986) combines futuristic elements with Greek myth. Nintendo’s 1986 platformers Kid Icarus and Metroid shared their game engine, several designers and ‘metroid’ enemies. Earlier text adventures incorporated ancient settings using time-travel technology (e.g. Time Zone 1982, Lords of Time 1983). I thank the anonymous reviewer for this observation. 55. The Saint Seiya manga appeared in January 1986; it reached TV on 11 October, two months after Athena and five before Psycho Soldier. Saori Kido is conceivably SNK’s conceptual bridge from Athena to Psycho Soldier. 56. Its name ‘Shige do Dabid’ is enigmatic, but ‘David’ is definitely male. 57. Athena’s few other modern-world elements all appear in World of Air. Its backdrop features motorcycles and an aeroplane. I also discovered an ‘Easter egg’ in the Final World’s World of Air section: hidden in the rocks beyond Khimaira are a face with sunglasses and the initials V.G.L, indicating SNK’s newsletter Video Game Land, edited by Kasatoshi Yoshino (Thorpe 2018: 22). 58. Kalata (2018b) offers the best available comparison of the two. 59. Mugen Senshi Valis (1986). 60. Genmu Senki Leda (dir. Yuyama 1985). 61. The titles match in both sound and sense (Genmu/Mugen = Fantasy/Dream, Senki/Senshi = War/Warrior, Leda/Valis = proper name). 62. Shinji Wada’s manga spanned 1975 (pilot issue), 1976–8, 1979–82. 63. Series 3 (broadcast from October 1986) introduced a psychic villain named The Emperor, who conceivably influenced Psycho Soldier (March 1987). 64. Saitō’s rock single Shiroi Honō (White Blaze). 65. See: https://snk.fandom.com/wiki/Athena_Asamiya#Game_Appearances (accessed 20 May 2021). 66. Athena: Awakening from the Ordinary Life (1999), an RPG with puzzle elements. Kei Ishibashi starred in thirteen episodes of Athena (TV Tokyo, 1998). 67. See: https://snk.fandom.com/wiki/Athena:_Full_Throttle (accessed 20 May 2021). 68. Across eleven games (2000–18), Princess Athena has been a hidden boss, playable character, Asamiya’s ‘Another Striker’ and alternative costume, and featured in Asamiya’s moves and backgrounds. In KoF ’97 (1997), the ‘SNK Heroes’ ending shows Asamiya in Princess Athena’s bikini: her shocked expression marks this as a meta-textual joke. 69. In King of Fighters 2002: Unlimited Match (2009), Asamiya’s stage contains an amphitheatre and a colossus of the goddess Athena. Inscriptions say ‘King of Fighters’ in Greek. 70. See Bryce, Rutter and Sullivan (2006), Kafai, Heeter, Denner and Sun (2011) and Richard (2012).

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CHAPTER 2 A HISTORICAL ANALYSIS OF WOMEN IN VIDEO GAMES BASED ON CLASSICAL ANTIQUITY Jordy D. Orellana Figueroa

Introduction In 2018, the presence of too many hireable women generals in the game Total War: Rome II caused a public controversy.1 Calls decrying a lack of ‘historical accuracy’ arose, despite women military leaders being known historically2 and the game only allowing a small percentage of available generals to be women. Their inclusion was also limited to only a few select factions and it had been unchanged since its introduction six months prior. Nevertheless, it was only until then that controversy arose and negative reviews with complaints of ‘historical inaccuracy’ (amongst other things) started appearing. The history present in historical video games reflects popular historical knowledge,3 whilst the games themselves shape people’s perception of history in turn.4 Controversies such as that of the Rome II women generals are thus a battleground where popular perceptions of women in ancient history and their representations in video games collide;5 a battleground where historians may wish to – or be asked to – join, and one which can easily turn foul. One recent example, with many similarities to Rome II’s, prompted many to level considerable vitriol and misogyny at the most prominent woman academic involved.6 This risk of online harassment is a deeper problem, as it is levied discriminatingly towards minority groups.7 One study found women receive more harassment targeting their gender, even if men experienced more instances of online harassment in total – and more often towards their political stances.8 This harassment has a gendered effect, as women retreat from online spaces after harassment more often,9 and coping with this harassment can require emotional labour, which can lead to fatigue and withdrawal from public discourse,10 effectively silencing women’s voices online. It must also be noted that the controversy surrounding Rome II took place in an online context that had experienced a wave of harassment against women working in – or discussing – the video games industry beginning in late 2014,11 though widespread online harassment against people in the games industry was not an entirely new phenomenon.12 Many have already commented on how ‘historical accuracy’ had become a euphemism for advocating for the removal of visible women, ethnic, sexual and gender minorities (e.g. Rome II’s women royals and commanders, Battlefield V’s women soldiers, 29

Women in Classical Video Games

Battlefield 1’s non-European troops) in media,13 or have critiqued the concept’s application in media on theoretical grounds.14 Revelations of widespread sexual harassment, sexism and racism in the games industry – and erasure or diminishment of women characters in their products – make discussions about the representation and the inclusion of women (both real and virtual) in video games even more necessary, if also incredibly poignant. That these allegations have been levied against the company that produces the highest-selling franchise of historical video games (Ubisoft and Assassin’s Creed, respectively; see Chapter 13)15 is perhaps even more tragic, though not wholly surprising, considering how the industry treats its workers regularly.16 It is important, in order to better appreciate the euphemistic nature of cries of ‘historical accuracy’, to look not only at whatever controversies have arisen under its banner, but to also look at what has escaped the notice of those exclaiming the famous mantra; how this demand for historical rigour has been applied and not applied to portrayals of women in ancient-period video games throughout their history. Knowing what historical inaccuracies have escaped public outcry, can provide important context with which to examine the controversies that have, indeed, arisen. This study seeks to provide a broad overview through time of the portrayals of women in video games set in ancient history. I will analyse these depictions in terms of their historical accuracy and inaccuracy (i.e. compared to more scholarly-sanctioned narratives, knowledge and understanding of historical reality).17 This analysis will be in prose, but will be coded into numerical variables for an overview of the most common historical inaccuracies that have been present in games throughout their history, their pervasiveness across time, as well as to track how prevalent major historical issues have been in the portrayal of women in these games. Although the present study mainly deals with historical concerns, a more thorough feminist analysis of these depictions is just as necessary and would be perfectly complementary; as would an analysis of the portrayal of ethnic, sexual and gender minorities. Moreover, while it would be possible to write entire in-depth publications on how even a single one of these games portrays its women (as many of the chapters in this volume do), for expediency, the content analysis will necessarily be more focused on the dry facts and more visible aspects of these portrayals; e.g. their appearance, actions and dialogue.

De Re Historica It is interesting to note that some game developers have for a long time been at odds with – and often pushed back against – the idea of more historically informed entertainment products.18 The developers of Rome II had previously eschewed the notion of ‘historical accuracy’ and stated that a ‘dogmatic adherence to the history books’ would have been detrimental to entertainment;19 a sentiment voiced for more than two decades by the developers of the Age of Empires series,20 as well as echoed in the subsequent controversy surrounding Rome II’s women generals.21 30

Analysis of Women in Video Games

However, even within the Total War series, a visible paradigm shift has occurred. The main scenario of 2004’s Rome: Total War begins in 270 bce , well into Ptolemaic rule in Egypt, but the game included no Greek names for Egyptian characters and no GraecoMacedonian troops; only native Egyptian troops plucked straight out of the New Kingdom period, as well as generals charging into battle riding a chariot.22 These were by no means even a fraction of all the historical inaccuracies in the game, however. Still, the sequel (Total War: Rome II) did away with many of the anachronisms that plagued its predecessor. This meant, for example, a more Graeco-Macedonian roster for the Ptolemies. Whether the developers opted to rectify these issues in the face of increasing expectations by consumers for ‘historical accuracy’, or due to additional resources available during development of – and thus, for historical research for – the game, or due to progress in the popular collective knowledge of Ptolemaic Egypt – or a combination of any and all factors – it is difficult to know. The end result was a game more in line with a more academically based understanding of historical reality, rather than general popular notions of it.23 Strangely, although the rallying cry for the vocal groups protesting against too many women in Rome II was that of ‘historical accuracy’, they seemed to have completely ignored clear anachronisms present since the release of the game. For example, how the capital of the Kingdom of Pontus is Sinope at the start of the main scenario, nearly a century earlier than the actual Pontic capture of Sinope in 183 bce .24 Although arriving at the same conclusion as previous commentators,25 it is evident that ‘historical accuracy’ was – logically – not a real concern during the women generals controversy, since many obvious factual errors in the game’s depiction of history had gone controversy-free. It was instead an excuse to give the conniption a façade of legitimacy; an excuse that at least one publication espoused uncritically.26

Caveat Emptor This discussion would not be complete without first addressing an important caveat; namely, that it is indeed the case that all ancient societies were patriarchal, that women occupied lower social positions than men of their respective classes and that they had fewer social and political opportunities. Moreover, most of our literary information for women in the ancient world comes from societies that were highly patriarchal: the Roman and Greek world. Moreover, it is mostly through the lenses of ancient Greek and Roman (male) authors that we receive the overwhelming majority of our literary information on women in other ancient societies. Most women were severely limited from positions of direct power in Greece and Rome, yet some were, nevertheless, visible, influential and important in their own right. However, in Rome II, a game set in the age of powerful Hellenistic queens and upperclass Roman women,27 even the most exceptionally powerful women – e.g. Cleopatra VII, Teuta, Berenice II, Etazeta – were rendered invisible. Only male characters had traits 31

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and skills, some of which could have something to do with what kind of person their wives (or lovers) were,28 but nothing else until a recent update.29 However, we must not forget that if online commentators wish to address only those historical issues that deal with women in particular, then their arbitrary demands make their actual concerns more transparent to any who wish to see them. Possible defences propped up to justify complaints of ‘historical inaccuracy’ towards the inclusion of women but not towards obvious factual errors might include claiming that these other errors are minor, or that the anachronisms are necessary for a fun experience, or that these inaccuracies do not break immersion.30 This arbitrariness can logically also justify whatever depiction of women is in the game for the same reasons. Saying, in essence, that – in the case of Rome II – women generals are in the game to make it more fun to play versus if there were none at all. This arbitrariness should be seen as a reflection of either the extent of the historical knowledge by whomever is making the argument, or their normative beliefs of ancient and modern society, or what their true fixations are (i.e. higher visibility of women in games). There is no logically consistent alternative interpretation. On the other hand, in relation to the Rome II controversy, some ancient history scholars were quoted expressing how the number of women in positions of power in the ancient world would be very small.31 This is the second caveat to be addressed. Although it is true that women were barred from direct political and military positions of power in Rome and Greece, the fact is that, for non-Romans and non-Greek societies, we do not know how many is too many women. What are we to make of statements such as those by Tacitus, who quoted Boudica saying that it was customary for Britons to be led to war by women,32 and yet he also claimed that the supporters of Venutius felt dishonour at the prospect of being ruled by Cartimandua, a woman?33 Or Polyaenus’ account of Cynane (daughter of Queen Audata and Philip II) who killed an Illyrian queen in battle, instructed her daughter Eurydice in military matters34 and was killed in battle against Alcetas, a brother of Perdiccas.35 That makes two Illyrian royal women commanding in battle and an additional two Illyrian queens, with Queen Teuta of the Ardiaei.36 Is this evidence of higher opportunities for (high-status) women in Illyria and Celtic Britain to participate and attain roles with military and political power (even if gained as widows of male monarchs)? How does this translate to a percentage usable for a game, something which requires specific numerical quantities?37 Making a perfect recreation of the ancient world is regrettably impossible. Lowering our standards to an acceptable simulation could still be unachievable in most contexts. All media – but especially audio-visual media such as that of most video games – has to make constant executive decisions regarding how to portray the ancient world. It is much easier to accurately recreate the buildings, roads and landmarks of an ancient city than it is accurately recreate its people (and its women), their thoughts and their behaviour. Even so, a myriad of expedient decisions on exterior and interior decorations of an ancient city’s buildings might still be required to build up what we have inherited as ruined foundations. Historical accuracy, authenticity or realism, is thus a very nebulous matter.38 32

Analysis of Women in Video Games

The final caveat is that the following analysis does not necessarily constitute a review of the quality of the games. Artistic license and anachronisms are not, ipso facto, a negative for game quality or enjoyment. Nevertheless, aiming for historical realism does not necessarily also mean uncritically recreating structures of oppression from the ancient world. Entertainment media does not need to unthinkingly regurgitate Greek and Roman ideas of misogyny, Orientalism, xenophobia, cultural supremacy or normative beliefs about women’s role in society, nor their modern equivalents.39

Methodology I endeavoured to obtain a list focused on the more popular video game titles based on classical antiquity, as the higher popularity would have provided larger opportunities for the development of controversies surrounding the historical accuracy of women. I defined classical antiquity as the period spanning from the seventh century bce to the fifth century ce , geographically focused (at least for this study) in north-west AfroEurasia. However, I still wished to obtain an exhaustive list to encompass as much games history as possible. To accomplish the goals of the search, I used three different sources to build the list of games. Although Wikipedia articles are not a highly reliable source of information, as they are user-created content, each article is tagged with the categories to which they belong. Pages that index a list of articles included in a category are automatically generated and are updated whenever a new article receives the relevant tag. The encyclopaedia has a number of different categories for games with historical (or historically-based) settings, from which I could obtain a list of titles that I could then filter further based on whether their settings were based on classical antiquity. This list would almost certainly be biased for a number of different reasons. Older games that waned in popularity may not have had an article in the wiki. In addition, since only the English-language site was consulted, games popular in other regions that were not as well known in English-speaking circles would also likely have been missed. However, I considered that these issues were an acceptable limitation for this study. In order to be as exhaustive as possible, I examined a total of five different categories of games with different types of historical settings.40 When a game belonging to a larger franchise was found, great care was taken that the rest of the titles of the franchise were also screened and included (if the setting was applicable), as some of the games in a franchise might not have had an individual article and thus could have been omitted. This search was conducted on 15 August 2020 (after the next two, due to its comprehensiveness). To obtain an even more exhaustive list, I performed another search by parsing through the first ten pages of the top-selling games with the ‘historical’ tag on the Steam store41 – one of the largest digital distribution platforms for video games. This would 33

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have the effect of complementing the previous list with more currently popular titles. This search was conducted on 30 July 2020. Finally, to include any relevant mobile games currently popular (which may not have had their own wiki article or have been available on Steam), I examined the ‘top games’, ‘top selling games’ and ‘top grossing games’ pages in the Android app store as well.42 This search was conducted on 2 August 2020. I decided to include games that had mythological and fantastical settings or elements clearly based on classical antiquity, rather than only those with settings firmly grounded in the historical past. The analysis for these would then compare the mythology and fantasy with its ancient counterpart, including how mythological women were portrayed and how closely those depictions match known ancient portrayals. After screening the list of titles, I obtained a total of 202 items, of which 22 were expansions, 1 was a remake, 7 were remasters, 5 were compilations of previous titles, 3 of those compilations were also remasters and 4 were user modifications (mods). This left a total of 169 individual video game titles. The dates of publication for the titles spanned the years 1982 to 2020 – nearly four decades – and included a varied array of genres and settings. Downloadable content (DLC) packs were not itemized separately from the base game, as these can be very numerous and be very small in scale and in scope, and I wanted to avoid additional complexity for the database. Soon after the searches were completed, however, the classical antiquity video game database Paizomen43 had its first release. When first becoming aware of the database in December 2020, I compared the two databases and found more than 50 titles in my own list that were not then present in Paizomen, whilst more than 100 from theirs were not present in mine, many of them because they lacked a Wikipedia article. The complementariness between both databases is evidence for both the strength and weaknesses of my search strategy, as I overlooked many games that did not have their own articles, but I was also thorough enough in the search to find a considerable number of titles not present in Paizomen. Reviewing the depictions of women in the list involved playing the game, gathering as much data as possible and annotating all the relevant historical details and issues of their portrayal. For several titles, however, alternative or additional sources were used for the annotation. This was done to overcome the problem of not having a specific console for a particular game, or if playing the game in its entirety was prohibitive, risking too many of the games in the list to go without reviewing. Time limitations would prevent a complete annotation of all the entries in the database for this preliminary study, but I still endeavoured to review as many titles as possible to present a broad enough overview. The sources of information used to assist in the annotation were recorded in a spreadsheet together with the annotations themselves. The qualitative analysis was then encoded into twenty-four different variables, which looked at the presence, absence and mixed results (values of 1, 0 and 0.5 in the spreadsheet) of historicity issues and other details, from whether the game had a fantasy setting, to whether Cleopatra was depicted exclusively in traditional Egyptian regalia (see Table 2.1). 34

Analysis of Women in Video Games

Table 2.1 List of variables used for the summary quantitative analysis Variables

Definition

No mention of women (in a classical antiquity context)

There was not a single mention or depiction of nonmythological/fantastical women in the game.

Only mentions (no depictions)

Non-mythological/fantasy women were not depicted graphically, only mentioned (does not apply if game is text-based).

Fantasy / mythology setting

Whether the game’s setting is fantasy based on the ancient world or on ancient mythology.

Deities

At least one depiction of a goddess.

Mythological women

At least one depiction of a woman from mythology (e.g. Helen, Hippolyta).

Fantasy/mythological creatures

At least one depiction of a creature that has some human female characteristics (e.g. Medusa, Harpies).

Non-mythological human women

At least one depiction of a human woman that is not mythological (though can be fictional).

Women royals/rulers

At least one depiction of a woman as a ruler or a member of a noble or royal family.

Playable women characters

Whether the player is able to play the game in its entirety (or nearly so) as a woman. If the gender of the player character is not specified by the game, or women are only playable for a portion of the game, then use 0.5.

Very few to no minor issues*

Whether the reviewer considers the game to have less than a few minor issues, based on the text reviewing the depictions of women in the game.

Very few to no major issues*

Whether the reviewer considers the game to have less than a few major issues. This is independent from the previous one, as a game can have no minor, but many major issues.

Several major issues*

This variable allows for explicitly distinguishing games with few major issues, games with many major issues and games where neither is applicable. Since some games could have no issues simply because there were no women depicted, this could have led to difficulties during analysis.

Historicity issues not exclusive to women’s portrayal*

Whether problems in the depiction of women were part of more general historicity issues with the game. Since some games are mythological in setting, this may not apply, though it was left to the discretion of the reviewer.

Warrior women

At least one depiction of a woman specializing in combat or as a member of the military (including command). (Continued) 35

Women in Classical Video Games

Table 2.1 (Continued) Variables

Definition

Amazons

At least one depiction of Amazons (based on the Greek myth).

Boob armour

At least one instance of armour that has been shaped and fitted to conform to breasts as bra cups would, providing a similar outline. Very impractical for combat, no examples known from classical antiquity and employed only for sexualization.44

Bikini / bra armour

Similar to the previous one. At least one instance of armour in the form of an actual bra (i.e. without abdomen protection) and sometimes including a bikini bottom.45

Sexualized (ahistorical) clothing* A more general category of the former, though it does not include armour. Whether there is at least one instance of highly revealing or sexualized clothing that is not known from the historical record, or is altered from actual historical clothing. Other ahistorical clothing

At least one instance of some piece of clothing that is neither historical nor a slight alteration of – or addition to – historical clothing.

Egyptian-only Cleopatra

Whether Cleopatra is depicted in the game exclusively as an Egyptian royal, with the style and trappings of pre-Achaemenid Egyptian Pharaohs, but not also Hellenistic royal styles.

Important omission of women*

At least one instance of a famous historical woman that, in the opinion of the reviewer, constitutes an important omission.

Other historicity issues*

Any issues not belonging to the previous categories.

Women as villager / citizens / player advisers

At least one depiction of women in the role of villagers or non-player character in settled areas, or as an individual adviser to the player.

No major additions (for expansions / mods / etc.)

Whether there were no new noteworthy depictions of women in the relevant mod, expansion, remaster, remake or compilation from the base game(s). This should be mutually exclusive with all the ‘issue’ variables (since no additions implies there is no depiction to take issue with).

Note: * Qualitative variables or variables based on the author’s personal criteria.

All annotations of game data were performed by the author and no intercoder reliability analyses were performed. It is very likely other researchers could disagree with some of the assessments in the database; this study can only portray the view of the singular reviewer. However, great care was taken to ensure the issues mentioned and problems highlighted were fair and well informed by current historical knowledge. 36

Analysis of Women in Video Games

Nevertheless, it is not unlikely that there are errors stemming from a lack of deeper expertise in one of the many fields of ancient history and archaeology that were relevant for the list of games analysed. Out of the 202 items in the list, I reviewed a total of 106 completely and reviewed a total of 8 partially, leaving 88 items pending review. There were 3 titles that were not yet released or playable in their entirety before the searches were concluded and an additional 5 were online games that were discontinued or no longer playable. I did not review these additional 8 titles for this initial study. This left 80 items that were not yet reviewed (of which 4 were compilations, remasters or expansions). The spreadsheet that contains all the data used in this study is freely accessible from an Open Science Framework repository.46 I summarize the results obtained for this preliminary analysis in the following section.

Results Of the 114 reviewed titles, 19 did not include nor mention any non-mythological women in a classical antiquity context; with an additional title (Caesar II) depicting only a single woman in a very specific context, leaving 94 that included women. An additional 8 titles only made mention of women in in-game text or narration, with 2 more only depicting women in cinematics and 1 more using portraits of men for women rulers, with the remaining 83 titles depicting women (and female-coded mythological creatures). On the other hand, 16 titles depicted goddesses, while 21 included women based on ancient mythology and legend, with an additional 5 only making mention of them. Mythological and fantasy creatures with female attributes (e.g. the sphinx, the Gorgons, nymphs) appeared in 14 of the games reviewed – and perhaps also 1 more, but it is unclear – virtually always as enemies (see Chapter 4). Of the 94 titles, 22 had a fantasy or mythological setting, whilst an additional 11 made use of fantasy and mythological elements, but remained somewhat grounded in historical reality. Out of the 114 titles reviewed, 68 titles included women that were not based on myth. Out of these, 44 included women as part of royalty or as rulers. The player was allowed to play 25 video games as a woman character and 8 more titles either only had this possibility for a fraction of the game, or did not explicitly state the gender of the player character. For all these 33 titles, playing as a woman was only an alternative option to playing as a man, except for Xena: Warrior Princess, which only had a woman as protagonist. In evaluating the historical accuracy of the portrayals of women, 16 titles had very few or no issues, neither minor nor major. An additional 25 had few or no major issues, but a not insignificant amount of minor issues. There were 28 more titles that had several major historicity issues with their portrayals of women. Moreover, the major historicity issues of 27 titles out of the 25 titles with minor and 28 titles with major issues were deemed to be not exclusive to their portrayal of women, which would imply that the 37

Women in Classical Video Games

Figure 2.1 Yearly breakdown of: (a) Video game titles divided by the number and severity of historicity issues, as well as the number of titles that allow playing as a woman for the entirety of the game; and (b) The titles that do not portray any human women, those titles that do, number of titles that use ahistorical clothing for the sexualization of women and the number of titles that depict Cleopatra exclusively as a traditional Egyptian monarch. Note: The number of titles in (b) does not necessarily equal the number of titles reviewed, as the variables overlap (e.g. if Cleopatra is depicted, then by definition, non-mythological human women are as well). Note also that the titles that have not yet been reviewed do not include games that are unavailable or were to be released after the date of the search. problems of the remaining 26 titles were. There were 20 more titles that were either expansions, collections, remasters or remakes that did not contain any new portrayals of women. See Figure 2.1(a) for a yearly breakdown. Of the 83 games depicting women, 31 included women warriors, and 12 of these included Amazons. Out of the 31 titles, 20 used some form of boob or bikini armour; 38

Analysis of Women in Video Games

armour moulded to follow the contour of a woman’s breasts like the cups of a bra and sometimes coupled with a bikini bottom.47 When it came to including clothing not based on historical apparel (often done to sexualize women’s bodies), 34 games were noted. An additional 26 titles used clothing without historical precedents, or historical clothing modified to such an extent that it lost its semblance to the original. Moreover, all the games that portrayed Cleopatra VII, visually depicted her as a quintessential Egyptian monarch with little to no Hellenistic influence (for an analysis of one such title, see Chapter 11). See Figure 2.1(b) for a breakdown of some of the aforementioned issues per year of release. Women can sometimes be added as nameless non-player characters in populated areas. In addition, in strategy video games, women are in many cases included as one of the different available appearance variants of the base ‘worker’ unit used for resourcegathering and construction (or a separate unit, as in 0 A.D.). Women can also be added as advisers for the player. Both previous points apply to 34 titles in the list. Although not exhaustively noted, 7 games made important omissions of known historical women whose exclusion was difficult to justify. Finally, 21 items on the list suffered from historicity issues that were not captured by the previous variables, such as Cleopatra ruling several centuries before her birth (e.g. Aggressors: Ancient Rome). I have reported all the results from the coded variables used for annotation, and though many more specific analyses could be made (e.g. how often is Cleopatra the sole woman depicted in a game), for the sake of brevity I will proceed to discuss the results obtained for this preliminary study.

Discussion In this study, I have examined the portrayal of women in video games with a setting based on classical antiquity. Through an extensive search, I compiled a list of 202 titles, from which, for this preliminary analysis, I either partially or completely annotated and analysed a total of 114. The results revealed that throughout the history of the depiction of women in classical antiquity video games, major historical inaccuracies were not uncommon. I found that a large majority of the more than 100 video games titles analysed here actually depict women, but a not insignificant portion of these included only a mention of women in text, and some more did not even accomplish this. A very small number of titles allowed players to play the entirety of the game as a woman, but in virtually all cases, this was only as an alternative to playing as a man. We can see by looking at the yearly pattern (Figure 2.1(a)) that the inclusion of playable women characters again shows only a very mild increase in recent years, although the data is admittedly few and incomplete. A large number of depictions of women suffered from various levels of historical issues, ranging from very minor to major. Clothing was one of the largest sources of 39

Women in Classical Video Games

anachronisms and a particular focus of the review process. This may have been due to clothing being the most easily accessible and visible aspect of graphical portrayals of women. Moreover, this could also suggest that the inclusion of women in video games often culminates in them being used only as props, or having so little importance in the game that their appearance ends up being the only aspect of their portrayal that can be noted. In many cases, problems with women’s clothing were brought about from attempts by developers to sexualize women’s bodies at the expense of historical reality. More subdued forms of artistic license were noted, many of which were not written down as problems specifically, yet the number of issues with women’s clothing remained not trivial. Moreover, a similar issue quite frequently encountered was women’s armour in the form of bikinis, bras, or cuirasses with tight contouring of the breasts, sometimes leaving the midriff exposed, and also often with no protection for the chest area above the breasts. Commonly known as boob armour or bikini armour, such attire is a staple in other forms of fantasy media,48 but it is decidedly ahistorical for classical antiquity, where depictions of women in armour from the era show them invariably wearing the same armour as men. Moreover, as is perhaps the case with men, a large number of women that were actually included in game are royalty, monarchs or some form of ruler, with lower-class women often there only as decoration or as a secondary appearance for citizens and labourers. A very large number of games that showed women royals or rulers included Cleopatra VII, who was exclusively depicted as a traditional native Egyptian Pharaoh and never as a Hellenistic queen from a Macedonian dynasty, as she is commonly shown in her coinage. These depictions also usually characterized Cleopatra as a seductress, sometimes lascivious, sometimes cunning. Some of these depictions also involved a great deal of sexualization, fantasy clothing, if not also Orientalist tropes of Eastern decadence and tyranny. In general, however, the portrayals of women in games has historically been very limited and games have often failed to portray women even when their inclusion is highly justified (whether a justification is needed is another issue). Often, even well known – or exceptionally powerful – women are simply elided from games. In summary, there was a small number of titles with very few problems in their portrayal of women. A larger number still only suffered from a number of minor issues or one or two major issues. However, a slightly larger number of titles than the latter had very many major issues in their portrayals of women. When broken down by year (see Figure 2.1(a)), there is no clear pattern where the amount of games with major issues has been declining in recent years; rather, it appears stable throughout. Additional work with the titles that were not reviewed for these initial results – as well as the games from the Paizomen database that had not been included – should provide an even more in-depth picture of the evolution of women’s portrayal in ancient history-based video games. Moreover, similar studies focusing on ethnic, sexual and gender minorities could prove a valuable addition to the work presented here. 40

Analysis of Women in Video Games

However, the preliminary evidence is already suggestive for the notion that the portrayal of women in video games has been consistently fraught with a lack of historical accuracy across time. Although there have been some welcomed advances by game developers of prominent franchises to present a vision of women in the ancient world less based on modern tropes, progress has not been as fast as it could have been. In many cases, no progress has been made at all in the industry (e.g. boob armour). Nearly all video games based on the classical world even to this day do not let women be their main characters, nor guide the design and story of the game. If they do, they do so only as an alternative to playing as a man. Nevertheless, progress in women’s representation cannot be achieved without also addressing the rampant discrimination and abuse in the video game industry,49 a much more consequential matter. Recent controversies have shown that the inclusion and portrayal of women in video games with a setting based on classical antiquity is just as linked to modern patriarchal ideas of gender roles for women, as they are to modern ideas of ancient patriarchal society, and less so to the real patriarchal norms of classical antiquity. The rallying cry of historical accuracy has been used to create a backlash against larger and more numerous roles for women in ancient-era (and most other types of) video games. However, throughout the history of these games, women’s portrayals (and those of history in general) have nearly always been loaded with errors, omissions and ahistorical elements, with few demanding historical accuracy until women were more visibly depicted in prominent and historically relevant positions of political, military and individual agency.

Notes 1. Scott-Jones (2018b), Watts (2018) and Grayson (2018). 2. See, e.g. Artemisia: Hdt. 8.68 and Polyaenus, Strat. 8.53; Rhodogune, Mania, Amage, Cynane: Polyaenus, Strat. 8.26, 8.54, 8.56, 8.60; Boudica and the claim that it was usual for Celtic Britons to be led by women in war: Tac., Ann. 14.35. 3. MacCallum-Stewart and Parsler (2007), Gee (2008: 197–8), Chapman (2016: 3–29) and Clare (2021: 17–21). 4. Cf. Morris-Suzuki (2005), Chapman (2016: 3–29) and Clare (2021: 17–21). 5. See Morris-Suzuki (2005: 21–5). 6. Heighton (2017 and Boseley (2017). 7. See, e.g. Cassidy, Faucher and Jackson (2014: 279–99); Powell, Scott and Henry (2020: 199–223). 8. Nadim and Fladmoe (2019: 254–8), the study also found that rates of group-based harassment (i.e. based on gender, ethnicity, sexual orientation, etc.) were comparable between men and women, with men being targeted due to their ethnicity or skin colour more often (perhaps due to fewer possibilities for gender-based attacks). 9. Ibid. 10. George Veletsianos, Houlden, Hodson and Gosse (2018: 4689–708). 11. Mortensen (2018: 787–806) and Massanari (2020).

41

Women in Classical Video Games 12. Crecente (2013) and Tucker (2019). 13. Reeve (2018). 14. Inderwildi (2018). 15. Tyrer (2019). 16. Semuels (2019), Campbell (2019) and O’Connor (2020). 17. What Chapman (2016: 3–29) calls ‘content analysis’. 18. See McCall (2012: 16–17), Chapman (2016: 3–29) and Clare (2021: 17–21). 19. Brown (2013). 20. Games Web (1997) and Rausch (2005). 21. Chalk (2018). 22. TWC Wiki, ‘Egypt (RTW Faction)’ (2021). 23. But see Chapman (2016: 3–29) and Clare (2021: 17–21). 24. Polyb. 23.9 and Strabo 12.3.11. 25. Scott-Jones (2018b) and Grayson (2018). 26. Murphy (2018). 27. Pomeroy (1995: 120–89). 28. Curiously, it is possible for a Roman man to have a wife who had become inebriated, see: www.honga.net, ‘Drunken Wife – Rome – Total War: Rome II’ (Total War: Royal Military Academy, n.d.); a crime that could be punishable by death: Pomeroy (1995: 153) and Levick (2012: 101). 29. Scott-Jones (2018a). 30. I.e. a video game analogue of suspension of disbelief; Clare (2021: 4–5). 31. Murphy (2018). 32. Tac., Ann. 14.35. 33. Tac., Ann. 12.40. 34. By extension, Cynane would have had to somehow learn – or be taught – this knowledge. Pomeroy (1990: 6) suggests Audata was this teacher. 35. Polyaenus, Strat. 8.60; killed by Alcetas: Diod. Sic. 19.52.5. 36. Polyb. 2.4. 37. McCall (2012). 38. See Inderwildi (2018), Chapman (2016: 3–29) and Clare (2021: 17–21). 39. Although their portrayal as a vehicle for critically exploring ancient bigotry could, nevertheless, be interesting. 40. ‘Category:Video Games Set in Antiquity’ (Wikipedia, 27 July 2020), ‘Category:Panhistorical Video Games’ (Wikipedia, 3 March 2007), ‘Category:Video Games with Historical Settings’ (Wikipedia, 3 August 2020), ‘Category:Video Games Set in Ancient Rome’ (Wikipedia, 10 February 2013) and ‘Category:Video Games Set in the Roman Empire’ (Wikipedia, 10 February 2019). 41. Steam (n.d.). 42. Google, ‘Android Apps on Google Play’ (Google Play), see: https://play.google.com/store/apps/ top/category/GAME (accessed 2 August 2020); and Google, ‘Android Apps on Google Play’ (Google Play), see: https://play.google.com/store/apps/collection/cluster?hl=en_US (accessed 42

Analysis of Women in Video Games 2 August 2020), although note that the URL for the top-selling and top-grossing games pages were the same, I therefore only cite it once. 43. Vandewalle (n.d.). 44. Toler (2019: 6). 45. Ibid. 46. Orellana Figueroa (2021). 47. Toler (2019: 6). 48. Ibid. 49. Schreier (2020), O’Connor (2020) and Hernandez (2020).

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CHAPTER 3 DANGEROUS DEFAULTS: DEMOGRAPHICS AND IDENTITIES WITHIN AND WITHOUT VIDEO GAMES Marcie Gwen Persyn

Introduction1 As has been established in this volume, video games are overwhelmingly androcentric:2 from concept design and marketing methods that cater to the male gaze,3 to online fora and in-game chats that can be markedly aggressive towards those perceived as ‘interlopers,’4 even to the recruitment and support of the most skilled gamers and programmers in e-sports and game development companies.5 Much of this is anecdotally known to, subconsciously understood by, or systemically inflicted upon gamers of all gender identities. Even as gender parity among gamers comes closer to becoming a reality in certain circumstances,6 the games themselves continue to presume and promote male protagonists both within video games and in their adjacent advertisements.7 The resulting discrepancy between the demographics of gamers and the demographics of games perpetuates a gaming community that is unwelcoming, if not actively hostile, to new gamers who do not identify as male. By marginalizing female and non-binary characters and diminishing their presence in both plot narratives and world design,8 the games themselves become either loci of fetishization or isolation – both of which promote sexism, misogyny and even abuse.9 Historical/archaeological video games, as imaginative renderings of a past far removed both culturally and temporally, may be even more at risk of perpetrating gender disparities in their presentation of heroic golden ages desperately lacking in heroines. To further complicate the question of how women are represented within historical/ archaeological video games, one might pose several related questions: how many women included in historical/archaeological video games are playable avatars? How many are non-player characters (NPCs) with substantial interaction with the avatar? And how many may be considered mere ‘mob’ characters, included either as unspeaking background figures, or awarded only a single (often archetypical or even nonsensical) line of dialogue? The answers to these questions reflect not only the amount of effort put forth by the game designers, but also the extent and complexity of engagement that the user experiences with in-game women. The inclusion of female figures of every type – as avatars, primary characters, important NPCs and even as mob characters – can enhance or undermine the game’s environment for certain gamers, functionally forming a world that is either welcoming or hostile to those who identify as/with women. 44

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In this chapter, I will sample five popular historical/archaeological video games that were launched and received critical success within the five-year span of 2013–17. After compiling the statistics of how female playable avatars and NPCs are represented within these games in proportion to their male counterparts, I will utilize this data to analyse how designers depict women in each of these games, and thus how gamers are encouraged to respond to female characters. Through this information, we may begin to understand more fully the ramifications of the inclusions, as well as the exclusions, of women from these games.

Method of survey and collected demographic data The five games examined in this study – God of War: Ascension, Total War: Rome II, Ryse: Son of Rome, Apotheon and Assassin’s Creed: Origins – were chosen as a sample set in order to examine a variety of developers, creative teams, gaming platforms and genres. These five games show diverse ancient settings, ranging from mythical Greece (God of War: Ascension and Apotheon), to late Hellenistic Egypt (Assassin’s Creed: Origins), to the Roman republic and early empire (Total War: Rome II and Ryse: Son of Rome, respectively). Their content blends historical fact with supernatural legend. Almost all of these games, with Apotheon the sole exception, have since released updates and extended downloadable content packaged (DLC) to be addressed in the subsequent analysis section; Tables 3.1, 3.2 and 3.3, however, reflect data extracted from the original versions of the games. While each of these games borrows from the ancient Mediterranean world in their subject matter, they are representative of a variety of developmental teams, gaming platforms and design criteria. God of War: Ascension, Total War: Rome II and Assassin’s Creed: Origins are all serialized games from well-established development studios, while Ryse: Son of Rome and Apotheon are stand-alone games, with the latter being the product of independent video game developer, Alientrap. Furthermore, these games represent various genres, which in turn alter the engagement of the player with the video game environments and characters. Both God of War: Ascension and Ryse: Son of Rome are ‘hack-and-slash’ role-playing games (RPGs), a term of art signifying that the majority of the gameplay will not only be violent, but gruesomely so. Assassin’s Creed: Origins, too, is an RPG, yet it is sub-designated as a ‘stealth’ game – as such, the gameplay is more often based on puzzles or other cerebral skills, rather than strictly upon violence or buttonmashing. On the other hand, Total War: Rome II is classified as a ‘real-time strategy game’, a genre that gamifies battle but typically avoids gore. Apotheon, as a ‘metroidvania,’ is designed to be a throwback to games of the 1980s, with the minimalist interface rendered as a two-dimensional field through which the avatar moves. As in other forms of media, genre affects not only aesthetics, but also game content, context and even user expectations as to how violent, fast-paced, technically or mentally challenging the experience of gameplay can be; it is also a key criterion upon which gamers base their decision of whether to pick up or pass on a video game.10 The pressures and biases of each of these games are thus unique, as is the data they provide on video game demographics. 45

Women in Classical Video Games

Table 3.1 Video game development information Game

Release date

Developer

Genre

Platform

God of War: Ascension

March 2013

SIE (Sony) Santa Monica Studio

RPG; hack and slash

PlayStation 3

Total War: Rome II

September 2013

The Creative Assembly

Real-time strategy

PC

Ryse: Son of Rome

November 2013

Crytek

RPG; hack and slash

PC; Xbox

Apotheon

February 2015

Alientrap

Metroidvania

PC; PlayStation 4

Assassin’s Creed: Origins

September 2017

Ubisoft

RPG; stealth

PC; PlayStation 4; Xbox One

A brief overview of key information for each game is provided in Table 3.1. For this study, sample playthroughs were used to analyse the avatars, world-building, locations and dialogue from each of the five games surveyed; data was recorded and used to calculate how many female characters are encountered by gamers within the first hour of gameplay. The information was gathered through analysis of recordings of gameplay posted on a range of YouTube gaming channels. The first hour of gameplay is a type of crucible, often indicative of the world-building, gameplay and environment that a player will choose to expose themselves to for the duration of the game’s storyline(s), quest(s) or mission(s). In other words, it is within the first hour of gameplay that a player determines whether to continue playing or find another, potentially more welcoming, gaming environment.11 First-hour hooks tend to correspond to Game Approachability Principles12 – which adhere to gaming heuristics such as scaffolding of tasks, sandboxing and knowledge transfer, among others – and to the formation of ‘holdouts’, suspended gratifications that encourage a sense of interest or intrigue in the players, ultimately ‘buy[ing] the game a second chance’.13 Yet, it is not just gameplay itself that can win or lose a gaming audience: matters of plot intrigue, design aesthetics and sense of fun are equally critical. So, too, is the ambient world design and the characters portrayed within it. The data provided below in Table 3.2 reflect the estimated number of encounters with male and female characters that appear within the first hour of gameplay for each of the five games surveyed here.14 Only human(oid) characters were surveyed, including gods and goddesses. Non-human(oid) entities encountered by the players were omitted, while monsters that were previously human, such as the NPCs evinced by the first hour of God of War: Ascension, were counted in the final tally. Repeated instances of recorded dialogue and reappearances of characters (where determinably the same NPCs) were recorded only as one instance. Likewise, as this is a study focusing on gameplay rather than on video game cinematics, introductory films were not accounted for in the data below. Once the gamer has control of the character, however, the count begins; therefore, I have included in Table 3.2 those characters within 46

Dangerous Defaults

Table 3.2 Statistics of character gender identities in first hour of play Game

Male:Female avatars

Male:Female Male:Female Male:Female Other data mobs NPCs characters

God of War: Ascension

Male only (Kratos)

16:0

51:5

3:2

N/A

Total War: Rome II

Male only (Silanus)

~4,500:150

7:0

3:0

N/A

Ryse: Son of Rome

Male only (Marius)

341:5

143:10

6:3

2D-animated army not included

Apotheon

Male only (Nikandreos)

140:21

16:4

3:116

35:11 male:female corpses

Assassin’s Creed: Origins

Male only (Bayek)

8:5

163:7417

7:2

N/A

in-game cutscenes. The depth of character interaction is noted in the table by distinctions between ‘avatars’ (playable characters), ‘mobs’ (unspeaking, background characters), NPCs (unnamed characters with dialogue or direct interaction with the avatar, including combatants) and ‘primary characters’ (non-playable, named characters with plot significance). The numbers in Table 3.2 are given as totals, rather than reduced proportions, in order to maintain the scale of the design of each game. Though more than half of these games are RPGs, a genre of video game that is often popular among female gamers,18 there is still an appalling lack of female characters at every level of game design. None of these games allow female primary avatars, even in multiplayer modes or in the DLC packages subsequently released. There are exceedingly few primary characters portrayed by women, and the few included are almost unfailingly hyper-sexualized, victimized, villainous, or some mixture of the three. Combatant NPCs, with the singular exception of the Fury Megara in God of War: Ascension, are all male. And while female merchants and civilians occasionally appear as voiced NPCs in Ryse: Son of Rome, Apotheon, and Assassin’s Creed: Origins, they are still outnumbered by male counterparts. Even unvoiced mob characters, dead or alive, are predominantly designed to inhabit male bodies. It is illuminating to compare these first-hour impressions with statistics drawn from the game as a whole. One means to measure this is to analyse the voice cast credited in each game, comparing not only the overall gender distributions of the characters reflected by the gender identities of the actors cast, but also the methods used to provide these actors with acclaim in the end-game credits. That is, some voice actors give life to primary characters or figures with whom the avatar interacts regularly, typically ‘named’ roles; other voice actors provide ‘additional voices’ (or the equally vague ‘voice talent’), and give the rote remarks of myriad mob characters and NPCs throughout the game.19 47

Women in Classical Video Games

Table 3.3 Statistics of English voice cast credits Game God of War: Ascension21 22

Male voice actors

Female voice actors

Named male characters

Named female characters

25

8

12

6

23

Total War: Rome II

65

29

0

0

Ryse: Son of Rome24

34

5

8

4

26

15

16

9

60

32

14

5

Apotheon25 Assassin’s Creed: Origins

26

There are limitations to this analysis, however, as the gender identities of the voice actors do not necessarily reflect the identities that they voice – a single voice actor may lend their talent to many characters of a range of gender expressions within the game. The data in Table 3.3 is thus inferential rather than indicative, but set alongside the information from the game visuals can produce a clearer representation of the video game environment.20 Table 3.3 provides only the statistics for the English voice cast, though many of these games employed actors from around the world for alternative language options. Data for this table was gathered from The Internet Movie Database (IMDb) on 20 August 2020 and was cross-referenced against the end-game credits. The games examined here vary in the number of both actors and characters; God of War: Ascension had the smallest voice cast (a mere thirty-three actors), while Assassin’s Creed: Origins had by far the most actors on staff (ninety-two in total). But all five of these games are unequivocally similar in the vast disparity of male to female actors and characters. The male voice cast of each of these games outnumber their female colleagues at a scale of almost 2:1, even in the most balanced examples. By extension, then, distinct voices of women may account for up to 33 per cent of either the gaming environment overall or at least of cut-scenes with dialogue. This statistic is far lower in God of War: Ascension (where female actors provide 24 per cent of the voice cast) and Ryse: Son of Rome (where female actors represent a mere 13 per cent),27 though it is somewhat improved in Apotheon (37 per cent) and Assassin’s Creed: Origins (35 per cent). These statistics are, on the whole, consistent with the gender distribution of the graphic designs of these games as represented in Table 3.2, indicating that the first hour of gameplay analysed here is indeed indicative of broader patterns upheld throughout the games: female characters are disproportionately absent from the games’ world-building, both visually and audially, excluded from both primary and secondary roles. These are both crucial aspects of gameplay, as it is just as important to represent women among the primary characters as it is for them to form a meaningful chorus of NPCs in the background. Without the former, there is little, if any, meaningful interaction with female figures; without the latter, the created environment is overwhelmingly masculine, as unrealistic as it is unnuanced its unilaterality. What is going on in these games to cause such disproportion? 48

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Where are all the women? God of War: Ascension is the seventh game in its series, and while it serves as a prequel to the franchise, the game, nevertheless, begins in medias res and offers little exposition. The villains introduced by the narrator in the opening sequence are the Furies, whose character design is somehow both hypersexualized and graphically insectoid.28 Kratos, the main character, is a widely recognized misanthrope for the majority of the series, and thus his interactions with other NPCs are mostly limited to slaughter, indifference and casual sex; by extension, there are few NPCs within the game other than those humanoids that Kratos brutally murders. Because of the dearth of human characters of any kind, the statistics given above may seem less dire than many other games, but this data is somewhat skewed by the game’s delivery of plot. Essentially, the opening arc offers a mano a mano revenge story, and thus the disproportionate lack of women throughout this game is disguised by the simple fact that the villain of the first arc is herself female. The ratio of secondary mobs and voiced NPCs gives a more accurate indication of the game’s representation of women, with zero female mob characters in the opening and a mere five speaking female NPCs, compared to more than fifty male NPCs that Kratos encounters. To exacerbate this further, all but two of the male NPCs are enemies that Kratos fights against; and all of his enemies, except Megara herself, are likewise male. Aside from Megara, the main villain, and Kratos’ unspeaking ghost wife, the only female NPCs within the first hour of gameplay are illusionary, mostly nude women who attempt to seduce Kratos so they can kill him. It is not a subtle dichotomy that men equal combat and women equal sex; but then this is not a subtle game (see Figure 3.1). Total War: Rome II is, for two main reasons, an outlier from the other games in this study: first, it is generically distinct in that it is a turn-based strategy game; second, as a

Figure 3.1 In a beguiling illusion, Kratos is nearly seduced and entrapped by the Furies. This cut scene marks the conclusion of the first chapter of the game and plays just after Kratos’ defeat of the game’s first boss. Other than the and Kratos’ late wife, these are the only five women present in the first hour of gameplay. Reproduced in accordance with fair use.

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Women in Classical Video Games

campaign-based game, the NPCs (troops) are almost entirely mob characters without names, voices or interaction with the gamer aside from carrying out the commands given. Despite the beautiful rendering of Italian geography, the NPCs remain largely faceless, and the few speaking characters – such as the avatar, Silanus, or the senator who orders him about throughout the tutorial of the game – lack distinct personalities. Nevertheless, it is striking that there are absolutely no female characters in the first hour of gameplay, either rendered within battle, portrayed inside defended towns or even illustrated on the transitional loading screens. Between campaigns, while the gamer explores the main maps and carries out various upgrades, all verbal interactions are similarly with male artisans (despite these liminal periods representing reprieves from the ‘total war’ from which the franchise draws its name). This is a game of faceless NPCs and expository main characters, yet it is, nonetheless, unceasingly and monotonously full of men. Still, this may be an improvement over the facile and offensive portrayal of women within God of War: Ascension.29 The beginning of Ryse: Son of Rome is a non-linear, flash-forward scene from the narrative that anticipates the final arc of the game (in which the avatar, Marius, attempts to assassinate Nero). In these first minutes of gameplay, hundreds of NPCs with few features to distinguish them from one another pour into the city of Rome. Yet another all-male melee ensues in the game’s second chapter, as Marius recounts to a cornered Nero the attack against his family that resulted in his joining the fourteenth legion and shipping off to Britannia to take revenge on ‘barbarians’. The episode is repeated yet again upon Marius’ ship’s crossing the channel, only to discover their port has been taken over by the very same enemy. It is a repeating formula that has room for male allies, male enemies and male role models, but little else. The first mention (and subsequent appearance) of a woman in Ryse: Son of Rome is Marius’ mother, Septima, who is introduced only to be murdered offstage alongside her nameless daughter – all within ten minutes of her entrance. Marius’ patron goddess makes a mysterious first impression upon him just after, and in the context of the bloodied and pillaged Roman Forum, one finds a few female corpses, but no other women are even referenced in the opening hour, despite the hundreds of male NPCs the game generates for you to fight against and alongside. As Beavers has argued, there are three stereotypical tropes evidenced by the female characters in Ryse: Son of Rome: damsels in distress, sex objects,or victimized avengers responding to past violence or abuse, with occasional transition or overlap between categories.30 Apotheon’s primary characters, on the other hand, are much closer to reaching gender parity, but the NPCs and mob characters are another story. As in Ryse: Son of Rome, the game’s opening sequence is the sacking of the hero’s city, here called ‘Dion’; in this first chapter, the hero Nikandreos takes up arms against entirely male opponents, while likewise being supported by an all-male set of allies. Nude female corpses litter the scene in rare moments, but overall very few women are to be found in this artistic representation of mythical Greece. Although the narrator of the game is female (Apotheon’s introduction is provided by Hera, who takes Nikandreos on as her Jason-like protégé), the next voice of a woman that can be heard is an NPC figure lamenting, ‘Why are the gods doing this?’ 50

Dangerous Defaults

Figure 3.2 This image captures Nikandreos’ pivotal confrontation of the first boss, Ophion the Tyrant (the Gorgon-shielded figure). A female voice begs for mercy as Nikandreos approaches from the left; the camera pans over, revealing the corpses of townspeople, one of whom is a nude woman, before showing the woman kneeling before Ophion and the two onlooking males. Reproduced courtesy Alientrap.

Having escaped from Dion, rescuing what few survivors he can, Nikandreos then ascends to Olympus. In this relatively more peaceful space, there are slightly more female characters who are depicted either as going about marketplace tasks (carrying objects, meandering and selling alongside their male counterparts), or weeping and running in circles should the gamer choose to act aggressively against the NPCs. It is an overwhelmingly masculine space, in which gender normativity is oppressively manifested – the men go to war, while the women stay at home, in the market, under masculine protection. Nevertheless, considering that Apotheon’s overall plot has much in common with that of God of War: Ascension,31 it should be noted that this game does explore further female characterizations in primary roles, such as that of Hera, Demeter and Persephone. Assassin’s Creed: Origins is a different model entirely from Apotheon. With more traditional RPG features, such as cutscenes and side-quests available for the player, most of the NPCs within the first hour of gameplay of Assassin’s Creed: Origins are voiced, though few are named or highly relevant to the plot. Like Apotheon, however, Assassin’s Creed: Origins only includes male antagonists in the first hour of gameplay, nor is there any indication at this early stage of the game of women in positions of authority, be that positive or negative. The two named female characters encountered by Bayek in this opening are, respectively, a healer and a victim requesting help – two overused female stereotypes, indeed. Aya, Bayek’s competent female counterpart, is mentioned in vague reminiscences, but these do not indicate that she will be anything other than a love interest for the main character (effectively short-changing the character, who becomes a deuteragonist, or alternative avatar, later in the game). Ptolemy is mentioned only to be cursed, without any reference to his far more impactful sister-wife, Cleopatra VII (though 51

Women in Classical Video Games

she does eventually appear). But while primary female characterization may still be reduced to overplayed tropes, the inclusion of female NPCs within the game’s ambient environment is strikingly more balanced than any other game surveyed here, and the inclusion of, albeit gender-stereotyped, female characters makes for a welcome change. The observable patterns noted here, however, are troubling. It is almost as if these historical/archaeological games are themselves buried in history, with outdated sensibilities catering to the male gaze. As we enter a new decade, one hopes to see a shift in these prejudices in historical/archaeological video games. While the designers of God of War, which released a new installment in 2018, notably remain opposed to generating a female avatar (citing Kratos’ laughable ‘character development’ as their rationale32), Ubisoft has taken a different route: their recent Assassin’s Creed game, Odyssey, enables the gamer to choose between siblings Kassandra and Alexios as their avatar; its sequel, Assassin’s Creed: Valhalla, also features both male and female avatars.33 If these games are any indication, concerns of gender diversity have already gained traction among development companies.

The fallacy of historical accuracy and failures of DLC As has been demonstrated by the data gathered above, the norm of these games is to craft male-dominated background environments, littered with male mob characters, populated with male enemy NPCs, explored by heroic avatars that are also male by default. The lack of female characters has been noted – and even criticized in certain quarters – but many continue staunchly to defend these sexist renderings of the ancient world and its mythical analogues. Despite the artistic medium and suspension of disbelief inherent to video gaming, discussions of female characters within video games frequently center upon the alleged ‘historical accuracy’ of their inclusion in a given ‘historical’ scenario.34 Yet, as scholars like Sun-ha Hong, Adam Chapman and Neville Morley have separately shown, video games, even within historic/realistic storylines, allow the gamers to create or interact with unique narratives on their own terms.35 The portrayal of history within games is thus about realizing the historical understandings of the gamers, crafting a representation of the past that is ‘real enough’ within the ‘digital hyperreality’.36 Hong writes: ‘Games’ reappropriation of the past is primarily oriented not around “accuracy”, but a pragmatic pillaging of historical, mythical, and ritual elements. These are then fractured and reconstituted according to games’ own technical, economic, and cultural imperatives.’37 Unfortunately, this creative application of pillaging and reappropriating perpetuates and reinforces modern prejudices, both with respect to a gamer’s expectation of the past and to their implicit perceptions of the genre of game in which they are immersed.38 Thus, for example, because a gamer considers both ancient Sparta and the modern genre of hack and slash video games to be male-dominated visually and physically, the default is to assume that a male character is a more ‘realistic’ avatar for gameplay within 52

Dangerous Defaults

patriarchal settings and for violent quests. As a result of this assumption, a game environment with a 1:1 male to female characters ratio may feel ‘historically inaccurate’ to the gamer, who does not realize that their bias is grounded not in historical fact or reality, but rather in their own expectations of what that past world, and its virtual incarnation, should resemble. It is a dangerous default because it is self-fulfilling as well as self-propagating, and because the genres of many historical/archaeological video games have been traditionally overrun by male characters. Historical realism, therefore, has been evoked as a rubric utilized by game designers and gaming communities alike to rationalize the exclusion of female characters, both playable and non, thereby perpetuating misogynistic tendencies of the past in a new, virtual medium. By excluding female characters, the designers often oust female gamers, too, manifesting the virtual misogyny in a real-world counterpart.39 Development studios and designers only exacerbate the fallacy of historical accuracy in their ex post facto addition of female figures in DLC packages. It is fundamentally a gesture that, while superficially equalizing, actually intimates that female characters are second thoughts in the creation and framing of these ancient, virtual worlds; the same is true of gamer-driven updates, known as ‘mods’, that occasionally provide additional female characters (sometimes including amateur voice acting).40 As such, the gaming community is encouraged to consider this an empty gesture – or, worse still, pandering – to an increasingly diverse audience, despite the fact that these updates and DLC packages actually contribute not only to a fuller narrative but also to a more realistic virtual representation of the past. DLC packages are by nature additive rather than radical adjustments to the game: typical DLC may incorporate new types of equipment, new areas to explore, new quests to complete or new avatars to pilot. They do not, as a rule, recreate the gaming environment, and as such they fail as a corrective to a sweeping issue such as problematic gender disproportions or sexist representations of characters within a game’s primary narrative. It is not enough merely to add on playable female avatars if all the NPCs she will encounter or combat with are still male: the gaming environment remains oppressively, dominantly masculine, albeit one now in strife with the marginalized, afterthought avatar. The DLC female avatar is too often a lone (or rare) woman versus the world and its NPCs. Furthermore, if the goal is to make video games more welcoming to female players, a stand-alone female avatar is not a sufficient addition to the gaming environment. While certainly a step in the right direction, a number of recent studies have indicated that gamers do not necessarily identify with the main character. Rather, for many gamers, the avatar functions only as a lens through which to experience the game.41 This is likely to be especially true in DLC packages and mods, as these add-on characters’ interactions with the environment – and the environment of the game itself – rarely diverge from the canon, whereas video games designed originally to include female characters may offer a broader range of interactions, plot developments or even side games depending upon the identity of the avatar chosen. Additionally, games that prioritize the inclusion of female avatars and primary characters from their inception are coincidental with 53

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lessened primary character sexualization (though female secondary characters may yet be hypersexualized).42

(Hyper)sexualization of female characters Arguably due to, rather than in spite of, their relative scarcity, the women within these video games were not only marginalized but also frequently hypersexualized. Whether in the pronounced swells and curves of the stylized yet rare female bodies of Apotheon, the form-fitting clothing worn even by the main character’s mother within Ryse: Son of Rome, or, most memorably, the voluptuous and scantily clad eight-limbed Megara of God of War, the character design of women in this selection of historical/ archaeological video games was clearly meant to objectify them. Regardless of their role in each game – be she victim, parent, villain – all cater to a heteronormative male gaze. The hypersexualization of female characters in video games has a long and wellstudied history. One infamous facet of game design that has become the focus of many gender studies within video games is the so-called ‘Lara phenomenon’. Lara Croft, as the primary character of the Tomb Raider series, was a seminal ‘strong’/‘capable’ female prototype – but her capabilities as an Indiana Jones-esque archaeologist are coupled with emphasized and sexualized physical features. The Lara phenomenon defines the subtle undermining of female character design and the misogynistic tropes that can be perpetuated even when the lead character of a game is gendered female. For while she is a powerful female avatar with the potential to connect to female gamers, the hypersexualization of her character may simultaneously detract, or distract, from her other skill sets within the game. The result is, at best, an ambivalence on the part of the marginalized female gamer – even in cases where the gamer is encouraged either to be empowered by the sexualization, or to view it as somehow ironic.43 Maja Mikula has pinpointed that the key difference in gaming experience that can lead to such dichotomous reactions ultimately comes down to a matter of identification and objectification.44 A gamer who identifies with Lara may feel empowered through gameplay; a gamer who views her primarily as a sexualized object is more likely to feel either titillated or excluded, per their own desires (gaze) and gender identity. Moreover, as has been revealed in a recent study, the marginalized and sexualized role of women within games can have pronounced negative social effects on gamers over time: ‘Short-term and long-term exposure of sexually objectified female characters within video games resulted in men, more so than women, being more tolerant of abuse toward women, rape myth acceptance, and sexist attitudes toward women in a real-life setting.’45 The need for more female representation within video games is more urgent than simply crafting an environment that is more welcoming to female gamers, or a more accurate reflection of past and present worlds. Bringing balance to the representations of women within historic/archaeological videogames can avert these dangerous attitudes engendered by sexist video game design. 54

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It has been demonstrated by Lynch, Tompkins, van Driel and Fritz that, although sexualization of female characters persists in video game design, there has been a marked decrease in the degree of sexualization of female character design in recent years. This is particularly true among primary characters, and correlates positively with an increase in the overall number of female figures included within game environments.46 Both are a direct response to social (and social media) movements demanding more equality for designers and gamers alike, regardless of their gender identities, and a clear result of the growth in the number of women gamers and gaming professionals alike. Alongside these positive trends between the rise in female gamers, gaming professionals and female avatars, there has been a simultaneous decline in the hypersexualization of female characters within games.47 One must wonder, then, if more women playing video games has led to an increase in female characters within the games, could the reverse also hold true? That is, could an increasingly inclusive game design and world environment also attract more diverse gamers? The answer is almost certainly ‘yes’.

Conclusion The games surveyed in this brief study demonstrate a marked disproportion toward male-dominated gaming environments: all five utilize default male avatars; all five present in the first hour of gameplay visual world environments populated with predominantly male mobs; and all five outnumber female agency as represented through voice with an average ratio of 2:1. This lack of female presence in games encourages a greater degree of sexualization in the women that are designed, results in objectification and fetishization of characters of every classification (mob, NPC, primary character, avatar), and thus creates an environment of gameplay that is exclusive of female gamers. Secondary effects, such as the wrongheaded rationalizing of the erasure of women via vain claims to ‘historical accuracy’ and the toxic community this exclusionism crafts, further drive women away from historic/archaeological video games that follow this model. By extension, however, an increase in the number of female characters may result in the growth of women interested in historic/archaeological video games. It would be too easy a conclusion to criticize the male-dominated field of computer programming and video game design without reflecting upon the shared culpability of and systemic prejudices within the discipline of classics, whether in philology, history, archaeology or other related sub-disciplines.48 The false equivalence between historical accuracy and world-building within historical videogames is in many ways a reflection of the positive feedback loop between silenced voices in the historical record and the mitigated presence of marginalized and subaltern voices in both secondary scholarship and the academy. Is it any wonder that a gaming community of designers and players alike, drawing upon androcentric representations of the patriarchal past garnered from classical scholars, would iterate a similarly sexist slant? While in this chapter I have outlined the numerous forms of the failings of video game representations of women within historical/archaeological games and described 55

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what I view to be root causes and effects of these shortcomings, I must conclude that at least part – if not the bulk – of the onus of correcting these inaccuracies lies in the scholarly sphere. Only by diversifying the histories that we as scholars and teachers relate to our students and to the public can we hope to see a manifestation of the complexities and diversities of the ancient Mediterranean world. And since many modern students of classics and the ancient Mediterranean find their interest in the ancient world first captivated through video games such as these, the increase in women and other marginalized players blazing their own trails through historic/archaeological video game narratives may, in turn, lead to an increase in diversity among students and scholars of the ancient world – a symbiotic and mutually beneficial cycle of change for the better.

Notes 1. Myriad thanks are due to this volume’s editors, Kate Cook and Jane Draycott, for their dedication to and support of this project. I am grateful, too, to the reviewer whose comments have honed this paper into a sharper, more focused creation. As one would say online: GJ, GG (good job, good game)! 2. For an early study, see Braun and Giroux (1989); for a concise, incisive history of sexism in gaming and video game design, see Lynch, Tompkins, van Driel and Fritz (2016). 3. Robinson, Callister, Clark and Phillips (2008). 4. Per the study of Kasumovic and Kuznekoff (2015), low-skilled/low-status male gamers were prone to lashing out at female co-players, whereas the same players were ‘submissive’ towards male co-players. In the study, avatars were androgynous; the only indication of players’ genders within gameplay was through vocal interaction. 5. Lynch et al. (2016: 1–2, 14). 6. E.g. Greenberg, Sherry, Lachlan and Lucas (2010) and Dale and Shawn Green (2017). 7. Robinson et al. (2008). 8. For more on the overwhelming lack of representation of non-binary characters within video games, see Utsch, Bragança, Ramos, Caldiera and Tenorio (2017), and Shaw and Friesem (2016). Nonetheless, one positive review of both gender and racial diversity within recent video games such as Hades and Animal Crossing New Horizons is indicative of perhaps a new shift toward more inclusive representation in video game design and gamer communities (Parrish 2021). See the work of Norgard, Jones and Beydler later in this volume for a further discussion of gender in Hades. 9. See Williams (2006) and Gestos, Smith-Merry and Campbell (2018). 10. According to Yee (2017), the range of self-identifying female gamers’ genre preferences vary from as low as 2 per cent (in sports video games) to as high as 69 per cent (in Match 3 games and farming sims). RPGs and Rougelikes attract a female audience of roughly 25 per cent; strategy games less than 10 per cent on average. See also Clare (2021). 11. As Cheung, Zimmermann and Nagappan demonstrate, various elements can determine whether a gamer should stay or go, indicating that gamers themselves and industry designers alike have long acknowledged the first hour of gameplay as significant for establishing fans (2014). 12. Desurvire and Wiberg (2015).

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Dangerous Defaults 13. Cheung, Zimmermann and Nagappan (2014: 63). 14. It is deeply regrettable that none of these video games are fully gender-inclusive, adhering to conceits of binary gender constructs. Thus, there were no characters in any of these samples whose genders were presented as trans, gender-fluid or non-binary. 15. This is an approximation, as the number of units per campaign are obscure and the number of mobs per unit vary; however, this estimate is low, as it was arrived at through counting units and multiplying them by the type of unit with the lowest possible number of troops per battle. 16. Nikandreos, though mostly silent, is named and makes various vocalizations throughout this first hour of gameplay. 17. This count is certainly too high on both parts, as the gamer treks through the town on multiple occasions during the first hour of play, encountering same/similar NPCs many times; their character designs are distinct only in close encounters. Nevertheless, the proportion should be a fair representation. In any given screenshot, there are approximately two or three men for each woman. 18. Correlatively, the RPG genre typically includes less sexualization of its characters (Lynch et al. 2016: 10, 14). 19. In several of these games – the trend is the most notable in God of War: Ascension and in Apotheon – voice actors were cast for multiple parts, providing both ambient dialogue (‘additional voices’ or ‘voice talent’) and portraying major or minor plot characters. 20. This data may also be set in dialogue with the findings of Orellana Figueroa in the previous chapter (29–43). 21. Only thirty-three voice actors are named in the credits, though IMDB provides an additional four members of the voice cast (three men, one woman) who were employed in the DLC. 22. The IMDB database includes one additional male voice actor from the DLC. 23. None of the characters are named in the end credits, where only actors’ names are provided; however, there are named characters within the game (see Table 3.2), just no female characters within the first hour of gameplay. 24. The IMDB database provides 38:8 male:female actors for the Ryse: Son of Rome credits, adding an additional four male and three female actors from the DLC. 25. The Apotheon endgame credits exclude one of the voice actresses, Miranda Gauvin, who voiced Aphrodite, and erroneously name Poseidon as the voice actor for Jason Marnocha, rather than the reverse. I thus utilize the IMDB final count in Table 3.3. 26. The IMBD count not only includes the motion capture team from the video game credits, but also incorporates cast members from the DLC. The numbers given in this table correspond, therefore, to the list provided by Ubisoft in the endgame credits. 27. It is notable, in particular, that in Ryse: Son of Rome, additional voices are portrayed by twenty-six male voice actors, while only one woman was cast in the original game to supply the voices for all female ‘additional voices’. This creates a vast proportional discrepancy: while one-third of the game’s main characters are female, less than one-twentieth of the game’s background characters are voiced by women, and they are all voiced by the same actor. If this was an oversight, it is a glaring and insidious one, insinuating that all the background women are the same, even as the background male characters are differentiated and nuanced. 28. She has four extra insect legs extending from her back, and myriad orifices (vaginas?) all over her decolletage that literally birth mind-controlling bugs – a truly grotesque combination of sexualization and vilification. See Goad in this volume for further discussion (61–74).

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Women in Classical Video Games 29. This stereotyping and objectification of female characters is fairly consistent throughout the God of War series overall, and has been compellingly discussed by Clare (2021: 52–6). Thus, other primary female characters within the series can be summarized as follows: objects to be protected (e.g. Pandora), objects to be conquered (e.g. Megara, or even Kratos’ erstwhile guide, Athena) or objects to be physically/sexually exploited (e.g. Aphrodite, via a mini game included in God of War 3). See Ciaccia later in this volume (128–44). 30. Beavers (2020b). 31. The game’s main quest is a scavenger hunt that typically requires the slaying of a god who possesses a key item (such as the bow of Artemis, acquired after Nikandreos kills the goddess in her grove). The wheat sheaf of Demeter and seeds of Persephone are both surrendered to the protagonist without violence, although these portions of the game take more than one hour to access. 32. Henry (2018). 33. This has not been an easy victory (see this volume’s Introduction: 1–14). 34. Wainwright (2019). 35. Hong (2014), Chapman (2016) and Morley (2020). 36. Hong (2014: 37). 37. Ibid., 36. 38. See also Clare (2021: 17–22). 39. Williams (2006). 40. Furthermore, many mods add female characters that are explicitly sexualized, such as nude avatars and NPCs. 41. One excellent study on this phenomenon has been written by Adrienne Shaw, who explores this topic in close detail in her third chapter (2015: 97–147). 42. See Lynch et al. (2016). 43. Jansz and Martis (2007: 147). Still, other scholars have declared that the sexualization of Lara’s character makes her an object for the male gaze alone, a marketing device that essentially ostracizes female gamers (Selwyn 2007; Cruea and Park 2012; Shaw 2015). 44. Mikula (2003: 81). 45. Gestos, Smith-Merry and Campbell (2018: 539). 46. Lynch et al. (2016). Their study sampled 571 video games from the period spanning 1983– 2014; the authors of this impactful study acknowledge, however, that some of their results may be ‘optimistic’, as a key criterion for their selection was that games include primary female characters (ibid., 14). 47. Williams (2006) and Lynch et al. (2016). 48. See, for example, the gender disparities across advanced degrees awarded within the humanities (‘Gender Distribution of Advanced Degrees in the Humanities’).

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PART II GODS, HEROINES AND MONSTERS

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CHAPTER 4 THE MAIDEN, THE MOTHER AND THE MONSTER: THE MONSTROUSFEMININE IN CLASSICAL VIDEO GAMES Dan Goad

Introduction Lilith, Grendel’s mother, Elizabeth Bathory, Shelob, Carrie, the Alien Queen. Female monsters are recurrent in mythology, literature and popular culture. Classical mythology, in particular, is replete with female monsters such as Medusa, the Sphinx, sirens, empusae and Scylla. Interpretations of these female monsters are many and varied, but there is a general view that in these monsters are products of phallocentric mythologies. As Jeffrey Jerome Cohen has stated, ‘The woman who oversteps the boundaries of her gender role risks becoming a Scylla, Weird Sister, Lilith [. . .], Bertha Mason, or Gorgon.’1 Cohen himself arguably inaugurated the discipline of ‘monster studies’ with his 1996 Monster Theory.2 Monsters can be studied from a variety of different disciplinary starting points, including psychoanalysis, anthropology, cryptozoology,3 and in the past thirty years, numerous works have addressed female monsters in literature and film.4 It is, however, Barbara Creed’s 1993 book The Monstrous-Feminine that stands out as a seminal work on female monsters. Creed uses the term ‘monstrous-feminine’ to signify that female monsters are constructed differently from their male counterparts. For the monstrous-feminine, gender is a key part of her identity: ‘As with all other stereotypes of the feminine, from virgin to whore, she is defined in terms of her sexuality.’5 Since female horror monsters are generally male constructs, the monstrous-feminine ‘speaks to us more about male fears than about female desire or feminine subjectivity’.6 As Creed notes, ‘All human societies have a conception of the monstrous-feminine, of what it is about woman that is shocking, terrifying, horrific, abject.’7 Her analysis draws first on Julia Kristeva’s theory of the abject, featured in her 1980 Pouvoirs de l’horreur (Powers of Horror), which is, in turn, based on the work of Jacques Lacan. The abject is essentially what separates humanity from their primal, animal instincts that are pushed away on obtaining consciousness. It is to be rejected in favour of Lacan’s ‘symbolic order’, i.e. the prevailing social norms of human societies. The abject is frequently referred to as a border, one that separates human from non-human, subject from object, self from other. Any societal taboo may be abject, from cannibalism to disease to sexual perversion. Bodily waste, such as vomit, faeces, etc. are all examples of the abject, and are subsequently rejected by the human body. For Creed, the origin of phrases such as ‘made me sick’ or ‘scared the shit out of me’ emphasize the relationship of horror to the abject.8 The abject is closely linked with the female since menstrual 61

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blood is also abject, an element that is frequently played upon in horror films, both literally and figuratively.9 Creed also utilizes Freudian theory as part of her analysis. According to Freud, men fear women because women are castrated: ‘Probably no male human being is spared the fright of castration at the sight of a female genital.’10 Freud’s phallocentric take on female monstrosity has led to a number of film scholars to analyse female monsters as being phallic in nature.11 Creed takes this view and turns it upside down, suggesting that the female monster is feared ‘not because she is castrated but because she castrates’.12 The primal fear of women as castrator is symbolized in part by the myth of the vagina dentata, i.e. the vagina that castrates, which pervades the folklore of numerous civilizations,13 and speaks directly to the fear of castration embodied in the monstrous-feminine. For Creed, the fanged mouths of horror monsters are representative of the vagina dentata and although they are sometimes present in male monsters (notably vampires), they are not as prevalent as in the female. That is not to say that the castrating monstrous-feminine cannot also incorporate phallic symbolism,14 but she is not the ‘comforting phantasy of sexual sameness’15 that Freud’s phallic woman was. Despite the growth of monster studies, it remains neglectful of classical monsters. Only very recently has Liz Gloyn attempted a study of the reception of classical monsters, and she suggests this neglect is because ‘monster studies assumes that classical monsters only really exist in the classical period’.16 Whilst Gloyn gives a summary of the psychoanalytic approach of Freud and Kristeva, she does not include Creed in her bibliography. This is perhaps not surprising given that Creed herself is primarily interested in the horror genre, and so does not address classical monsters themselves.17 Gloyn freely acknowledges the limitation of her work and the ample opportunities for further research (not least in the realm of video games). Video game studies is also a growing discipline in its own right, but whilst there are plenty of studies on female characters in video games,18 there is limited work on female monsters.19 This chapter therefore represents one way of bridging the gap between classical reception, video game studies and monster theory. Whilst many of the monsters in classical games do not fit neatly into Creed’s categories, they, nevertheless, display elements that are common in the abject and monstrous-feminine. These include the conflation between female sexuality (both carnal and reproductive) and monstrosity; human-animal hybridity; bodily fluids, such as blood, bile, vomit; razor sharp teeth, evocative of the vagina dentata; and phallic objects, such as tongues, tails or weapons. The monstrous-feminine is always an obstacle for the (usually) male hero to overcome, often with a symbolic penetration or castration. The chapter concludes with a suggestion of why these portrayals are so prevalent in video games, not just in classically inspired games but across the medium.

Sirens and harpies It is a curious fact of gaming that whilst hypersexualization is rampant in video games, actual nudity in games has been relatively rare until recently.20 Developers such as 62

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Bioware regularly include intimate relationships and sex scenes in their games, yet this is almost always composed in such a way as to cover sexualized body parts. Japanese games are famous for breast ‘jiggle physics’ and ample cleavage in female characters, yet again hardly ever feature nudity. The exception to this are games where adult content is a selling point, such as Grand Theft Auto V (2013); dark fantasy games, such as Dragon Age Inquisition (2014) and The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt (2015); games involving demonic activity, such as the Devil May Cry series (2001–19) and Dante’s Inferno (2010); and games set in the classical world. The first example is somewhat of an outlier, but the other three genres are often closely linked in terms of tone and gameplay mechanics. Indeed, fantasy and demonic games borrow classical monsters regularly. Female monsters appearing with exposed breasts (or at the very least, cleavage) is so common as to almost be expected. It should be noted, of course, that bare breasts are not inherently sexual, but in the hyper-masculine world of gaming they almost always are, even when attached to a monstrous form. This crossover between horror and historical video games is one of the reasons why the monstrous-feminine is so relevant for classical monsters. Two recurring monsters that often appear bare-breasted are sirens and harpies, which often transcend chronological and geographical boundaries to appear in games across the spectrum of classical, fantasy and horror. In the behaviour of sirens, games take their cue from popular culture. Whilst in Homer their allure is the knowledge they offer, rather than any physical attractiveness, video games have preferred to emphasize sexual temptation.21 For example, in the first God of War game (2005),22 sirens appear from a distance as scantily clad and graceful women, but closer inspection reveals a rotting face and giant mouth filled with sharp teeth, evocative of the vagina dentata. Other versions of the sirens appear in the other games of the series. In God of War II (2007), there are Siren Widows, which are more corpse-like, emphasizing their abjectness. In God of War: Ascension (2013), the Siren Sybils appear, which are topless, with an even more prominent vagina dentata-esque mouth. Outside of classical games, sirens appear in The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt. In this, they initially appear as part-serpents, part-naked females, yet when the player draws closer they reveal their fully monstrous serpent form and attack. In both these examples, there is an emphasis on the female monster as deceptive, and she must be vanquished by the male protagonist who does not fall for the deception and rejects her as abject.23 These portrayals of sirens eschew the classical imagery that makes them human-bird hybrids. Early sculpture depicted them as birds with female heads, although later sculpture showed them as having the torsos of women, with bird’s legs or wings, and they became a symbol for dangerous temptation.24 It is likely that this bird-like portrayal is omitted so as not to cause confusion with harpies, that are a similar mix of woman and bird. One game series that does include the bird-like siren is the Kid Icarus series (1986– 2012), where sirens are common enemies. Whilst monstrous nudity in games such as God of War or The Witcher is no surprise, in an incredibly rare occurrence for a Nintendo game, the sirens appeared in the instruction manual to Kid Icarus (1986) as bare-breasted. The pixellation of the game makes it impossible to tell whether they are bare-breasted in 63

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the game itself, however when they returned in the 2012 sequel Kid Icarus: Uprising, initial concept art and demos showed them as nude. In the final release, they were given a breastplate, more in keeping with Nintendo and the series’ child-friendly image. Even in the family-friendly world of Nintendo, the dichotomy between female nudity and classical monsters is there.25 Harpies are generally portrayed on classical pottery as women with wings, and are described as such in Hesiod (Theogony 265–7). In video games, they feature as low-level and disposable enemies, often retaining their classical imagery, with the torso and head of a topless woman, and the wings, talons and tail of a bird. Harpies have this appearance in classical games such as the God of War series and Titan Quest (2006), and non-classical such as Nightmare Creatures (1997), the Castlevania series (1986–2019) and Dragon’s Dogma (2012). Some games do lean into the confusion between siren and harpy, such as Dragon’s Dogma, where sirens are a type of harpy. In Castlevania: Circle of the Moon (2001) and Castlevania: Aria of Sorrow (2003) sirens and harpies appear in the same way and use the same in-game model, albeit with the colours swapped. In one Japanese children’s game, Pocky and Rocky (1992), a topless harpy featured as a boss villain in the original version. It was replaced by a winged knight for the Western release of the game and, whilst it has never been officially confirmed, it is assumed that this was owing to the harpy appearing topless.

Archaic mother and monstrous womb Creed describes two archetypes linking monsters with reproduction, that of the archaic mother and the monstrous womb. The portrayals stem in part from Kristeva’s theory of the maternal figure as abject, i.e. she must be rejected in order for the child to take its place in the symbolic order. It is the mother that teaches the child about their body, and how to cope with bodily waste. At this point faeces and vomit are not taboo or sources of shame, but they become so (i.e. they become abject) once the child enters the symbolic order. In Creed’s analysis, the archaic mother is the horror representation of this primal mother, who is rejected by the child. The monstrous womb meanwhile ‘represents the utmost in abjection for it contains a new life form which will pass from inside to outside bringing with it traces of its contamination – blood, afterbirth, faeces’.26 Both archetypes emphasize that it is not just female carnal sexuality that is abject and monstrous, but reproductive sexuality as well. Monstrous mothers are a common trope in video games of all sorts,27 appearing across science fiction such as Kerrigan in Starcraft (1998) and the Locust Mother in Gears of War (2006), as well as in fantasy. When they appear in fantasy games these monstrous mothers tend to appear with enlarged breasts and stomach, similarly to prehistoric fertility figures such as the so-called Venus of Willendorf. Examples of these include the Broodmother from Dragon Age: Origins (2009)28 and the Crones from The Witcher 3. Generally, classical video games do not include these monstrous mothers as such, but they do borrow the imagery of the engorged belly and breasts, often in ahistorical 64

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portrayals. However, one example that does have a traditional mother role is that of Gaia in God of War. Creed references Gaia as part of her archetype of the Archaic Mother, alongside Freud’s belief that Gaia and other mother goddesses stem from a time when human society was principally matriarchal.29 In the God of War series, Gaia narrates player character Kratos’ adventures and allies with him against the Olympian gods, before eventually betraying him. She appears as a giant with enlarged stomach and breasts, much like the Venus of Willendorf, only made from earth, with skin covered in trees and other greenery (see Figure 4.1). Her physical shape has more in common with neopagan portrayals as the earth mother, rather than ancient depictions which do not portray her with a pregnant stomach. The final battle between Kratos and Zeus in God of War III takes place actually inside Gaia, in a cavern around her heart with walls dripping with ooze. We might see this as an echo of Creed’s monstrous womb, similar to her description of the Alien Queen birthing chamber in the movie Aliens, quoting Kristeva (1982): ‘Everything about the mise-enscène suggests a nightmare vision of what Kristeva describes as ‘the fascinating and abject inside of the maternal body’ (1982: 54).30 At the denouement of the battle, Kratos and Zeus destroy Gaia from the inside out, a symbolic rebirth that destroys the mother. In the spinoff game God of War: Ghost of Sparta (2010) Kratos finds and meets his actual mother, Callisto. As he speaks to her, she transforms into a horrific monster that Kratos is forced to kill. Whilst this monstrous form does not appear with fertility imagery, it does have a fanged mouth, with two phallic tusks. When Kratos defeats Callisto, he stabs her with his blade, a symbolic penetration as he rejects and defeats his literal mother. This incident is likely based on the nymph Callisto, who also had a son with Zeus. In some versions of the myth (for example, Metamorphoses II: 405–530), Callisto is almost killed by their son, Arcas, after Hera transforms her into a bear.

Figure 4.1 Screenshot from God of War II. 65

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Other characters in the series that use this fertility imagery are the gorgon Euryale, and Clotho, one of the Sisters of Fate, who both appear in God of War II. Neither of these are described as literal mothers in the game, although Euryale does refer to Kratos as ‘the slayer of children’, which can be interpreted as meaning that Euryale considers the many gorgons that Kratos has slain up to this point in the series as her children, or alternatively to Kratos’ murder of his own children. Clotho appears in the form of a monstrous silkworm, albeit with multiple engorged breasts. The silkworm is in keeping with her role as the sister who spins the thread of human lives. As she has control of their time of birth she does have a link to maternity, in a sense. Her appearance is, again, in contrast to ancient depictions, where she is usually portrayed as a young maiden. Another monster to contain aspects of the Monstrous Womb, as well as other archetypes, is Arachne in Smite (2014).31 She is portrayed with a normal human torso mounted on monstrous spider legs, repeating the blurred lines between human and animal that is a sign of monstrous-feminine abjection.32 Most of her outfits are revealing in one way or another. One of her original abilities in the game was to lay eggs, from which spiders were released to attack her enemies. This was replaced later with a venomous bite, signalling Arachne’s shift from Monstrous Womb to Vampire. This new role is reinforced by one of her taunts in game, paraphrasing Walter Scott: ‘Oh what a tangled web we weave, when we want to suck the juicy bits out of our enemies!’ As a final symbol of the abject, she has the usual sharp teeth representing the vagina dentata, as well as phallic spider legs and sharp talons. A notable monstrous mother is Cleopatra in Dante’s Inferno (2010).33 The game is a hack-and-slash loosely based on the Commedia, and features Dante’s descent into hell as he attempts to rescue his wife from Lucifer. Being of the same genre and similar visually to Devil May Cry and God of War, nudity is prevalent throughout. Cleopatra appears in a boss fight as the Queen of Lust, a monstrous giant who taunts and attacks Dante. One of her abilities is to ‘birth’ unbaptized babies from her nipples, which then attack Dante. This is highly reminiscent of the 1979 film The Brood, which Creed uses as her main example of the Monstrous Womb. In the film a psychiatric patient, Nola, creates foetus-like creatures that murder anyone who threatens her. For Creed, this represents the two maternal desires which are seen to be illegitimate: ‘First, the desire – conscious or otherwise – for woman to give birth without the agency of the male; and second, woman’s desire to express her desires, specifically her anger.’34 The same can be said for Cleopatra in Dante’s Inferno. Whilst Marc Antony is present in the game, he does not have power on the level of Cleopatra, and he is in fact kept inside her body, expelled from her mouth when summoned. This, and the fact that the unbaptized babies are birthed from her nipples, suggests an unnatural birth without vaginal intercourse, and similarly they are birthed solely to attack Dante. Like the film’s titular brood, the babies ‘represent symbolically the horrifying results of permitting the mother too much power’.35 With Antony dead and Cleopatra defeated, the Queen of Lust reverts from her role as monstrous womb into that of a temptress, making an attempted seduction of Dante. He does not succumb and instead slays her by stabbing her as she is on top of him, a phallic 66

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penetration that restores his own masculine dominance. For the player, both female reproductive and carnal sexuality are obstacles to be defeated.

The many heads of Medusa In his 1922 posthumously published essay ‘Medusa’s Head’, Freud posits that the myth of Medusa stems from the castration complex; the decapitated head of Medusa is analogous to castrated female genitalia. The boy interprets his mother’s vagina as being castrated, which causes him castration anxiety. However, just as Medusa’s gaze causes a ‘stiffening’ where the observer is turned to stone, so, too, does the sight of female genitalia cause a stiffening of the penis in the male. In contrast to the fatal gaze of myth, Freud states that ‘in the original situation it offers consolation to the spectator: he is still in possession of a penis, and the stiffening reassures him of the fact’.36 It is for this reason that both female genitalia and Medusa’s head were represented on the shields of Greek warriors. Creed disagrees with Freud’s interpretation, claiming he emphasizes the phallic symbolism over the vaginal. Instead, she suggests that the multiple fanged snakes represent a particularly monstrous version of the vagina dentata. For Creed, the Medusa myth is therefore ‘a narrative about the difference of female sexuality as a difference which is grounded in monstrousness and which invokes castration anxiety in the male spectator’.37 Gloyn has also pointed out the use of Medusa imagery in misogynistic attacks on female politicians, their faces superimposed onto statues of the decapitated gorgon, and that she therefore ‘becomes a symbol of female power stepping outside its bounds, yet brought to heel’.38 With this symbolic background, we therefore see why Medusa and the gorgons are frequently featured in video games. Of all the classical monsters, they are the most omnipresent (alongside the Minotaur). Every ancient game or series that I’ve mentioned here features a gorgon in some capacity. They transcend games set in the ancient world, to appear in other series such as Castlevania, Final Fantasy, Persona, The Witcher and Castle Clash. In these portrayals, they display a number of the hallmarks that we have seen of the abject monstrous-feminine. The gorgons of the popular imagination are very different from their classical portrayals, a full rundown of which is out of the scope of this work.39 There are, however, broadly speaking three eras of gorgons in art.40 The first two (eight to fifth century and late fifth to late second century bce ) emphasized the ugliness, with wide staring eyes, a broad grin and sometimes a beard. In the third stage (fourth century bce onwards), the gorgons become less monstrous and more woman-like. Fangs and beard are gone, and Medusa, in particular, is often shown sleeping. By Roman times, ‘the Gorgon was no longer a figure of terror, but rather one of pity’.41 In all stages, the gorgons are portrayed with wings, as they are in some written descriptions, for example Apollodorus 2.4.2. The gorgons of video games do not fit neatly into one of these categories. The emphasis on sexuality and womanhood belongs to the third stage, but their monstrosity is of the 67

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first and second. Instead of these ancient portrayals, video games, as they so often do, look to popular culture for their inspiration. Video game gorgons are therefore usually portrayed similarly to their appearance in Clash of the Titans (1981): rather than human bodies, they have human abdomens only, with the phallic snake tail for their lower half. Gloyn has pointed out that the Ray Harryhausen design of Medusa in Clash of the Titans ‘has become iconic, with her snake tail now taken more or less for granted when considering what a Medusa should look like’.42 This appearance gives an increased focus on the human-animal hybridity that is a symbol of the abject.43 Gorgons are often barebreasted, or at least in a revealing outfit, and they never appear with wings, despite their prevalence in ancient portrayals. They appear this way in both the God of War series and Titan Quest. These games feature gorgons as low-level repetitive enemies, as well as Medusa, Euryale and Stheno as named bosses. An enlarged and grotesque Medusa appears in Rise of the Argonauts (2008).44 She has a snake-like tail and appears to be wearing only a bikini-like top. It is explained that her vanity has caused her to become a gorgon and the player may choose to kill her or free her from the curse. If freed she transforms back into a beautiful (and scantily clad) human and joins the Argonauts. Her feminine vanity and the elements that made her physically abject are removed, and she becomes desirable and useful once more. Medusa is also one of the playable Greek gods in Smite,45 appearing once again with the phallic tail. In contrast to the other portrayals, she does not appear topless, but does have a variety of outfits emphasizing her décolletage. Her abilities also highlight her abjection, with the phallic and penetrating Viper Shot, in which she shoots snakes at her enemies, and an Acid Spray. All of these versions display the fanged vagina dentata mouths.

Figure 4.2 Screenshot from Kid Icarus: Uprising. 68

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Again, the Kid Icarus series is a relevant example here. Medusa appears as the primary antagonist in the first game and a secondary antagonist in the third game, Kid Icarus: Uprising. She originally appeared as a monstrous green-skinned cyclops with blonde curly hair in addition to her snakes. She sports the traditional fanged mouth, evoking the vagina dentata. For the third game she was given a new form by Hades. Now looking much more human, she no longer has a single eye, a fanged mouth and taloned hands, although she still has snakes for hair. During her battle with Pit, she transforms into a more monstrous form, with the ability to detach her head from her body and a single eye and fanged mouth returning (see Figure 4.2). It is in this form that she is most akin to Freud’s Medusa, with both the fanged mouth and eye with a vertical-slit pupil both evocative of the vagina.

The other female monsters It would be remiss of me to present these examples without highlighting recent games that go against the sexualised trope. All four examples were released from 2018 onwards, and perhaps signify a change to the way the monstrous-feminine is portrayed in video games. Assassin’s Creed: Odyssey (2018)46 is generally embedded in the real world, but features a backstory involving the Isu, powerful ancient beings who were worshipped by early humans as gods. The Isu experiment on humans and turn them into monstrous creatures, such as a gorgon, the Minotaur, the Sphinx and various cyclopes. Whilst both men and women can be turned into these monsters, it is notable that the only transformed humans that are given identities are both female: Ligeia, who is transformed into a gorgon, and Lyra, who is turned into a werewolf-like creature. Neither of these monsters are portrayed sexually (indeed, the werewolf is not noticeably female) and the gorgon features neither the vagina dentata teeth, nor the phallic tail. Her clothing is modest, even by the standards of Assassin’s Creed: Odyssey, let alone other games discussed. The virtual reality game Medusa and her Lover (2019) takes the unusual step of including Medusa as a playable protagonist. A cooperative experience, players take control of either Medusa or Gaios, the titular lover. Gaios is armed with a sword and is controlled with a gamepad, whereas, in a unique use of the VR mechanic, Medusa uses the gaze of the player to turn enemies to stone. Since Gaios can also be turned to stone, players must work together to progress. Medusa is therefore turned into a tragic figure, doomed never to see her love. Visually, she is the most human of all the representations discussed here. Developed in Japan, the game uses a traditional anime style. Despite her romantic nature, Medusa is not sexualized, and wears a simple dress with a high neckline. Hades (2020) has a cartoonish style and, whilst some characters are sexualized (Aphrodite, for example, appears naked), the monsters are not. The only female monsters to appear are gorgons, which are portrayed as floating heads. Owing to the art style it is difficult to make out any detail on these characters, but a gorgon named Dusa is seen in 69

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detail. Far from being a monstrous enemy, she instead works as a maid in Hades’ palace, holding a feather duster with one of her snakes. It is implied that she is the decapitated head of Medusa, if from nothing else by the fact she is the ‘maid Dusa’. Her face resembles a snake’s more than a humans, with green skin, snake-like eyes and two fangs. Whilst the player can attempt a romance with her, they will be rebuffed. Immortals Fenyx Rising (2020) features harpies and gorgons, both as low-level enemies and as named bosses. Both examples emphasize the monstrous over the feminine. The harpies, while humanoid, are much more bird-like. They are covered in feathers, and have bird heads as opposed to human. In fact, it is not clear whether they are even female. The gorgons meanwhile are female and share the snake-like tails of Clash of the Titans, but are obese in the manner of God of War II’s Euryale. In another throwback to the monstrousfeminine, these gorgons do have the razor-sharp teeth. Whilst they display a hint of a bosom, it is much less sexualized than God of War’s version. Medusa appears as a boss, but has a very different design to the other gorgons. She is thinner, in keeping with the more traditional portrayals. Her design, however, is much more animalistic than human. She has two small tusks protruding from her bottom lip,47 glowing snake eyes and spikes on her head (in addition to four snakes). Her torso gives a faint impression of hips, but there is no bosom to speak of. Whilst these examples could all be branded as abject due to the emphasis on animal-human hybridity, they do omit any hint of sexuality in their design.

Gamers and the fear of female sexuality Gaming is still seen as a male-dominated hobby, despite there being in reality a 50/50 split in the player base,48 and misogyny is rife within the community. This is demonstrated clearly in gaming narratives, as protagonists are still most likely to be male. Whilst this is changing, with female protagonists in games such as Horizon Zero Dawn (2017), Gears 5 (2019) and The Last of Us Part II (2020), there are often vocal backlashes to these titles. What is notable is that these are all in games where combat and violence are the focus of the gameplay. Narrative-driven games with female protagonists, such as Gone Home (2013), Life is Strange (2015), What Remains of Edith Finch (2017) and The Suicide of Rachel Foster (2020), do not evoke this reaction. It should be noted that all of the classical games mentioned in this chapter feature a male protagonist, with the exception of Titan Quest, Assassin’s Creed: Odyssey and Immortals Fenyx Rising, which give the choice of either male or female. This emphasis on male characters and perspectives is one clear demonstration of the male dominance of the gaming sphere, and how game developers’ decisions can often be led by worries about a misogynistic backlash. Indeed, despite the game’s progressive approach to female monstrosity as described above, it was reported that the female option was envisaged as the sole protagonist in Assassin’s Creed: Odyssey until executives at Ubisoft demanded a male option.49 Whilst male dominance of the player base has proven to be an incorrect assumption, the executive level of game development and their decision making is still very much male-led. 70

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Aside from misogyny within the games there is an abundance of it in the gaming community itself. Virtually every female gamer has a story to tell about this, whether it is via unwanted sexual advances or from misogynistic abuse.50 A particularly vicious line of attack is reserved for female gamers who are perceived to use their sexuality for advantage and to exploit male gamers. The rise of game-streaming platforms such as Twitch has given a new visibility to female gamers, and with it an increased level of misogyny.51 Female streamers are branded as ‘twitch thots’ (short for ‘that ho over there’), ‘titty streamers’ or ‘booby streamers’. They are instructed not to wear clothing that shows any cleavage, or that is seen in any way as being provocative. At the more harmless end of the scale, this has led to petitions calling for them to be banned.52 More seriously, it has led to harassment, threats and doxxing.53 Some male gamers see female streamers as using their sexuality to exploit other vulnerable males, as evidenced by this Tweet: Hot take Female streamers are inherently predatory. This extends to idols, vtubers, and any other form of entertainment that uses women as bait Lonely, low self esteem guys are especially vulnerable and unfortunately don’t receive support in the capacity that other victims do54 Another way in which female gamers are accused of exploiting men is through the website OnlyFans. The website allows women or men to share nude or provocative photographs with subscribers. In effect, it has allowed an easy and safe way into sex work for anyone who wishes to. Whilst not limited to gamers, it has become a popular way for streamers, cosplayers and others to supplement their income. OnlyFans have themselves recently attempted to distance the site from sex work by banning sexual content from their creators, supposedly owing to banks blocking payments to the site. The policy was reversed after only six days following pressure from creators and consumers of the site.55 As with streaming, OnlyFans is seen by some as exploiting ‘vulnerable’ men and again, this attitude can be seen on Twitter: Why would a man pay money to an OnlyFans or Premium Snapchat if he has an infinite variety of porn available to him for free? Because these women provide an illusion of intimacy & personal connection. They’ve found a way to monetize male loneliness & exploit it for personal gain?56 It is therefore not a stretch to say that some male gamers find themselves exploited and even attacked by female sexuality, and it is this that makes the monstrous representation of female sexuality in games so appealing to them. Much like the sirens, titty streamers and camgirls are portrayed as luring in unsuspecting men, in order to rob them of their money, their viewers or simply their attention. Against this background, it is not surprising that female sexuality has become so commonplace as a monstrous obstacle for the hero to overcome in video games. As 71

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feminist video game commentator Anita Sarkeesian has noted, ‘when male heroes defeat them, their victory is often explicitly gendered, emphasizing that the male protagonist has overcome the female threat and reinserted his dominance and control’.57 The monstrous-feminine therefore plays a similar role in classical video games as it does for Creed in horror films: ‘a[n idealogical] project designed to perpetuate the belief that woman’s monstrous nature is inextricably bound up with her difference as man’s sexual other’.58 Nevertheless, the different portrayal of the monstrous-feminine in games such as Assassin’s Creed: Odyssey, Medusa and her Lover, Hades and Immortals Fenyx Rising perhaps demonstrate a changing attitude to women in games. Indeed, the fact that their femininity is not a crucial part of their monstrousness perhaps discounts them from being the monstrous-feminine, as opposed to simply being female monsters. This attitude change can be reinforced by the games mentioned above that not only include female player characters, but ones that are not defined by their sexuality. Since Creed wrote The Monstrous-Feminine, the horror genre has diversified immensely, and, whilst it has a long way to go, it is to be hoped that the same is happening in gaming.

Notes 1. Cohen (1996: 9). 2. Gloyn (2019: 7). 3. For a brief overview of the various approaches, see ibid., 7–25. 4. The list is too long to reproduce here, but some notable texts include Doane (1991), Grant (1996), Caputi (2004), Wood and Schillace (2014), Santos (2016) and Harrington (2018). 5. Creed (1993: 3). 6. Ibid., 7. 7. Ibid., 1. 8. Ibid., 10. 9. Creed’s two principal examples are The Exorcist (1973) and Carrie (1976). See Creed (1993: chapters 3 and 6 passim). 10. Freud (1997: 206). 11. Creed (1993: 156–8). See also ibid., 20–1 and 126–7, for examples. 12. Ibid., 22. 13. Although not, it should be noted, classical mythology, at least, not explicitly. See Creed (1993: 105–6) for a brief summary of other cultural instances and below for the linkage between the Medusa myth and vagina dentata. 14. In particular, the xenomorph from Alien (1979). See Creed (1993: 21) and Chapter 2 here passim. 15. Creed (1993: 158). 16. Gloyn (2019: 8). 17. The Medusa myth is frequently referenced, but as a psychoanalytic concept stemming from Freud, rather than addressing portrayals of the monster. See below for more.

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The Monstrous-Feminine 18. For example, Dietz (1998), Beasley and Standley (2002), Burgess, Stermer and Burgess (2007), Jansz and Martis (2007), Miller and Summers (2007), Williams, Martins, Consalvo and Ivory (2009), Kondrat (2015), Lynch, Tompkins, van Driel and Fritz (2016), Trépanier-Jobin and Bonenfant (2017) and Tompkins and Lynch (2018). 19. A notable exception is Sarah Stang, who similarly applies Creed’s monstrous-feminine to video games. See, for example, Stang (2018 and 2019). Other examples include Santos and White (2005), Spittle (2011) and Sarkeesian (2016). Trépanier-Jobin and Bonenfant (2017) also touches on this. 20. There is, of course, an extensive history of erotic video games, going back to the 1980s. See Brathwaite (2007) and Fabris and Helbig (2020) for further analysis of this genre. 21. Gloyn (2019: 195). Also, see ibid., 73–4 and 134–5, for similar portrayals of sexualized sirens in O Brother, Where Art Thou? (2000) and Doctor Who (2011), respectively. 22. For an extensive analysis of the God of War series, see Clare (2021: 38–57). 23. Sarkeesian (2016) and Stang (2018: 26). 24. John William Waterhouse’s 1891 painting Ulysses and the Sirens was seen as controversial as the sirens appeared in their classical birdlike form, rather than with their established feminine appearance. See Bonollo (2014). 25. For more on the Kid Icarus series, see Chapter 1 here, p. 17. 26. Creed (1993: 49). 27. And also found in closely related activities such as tabletop roleplaying in Dungeons and Dragons. See Stang and Trammell (2019). 28. Starcraft’s Kerrigan, the Broodmothers of Dragon Age Origins and the monstrous-feminine are discussed in Stang (2019). 29. Creed (1993: 24). 30. Ibid., 51. 31. For further discussion of the female deities in Smite, see Chapter 8 here passim and pp. 123–4 for discussion of Arachne specifically. 32. Creed (1993: 10). Monstrous female human-spider hybrids are also common in video games, examples include Doom 3 (2004), Diablo 3 (2013) and Middle-Earth: Shadow of War (2017). 33. This encounter with Cleopatra is also discussed by Jane Draycott in Chapter 11, pp. 168–9. 34. Creed (1993: 46). 35. Ibid., 47. 36. Freud (1997: 202). 37. Creed (1993: 2). 38. Gloyn (2019: 143). 39. See Wilk (2000: chapters 2 and 3) for a comprehensive examination in ancient literature and art, respectively. 40. Wilk (ibid., 31). He is citing the three stages theorized originally by Wilhelm Heinrich Roscher in 1896. 41. Wilk (2000: 35). 42. Gloyn (2019: 144). See also Clare (2021: 108). 43. Creed (1993: 10). 44. For a more detailed discussion of Medusa’s role in Rise of the Argonauts, see Chapter 6, pp. 98–9.

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Women in Classical Video Games 45. Medusa’s portrayal in Smite is further discussed in Chapter 8, p. 123. 46. Other aspects of the game are discussed at length in Chapters 13 and 14 of this volume. 47. A detail that does appear in classical descriptions and imagery. See Wilk (2000: 21, 37). 48. Yee (2017). Females actually make up the majority for some genres, RPGs for example (Conditt 2014). 49. As noted in the Introduction to this volume, pp. 4–5, this is against the background of deeper-rooted sexual harassment and assault claims against a number of Ubisoft executives (Schreier 2020). 50. See, for example, Consalvo (2012), Salter and Blodgett (2012), Assunção (2016) and Harrison, Drenten and Pendarvis (2017). 51. For a qualitative analysis on this sort of abuse, see Ruberg, Cullen and Brewster (2019). 52. Change.org. 53. Alexander (2018). 54. Claggett (2020). 55. Baker and Akhtar (2021). 56. ADIIES (2020). 57. Sarkeesian (2016). 58. Creed (1993: 83–4).

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CHAPTER 5 BRINGING DOWN THE DIVINE PATRIARCHY THROUGH DEICIDE IN APOTHEON 2015 1 Amy L. Norgard

Introduction ‘For too long has my husband escaped the consequences of His actions . . . but together . . . we will take what is owed.’ Hera speaks these vengeful words in the 2D scrolling action platformer game Apotheon (2015) from independent developer Alientrap Inc. She addresses the player as Nikandreos, a mortal warrior grappling with the fallout of the gods withholding their gifts of food, protection and civilization from humanity.2 Hera conspires with Nikandreos to commit deicide, or the violent destruction of the (erstwhile) immortal gods. Yet, Hera’s allegiance to Nikandreos’ cause is manufactured to exact revenge on Zeus for years (or eons, perhaps) of pent-up rage over his infidelities. With every deity Nikandreos defeats, he collects divine trophies – Apollo’s lyre, Artemis’ bow, Poseidon’s trident, etc. – that confer new skills, bringing him closer to immortality.3 Armed with these amassed trophies, Nikandreos becomes more powerful than the gods themselves and at the conclusion of the game replaces the gods he has killed, thus embodying the meaning behind his name: ‘victory of man’,4 or even ‘victory of humanity’. Apotheon can be classified as a ‘hero-based’ game, to use Dunstan Lowe’s terminology, which follows an individual protagonist in a mythological setting.5 As an ancient world game, Apotheon also represents ‘new forms of authenticity’ by ‘simulating the look and feel of the past’, but still maintains distance from a realistic portrait of classical antiquity.6 Apotheon’s story-world is authentic in that it embraces recognizable figures from the Graeco-Roman pantheon who mostly act in line with classical precedents. The in-game design aesthetic resembles ancient Greek black-figure pottery,7 further signalling authenticity by embracing what Ross Clare calls ‘cultural visual codes’ that a player would immediately associate with the ancient past.8 Clare argues that the Apotheon gameworld is ‘unconcerned with showcasing an actual typology’ by featuring images of notable ancient artifacts drawn from differing periods and locations; the game favours evoking a generically Greek experience for the player over portraying archaeological or chronological accuracy.9 However, by having the player interact and play within a world based on an ancient Greek artform, I see Apotheon cleverly suggesting that our contemporary notion of antiquity is constructed by (and perhaps confined to) the art it produced. The player can only experience the past through its material remains, thus recognizing the distance between perception and reality, but allowing meaningful interaction with the past to take place within that space. Furthermore, Apotheon’s gaming 75

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format as a Metroidvania, side-scrolling jumping-and-run platformer is a unique format for historical games.10 Reminiscent of older, classic video games, the platformer can convey gaming ‘pastness’ through evoking nostalgia for the player. Although an authentic portrait of the past, Apotheon also incorporates decidedly non-ancient elements, like the depiction of a ‘post-apocalyptic and post-mythological’ archaic Greece, as Maciej Paprocki writes.11 Zeus, disappointed with humanity’s ‘mortal failings’, ordered the gods to depart from the mortal realm. ‘I have watched five Ages of Man rise and fall,’ he says to Nikandreos, ‘Each generation more flawed than the last. I loved you, long ago . . . But . . . how low you have sunk.’ According to Hesiod’s Works and Days, the progression through the five ‘Ages of Man’ (Gold, Silver, Bronze, Heroic and Iron) represents humanity’s sacrilege, declining morality, foolishness and ultimate destruction (109–201), ending with the prediction that Zeus will destroy the current generation of Iron (180–1). Apotheon imagines an outcome for this unfinished mythology storyline. In fashioning an adapted version of Ancient Greece that features contemporary interpretations of the past, Apotheon’s gameworld welcomes other avenues of creative storytelling, including the integration of deicide, a common trope in classics screen media. Although the killing of the gods may appear dissonant with ancient sources, Paprocki argues that ‘the ancient Greek mythic storyworld accommodated deicide’, with early traces of deicide evident in the gods’ generational wars and the succession myths of archaic Greek literature, like Hesiod’s Theogony.12 In agreement with Paprocki, I see further trace evidence of deicide in ancient sources through the presence in myth of theomachoi, or exceptional mortal heroes who dare to challenge the gods, like Diomedes fighting Aphrodite on the battlefield (Homer, Iliad 5.318–51), or through religious worship opposition, like Pentheus denying Dionysus’ godhood (Euripides, Bacchae).13 Although the result of human–divine conflicts is notoriously disastrous for mortals,14 Deborah Lyons argues that the tension surrounding these physical match-ups implies that a mortal could conceivably win a fight with a god,15 suggesting the gods feared defeat, if not death. Unique to depictions of classical deicide in screen media, Apotheon’s take on the motif embraces a gendered reading of antiquity that re-evaluates the Greek goddesses’ place within the divine patriarchy, communicated both through narratology and ludology.16 In Apotheon, numerous female deities assist Nikandreos in subverting the divine establishment, citing the toxic actions of the male gods, making Apotheon’s narrative stand out for embracing contemporary standards of gender equality. Apotheon also offers complexity in characterization by depicting its female divine non-player characters (NPCs) with a range of opinions about the divine patriarchy and Nikandreos. Additionally, the fighting gameplay mechanics distinguish how the player battles – and thereby relates to – female versus male characters, thus reflecting how gender influences the dynamics of play. By portraying gender as a critical element to the deicide motif, a recurring trope takes on a new life in Apotheon: the only solution to a toxic patriarchy – even a divine patriarchy – is to dismantle it and start over again, a message tinged with contemporary feminist values that would resonate with the audience drawn to indie 76

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gaming subculture. Despite the strides it makes elsewhere, Apotheon still promotes a male-centric gaming model.

Surveying deicide in modern media Classical reception scholarship has noted the ‘mutual influences’ that occur across film, television and video games.17 The dynamics of this crosstalk often lead to commonalities in narrative, action sequences, and visual elements across screen media; it has been recognized as an understudied avenue in classical reception, but potentially rich for understanding ‘independent responses to the same underlying trends in popular culture’ featuring antiquity.18 This section will trace deicide as a modern trope that moves across different screen media, reflecting the player’s/viewer’s changing relationship with antiquity. I hope to demonstrate the innovation of Apotheon’s gendered approach to deicide, but also show how gaming advances notions of antiquity from other screen media (and vice versa). The death of an immortal god should be a paradoxical concept. From as early as Homer, the gods are considered ‘deathless’ and ‘ageless’,19 and they consume nectar and ambrosia, substances associated with divinity.20 And yet, in popular film, television and video games the gods are frequently killed as part of action narratives. By showing that the supposedly immortal gods can be killed, these stories ‘radically reconfigure’ ancient conceptions of the gods.21 By presenting the gods as vulnerable, the deicide motif highlights humanity’s physical and moral supremacy, thereby placing higher stock in modern values over ancient ones, and valuing progress over stagnation. In an analysis of classical screen texts, Vincent Tomasso distinguishes between two types of deicide: vanishing death and violent death.22 In the vanishing motif, the gods are suggested to vanish over time from existence as an indication of human progress, as in Desmond Davis’ Clash of the Titans (1981). Zeus (Laurence Olivier) declares the gods may ‘no longer be needed’ if humanity continues to exhibit heroism on par with Perseus (Harry Hamlin), thus exalting human achievement over divinity.23 Another example comes from Star Trek: The Original Series (1966–9), episode ‘Who Mourns for Adonais?’ (2.33), in which the USS Enterprise crew encounter an omnipotent alien (Michael Forest) claiming to be the Apollo who was worshipped on Earth by the ancient Greeks. Apollo’s fellow ‘gods’ willfully left Earth and vanished into the ‘cosmic winds’, a sort of death for long-lived beings. Consistent with his portrayal in myth, Star Trek’s Apollo acts without self-discipline, thus aligning immortality with immorality and technological stagnation, as George Kovacs argues, contrasted with the morally upright and technologically advanced Enterprise crew.24 Violent death deicide is more common, in which the gods are violently killed by an exceptional human, as in Apotheon, or by other gods, like in Tarsem Singh’s Immortals (2011), whose narrative involves a second Titanomachy. An essential feature of violent deicide is the blurring of lines between human and divine: through deicide, immortals can perish, and mortals can partake in immortality through their exceptional deeds and 77

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progeny.25 Violent deicide is readily adopted into video games, notably the God of War series (2005–present, hereafter GoW1–3), which arguably has had the most direct influence on Apotheon’s deicide.26 In GoW1 (2005), the protagonist is a Spartan warrior Kratos seeking revenge for his family’s deaths perpetrated by the malignant influence of Ares. With divine aid from Athena, Kratos ultimately ascends to godhood himself to replace Ares as the new ‘god of war’; later in the series, Kratos challenges Zeus and the Titans. With the GoW franchise featuring over-the-top gore, sexualization of women, and a hyper-masculine protagonist,27 the game has been accused of promoting toxic masculinity.28 In a gaming context, deicide is facilitated by the expectations of gaming mechanics. In a treatment of deicide in classical video games, Joel Gordon argues that ‘death is an obvious prerequisite’ for the type of hack-n-slash play featured in GoW and Apotheon, because an opponent player must die for the player to progress. Thus, the gaming format ‘required the mechanics of immortality to be re-written’ so that deicide is not only possible but expected.29 Although most examples of violent decide, including Apotheon, showcase male protagonists overcoming the gods, Gordon suggests that there is a ‘potential link between feminism and deicide’.30 This chapter explores this notion through Apotheon, which incorporates a strong female element even if the protagonist is male. A feminist reading of deicide would argue that killing the gods symbolizes eradicating outdated traditions to make way for new ones,31 like promoting the roles of women disenfranchized by the patriarchal system. One early screen source featuring a female protagonist killing the gods is Xena: Warrior Princess (1995–2001), a television series set in a fictional ancient Mediterranean that embraces many different mythological traditions.32 The show’s eponymous female mortal hero embodies a worldview reflective of contemporary values, including the strength of women and female relationships, which work together to underpin this early portrait of deicide on screen led by female agents. In the episode ‘Motherhood’ (5.22), the warrior Xena (Lucy Lawless) is mysteriously granted the ability to kill the immortal gods to protect her daughter after an unfavorable prophecy. While on a god-killing rampage, Xena kills Poseidon, Hephaestus, Hades, Artemis and Athena, who until this point had been recurring characters in the series. While Tomasso emphasizes the connection between Christian monotheistic beliefs and Xena’s god-killing powers,33 the episode’s feminist currents magnify a gendered approach to deicide: a female protagonist commits deicide in her role as a mother; assisted by a female companion, they kill divine antagonist Athena, who is leader of the gods after the death of Zeus in a previous episode – itself an example of deicide with a female element.34 Female protagonists committing deicide has seen a boost in screen media postApotheon: in Patty Jenkins’ Wonder Woman (2017), Diana Prince (Gal Gadot) takes on Ares;35 Hera leads a divine revolt against Zeus in Netflix’s American anime series Blood of Zeus (2020–present); and Ubisoft’s Immortals Fenyx Rising (2020) features an option for a female playable character to combat Typhon. While Apotheon’s deicide does not achieve this level of female agency – there are no playable female characters, after all – it stands out in its clear initiative to give a voice to female characters who are impacted in 78

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different ways by the divine patriarchy’s rampant oppression and mistreatment of women. Apotheon, released in 2015, played a role in magnifying a gendered approach to deicide in gaming, an element lacking in ancient world games featuring deicide. Particularly with the confluence of social factors garnered by the #MeToo movement during its breakout in 2017, it seems that Apotheon was released at a critical time leading up to the globalization of the movement when enhanced attention was being paid to the prevalence of sexual harassment and assault, and the culture of silence they generate. In the following sections, we will observe how Apotheon embraces female voices (albeit through NPCs) who act as dissenters or facilitators to the divine patriarchy.

Women speak out in Apotheon Nikandreos’ interactions with female NPCs adheres to the principles of mortalimmortal interactions in classical myth outlined by Deborah Lyons: ‘the distinctive features of the Olympian goddesses signal the ways in which mortals will come into conflict with them’.36 In so-called ‘boss’ battles, Nikandreos fights Athena in a contest of wits, Artemis in a deer hunt, and Aphrodite by-proxy through Eros – appropriate conflicts for each goddess’ respective domain. This specificity in depiction of the female gods, who exhibit unique characteristics with vastly different motivations, is applied consistently throughout the game. Even elsewhere in this volume, it has been noted that among ancient world video games, Apotheon is notable for exploring female characterization through primary character roles.37 This section will analyse three female NPC divinities – Daphne, Thetis and Hera – who aid Nikandreos in defiance of the male gods because they have long resented their actions, even calling them out for abuses of power.38 The motivations of these female characters have precedent in ancient literature and classics screen media, but the articulation of their motivations within Apotheon has been augmented to convey a message of women’s empowerment. In Apotheon, Daphne appears as a woman with tree-shaped appendages under guard on a pedestal in the garden of Apollo. She becomes an ally of Nikandreos to take down her captor Apollo in a cut scene that affirms her story is a rape. After Nikandreos completes a quest to give Daphne water, she springs back to life and recounts her notorious encounter with Apollo that revises Ovid’s account in Metamorphoses Book 1.452–566, which itself contains undercurrents of violence and assault. In the ancient account, Daphne is described as an object to be desired: Apollo greedily praises her bare body and undresses her with his gaze, for ‘what is hidden he imagines better’ (502, trans. Lombardo). As Apollo chases Daphne, the reader is told ‘she was still a lovely sight’, fetishizing Daphne’s fear and lack of consent (530). Even after she is transformed Apollo still makes advances, ‘pressing his hand / Against her trunk’, ‘embraced her limbs’ and ‘kissed the wood’ (552–5). He says, ‘Since you can’t be my bride / You will be my tree,’ and he adopts the laurel tree as his divine symbol (556–7). In acceptance of her reality, Daphne ‘bowed her new branches / And seemed to nod her leafy crown in assent’ (adnuit utque caput visa est agitasse cacumen, 566). 79

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Apotheon’s Daphne rejects Ovid’s suggestion of her ‘assent’ – or, more to the point, her ‘consent’ – to be Apollo’s tree. After her transformation, she says Apollo ‘tears me from the earth and plants me in his private gardens’, where he has unfettered access to continually ‘caress’ her unwilling branches with his ‘spidery fingers’, reusing imagery from Ovid. Apollo’s adoption of the laurel as a symbol of love has been twisted into a further violation, like a rapist taking a trophy of a rape. Through Daphne, Apotheon reinterprets Ovid with a feminist lens that sheds light on contemporary norms pertaining to sex and consent,39 and reflects real-world controversy about the inclusion of Ovid’s text in US college curricula in light of the #MeToo movement.40 Allowing Daphne to speak about rape, consent, and sexual assault makes her a champion for women’s rights. Daphne evokes pathos from Nikandreos (and thereby the player) and suggests that Apollo and the gods are worthy of destruction for acting contrary to modern moral values. Daphne gives her new ally Helios’ Sun Disc, a shield that reflects light, saying that ‘Apollo does not command all that is bright in this world.’ Nikandreos uses this shield to defeat Apollo in the boss battle that takes place in the dark, signaling that mortals possess moral enlightenment that the gods lack – particularly when it comes to the treatment of women. Later in the game, the nereid Thetis appears in Poseidon’s waters as an ally to Nikandreos: ‘The Olympians have taken for granted their place at the top of the cosmos,’ she says. ‘Not everything in this universe bends to the will of the gods. There are things older and more powerful than even they’ – seeming to imply herself. In an echo of Iliad 1, Thetis claims to have ‘influence of [her] own in these waters’. According to the Homeric text, Thetis convinces Zeus to punish the Achaians on behalf of her son, Achilles, in an iconic scene of supplication (493–530). Although intent to remain neutral, Zeus grants Thetis’ appeal to payback a favor: ‘I shall arrange it . . . my word is not revocable / nor ineffectual, once I nod upon it’ (524–7, trans. Fitzgerald).41 However, Thetis’ position to thwart the Achaians undermines Hera’s interests after she sided against the Trojans and puts Zeus in a difficult position with his spouse (517–23, 536–69). Similarly, in the few examples of screen media in which Thetis appears, she tends to challenge the Olympian gods.42 In Clash of the Titans (1981),43 Thetis (Maggie Smith) boldly protects her son, the monstrous Calibos, by manipulating Perseus’ clay figurine avatar – and thereby his fate – in the ‘arena of life’, which is a privilege typically afforded to Zeus.44 Like in the Iliad, Thetis successfully navigates the divine patriarchal system by sidling up to Zeus to gain influence. In Apotheon’s (albeit short) cutscene, Thetis harbours a deep resentment of the Olympian deities – male and female alike – for their suppression of her primordial powers. As a result, she sides with humanity by providing a ship to Nikandreos for safe passage in Poseidon’s waters. Whereas Thetis’ aims have previously been at odds with Hera, in Apotheon she is newly aligned with the queen of the gods: ‘we have a . . . mutual understanding’, she cautiously says. Although they have different motivations, Thetis and Hera fighting on the same side highlights the cohesive aims of key female divinities as dissenters to male god authority. Finally, Hera’s characterization in Apotheon evokes her ancient depiction as Zeus’ scorned spouse. Other screen portraits of Hera do not consistently recognize her vengeful tendencies. Whereas in some screen media her role is sanitized,45 or she is absent altogether,46 other media uses her role as a scorned woman to explain her 80

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destructive impulse.47 Apotheon channels Hera’s bitterness and anger about Zeus’ extramarital affairs into her role as instigator of deicide, adopting nuances in the divine couple’s relationship dynamic from ancient sources. Homer’s Iliad reveals the dysfunction and power imbalance in their relationship when Hera seduces Zeus to turn the tide of the Trojan War (14.153–351, 15.1–78). In the prelude to sex, Zeus undermines Hera by cataloguing his sexual exploits in a back-handed compliment of her beauty (14.313–28), and later he hurls threats when he realizes the deception: Fine underhanded work, eternal bitch! [. . .] You will be the first to catch [. . .] a whip across your shoulders for your pains! Did you forget swinging so high that day? I weighted both your feet with golden cord you couldn’t break, and there you dangled under open heaven amid white cloud. Some gods resented this, but none could reach your side or set you free. 15.14–22, trans. Fitzgerald In response to this, Hera ‘shudders’ in fear (34). This episode continues the trend from Book 1 of violence perpetrated against Hera by Zeus.48 There are also notes here that Zeus’ reign is ‘somewhat fragile to external circumstances’49 when Zeus alludes to Hera’s prior insubordination, her punishment of being strung up in chains, and the resentment of the other gods. He fears usurpation, as the generations of sky gods before him, since history has shown his wife can garner support from the other gods against him. We can see how this scene plants the seeds for Hera’s untold revenge narrative that Apotheon (and other media, like Blood of Zeus) comes to adopt. Hera’s relationship with Nikandreos fits the mold of patronage between a goddess and mortal man, like pairs Athena and Odysseus, or Aphrodite and Aeneas. But relationship dynamics between mortal heroes and immortals exhibit what Lyons calls ‘paradoxical commingling of hostility and affinity’, even between a patron deity and their favorite mortal.50 This dynamic can contextualize Hera’s changing allegiances and fraught interactions with Nikandreos. From their first interaction, Hera manipulates Nikandreos to take down the gods for her own private revenge: ‘Zeus, King of Gods and Men . . . my husband . . . has turned His back on your people. He has broken the sacred contract between deities and mortals. He has betrayed you.’ (See Figure 5.1.) Hera’s true motivations are personal, evident in her sneering aside ‘my husband’. At one point, Hera catalogues his many affairs, which she refers to as the many ‘daggers he has thrust into my back’, with a list recalling Zeus’ catalogue of sexual conquests in Iliad 14.51 Hera’s criticisms about Zeus’ mistreatment of her and failings as a husband are sympathetic, but she is portrayed as shifty and untrustworthy. Even Zeus can spot the misaligned motivations between Hera and Nikandreos: ‘I see in your eyes that you do not fight for her sake,’ implying that Nikandreos’ 81

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Figure 5.1 Hera (r.) offers to help Nikandreos (l.) (2015). © Alientrap Games Inc. true alignment is with humanity. When Nikandreos defeats Zeus at the end of the game, Hera, whom Zeus has imprisoned in chains (perhaps like her anvil chains in Iliad 15), takes ownership of Nikandreos’ accomplishments, shouting, ‘I . . . I have done it!’ After Nikandreos has spent the game demonstrating he can harness divine power, the gods have become obsolete to him – including Hera. The player is then given the option to imprison Hera or kill her – with Zeus’ thunderbolt, no less – to complete the deicide. When Hera realizes Nikandreos will not save her, she lashes out, revealing her true feelings: ‘I gave you immortality! I gave you power! You are worthless without me!’ And so, imprisoned or killed, Hera becomes excluded from the fruits of the very deicide she instigated. Any righteous sentiments Hera expressed about Zeus’ toxicity are undermined because of her own manipulation.

Gendering hack-n-slash? Fighting female deities Several female NPCs act as traditional opponents whom the player must defeat in either minor challenges or dedicated ‘boss’ battles: namely, Artemis, Aphrodite, Athena, and Demeter. This section will argue that the gameplay mechanics are differently executed for confrontations with female deities, which shapes how the player relates to – or, perhaps, sympathizes with – the female deities.52 Since ‘boss’ fights are the place where death or defeat of the gods occurs, nuances here reflect the game’s outlook on gendered relationships within the context of deicide. The fighting formula in Apotheon can best be described as ‘hack-n-slash’: the player hits, swipes, stabs, shoots and otherwise tries to kill opponents to progress through the game. Opponents have a health bar that is winnowed away with each hit until they are dead. Put another way, if the player persists with physical 82

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force for long enough, they will win. To facilitate hack-n-slash fighting, Apotheon features an array of traditional ancient weaponry common in historical games, like swords, shields, daggers, and spears, which the player upgrades to facilitate progress in battles. This fighting format dictates how the player engages with the world, but also governs how the gods are defeated in ‘boss’ fights. Of the major seven ‘boss’ fights, three occur against female opponents: Demeter, Artemis and Athena. The remaining four take place against male opponents: Apollo, Poseidon, Ares and Zeus. There is also an optional encounter with Aphrodite that I will address here. The fighting formula with the male opponents is based on hack-n-slash, where the player must demonstrate physical domination over opponents with traditional game fighting. Certainly, there are some slight variations to present new challenges and maintain the player’s interest: for example, Nikandreos fights Apollo in the dark with the light of a special shield to guide his hits; a giant-sized Poseidon takes on Nikandreos in a water scene, while the player dodges hits by swimming under water and using a ship as a platform;53 and Zeus, waging bolts of lightning as weapons, needs to be defeated twice – once as regular sized, and again as both Zeus and Nikandreos appear larger-than-life, signaling their equalized divinity. As Nikandreos fights the male gods, they verbally taunt and belittle him: ‘Let me enlighten you’ (Apollo) or ‘Your head will be my trophy’ (Ares). When the male gods are defeated, their bodies dramatically fall and disappear, which suggests death in a descent to Tartarus.54 The confrontations with the female deities, however, feature fighting mechanics that go beyond the definition of hack-n-slash, or strive to avoid it altogether. The ‘boss’ fight with Artemis is the most physical and employs hack-n-slash throughout, but in a far more innovative presentation. As the deity of the hunt, Artemis transforms Nikandreos

Figure 5.2 Artemis (r.) hunts Nikandreos as a vulnerable stag (l.) (2015). © Alientrap Games Inc. 83

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into a stag whom she then pursues (see Figure 5.2): ‘Does the master hunter make for master prey?’ she asks.55 Rather than attack, the player as a stag must escape the huntress and find checkpoints that reverse the transformation, turning Artemis into a doe and Nikandreos into the hunter. In this configuration, Artemis is vulnerable to injury. The Artemis ‘boss’ fight has been praised rightfully for its innovation by gaming reviewers.56 But even beyond its innovative mechanics, the deer hunt battle, in constantly switching the roles of hunter and hunted, allows the player to experience the fight from the perspective of both predator and prey. This creates an opportunity for the player to experience being in the vulnerable position of a powerless object that is hunted or pursued, which can be read as a metaphor for the role of women in ancient and contemporary society, particularly young women in modern media.57 It is also significant that the player only wins the battle when they are in the role of the dominant hunter, reinforcing the notion that traditional power structures will overcome weaker ones. The deer hunt battle, enjoyable to play in its own right, cleverly encapsulates the differing power dynamics between men and women, which recapitulates Apotheon’s attention to gender roles. Like the Artemis battle, the side quest to Aphrodite’s garden embraces non-hack-nslash fighting mechanics and leaves room for the player to develop empathy for the female NPC. The player first encounters a naked Aphrodite, evocative of Praxiteles’ statue from Knidos. In a condemnation of hack-n-slash, she beseeches the player not to molest anything in her gardens.58 If the player opts to break the garden’s statues, she turns to anger – ‘clumsy oaf!’ she shouts – and summons winged Eros to engage Nikandreos in battle with bow and arrows. Aphrodite herself does not engage in fighting, but rather flees across platforms, naked and vulnerable, avoiding battle.59 In Apotheon, the player can hit Aphrodite causing her to cry out in pain, but this does not progress the game: hack-n-slash does not work against this vulnerable opponent. Rather, the player must manipulate Aphrodite’s errant movements to put her between Nikandreos and Eros so that Eros will mistakenly shoot her. Having a proxy shooter in Eros means the player does not hit Aphrodite, thus presenting a softened portrayal of violence against women – particularly this naked and vulnerable woman. When shot – with love arrows, seemingly – Aphrodite declares her ‘compassion’ for Nikandreos. She then condemns Zeus for cutting off access to the mortal realm, which undermines her divine powers to make romantic unions between gods and mortals. She begins to doubt her place in the new order: ‘what share of privileges will I have when there’s no one left on earth to love?’ and offers aid to Nikandreos. In becoming a divine dissenter like Daphne and Thetis, Aphrodite questions the motivations of Zeus and the male gods in power, ultimately sympathizing with Nikandreos and humanity, out of concern for her own preservation. The battles (or challenges, rather) with Athena and Demeter similarly de-emphasize hack-n-slash as the player does not ever strike these deities. In the absence of violent confrontation, the deities articulate their position on the divine establishment. Demeter is won over through a quest for her sheaf, but like Aphrodite she is not traditionally defeated through death. When Nikandreos completes the quest, she demonstrates sympathy for all humanity: ‘I do not wish to see your people die, as Zeus decrees.’ Demeter 84

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exhibits remorse for nearly causing the extinction of mortals in the emotional fallout of Persephone’s kidnapping, referring to the events of the Homeric Hymn to Demeter (302– 13). Similarly, in the battle with Athena, her protectors take the brunt of the physical abuse while the player finds their way through a maze (‘a trial of wit and alacrity’), a quest appropriate for the goddess of wisdom. In cut-scenes, Athena lauds Nikandreos’ heroism in identifying herself as the ‘protector of champions and patron to heroic endeavor’. While she does not condone deicide, nor the idea of a human trying to supersede the gods, she is not antagonistic toward Nikandreos as the male gods are. Rather, she ultimately accepts Nikandreos’ victory over her and entertains the notion that the Olympians’ time is over: ‘the world is changing, even stone walls will not stand forever’. Unlike other female deities we have seen, Athena does not seem to resent the divine patriarchy. In fact, as the favorite child of Zeus, it is likely she has a prominent role within the system. Her shifted viewpoint, bolstered by her role as the voice of reason among the gods, reads as a logical conclusion based on the natural transference of power throughout time, and not as a condemnation of the gods’ actions. When Apollo, Ares, Poseidon and Zeus are defeated, they fall to Tartarus in a clear signal of their justified defeat. In contrast to the male gods, the final image of Athena on screen shows her kneeling at Nikandreos’ feet. As I have demonstrated, the fighting mechanics in Apotheon are executed differently for the gender of the divine opponent: the male deities must be overcome by physical prowess and endurance through hack-n-slash, whereas for female opponents hack-nslash is put on hold or differently imagined. Instead, the female NPCs run away in vulnerable postures (like Artemis and Aphrodite) or they are not fought at all (like Demeter and Athena), which provides more space for the women to have meaningful conversations with Nikandreos. Conversely, when the male gods speak, they hurl only abuse. It could be argued that this different way of approaching fighting women treats them delicately and perpetuates a lack of gender equality through gameplay – and I think there are hints of this at work. But, when coupled with the attention to narrative and character elements articulated above, the variety in fighting mechanics reflects the gains Apotheon makes elsewhere to provide rich and varied character development for female NPCs. The female characters are uniquely different from one another, and so too is the manner of battling them. Furthermore, it can be difficult to generate empathy for characters when the player is ripping them to shreds with a sword, and so the non-hackn-slash fighting mechanics better facilitate the player to listen to the female characters. Through the uniquely formatted ‘boss’ fights that de-emphasize physical fighting, the game communicates that the female deities are not the enemy – the male gods are – and aligns with the objective of taking down the divine patriarchy.

Conclusion: Just another creation story In the final battle, Zeus asks Nikandreos, ‘Who do you fight for? All that you’ve known is gone!’ Arguably, Nikandreos would not belong with humanity any longer because he 85

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has acquired the powers of the very gods he has destroyed, elevating him beyond mortality. So, in response to Zeus’ question, Nikandreos fights for his only possible future: kill Zeus, complete the deicide, and take the place of the gods through apotheosis. With this, he joins an exclusive group of mortals-turned-immortals, including Ganymede, Tithonus and the Dioscuri.60 Nikandreos, however, stands out from this crowd for earning his immortality by killing the gods, rather than having immortality conferred upon him, which aligns him more with GoW’s Kratos than literary characters. Apotheon features a slate of female characters that are substantially rendered and cultivate modern standards of gender portrayals. This has not traditionally been the case for video games set in classical antiquity.61 However, some aspects of Apotheon erase the gains made in depictions of women via narrative and innovative gameplay discussed above. The female characters, as developed and differentiated as they are, are still NPCs. There is no option for a playable female character, about which creative director Jesse McGibney has expressed regret.62 The female NPCs are not active subjects, but ancillary figures subjugated to a traditional, male-centric gaming formula. The gamer – statistically likely to be male – plays as a male protagonist, who unwittingly becomes the vehicle through which oppressed female deities communicate discontent with the divine patriarchal system. In some ways, the elevation of female voices is an unintended by-product of the player’s primary initiative. This point is underscored by the option at the end of the game for Nikandreos to kill Hera, an overt act of violence against a woman who has spoken out about the toxic behavior of men. To amplify the problematic nature of this act, Hera is chained and unable to defend herself, which starkly departs from how the female gods have been fought throughout the game. Hera’s death signals that Nikandreos’ new godhood, like the previous ones, begins from a place of devaluing women. Ironically, the more successful Nikandreos’ deicide, the closer the female gods come to their own downfall. Echoing Athena’s words, the system is broken and needs to be rebuilt. In providing aid to Nikandreos, the female deities are willing to take down the entire divine establishment, even as their own fates are tied to it. The game’s message, then, resonates with contemporary audiences familiar with the underlying circumstances of the #MeToo movement’s globalization in 2017, early traces of which were in the public consciousness in 2015: historically, women have had to accept sacrificing their own power and livelihood to voice injustices perpetrated by men Apotheon teases hope in resetting the divine system, but this hope is short-lived. In the final cut-scene, after all the gods are vanquished and humanity is destroyed, a lone Nikandreos in his most divine posture begins to repopulate the earth. In a sunny spot, he molds a human out of dirt, just as the gods created the previous generations of mortals.63 Nikandreos evokes the iconic role of Prometheus, a human sympathizer who defied the gods by giving mortals fire64 and, by his own account, gave them reason, science and art.65 Nikandreos molds his creation to look like him: a man. As the camera pans away from this male god and male creation gazing at each another, we question how women fit into this new reality – if at all. 86

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Notes 1. I extend my deepest thanks to the participants of the Antiquity in Media Studies 2020 virtual conference, where I presented an early version of this chapter, and to Maciej Paprocki and the anonymous reviewers for their crucial feedback. 2. Roy (2015) writes that Nikandreos as a typical action hero is ‘bereft of psychology’. 3. For a full list of divine trophies, their status effects and mythological inspiration, see Paprocki (2021). 4. Rollinger (2018: 18–19). 5. Lowe (2009: 68). 6. Ibid., 66. See, Rollinger (2020a: 5–6) and Clare (2018: 80–5). 7. This aspect of the game has been much lauded by gaming critics as ‘a handmade pot on every screen’ (Vore 2015) and ‘utterly enchanting’ (Whitehead 2015). 8. Clare (2021: 58). 9. Ibid., 59. See Clare (2021: 58–65) for a different discussion of Apotheon’s authenticity. 10. Rollinger (2020a: 27, 40). 11. Paprocki (2020: 194). Paprocki, a classicist, served as a ‘Mythology Consultant’ on Apotheon. 12. Ibid., 200. 13. Lyons (1997: 70–1). 14. Dione, comforting a wounded Aphrodite, says this about Diomedes: ‘He who fights the immortals is not bound to live for very long’ (ὅττι μάλ’ οὐ δηναιὸς ὅς ἀθανάτοισι μάχηται, Homer, Iliad 5.407). 15. Lyons: ‘While Greek myth generally tends to suppress the idea that a mortal might physically overpower a god, here we see traces of the idea that the hierarchy of power is neither self-evident nor immutable’ (1997: 81). 16. Lowe (2009: 67). 17. Rollinger (2020a: 40). 18. Lowe (2009: 73). Also see Serrano (2020: 48–9) and generally Clare for a transmedial approach to classical reception (2021: particularly, 7–9, 28–33 and 35–8). 19. ἀθάνατος καὶ ἀγήραος (Homer, Iliad 8.539). See, Clay (1981–2: 112–13). 20. There is scholarly debate whether ambrosia and nectar provide the gods with immortality, or whether immortality is an innate feature of their being. There seems to be agreement that consuming nectar and ambrosia is associated with a lack of aging. See Tomasso (2015: 147–8), Baratz (2015: 161–3) and Clay (1981–2: 115). 21. Tomasso (2015: 149). 22. Gordon (2017: 213) suggests the distinction could be relabelled as ‘historic’ (pre-early 1980s) and ‘modern’ (exclusively after 1990s), implying violent death is more contemporary and evolved from the vanishing death trope. 23. Vanishing death is also implied in the 2010 remake of Clash of the Titans (dir. Louis Leterrier); violent death is featured in the remake’s sequel, Wrath of the Titans (2012, dir. Jonathan Liebesman). 24. Kovacs (2015: 209). 25. See Gordon (2017: 214–16) for a fuller treatment of Immortals, focusing on its Christian influences. 87

Women in Classical Video Games 26. Here is a non-exhaustive list of other ancient-world games that feature deicide: Kid Icarus (1986), Age of Mythology (2002), Titan Quest (2006), Mytheon (2011), Smite (2014), Blood and Glory: Immortals (2015), Okhlos (2016) and Immortals Fenyx Rising (2020). 27. Clare (2021: 43–4), on Kratos’ characterization after classical Heracles. 28. Conway (2020). 29. Gordon (2017: 218). 30. Ibid., 222. 31. See, Tomasso (2015: 149), who observes the deicide motif stems from popular JudeoChristian attitudes about the Graeco-Roman gods’ ‘moral failure as characters’. 32. Ibid., 151–3. 33. Ibid., 153. 34. ‘God Fearing Child’ (5.12). Hercules (Kevin Sorbo), aided by Hera, kills Zeus with a dagger made from Kronos’ rib. 35. Gordon (2017: 219–21) treats the Wonder Woman comics. 36. Lyons (1997: 95). 37. In the present volume, see Chapter 3, Persyn (45, 50–1); also see Chapter 2, Orellana Figueroa, (37–8) who generally observes low numbers of playable female characters in ancient world games. 38. GoW’s Kratos also receives female divine aid to commit deicide from Athena, Pandora and Gaia. 39. See Morales (2020: 65–9) and Richlin (1992: 158–69). 40. Most notably at Columbia University, see Sottile (2019) and Miller (2015). 41. Thetis once ‘shielded the son of Kronos / from peril and disgrace’ (503–4, trans. Fitzgerald). 42. Thetis makes a brief appearance in Wolfgang Petersen’s Troy (2004), notably the only deity to appear in the film, but her purpose is to aid Achilles’ character development and she is stripped of any clear indication of divinity. 43. Thetis was removed from the remake of Clash of the Titans (2010). 44. Curley (2015: 212–13). 45. Notoriously, Disney’s Hercules (1997), where Hera’s marriage with Zeus appears to be loving and she is Hercules’ biological mother. 46. Hera is not a character in Immortals (2011), and she is notably absent from the rogue-like video game Hades (2020), despite the rest of the Olympians appearing. 47. In GoW3 (2010), Hera appears as a sloppy alcoholic who drinks to blunt the pain of Zeus’ infidelities. And later, the Netflix series Blood of Zeus (2020–present) recapitulates the same model of deicide instigated by Hera after she learns of Zeus’ latest illegitimate child, Heron. 48. ‘Sit down, be still, obey me, / or else not all the gods upon Olympos / can help in the least when I approach your chair / to lay my inexorable hands upon you’ (Homer, Iliad 1.565–7, trans. Fitzgerald), to which Hera ‘feared him’ and ‘bent her will to his’ (568–9). 49. Paprocki (2020: 197). 50. Lyons (1997: 90). 51. ‘Leto . . . Demeter . . . Dione. Maia. Metis . . . Semele . . . Io. Europa . . . Leda. Ganymede – but certainly these are only a few of many.’ Cf. Homer, Iliad 14.313–28. 52. Also see Chapter 10, Chidwick, (147–8) in the present volume.

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Bringing Down the Divine Patriarchy 53. GoW3 (2010) also features a water fight with giant-sized Poseidon. See Clare (2021: 47–9) for a discussion of this battle, including how gaming elements facilitate player participation in violent deicide. 54. Hera taunts a defeated Zeus, saying, ‘Fall to Tartarus!’ As Apotheon’s mythology consultant, Paprocki (2020: 202) notes that the exact nature of the gods’ ‘deaths’ was left intentionally open. 55. Clare (2018: 83) notes that this boss fight can read alongside the Actaeon myth, in which Artemis turns Acteon into a deer and he is killed by his own hunting dogs. 56. Warr (2015) and Vore (2015). 57. Modern media’s paradox of the hunting girl fits this model: young, coming-of-age girls are portrayed as hunters (armed with bow and arrows, much like Artemis), but are often hunted down themselves by male antagonists, demonstrating the vulnerability of young women as they fight injustice (e.g. Katniss in The Hunger Games, 2012; and Tris in Divergent, 2014). See Oliver (2016). 58. Clare (2021: 62) notes the irony of hack-n-slash in Apotheon, where the player destroys artifacts within a game whose design is based on material culture. 59. In GoW3, Aphrodite similarly avoids battle, but is rather portraited as a sex object to the point of caricature (pivoting from her depiction in GoW (no 1)), as Kratos can bed her in a mini game by pushing buttons on the controller. For more, see, Chapter 9, Ciaccia in this volume; also see Clare (2021: 52–6) on constructions of gender in GoW. 60. Baratz (2015: 160–1). 61. See Introduction, Cook and Draycott (1–5) in the present volume; also Beavers (2020b) for treatment of gender stereotyping and objectification in Ryse: Son of Rome (2013). 62. Rollinger (2018: 19). McGibney cites logistic limitations in writing and voice work. 63. Cf. Hesiod’s Works and Days, where Pandora is formed from ‘earth mixed with water’ (γαῖαν ὕδει φύρειν, 61); and later the gods ‘made’ (ποιήσαν, 110) the generations of men. 64. Ibid., 47–58. 65. Aeschylus, Prometheus Bound (442–506), culminating in the claim that ‘all of humanity’s arts come from Prometheus’ (πᾶσαι τέχναι βροτοῖσιν ἐκ Προμηθέως, 506).

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CHAPTER 6 ARGONAUTIC WOMEN? GENDER AND HEROIC STATUS IN RISE OF THE ARGONAUTS Sophie Ngan

Introduction In this chapter, I discuss how women are presented in the video game Rise of the Argonauts (RotA), in order to illustrate the gendered ideologies produced and reproduced in this game. Released in the United States in late 2008 and in the UK in early 2009, RotA is an action role-playing game set in a Greek mythological past. The game takes its setting and characters from the myth of Jason and the Argonauts, and from Greek mythology more broadly. However, as McMenomy notes, when it comes to game designers’ reception of mythology, gameplay is not sacrificed for the sake of accuracy to the source material;1 this is epitomized in RotA’s creators’ comments on their approach to adapting mythology. The developers are explicit about their simultaneous engagement with and innovation on Greek mythology, as neatly summed up by producer Ed del Castillo in a 2008 interview: ‘we read all the myths, but the story came from us’.2 RotA’s creators take inspiration from Greek mythology, but have not constrained themselves to remaining faithful to antiquity. Moreover, the developers are explicit about how they diverge from ancient material, replacing parts they consider antiquated with ideas of greater contemporary relevance: ‘We’ve kind of abandoned some of the stodgy oldness of the myth and really juiced it up with some more relevant themes.’3 Reviewers (both professional and amateur) have used the liberties the designers have taken with Greek mythology as a point of criticism;4 however, the designers are explicit about their active innovation on ancient material. Designer Vernon Andrew Dunmore states: ‘I invite our players to refresh themselves on the famed sagas, and also see for themselves how we reflect them in our game.’5 In this chapter, I take up this invitation, focusing on how the designers’ alterations and innovations play out. From a brief summary of the plot of the game, it is clear that some large changes have been made to the Argonautic myth from antiquity. In the ancient version, Jason is challenged by his uncle, Pelias, to retrieve the Golden Fleece on Colchis in order to gain his rightful rulership over Thessaly; during this quest, Jason faces hindrances, such as the Clashing Rocks and the Sirens, and is romantically involved with two women, Hypsipyle and Medea, neither of whom he remains married to.6 Where the Jason of antiquity pursues the Golden Fleece in order to regain his royal lineage, the developers of RotA have their Jason motivated by the murder of his wife, Alceme, as the Golden Fleece uniquely possesses powers of revival.7 The developers perceive Pelias’ order as an external stimulus for Jason’s quest, making his motivations less relevant to a contemporary 90

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audience; instead, they give Jason a more personal motive for his quest, a change which will be discussed in more detail below. On his quest, Jason is impeded by the game’s antagonists, the Blacktongues. This group, who killed Alceme, are followers of Hecate and have powers of sorcery. Beginning with a group of companions on Iolcus, Jason sails to Delphi, where he learns that the Golden Fleece is in Tartarus, which can only be reached by gathering a descendant of each of his patron gods – Ares, Athena, Hermes. These descendants are located at Kythra, Mycenae and Saria, islands which the player can visit in any order they choose. On his journey, Jason also picks up other non-playable characters (NPCs) who join him on his ship. The locations of the characters are listed in Table 6.1, with women indicated in italics. The NPCs have different functions in the game; some are used in combat as part of Jason’s party, some are the divine descendants needed to reach Tartarus, others perform miscellaneous functions. These functions are detailed in Table 6.2, with women indicated by italics. Some of the Argonauts in RotA are those familiar from antiquity, such as Argos, Atalanta and Hercules, but others are imported from the wider canon of Graeco-Roman myth, such as Achilles, Daedalus and Medusa. A notable inclusion amongst Jason’s crew is Medea, similar to her ancient counterpart in providing aid to Jason, but no longer a romantic interest. Indeed, Jason’s complex marital record is erased, replaced with a single wife, Alceme – a name which seems to be a variation on Alcmene, mother of Hercules. I go into Jason’s romantic interests more below. For now, what becomes clear from looking at this cast of characters is that RotA’s Argonauts, whom the developers describe as ‘the X-Men of mythology’,8 consist of some of Graeco-Roman mythology’s biggest hitters. The developers have clearly made carefully considered decisions about which figures to include in their game.

Table 6.1 Table of NPCs by location found Original Group (Iolcus)

Delphi

Kythra

Mycenae

Saria

Argos

Pan

Medusa (or Perseus)

Achilles

Atalanta

Hercules

Daedalus

Lykas

Medea

Lycomedes

Table 6.2 Table of NPCs by function Combat

Descendants

Other

Achilles

Lycomedes (from Ares)

Argos (ship captain)

Atalanta

Lykas (from Hermes)

Daedalus (ship captain)

Hercules

Medusa (or Perseus) (from Athena)

Medea (guide and sorcerer)

Pan

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Thus, the main body of my chapter discusses the inclusion of these particular women (Atalanta, Medea, Medusa) amongst Jason’s Argonauts. I analyse and interrogate both the innovations made to female characters from antiquity and the roles women play in the game. My approach considers both the mechanical and narrative function of female NPCs; as McMenomy notes, ‘a game’s use of received fiction cannot be understood separately from that game’s rules and mechanics’.9 I argue that there are tensions between representation and ideology in RotA. Although the game diverges from the Argonautic tradition of antiquity and beyond by including women amongst the Argonauts without questioning their Argonautic status, it also, nevertheless, reproduces misogynist and patriarchal ideologies in its presentation of women and their roles.10 The women in this game are not narratively or procedurally monolithic. They function within the story as romantic interests, as combat NPCs, as assistants necessary for completing the game; these roles are (understandably) subordinate to Jason’s goals, but they also reproduce notions of women as objects of desire or as assistive to a male protagonist. Moreover, the way in which power is conferred on these women is somewhat paradoxical: on the one hand, their physical and magical powers justify their heroic, Argonautic status; but, on the other hand, the dangerous potential of their powers is regulated only through service to Jason’s quest. The non-depiction of the full extent of these women’s powers, although dissatisfying for the feminist-minded player, both illustrates the difficulties of producing mechanics which are not conventional combat and reproduces an ideology of gender in which says powerful women are dangerous – so dangerous that their powers cannot be presented, conceived, imagined.11 However, before getting to the main quest, this chapter has a tutorial ‘level’ in order to illustrate my approach to interpreting RotA’s gender ideologies. Through centring the maleness of the intended player-base, discussing the goals of the player and interrogating the gendering of female characters through appearance, I illuminate the masculine and heteronormative ideals of the game.

It’s a man’s world RotA is aimed at a ‘mainstream’ gaming audience – young, white men.12 Within the genre of action role-playing, RotA is frequently described by critics as a combination of God of War and Mass Effect.13 Like these games, RotA contains violent gameplay and, for this reason, is rated by Pan European Game Information (PEGI) at ‘18’ and by the Entertainment Software Rating Board (ESRB) as ‘Mature’. It is clear that this game, like its forerunners, is pitched at the stereotypical ‘gamer’ demographic: young, male adults. A mechanic fundamental to the game is combat, likewise contributing to its masculinization.14 The protagonist and player avatar is Jason, the hero of the story. He is the only playable character, through whom the player experiences the game. In the spirit of the roleplaying genre, the player is encouraged to identify with Jason through dialogue choices which reveal his ‘internal life’;15 indeed, the ability to create a personalized Jason has 92

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appealed to players.16 In appearance, he embodies stereotypically masculine characteristics: square jawline and highly defined muscular build. This muscular, masculine Jason stands in stark contrast to his ancient counterpart, who is often considered a less heroic epic protagonist than, for example, Achilles and Odysseus.17 The Jason of RotA is, therefore, physically representative of heroic masculinity. This is not, however, a masculinity designed to be sexually desirable (i.e. in which the male form is the object of a desiring gaze), but a masculinity which encourages subjective identification by the player. The heterosexual assumptions about the intended player are clear from this subjective identification with the masculine hero protagonist combined with the objectification of the female form. At a glance, the four main female NPCs (Alceme, Atalanta, Medea, Medusa) are visually similar. As shown in Figure 6.1, they have the same hour-glass body shape, which is especially emphasized by their tight-fitting clothing. It is particularly noticeable how similar their clothing is, with cut-outs at the midriff, skirts split down the side to reveal their legs and tops which emphasize their cleavage. In short, all these female characters fit a particular template for normatively attractive women. The visual similarity of the female Argonauts is even more striking against the visual diversity of the male Argonauts, shown in Figure 6.2. In appearance, Jason fits the mould of masculine superhero. The most visually similar character to Jason is Achilles, who is likewise muscular, but of slightly slimmer build. The rest of the male Argonauts, however, differ greatly from this mould. Where Jason is masculine, Hercules is undoubtedly hypermasculine; Jason embodies the idealized Dorito form (epitomized most prominently by Captain America), whereas Hercules has the distorted physical attributes of the Hulk.18 Turning to Pan, the centuries-old satyr, and Argos, the wizened helmsman

Figure 6.1 Female characters from RotA (l.–r.: Alceme, Atalanta, Medea, Medusa). © Liquid Entertainment. © Codemasters. 93

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Figure 6.2 Male characters from RotA (l.–r.: Jason, Hercules, Argos, Pan, Achilles). © Liquid Entertainment. © Codemasters.

of the Argo, it becomes even clearer that male Argonauts do not fit a homogeneous mould, but are visually diverse, unlike female Argonauts. There is no doubt that the women in RotA function, on some level, as eye candy for the intended player-base.19 As one reviewer comments: ‘The female character models (yow!).’20 The player’s main goal in the game, saving Alceme, reproduces the traditional ‘save the princess’ plot of many games.21 Moreover, despite the sexualized desirability of the female NPCs who get the most screen time – Atalanta, Medea and Medusa – Jason is resolute on his goal and only has eyes for Alceme.22 Jason’s fidelity to Alceme, despite the potential of alternative romantic interests in his other female companions, is suggestive of her embodiment of idealized femininity. Alceme has both royal and divine lineage, as daughter of King Lycomedes who is descended from Ares. She is presented, in flashbacks, as beautiful, intelligent and physically capable. Her virtues are extolled on a statue as follows: ‘Courage eternal, devotion steadfast, grace forever, beauty undying.’ The spectre of the ideal woman, represented by Alceme, provides a consistent point of comparison for the other female figures in the game – a fact I return to in this chapter. The storyline of the game is directed towards a ‘happily ever after’ ending, a reunion with Alceme. The values with which the player is presented are, therefore, not only heterosexual, but also heteronormative.23 The role these female Argonauts play, within the rhetoric of RotA, is one of ideology-building; these characters function as part of the system, defining ideals and norms of gender. These figures operated in similar ways in antiquity. Through Atalanta’s simultaneous feminine power and desirability, she disrupted and defined masculinity: ‘Atalanta challenges men in a man’s world and therefore presents a threat to the male order, but she is also the object of male desire and subject to male 94

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influence and dominance.’24 Medea’s liminal status was used as a vehicle for defining group identity: Not only does her checkered career allow authors and artists to explore the opposing concepts of self and other, as she veers between desirable and undesirable behavior, between Greek and foreigner; it also allows them to raise the disturbing possibility of otherness lurking within self—the possibility that the ‘normal’ carry within themselves the potential for abnormal behavior, that the boundaries expected to keep our world safe are not impermeable.25 Finally, Medusa functioned as a monstrous mirror, in which the other in the self is viewed: ‘The face of the Gorgo is the Other, your double. It is the Strange, responding to your face like an image in the mirror . . . but at the same time, it is an image that is both less and more than yourself.’26 In short, unusual women, in both antiquity and in RotA, play a role in forming ideologies of gender, in delineating the transgressive from the normative. The assumed masculinity in the values RotA advances manifests in many, mutually reinforcing forms. The implied audience of the game is young and male, reflecting the demographic of the design team. The protagonist embodies an ideal masculinity which is heroic and normative. The main aim of the game is heteronormative, directed towards the ideal woman, Alceme. The male, heterosexual gaze also reveals itself in the sexualized appearances of the female characters. However, within the game, Jason remains undistracted from his task of saving Alceme, despite being surrounded by three women who are very similar to her visually. The following sections focus in on the female Argonauts: Atalanta, Medea and Medusa. For each, I explain their canonical mythological background from antiquity, from which it becomes clear that these female figures carry cultural significance because of their deviation from gendered norms. I then consider the innovations made to adapt each woman to RotA, and the narrative and mechanical function of each. By doing so, I illustrate that the gendered ideology at play in this game reproduces age-old, patriarchal power dynamics which simultaneously hint at the dangers of female power and regulate their use.

Atalanta Since antiquity, Atalanta has been a figure associated with the Argonautic myth. Atalanta is listed as an Argonaut by both Diodorus Siculus (Bibliotheca Historica 4.41.2) and Pseudo-Apollodorus (Bibliotheca 1.112). However, in the Argonautica, Apollonius notes her absence from the Argonauts: ‘for [Atalanta] eagerly desired to follow on that quest; but [Jason] himself of his own accord prevented the maid, for he feared bitter strife on account of her love’.27 The passage explicitly explains that Atalanta is excluded from the Argonauts because of her dangerous potential, as a woman scorned, of distracting Jason from his quest. This explanation is particularly ironic, given that later in the Argonautica Jason delays with Hypsipyle, and beyond the scope of the Argonautica his abandonment 95

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of Medea causes her to murder their children.28 Notably, however, in RotA Jason shows no signs of straying from Alceme, a fact which reinforces the romantic heteronormative ideals presented in this game. Atalanta’s Argonautic involvement is not the only story associated with her in antiquity, and not the only aspect of her mythical background in which gender plays a significant role. In one tradition, as a baby Atalanta is exposed by her father, since he does not want to raise a girl; she is then suckled by a bear, before being found and raised by a group of hunters.29 A different tradition has her so unwilling to marry that potential suitors must beat her in a footrace.30 These two traditions were not always kept separate in antiquity, but sometimes elided into a single version.31 Through all the different traditions associated with the name Atalanta, the flouting of gender norms runs as a continual thread. Her unconventional upbringing, her physical prowess, and her eschewing of traditional marriage are all indicative of how she goes beyond normative expectations of femininity in antiquity.32 Indeed, in Aelian’s description of her, he notes that ‘she looked in a masculine and fierce way’.33 In addition, the ancient controversy surrounding her involvement in the Argonautic quest as a woman heightens her exceptionalism. Many modern retellings of the Argonautic journey do include Atalanta, on which Lovatt writes: ‘Atalanta becomes a canonical Argonaut in the twentieth century, but her inclusion is not always straightforwardly a feminist gesture.’34 Along similar lines to Lovatt’s observation, the presence of Atalanta amongst RotA’s Argonauts is not sufficient for ensuring any kind of feminist, anti-patriarchal ideology of gender within the game. RotA follows in the footsteps of receptions of the Argonautic myth in the inclusion of Atalanta amongst the Argonauts.35 Moreover, RotA’s Atalanta retains some of the characteristics of her counterpart(s) from antiquity. She is orphaned as a child and has an unconventional upbringing (with centaurs, rather than hunters). She is physically and martially capable, described by her adoptive father as the ‘best’ of their tribe. Her martial characteristics are also clear as she is the only female character who can be used in combat in-game. As in antiquity, her exceptionalism as a woman amongst men is key to her characterization. Of the four combat NPCs, she is the only woman, suggesting that there is some tokenism behind her inclusion in this group. Indeed, Atalanta is seldom mentioned by the developers in interviews.36 This need to explain Atalanta’s inclusion is further pointed at by the fact that her backstory is fleshed out significantly more than that of Hercules, Achilles and Pan; while the player is told little biographical information about these male characters, Atalanta’s unusual childhood serves the purpose of justifying her Argonautic status. Atalanta’s inclusion in RotA’s Argonautic crew follows in a tradition of Atalanta as an Argonaut. In making Atalanta exceptional in this regard, as the only female combat NPC, the game reproduces a gender ideology which assumes the inferiority of women. Representation of women within a game does not necessarily preclude patriarchal gender ideologies. Moreover, even though Atalanta is not deprecated or questioned in her Argonautic role, her exceptionalism, nevertheless, causes her to partake in nonfeminist, patriarchal gender ideology. 96

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Medea Like Atalanta, Medea also plays a part in the Argonautic tradition, though a part much more significant.37 She is most well known for her interactions with Jason, which begin when Jason reaches Colchis, where Medea’s father is king. After falling in love with Jason, she uses her powers of witchcraft to help him complete the necessary tasks to attain the Golden Fleece. Having gone against her father’s wishes, she escapes Colchis with Jason by murdering her own brother, scattering his body parts in the sea to distract her father.38 Eventually, Medea and Jason make their way to Corinth, where Jason marries the daughter of the king, leaving Medea powerless. In an act of vengeance, Medea murders their children.39 Medea is, therefore, a figure characterized by her complexities and transgressions.40 She is a witch descended from the god Helios, who uses her powers of sorcery to deceive and murder; and as a mother who kills her own children, Medea transgresses normative femininity in her power and agency, and also in her capacity for contravening maternal instincts.41 Like Atalanta, then, Medea is an unconventional woman, whose unconventionality has perpetuated her cultural survival.42 However, unlike Atalanta, Medea’s character from antiquity needs significant rehabilitation to ensure her Argonautic status in RotA. The player first meets Medea on Iolcus, where she reveals herself to be an exBlacktongue and offers her help to Jason. We learn that she joined the Blacktongues when she was twelve years old and arranged to be married to a sixty-year-old suitor. On her marriage night, she murdered her suitor and fled her family, vowing never to be powerless again. Her reason for joining the Blacktongues was the power they promised her. During her time as a Blacktongue, she learned sorcery and spellcasting, but also realized that her powers were not her own, but employed in service of the Blacktongues’ crimes. For this reason, she left the Blacktongues and turned against them. She offers to help Jason with her knowledge of the Blacktongues and her spellcasting abilities, which are needed to reach the Underworld. As she is confined to the Argo for most of the game, she is described by Clare as ‘static and essentially characterless’.43 Whilst she is limited in her mechanical function and spatial location within the game, her character is essential to the game’s world-building and narrative arc. In rehabilitating Medea to Argonautic status, the developers do not entirely erase wrongdoing from her biography and RotA’s Medea is, in many ways, thematically similar to the Medea of antiquity. Both Medeas commit acts of murder, forcing them to leave their families; independence, then, is an important motivation for Medea in both her mythological and game stories. RotA’s Medea, like her ancient counterpart, is proficient in magic, and uses this skill to assist Jason. For RotA’s Medea, aiding Jason is doubly rehabilitative: in-game, helping Jason against the Blacktongues is an act of redemption, by which she atones for her association with them; within the traditions of Medeas, supporting Jason rehabilitates her character to heroic status, thereby justifying her place amongst RotA’s Argonauts. Medea’s sorcery is not tacitly absent from the game, but controlled and moderated. Medea is clear about how powerful she is, stating: ‘There was a time no follower of Hecate 97

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could hope to match me.’ However, she expresses concern about unintentionally harming others: ‘I am not . . . safe to be around. I sometimes lose myself, as you have seen.’ To keep others on the ship safe, she limits her powers to a single room by setting up wards, which only Jason can deactivate. Like the Medea of antiquity, the powers which have the potential to harm Jason are the same powers she uses to help him. Since this potential for harm goes unrealized in the game, Medea’s power is controlled. As she only uses her powers to help Jason reach the Underworld, they are limited to service to Jason’s goal. In addition, Medea’s physical appearance, with the tattoos of the Blacktongues, serves as a reminder of her past, of her potential to be dangerous to Jason’s purpose. In RotA, then, Medea’s ambiguous morality has consequences which pull in different directions. The pointed circumscription of Medea’s power draws attention to how dangerous she could be. Yet, the lack of fulfilment of this power is somewhat dissatisfying for the feminist-minded player. This particular adaptation seeks to redeem her character and, in so doing, demonstrates the extent of her power precisely by not depicting it. In short, this tension illustrates the complexities of any Medea: Medea encapsulates a power so transgressive that it must be curbed in order to be presentable.

Medusa RotA’s final female Argonaut, Medusa, is not canonically involved in any Argonautic myth. Like Medea, Medusa is a complex figure. The most commonly known narrative of Medusa follows the version in Ovid’s Metamorphoses (4.777–803): Medusa, a beautiful woman, is raped by Poseidon and consequently turned into a monster with snakes for hair whose sight turns living creatures into stone; her head is cut off by the hero Perseus, who avoids looking directly at her through using his shield to view her reflection. This head becomes the Gorgoneion of Athena and Zeus, an apotropaic symbol emblematic of feminine power, making Medusa representative of feminine power in its most monstrous forms.44 It is her feminine power in the face of patriarchy which has caused her to persist in cultural consciousness.45 Although not part of the Argonautic myth, Medusa is one of the most recognizable female figures from mythology, thus accounting for her inclusion in RotA.46 The dynamics operating in the adaption of Medusa have parallels with the case of Medea. Medusa also requires rehabilitation, whilst retaining an element of continuity between antiquity and RotA. In RotA, Jason first encounters Medusa as a boss, in the form of a monster with snakes as hair, whose vanity, symbolically represented in a golden statue, has caused her to lose her past beauty.47 Medusa can be defeated in two ways. If attacked directly, she is killed and Jason recruits her twin brother, Perseus. Alternatively, Jason can defeat Medusa through destroying the statue and using his shield as a mirror. Upon seeing her own reflection in the shield-mirror, Medusa realizes her vanity has caused her to become monstrous and reverts to her human form, allowing Jason to recruit her. 98

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Although many liberties have been taken with the narrative – not least that Medusa and Perseus are twins – parts of Medusa’s canonical character remain: her monstrous form is caused by vanity; in her monstrous form, she has snakes for hair; she has a connection to Athena, not as Gorgoneion but as descendant. The player can choose to win the boss-battle by killing Medusa, as happens in the myth; in this version, dangerous feminine power is destroyed. But if the player saves Medusa, she is recruited specifically for the purpose of atoning for her wrongdoing, ordered: ‘Medusa, as Jason has decreed, your penance will be to serve the people of Kythra in all that you do. Your first task will be to journey with Jason. Help him find the Fleece and prove your new resolve.’ Like Medea, Medusa both redeems herself in-game and is rehabilitated from her mythology by serving Jason’s quest.

Conclusions I now tie together the preceding analyses of individual characters to make some conclusions about the ideology of gender RotA presents. First, the three women featured amongst the Argonauts are transgressive, in the game as in antiquity. Atalanta, like her ancient counterpart, is exceptional in equalling the status of men; as the implied standard of comparison is male, a gender ideology promoting the inferiority of women is reproduced. The game, in its own way, emulates the dangerous potential of both Medea and Medusa from antiquity: Medea is a powerful sorceress who was once an associate of the game’s antagonists, the Blacktongues; the player first interacts with Medusa in the form of a boss to be defeated. The mythological women who make their way into RotA, then, are all well known for their gendered transgression, as their femininity is representative of a challenge to masculinity and to the norm. Although two of these three ancient figures are antagonistic to heroes, it is their symbolization of femininities beyond the norm, femininities of power and agency, which lend them to their newfound roles amongst the ‘X-Men of mythology’. Second, women’s dangerous potentials are rehabilitated and controlled by service to the male protagonist, Jason. The descriptions of the backgrounds of Medea and Medusa in RotA highlight that both characters experience a fall from ‘goodness’, which is reversed in order for them to join Jason’s band of Argonauts. In both cases, their moral wrongdoing is presented as no fault of their own, but due to the involvement of a third party. And in both cases, by joining Jason on his mission, they redeem themselves for their wrongdoing. The Medea and Medusa of antiquity require rehabilitation in order to become Argonauts. This rehabilitation of ancient figures is reproduced within the ingame narratives. Rather than erasing wholesale any transgressive aspects of Medea and Medusa, the game’s developers have them commit wrongdoing then redeem themselves by participating in Jason’s mission. These women do not join Jason on his quest as potential romantic partners, but as necessary components for him to complete his quest, which is presented as a noble mission, through the fact these women can redeem themselves by helping him. 99

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Third, RotA ultimately presents an ideology which is heteronormative. None of the women Jason recruits on his quest are of romantic interest to him, and he remains faithful to Alceme. It seems a little strange, at first glance, that Jason’s wife is given a name which, to a non-expert, could be from Greek mythology but is not. Although the Jason of antiquity is not a figure lacking in relationships with women, these relationships do not end well. By making Jason’s wife a tabula rasa, the game’s writers preserve Jason’s heroism and Alceme’s moral goodness. Neither Atalanta nor Medea nor Medusa can compare with Alceme. In this way, the marital relationship is put on a pedestal, as the telos of the game around which everything else revolves. For the developers of RotA, the world of Greek mythology provides ready-made story elements, which they shape and fashion to their own tastes and preferences. Although many changes have been made to canonical versions of the myths and characters which have been cherry-picked, these retain something of the ‘essence’ of their ancient counterparts. The same can be said for how the game represents female characters and engages with femininity. By contextualizing my discussion of individual characters within the broader culture of this game, it becomes clear that the gender ideology of RotA is both misogynist and heteronormative. The three Argonautic women are notable for their transgressive femininity, evident in both mythology from antiquity and in the game’s adaptation of that mythology. These powerful women carry with them, in their mythological pasts and in-game backgrounds, a dangerous potential, which is curbed through service to the male protagonist. Yet, none of these women plays the role of a romantic interest to Jason, and instead it is his wife who is, in her illusoriness, the perfect woman. This valorization of the marital relationship both reiterates the well-known ‘save the princess’ trope and constitutes the heteronormative values which drive the game. RotA, therefore, shapes and is shaped by its source material: the inclusion of women does not entail feminist values; and ultimately, this game reproduces many patriarchal and misogynist ideologies.

Notes 1. McMenomy (2015: 121). See Orellana Figueroa, in this volume (pp. 29–33), whose discussion of historical (in)accuracy in video games highlights the unequal standards to which representations of women are held (in comparison to other aspects of the ancient world). 2. Robinson (2008). Likewise, they describe their game as ‘a creative retelling’ (GameSpot 2019). 3. GameSpot (2019). Designer Vernon Andrew Dunmore makes a similar statement: ‘Rise of the Argonauts takes its inspiration from classic Greek myth, but re-imagines those themes to make the stories more relatable to modern day audiences’ (IGN Staff 2008). 4. To take a couple of examples. Walker: ‘The story of Jason’s attempts to rise to power as King of Iolcus through forming the Argonauts and searching for the Golden Fleece has been put through a shredder. Some poor soul took the resulting strips and attempted to stick them back together, creating the utterly non-canon story on offer here. . . . It’s nothing to do with Jason and the Argonauts’ (2009). Capra: ‘First off, if you’re a student of Greek myth (Or just a

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Gender and Heroic Status geek of the same) you may want to stop now. This is not the classic story of Jason and the Argonauts’ (2009). 5. GameSpot (2019). 6. Many ancient works of literature explore and engage with different parts of Jason’s story. Those focused on the Argonautic content include: Apollonius’ Argonautica, Pindar’s 4th Pythian and Valerius Flaccus’ Argonautica. 7. The Golden Fleece does not have healing properties in antiquity (to the best of my knowledge), but it does in later receptions, e.g. the Percy Jackson universe. For symbolism of the Fleece in receptions, see Lovatt (2021). 8. Sassoon Coby (2008). 9. McMenomy (2015: 107). 10. That women’s representations in video games can be diverse and nuanced, yet still patriarchal, is also discussed by Norgard in this volume (esp. pp. 82–6). 11. The way in which the system engines and producible mechanics cannot (in some cases) do justice to the narrative ambitions of games is observed in the BioShock franchise by Malazita (2008). 12. The assumption that ‘gamers’ are male is not actually borne out in the statistics, on which see the Introduction to this volume (pp. 1–2). 13. Deam describe RotA as ‘an ambitious fusion of God of War-style combat and Mass Effect-like roleplaying’ (2008). Likewise, Moore writes: ‘You have your Mass Effect and God of War floating around. To most, they are herald as masterpieces of their genres. It seems the people at Liquid Entertainment decided to take the good aspects of these games and create their own. What we got was Rise of the Argonauts’ (2009). 14. On the masculine appeal of combat mechanics, see Ray (2004: 38–49). 15. Del Castillo states: ‘Also the way that we’re doing the dialogue, depending on how decide [sic] to progress through the dialogue and how you evolve your character, there’s going to be unique experiences’ (Robinson 2008). 16. E.g. from Metacritic user SoullessPotato: ‘But they do make you feel as though you are creating your version of Jason. If you choose all Aries [sic] options as Jason then you feel like you have an aggressive war driven Jason, Athena you feel like your Jason is wise etc.’ (2016). 17. Debate summarized by Hunter (1988). 18. ‘Dorito’ is a descriptor which has been applied to Captain America actor, Chris Evans, due to his shoulder–waist ratio (Fanlore n.d.). 19. On the sexualization of women in video games, see, e.g.: Ray (2004: 18–36) and Mejia and LeSavoy (2018). For discussion of women’s hypersexualized appearances in Classical video games, see Orellana Figueroa and Persyn in this volume (pp. 38–40; 54–5). 20. Alan_Kim (2009). 21. On which, see Gray (2018: 1–2), Ray (2004) and Lowe’s discussion in this volume (p.16). 22. Robinson: ‘When you read the story of the Golden Fleece, the reason Jason is going to get the Golden Fleece is just because someone told him to. So, we thought, let’s walk this through logically. What does the Golden Fleece do? It brings people back to life. If we want to create a good story that people understand, we must need the Golden Fleece – so somebody must have died’ (2008). 23. ‘Heteronormativity’ is a term first coined by Warner (1991), and developed by Berlant and Warner, who explain the term as follows:

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Women in Classical Video Games By heteronormativity we mean the institutions, structures of understanding, and practical orientations that make heterosexuality seem not only coherent – that is, organized as a sexuality – but also privileged . . . Heteronormativity is thus a concept distinct from heterosexuality. One of the most conspicuous differences is that it has no parallel, unlike heterosexuality, which organizes homosexuality as its opposite. Because homosexuality can never have the invisible, tacit, society-founding rightness that heterosexuality has, it would not be possible to speak of ‘homonormativity’ in the same sense. 1998 24. Barringer (1996: 50). 25. Johnston (1997: 8). 26. Vernant (1991: 138). 27. ‘πέρι γὰρ μενέαινεν ἕπεσθαι / τὴν ὁδόν· ἀλλ’, ὅσον αὐτὸς ἑκών, ἀπερήτυε κούρην, / δεῖσε γὰρ ἀργαλέας ἔριδας φιλότητος ἕκητι’ 1.771–3. 28. As noted by Fränkel (1968: 104). 29. Aelian, Varia Historia 13.1, where she is daughter of Iasios. 30. Hyginus 185 refers to Atalanta as daughter of Schoenus. 31. Pseudo-Apollodorus, Bibliotheca 3.105–9: here, Atalanta is daughter of Iasos, but with disputed parentage. 32. On which, see Barringer (1996). 33. Aelian, Varia Historia 13.1.67: ‘ἀρρενωπὸν δὲ καὶ γοργὸν ἔβλεπε.’ 34. Lovatt (2021). 35. Ibid. 36. In a video interview for GameSpot from July 2007, Del Castillo mentions ‘Hercules, Achilles, Perseus: some really great mythological heroes,’ omitting any mention of Atalanta. 37. Our main ancient sources for Medea’s story are Apollonius’ Argonautica and Euripides’ Medea. 38. This is detailed particularly in Apollonius’ Argonautica, Pindar’s 4th Pythian, and Valerius Flaccus’ Argonautica. 39. This Corinthian episode is the focus of Euripides’ Medea, the 12th poem of Ovid’s Heroides, Seneca’s Medea. 40. As summarized by Johnston: ‘Medea was represented by the Greeks as a complex figure, fraught with conflicting desires and exhibiting an extraordinary range of behavior’ (1997: 6). 41. On which, see e.g. Bongie (1977) and Foley (2001: 243–71). 42. Johnston: ‘In seeking to understand the powerful hold that Medea has had upon our imaginations for almost three millennia, therefore, we must embrace her complexity and look within it for the secret of her longevity’ (1997: 6–7). 43. Clare (2021: 52). 44. On which, see Vernant (1991) and Keith (2018b). 45. Gloyn (2019: 143). 46. Before RotA, Medusa featured commonly as an enemy in video games, such as the Castlevania series, the Final Fantasy series, God of War, Kid Icarus. 47. More detailed discussion of Medusa as monstrous in video games can be found in Goad’s chapter in this volume (pp. 67–9).

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CHAPTER 7 GOOD RIDDANCE: REFIGURING EURYDICE IN SUPERGIANT’S HADES Kira Jones

There is no shortage of classical video games. Whether you want strategy, action, platform, role-playing or any combination thereof, there is a classically themed video game ready to help you live out your sword and sandal fantasy.1 Unfortunately, the vast majority of these games were created under the assumption that the majority of gamers are heterosexual men who are interested in dominating the battlefield – and the bedroom. Female characters are especially prone to hypersexualization, such as God of War III (Santa Monica Studio, 2010), in which the ‘fight’ with Aphrodite is the male protagonist Kratos walking in on a lesbian orgy; the player then completes a mini game while listening to Aphrodite and her topless handmaidens cry out in ecstasy and admiration.2 Smite (Hi-Rez 2014) caters to its allegedly male player-base by clothing Athena in a bronze bikini over a short dress; Aphrodite wears a barely there bikini while Bellona gets a full suit of platemail . . . minus pants.3 More recent games have tended towards more progressive depictions of women, although these gains have not been without struggle; Ubisoft’s marketing decisions regarding Odyssey’s Kassandra and Alexios are one example, along with Total War: Troy’s Amazon faction.4 Fortunately, not all studios are quite so regressive. California-based Supergiant Games, which developed its first game Bastion in 2011 and has since released three other increasingly ambitious titles, consistently offers thoughtful, beautifully designed characters of all genders (and non-genders). The games which they inhabit are engaging, narratively driven experiences that privilege your relationship with characters in the game rather than your participation in a power fantasy. Their most recent offering, Hades (2020), builds on their previous catalogue to buck the trend of hypersexualized women and features a cast of mythical women who, together with the male protagonist, model consent, empowerment and mutual respect between characters.5 Eurydice has by far the most radical change in character, and will be examined here.

The Orphic experience Hades follows the journey of Zagreus, son of Hades, as he fights his way through various levels of the Underworld to escape to the surface and find his mother, Persephone.6 Along the way, he enlists the help of various Olympians and develops relationships with chthonic figures such as Cerberus, the Furies, Thanatos and a floating gorgon head named Dusa; all of their aid is required to eventually break free of the Underworld long 103

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enough to convince Persephone to return. While Supergiant did extensive research into both primary literary and artistic sources, the sheer number of variations in classical Underworld mythology enabled them to pick some versions, leave aside others and add new material as needed for a cohesive and engaging narrative. With Eurydice they chose to step back from established trends in modern retellings, instead pulling focus to Eurydice herself and what happened after Orpheus was out of the picture. Orpheus himself has long been the focus of reception works.7 Orpheus, a divinely talented musician whose songs could charm everything from beasts to trees and rocks, fell in love with a nymph named Eurydice. They wed but Eurydice was bitten by a snake shortly after the ceremony and died, leaving Orpheus bereft. He was no ordinary musician however, and travelled to the Underworld to reclaim her. He charmed Hades and Persephone enough with his songs that they granted him a chance; he could lead Eurydice out of the Underworld and back to life, provided he did not look back until he was in the mortal realm. Whether through fear, doubt or pre-emptive joy, he glanced back at her at the last minute and she was snatched away, lost to him forever. His grief was immeasurable and he swore to love no other woman (although, depending on the source, boys may have been negotiable). Eventually he was torn apart by a group of maenads and his disembodied head floated to Lesbos, singing the entire way, and birthed an oracle. It should be noted here that the most action Eurydice sees is as a catalyst for Orpheus’ katabasis; she becomes his wife so that she can die and he can become a tragic hero attempting to thwart the natural order of the universe for the sake of love. The focus is not on her death, but on his loss of her; not on her missed chance at rebirth, or even whether she wants to be reborn or not, but on Orpheus’ mistake and the sheer monumentality of his grief. Unfortunately, ancient accounts are not much kinder to her. The ancient Eurydice is almost as elusive for us to grasp as her shade was for Orpheus. While Orpheus can be identified in art as early as c. 560 bce (on the metopes of the Sikyonian monopteros at Delphi), there is no clear mention of Eurydice in either art or literature until 5 bce . Pseudo-Erastothenes says that Orpheus went down into Hades on account of his wife, but does not name her (Ps-Erastothenes Katast.24). Gantz posits that since Dionysos was also mentioned in this passage, Orpheus’ death was likely covered in Aeschylus’ Lykourgos cycle and, perhaps, his quest to resurrect his wife. She is mentioned in two accounts of Alcestis and Admetus; Plato asserts that the gods were more impressed with Alcestis’ self-sacrifice than Orpheus’ quest and so conjured a phasma (apparition) for him to try and rescue rather than her actual shade (Plato Symp. 179b–d). Alternatively, Euripides has Admetus proclaim that if he himself had Orpheus’ powers he would rescue Alcestis himself, rather than letting Herakles do it (Alk. 357–62). It should be noted that all of these refer to Eurydice simply as Orpheus’ wife and do not give her a name; the first concrete usage of Eurydice as Orpheus’ wife is from Moschos (Lament for Bion 3.123–4). The artistic record is even less helpful, as Eurydice is absent from archaic and most classical art; the earliest artistic representation we have of Eurydice appears some 200 years later than that of Orpheus.8 104

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Ovid’s Metamorphoses is the first extant and complete recounting of the tale and sets the standard for most later versions.9 Yet, despite nearly all of book ten either dealing with Orpheus or being narrated by him, Eurydice is still relegated to the background as a catalyst for his tragic arc.10 Of the 739 lines in the book, only 11.5 per cent (lines 1–85) comprise the story of Orpheus and Eurydice. Within those eighty-five lines, Eurydice is referenced only ten times. We meet her early on as a nupta (bride, line 8), albeit after Hymen has been summoned by Orpheus and put a damper on the whole affair with his bad omens. This one reference to her as a living being marks her as a thing, a bride, and only in the context of her death at the wedding. While Orpheus is mentioned by name (Orphea) in line three, we have to get through the disastrous wedding, Orpheus’ grief, and his journey through the underworld before we hear about Eurydice again. After her death, Eurydice transitions from a nupta to a coniunx, a wife. This descriptor is used three times; the second reference to her in line 23, when Orpheus states the reason for his journey; the sixth reference in line 38, when Orpheus is negotiating the terms of her release; and the last reference in line 64, when Orpheus is overwhelmed by her second death. Eurydice is most often referred to with mere pronouns, however. Illa, hanc, and haec are used four times to indicate her indirect participation in the narrative. Unlike coniunx, which establishes her post-mortem relationship to Orpheus and is used to indicate her as the cause of his journey, the beneficiary of his request, and the cause of his new grief, pronouns are used when Eurydice is being (potentially or otherwise) acted upon. In line 36, Orpheus states that she, haec, will be yours; even if she is resurrected it’s only temporary, and she will eventually return to Hades anyway. In line 37, he ‘pro munere poscimus usum’, asks to enjoy [her] as a gift, with the understanding that he will be able to enjoy her youthful years without fear of recompense. Notably, she is excluded from these negotiations. He then receives her (line 50) and soon after loses her (line 57) as she, illa, is swept back to Hades as a result of his impatience. Once again dead, she returns to being a coniunx (wife). Eurydice is only twice referred to by name, and both of those in the context of Orpheus’ transaction with Persephone and Hades. While Orpheus initially introduces her as his wife, he asks that the fate of Eurydice specifically be undone by the chthonic rulers. She is referred to twice more by pronoun and once more by wife before Persephone and Hades seal the deal by summoning Eurydice with her proper name. As explained above, she reverts to a pronoun immediately afterwards and remains so until her last mention in line 64. Orpheus, meanwhile, is either referred to as Orphea (line 3) or his heroic moniker Rhodopeius (lines 11 and 50). Thus, despite Ovid’s version being the source of most Orpheus and Eurydice adaptations since, Eurydice is little more than an actor in Orpheus’ play. She is at best a bride and at worst a simple pronoun; her name is only used to seal the terms of a contract in which she has no say. While she does have one line of dialogue, a wispy ‘farewell’ in line 57, it is spoken by the pronoun and serves more to underline Orpheus’ tragedy than to give her any sort of agency. 105

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The carefree muse This is where Supergiant’s vision of Eurydice differs most drastically. We meet her first, which perhaps makes sense as Zagreus (and by extension the player) is undergoing a reverse katabasis to the surface, in an isolated section of Asphodel. Rather than the pale, classically-drawn white woman we usually see in depictions of the story, Supergiant’s Eurydice is a brilliantly-hued woman of colour.11 She is tall and lithe, with intricately tattooed bark skin and a brilliant canopy of oak foliage pulled up into an afro coiffure. Her character portrait, to the left of the dialogue box whenever she is interacted with, has none of the shrinking passivity of Ovid’s Eurydice either. She faces the viewer in a threequarter turn, hands on hips and head cocked to the side as she chews thoughtfully on an oak twig. She confidently meets our eyes as if we have just interrupted her, which, per her character animation, we usually have – upon entering the room, Eurydice is either engaging with her cooking paraphernalia or much later in the game, singing a duet. The game is set after the heroic age, meaning that various mythical mortal characters (Achilles, Theseus, Sisyphus) can make an appearance and Zagreus has sometimes heard stories of them. This is not the case with Eurydice and so, while the player may already be familiar with the myth, the game assumes that we are not and therefore gives Eurydice the chance to make an impression that is entirely her own. This is done in three ways: through visuals, dialogue, and the codex entry that grows as you continue to build a relationship with her. As discussed above, she is visually set apart from other shades by her arboreal physiognomy. Where characters such as Theseus or Sisyphus may have exaggerated physiques they are still more or less human. In making

Figure 7.1 Eurydice and Orpheus from Supergiant’s Hades, 2018. Art by Jen Zee. Courtesy of Supergiant Games, LLC.

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Eurydice (herself a nymph rather than a full human) tree-like, Zee further accentuates the divide between her characterization and standard canons of representation. This Eurydice is different, and everything about her visually prepares the reader for this new, self-assured woman.12 Second, the codex entry provides some mythological background but leaves out any mention of Orpheus by name.13 The first section, which is all players have access to for the first few interactions, tells us that: Mortality and immortality are closer than most gods care to believe. There are such minor gods as can be killed. So it is with nymphs, and all the naiads and the dryads and the like, the spirits of the woods, and seas, and skies; in life, they captivate our mortal senses and imagination, but in death, we all are more alike. As far as the codex is concerned at this point, Eurydice is one of these minor gods that can be killed but nothing more specific than that. Third, Eurydice characterizes herself with both dialogue and song. Upon entering her dedicated section of Asphodel, her voice is apparent long before she herself is visible. She sings an original composition, Good Riddance, which exemplifies her view of the afterlife.14 The song begins, ‘Farewell / To all the earthly remains / No burdens / No further debts to be paid / Atlas / Can rest his weary bones / The weight of the world / All falls away / In time.’ Rather than the all-consuming grief that we are used to getting in Orpheus-centric tellings, Eurydice sings of relief and peace. All of her debts, burdens, and earthly obligations have been erased in death and she can lay aside the crushing burden of worldly matters. The second verse continues, ‘Goodbye / To all the plans that we made / No contracts/ I’m free to do as I may / No hunger / No sleep except to dream / Mild and warm / Safe from all harm / Calm.’ Here she refers once again to worldly obligations, both in terms of relationships and survival. She has let go of plans made during life and is no longer bound by contracts; this possibly refers to plans of a life with Orpheus and the contract of their marriage, or the contract for her freedom between Orpheus and the Underworld gods. She does not need to eat or sleep, but can do so for pleasure. She is safe and free from all fear. In short, her time is now her own and she can spend it however she pleases without fear of reprisal. The third and last verse of the song echoes this sentiment and reiterates her determination to embrace the situation. She proclaims, ‘Good riddance / To all the thieves / To all the fools that stifled me / They’ve come and gone / And passed me by / Good riddance / To all.’ While it is not clear what fools and thieves she refers to, she is clearly happy with their absence. Without anyone to stifle her or any obligations to eat up her time, she is finally free to explore her own potential. This is not a Eurydice who is defined only by her connection to (and separation from) Orpheus. This is a woman who has found empowerment in the afterlife and is determined to make the most of it. Her dialogue reflects this view to a lesser degree. The narrator gives us (and Zagreus) a brief introduction to the area, stating that ‘from within a humble residence in Asphodel 107

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reverberates the golden-sounding voice of lorn Eurydice, who once attempted to escape the Underworld and failed, utterly, much like Prince Zagreus.’15 The narrator refers to her attempted flight but stops short of naming Orpheus or indicating that anyone else was involved. Presumably he does this because it makes for a better insult, but it also gives Eurydice credit where it would normally go to Orpheus; she is the one with the golden voice, and she was in charge of the (failed) escape attempt. Upon interacting with her for the first time we learn her title, ‘Carefree Muse’. She introduces herself with a simple, ‘Nice to meet you, I’m Eurydice,’ before informing Zagreus that, ‘I’ll let you go, but there’s one rule in my place, which is no one leaves empty handed.’ The player can then choose between three consumables (ambrosia delight, pom porridge, and refreshing nectar) which Eurydice has made in her humble Asphodel residence. At the end of this interaction, we are left with three pieces of information: she once attempted to escape the Underworld but has let go of worldly matters and is now carefree (muse refers to a later plot development discussed below), she is a nymph named Eurydice, and she likes cooking. Our introduction to Orpheus plays as inverse to that of Eurydice. Where we followed her voice and were welcomed into her home, Orpheus is introduced by an empty chair in the House of Hades. Once he does appear in the flesh (relatively speaking), we learn that he had been cast into solitary confinement within Tartarus for failing to carry out his duties as court musician. Eurydice’s vibrant colours are countered by his pale, drawn visage and dour garments; her direct gaze and stance, ‘proud and supple as the oak’, matched by his slouch and woeful disengagement. Even his voice, a wispy and wavering tenor, is inverse to her strong inflection and tone. Zagreus, unfamiliar with their story, does not immediately learn of Orpheus’ connection with Eurydice. The first few conversations with him establish his character, as with Eurydice. Unlike her, his current state is very clearly tied to his mythological story; he refuses to sing and is unable to move on from his failure, even as he refuses to do anything about it.16 Despite threats from Hades and the encouragement of his friends, Orpheus continues to lurk in despondent silence. Subsequent conversations get Orpheus to reveal that the reason for his silence is ‘that I have lost my muse, my friend. It isn’t harder to explain than that’. He does not elaborate further, other than to confirm that he is no longer searching for her and expresses his happiness that Zagreus is still striving for his own goals. Zagreus, ever the optimistic busybody, refuses to let go of the matter and we eventually learn that Orpheus had tried and failed to rescue his mysterious muse back when he was still alive. Despite his reticence, Orpheus is soon cajoled by Zagreus into describing ‘My muse . . . never has somebody been as splendorous as my Eurydice . . .! She was so gentle, yet so stout of heart that it would make yours ache, just thinking on it. She inspired innumerable songs of mine.’ Notably, Zagreus has visited Eurydice multiple times before now but since Orpheus had only referred to her as a muse (not unlike Ovid’s coniunx) and Eurydice had refrained from discussing her past in detail, he was unaware of the connection. Exhibiting an unusual amount of forethought, he excuses himself from the conversation and does not say anything else until he meets Eurydice in Asphodel again. 108

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Predictably, he is terrible at hiding things and Eurydice greets him with, ‘Hey, hon, what’s going on, speak up! I know when something’s up down to my roots, and something’s up.’ Zagreus continues, ‘Well it’s just, I think that you may know an Orpheus, don’t you? Quite musically inclined, a little dour, impressive hair? He’s court musician in my father’s house. Calls you his muse. Says he misses you terribly. I . . . thought you should know.’ At this point, one might expect some sort of romantic confession from Eurydice, praising Orpheus’ efforts to rescue her and lamenting their separation. However, this self-assured daughter of the oak does no such thing. She points out the ridiculousness of Orpheus’ quest to come ‘all this way to try and save me, even though I was already dead’ and suggests that Zagreus ask Orpheus about when next they meet. When Zagreus says that he didn’t mean to upset her, she doubles down and states that, ‘Yeah, well, neither did he! But you know what? Actions beat intentions, hon,’ before kicking him out of her house. ‘Actions beat intentions’ could well be the motto for Orpheus and Eurydice’s relationship in Hades. Orpheus’ intentions have devolved into a definite lack of action, while ‘gentle’ Eurydice answers his earlier intentions with action of her own. Thus, while he is lurking in a self-made pit of despair she is moving on with her (after)life. Orpheus’ lack of action continues to define his response when Zagreus admits that he found Eurydice, ‘doing fine up there! All on her own. You said the two of you were very close, isn’t that right?’ Orpheus replies that they were more than close as she was both wife and muse to him, falling back into his Ovidian habit of referring to her by role rather than name. He laments, ‘To think that we are doomed to be apart during our afterlives. Ah, well . . . I do not wish to trouble her again, my friend. Speak not to her of me, all right? I have my memory of her; it is enough.’ Despite Zagreus’ incredulity and offer of assistance, Orpheus has resigned himself to the memory of Eurydice and the grief of her absence rather than risking a reunion. Orpheus’ grief was legendary, but there is no close parallel to this choice between Orpheus and anyone else in ancient sources. We do find a similar exchange in the 2019 film Portrait of a Lady on Fire, in which the two main characters (Héloïse and Marianne) switch back and forth between Orphic and Eurydicean roles. At one point, they analyse the section of Ovid’s Metamorphoses where Orpheus looks back, and attempt to decipher his reasoning. Marianne suggests that Orpheus made the ‘poet’s choice’, valuing his memory of her over the woman herself.17 Although Orpheus’ artistic ability is inaccessible due to Eurydice’s absence, he still makes the poet’s choice of memory over actuality. In requesting that Zagreus leave well enough alone and stating that he is content with the memory of her, he is, in essence, constantly looking back. He chooses to dwell in the moment of loss rather than take any real steps towards a reunion, which is perhaps why he only referred to her as a muse until shortly before this conversation with Zagreus took place. Eurydice, on the other hand, lives fully in the present. Unlike Ovid, for whom Orpheus was only guilty of loving her, this Carefree Muse isn’t letting her ex off the hook so easily. Zagreus once again tries to act as intermediary, despite Orpheus asking him not to, and promptly gets reprimanded by Eurydice: 109

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Don’t tell me you’ve come all the way from Tartarus to ask me more about your good for nothing court musician friend . . . let me see if I understand. Orpheus blew it with me like an idiot, but now I’m supposed to be reaching out to him? Sorry, hon, but that’s not happening. The two of us are finished. And, you know what? I think we’re finished here, too. If you’ll excuse me! She not only refuses to do the emotional labour of patching up the relationship, she ends the conversation promptly by kicking Zagreus out of her house. With the ball of atonement back in Orpheus’ court, we finally begin to see some personal growth from the dour poet. He asks about Eurydice by name, although he still will not entertain the idea of attempting to rekindle their relationship: ‘Alas, I cannot change the past, my friend. So, no. As you can plainly see by now, I’m dead to her. Rightfully so, at that.’ When Zagreus points out that death is just a technicality at this point Orpheus affirms that he would love to see Eurydice more than anything, ‘Provided she wanted to see me. I tried once to disturb her everlasting rest, as you well know. And that did not pan out as I had hoped . . .’ He acknowledges that her consent matters, and intimates that he realizes he did not consider it the first time he tried to reunite with her. He even admits later, after Eurydice tells Zagreus and Zagreus brings it up to him, that, ‘I owe my everything to my Eurydice. She authored many of my songs, indeed; and she inspired many, many more. Whilst living, we collaborated frequently, you see.’ Now much more than a muse and a wife, Eurydice is revealed to have been an active partner in Orpheus’ career. It is her role as collaborator that ends up being the catalyst for their eventual reunion. Zagreus obtains the score for her newest song ‘Good Riddance’ and brings it to Orpheus, who not only starts singing it but (with lots of help from Zagreus) comes up with a plan to ‘make certain that [his listeners in the House] know whose songs I sing,’ thus insisting that she receive the professional recognition which she lacked in life. As for Eurydice, she drifts occasionally into memory but ultimately keeps herself grounded in the present. She asks Zagreus how Orpheus has been doing and if his hair is still styled, but qualifies it by musing that ‘his tan must have faded by now.’ She does seem to recognize Orpheus’ fragility, especially in light of her own resilience, when she says that, ‘Music’s his gift. Good to know he’s not thrown everything away.’ Considering that her former husband is someone who was so incapable of moving on after her death that he treated with the very rulers of the Underworld to resurrect her (or, as Zagreus puts it, ‘I think the experience of trying to rescue you, failing, dying, becoming court musician, refusing to sing, then being locked in solitary confinement, then finding out about you probably did a number on him’), she is probably right to be cautious in her expectations. Despite this knowledge, or perhaps because of it, she still expects Zagreus (and by extension Orpheus) to offer the initial olive branch: E What happens now, hon . . .? What I mean is . . . now you got me thinking about Orpheus again, so . . . what am I supposed to do with that? 110

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Z Even if you can’t be together right now, I hope it feels better knowing how much he cares for you. And I will try to pull some strings, like you said. I can’t make promises where my father’s concerned, but . . . I’ll do everything I can. E Well, what can I tell you? Thanks, Your Royal Majesty. That means a lot. No pressure, though. I’ve been all right without him all this time, and I will be all right, no matter what. If only he could say the same. Zagreus bears responsibility for continuing to interfere, despite both affected parties telling him not to. Thus, Eurydice lays the burden of reaction at his feet. She was perfectly happy until he kept bringing up her ex, so what is he going to do to fix the situation? It is at this point that we get the final section of her codex entry, and discover the heart of her character: resilience. Even if Zagreus fails, as Orpheus once did, she’ll be all right. The codex reads that she ‘took a suitor who, by most accounts, was but a common mortal; talented beyond compare, but not a god. Yet, all the love they shared could not keep death from tearing them apart. She bears a special mention here for having almost fled the Underworld, once. Such was the full-hearted devotion of her mate, that he did venture all the way into this realm, in search of her, and treated with the Master for her soul. They say the Master almost let her go. But when he finally refused, she grieved, but she did not despair. Even in death, she moved on with her life.’ Here, we once again return to the myth and find modern Eurydice’s place within it. She loved a mortal (the emphasis on her agency in taking a suitor should be noted here), was parted from him by death, and he was so devoted that he ventured into the Underworld to bargain with Hades and bring her back. This echoes Ovid’s sentiment about Orpheus’ only fault being his love for Eurydice, but pulls the focus back from him and onto Eurydice. When she died again she grieved but, unlike Orpheus, did not despair. As he refused to move on with the life he still possessed, she moved on with hers in death and eventually acts as the catalyst that spurs Orpheus to move on with his afterlife as well.

She grieved, but did not despair If not from myth, where does this modern Eurydice come from? She bears some resemblance to the Eurydice in Portrait of a Lady on Fire, whom Marianne suggests told Orpheus to look back herself. However, the film shifts roles and while both women do move on with their lives, they also frequently look back and it is unclear whether either one ever truly moves beyond the moment of loss at the precipice of the Underworld. Eurydice does find close parallels in Supergiant’s previous games, notably with Bastion’s Zia and Transistor’s Red. Bastion (2011) was the studio’s first release and follows the Kid as he seeks to restore his world after the Calamity, a catastrophic event that wiped out everyone except for himself, an elderly man named Rucks who narrates the game, and two members of the Ura people, Zulf and Zia. 111

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As with Eurydice, the player’s first introduction to Zia is through music. We follow the sound of her voice through the level until we find her with her guitar and recruit her to return to camp with us. Through Rulf ’s exposition, we learn that she was raised in the city, Caelondia, and though she knows little of her heritage she was constantly bullied and ostracized for it as a child. A supposed friend manipulated her into trying to return to the Ura, at which point her father is blackmailed into servitude and she is left on her own. When she disappears later in the game the Kid, assuming she has been kidnapped, traverses the game world in search of her only to find that she had left willingly and was not, in fact, in need of a rescue. At the end of the game, she represents one of two paths forward; the Kid can either side with Rulf and turn back the clock to how things were before the Calamity, or side with Zia and move on. Greg Kasavin, Creative Director at Supergiant, has characterized Zia as ‘a source of hope in Bastion’s post-Calamity world. Through her, we see that the situation may not be as bleak as it initially appeared. Her life is better after the Calamity; she has internalized and moved past any sense of survivor’s guilt, and accepts that she has a new opportunity to live a better life.’18 Much like Eurydice, she moved through the trauma in her life and built a better future for herself. Transistor (2014) follows a beloved singer-songwriter named Red, who was attacked by a hostile robotic force called ‘Process’ at the behest of a shadowy organization known as the ‘Camerata’. While Red’s companion saved her life, his consciousness and her own voice were absorbed into the greatsword-like ‘Transistor’. Red, together with her talking sword partner, must then fight through a city that is rapidly being consumed by the Process and defeat the Camerata. Transistor also plays with the idea of lost voices and choosing to move on (or not) after loss. Red and her partner ultimately undergo a reversal of roles; she becomes silent but capable of great action, while he loses his ability to act but becomes the main voice (narrator) of the game. Asked about the use and loss of voices, Kasavin notes that: In Transistor, we sought to make the “silent protagonist” idea a direct part of the story. Transistor explores what it means to have a voice in society. Red is a character whose influential voice is taken from her as part of the story, though despite not having her literal voice anymore, she can still take powerful action as well as communicate when she decides it’s necessary to do so. Her companion, meanwhile, loses his body and is reduced only to a voice.19 Ultimately, Red chooses to regain her voice and join her partner permanently in the Transistor rather than reshape the city; unlike in Bastion, the player is offered no choice in the matter. In the end, despite her partner’s insistence otherwise, Red chooses her own destiny. Although Eurydice keeps her voice and Red loses hers, we see a similar level of empowerment between the two women and perhaps, in Red, a glimpse of what Eurydice would have been like had her and Orpheus’ roles been reversed. Red’s journey through the game is essentially a katabasis. As she fights through a city that has been increasingly 112

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taken over by the Process, the world around her becomes more and more detached from reality. Buildings give way to white cubes, robots wander the streets in lieu of people, and at one point she enters the body of a Leviathan that is more Klimt painting than creature. Finally, after navigating a fully Processed district in which everything is white cubes and the rules of physics have ceased to apply, she enters the Transistor itself. Upon defeating the final boss within, she is sent back to the city with the knowledge and power to rebuild it. If we map her journey on to the katabatic formula proposed by Scherer and Falconer, we see a roughly Orphic story begin to emerge. Rather than a (male) hero who travels to the land of the dead to gain something vital to his quest, such as a loved one, superpowers, or information, we have Red travelling through the Processed city of Cloudbank and into the Transistor to regain her partner and her voice. Where the hero would have reunions with heroes and people he knew that would remind him of his past and act as a foil to his destined future, Red has conversations with her sword companion about their shared past and finds dossiers on the elite of Cloudbank, who have now been Processed and are able to share skills and powers with her.20 All of these are echoes of the Cloudbank from her past, which she can never fully recover. Red’s katabatic journey is not entirely successful, however, and here we find the closest parallel between her and Eurydice. When she exits the Transistor she has what should be the ultimate goal of the game; the power and knowledge to undo what the Process did to her city. What she does not have are her voice and a physically realized partner. When she returns to her partner’s body she finds it too battered to accept the return of his consciousness and must face the prospect of a life without him. That is certainly his choice for her, as he urges her to move on and make the city a better place. Yet, this is Red’s story, even if she wasn’t the one to narrate it. She chooses to be content in death and commits suicide, joining her partner in the Transistor and regaining her voice while leaving the heroic task of rebuilding the city to someone else. Like Orpheus, Red travelled to an Underworld to bring back her partner and was ultimately unsuccessful. Also, like Orpheus, she loses her musical ability. The crucial difference between her and Orpheus, however, is that when faced with failure she chose death rather than despair and for that, she regained both her partner and her voice. In Eurydice’s conversations with Zagreus, we learn that she is furious with Orpheus for many things, but is especially indignant that he tried to rescue her when she was already dead. Apart from upending the natural order he negated any agency she might have had in the matter and, in rejecting the reality of her death, rejected his own ability to move forward without her. Red accepts the reality of her partner’s death and chooses to move forward by joining him. When Eurydice is eventually reunited with Orpheus, she again becomes the catalyst that enables him to thrive. They start singing together again and Orpheus once more fulfils his duty as court musician; she keeps him focused on the future and he seems to finally grasp the moral of his own story.21 In ignoring her partner’s idea of what’s best for her, she leads them both into an afterlife of contentment. 113

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The Eurydice of Hades is about as different from that of classical myth as it is possible to be. She is an outspoken, self-possessed woman of colour who was a true partner and collaborator for Orpheus during their life. In death, rather than drifting through eternity as a memory of Orpheus’ heartbreaking failure she picks herself up and makes a new afterlife for herself in which she can be happy and self-sufficient; a narrative arc that Supergiant is especially qualified to write. As with Bastion’s Zia, she endures her trauma and comes out on the other side free of guilt and looking towards a brighter future. Like Transistor’s Red she grieves but does not despair, and chooses how she wants her story to end regardless of what others had planned for her. Is it any wonder that such a character also bucks the trend of catering to an assumed male gaze?

Notes 1. TV tropes defines sword and sandal works as ‘a particular kind of Period Piece set in ancient biblical or mythological times’. See: https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/ SwordAndSandal (accessed 15 March 2021). 2. See Ciaccia in this volume pp. 128–146 for a full discussion, and Clare (2021): 55–6. 3. Not all the goddesses are hypersexualized; see Beydler pp. 116–27 for goddesses in Smite and Orellana Figueroa pp. 36–41 for sexualized armour, both in this volume. However, the game has also received complaints from the Universal Society of Hinduism due to its inclusion of Hindu gods, and in particular Kali’s original outfit of strategically placed bits of fabric and not much else (Gonzalez 2012). 4. See pp. 2–5 in this volume. 5. Regarding terminology, Supergiant’s video game Hades will be distinguished by italics while Hades, without italics, refers to the god himself. The realm of Hades will be referred to as the Underworld. 6. Supergiant opted to have Zagreus be raised by Nyx, unaware of his birth mother until the events of the game. His role in the Orphic Mysteries is not canon here but is mentioned numerous times, most notably when Dionysos suggests to Zagreus that they play a prank on Orpheus and tell him that they are, in fact, the same god. Orpheus believes the story and, determined to get the word out, immediately composes a Hymn to Zagreus that recounts the Orphic mythology. 7. Bernstock (1991: xv–xvii). 8. Gantz (1993: 722–3). 9. Ovid Met. X. 10. Ovid Met. XI.61–6 does reunite the two characters after Orpheus’ death; he seeks her out in the Fields of the Blessed. Eurydice gains a bit of independence, as she is referred to by her name twice and is able to walk in front on occasion, but the overall tone is still that of a reward for Orpheus. 11. Eurydice and all other characters were designed by Supergiant’s art director, Jen Zee. For more on the racial diversity of character design, see Parrish (2020), and Bernstock (1991) for earlier artistic versions of Eurydice. 12. Her vibrant colouring and accessories link her visually with the furies, gods and other non-human characters; this compliments her codex entry and reminds players that she is not a mere mortal.

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Good Riddance 13. The codex itself acts as an in-game dictionary of enemies, characters, places and objects of note. It was canonically written by Achilles (hired by Hades to teach Zagreus how to fight) after his death but has largely disappeared at the start of the game. As one interacts more with the subject of each entry, more and more information is revealed. 14. Lyrics and music by Darren Korb, performed by Ashley Barrett. 15. It is worth noting that the narrator is prone to exaggeration and has an antagonistic relationship with Zagreus, who can hear him and often replies accordingly. Whenever the opportunity presents itself, the narrator will use the situation at hand to make his opinion of the prince known. 16. The game makes no mention of what happened between looking back and dying himself, although his visual similarity to Neil Gaiman’s Morpheus character may allude to the Sandman episodes which do contain the bacchantes, dismemberment and brief oracular stint (Gaiman 1991). 17. Stevens (2020) has analysed the interplay between the two women, as well as the interchange of memory and art within the film. Our Orpheus has no physical reminders of Eurydice but he does use vivid language in his descriptions of her. 18. Personal correspondence between Greg Kasavin and the author, 3 October 2020. 19. Ibid. 20. Scherer (2019: 2–3) and Falconer (2007: 3). 21. Over drinks, Orpheus tries to impress upon Zagreus the importance of not looking back.

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CHAPTER 8 RECEPTION AND REPRESENTATION OF GRAECOROMAN GODDESSES IN SMITE : BATTLEGROUND OF THE GODS Katherine Beydler

Introduction SMITE: Battleground of the Gods is a multiplayer online battle arena (MOBA) developed by Titan Forge Games and published by Hi-Rez Studios. Other games in the genre include League of Legends and Defense of the Ancients (DOTA) and DOTA 2. SMITE draws around 25,000 players a day on Steam and has about 30 million unique players worldwide.1 No continuous narrative underpins gameplay, which takes place in individual matches lasting thirty to sixty minutes. While playable characters in MOBA games sometimes draw on historical or mythological characters, they are generally invented for the game. SMITE’s playable characters are directly inspired by gods from sixteen groups of world religions and mythologies. About a third come from either the Greek or Roman pantheons,2 and fifteen of those are female. Unlike many games that rely on the history or mythology of the ancient Mediterranean to inspire story arcs, SMITE uses it only to inspire character design and aspects of the game environment. In this chapter, I argue that this flexible but narrow form of reception offers an interpretation of women from classical antiquity nuanced in its presentation of femininity and emphatic about the diverse and powerful roles played by women in ancient mythology. Because SMITE decouples reception of ancient myth from adherence to particular narrative outcomes and norms (e.g. the rise and fall of Rome), it focuses instead on important thematic elements belonging to individual characters. This gives players an opportunity to get to know the ‘feeling’ of a goddess without all the details of her story and often expands character design away from romantic relationships. Additionally, because about half of the game’s playable characters are women, female characters assume more prominence than they do in many other video games. On the Battleground of the Gods, all enter as equals. I will also demonstrate that this narrow, thematic reception in SMITE’s characters makes them an excellent avenue for starting discussions of reception in the classroom. Students do not have to consider an overwhelming number of story elements as they begin to analyse how the myths they know from ancient texts and images are used in a game setting. Translating a variety of primary sources into a game character is a challenging but limited exercise that students can explore as critics and designers; the deceptively straightforward process teaches them to ask questions about purpose, 116

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audience and author in both the ancient text and modern game. I will share teaching strategies for introducing characters from SMITE to the classroom using in addition to discussing the reception of women in the game.

Game and gameplay In the most popular mode of gameplay, ‘Conquest’, two teams of five players choose characters and compete to destroy their opposition’s base encampment, with the goal of defeating the enemy ‘Titan’, a non-player boss character. There is no continuity between matches. Each playable character in SMITE has five unique abilities. These, along with the physical character design, voice acting and speech lines, create the entire apparatus through which players interact with the story of that character in-game.

Game design: Variations on a theme Many games that draw on the ancient Mediterranean themes do so directly and take the majority of narrative and environmental elements from mythological or historical texts. Turn-based games like Civilization loosely follow historical state-foundation and war narratives and rely on ‘a mixture of sheer facts and dates, and violent conflict presented in excruciating detail’ to immerse players in the game’s story framework.3 Open-world roleplaying games like Assassin’s Creed or the 2018 God of War include invented elements or alternative historical storylines for the sake of gameplay while still including characters and settings from ancient myth and history. As others in this volume mention, many of these games also subordinate or simplify the role of women in the past. Design often relies on straightforward martial narratives, which rarely feature women extensively, or on stories that cast women in roles stereotypical of modern or ancient prejudices. Orellana Figueroa discusses in his introduction in Chapter 2 how historical games often reflect popular knowledge about the past as well as shape it. For players, this sometimes means that historical accuracy is less important in design than creating a perception of contextual authenticity, which relies on audience impression.4 Perhaps for this reason, or because of an erroneous belief in a predominantly male player base, male protagonists are far more common in general than women.5 As I will discuss below, game designers must make choices that resonate with their audiences in a process not unlike the writing of history: ‘Development teams will operate in ways like historians in that they take “story elements” and play with those elements to create a narrative based on the history in question.’6 It would be possible to hire historical consultants (as many game developers do), extensively consult primary and secondary sources and still create a product that included few or no women.7 In any case, as Elliott and Kapell write, designing a game to be as objectively accurate as possible is difficult and not necessarily desirable and would not make games inherently more fun or even 117

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educational.8 One of the exciting things about playing games based on the ancient world is the opportunity to become an architect of history instead of a passive recipient. Assassin’s Creed lead designer Alex Hutchinson shared in an interview that for game design, ‘history is our playground’.9 When that includes few or no female characters, however, a significant dimension is lost.

Connecting players and reception SMITE, unlike the games described above, has no narrative constraints in its reception of women, allowing for considerable interpretation on the axes of development and gameplay. In SMITE, a character’s model and abilities are drawn from what game designers choose as the central point in her mythological background, constituting a conscious act of reception not based on accuracy so much as the desire for a particular impact – the feeling of authenticity mentioned above. To drive interest in the game and excitement for new characters, gamemakers connect players to their decisions and make the act of reception transparent. SMITE regularly releases ‘God Reveal’ videos beginning with a lore section introducing viewers to the mythological background behind the design. In order to create cohesive characters, their abilities are explained via the central elements taken from the story presented in the lore. All gods also have a title that draws from this theme (e.g., ‘Discordia, Goddess of Strife’ or ‘Nike, Goddess of Victory’). These videos rack up views; the release video for Terra, for example, has almost 700,000 on YouTube, showing considerable audience engagement. This alone sets SMITE apart in terms of representation; Cole discusses in Chapter 13 how women are sometimes omitted from even promotional materials. Although designers do not often cite a particular author’s version of a myth, videos seem to draw often on Ovid’s Metamorphoses. Other sources from Homer to Plutarch are evident as well, as detailed below. In many cases, multiple sources are combined to create a character that has a cohesive kit designed around one or two themes. This flattens the complexity of these goddesses and the relationships of the sources describing them to a certain extent. However, the simplification also makes their stories more accessible to users and, by focusing on famous or at least consistent thematic elements, helps players engage with a game environment containing at least some familiar characters. HiRez Studios presents opportunities to connect with the reception process in addition to lore videos. Livestreamed development update shows on Twitch feature members of the R&D team, who explain the game design process behind upcoming gods, including how their lore inspired their kit. These include Q&A with Twitch viewers, giving players direct access to the creative process of reception. New playable characters are added regularly over time, and SMITE players frequently suggest new deities. A search on the Reddit community devoted to the game reveals several posts with detailed requests, including a post about adding the Dacian pantheon featuring extensive quotes from Herodotus. This feedback loop is effective; for example, the Norse god Heimdallr was requested often before his addition. This creates a relationship between audience, 118

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game design and source material that makes SMITE’s creative interaction with ancient Graeco-Roman source material more nuanced than gameplay might initially suggest. As mentioned above, the ability to show and discuss the process of design also makes SMITE useful in classrooms focusing on the reception of ancient myth. I will discuss some of the pedagogical benefits of games before discussing SMITE specifically.

Teaching ancient women through SMITE In a definition modified with reference to Gee (2007), Plass, Homer and Kinzer (2015) and Shute and Ke (2012), game-based learning involves adapting or integrating games or game elements to instructional content with clear learning objectives for the purposes of active learning, increased student motivation, or pedagogical innovation. Video games represent a valuable avenue not only for active learning but also as a way to help students relate to course content, which is often delivered in a lecture/discussion/exam format that leaves relatively little room for creative engagement.10 Using games as teaching tools (even if there is insufficient time for students to engage in gameplay) can facilitate the creation of new learning activities and assessments, both summative and formative. Instructors may worry that teaching in this way will lead to a greater focus on fun than learning.11 Choicemaking in gameplay of games drawing on history and myth, however, or analysis of game design choices, can function as a critical tool for learning about the past.12 Instructors of classical studies have begun to embrace this in a variety of subfields, perhaps most commonly in archaeology and civilization courses.13 Immersing students in a gamified version of an ancient environment helps build a connection with material that can otherwise seem remote and invite students into formal study of a discipline which they may previously have encountered only casually via things like video games.14 Rassalle writes that debating the interpretive choices made in design and gameplay can foster conversations about aspects of the ancient world that are often difficult to teach via textual sources alone; educators can utilize the student’s ability to manipulate game elements to ‘stress the complexities of certain events of the past by giving an open-ended and unpredictable simulation’.15 Games can provide immersive access to environments in the ancient world that are not easy to access via texts or images alone. Games also make an accessible medium for students to begin considering reception studies. Simply opening a learning activity by asking why there are so many board and video games drawing on ancient Greece and Rome, and further examining what common genres and themes exist among them, facilitates a conversation about the role of the ancient world in popular culture and the continuing importance of its study. Students can then begin to describe their own ‘previously tacit cultural knowledge’ about the past and understand their own progress and new learning about the ancient world more effectively, whether casually in class discussions or formally in written assessments.16 This teaching method helps introduce discussion about gender roles in class artifacts (whether literature or games). Teaching about women in classics is often treated as a ‘tourist topic’ that can ‘reinforce unquestioned binaries of power whereby (citizen) men 119

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act in ancient history while women (and others) are objects acted upon.’18 SMITE, whose characters are not restrained by even a loose narrative, offers a flexible tool for teaching about the characterization of women in ancient sources and in modern receptions. In SMITE, female and male characters have equal representation and no variance in power level or agency. A conversation about the possible differences this might make in the perception of gender roles for players fosters reflection about the roles women play both in ancient sources and in modern representations. The relative transparency of the design of the goddesses also makes the conversation about reception accessible to students and models for them one approach to a creative textual interpretation. At the same time, the narrow focus of design around a particular theme allows a thorough discussion of details and different possible approaches. A popular learning activity in my myth class includes showing a 5-minute ‘Lore’ video from SMITE, accompanied by an exercise in which students are asked to reimagine the character focused on a different story element or characteristic chosen from class readings, and always yields creative results. Discussion questions can include: Why did the designers choose that particular element of a character to focus on, and not another? What was their perception of that god before coming to class, and how did it change after both reading ancient texts and analysing modern receptions? Did they think the author of a text read in class would approve of the design, and why/why not? This learning activity is not limited to gods and goddesses; encouraging students to imagine historical figures as video game characters in the MOBA model is also effective. I also ask students to design characters from the perspectives of their peers (for example, how would Hera design Zeus?). Although an exercise like this can certainly be filled with some amount of levity, it can also prompt meaningful conversations about how women are portrayed in both ancient and modern media. It also creates enduring learning and a sense of disciplinary belonging as students become engaged and are encouraged not only to recall facts but to analyse mythological stories and translate their analysis from one format to another. This process offers students agency that ‘allows not only the interpretation of representation but also the manipulation of it. This access to doing . . . allows digital games to work not only as representations of the past but also as systems for historying, granting access to historical practices.’18 In general, instructors may find it useful to use model like backwards course design to pinpoint how and why the incorporation of games as teaching tools will further student learning. In the examples above, I wanted students both to demonstrate recall mastery over the texts we had read as well as creatively deploy their recalled knowledge in new contexts that showed an understanding of important themes and takeaways. Some goddesses in SMITE make particularly interesting topics for classroom discussion, whether because of their physical model, their abilities or the complexity of the potential sources. Women are presented in a variety of ways in SMITE: assertive, aggressive, magical, monstrous and more. Some of them have characteristics more typical of male video game characters,19 and others not; overall the female characters in these groups leave no doubt in players’ and students’ minds of the diverse roles of women in ancient mythology. 120

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The goddesses The fifteen women that make up half of the Graeco-Roman pantheon group in SMITE include Aphrodite, Arachne, Artemis, Athena, Hera, Medusa, Nemesis, Nike, Persephone, Scylla, Charybdis, Bellona, Discordia, Nox and Terra. Female characters in SMITE are as likely to be hand-to-hand bruisers as they are to provide ranged magical support, providing a range of options for players who prefer to be represented by a woman ingame, unlike in some other MOBAs, which tend to pigeonhole female characters into supporting roles.20 A player whose primary introduction to Graeco-Roman mythology came from SMITE would find equal numbers of gods and goddesses with roles not immediately informed by modern gender stereotypes. Several of the goddesses in SMITE are portrayed explicitly as frontline warriors who wear some form of battle armour and get into close quarters in team fights. Nike, Bellona, Athena, Terra and Nemesis all fall into this category, although each feels unique in her approach to the battlefield. I will focus on two goddesses of war with design choices other than what one might expect. Athena, a well-known goddess, was one of the original characters in SMITE. She is portrayed in opposition to her brother Ares, another god of war among the original cast of playable gods. Both of their ‘Lore’ sections are characterized by their allegiances in the Trojan War, making her easy to include in a number of ancient civilization or myth courses. Her lore is drawn at least partially from the Iliad; SMITE casts Athena as the protagonist, a wise and just goddess who supports the Greeks simply to protect them from other divine interference: At the Siege of Troy, Ares disobeyed Zeus and joined with the battle, fighting for the mortal Trojans. Athena rose to stop him, indirectly championing the Greeks, but directly keeping the order of divine law. Their fierce battle clashed in unspeakable proportions, ending only when Ares limped from the battlefield, cowed by his sister and rival. With Ares diminished, the tide of the war shifted, and the heroes of the Greek Army toppled Troy.21 Her official lore also draws on her role as patron goddess of the city of Athens and champion of scholarly pursuits, implying a blend of other sources besides the Iliad in her background (asking students to identify which sources might have been used in her character creation would make a fun learning activity or assignment). Athena’s abilities include summoning a ghostly group of hoplites to fight and a taunt that draws enemies’ aggression away from allies. Her ultimate ‘Defender of Olympus’ allows her to teleport instantly to any allied character on the map, providing substantial protections and allowing her to turn the tide of any battle. The design focuses on her characterization in myths as a protector of heroes and omits other aspects, particularly how her anger after the judgement of Paris led to some bloodthirsty actions in the Iliad (a lack of pity for Ajax during his madness, her deception of Hector, or her refusal to shelter Trojan women from Diomedes, for example). This choice by the game design team was deliberate and 121

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allowed for the creation of contrast between her and the in-game evil Ares, giving her a distinct identity. In contrast to Athena, the less well-known goddess Bellona was brought in by popular player demand. In the development update show (with almost 40,000 views) discussing Bellona’s release as a character, game designers explain that she was chosen because of requests from players for another female warrior. Because they had added Athena early in the game, they decided it was time for a goddess of war from Rome.22 Her lore video shares a mix of history and mythology, possibly because most audience members would have relatively little familiarity with Bellona, and, indeed, Bellona is interesting to pair with Athena in the classroom because of her relative paucity of primary sources. Based around Plutarch’s Life of Sulla, Bellona’s powers are explained through her relationship to Lucius Cornelius Sulla and his rise to dictator in Rome: When Rome was young, Bellona ran with her armies, conquered her enemies, made her strong. As Rome aged and began to crumble, she fought only with her strongest and most cunning of worshippers, Lucius Cornelius Sulla. Sulla rose through the ranks by accomplishing impossible deeds of heroism and ruthless prowess . . . everywhere he went, Bellona rode with him. Together they quelled the Germanic hordes, they broke the Social War, they sacked Athens. Sulla was utterly undefeatable, and it was the Goddess of War that made him so. But the Roman Senate moved to displace Sulla and end his rise to glory. ‘March on Rome,’ Bellona quietly urged, ‘and you shall rise as no other.’ Emboldened, Sulla commanded his legions and took the city streets, Bellona at the fore. The Senate buckled. They cast the vote. Sulla became the first life-long dictator of Rome.23 Comparing her release video and abilities with Athena’s also invites conversations about literary genres and how often women are cast in supporting roles in mythology. Bellona’s character, as described in Vergil (Aeneid 8.703), carries a sword, shield and whip, and wears a red cloak emblazoned with a golden eagle. The backstory drawn from Plutarch, with all its narrative details, has little impact on her in-game mechanics. Instead, her abilities and appearance simply emphasize that she is Roman and a goddess of war. Her ultimate ability is called Eagle’s Rally – on cast, the character yells either ‘Roma invicta!’ or ‘Rally here!’ SMITE has created character models for some goddesses that showcase transgression of traditional female forms. Arachne, Medusa, and Scylla are all human/animal hybrids, with their powerful abilities coming largely as a result of this hybridity. This is made explicit in lore videos, in which the tales of Arachne and Medusa’s transformations and Scylla’s animal nature are explicitly described as the source of their power. Moreover, instead of being cast simply as victims, each character takes charge of her posttransformation experience with her choice to enter the battleground of the gods. The transformations of Medusa and Arachne require the female character to suffer before gaining the ability to fight, a contrast to male characters, a common theme in other games: ‘Where the revenge in the narratives of male characters are used as 122

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justification for the use of their inherent martial abilities, in contrast, women must undergo trauma merely to become strong in the first place.’24 This was not a necessary choice for Medusa, given that her Homeric story shows only a dangerous monster, providing none of Ovid’s tragic backstory.25 These characters, their designs and their Lore releases facilitate discussions of new, feminist retellings of classical myths and their potential pitfalls, especially in efforts to remediate stories of sexual violence: ‘Restoring agency to these women doesn’t happen by denying them their trauma, or by removing the label of victim. They enjoy true agency when their authors allow them to rise above their victimhood and become survivors, or at the very least become women who deal with the world on their own terms.’26 Medusa Medusa’s Lore emphasizes the power granted to her by her transformed form as a gorgon: ‘There is only one whose hair is made of slithering serpents, only one with skin of scales, only one whose very gaze can turn man, beast, or god to stone: Medusa.’ The narrator then turns to Ovid’s tale, in which Medusa is raped by Poseidon and punished by Athena (see Ovid Met. 4.753–803). It also makes no mention of Medusa’s eventual death at the hands of Perseus, focusing instead on how her anger and desire for revenge make her a formidable opponent. Some of this is obviously for the purpose of game functionality; it would be difficult to include a dead goddess in the game. Still, the traditional ending of Medusa’s story changed in favour of a promise of vengeance against those who wronged her makes her more agential than in Ovid’s Perseus-centric version. The choice to include her rape – and make it part of the experience of a playable character – is a more inclusive approach than that described in Chapter 10 by Chidwick. In Ryse: Son of Rome, the rape of Boudica’s daughters is replaced by the murder of her father; further, she, like many women in games, is only presented as a non-playable character with whom players ‘do not have to identify.’27 Her model is an anthropomorphic green snake with more green snakes for hair. In an update show, designers discussed the difficulty of developing such a popular mythological figure into a SMITE. They decided to focus on her most well-known feature (unlike a character like Bellona): ‘She’s one of the few characters that everyone knows; she’s very popular in mythology and shows up a lot of movies and media. We were excited to create this character and bring her into SMITE. Making her a hunter was a little bit different . . . Really the strongest thing about her lore is that she turns people to stone.’28 Arachne Arachne is one of SMITE’s original characters and has undergone many changes to physical model and abilities. However, a focus on her power to weave in her transformed arachnid body has remained consistent. Like Medusa, Arachne’s mythological background is taken fairly closely from Ovid (Met. 6.1–145). SMITE tells the beginning of her story in this way: 123

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Once, a beautiful and talented weaver of cloth and fabric, a single prideful mistake made a monster of Arachne for all time. With loom and thread, there were none more skilled than the mortal Arachne. Viewers traveled leagues just to see her art. So wondrous and majestic were her tapestries, it was said the spinner must have been instructed by the patron Goddess of Weavers herself, Athena. To this comparison, Arachne proudly scoffed, claiming not even the Gods rivaled her talent at weaving. When Athena heard this, disguised as a crone, she visited Arachne and encouraged her to show proper respect to the Gods. Arachne dismissed the old woman and issued a challenge that no God, not even Athena, could weave better than she. Furious, Athena revealed herself and accepted the challenge.29 As with Medusa, the ending of the story is altered. In Ovid’s version, Arachne attempts to commit suicide at the end of the contest, only living on as a spider thanks to Athena’s pity. In this version, however, Athena simply turns her into a spider without the intervening violence as a punishment for her pride, leading Arachne to join the battleground in a continuing attempt to best Athena. Her in-game model is a spider with a woman’s face and eight legs; her abilities focus on weaving. Each SMITE character has a series of unique voice lines that occur whenever they cast abilities or use universal in-game emotes like greetings or apologies. One of the emotes is a taunt line that deploys sarcastic lines meant for enemy players. In Arachne’s usual taunt line, she says, ‘Oh what a tangled web we weave, when we want to suck the juicy bits out of our enemies.’ When she is taunting Athena, however, the line is filled with more direct and threatening intent: ‘I’ll weave a nice little grave for you!’ she says. In this aspect, her feud with Athena is preserved in-game. Other characters with interlocking mythologies often have similar easter eggs; asking students to imagine other routes for these relationships in-game usually starts productive discussions. Scylla Of the three characters into this category, Scylla is the most difficult to teach, as not all stories even necessarily assign a gender to them.30 Furthermore, whether the beast (therion) described in Homer is actually synonymous with the character depicted in later art showing a half-woman, half-dog monster is unclear. In SMITE, Scylla is as a blend of many story elements, although she appears at first glance as a female child. Scylla’s lore video reflects the ambiguous nature of her origins and unambiguously portrays her as a dangerous monster: Ancient poems warn of a narrow channel of water so treacherous that death touches all who approach. Sailors must choose to risk their ship, traveling close to the monstrous whirlpool Charybdis, or instead hug the rocky shoals where dwells a creature some say is made from the nightmares of all men. Scylla, they call her, Horror of the Sea. No ship that dares sail in her waters goes unscathed. Those that 124

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cling to survival whisper panicked tales of enormous black tentacles tipped with slavering hound heads ravaging whole ships to splinters with pitiless precision. Though it’s her laughter, they say, that’s most horrible; child-like, delighting in blood-soaked murder as men are dragged into the dark abyss. Poets have tried to romanticize this beast, to provide some humanity to her monstrosity. They write she was once a beautiful Naiad, wronged by a jealous priestess and transformed. Yet the old poems say she was born this way, beget by gods full of jealousy and loathing; dropped into the sea to terrorize mankind.31 Ovid’s story (presumably the poet referred to above) is of the Naiad who is transformed by a jealous Circe into a monster (Met. 14.1–74). The ‘old poems’ referred to in the reveal probably refer to the mention of Scylla in Homeric poetry. Scylla’s brief appearance in the Odyssey as a six-headed monster is echoed in the character model. Finally, her appearance as a young girl is hinted at by Circe’s description in the Odyssey.32 Through her abilities, she reveals that her lower half is composed of four monstrous dogs that perform a variety of attacks. When she casts her ultimate ability, called ‘I’m a Monster!’ her appearance transforms further; she becomes enormous, the dogs emerge and she makes one powerful attack. If the attack succeeds in killing an enemy player, she is able to make another attack, chaining up to five times, a possible mechanical reference to the slaughter of sailors on Odysseus’ ship. Her ‘taunt’ voice lines in game also reference this event as well: ‘I don’t sink ships on purpose! I’m just trying to eat the crew . . .’ and ‘Do you know the phrase “Between a rock and a hard place”? That was me!’ The creative liberties taken as a result of negotiation between different sources allowed game designers to magnify the impact of the story as an in-game experience. Interestingly, the SMITE Scylla also has hints of the sirens, another obstacle faced by Odysseus on his journey. In not being anchored to the story of the Odyssey or a particular history for Scylla, elements of multiple episodes that might be broadly recognizable to players (in this case, the temptation of the unwary to disaster during Odysseus’ journey home) can be rolled into a single design. All these factors make her one of the most interesting choices for an assessment asking students to redesign a character based on their own interpretation of stories, or to write an analysis of the existing one. What about women in the game who are not war goddesses or otherwise different from a ‘typical’ female character? Other goddesses, including Hera, Nox, Discordia and Persephone, appear as commanding and powerful figures through their designs in different ways. The focus of Hera’s design is in her role as ‘Queen of the Gods’. For example, she summons and controls the male Argus to provide most of her in-game damage. Some of her other myths are hinted at indirectly, as well. She can cast a polymorph that turns enemies into a random animal, presumably a reference to the Io myth, also referenced in her lore video: ‘She can reshape nature, including her foes, and she will hold nothing back as she steps forth upon the Battleground of the Gods. For the Queen of the Gods has come at last, and she has come to rule.’ Zeus’ many marital indecencies are not mentioned in either character’s lore or in-game kit other than one of 125

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Hera’s voice lines. If she taunts a player piloting Zeus in game, Hera will say, ‘Zeus and I lived happily for a millennia. Then we met.’ Other goddesses have similar mixes between functional in-game mechanics, lore, and mythological details. Discordia’s chaotic reputation serves as the centre point of her design. She causes gods to fight each other and in her ultimate ability shoots a golden apple that causes turmoil. Another ability grants extra damage to the allied god with the most damage, representing her as a cause of competition among friends. Persephone’s kit focuses on her relationship with flora; she grows a deadly garden to entrap enemy characters. As in some other popular, recent receptions like the webcomic Lore Olympus, the violence of her relationship with death and Hades is elided; instead of being tricked by the god of the underworld, her lore video describes her choice as purposeful.33 As mentioned above, it is possible to read this as an erasure of rape and sexual violence and an avoidance of an uncomfortable topic. Whether this provides Persephone with more agency in her own mythology or oversimplifies her character makes another interesting point for discussing different popular receptions of a disturbing myth, especially in conjunction with other games featuring Persephone, like Hades.

Conclusion Women (both mortal and goddess) in Greek and Roman mythology fill a diverse set of roles that defy categories and stereotypes and often showcase women as dangerous, powerful, or transgressive of traditional female roles in some way. Although the rich array of stories from ancient sources associated with the goddesses in SMITE are truncated by their use in linear character design rather than narrative gameplay, the range of abilities and models used in game still provide a compelling variety to players concerning the role of women in the past. The goddesses in the game are mages, warriors, old, young, beautiful, monstrous, inhuman and invariably powerful. They also make up half of playable characters, meaning that even players who choose their characters randomly are likely to encounter a female character. Moreover, players who want to engage with the process of character design (and thus reception) can either watch the polished ‘Lore’ content the game presents or engage in casual Q&As with developers, learning both about sources for the game as well as how its makers have chosen to use those sources. All these characteristics make the game an effective tool for teaching about the reception of classical women in a range of classes on the ancient world.

Notes 1. See: https://steamcharts.com/app/386360 for SMITE play (accessed 9 May 2021) data and https://www.titanforgegames.com/ (accessed 9 May 2021) for total unique players. 2. See: https://www.smitegame.com/gods/ (accessed 9 May 2021). 3. Rollinger (2020a: 23).

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Graeco-Roman Goddesses 4. Rollinger (2020b: 21). 5. Ivory (2006) and Summers and Miller (2014). 6. Clare (2021: 18). 7. Beavers (2020b). 8. Elliott and Kapell (2013: 6–7). 9. Hansen (2012). 10. MacLeod (2021). 11. Mol, Ariese-Vandemeulebroucke, Boom, Politopoulos and Vandemeulebroucke (2016). 12. Metzger and Paxton (2016). 13. Rassalle (2021) and Reinhard (2018). 14. Boom, Ariese, van den Hout, Mol and Politopoulos (2020). 15. Rassalle (2021). 16. Sellers (2006: 21). 17. Romney (2021). 18. Chapman (2016: 51). 19. See Dill and Thill (2007) for characteristics typical of male protagonists in video games. 20. Bell (2017). 21. See: https://smite.gamepedia.com/Athena. 22. SMITE Dev Talk: Bellona. 23. See https://smite.gamepedia.com/Bellona. 24. Beavers (2020b: 99). 25. Lowe (2011). 26. Hinds (2019). 27. Chidwick in this volume (2022: 147–61). 28. SMITE Dev Talk: Medusa. 29. See: https://smite.gamepedia.com/Arachne (accessed 9 May 2021). 30. See Hopman (2016: 109–11) for an argument for Scylla’s female nature even in Homer. 31. See: https://smite.gamepedia.com/Scylla (accessed 9 May 2021). 32. Hopman (2016: 86); see also Odyssey 12.54 ff. 33. See: https://smite.gamepedia.com/Persephone (accessed 9 May 2021).

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CHAPTER 9 OPENING PANDORA’S BOX: APHRODITE AS THE REPRESENTATION OF WOMEN’S SEXUALITY IN GOD OF WAR III 1 Olivia Ciaccia

Introduction Aphrodite is an Olympian goddess traditionally associated with the realm of sexuality, love, and beauty in contemporary receptions.2 The memory of Aphrodite has endured into twentieth- and twenty-first-century Western popular culture as an active symbol, prolifically represented in art, cinema, literature, beauty marketing, and featuring in a multitude of video games as of June 2020.3 In antiquity, Aphrodite was a deity of considerable, multifaceted influence; today, however, her character is often confined to a sexualized ‘goddess of love’ and modern assumptions of what this identity entails. This one-dimensional reduction is demonstrable through her cameo in the popular video game God of War III (GoW1–3),4 where she appears as a caricature of women’s sexuality. Using GoW3 as a case study, this chapter explores how such a reduction is not simply a harmless mythopoetic device used for player entertainment. Historically, as an icon of women’s sexuality and beauty ideals, Aphrodite’s image has been projected onto real women; therefore, continued monolithic representations of her maintain a misogynistic status quo, sanctioning the sexual objectification and consumption of women’s bodies through popular media.

‘Aphrodite’s Chamber’ GoW3 is the highly acclaimed fifth instalment in the God of War franchise, published by Sony Computer Entertainment in 2010 and remastered in 2015.5 The plot centres on protagonist and anti-hero, Kratos, a fallen war god-titan, intent upon vengeance following a failed assault on the Olympians.6 The game features characters from ancient Greek mythology, including a notable scene starring Aphrodite. Earlier in the franchise, in GoW1, Aphrodite appeared as an enlarged golden apparition, revealing only her head adorned with jewels; here, the goddess speaks to Kratos, offering her assistance to defeat Ares on the condition that Kratos slays the Gorgon.7 In this brief franchise debut, Aphrodite wields a position of power over Kratos, requiring him to earn her help. This dignified vision of divinity starkly contrasts with her depiction in GoW3. Prior to the franchise’s 2018 development, women feature in GoW as objects for Kratos’ sexual use or 128

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violent destruction, with GoW3 marking the final game in the franchise to use this approach. One particularly brutal scene shows Kratos ignoring the cries of a handcuffed woman held captive by Poseidon; rather than help her, Kratos uses her body to prop up a door lever, crushing and killing her in the process.8 To him, women are a disposable means to an end. The scene of interest to this chapter is entitled ‘Aphrodite’s Chamber’ and is worth describing in detail, for each moment transfers significant messages to the player regarding not only the goddess, but women’s homogenized sexuality itself. Kratos violates Aphrodite’s private quarters, forcing entry on a door decorated with her image. Entering the chamber triggers the audio to shift to an erotic ambience of women moaning and giggling, provoking voyeuristic feelings in the player intruding on the scene. Approaching an over-sized bed in the centre of the room activates a cut scene where the player is introduced to Aphrodite whilst she is sensually entwined between two other women, all in a state of undress. Upon seeing Kratos, Aphrodite halts her intimate encounter, waving her companions away with a dismissive, ‘Be gone!’ She is then immediately submissive towards Kratos, crawling across the bed towards him, kneeling, and reclining on her back Figure 9.1). The first sentence she utters is a sexual proposition. Whenever the goddess speaks, it is accompanied by animations which emphasize her body at all times by the deliberate use of camera angles;9 thus, Aphrodite’s words are of little importance in the scene, with her body and what it offers taking primacy. Kratos initially rejects Aphrodite, owing to his more important business (that being, fixing a bridge), saying, ‘I have no time for games, Aphrodite.’ In fact, these six words are the only ones he speaks throughout the entire scene. Aphrodite responds by mocking his ‘masculine’ concerns, scoffing, ‘You men and your toys!’ Obviously, engineering and the ongoing war are issues beyond the interest for a goddess confined to the bed chamber. Next, players are offered the choice to select ‘yes’ or ‘no’ in response to the goddess’ proposition. Selecting ‘yes’ activates a minigame, whereupon the player, as Kratos, needs to repeatedly hit the ‘O’ button to win. Interestingly, this is also the mechanic used to

Figure 9.1 Screenshot from God of War III. Image courtesy of Olivia Ciaccia. 129

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violently conclude fight scenes elsewhere in the game and franchise, which, as suggested by Ross Clare, may not be coincidental.10 Aphrodite is left lying on her back as the camera pans away, instead turning to her companions who observe the scene hidden from the view of the player. Although this masks the activity underhand, so to speak, its content is beyond doubt. And if there were any doubts, Aphrodite’s companions provide a commentary on its sexual nature and inappropriateness for young viewers,11 generating a sense of taboo and intrigue. The audio responds to the player’s progression through the minigame, expressed through Aphrodite’s audible approval. Her companions appear visibly aroused, caressing one another in response to the players actions in the minigame. Completion takes less than a minute before the camera returns to Aphrodite, legs akimbo on the bed, praising Kratos as blessed by the gods. It is possible for players to repeat the minigame unlimited times, if they desire, although the game itself is unchallenging and never changes. The scene ends with Aphrodite directing Kratos to her husband, Hephaestus, for more information about his quest, before turning her back to him and leaning on her arm in a posture that calls her presumed satisfaction into question. The purpose of the scene in Aphrodite’s Chamber functions as a method of plot progression and as a convenient break from the hack-and-slash gameplay. It could come across as comical, with Aphrodite gyrating on the bed, her companions breaking the fourth wall acknowledging the scene’s mature content, or the hyperbolic praise Aphrodite affords to Kratos’ irresistible masculine allure. However, despite the almost irrelevance of the scene to the rest of the plot, this three-minute interaction between Kratos and Aphrodite is filled with not-so-subtle messages for its audience, that may be unsettling for informed viewers attentive to a wider history of Aphrodite’s reductive reception, as well as a tradition of misogynistic representations of women in media.

Ancient antecedents and modern reinterpretation The concept of Aphrodite as a romanticized ‘goddess of love’ solely confined to matters of match-making and the bedroom is a stereotype regurgitated across twentieth- and twenty-first-century Western popular culture. Aphrodite conjures distinctively erotic connotations, perhaps rightly so, for ‘the works of Aphrodite’ pertained specifically to the realm of sexuality, rather than modern notions of romantic love.12 Choosing to represent her distinctive sexual nature is therefore not inaccurate, though its execution leaves much to be desired and is not without consequence. A full examination of Aphrodite’s ancient character would exceed the scope of this chapter and detract from addressing the matter of contemporary issues that arise in modern receptions; however, existing scholarship illustrates her complexity and ancient affiliations with politics, commerce, maritime occupations and, in some cases, war.13 The image of Aphrodite that survives in popular culture today is significantly reduced, leaning heavily on her misleading and simplified antiquarian categorization as ‘goddess of love’;14 however, the interpretation of Aphrodite in GoW3 is not bereft of ancient reference, as several features in ‘Aphrodite’s Chamber’ apparently take their inspiration from ancient literature. 130

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‘War is not for you (Aphrodite)’ Though ancient evidence clearly demonstrates how Aphrodite was considered a complex character, some sources leave a different impression. In Book V of Homer’s Iliad, Aphrodite’s ‘soft hand’ is wounded by Diomedes during one of the many battles of the Trojan war.15 Aphrodite retreats to Olympus for recovery, only to be chastised by Zeus who advises her against further military interference: οὔ τοι, τέκνον ἐμόν, δέδοται πολεμήια ἔργα, ἀλλὰ σύ γ᾿ ἱμερόεντα μετέρχεο ἔργα γάμοιο, ταῦτα δ᾿ Ἄρηι θοῷ καὶ Ἀθήνῃ πάντα μελήσει. War is not for you, my child, tend to the loving deeds of wedlock, and leave the fighting to Ares the swift and to Athene.16 Zeus’ condescension resituates Aphrodite within the realm of domestic relationships and romance, or otherwise the traditional concerns of Greek women, rather than more politically urgent matters taken up by Ares and the ‘masculine’ goddess Athena.17 GoW3 echoes this when Aphrodite mocks Kratos’ interest in repairing the bridge, expressing her disinterest in the world of men and effectively legitimising her bed chamber confinement. Kratos’ interaction with her is merely a transference of goods: sex for information. Her character’s worth rests solely upon her physical attributes, at the absence of any intellectual capacity, fulfilling an archetype and role frequently assigned to women in video games.18 Aphrodite’s characterization in GoW3 – her aesthetic design, dialogue and mannerisms – coalesce as hyperbolic sexuality, literally stripping her of the complexities of her ancient namesake. Despite GoW3 playing on the Homeric idea that Aphrodite should effectively stay in her place, i.e. the bedroom, other ancient sources indicate that she was in fact quite interested in warfare, not only by associating with her war-god lover, Ares, but as evidenced through prayers beseeching her to protect cities against invasion, or depictions of Aphrodite steering chariots with an appearance much like the warrior Athena.19 As the mother of Deimos and Phobos (Fear and Panic), Aphrodite was certainly not simply confined to romantic love.20 Alas, focusing on Aphrodite as the embodiment of a limited archetype serves GoW3’s mythopoetic purpose as a storytelling device.

The ‘works of Aphrodite’ The choice to emphasize Aphrodite as a goddess whose central interest is in sex, as opposed to love, is closer to the actuality of her historical purview.21 The exaggeration of this role is explained by the game’s overarching narrative which involves the opening of Pandora’s Box, releasing corruption into the world. As a result, Aphrodite becomes hypersexualized, although according to the game’s canon, this only emphasizes her already established preoccupation with carnal desire.22 Indeed, evidence of her pre-existing lust is 131

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referenced by her mythical track record of infidelity, alluded to by GoW3. When players meet Aphrodite, they are voyeurs to an extramarital mènage à trois between Aphrodite and her women lovers, which perhaps takes inspiration from a scene from the Odyssey, whereupon Helios spies Aphrodite entwined with Ares behind her husband Hephaestus’ back.23 In the GoW3 scene, Aphrodite maintains her interest in the warrior archetype, which is now embodied by Kratos. GoW3 presents Aphrodite’s sexuality as mere carnal hedonism; however, ancient sources assert that the works of Aphrodite and desire were an integral part of the natural world: ἐρᾷ μὲν ὄμβρου γαῖ᾿, ὅταν ξηρὸν πέδον ἄκαρπον αὐχμῷ νοτίδος ἐνδεῶς ἔχῃ· ἐρᾷ δ᾿ ὁ σεμνὸς οὐρανὸς πληρούμενος ὄμβρου πεσεῖν εἰς γαῖαν Ἀφροδίτης ὕπο. ὅταν δὲ συμμιχθῆτον ἐς ταὐτὸν δύο, φύουσιν ἡμῖν πάντα καὶ τρέφουσ᾿ ἅμα, δι᾿ ὧν βρότειον ζῇ τε καὶ θάλλει γένος. through Aphrodite’s influence the earth yearns for rain when her parched surface, infertile through drought, stands in need of moisture, and in turn the majestic sky, filled with rain, yearns to fall upon the earth; and when these two come together and commingle, they generate and nurture all the things for us through which the human race lives and thrives.24 Though the epitome of sexual desire, it is not unheard of for Aphrodite’s influence to be rejected or ineffective, albeit this is rare. The Virgin goddesses, Athena, Artemis and Hestia seem immune, as does the titular protagonist in Euripides’ famous play, Hippolytus, who declines the gifts of Aphrodite in favour of abstinence, to his fatal detriment.25 Nevertheless, Kratos appears to frequently indulge in the works of Aphrodite and though he initially asserts that he has little time for her ‘games’, if the player chooses, he will succumb. This is not, however, presented in a way that reflects Aphrodite’s power, as shall be examined below. Exposing Aphrodite’s infidelity is one way the Homeric tradition casts shame on Aphrodite’s sexual liberty. Another way is recorded in the Homeric Hymn to Aphrodite V, where Zeus decides to punish her for meddling with the love lives of the gods. In this, he returns the favour and causes her to fall in lust with the mortal, Anchises. Zeus’ manipulation lowers Aphrodite’s standards and humiliates her: αὐτὰρ ἐμοὶ μέγ᾿ ὄνειδος ἐν ἀθανάτοισι θεοῖσιν ἔσσεται ἤματα πάντα διαμπερὲς εἵνεκα σεῖο, While I suffer great reproach among the gods evermore, on your account [referring to Anchises].26 Similarly, in GoW3, Aphrodite expresses her willingness to sleep with Kratos, even though he has lost his status as a fallen god and is hierarchically beneath her. Both in the Odyssey and the Homeric Hymn to Aphrodite V, Aphrodite’s sexuality is the object of a joke amongst the immortals, which is a motif mirrored by her hyperbolic characterization 132

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in GoW3. Her exposed sexuality is something to be laughed at, as a comedic break from more serious episodes, both in the ancient myths and in the modern video game.

Sexual accessibility Whilst early forms of proto-Aphrodite from Cyprus suggest that her amorous influence was deeply connected to resulting fecundity and fertility, by the time she was adopted by the Greeks, Aphrodite was considerably more enthusiastic about sex than she was about its potential after-effects.27 In this way, the Greeks themselves produced a hypersexualized image.28 The liaison with Anchises presents Aphrodite as potentially accessible to mortal men, which is a concept that also appears outside of mythology. One particularly infamous hetaira (courtesan) from the fourth century bce , Phryne, was considered so beautiful that Praxiteles modelled his sculpture of Aphrodite in her image.29 Several epigrams record that even Aphrodite was shocked by the statue’s resemblance to her, asking, ‘Where did Praxiteles see me naked?’30 This shock, combined with another epigram referring to the statue suggests that Aphrodite’s full beauty was elusive and inaccessible: Τὴν Παφίην γυμνὴν οὐδεὶς ἴδεν· εἰ δέ τις εἶδεν, οὗτος ὁ τὴν γυμνὴν στησάμενος Παφίην. No one saw the Paphian nude, But if anyone did, it was the man who here set up the nude Paphian.31 Nevertheless, as Praxiteles captured Aphrodite’s beauty so accurately and that Phryne looked so alike her, there is a clear physical connection between the two. As Aphrodite’s mortal embodiment, Phryne in some way made both Aphrodite’s beauty and her sexuality accessible to mortal men. Indeed, Pliny the Elder reports that this statue was so provocative that it inspired one man with such desire, that the evidence of his lust was left as a stain upon her marble thigh.32 The theme of mortal men’s access to Aphrodite has continued into modern cinema, with statues of Venus animating upon being kissed, or her coming to Earth in search of a mortal lover.33 GoW3 continues this idea, making Aphrodite sexually available both to Kratos and the player, via the minigame. Aphrodite’s design depicts her in much the same way as it does her lovers, Poseidon’s captive, and indeed the anonymous women from the franchise’s previous sex minigames. These other minigames follow a similar format whereby Kratos sexually engages offcamera with scantily-clad unnamed women requiring players to press buttons in imitation of Kratos’ rhythm.34 As such, Aphrodite joins the ranks of women that the franchise identifies as disposable, inconsequential, and objects of entertainment. This stands in contrast to the enlarged depictions of Hephaestus, Gaia, or the resplendent image of Athena. In GoW3, Aphrodite undergoes reverse-apotheosis, disempowering her to such an extent that not only is her sphere of influence reduced to that of carnal 133

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activity, but she is also stripped of her divinity and transformed into a sexual object. As with any mythopoetic process, GoW3 makes selective use of ancient sources to serve the developers’ creative intentions, electing to emphasize Aphrodite’s sexuality in order to illustrate the corruption released from Pandora’s Box; however, women in video games are frequently depicted in a sexualized way, regardless of this narrative feature.35 GoW3 builds upon a tradition of simplifying Aphrodite’s complex nature and identifying her with mortal women and their sexuality; as such, her representation becomes significant in how it translates onto perceptions of real women.

Social impact and critique Though Aphrodite is commonly identified with mortal women, she is not intended to be the character with whom players of GoW3 identify; this would be Kratos. Kratos embodies the archetypal Spartan alpha male, who exerts his power through violence and who embodies numerous toxically masculine traits.36 Recognising Kratos as an anti-hero, players walk a tight rope between moral observation of his behaviors and roleplaying as him for the duration of gameplay, thus experiencing what it would be like to exercise such aloof dominance, indomitable strength, confidence, and sexual appeal. Most of Kratos’ actions are pre-programmed and inevitable, such as murdering Poseidon’s prisoner, which one player describes as ‘pure evil’;37 others offer players a choice, as with engaging in Aphrodite’s minigame. Though Kratos is a superlative character, a scene from GoW1 attempts to make him more human and relatable as the narrator explains that he was unable to escape ‘the horrors which plagued his mind’, and that consuming large quantities of wine and women offered him no emotional reprieve.38 This seemingly human side may inspire pathos and increase the player’s ability to identify with the anti-hero. Contrastingly, Aphrodite is a non-playable character (NPC), near inconsequential to the plot, with her sex appeal offering players a reward or entertaining break from battle gameplay.39 It is therefore assumed that most players will not identify with Aphrodite; however, considering how girls and women comprise half of the gamer demographic and are themselves frequently sexualized (see Cook and Draycott, Introduction, pp. 1–2), there will perhaps be players who do identify with Aphrodite, after all.40

A sex object It should not be assumed that all players of GoW3 fulfil a single character profile or that all consumers of the game are complicit in perpetuating misogynistic representations of women in media. Whilst there is evidence that some players consider gaming to be a ‘boys club’ that is under attack from feminists and women and girl players, it would be reductive to assume this attitude is held by all other players outside this demographic.41 Fourth-wave feminism is characterized by the use of social media as a tool for online activism, challenging the hegemony of ‘cis-het-white-male’ privilege through widely 134

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accessible platforms. This has provoked defensive and sometimes aggressive retaliation, with critics charging feminists with generalizing all men as the sexually violent oppressors of women.42 However, the accessibility of online activism has also resulted in greater awareness of the nuances of Kimberlé Crenshaw’s theory of intersectionality, discouraging simplistic homogenization of social groups.43 As such, considering the social implications of sexualizing women in video games should be viewed as part of a wider social issue that affects some people disproportionally more so than others and within which many participate, regardless of their gender. Identifying with the ‘masculine’ warrior archetype of Kratos and indulging in a sex minigame with the goddess of love may be considered harmless role play, with many gamers remaining sceptical about the impact of video games on real life;44 however, notable studies have identified correlations between engaging in video game scenarios and sexual fantasies, and replicating behaviours in the real world.45 Exploring illegal and violent scenarios in video games allows players to partake in activities that otherwise remain morally reprehensible or forbidden in reality. Games such as in the Grand Theft Auto franchise (GTA) provide players the option to have sex with, steal from, and murder women sex workers (see Tuplin, Chapter 14, pp. 208–209). Though all NPC kills drop money (not just the sex workers) and result in police chases highlighting an unethical act has been committed, the player’s option to harm sex workers for financial gain can nevertheless inspire harmful ideas; for example, a study investigating teenage boys who had played GTA reported their impression that such women should ‘expect to be raped . . .’46 This is a serious message for young audiences to receive, especially considering a wider rape culture which normalizes this attitude and regards certain women as disposable and denied agency.47 Such perspectives are especially harmful to variously marginalized women, whether sex workers or not.48 Though the scene in GoW3 is not violent it nevertheless conveys harmful messages which can contribute to gendered violence. Drawing upon an attested history of Aphrodite’s sexual objectification, from her suggested sexual accessibility to mortal men, her naked form subject to the male gaze, and the violation of her sculpture, GoW3 uses Aphrodite as a digitized sex toy for players to use. Objectification is the process through which a person is reduced to their body and divorced from their agency;49 when the objectified person is viewed as having only a sexual purpose this becomes sexualization. Speaking of women sexualized by (cisgender) men specifically, Sheila Jeffreys describes this as ‘the treatment of women as sex objects for men to toy with for their pleasure’.50 According to the American Psychological Association, sexualization occurs when ‘a person’s value comes only from his or her sexual appeal or behaviour, to the exclusion of other characteristics’.51 Fasoli et al. (2018) identified a continuum of sexualization and objectification, finding that assumptions are made about a person’s character depending on where they appear on the continuum. Their conclusions confirmed that, though sexualization occurs to both men and women in popular media (the study only included two genders), it occurs more frequently for women.52 In addition to assumptions of decreased intellectual capacity, sexualized people are also commonly deemed less intelligent, agentic, moral, and less human.53 As GoW3’s 135

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Aphrodite represents a caricature of a sexually corrupt woman, the above assumptions are emphasized: she is disinterested in intellectual pursuits; her agency is questionable due to her bedroom confinement and Kratos’ dominance over her; one could argue that she is immoral in her unapologetic infidelity; and as for ‘less human’, Aphrodite is certainly less divine than her Titan and Olympian counterparts. Aphrodite is reduced to little more than a mortal woman’s body which is designed and kept for a single purpose; indeed, ‘the only thing she cares about is having sex’.54 Not only is she divorced from her divinity, but her humanity and autonomy also, as suggested by her oversized wrist cuffs and the audible sound of clinking metal as she moves, evocative of Poseidon’s chained captive. Aphrodite does not participate in the same world as the other characters, gods or goddesses, functioning only as a (woman’s) body and its sexual capacity. This is emphasized by her closing dialogue where she dismisses Kratos, saying, ‘You men and your need for war and vengeance,’ demarcating her separateness from the concerns of men and the other deities. The creators of GoW3 could be justified in their representation of Aphrodite, owing to her representation in the Homeric tradition and Pliny the Elder’s aforementioned tale of a mortal man’s overwhelming desire for her statue. A source attributed to Lucian elaborates further on this lurid incident, explaining that the man in question had repeatedly thrown dice hoping for a sign that Aphrodite consented to his advances, but each time she rejected him. Eventually ‘the violent tension of his desires turned to desperation’ and the man forced himself upon the statue; thereafter ‘the goddess had that blemish to prove what she’d suffered’.55 The account continues with an individual exclaiming: Οὐκοῦν τὸ θῆλυ, κἂν λίθινον ᾖ, φιλεῖται. τί δ᾿, εἴ τις ἔμψυχον εἶδε τοιοῦτο κάλλος; Women therefore inspire love even when made of stone. But what would have happened if we had seen such beauty alive and breathing?56 Projection of sexual objectification, whether mortal or divine, perceives the individuals as if they are no longer an agentic person; with this, it may be presumed that the objectindividual cannot, or need not provide consent. This sexual objectification is dehumanizing, as can be seen elsewhere in the franchise, from the use of an exposed and handcuffed woman as a tool to prop open a door, or Kratos’ repeated sexual consumption and discarding of unnamed women like chattel. However, the dehumanization of sexualized women is not something that is confined to virtual worlds, but is carried over into reality, as experienced by countless women video gamers; for example, Anita Sarkeesian has shared her experiences of abuse from men and boy gamers online which sought to reduce her to that of a ‘receptacle’ for sexual violence and did not view her as a human being who would read and internalize such abuse.57 Sarkeesian affirms that such threats should not be dismissed as mere online ‘trolling’ because they can cause real damage to the victims and reveal deep-rooted misogyny.58 The cognitions that result from the sexualization of women’s bodies goes beyond external judgement and can become internalized, with 136

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studies identifying how exposure to sexually objectified images of women in mainstream media can lead adults and young people alike to be more accepting of sexual harassment in real life.59 According to Sarkeesian, ‘Sexualized women in video games are mainly there to be looked at, consumed. It shouldn’t surprise us if real women gamers are in turn looked at in much the same way.’60 Therefore, repeated exposure to the sexualized objectification of women in virtual media is not harmless fantasy and is capable of infiltrating the psyche and influencing real-world behaviour. Instant and entitled access to women’s bodies is an expected part of the alpha-male experience, embodied by Kratos and validated by Aphrodite’s sexual availability and submissiveness. According to the Fandom page, Aphrodite prefers the company of men and merely makes do with her woman companions, explaining how readily she dismisses them.61 This evokes real statements levied against women-loving-women suggesting that they just need to find themselves a ‘real man’ or the ‘right man’.62 Even Aphrodite refers to Kratos as a ‘real man’, comparing him to her ‘worthless’ husband. This conveys a message to players that sexually attractive women desire and can be obtained by ‘real’ men who are like Kratos (i.e. muscled, arrogant, emotionally numb, and aggressive). Failure to fit this mould results in identification with the cuckold outcast, Hephaestus. This is justified by Homeric sources, describing Aphrodite’s preference for figures such as Ares and Adonis, instead of Hephaestus, whose physical deformity rendered him ‘a weakling among the gods’ and who was cast from Olympus by his own mother.63 As such, players have little option but to look up to the alpha-male archetype when playing and absorb the message that hypermasculinity is desirable. Kratos is granted access to Aphrodite, despite the fact that he is openly disrespectful and dismissive of her. Their engagement is entirely on his terms and is a means of extracting information for his quest, rather than relating to another being, mortal or divine. Furthermore, the idea of men’s entitlement to women’s bodies reaches beyond its existence in video games and aligns itself with the insidious machinations of individuals colloquially termed ‘incels’, or ‘involuntarily celibates’.64 Incels consider themselves entitled to sex and are aggrieved that they do not have open access to women’s bodies, blaming this on women’s cruel arrogance. Whilst such individuals are certainly not representative of the majority of gamers, they nevertheless are typified by their online presence and consumption of video games.65 When incel ideations are acted upon they manifest in the form of harassment, abuse, and violence.66 One particularly devastating case involved an incel identifying with the mythic Amazon-slayer, Hercules, who like GoW3’s Kratos, is an alpha-male of god-like status.67 Identifying with Hercules, this individual sought to punish and put women in their place. Though this is an extreme case, incels operate within a wider paradigm of a misogynist culture. Classical myths featuring the defeat of women by men, such as Hercules killing Amazons, were used in antiquity to warn against the danger of women’s sexual and personal autonomy; today, such myths serve to justify and normalize gendered violence, from depicting women politicians as the beheaded Medusa, with male political rivals represented as the triumphant Perseus.68 GoW3’s depiction of Aphrodite functions in a similar way, identifying her as the archetypal loose woman available for men’s use. Classical myths 137

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celebrating heroes defeating and/or sexually subjugating powerful or monstrous women continue to thrive in Western cultures where sexism is politically sanctioned and where (typically) men seek access to women’s bodies, as exemplified by the #MeToo movement.69 Women who deny such access are accused of ‘asking for it’ and blamed for dressing or behaving in a certain way.70 Interestingly, the video game Smite features Aphrodite as a playable character and though she has a sexualized appearance, one of her defensive moves includes ‘back off ’, exemplifying her power to reject undesired attention; in so doing, Smite confers the message that perceived sexual allure does not alone denote consent.71 Unfortunately, this is not the design nor purpose of GoW3’s Aphrodite, where her sexual appearance represents her sexual availability.

Aphrodite porne Another parallel between the sexual objectification of Aphrodite and real women is the design of the sex minigame itself, which, like other hypersexualized user-created mods and masturbation games, allude to trends in post-millennium pornography.72 The choice of voice acting style and dialogue in GoW3’s minigame is an example of this parallel; another is the depiction of certain sexual themes that feature as popular pornographic genres, namely same-gender interactions and sex with multiple partners.73 Aphrodite’s submissive willingness also plays into common pornographic representations of power dynamics, whereby, though she appears enthusiastic, the power still resides with Kratos, the male agent.74 The quick pace, apparent irrelevance, and voyeurism of the minigame also aligns with recent approaches to consuming pornography as a quick, anonymous, non-committal activity.75 There is also an element of selecting the object-woman’s physical appearance according to one’s preferences, with each of Aphrodite’s lovers possessing contrasting physical features (Figure 9.2).76 This is also an element that appears in games such as in the Witcher franchise, which encourages players to collect women via a series of erotic cards that function as trophies of sexual conquest, evocative of real-life ‘lad-culture’ behaviours.77 It is not at odds with Aphrodite’s ancient character to associate her with sex work, for the term ‘pornography’ takes its meaning from the ancient Greek πόρνη (porne, prostitute) and ϒράϕω (grapho, to write); furthermore, Aphrodite bore the epithet πόρνη in her patronage of hetaerae (courtesans).78 GoW3’s choice to portray Aphrodite in an environment and scene suggestive of pornography and sex work is therefore not necessarily inaccurate. Whilst some games feature sex workers for the purpose of titillation, others confer agency and power upon women sex workers based in the ancient world (see Tuplin and Cook, Chapters 14 and 15). Thus, Aphrodite in GoW3 could be interpreted as sexually agentic and liberated, pursuing multiple lovers and seeking her own pleasure.79 Perhaps Aphrodite uses and discards lovers much like Kratos? Indeed, at the close of the minigame in GoW1, Kratos abruptly sneers, ‘Now get your things and get out!’ in much the same way that Aphrodite dismisses her lovers, with a cold, ‘Be gone!’80 Feminist discourse pertaining to women’s sexual expression and 138

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Figure 9.2 Screenshot from God of War III. Image courtesy of Olivia Ciaccia. behaviour has been consistently heated: some advocate for women’s freedom to choose whether or not to dress ‘provocatively’, to be sexually promiscuous, and support ethical sex work; others denounce such behaviours asserting that they play into misogyny’s hands.82 As the patron of hetaerae, Aphrodite would concur with the former position. One could then suggest that Aphrodite in GoW3 is sexually liberated and content with her role. Indeed, unlike the game’s predecessors, GoW3’s minigame offers its leading lady a voice and dialogue; furthermore, Aphrodite actively pursues Kratos, presumably for her own satisfaction, exercising what Catherine Hakim refers to as ‘erotic capital’, a legitimate agentic method for women to get ahead through erotic means.82 Nevertheless, such suggestions are widely optimistic. The Pandora’s Box narrative has already asserted that Aphrodite’s behaviour is a corrupted version of her (women’s) sexuality, rather than a healthy expression. Indeed, her sexual appetite justifies her extramarital affairs, suggesting that women who enjoy sex are immoral and adulterous.83 Sexual empowerment is not identified by performative displays of (real or imagined) sexual pleasure; instead, it is an individual’s agentic enjoyment of their sexuality, for their own sake, whilst also maintaining the various other aspects of their personhood. In contrast to how GoW3 develops Pandora’s mythic character beyond her traditional role as the bringer of the world’s evils, Aphrodite is stripped of the fullness of her history and character.84 Rather than an opportunity to express her selfhood and agency, Aphrodite’s dialogue and behaviour serve only to reinforce a one-dimensional function. The representation of Aphrodite’s pleasure, or that of her voyeuristic lovers, is hollow, for their visually amorous response to the scene off-camera and Aphrodite’s concluding crescendo of moaning remains firmly within the ‘male gaze’.85 The description of Aphrodite’s body on the Fandom page articulates this gaze, describing her as normatively 139

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attractive, with ‘perfectly sized and formed breasts (most likely to sexually appeal to mortals)’. The page also explains that being sexually experienced makes her difficult to please, except, of course, for alpha males like Kratos.86 Furthermore, such displays of supposed pleasure cannot be taken at face value, as shown through the mechanics of controversial video games that require players to enforce sexual pleasure on nonconsenting women NPCs.87 The choice to depict Aphrodite in this way is therefore clearly not intended to celebrate women’s sexual agency. The inclusion of the minigame demonstrates that now that Pandora’s Box is open in the game-world, characters such as Kratos are free to take advantage of the consequences of corruption. This also extends into the real world, conveying the message to players that women like Aphrodite, who represent women’s already corrupted sexuality, should expect to be sexually used.

Moving forward Although this chapter affords considerable criticism towards GoW3’s depiction of Aphrodite, the franchise has since revised its sexist tradition, with the developers recognizing that,‘We have the ability to say something with what we do.’88 The 2018 addition to the franchise thus intended to express ‘a maturation of not only the series but Kratos himself’, with developers revising Kratos’ toxically masculine character by positioning him as a responsible father of a young boy.89 With this, the game’s representation of women is drastically improved. The sex minigame is omitted and the depiction of the Norse goddess Freya, who is traditionally (though perhaps reductively) associated with ‘love’, shows no resemblance to GoW3’s Aphrodite; however, though certainly the result of conscious choice by the creators, it is noteworthy that Freya’s reputation in popular culture is influenced by receptions of empowered Viking shieldmaidens.90 Aphrodite, by contrast, is a goddess whose post-classical reception has been consistently reductive. The studies referenced in this chapter have highlighted some of the ways video games can transmit messages to players. The question then arises of who is responsible for actioning much needed changes in the representation of women in these games? Enrique Javier Díez Gutiérrez observes that the responsibility to address the problematic nature of such games rests across several levels. For one, game developers should be mindful of the messages they put out which infiltrate consumer psychologies.91 There are numerous stages in the development of video games, offering multiple opportunities for any individual in the process to come forward with concerns over representation and explicit and implicit messaging. On the other hand, adult carers could take more interest in the games they allow juvenile dependents to play, as official age restrictions seem ineffective.92 If consumers exacted a widespread boycott of sexist or violent games they would render their production redundant.93 Unfortunately, ethical issues are frequently compromised in favour of commercial profit and as such, some companies may be more inclined to address the sexualization of women in video games if finances are at stake.94 Whatever the medicine, the symptoms are clear: the repeated representation of sexualized women’s bodies for player consumption normalizes and condones this behaviour bleeding into real life. 140

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Conclusions GoW3’s developers chose to characterize Aphrodite as another reproduction of the womanas-sexualized-object video game trope, rather than their original representation of her as an Olympian goddess in GoW1. Not only is this a tired representation of women in video games, which has faced consistent criticism over the last twenty years,95 but it is also a tired representation of Aphrodite, repeating reductive antiquarian and colonial receptions of Aphrodite, as well as the ancient idea that the goddess and her mortal counterparts were sexually accessible to mortal men.96 As GoW3 takes inspiration from Greek mythology the resulting mythopoesis can make a lasting impression of that mythology and ancient history to the game’s audience. The Fandom wiki page for GoW3 provides a summary of mythological information about Aphrodite for the curious player, though it does not address her anachronistic portrayal.97 Whilst emerging scholarship is locating Aphrodite’s more complex ancient character,98 this will take time to reach popular audiences and so a more historically faithful approach is insufficient in combating pressing social issues resulting from her continued misrepresentation. Aphrodite is a figure whose attributes have been projected onto real women making her representation not only inaccurate, but actively harmful. Video games are a social arena where women characters have often been represented as sexualized tools and, though playing (and enjoying) such games does not mean the players themselves are misogynist, it does reflect how gendered discrimination and violence is perpetuated and normalized in Western culture. As aforementioned, more recently, the GoW franchise has recognized the potential social impact of their games and are now endeavouring to take a more responsible approach. As such, they are amongst those in the industry leading the way in using video games as a platform for sophisticated storytelling, as well as a means of conveying positive and progressive messages. The reception of Aphrodite still has much to be desired in the realm of video games and in the multitudinous ways that her name and image are used in popular culture. Should game developers wish to draw inspiration from the ancient world and base a character on Aphrodite, one can hope that it will be undertaken with conscious acknowledgment of the responsibility they have to convey positive messages through her representation. Additionally, opting to spend more time exploring Aphrodite’s complex ancient roles and persona would provide a frankly more interesting and exciting character than the one who is currently and repeatedly on offer.

Notes 1. This chapter contains references to sexual violence which may cause some readers distress. I am grateful to Professor Genevieve Lively for commenting on an earlier draft of this chapter and to Thomas Alexander Husøy for commenting on the included Greek translations. 2. Cyrino (2010: 3). 3. Ibid., 131–8; for examples, see Giant Bomb ‘Aphrodite’. 4. Sony Computer Entertainment (2010–15).

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Women in Classical Video Games 5. Metacritic CBS Interactive ‘God of War III (PS3) reviews at Metacritic.com’; Sony Computer Entertainment (2010–15). 6. God of War Fandom ‘God of War III’. 7. Giant Bomb ‘Aphrodite’; Sony Computer Entertainment (2005). 8. God of War Fandom ‘Poseidon’s Princess’. 9. A common feature applied to women in video games; Kearney and Pivec (2007: 490). 10. Giant Bomb ‘Sex Mini Game’; God of War Fandom ‘Topless Women’; Sony Computer Entertainment (2005, 2007 and 2010–15); and Clare (2021): 55. 11. Although the game is rated 18 in the UK. 12. Pironti (2010: 118) and Cyrino (2010: 131, 134). 13. Pironti (2010: 121) and Christodoulou (2019: 150). 14. Pironti (2010: 113, 118). 15. Homer, Iliad 5.336–7. 16. Ibid., 5.427–30. 17. Philostratus the Younger describes Athena as being ‘masculine in general appearance’; Philostratus the Younger (1931), Imagines 8. 18. Papadopoulos (2010: 69). 19. British Museum ‘1856,0512.16’. 20. Hesiod, Theogony 933. 21. Budin (2002: 330, 322). 22. God of War Fandom ‘Aphrodite’ and ‘God of War III’. 23. Homer, Odyssey 8.266–9. 24. Euripides, Dramatic fragments 898.6–10. 25. Euripides, Hippolytus 51–121; Homeric Hymn to Aphrodite 5.8–20. 26. Homeric Hymn to Aphrodite 5.247–8. 27. Budin (2002: 330). 28. Given (2002: 420, 427). 29. Athenaeus, The Learned Banquets 13.590f–591b; Morales (2011: 73–4). 30. Lucian, Greek Anthology 16.160; Gutzwiller (2004: 397). 31. Lucian, Greek Anthology 16.163, Gutzwiller (2004: 398). 32. Pliny the Elder, Natural History 36.21. 33. One Touch of Venus 1948; La Venere di Cheronea 1957. 34. Sony Computer Entertainment (2005, 2007). 35. Cassell and Jenkins (1998: 7–8). 36. Hildegard (2018: 6). 37. TheKamykazyShow (2018). 38. Sony Computer Entertainment (2005). 39. Stermer and Burkley (2012: 527). 40. Yanev (2020) and Jeffreys (2014: 18). 41. Sarkeesian and Cross (2015: 109–10).

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Opening Pandora’s Box 42. Zuckerberg (2018: 1–2, 7) and Real (2020). 43. Rivers (2017: 5, 31) and Crenshaw (1989). 44. Stermer and Burkley (2012: 528). 45. Zurbriggen and Yost (2004: 296). 46. Kearney and Pivec (2007: 494). 47. Phillips (2017: 2–3). 48. Kendall (2020: 59–60). 49. Nussbaum (1995: 257) and Langton (2009: 228–9). 50. Jeffreys speaks specifically about men sexualizing women here, though sexualization can happen to all genders, by all genders; Jeffreys (2014: xvi). 51. American Psychological Association (APA, 2007). 52. Fasoli, et al. (2018): 348. 53. Ibid., 340, 348. 54. God of War Fandom ‘Aphrodite’. 55. Lucian, Amore 16. 56. Ibid., 17. 57. Sarkeesian and Cross (2015: 110–12). 58. Ibid., 112. 59. Papadopoulos (2010: 69). 60. Sarkeesian and Cross (2015: 113). 61. God of War Fandom ‘God of War III’. 62. National Lesbian and Gay Survey (1992: 102). 63. Homeric Hymn to Apollo 315–19. 64. Hoffman, Ware and Shapiro (2020: 565). 65. Ibid., 566; and Schildkraut, Elsass and Stafford (2015: 96). 66. Morales (2020: 6). 67. Ibid., 7. 68. Ibid., 6–7; and Beard (2017). 69. Zuckerberg (2018: 4). 70. Rivers (2017: 125). 71. Smite Fandom, ‘Aphrodite’. 72. Purcell (2012: 107–246). 73. Ibid., 119. 74. Stermer and Burkley (2012: 527). 75. Purcell (2012: 109). 76. Ibid., 115. 77. Witcher Fandom, ‘Romance Card’; Phillips and Young (2015: 460–1). 78. Liddell (1984: πόρνη, γράϕω) and Rosenzweig (2004: 75–6). 79. Purcell (2012: 162) and Jeffreys (2014: 5).

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Women in Classical Video Games 80. God of War Fandom, ‘Topless Women’. 81. Henry (2003: 209–32), Bell (2009) and Anderson (2018: xiv). 82. Hakim (2010: 499–518). 83. Also dangerous to unwitting men as in God of War Ascension, where a cut scene portrays a harem of topless women, who caress themselves and each other, attempting to seduce Kratos before attacking him; Sony Computer Entertainment (2013). 84. See Clare (2021: 53, 78). 85. Oliver (2017: 452). 86. God of War Fandom, ‘Aphrodite’. 87. Such as the disturbing rape-fantasy game, Benki Kuosuko; Gutiérrez (2014: 62–3). 88. Plante (2018). 89. Sony Computer Entertainment (2020). 90. For example, see representations of Shield Maidens in the successful Vikings television; Vikings (2013). 91. Gutiérrez (2014: 63). 92. Ibid., 63; and Papadopoulos (2010: 9). 93. Gutiérrez (2014: 63–4). 94. Ibid., 64; and Fernández (2003). 95. Cassell and Jenkins (1998: 7–8). 96. Given (2002: 420, 427). 97. God of War Fandom, ‘Aphrodite’. 98. For example, Pironti (2010) and Christodoulou (2019).

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PART III QUEENS AND COMMONERS

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CHAPTER 10 WOMEN AND VIOLENCE IN ANCIENT MEDITERRANEAN VIDEO GAMES Hannah-Marie Chidwick

Introduction It seems such a cliché to write about violence in video games. This increasingly pertinent and complex issue saturates scholarship in Cultural and Media Studies, Psychology, Sociology, Economics, Public Policy and beyond, but it is yet to be treated explicitly in the context of receptions of the ancient Mediterranean.1 Since the 1990s, most video games, especially those in historical settings, have coerced their players into violence, whether with a sword, a cartoon mallet or bad vocabulary, ascribing to their participants the agency to kill, mutilate, rape and torture their opponents at the push of a button.2 For the gamer, brutality colours normality, with strikes against opponents rewarded by numerical grading, game-specific capital or enhanced physical strength. Savagery is a selling hook: the blurb for the 2013 expansion pack to Creative Assembly’s bestseller, Total War: Rome II, exclaims: ‘Experience the violent horror of the ancient world battlefield with Total War: ROME II Blood & Gore DLC. Blood & Gore brings the savagery of front-line combat to viscera-splattering life with decapitations, dismemberment and devastating impalements,’ ending with the tagline, ‘How far will you go for Rome?’ The relationship between violence and women – as playable characters or non-player characters (NPCs) – furthermore constitutes a gap in the conversation concerning games set in the ancient Mediterranean. In general, unless the research is framed by a feminist methodology, discussion of violence in video games eschews the topics of battery, intimate partner violence (IPV), rape and female agency in virtual fighting scenarios. This chapter will analyse the way violence is perpetrated by and against women in action, strategy and role-playing video games set in a period where extreme brutality is a genre benchmark. The case studies selected allow for exploration of players’ expectations concerning the relationship between women and violence in ancient Mediterranean narratives, and how those expectations relate to broader trends concerning gender ideals. The discussion will be informed by paratextual materials which provide an insight into gamers’ and game-developers’ attitudes to violence against women as entertainment, in a market dominated by male protagonist storylines, for a target audience of heterosexual, generally cisgender, males.3 Studies suggest no clear line of causation between violent video games and real-life aggression.4 Nevertheless, there is widespread concern that the normalized representation of violence against women in immersive media is not only unnerving, but intersects with broader sociocultural attitudes and discourses which facilitate the battery, rape or 147

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murder of real women.5 Discourses run deep and these days they run digital. When it comes to the ‘sword and sandal’ arena (receptions of the ancient Mediterranean which prioritize physical brutality), the contentious relationship between women and violence warrants further investigation. Sian Beavers recently treated the characterization of women in Crytek’s counterfactual Ryse: Son of Rome (2013), noting every female character’s representation as ‘exceedingly problematic’.6 This chapter will work towards a new understanding of the logics of violence in ancient Mediterranean video games, by considering how the women–violence relationship in some games is informed by, and may function to uphold, harmful ideas about masculinity and femininity. Furthermore, certain trends construct a scaffold of expectations which bolster a conception of ancient warfare specific to certain spheres of twenty-first-century popular culture.

Women and violence in video games Most Triple-A blockbusters considered by consensus to be ‘real games’ are worlds that foreground violence.7 Violence perpetrated by women features across a range of popular franchises, like Core Design’s Tomb Raider, Platinum Games’ hack-and-slash fantasy Bayonetta, and Guerrilla Games’ Horizon Zero Dawn. However, as Malika Saada Saar reported for HuffPost, video games set in modern or speculative worlds routinely present violence against women, including battery and rape, as first-person entertainment.8 The proliferation of ‘Violent-Sexist’ games has prompted critique and concern,9 with studies connecting them to the endurance of ‘rape culture’ myths,10 and ‘decreased empathy’ amongst male players for female victims.11 Other chapters in this volume treat sexualized portrayals of women in ancient Mediterranean games; this chapter joins the conversation by broaching the women– violence relationship in digital gaming, intimately connected to the portrayal of female bodies and behaviours. If ‘game aesthetics are designed primarily to cater for male interests’, as Jo Bryce, Jason Rutter and Cath Sullivan argue,12 then it follows that the logics of violence in play similarly ‘cater for male interests’.13 Where do these logics stem from and how do they work in ancient Mediterranean games? Even in virtual, far-removed historical settings, these spaces – like geographical, architectural and social contexts – reflect and perpetuate real sociocultural norms, including gender ideals. Gender ideals underpin attitudes, individual or institutional, to violence against women.14 This chapter showcases a methodological approach to digital media which begins by focusing on representations of violence and women. This methodology will be used to read case studies from (amongst others) two long-running, mainstream franchises influenced by Roman and Greek culture: Total War, especially Total War: Rome II, and Sony Interactive Entertainment’s God of War action universe (2005–18), particularly the Furies as female antagonists in the fourth instalment, Ascension (GOW:A). Both games were released in 2013, the year the US military lifted the ban on women combatants. 148

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‘Characteristics of online gaming environments,’ assert Jesse Fox and Wai Yen Tang, ‘including anonymity, diminished nonverbal cues, lack of observable authority, and a hypermasculine atmosphere’ facilitate sexual harassment and negative interaction.15 By prohibiting female participation, gaming spaces can permit the reinforcement of certain masculine/feminine behavioural trends and expectations.16 Exploring these trends, and their relationship to the ancient past, can enable us to challenge them. This chapter adopts a ‘multimethod’ interdisciplinary approach, advocated by many working under the umbrella of violence studies, informed by feminist critical theory.17 Alongside scholarship and gameplay itself, it is productive to consider player responses to the games via the paratextual multiverse of online discussion boards, fora, reviews and guides, in order to show how these game-worlds function in real hands and hearts, and how developers respond to their audience’s needs with their creative choices. This author does not claim to universalize the gamer experience, nor to argue that all gamers consciously enjoy participating in violence against or oppression of women in digital storyworlds.18 In dialogue with scholarship concerning interpersonal violence in video games of all genres, this chapter explores whether historical games reproduce broader trends by providing spaces where players can participate in unconstrained, uncritical brutality against women, without real-life accountability.19 While this author could find no rape in mainstream ancient Mediterranean digital games, studies have shown that popular media does not need to explicitly feature scenes of sexual assault to contribute to ‘rape myths’ and the objectification of women’s bodies.20 Media images which pair sex and brutality tend to impact negatively on attitudes to women,21 and can generate more acceptance of IPV. The case studies discussed in this chapter feature, varyingly, the ‘violent-sexist’ content consistent with Triple-A game trends, but as these games draw from historical and/or mythic narratives, we might ask whether the violent content is an attempt to ‘authentically’ reflect stories inherited from an ostensibly systemically violent ancient Mediterranean. The slippery concepts of ‘authenticity’ and ‘accuracy’ in video games are inextricably part of the problem when it comes to the connection between brutality and women. The questions concern what ‘scripts’ or ‘knowledge structures’ – traits, sex, beliefs, values – sustain the portrayal of women as victims or perpetrators of violence in ancient Mediterranean games, and how players interact with this violence.22

Brand ancient Mediterranean Violence is not just an expectation of many historical games, but a fundamental component. Part of the pleasure of gameplay is swinging a sword or wielding an axe, and watching opponents splinter into a savage blast of red polygons. Both Total War and God of War, although differing in many ways, take their titles from the most common manifestation of violence in historical video-gaming: war. Marcus Power writes that ‘war has been a mainstay of commercial video-game culture from the very beginning’, with 149

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ancient Mediterranean warfare especially popular.23 It is perhaps to be expected that war features prominently in games inspired by conflict-driven Roman and Greek historiographies: series like Ancient Warfare (2016–17) and Civilization (1991–2016) prioritize military conflict, often in real-time strategy format, like Rome: Total War. The central unit of war is largely considered to be combat, but in the context of ancient Mediterranean digital games, combat of what ilk?24 What are gamers doing, and why, when they engage in collective or individual virtual violence that involves female bodies? In digital gaming, combat and conflict become neatly packaged, empirical concepts:25 click to engage in combat mode or ‘Concede defeat’ through the Rome II Game Menu. The virtual world allows for killing and mutilation which is decontextualized from civilian space: there are no perceived ‘actual’ repercussions in the gamer’s life. Many games, like Activision’s Call of Duty series, are popular because of their military subject matter.26 Furthermore, digital gaming has become commonplace in UK and US defence strategies and preparation, with video game simulations used to train recruits and normalize battlefield brutality, by replicating warzone scenarios in virtual reality.27 Forces-wide tournaments make cyber warfare into a competitive sport, blurring the distinction between war as real and as entertainment.28 In military communities, aggressive sexuality and violence are naturalized as ‘letting go’, tension-relieving ‘blowouts’, and we perceive similar attitudes underlying ‘trash talking’ repartee and misogynistic behaviour in gaming communities.29 All these phenomena provide an empirical starting point for examining the attitudes to gender and violence which stem from the complex intersection of gamers’ knowledge of professionalized brutality with virtual story-worlds. By entering into play, like going to war, gamers can adopt a new identity, and it is possible that their attitudes to brutality and sex transform or amplify as a result. The remote historical period, as this chapter discusses, precipitates its own set of genre expectations which can serve to legitimize hostile behaviours: as general, emperor, legionary, players can indulge in praxes accordant with societies painted as patriarchal, military – like political manoeuvres resulting in mass slaughter. In modern UK and US cultures, war is commonly accepted and purported as a site of ‘hypermasculinity’,30 wherein the archetypal, male warrior is constructed in opposition to others. ‘Consequently,’ write Katharine Millar and Joanna Tidy, ‘the male/masculine (as interchangeable) nature of combat is apoliticized and naturalized into the empirical description of an objective social phenomenon.’31 When a woman enters a warzone – particularly as an agent of violence – this is deemed a political, non-comformist act, open to adverse critique.32 Despite being at base an artificial construction, the artificiality of the idea that military combat is ‘the sole preserve of men’ does not diminish its cogency, especially when it comes to the ancient Mediterranean.33 The rejection of effeminacy and the emasculation of enemy combatants are not unique to twenty-first century war narratives: Latin historiography and poetry provide clear examples of Roman attitudes to the ‘female’ in the warspace.34 In ancient Rome, legitimated violence made men masculine.35 Women barely feature in ancient war reporting, acting merely as reference points for othering or, as Sara Elise Phang describes, 150

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a foil to the ‘highly volatile, aggressive, and competitive’ virtus (manliness, heroism) closely associated with battle.36 As discussed in the Introduction to this volume, the backlash against the inclusion of playable female fighters in Rome II is perhaps unsurprising. Not only do these games feature fabrications of male-dominated empires, in male-dominated digital gaming culture, they are military-themed. Also in 2013, Triple-A war franchise Call of Duty released ‘Ghosts’ which included female fighters in its multiplayer function; other games like EA’s Battlefield V (2018) followed suit. The inclusion of women combatants in modern warfare games was met with fuming accusations of ‘revisionist history’ and ‘political correctness’,37 which impaired the player’s immersion in the game, resulting in the outraged hashtag #NotMyBattlefield. In this context, ‘immersion’ refers both to the way that advances in video game technology and the believability of historical story-worlds in their replication render them ‘increasingly realistic’.38 Using the context of Second World War games, Andrew Salvati and Matthew Bullinger explain that ‘immersion’ and ‘realism’ are essential components of the historical virtual: Immersion privileges the kinesthetic experience of shooting, running, jumping, and navigating through richly rendered landscapes populated by allies, enemy troops, and challenging objectives. [. . .] the capacity to explore well-designed game environments is often cited by players as offering rewarding, authentic engagements with the past.39 Salvati and Bullinger argue that the sense of play and engagement with the games are ‘scaffolded by a set of familiar narratives and generic conventions’, drawn from players’ knowledge and beliefs about the world they are entering.40 The turn-based gameplay of Rome: Total War, the first outing, makes violence clinical (click and drag to move your units, and select from a range of pre-set formations at the bottom of the screen), but the real-time battle re-enactments, spectacular graphics and 3D maps, with ‘unit cameras’ which allow players to focus on individual units, altogether provide the prized ‘immersion’.41 The game therefore aligns with the way that historical video games can allow ‘players to experience violence cleanly’ with allies and enemies clearly demarcated.42 Therefore, using violence and women as an analytical point of departure lead us into tricky territory concerning what kind of ‘scaffolding’ in digital games constitutes a ‘rewarding authentic engagement’ with the ancient Mediterranean, when so many experiential and ideological factors are interlinked. The ‘battlefield’ must seem familiar to the player, even if it is far-removed in space and time. A crucial element of the ‘scaffold’ is when the game replicates events believed to have happened, even when those events become manipulable fantasies through the speculative nature of the game. In Rome: Total War, Augustan Rome can cede to Cleopatra VII’s Egypt. Rome: Total War, where all controllable characters were male, was considered so factually accurate that the Gold Edition (2006) became an ‘illustrator’ for the History channel.43 The chance to ‘rework’ historical battles, either for the sake of curiosity or to create an outcome that better suits 151

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the gamer’s politics, gives players a flexibility within the framework that is a major part of the games’ appeal.44 If, as argued in the Introduction, many young people first encounter the ancient Mediterranean through virtual games, this is often an ancient Mediterranean where few women have agency, and conquerable territory is ascribed female gender. A bloodless, women-less, representation of combat reflects ancient war reporting: while Greek and Latin historians acknowledged the human cost of conflict (see Caes. African War, 71–2; Joseph. JW. 3.246–7), most war narratives and military manuals are starved of the corporeal. Roman historiographers relegate their opponents’ losses to statistics (Livy 22.41), while didactic texts like Vegetius’ On Military Matters recommend which weapons will kill most effectively without loss of blood (fustibalus, 1.16). Furthermore, female rulers and generals are scarce. The discourse in these ancient texts palpably underlies the Total War franchise, particularly in their exclusory attitude to female playable characters. Of course, the ‘Roman warfare’ in which players immerse themselves is not a faithful, ‘accurate’ representation but a complex fabrication of twenty-first-century expectations concerning ancient Mediterranean history, war and the military in general, all enfolded in specific value regimes.45 A truly ‘rewarding, authentic’ experience of virtual warfare should feature both brutality and violent women, on the battlefield and in the inevitable routing, plunder and rape rarely reported. This misrepresentation was perhaps addressed by the developers at Creative Assembly (CA) when they added downloadable content (DLC) featuring ‘viscera-splattering’ violence (Blood & Gore) and, most controversially, playable female generals (Desert Kingdoms, Daughters of Mars) to Rome II. While sensationalized brutality proved desirable (consistent with the post-Gladiator sword-and-sandal genre), assigning authority to women in battle did not, demonstrating that certain logics still apply even in alternate-universe and counterfactual histories. Like Teuta of Illyria, Queen Zenobia and multiple Cleopatras, CA were faced with ‘a horde more vicious and bloodthirsty than the Visigoths or the Spartans: angry manbabies’, wrote Chelsea Steiner for The Mary Sue.46 Reviewers like Richard Lewis theorized that the ‘insertion’ of capable, weapon-bearing women of variant factions into Rome II enraged some gamers because it gave women ‘a disproportionate role in a setting that certainly wasn’t as enlightened as our wonderfully woke present day’, despite the prevalence of the female warrior, like Boudica, in the popular imagination.47 Game developers work with historians and archaeologists to construct what CA call ‘historically authentic’ rather than ‘historically accurate’ story-worlds, but that slim semantic difference did not assuage fans of Total War who vehemently denounced the attribution of agency to ancient female warriors. The ancient Mediterranean exists today as a mesh of ideas which provides a rich and popular resource for digital games. However, this mesh is highly selective, resembling what Salvati and Bullinger refer to as ‘the historically real (our perception of what actually happened in the past)’.48 They explain, ‘game designers draw upon a chain of signifiers assembled from historical texts, artefacts, and popular representations of World War II – an ensemble that we have defined as BrandWW2’.49 The brand unites specific receptions, 152

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ideas, attitudes and fragments of history, including historical newsreels, maps, accurate representation of weapons and technology, to create a ‘synthetic’ history much more durable than the real thing. In twenty-first-century popular culture, historical films, television and novels all draw from and perpetuate the identifiable brand. For instance, C. W. Marshall writes on the Furies across literature, in particular the DC Comics Universe (and GOW:A): ‘any mythological developments made in our hyperliterate age must meet the exacting expectations of cross-referencing and consistency demanded by a readership that ascribes value to recherché allusions not only within a series but also within [a] larger megatext’.50 Games like Rome II work within an ancient Mediterranean history and myth ‘megatext’, in essence a feedback loop which informs virtual storyworlds, and which in turn informs gamers’ perceptions of ancient warfare, to construct a brand.51 Selective interpretations and ubiquitous imagery work to create ‘the historically real’ and the logics which ‘scaffold’ immersion in a recognizable arena. Like any form of marketing, this brand must intersect with contemporary ideas about masculinity, femininity and violence which transcend but are tortuously linked to historical and mythological texts. Those wedded to the brand of the ancient warrior as white, cisgender male, heterosexual – and who pursue that prototype as a desirable icon of the ancient Mediterranean – perceive the inclusion of women and multiple ethnicities in positions of authority as: [sic] the constant ‘streamling/dumbing’ down of Total War iteration after iteration in a desperate attempt to make the franchise appeal to wider casual audience at the cost of the needs and desires of the franchise’s core fans, that want a more complex, historical, and deeper game (like older Total Wars).52 This review is useful solely for its (typical) language, redolent of the ‘alt-right’: it is clear what the reviewer deems to be a ‘rewarding, authentic engagement with the past’. The ‘wider casual audience’ are othered as not true veterans. Within this scaffold of expectations, accusations of ‘historical inaccuracy’ make sense, spawning forum threads under the age-old sentiment, ‘We need to respect history, not change it.’53 This rhetoric reverberates throughout a portion of the online gaming community who rigidly associate ‘a more complex, historical and deeper game’ with the absence of female agency, a discourse which serves to legitimize through repetition rather than proof the vilification of women in the gaming space, and a confrontational response to their inclusion. Examples suggest that the brand permits women to be agents of violence only when women conform to wider gender expectations, which can be located in ancient Mediterranean texts. Although Plato discusses the proficiency of women as guardians and warriors (Republic 451c–457b),54 the Roman historian Livy states unequivocally: ‘No magistracies, no priesthoods, no triumphs, no marks of power, no gifts, no spoils of war can come to [women]: elegance, adornment, clothing – these are women’s marks of power’ (34.7.5–9, trans. Keith).55 The association of ‘elegance, adornment, clothing’ with women is palpable in the promotional material for Rome II. A live-action trailer splices footage of a soldier’s execution with a couple having sex; the woman pulls a knife from 153

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her hair and plunges it into her male lover’s chest.56 The tokenistic inclusion of this seductive and murderous woman, otherwise absent from the gameplay, complies with criteria uncritically connected with the feminine in Roman writings and elsewhere: deception, sexuality, ornamentation; unchecked evil.57 Any woman who defied these stereotypes was considered unnatural. This characterization persists in media today, where the depiction of female murderers ‘as monsters or almost mythical figures of evil is not only a denial of gender but also a denial of agency’, writes Karen Boyle.58 To be rendered monstrous, making her un-womanly, unrelatable, is to a degree to absolve her of human agency in the perpetration of a violent act. Together with this logic, violent women are commonly denied agency through the association of femininity with ‘victimhood’ in the popular imagination, whereby a woman only utilizes ‘masculine’ aggression if coerced.59 The ‘simultaneously sexualised and violent’ Boudica in Crytek’s Ryse: Son of Rome (2013), expertly analysed by Beavers, exemplifies the connection between monstrosity, victimhood and the non-playable woman.60 The connection between identification and agency can be arguably realized in the gaming universe with the NPC: either an anonymous background character or opponent, or a named individual featured prominently in cut-scenes but whose actions the player does not control, therefore with whom they do not have to identify. In this alternate-universe, hack-and-slash adventure game, Boudica the ‘barbarian leader’ is the only female fighter encountered by the legionary protagonist Marius.61 The Roman record of her traumatic backstory (Tacitus, Annals 14.30–6) is transformed, but not to her advantage: Ryse makes her motive for rebellion the murder of her father, not the rape of her daughters, so her life is imperilled for the sake of masculine honour. Her ‘feminine’ demise in Latin literature (poison, suicide) is here made masculine: Boudica kneels before Marius’ sword and cries, ‘Do it, Roman,’ baring her collared throat to her conqueror’s brutality.62 The ‘masculinizing’ makeover of Ryse’s Boudica actually exacerbates her subjection to the violence of this storyworld. In both ancient and modern narratives, she is a victim. The catch-all description ‘barbarian’ signals her monstrosity and otherness, while her sexualized apparel and NPC status ‘undermine her empowerment’ as a combatant.63 Ryse players bemoan the inaccuracy of weaponry and the believability of narrative choices, like Boudica riding an elephant – a further, problematic accentuation of her ‘barbarianism’. However, they do not seem to perceive the presentation of Boudica as a colonized ‘conflation of sex, violence and victimhood’ as disrupting the game’s ‘immersive’ or ‘real’ qualities.64 This does not contradict the brand. Ancient Mediterranean games containing violence can, in some cases, enable a highly toxic alliance of two factions: both the video-gaming community and the Graeco-Roman brand, as it persists today, are in broad strokes notorious for the exclusion, alienation and victimization of women. The reaction to Rome II’s playable female generals and the depiction of Boudica (amongst other female fighters) exhibit gender expectations consistent with the ‘wider societal conceptualizations and representations of masculinity and femininity’65 that both infuse the ancient Mediterranean brand and can, if unknowingly, inform game-makers’ creative choices. 154

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Gendered violence While ancient war narratives routinely exclude or denigrate violent women, the same cannot always be said for Graeco-Roman mythology. Figures like the Erinyes (Furies), for instance, appear across texts as unstoppable, asexual justice-bringers, dominating males. Yet, video games which depart from history in favour of mythology still sustain analogous tropes in their representation of women and violence. In fact, the fantastical machinery of universes like the long-running series, God of War, mean that this representation can be disturbingly intensified, especially in terms of the connection between female sexuality and brutality. This connection runs from the ancient past (see the rape and suicide of Lucretia in Livy 1.57–9),66 through to modern storytelling. In GOW, all bodies are heavily stylized, the women highly sexualized, fulfilling the voyeuristic expectations of many popular game-worlds. GOW has amassed an enormous fan community and a paratextual multiverse that interacts extensively with the games’ receptions of Greek and Norse mythology.67 Much of the action in GOW (rated ‘M’ for Blood and Gore, Intense Violence, Strong Language) is immediately fantastical, happening amongst towering buildings, giant statues and pillar-lined halls, with combat featuring flashes of magic and hyperbolic moves. GOW includes hundreds of female NPCs, almost all victims or seductive antagonists, but no game has a female ‘god of war’.68 While the 2018 reboot trumpets a more ‘thoughtful and mature narrative’, this release prompts reflection on previous GOW outings, especially ‘the series’ creative lowpoint’, Ascension.69 While Ascension polarizes fans, it remains a popular entry in the GOW canon for meeting gamer expectations of the series’ ‘hallmark violence’.70 One reviewer remarked that Ascension’s story ‘took a backseat to the brutality,’ stating, ‘it really is a game that makes you wince, but in a good way’.71 GOW combat is usually waged against gigantic monsters or disfigured humanoid characters; a growing ‘rage meter’ provides quantitative reward for aggression. It is a ‘quest chock full of mythical beasts, breasts, brutality’,72 situated snugly in what we might term the ‘Greek mythological real’, as Sony game design manager David Hewitt explained: ‘Greek mythology’ means ‘blood and guts, vengeful gods, horrific things being enacted on mortals’.73 Ascension makes an especially worthy case study in this chapter for the way its own recreation of ‘Greek mythology’ revolves around mutilated female bodies – mutilated by men. The protagonist, Kratos, has murdered his wife and daughter in a fit of madness; he is haunted throughout the game by the Furies’ illusions of his family’s bloodied corpses. To cease his torture, he seeks the eyes of the Oracle, ripped from her by Zeus. An additional treasure recovered is a Gorgon’s eye. The mutilation and deformation of female bodies in the game is most pronounced in the Furies themselves, whose feminine features are both highly accentuated and distorted. To an extent, Ascension’s Furies coincide with their appearances in ancient sources, especially Aeschylus’ fifth-century bce depiction in The Libation Bearers: ‘like Gorgones, wrapped in sable garments, entwined with swarming snakes!’ (1048ff., trans. Weir Smyth). Ascensions’ Furies, too, wear black; Alecto sports a snake headdress, and all three 155

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can transform into monsters. Fragment 52 of the Greek lyric poet Bacchylides (fifth century bce ) marks a point for the sisters to number three: Alecto, Megaera, Tisiphone.74 Vase paintings depict them as hunters wielding whips, sometimes with wings (Euripides, Oresteia 317), born of blood and dripping with it (Hesiod, Theogony 185).75 Orphic Hymn 68 is dedicated to these ‘terrific virgins’. Always prominent in ancient incarnations is their authority to dominate and emasculate men: for Marshall, receptions of the Furies ‘in whatever form continue to embody a relentless, indefatigable sense of purpose’.76 The vision of the black-robed, snake-haired ‘cthnonic’ monsters, full of rage, bringers of sorrow, became highly influential for Latin writers.77 It is in Ovid’s Metamorphoses, however, that the potential for sexualization in the Furies’ image comes to the fore, including a description of Tisiphone’s snakes ‘gliding over her bosom’ (4.492f.). In Ascension, too, the Furies’ sexuality is intimately connected with violence and monstrosity, tapping into a well-worn media trope which marries centuries of misogyny with brand ancient Mediterranean. When Kratos first encounters Megaera, she leaps into view as legs and breasts; the camera pans upwards to a helmet, her face concealed. She is missing her right arm but has four extra limbs. Giant insects spill from holes in her breasts. Megeara is a powerful agent, but in this cut-scene, her femininity is accentuated to make her monstrous; her sexuality is what is threatening. There are constant indicators of the Furies’ femininity throughout: Kratos defeats Alecto by plunging two swords into her breasts. Game reviewer Stephen Totilo listed as one of his dislikes about Ascension: ‘The sexing-up of enemies that I am then required to cleave into bloody bits. Gross.’ Within the heteronormative arena of the game, a body that is immediately, hyperbolically, recognizable as ‘woman’ should be a sexual object or ‘damsel in distress’, not a combat target, not an agent of destruction. Totilo is revolted by the combination of feminine sexuality with violence: But when a close-up kill include [sic] the slicing of a half-woman/half-snake from her neck to her breast, my takeaway is that I’d rather the sexualization of video game characters and the gory rendering of the death of game characters not be mixed. Please. Unless you’re trying to elicit a reaction that’s more ‘ugh’ than ‘awesome!’78 This reaction indicates the developers’ successful use of a well-worn game-making and horror genre mandate, labelled by the makers of id Software’s Doom 3 (2004) as the ‘sexy + gross = creepy’ formula.79 Female sexuality being rendered grotesque, transgressive and threatening for entertainment is nothing new, and thrives in GOW.80 Further into Totilo’s review, the logic behind his complaint becomes clear when he excuses the explicit nudity in the game (an earlier scene in a harem) with the quip, ‘but, hey, it’s Greek mythology’. In this way, ancient Mediterranean video games match patterns across many digital games but, like the ‘historical real’ of Rome II, they stem from a template of intersecting expectations concerning history, mythology and gender ideals. With the Furies, the game-makers take sexualized body parts and render them monstrous, heightening the horror of the female as emasculating agent. Reviewer Erik Kain, for 156

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Forbes, lists amongst the game’s features, ‘Lots of topless women and topless women monsters, that sort of thing. Which has its place I suppose . . .’81 As monsters or victims, women’s injured bodies ‘have their place’ as sideshows and/or spoils: in Ascension’s precursor, GOW III (2012) one in-play mission sees Kratos manhandle a topless female prisoner through Poseidon’s stronghold, then bind her to a door crank which crushes her, screaming, offscreen. Ascension’s Furies have superhuman agility, strength, stamina; in-play combat predominantly involves magic. But they do not always look monstrous: some cut-scenes bookending boss fights feature a brutality more recognizable as IPV than supernatural sparring. In ‘The Gauntlet of Apollo’, Kratos captures Tisiphone – now a beautiful woman – with a chain, smothers her face and repeatedly smashes her head against the floor, then pushes her body onto a spike. Blood spurts over Kratos and the close-up camera. In another scene, when Tisiphone transforms into an illusion of his wife, Kratos throttles her and breaks her neck. In these scenes, the mode of dispatch is not with magical weaponry but simple battery, a mode not unfamiliar in ancient Mediterranean mythology. Kratos murdered his family in a Hercules Furens-inspired ‘blood frenzy’ that marries Graeco-Roman myth with modern video game violence.82 In this way, the player of GOW is immersed in a universe resembling other ‘violent-sexist’ games which, as Saar describes, can ‘comfortably exist in our rape culture’.83 Hewitt admitted to an issue ‘with violence against women’, stating in advance of Ascension, ‘the team’s pulled back from some of that and assessed that a little more carefully’.84 For a senior game designer to make this claim indicates, above all, a misstep in the understanding of what ‘violence against women’ implies and instigates.85 Reviews of Ascension concentrate predominantly on fighting styles, unlockable content and the defective multiplayer function. Gamers accept and excuse the sexual denigration and brutalization of women in games like GOW because, firstly, it does not depart from virtual gaming norms; secondly, it replicates a specific conception of ‘Greek mythology’. Like the exclusion of women from Total War, this is indicative of the way ‘Classical’ culture can be mobilized to facilitate prejudice and marginalization. On the misogyny of the GTA franchise, which similarly excuses its representation of women as ‘satire’, Saar writes: If Cambodia, India, or Nigeria produced such a video game, there would be global outrage. It would serve as unequivocal evidence of their misogynistic cultures in which women and girls are systemically raped and murdered with impunity. We would critique the ways in which their cultures and values are organized around the normalization of gendered violence.86

Conclusion: Women against violence By examining macro trends and granular details concerning the women-violence relationship in some ancient Mediterranean games, we can detect a toxic, synthetic, 157

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‘historical real’ whose basis in history is highly selective, but which facilitates the continued exclusion and/or victimization of characters and gamers who do not conform to the white, male, heterosexual hegemony. Gaming community responses indicate that gendered violence is internalized by some gamers and developers as entertainment, with players explicitly taking issue only when women, whether verifiable historical figures or punishing goddesses, are not on-brand. This latter point warrants further investigation, as it signals the complex, intersecting factors constituting gamers’ expectations, including the agency of a female character (playable or NPC), the player-character identification, her authority – altogether braced by a historical scaffold. More work needs to be done, beyond the limitations of this paper, to better understand the impact of the widespread normalization of violent-sexist tropes in ancient Mediterranean games, informed by sociological and psychological studies of virtual violence. Game developers’ attempts to redress misogyny are mostly admirable: the soldiers in Rome II, like Kassandra in Assassins Creed: Odyssey, are not as overtly sexualized as Ryse’s Boudica or the Furies. However, these virtual women warriors/victims prompt us to consider a more insidious issue: is it really empowering to put women on the digital battlefield, to make space for female characters and gamers in militaristic storylines valorizing bodily strength, aggression and a hypermasculine physique? ‘Explanations of men’s violence against women,’ write Michael Flood and Bob Pease, ‘and efforts to prevent it, must also address the material conditions and institutionalized power relations that underpin violence against women’.87 Bryce, Rutter and Sullivan argue that despite ‘grrl gamers’ and female-led clans dedicated to proving women are just as capable in ‘masculine game themes of war and aggression’, these subgroups represent neither the experience of most female gamers, nor the kinds of representation sought.88 Instead, critics call for more positive promotion of narrative-driven, over action, games for high-end consoles, expanding what is considered Triple-A ‘real’ gaming.89 In many ancient Mediterranean games, players engage in receptions of history dominated by extreme, often gendered violence. In one sense, these games reinforce assumptions and attitudes about gender hierarchies, but there is potential for them to aid in recognizing and destabilizing the artificiality of these hierarchies.90 This author would like to see more virulent deconstructions of the on-brand ancient Mediterranean ‘historical real’ which has become as empirical a concept as ‘combat’, transforming it into a multiverse which celebrates women rather than concealing them behind swords or sorcery. Notes 1. For a detailed survey of this issue, see Anderson, Buckley and Gentile (2007); Anderson and Bushman (2018). This author writes without consciously asserting a political agenda, nor claiming that virtual violence always begets real-world violence – instead, a concern to expose creative trends. 2. ‘Starting in the late 1980s video game producers experimented with what the public would accept in video games. Gradually it became clear that games sold better if they contained

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Women and Violence more violence’ (Anderson et al. 2007: 5). The majority of game-world perpetrators go unpunished, which some have argued normalizes aggressive behaviour as ‘an effective means of resolving conflict’ (American Psychological Association, APA, 2015: 1). 3. Gender asymmetry in the design and marketing of games is rigorously deconstructed by feminist media critics like Sarkeesian (2016). 4. See Boyle (2005) and Anderson et al. (2007: 8). On the physiological effects of gaming, see Beck, Boys, Rose and Beck (2012: 3027). 5. Flood and Pease (2009) and Bryce, Rutter and Sullivan (2006). Women are not the only category of persons to suffer from this discourse: see Greitemeyer (2014) and Jasinski (2005: 414), on the invisibility of minority group experiences in studies of violent behaviour. Given the sensitivity of the discussion in this chapter, most qualitative data used comes from this author’s cultural context (English-language, UK and US gaming communities). 6. Beavers (2020b: 77). 7. Lien (2013). 8. Saar (2015), on Grand Theft Auto V; Sifferlin (2016) and Beck et al. (2012: 3017). 9. Gabbiadini, Riva, Andrighetto, Volpato and Bushman (2016). 10. Saar (2015). 11. Sifferlin (2016). 12. Bryce, Rutter and Sullivan (2006: 162). 13. Studies are rare which address female gamers’ aggression: Anderson and Murphy (2003). 14. Flood and Pease (2009: 128) and Bryce, Rutter and Sullivan (2006: 162). 15. Fox and Tang (2016: 1291) and Bryce, Rutter and Sullivan (2006: 157). Following #Gamergate in 2014, the ‘hate-storm’ continues today (see Romano 2020). 16. Bryce, Rutter and Sullivan (2006: 156). 17. A mix of quantitative and qualitative data, and multiple methods of data collection. See Jasinski (2005: 415). 18. Jasinski (2005). This chapter does not treat the ‘pleasure’ of video game violence, nor does it link to real-life aggressive behaviours. See Boyle (2005: 26). 19. Beck et al. (2012). 20. Ibid., 3018–19. 21. Flood and Pease (2009: 127). 22. Anderson and Bushman (2002: 35–6). 23. Power (2007: 274). E.g. Commodore 64 release, Legions of Death (1986); see Brouwers (2013). 24. ‘The fact that to many readers this equation of warfare with combat with the purpose of the military will seem obvious is a reflection of the naturalization of this formula’ (Millar and Tidy 2017: 144). 25. Millar and Tidy (2017). 26. See Ciută (2016); and Power (2007) on the ‘war-as-game motif ’. A much-criticized 2019 British Army ad campaign proclaimed, ‘Binge gamers: your army needs you and your drive,’ openly embracing ‘the longstanding relationship between entertainment and military recruitment’ Robinson (2019). 27. British Army (2019). First-person shooter, Soldier of Fortune (2000) was co-designed with a former colonel, Anderson, Buckely and Gentile (2007: 6).

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Women in Classical Video Games 28. British Army (2020). 29. Fox and Tang (2016: 1292). 30. Higate (2003: 203). 31. Millar and Tidy (2017: 146). 32. Basham (2013). 33. Millar and Tidy (2017: 146). 34. See Virgil’s Camilla, one of the few female warriors in Roman texts, whose opponents lament being bested by a woman (Aen. 11.735f.). 35. Foxhall (2013: 84). 36. Phang (2008: 92). 37. Farokhmanesh (2018). Games like Assassins Creed: Odyssey now begin with a disclaimer: ‘this work of fiction was designed, developed, and produced by a multicultural team of various beliefs, sexual orientations and gender identities’. 38. Beck et al. (2012: 3027). 39. Salvati and Bullinger (2013: 156). 40. Ibid., 157. 41. Players comment on how well the graphics handle the ‘thousands of deaths’, with ‘no blood and no stabbing’; see ‘Kid reviews for Rome: Total War (including Barbarian Invasion and Alexander)’, Common Sense Media, at: https://www.commonsensemedia.org/game-reviews/ rome-total-war-including-barbarian-invasion-and-alexander/user-reviews/child (accessed 8 September 2020). 42. Power (2007: 284–5). 43. Dy (2006). Christesen and Machado (2010: 107), argue for the pedagogical use of Ancient Mediterranean war games; Total War paratexts perpetuate this notion, with an ‘Academy’ site for play guides and TV show, Time Commanders (2003–5). 44. Power (2007: 285). 45. Ciută (2016). 46. Steiner (2018). 47. Lewis (2018). 48. Salvati and Bullinger (2013: 153). 49. Ibid., 154. 50. Marshall (2011: 90). 51. Christesen and Machado (2010); see also Clare (2021: 7–9), on ancient-world games and ‘transmedia’, and Paprocki (2020). 52. Chaos Puppy (2018), echoing player responses quoted in the Introduction. 53. Murray (2018). 54. Coker (2002: 56). 55. Keith (2012: 397). 56. Total War (2012). 57. Foxhall (2013: 70), Keith (2012: 397) and Loraux (1987). E.g. Sempronia in Sall. Cat. 24.3–25; Fulvia in Cic. Phil. 2, 4; Cleopatra and Antony in Plut. Ant. 25.5–28.1, 29. 58. Boyle (2005: 100). 160

Women and Violence 59. Ibid., 100–6. 60. Beavers (2020b: 86–7); on NPCs, see Ngan’s chapter in this volume. 61. Beavers (2020b: 87). 62. See Loraux (1987: 9–12). Her costume prompted one YouTuber to comment, ‘She’d be unstoppable if she wore ANY KIND OF ARMOUR AT ALL!’ VGS (2013). 63. Beavers (2020: 87). 64. Ibid., 87. 65. Bryce, Rutter and Sullivan (2006: 153). 66. Keith (2012: 395). 67. Including an official novelization, graphic novels, ABC storybook, a film in the works, YouTube documentaries, even a heavy-metal album, God of War: Blood and Metal (2010). 68. Louw (2019). 69. Khalil (2019). 70. Thomsen (2012). 71. Simmons (2013). 72. Stevens (2013). 73. Thomsen (2012). 74. Marshall (2011: 89). 75. ‘The purification of Orestes’ red-figure vase painting, attributed to Python, c. 360–320 bce . 76. Marshall (2011: 90). 77. Virg. Aen. 7.845; Strabo, Geog. 3.5.11; Val. Flac. Arg. 2.192. A depiction not always replicated in cult images (Paus., Description of Greece 1.28.6). 78. Totilo (2013). 79. Sarkeesian (2016). 80. As meticulously analysed by Goad, in this volume. Famously, Bakhtin associated the ‘grotesque body’ with the feminine (1984: 303–67). 81. Kain (2013). 82. Clare (2021: 43–4). 83. Saar (2015). 84. Thomsen (2012). 85. ‘If video games degrading (e.g., objectification, battery, murder) women increase rape myth acceptance, as suggested by study findings, and that acceptance decreases victim sympathy, then, based on social learning theory of rape, playing such video games may indirectly promote an increase in rape’ (Beck et al. 2012: 3026). 86. Saar (2015). 87. Flood and Pease (2009: 126). 88. Bryce, Rutter and Sullivan (2006: 157). 89. Lien (2013). 90. Bryce, Rutter and Sullivan (2006: 163).

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CHAPTER 11 PLAYING CLEOPATRA IN ASSASSIN’S CREED: ORIGINS Jane Draycott

Introduction On 27 October 2017, Ubisoft released Assassin’s Creed: Origins, the tenth instalment in the main series of the Assassin’s Creed franchise and the seventeenth instalment overall, a major departure from its predecessors in style and scope.1 Set predominantly in Hellenistic Egypt between 49–44 bce , the story follows the Medjay Bayek and his wife Aya on their quest for vengeance for the death of their son Khemu. They become entangled in Egyptian and subsequently ancient Mediterranean politics due to their involvement in the civil war between the Egyptian queen Cleopatra VII Thea Notera Philopator and her brother the Egyptian king Ptolemy XIII. At first, they work for Cleopatra and then switch sides following her alliance with Gaius Julius Caesar, completing tasks for the Roman Republic and the fictional Order of the Ancients. In this chapter, I am going to examine the way in which Cleopatra is portrayed, first in AC Origins and then in Dante’s Inferno (2010, developed by Visceral Games, published by Electronic Arts), to assess not only the historical accuracy but also the historical authenticity of her portrayals in these games, and to consider why the developers of these games have chosen to portray her in these ways. I am not going to ‘fact-check’ AC Origins as such, but I am going to consider the choices made by Ubisoft, and where there have been significant divergences from the historical and archaeological records, consider why these divergences may have been made, with reference to other representations of Cleopatra in popular culture.

Implying Cleopatra AC Origins was not the first video game in the Assassin’s Creed franchise to include Cleopatra VII, although it was the first to feature her in person as a non-playable character (NPC). Upon the release of Assassin’s Creed II in autumn 2009, someone playing through the game as Ezio Auditore da Firenze could discover a secret chamber in the Basilica San Marco in Venice containing what at the time appeared to be the tomb of the ancient assassin Amunet, although upon playing AC Origins it would become apparent that the tomb was actually her cenotaph.2 According to the information given to the player in AC II, Amunet was, in-game, the assassin responsible for the death of Cleopatra.3 The caption that appears on 162

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screen proclaims: ‘Atop this pedestal stands a statue of AMUNET, the female Egyptian assassin. She killed Cleopatra with A SNAKE’ (sic). Presumably, Ubisoft chose Cleopatra (along with the other occupants of the secret chambers located in the game world: the assassins of Alexander the Great, Xerxes I, Caligula, Qin Shi Huang and Genghis Khan) because of their high profiles and international name recognition. But this is a significant departure from the historical record – although there is no consensus in the surviving ancient sources regarding exactly how Cleopatra died, there is certainly consensus about the fact that she died by her own hand rather than anyone else’s.4 That is not to say that the precise circumstances of her death have not been questioned.5 As recently as 2013, the American criminal profiler Pat Brown suggested, based on no evidence whatsoever, and no expertise in ancient history, but rather her own contemporary professional experience, that Cleopatra was murdered on the orders of Octavian.6 This idea got a lot of press attention internationally and resulted in a book and a documentary, so there is certainly a precedent for the idea of an alternative explanation.7 In this way, eight years before the release of AC Origins, players were primed for the possibility of seeing an innovative and creative treatment of Cleopatra in a future game.

Portraying Cleopatra With that in mind, how is Cleopatra presented in AC Origins? Is her portrayal an innovative and creative one, as the brief references in AC II and its successors had seemed to suggest it would be? AC Origins opens in 49 bce and covers a period of around five years, culminating in the assassination of Caesar in Rome in 44 bce , so over the course of the game Cleopatra goes from around twenty years old to about twenty-five, and from being a queen deposed by her brother and co-ruler’s faction to a queen ruling Egypt alongside a different brother and co-ruler, soon to dispense with him entirely in order to rule Egypt alone, nominally alongside her infant son Ptolemy XV Caesar, more commonly known as Caesarion, ‘Little Caesar’.8 This is an interesting choice for a period of time to focus on: although it is a very eventful period in Cleopatra’s life, encompassing the civil war between her and her brother Ptolemy XIII (and their younger siblings brother Ptolemy XIV and sister Arsinoe, although they do not feature in the game), Cleopatra’s alliance with Caesar, and the birth of their son Caesarion, we know very little about it.9 As far as the Romans recording this period of history were concerned, the civil war between Cleopatra and Ptolemy XIII (or rather, the civil war between Cleopatra and her brother’s advisors Pothinus, Achillas and Theodotus) was only interesting insofar as it played a minor role in the civil war between Caesar and Gnaeus Pompeius Magnus, more commonly known as Pompey the Great. In fact, even Caesar barely mentions Cleopatra in his own writings about his activities in this period (twice in his Civil War, and the Alexandrian War, written contemporaneously by an anonymous author, only mentions her once).10 For the Egyptian perspective, we have no surviving ancient literary sources and are instead 163

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reliant on documentary sources and material culture, such as votive stelae set up in her honour by her subjects and her own building projects.11 Consequently, there is enormous scope for dramatizing the few historical events that are known to have occurred during this period, and re-imagining and fictionalizing everything else. This absence of evidence is promising, as it offers considerable scope for experimentation in both the narrative and the character. Unfortunately, however, these aspects of the game do not always live up to their potential. Cleopatra mainly appears in AC Origins in expository cut-scenes, although there are a few occasions where, playing as Bayek or Aya, you follow her to a specific destination and interact with her, or observe her interacting with other NPCs such as Caesar.12 These take place at a variety of locations within the game world, including Apollodorus’ villa, where she is living during her exile; Memphis; Heraklion; on board a ship; the Royal Palace at Alexandria; Alexander the Great’s tomb at Alexandria; the Serapeum at Alexandria; and, finally, in Caesar’s villa at Rome. Outwith the game, you can also choose to undertake the Discovery Tour and wander the game world with Cleopatra as your avatar, and there is an educational tour specifically dedicated to her. First things first: her appearance. What did the historical Cleopatra look like, and how similar or different is the game Cleopatra to this? No physical descriptions of Cleopatra, if any were ever written in the first place, have survived from antiquity. Individuals who knew her during her lifetime, such as Caesar, do not describe her physical appearance.13 Cicero comments only on what he perceived as her arrogance.14 Plutarch, whose grandfather Lamprias was acquainted with the physician Philotas of Amphissa, who was present in Alexandria at the time, focuses on her intelligence, charisma and people skills, going so far as to state that her beauty was not in her physical appearance, but rather in her personality: For her beauty, as we are told, was in itself not altogether incomparable, nor such as to strike those who saw her; but converse with her had an irresistible charm, and her presence, combined with the persuasiveness of her discourse and the character which was somehow diffused about her behaviour towards others, had something stimulating about it. There was sweetness also in the tones of her voice; and her tongue, like an instrument of many strings, she could readily turn to whatever language she pleased.15 However, later sources such as Cassius Dio do not go into any sort of detail, simply referring to her as ‘beautiful’.16 This is something that television and film adaptations have tended to go along with, as it is easier to demonstrate that a female character is attractive and desirable by casting a beautiful actress to play her than by attempting to write a compelling character (see, for example, probably the most famous on-screen iteration, Elizabeth Taylor in Joseph L. Mankiewicz’s 1963 film Cleopatra, frequently referred to as ‘the most beautiful woman in the world’ in press coverage). In recent years, discussions of Cleopatra’s physical appearance have tended towards surprise that such an

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apparently unattractive woman could have enchanted two such eminent historical figures as Caesar and Antony.17 With the exception of the coins that she issued over the course of her reign that bear her image in conjunction with her name, none of the naturalistic portraits that are proposed to be of her are securely identified, and, in any case, these are little help in attempting to reconstruct her physical appearance as, assuming they do actually depict her, they come in several different styles, depending upon how she was presenting herself, and to whom she was presenting herself. The bronze coins bearing portraits that she issued in Cyprus in the period covered by the game depict her and Caesarion in the guise of Aphrodite and Eros for the benefit of her Greek audience, and Isis and Horus for the benefit of her Egyptian audience.18 At home in Egypt, her Egyptian portraiture was very traditionally Egyptian, in line with that of her predecessors, and Egyptian portraiture in the Hellenistic period tends to be stylized rather than realistic.19 Egyptian portraits can potentially, however, provide information about the way that she dressed, the traditional accoutrements of Egyptian royalty such as the crowns and headdresses, and it is notable that Roman writers describe her dressing as Isis on special occasions.20 Outside Egypt, in other territories controlled by Egypt, or those controlled by the Roman Empire under the supervision of Antony, we see a very different Cleopatra. The only securely identified portraits of her are found on coins, which are potentially more realistic, done in a naturalistic style, and in these she appears with the standard hairstyle, jewellery and dress for an elite woman of the time, but very different from the Egyptian guise.21 There are also some insecurely identified portraits. But there are problems with these, too, as they are all rather different from each other.22 In AC Origins, she is much closer to the Egyptian style than the Graeco-Roman style, even when she is in Rome at the end of the game.23 This is in line with previous portrayals of Cleopatra in film and television, going back to Theda Bara’s portrayal in the film Cleopatra released in 1917, which Lloyd Llewellyn-Jones has noted present her in a manner that is more in keeping with the New Kingdom period in Egyptian history than the Hellenistic one.24 He has suggested that depicting Cleopatra as Egyptian rather than Greek, or Graeco-Roman, was a way of distinguishing her from her Roman peers, as Greek clothing and Roman clothing were too similar for members of the audience to be able to differentiate between them.25 Over the course of AC Origins, we see Cleopatra in four different outfits, and she is undoubtedly dressed in an ‘orientalizing’ way, following on from the nineteenth-century artistic portrayals, and racist and sexist ideas about the exotic East, and undoubtedly influenced by previous portrayals in a range of media – these paintings have informed theatre, TV series, films, music videos, adverts, even photoshoots up to the present day (on orientalism in classical video games as it pertains to the depiction of Carthage and Dido specifically, see Andrew Dufton in this volume).26 Interestingly, her outfits are particularly close to HBO Rome’s Cleopatra, as are certain other aspects of her presentation (for example her use of opium, and her casual cruelty to underlings).27 This is despite the fact that, as Gregory Daugherty observes, the HBO

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Rome presentation of the Ptolemaic court in Alexandria is something of an outlier amongst TV and film recreations: [The show] went to considerable efforts to create an aesthetic look to the court that is a fusion of Macedonian and Egyptian elements, resulting in a style so bizarre that it appears alien and grotesque even to the Romans, and certainly to the viewing audience. None of the cosmetic face-painting or costumes are authentic to the period, but the producers deliberately tried to depict the Ptolemaic court as neither Greek, Roman, nor classical Egyptian but something different, decadent, and dangerous.28 Intriguingly, however, her jewellery and clothing seem to be something of a hybrid, part Egyptian, part Syrian, the latter not entirely inappropriate as members of the Seleucid royal family did marry into the Ptolemaic dynasty (see Figure 11.1). Most

Figure 11.1 Screenshot from Assassin’s Creed: Origins. 166

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pertinently to this discussion, Cleopatra’s older sister Berenike IV married Cybiosactes of Syria but found him so objectionable that she had him strangled within days of their marriage, then married Archelaus of Pontus.29 We can also see the nineteenth-century penchant for orientalizing Cleopatra applied to her supposed descendent Queen Zenobia of Palmyra.30 Considering that the surviving Graeco-Roman literary sources frequently describe Cleopatra as Egyptian rather than Greek (‘the Egyptian’, ‘the Egyptian woman’, ‘the Egyptian queen’, etc.), it is not so surprising that contemporary portrayals would take this rather literally (it also facilitates their consumers in their differentiation and identification of her).31 Notably, considering recent debates over Cleopatra’s ethnicity, in AC Origins she is ethnically indeterminate, and considering the fact that the game presents Hellenistic Egypt as extremely ethnically diverse throughout, making a point of including Egyptian, Greek, and Roman NPCs and differentiating between them not only in appearance but also accent and language, this is something of a missed opportunity.32 Were Ubisoft sitting on the fence while attempting to avoid controversy?33 Moving on to Cleopatra’s behaviour, throughout the game she self-identifies as Egyptian: she refers to herself as ‘Pharaoh’ (although some other characters refer to her as ‘Queen’), she states that she is Egypt, that she is a living goddess (presumably Isis is intended here) and shows concern for the Apis Bull.34 She uses Egyptians like Bayek and Aya to accomplish her goals in preference to Greeks (such as her brother’s advisors). In these ways, she is certainly differentiated from the Greeks and the Romans around her. Our first sighting of her is, appropriately enough, at a banquet at the villa belonging to Apollodorus, as many Roman sources present her as an enthusiastic partier.35 According to Plutarch, she and Antony formed a drinking society, The Inimitable Livers, later The Partners in Death.36 Interestingly enough, once Bayek arrives she is all business, leaving the party to go into her war room and strategize with him – should we infer that her previous demeanour was an act? Ancient sources do tell us that she liked to play-act and was in the habit of setting up elaborate scenarios in order to gain the upper hand over men, and she seems to have been particularly successful at doing so with Antony.37 Perhaps unsurprisingly, AC Origins’ Cleopatra is a highly sexualized Cleopatra (somewhat akin to the goddess Aphrodite in God of War III, see Olivia Ciaccia, this volume). As observed by Daugherty, ‘although the emphasis on the predatory sexuality of Cleopatra is not new to the big or the small screen, it has become the clearly dominant motif in other popular culture receptions’.38 As discussed above, her clothing is very revealing, clearly designed with titillation in mind. From her very first line, she is indiscriminately promiscuous, offering herself to anyone on the condition that they agree to be killed in the morning.39 This apocryphal story is the premise of the 1917 Russian Ballet performance, and the costume that the dancer playing Cleopatra wears for this performance is very similar to the outfit that Cleopatra wears for her first appearance in AC Origins, and as the player’s avatar in the Discovery Tour.40 She flirts with the sailors on the ship, and with Caesar, offering the latter ‘true marriage’ – presumably we are meant to infer this consists of a marriage that includes sex, unlike her 167

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marriage with her much younger brother. Yet, while later Roman propaganda certainly played up her sexuality, with one author claiming that she slept with her slaves, it is probable that she only had relationships with Caesar and Antony.41 And while these were not recognized as legal marriages in the eyes of Romans, they likely were in Egypt.42 However, there are some positive aspects to her portrayal. She is intelligent and educated, conversing easily with Caesar about Greek and Latin literature as represented by Plato and Catullus.43 She is able to manipulate Caesar, using Alexander the Great’s tomb as an inducement, and Plutarch tells us that she did similar things with Antony, and attempted to do similar things with Octavian, although he proved to be more than a match for her.44 She is a political animal, allying herself expediently, first with Apollodorus, then Bayek and Aya, then Pompey, then Caesar, then finally the Order of the Ancients. More ambiguous is the fact that she is merciless in her dealings with her enemies. She orders the twin priestesses responsible for poisoning the Apis Bull be boiled inside a bronze bull.45 She orders Aya to assassinate her brother Ptolemy XIII; while this is a departure from the historical record, which records Ptolemy drowning in the Nile during his army’s retreat from battle, it does present the opportunity for the inclusion of an historical Easter egg in the form of Cleopatra ordering Aya to ‘Make it so.’46 Notably, Cleopatra is an antagonist. Despite AC Origins’ presentation of most of the well-known Romans of this period as villains in league with the enemies of Bayek, Aya, and their fledgling brotherhood of assassins, the game leans into the Roman presentation of Cleopatra, which is based on the propaganda disseminated by Octavian, Caesar’s adopted son and heir who would later become the first emperor Augustus, in an attempt to retroactively legitimize his civil war with Antony.47 Cleopatra, as a foreign female monarch, three things that the Romans simply could not abide due to a combination of xenophobia, sexism and republicanism, was both anathema and a convenient scapegoat. So, all of her positive qualities were supressed, forgotten, her negative ones promoted, exaggerated, and this has remained the case for two thousand years.48 While there are some positive aspects to Ubisoft’s portrayal of Cleopatra (e.g. her intelligence, education and political skill, three qualities that are frequently ignored in dramatizations), considering what could have done with the character, the choices made are somewhat disappointing, embracing two thousand years’ worth of racist and sexist stereotypes.49 In contemporary terminology: misogynoir. Admittedly, it is considerably less offensive that the portrayal of Cleopatra in the game Dante’s Inferno, an action-adventure video game recreation of the famous Italian epic poem, very similar to the early games in the God of War franchise, developed by Visceral Games and published by Electronic Arts, released in 2010.50 It sees Cleopatra and Antony, having been condemned to the second circle of Hell, having struck a deal with Lucifer and ruling the circle in exchange for their loyalty. You play as Dante, who, guided by the spirit of the Roman poet Virgil, arrives in the circle in pursuit of his love Beatrice. Cleopatra, endowed with magic powers, summons the Carnal Tower and the Lust Storm.51 Dante climbs the Tower, reaches the top, Cleopatra summons Antony (she stores him inside her body, he comes out through her mouth) and assists him with magic, Dante slays Antony, Cleopatra mourns him, tries to seduce Dante, and Dante stabs her 168

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through the heart. This portrayal of Cleopatra is even more highly sexualized than the one in AC Origins, presenting her as naked apart from her headdress (which is remarkably similar to the one AC Origins’ Cleopatra wears for the majority of the game and as the avatar) and jewellery, and birthing knife-wielding unbaptized babies from her nipples. But saying that AC Origins’ presentation of Cleopatra is better than this is setting the bar extremely low. Clearly, Ubisoft is not using AC Origins to educate or re-educate gamers about Cleopatra. But should we expect it to? It is, after all, a video game, a piece of entertainment rather than of education. Yet one of the hallmarks of the Assassin’s Creed series has always been its involvement of historians and archaeologists in order to undertake faithful recreations of historical locations (particularly notable here is how the digital recreation of Notre Dame in Assassin’s Creed: Unity: has been presented as a possible aid for reconstructing the cathedral in the wake of 2019’s devastating fire).52 The marketing of AC Origins in advance of the game’s release certainly emphasized the historical and archaeological research that had gone into the game.53 The ultimate extension of this has been the introduction of the Discovery Tour mode, which has now been included in the three most recent instalments in the franchise, AC Origins, AC Odyssey and AC Valhalla.54 Schools, colleges and universities are being encouraged to use it as a learning experience. The tag line in AC Origins is ‘explore this virtual museum mode, with guided tours and historical locations, set in a combat and quest free environment’. Its content was apparently curated by Egyptologists and was four years in development, so I think it is reasonable to assume that it would be accurate. One of its featurettes is devoted to Cleopatra and provides a brief overview of her life that generally accords with the interpretation presented in AC Origins, although there are a lot of factual inaccuracies (the objects used are not securely identified as Cleopatra; her father’s name is incorrect, it was Auletes, ‘flute-player’, not Aulos, ‘flute’; she did not meet Caesar in a carpet; whether Caesar wanted to or not, he could not make Caesarion his heir because he was not Roman; Antony wanted money to fight his Parthian campaign, not Octavian; she did not die by arsenic poisoning). So, why go to all the trouble of undertaking extensive historical and archaeological research in conjunction with internationally renowned Egyptologists, creating a complex and engaging narrative, and then resort to the same old racist and sexist clichés regarding the character of Cleopatra? Perhaps because audiences expect certain things from that character, the issue of ‘authenticity’ rather than ‘accuracy’.55 Past attempts to deviate from the cliché have met with resistance, such as the portrayal of Cleopatra in HBO’s Rome, or the proposed film adaptation of Stacey Schiff ’s Cleopatra, starring Angelina Jolie, which had hoped to present Cleopatra as a political animal rather than a sex kitten.56 Significantly, this difficulty people have with reconciling what they believe to be historically accurate and what actually is historically accurate seems to be particularly common with regard to the role of women in historical games (see Kate Cook and Jane Draycott, this volume; Jordy D. Orellana Figueroa, this volume).57 So, is the racist and sexist portrayal of Cleopatra in AC Origins a pre-emptive attempt to appease racist and sexist players, so-called ‘gamers’, and anyone else who has an axe to 169

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grind? That is certainly one possibility, and one that is rather damning of Ubisoft if that is, in fact, the case. Yet, it is not beyond the realms of plausibility: in the summer of 2020, the studio was hit by a wave of sexual harassment and sexual assault scandals, which led to an exodus of senior staff, and accusations of a sexist, homophobic, transphobic and racist working environment. An internal survey of staff has since revealed that a quarter of the company’s 14,000 staff have witnessed some form of professional misconduct during the last two years, with female and non-binary employees more likely to experience abuse than male ones, and one in five employees said that they did not feel fully respected or safe in the work environment.58 It is worth noting that currently only 22 per cent of Ubisoft’s staff are female, with the company aiming to increase this to 24 per cent by 2023. Yet, is there an alternative explanation? I think there may well be. Let us consider the character of Aya, later Amunet (see Figure 11.2). How might she factor into this discussion? According to her character information, she is half-Greek, half-Egyptian and the daughter of scholars who was, in turn, educated at the Library of Alexandria in ancient history, philosophy, mathematics and languages.59 She was a devoted wife and mother before her separation from Bayek following the death of their son Khemu, after which she devoted herself to Egypt. She is politically engaged, far more so than Bayek, who becomes involved with Cleopatra’s faction because of her involvement with it, and because he believes that it will further his quest for vengeance. She is a good sailor, well-

Figure 11.2 Screenshot from Assassin’s Creed: Origins. 170

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versed in hand-to-hand combat and assassination, including the use of poisons. Despite what we have been led to believe since AC II, in the spin-off AC Origins comic, she does not actually assassinate Cleopatra, but rather gives her the poison that she uses to take her own life.60 She is the co-founder of the organization upon which the entire AC franchise depends, and it is unsurprising that in-game a myth grows up around her, perpetuated over centuries by the Hidden Ones and the Brotherhood of Assassins, which neatly ties in with the ambiguity surrounding the historical Cleopatra’s death. There is a considerable amount of overlap between the historical Cleopatra and the fictional Aya – her dual heritage and identity, her education, her spousal and maternal devotion, her concern for the kingdom of Egypt and its survival in the face of Roman expansion, her political skill, her involvement in naval and land battles, her knowledge of poisons. Ultimately, again going by the AC Origins comic, she takes Caesarion under her wing and has him join the Hidden Ones, thereby stepping in as his surrogate mother/ mentor. So, perhaps the reason that Cleopatra is presented the way she is, is because her many historically attested positive qualities have been transferred to Aya.

Conclusion In this chapter, I have discussed the way in which Cleopatra is portrayed in AC Origins and, to a lesser extent, in Dante’s Inferno, and observed that while there are some historical accuracies in these portrayals (or at least nods to information contained in the ancient literary sources which we should acknowledge were not written by individuals welldisposed towards her, and the ancient documentary sources which are more open to interpretation), it is clear that more attention was paid to the historical authenticity of her portrayals in both of these games. As a result, the Cleopatra that the player sees in AC Origins is, for the most part, the one that the player expects to see, a result of them having been conditioned by 2,000 years of depictions based predominantly on ancient Roman propaganda. However, what we lose in the portrayal of Cleopatra, we gain in the portrayal of Aya/Amunet. Aya, as an entirely fictional character created especially for AC Origins, is not bound by the same concerns over historical accuracy and historical authenticity that constrain Cleopatra, as not only an historical figure but also a heavily mythologized one. Thus, it can be said that the pair complement each other.

Notes 1. See: https://www.ubisoft.com/en-gb/game/assassins-creed-origins/ (accessed June 2020). 2. See: https://assassinscreed.fandom.com/wiki/Amunet (accessed June 2020). 3. See: https://assassinscreed.fandom.com/wiki/Cleopatra (accessed June 2020). 4. Strabo, c. 18–23 ce : asp, poisonous ointment; Velleius Paterculus, c. 30 ce : asp; Plutarch, c. 110–115 ce : uncertain – asp, poison in a hairpin; Florus, c. 2 ce : snakes; Suetonius, circa 119–121 ce : asp; Cassius Dio, c. 202 ce : uncertain – asp, hairpin; Galen, c. 200 ce : asp. As an

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Women in Classical Video Games additional point of interest, most ancient sources include the detail that her two handmaids Eiras and Charmian died with her. 5. For some of the debates surrounding the subject, see Skeat (1953), Baldwin (1964), Griffiths (1961, 1965), Tronson (1998), Retief and Cilliers (2005), Kostuch (2009) and Gurval (2011). 6. Brown (2013). 7. Production on AC Origins began in early 2014. 8. Peek (2008). 9. On Cleopatra’s father’s relationship with the Romans during his reign, which lead to Roman interference in the civil war between Cleopatra and Ptolemy XIII, see Siani-Davies (1997). The fact that ‘there is still a lot of mystery surrounding this time’ was one of the reasons given for the choice of the Ptolemaic setting, Poiron (2021: 80). 10. See Caesar, Civil War 3.103.2, 3.107.2; Caesar, Alexandrian War 33. 11. The Buchis Stela from Hermonthis, currently housed in the New Carlsberg Glyptotek in Copenhagen, published in Mond and Myers (1934: 11–13 n. 13 [51 bce ]); the Onnophris Stela from the Fayum, currently housed in the Musée du Louvre in Paris, inv. E 27113 (51 bce ); the Apis Stela from Memphis (49 bce ); the temple Cleopatra built at Hermonthis to celebrate Caesarion’s birth (47 bce ). 12. For discussion of Cleopatra’s interactions with Caesar in AC Origins, see Bondoli, TexeiraBastos and Carneiro (2019). 13. Caesar, Civil War 3.103.2, 3.107.2; Caesar, Alexandrian War 33. 14. Cicero, Letters to Atticus 393 (XV.15). 15. Plutarch, Antony 27.1–3 (trans. B. Perrin). However, see also Plutarch, Antony 83.1–2. 16. Cassius Dio, Roman History 42.34.5. 17. See, for example, Blaise Pascal’s aphorism, ‘The nose of Cleopatra: had it been shorter, the face of the entire world would have been changed.’ See also Armstrong (2007). 18. See British Museum inv. 1844,0425.99 for an example. 19. See, for example, the relief of Cleopatra and Caesarion sacrificing on the wall of the Temple of Hathor at Denderah to the divine mother/son pairs Hathor/Harsomtus and Isis/Horus. Ashton (2008) and Bianchi (2003). 20. See, for example, Plutarch, Antony 54.6. 21. Williams (2003). 22. Higgs (2003), Higgs and Walker (2003) and Johansen (2003). 23. Hamer (1993: 5–18) and Ashton (2008). 24. Llewellyn-Jones (2013). 25. Ibid., 328. 26. For extensive discussion of the reception of Cleopatra, see Hughes-Hallett (1991). For discussion of the depiction of Cleopatra in the nineteenth-century paintings of Sir Lawrence Alma-Tadema, see Smith (2011). 27. Daugherty (2008; and 2015: 18–19). 28. Ibid. (2008: 144). 29. Strabo, Geography 17.1.11; see also Cassius Dio, Roman History 39.13. 30. For Zenobia’s claim to descend from Cleopatra, see numerous references in the Historia Augusta: Thirty Tyrants 27, 30, 32; Aurelian 27; Claudius 1; Probus 9.5. See, for example, Sir

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Playing Cleopatra Edward John Poynter’s ‘Zenobia Captive’ (1878) and Herbert Gustave Schmalz-Carmichael’s ‘Queen Zenobia’s Last Look Upon Palmyra’ (1888). 31. See, for example, Strabo, Geography 13.1.30; Florus 2.21.1–3. 32. On this diversity, see Banker (2020). 33. For controversy over Cleopatra’s ethnicity, see Haley (1993), Lefkowitz (1996) and Lefkowitz and Rogers (1996). 34. For Cleopatra’s identification with Isis, see Plutarch, Antony 54.5–9. Even when Roman authors do not explicitly name her as Isis, they include the goddess’ paraphernalia in their discussions of her such as the sistrum, see Virgil, Aeneid 8; Propertius, Elegy 3.11; see also the aforementioned Buchis Stele, n. 11. For Cleopatra’s patronage of the Apis Bull, see the aforementioned Apis Stele, n. 11. 35. See, for example, Lucan, Civil War 10. 107–92; Plutarch, Antony 28–9, 71. Tucker (1975). 36. Plutarch, Antony 28; see also Horace, Odes 1.37. Amethyst ring = Greek Anthology, Gutzwiller (1996). Drugs = Scarborough (2012). 37. Antony’s unsuccessful fishing expedition = Plutarch, Antony 29. Antony and Cleopatra’s pearl wager = Pliny the Elder, Natural History 9.119–21; see also Ullman (1957), Flory (1993) and Jones (2010). 38. Daugherty (2008: 149). 39. Sextus Aurelius Victor, On the Caesars 86.2; taken up by Pushkin, 1825, and then the Russian Ballet, 1917. Potentially stock invective weaponized against female rulers as Diodorus Siculus relates virtually the same anecdote about the Babylonian queen Semiramis, although, in her case, she chooses her partners from among the most handsome of her soldiers, Historical Library 2.13.4. 40. For discussion of this costume, see Bellow (2009). This is despite the decision made by Ubisoft to censor the nudity of ancient statues in the Discovery Tour so as to make it suitable for children ‘in classrooms around the world, potentially in countries where nudity might be offensive’, Poiron (2021: 83). 41. Sex with slaves = Propertius, Elegies 3.11.29–56. Sex as diplomacy = Josephus, Jewish Antiquities 15.96. 42. Johnson (1978), Huzar (1985) and Ager (2013). 43. Cleopatra’s education was undoubtedly facilitated by her access to the Museion and Library at Alexandria; according to Cicero, she made literary promises to him, perhaps some books from the Museion and Library, but when these failed to materialize he was rather annoyed = Letters to Atticus 15.15.2. She was also believed to be the author of numerous scientific treatises on cosmetics, gynaecology and alchemy in antiquity; El-Daly (2004). 44. Plutarch, Antony 83 and Cassius Dio, Roman History 51.12. 45. There is documentary evidence for the twin priestesses Tages and Taous from an earlier point in Hellenistic history, and literary evidence for the method that she decrees for their execution being used by Phaleris, tyrant of Akragas in Sicily = Diodorus Siculus, Historical Library 9.18–19. 46. For Ptolemy XIII drowning in the Nile, see Florus, Epitome of Roman History 2.13.60. Cleopatra saying ‘Make it so’ here clearly corresponds to what has been identified as her signature on a royal decree dating to 33 bce = Papyrus Berlin 25.239; for identification and discussion, see Van Minnen (2000, 2003). 47. For discussion of the Roman propaganda of this period, see Scott (1933).

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Women in Classical Video Games 48. For discussion of Cleopatra’s own propaganda, see Hughes-Hallett (1991: 14–15), Rice (1999: 2–3), Foreman (1999: 27) and Wyke (2013: 74–5). 49. On the initial Roman reception of Cleopatra, see Wyke (2002: 195–243). 50. See https://www.ea.com/games/dantes-inferno?isLocalized=true (accessed October 2020). A playthrough of the section featuring Cleopatra can be found on YouTube at: https://youtu.be/ UscmbvGLACA (accessed October 2020). 51. The association of Cleopatra with magic can be found in some ancient sources such as Plutarch, Antony 37, part of the Roman stereotype of women controlling men using magic, Stratton (2007: 104). 52. See: https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/technology-47963835 (accessed June 2020). 53. See Nielsen (2017). 54. See: https://www.ubisoft.com/en-gb/game/assassins-creed/discovery-tour (accessed October 2020). Ubisoft’s website presents the Discovery Tour as ‘a dedicated game that lets visitors freely roam Ancient Greece and Ancient Egypt to learn more about their history and daily life. Students, teachers, non-gamers, and dedicated players can discover these eras at their own pace, or embark on guided tours curated by historians and experts.’ 55. Lozano (2020: 54–6). 56. Daugherty (2008, 2015). 57. Beavers (2020b). 58. See Gartenberg (2020). 59. See: https://assassinscreed.fandom.com/wiki/Amunet (accessed June 2020). 60. See: https://assassinscreed.fandom.com/wiki/Assassin%27s_Creed:_Origins_(comic) (accessed June 2020).

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CHAPTER 12 PLAYING SALAMMB Ô : ORIENTALISM, GENDER AND GAMING WITH THE PUNIC WORLD Andrew Dufton

Introduction ‘I, Dido, Queen and mother of Carthage, greet you on behalf of the Phoenicians.’ A woman welcomes me in spoken Phoenician, dressed in a sleeveless, belted chiton of deep Tyrian purple, tight dark curls held up and back by a single band, and wearing an elaborate array of chunky, golden jewellery (Figure 12.1). In the background is the prow of a ship, with a second tucked behind, entering into a natural harbour. Thus are players of the popular turn-based strategy game Civilization VI introduced to the figure of Dido, mythical founder of Carthage and potential ally or antagonist in the quest for victory. Images of the Punic world, and especially Punic women such as Dido, are hardly a new phenomenon. From the Romans onwards, a handful of historical figures have dominated representations of Punic Carthage and – aside from the obvious exception of the general Hannibal Barca and his African elephants crossing the Alps – the most

Figure 12.1 An initial meeting with Dido in Civilization VI. 175

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frequently invoked Punic individuals tend to be women. It is no surprise, therefore, that as game developers look to increase the number of female protagonists in ancient settings, they often turn to Carthaginian women for inspiration. Why and how these characters are invoked, however, rarely registers for players, and the representation of Punic women in gaming is given little attention within the wider scholarship on the Phoenician world. This paper places the current trend toward female Phoenician or Punic player characters firmly within a longer history of reimagining the Punic Mediterranean. Questions of orientalism, Classicism, and gender have often structured the way Phoenician materials are reinterpreted, and the realm of videogames is no exception. I consider both games relying on a pretense of historical accuracy (the Civilization franchise) and those drawing from sensational fictional accounts (Salammbô: Battle for Carthage) to analyse how Punic women are characterized and the impact of these representations on player interactions. Both sets of games ultimately rely on common historical, archaeological and literary perceptions of the Phoenicians to structure their content. If videogames are to take up the mantle of popular representation of the Punic past, we must interrogate how these recurring tropes reinforce earlier receptions and continue to distance Carthage from the more traditional Greek and Roman narratives of the ancient Mediterranean.

The reception of the Punic world The current study follows a growing interest in the reception of the Phoenician and Punic Mediterranean.1 Recent scholarship has considered, for example, the uses of the Phoenician or Punic past in the development of modern identities in Sardinia, Tunisia and Lebanon, as well as the place of the Phoenician world and Carthage in the Western imagination more broadly.2 Quinn goes so far as to suggest that the Phoenicians as we know them, as a cohesive people or civilization, did not exist at all until the reception of Punic materials in later periods – first, by the Greeks and Romans in antiquity, followed by the subsequent reinterpretation and appropriation of Phoenician and Punic culture by nationalist movements.3 We cannot properly understand the portrayal of Punic women in videogames, therefore, unless we situate these twenty-first-century developments within a much longer history of the Phoenician and Punic world and its reception. Orientalism and gender emerge as two central themes that have structured both which materials or historical figures feature most heavily and how these objects, sites and people are represented. Orientalism and gender Images of ancient Carthage have been more involved in the discourse at the heart of postcolonial studies than one might expect. A discussion of the literary depiction of Carthage (and Carthaginian women) features in Edward Said’s Orientalism (1978), a 176

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foundational text that has shaped how we understand the creation and repetition of a fictional, idealized East in the Western imagination.4 In the most basic terms, Said’s orientalism refers to an ideological formation of non-Western culture – as lazy, untrustworthy, overtly sexual, dangerous, ‘other’ – that was created by Europeans in support of colonial rule and perpetuated through a system of representations of the East in literature, art and history.5 This othering has long been an integral feature in how historians, art historians and archaeologists have understood the Punic world. The first attempts at identifying ‘Phoenician’ culture justified the classification not on any known connection to the peoples of the Levant but rather based on the notable differences of certain monuments or materials from the more established cultures of the Greeks, Egyptians or Assyrians.6 Since these early disciplinary beginnings, our knowledge has often followed the example of the primary texts to keep the Phoenicians neatly compartmentalized, a onedimensional people closely connected to commercial prowess and the maritime economy. An inherent Classicism in ancient Mediterranean studies that has treated the Phoenician and Punic world not as central to Mediterranean history but rather as a peripheral and, often, ephemeral presence further compounds this simplified narrative in the modern scholarship.7 As a result, early Phoenician exploration is often described solely in terms of its commercial nature – in direct contrast to the civilizing mission of the Greeks and effectively erasing the many similarities between Greek and Phoenician colonization efforts.8 The reception of the Punic world is further defined by acrimonious debate surrounding ritual practices, specifically the nature of the sanctuary known as the tophet. Sanctuaries containing cremated remains of infants and animals have been excavated across the central Mediterranean and, most famously, at Carthage itself. Archaeologists almost immediately connected these sites to historical mentions of infant sacrifice practiced by the Carthaginians, and thus named the sanctuaries tophets after a comparable location of ritual noted in the Hebrew Bible. The extent to which these spaces can be directly associated with ritual infant sacrifice is still in question; there are strong differences in scholarly interpretation on the perceived motives of ancient authors describing the rites, on the nature of the archaeological remains and on the associated epigraphic and iconographic corpus.9 Regardless, the prominence given to this question of sacrifice and the savagery of Punic ritual, combined with the focus on commerce and the Phoenician trader, has clearly been created by – and, in turn, perpetuated – an orientalist other that shares many characteristics with images of the non-European in much later periods. The Phoenician and Punic world as it exists in the Western imagination has long been engaged in greed, sacrificial infanticide and overall depravity that scholars are only recently beginning to deconstruct.10 Gender plays an additional role in shaping these perceptions. The contrast between Western and non-Western women – especially regarding the open sexuality of the latter – is a central tool of orientalist discourse. The sexual promiscuity of Phoenician women has often been highlighted by both ancient and modern authors, particularly a connection between sexuality and ritual.11 This issue is compounded by the fact that many of the 177

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most prominent historical figures from the Phoenician and Punic past carried into the literature or art of later periods were women; the way these women are presented further reinforces many of the orientalist tropes outlined here. Dido and Salammbô A few women warrant specific discussion. The first is Dido (also known as Elissa), mythical founder of the city of Carthage.12 Two distinct stories of Dido are known from primary texts. The first, and likely more accurate, account is that of the Gallo-Roman historian Pompeius Trogus within his Philippic Histories; this first-century bce text is known only from a later summary (c. second century ce ) provided by the writer Justin.13 In this version of events, the queen Dido flees the city of Tyre after the murder of her husband Acerbas (head priest of the temple of Melqart) by her brother, the king Pygmalion. Dido must use her considerable wits first to escape the city with the wealth of the temple, then to collect a number of sacred prostitutes from the island of Cyprus to form part of the founding population, and finally to secure land on the North African coast by famously cutting a hide into strips to encircle a greater area than promised by the indigenous population. Dido ultimately chooses to take her own life rather than be forced to marry the local king Hiarbas, throwing herself on a funeral pyre to preserve her honour and the memory of her husband. In a second, more well-known version of the story by the Roman poet Virgil, Dido founds Carthage under similar terms but in the early years of the city she encounters, and falls in love with, the hero Aeneas.14 Aeneas, fleeing from the destruction of the fall of Troy, ultimately decides to abandon Dido and continue to the Italian peninsula where he founds the city of Alba Longa – a site that eventually contributes to the founding of Rome. Dido, heartbroken at the betrayal, impales herself on a sword gifted by Aeneas and sets herself alight on a funeral pyre, as the ships of Aeneas retreat from the coast.15 Reception of Dido has been shaped largely by this second account provided by Virgil, and the tragic picture of Dido longing for a lost love has inspired numerous operas and artistic works.16 In the North African cultural sphere, she holds yet a different meaning, as the ruler Elissa is celebrated for her loyalty to her murdered husband, for her chastity and for her resistance.17 A second notable female also bears mention at the confluence of the parallel influences of orientalism and gender in Phoenician reception. The titular character of Gustav Flaubert’s best-selling historical novel Salammbô (1862) continues to hold an outsized influence on popular imaginings of Carthage, over 150 years since the work’s initial publication.18 Flaubert, better known for his account of French rural life in Madame Bovary (1856), presents in Salammbô a stylized and evocative take on the city of Carthage during the Mercenary War (242–238 bce ). The plot follows the events of the conflict between Carthaginian forces and rebellious mercenaries, drawing rough inspiration from the historical account of Polybius’ Histories but adding lavish flourishes that greatly increase the fantastical nature of the narrative.19 The fictional Salammbô holds a central role. A priestess at the temple of Tanit and daughter of the (historical) general Hamilcar 178

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Barca, Salammbô becomes sexually entangled with the mercenary leader Matho (also a historical figure) after the latter breaks into the temple to steal the sacred veil of the goddess (the zaïmph). This connection ultimately leads to her demise, as Salammbô dies at the exact moment that Matho is executed by the Carthaginians in the novel’s final passages – again, we see the centrality of romantic tragedy in the portrayals of Punic women. Beyond tragedy, however, Salammbô presents numerous over-the-top tropes that explain both why the work was addressed by Said and why it has featured so heavily in subsequent explorations of orientalist discourse and the ancient past. In a suggestive scene in chapter 10, Salammbô dances naked with a large snake that wraps around her waist and between her legs, a not particularly subtle evocation of the dangerous sexuality of the East that would have been even more shocking at the time the work was written. Both the Carthaginians and the mercenaries are particularly savage in their military strategy throughout the conflict to an extent that distances the events from more ‘civilised’ practices of violence.20 Most memorably, in chapter 13, Flaubert depicts a writhing crowd of unhinged Carthaginians chanting and tossing the infants of the city into a giant pit of flames inside a colossal brass statue to the god Moloch (i.e. the Carthaginian deity Baal Hammon). Flaubert was creating a deliberately provocative and orientalist world. That this work was produced in the same period as the early stages of French colonization of North Africa only makes the othering of Carthage vis-à-vis the Classical (European) past all the more striking. Moreover, this work carried an important cultural impact, with its orientalist themes reproduced repeatedly in art, opera, and film.21 How, then, does this history of Punic reception interact with the representation of the Punic world and specifically Punic women in the games? In the following discussion, I focus on examples of both games striving for historical accuracy (the Civilization franchise) and those relying on Punic Carthage as a backdrop for orientalist fantasy (Salammbô: Battle for Carthage). In each case, there is a clear connection to the questions of orientalism and gender that have structured much interaction with Punic materials in other media.

Historical realism: The Civilization franchise Since its initial release in 1991, the Civilization franchise has dominated the field of turnbased, historical strategy games, and the release of the latest iteration, Civilization VI (Civ6), only consolidated this dominance. Firaxis, the company currently developing the franchise, announced in August 2019 that the latest version is the fastest selling ever and had recorded 5.5 million sales.22 The game also regularly features in industry lists and awards, including two wins from five nominations at the British Academy Games Awards hosted by the British Academy of Film and Television Arts. Gameplay mechanics have evolved considerably across the various releases. In basic terms, the player selects a civilization – including both ancient options such as the Romans, Nubians, or Qin Dynasty and modern powers like America, the Republic of 179

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India or the union of Gran Colombia – controlled by a historically relevant leader. In the earliest versions the number of options was reasonably slim and the choice of civilization had little impact on gameplay. Subsequent releases, however, have featured a growing diversity of playable leaders, each with distinct personalities and cultural traits that encourage different styles of play and fill different roles as competition. Beginning with ‘the dawn of civilization’, usually a fixed point at 4000 bce , play moves forward chronologically from the first permanent settlement through to the mid-twenty-first century. Precise parameters or conditions for victory change across the different releases but usually include territorial expansion or military conquest, scientific discovery, or exerting a degree of diplomatic, cultural or religious domination.23 One of the key strengths of the Civilization franchise, and likely one of the reasons for its enduring popularity, is the attention to historical detail and a widespread perception of authenticity amongst its players.24 This historical specificity also means the game has featured frequently in discussions on the role of gaming in classroom pedagogy or as a form of meaningful historical engagement.25 However, Civilization has also been rightly criticized for a heavy Western focus and the teleological development of ‘civilization’ that forms the game’s core concept. While the latest release has been commended for a more balanced representation of leaders and non-European natural and built developments,26 concerns over the centrality of colonial narratives of exploitation and conquest remain.27 Even the inclusion of non-Western characters and – by extension – non-Western histories into the explicitly colonial framework of the game can be seen as a form of coopting non-colonial societies into an imperialist paradigm.28 Rather than encourage players to explore underrepresented historical peoples, this in effect silences the subaltern voices that should be at the heart of attempts to decolonize history curricula. These issues are not unique to Civilization; Mukherjee has observed that alternative narratives in videogames are only possible ‘within the system that the game provides’; whether players choose to or not, in many games they are actively engaging with and reinforcing colonialism and orientalist discourses.29 Civilization and the Punic world Critiques of the overtly colonial nature and Western lens of the Civilization franchise are entirely valid. However, the question of how Civilization engages with non-Western material is what makes the reception of the Punic world within the historical confines of the game an interesting avenue for analysis. Carthage first appears as a playable option or opponent in Civilization II (as either Dido or Hannibal) and later versions usually continued to allow for play as Carthage – in each case under the leadership of Hannibal. It is not until the Gods and Kings expansion of Civilization V (Civ5) – released in June 2012 – that Dido makes her first solo appearance as a playable character. She reigns as leader of the Carthaginians, with units appropriately distinguished by elephant icons in Tyrian purple, a grant of free harbours in all coastal cities, and a special ability for military troops to cross mountains that is clearly inspired by the events of the Second Punic War.30 When encountering Dido as an opponent, her avatar appears at night – wearing a 180

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long, belted robe with hair covered by a veil – on an open terrace overlooking the sea.31 The AI is characterized by a focus on naval units, maritime connectivity and a likeliness to be deceptive in her quest for military or diplomatic victory.32 Dido did not return as one of the original leaders in the most recent release (Civ6). She was later added as a character option representing not the Carthaginians but the Phoenicians as part of the second major expansion pack, released in February 2019. To explore the parameters of gameplay as Dido for this discussion, I focused on this version of Dido in the latest Civilization offering, Civilization VI: Gathering Storm. Playing Dido From the first moments of gameplay as Dido, the influence of the ancient sources on the game design is clear. ‘Queen Dido, Mother of Carthage, all your life you faced great threats and overcame them through wit and cunning’ exclaims the narration as the game loads and I await my fate (emphasis added). I read briefly about Dido’s special features and abilities as the narration continues and an orchestral theme swells. ‘The seas are your roads, the far horizon is your destiny and your refuge.’ In Civ6, each leader is provided with unique bonuses roughly associated with either their personal biography or that of their civilization. These can include special military units, buildings or urban districts, resource bonuses, or other perks that steer the player into adopting a certain strategy that aligns with the history of the civilization in question. As is the case with all leaders, Dido’s civilization-specific characteristics heavily structure gameplay as this character. Her ‘Founder of Carthage’ ability allows the Phoenicians to shift capitals to various cities across the diaspora and grants additional trading capacities. Dido’s second ability, ‘Mediterranean colonies’, secures the loyalty of coastal cities and provides additional movement for settlers moving across bodies of water.33 Phoenicia’s unique unit, the bireme, and specialty city district, the cothon, are clearly inspired both by historical accounts of the maritime capacity of the Phoenicians and excavated archaeological remains.34 In each playthrough as Dido, these historical traits did affect my choices somewhat but not nearly as much as other game mechanics, suggesting that attempts by the developers to accurately portray Dido and mould a unique experience of play as Phoenicia were only moderately successful. The civilization’s characteristics did encourage the spread of cities overseas, and this facilitated a play style with a heavy focus on commerce (thanks to the extra trade capacity associated with the ‘Founder of Carthage’ trait). The option to easily move across bodies of water also consistently helped to maintain good diplomatic relations with opponents, who were less threatened by the addition of Phoenician colonies dispersed across a large geographic area. This overseas gameplay meant that, as Dido, I often struggled to exert effective territorial control, which, in turn, impeded the spread of Phoenician religion and culture. Yet, considerations completely unrelated to the choice of Dido as leader were much more important in dictating gameplay. Geography, the availability of resources, the proximity of opponents and personal preference all featured more heavily than any perceived attempts at 181

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historical accuracy or Punic cultural specificity. Dido’s gender was a complete non-factor and made no meaningful difference to the choices available to me as player, nor to the ways in which AI opponents interacted with my civilization. Playing against Dido If the overall impression of playing as Dido is one of indifference to both her gender and her heritage, playing against Dido offers a different experience of her personality and wider Phoenician culture. Across the Civilization franchise, players regularly see leaders from a new light when they are acting as protagonists rather than player characters. It is only when encountering Phoenicia as an adversary that the player can meaningfully interact with the AI and observe the depictions of Dido – her speech and dress, her motivations and her personality. I encountered the welcoming image of Dido that opens this chapter (Figure 12.1) in games I had configured specifically to ensure Phoenicia as a rival. In most cases I was visited a few turns after this first meeting by a Phoenician delegation with gifts of ‘murex purple, Lebanon cedar, and olives’. My first impressions of this representation are, thankfully, that it avoids many of the most obvious and outrageous orientalist tropes. Dido’s dress, styling, and posture are understated. The direct inspiration for the character’s likeness are not immediately apparent but broad similarities are noted between her jewellery and excavated Phoenician materials as well as her wreathed hairstyle and the frequent image of the goddess Tanit on coins minted in Carthage from the late fourth century until the mid-second century bce .35 This latest iteration of the character also thankfully avoids, for the most part, the mystical romanticism, extremely pale complexion and moonlit setting of the character in Civ5 and moves towards a more realistic skin tone given the character’s Levantine origins. The use of spoken Phoenician in voiceovers, with translations provided alongside the character’s avatar, adds an additional air of authenticity. In Civ6 the game introduced a unique goal for each leader that largely dictates the way the AI interacts with both human and other computer players. Dido’s agenda – ‘Sicilian Wars’ – places a premium on coastal settlement.36 If a player avoids settling on the coast and leaves the shore to Dido, the AI offers praise and, potentially, friendship or alliance. Settling along the coast, however, is met with disapproval. This agenda had a significant impact in the games I completed with Dido as an adversary. When playing a map dominated by islands and archipelagos we were in direct or indirect conflict throughout; ‘the seas and the shores are Phoenician’, Dido reminded me disapprovingly. If this resulted in outright war, Dido’s language referred to the strength of the Phoenician fleet and to Carthaginian victories over Pyrrhus of Epirus in Sicily and the Romans at Saguntum. It was not immediately obvious to what degree, if at all, the non-Western nature of the Phoenicians structured interactions with Dido as antagonist. The importance of Phoenician commerce and seafaring was evident but Dido’s gender was not especially prevalent in her dealings with players.37 Whenever I was not competing for Dido’s desired 182

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coastal territory, in other words, Phoenicia made a reliable ally. The Dido AI was a consistently strong performer in terms of scientific output and, especially, culture and religion. This was a marked difference from my own perceived strengths for the character and, as outlined below, the impressions of most users. Wider perceptions in the Civ6 community The large and dedicated fanbase for the Civilization franchise serves as a helpful resource to situate my own experiences playing Dido within wider impressions of the character. As part of the current work, I consulted a number of online fora discussions debating the strengths and weaknesses of various leaders, the most annoying or treacherous AI adversaries, and surveys on the best player characters for various victory conditions and styles of gameplay.38 Reading through comments and analysing surveys gives a solid qualitative impression of how players more broadly interact with Dido and the ways in which her biography, origins and gender may play into these perceptions. A first impression from online discussions is that Dido does not make much of an impact, either positively or negatively. In the most well-documented survey of leader and victory preferences (L&V poll) Dido is chosen as a favourite leader by less than 1 per cent of all users (n=763). She is similarly poorly rated for various victory conditions in the survey, only just surpassing 1 per cent for diplomatic victory (n=728) and not passing the 1 per cent threshold for any other victory type. Extended online discussions of the best (and worst) characters support these general views: Dido tends to appear either in the middle or towards the bottom of the pack.39 The fine-grained detail of the L&V poll also provides some idea of what styles of gameplay are encouraged by playing as Dido and the Phoenicians. In response to a question asking what type of victory is best suited to Dido (n=459), an overwhelming number of responses selected domination (60 per cent); this was followed by a roughly even preference for diplomacy (15 per cent), science (12 per cent) and culture (10 per cent), with a notable distaste for the religious victory condition (2 per cent). These results are best contextualized through comparison to player preferences across all leaders (n=21,029). Dido far exceeds the overall inclination for domination-style victories (+25 per cent above the average across all leader responses), is slightly above the average for diplomacy (+6 per cent), slightly below the average for science-based gameplay (−6 per cent), and far below the average for religion (−14 per cent) and culture (−15 per cent). This presents a paradox with the heavy focus on Carthaginian ritual and culture in the historical record, modern scholarship and the reception of Punic materials. Examining the responses to additional survey questions – predominantly surrounding the nature of Dido as adversary – helps to further break down the broader player perceptions that might connect to questions of gender and heritage. Even as an AI opponent, Dido makes few strong impressions on the Civ6 community. She is ranked by users as the fifth ‘hottest’ leader (at 4 per cent) in a category unsurprisingly (and disappointingly) dominated by female rulers.40 On the question of the ‘most treacherous’ opponent, Dido receives only 1 per cent of the overall community vote (n=333). This 183

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result is somewhat surprising given the backstory of the flight of Elissa and a common portrayal of Dido and Phoenicians as crafty or conniving in other forms of media; on the whole, however, female leaders are perceived as far less treacherous than their male counterparts.41 Dido receives zero votes as either the friendliest or the most annoying opponent. The voting for friendliest in particular shows a strong gender bias, with female leaders receiving only 8 per cent of the total vote (n=348), far below the proportion of female character options (31 per cent). Finally, in response to the question of which leader is ‘the most poorly modelled (with regard to historical references)’, 3.1 per cent of users selected Dido (n=161). It is unclear on what basis this question was judged but worth noting that female leaders received a far higher share of the vote (45 per cent) than would be warranted given the gender breakdown of the character options. These results are, at least in part, probably connected to a wider misogynistic pushback against the portrayal of female leaders in antiquity.

Orientalist sensationalism: Salammbô: Battle for Carthage42 If the various Didos of Civilization show at least a sincere attempt at faithfulness to the historical record, a second release set in ancient Carthage offers no such pretense. The 2003 title Salammbô: Battle for Carthage (SBfC) draws heavily on the work and tone of Flaubert, as reimagined in a space/fantasy setting by a series of graphic novels by Philippe Druillet (who also served as an artist in the game’s development).43 Any direct comparison between SBfC and Civilization must take into account that the former is a much shorter game, offering little of the in-depth content presented by the various Civilization offerings.44 The impact of SBfC was also limited; although the game did receive some moderately positive reviews its sales were low, particularly in an American market largely unfamiliar with the source material.45 Nonetheless, the orientalist sensationalism of SBfC presents a useful counterpoint to the attention to detail that characterizes the appearance of Carthage, and particularly Carthaginian women, elsewhere. In SBfC the player controls Spendius, captured by Carthaginians and enslaved in an especially fantastical and cruel version of the ancient city. The opening credits set the scene. Two large temples loom over Carthage. One, to the god Moloch, has a façade mirroring a squat, humanoid face with sinister teeth; the second, taller, and less architecturally distinct temple is dedicated to the goddess Tanit, as we are told by the female narrator. Both a blacked-out sun and a moon in the midst of a lunar eclipse simultaneously shine from the heavens, one over each temple, as orchestral music builds to a crescendo.46 Finally, the priestess Salammbô is revealed, scantily clad and wrapped in a thin, diaphanous veil (Figure 12.2). ‘Salammbô, the grand priestess of Tanit, is resplendently beautiful’ proclaims the narration. Play opens with Spendius locked in a forgotten dungeon in the temple precinct. After resourcefully clubbing the dungeon guard with a stray femur, the player escapes into a dark courtyard and meets the titular Salammbô, who, in turn, sends Spendius to the camp of the mercenary Matho to deliver a statuette as a token of her love. In subsequent 184

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Figure 12.2 The first appearance of the titular character in Salammbô: Battle for Carthage.

scenes, Spendius steals the gold meant for payment for the mercenaries and starts a fullscale revolt; sneaks into Carthage to steal the sacred veil (the zaïmph) allegedly protecting the city; and flees the city atop a stolen elephant and wrapped in the zaïmph. Ultimately, the player leads the mercenary forces in a successful conquest of the weakened Carthage. Matho and Salammbô are united as lovers, and Spendius claims the riches of the city as his own. Gameplay unfolds as an extended first-person puzzle sequence, with the player using basic point-and-click commands to move through spaces, pick up items, investigate surroundings, and combine materials. Wrong decisions are met with gruesome and varied deaths. These action elements are interspersed with extended voiceover dialogue that serves as exposition for the overall plot and allows the player to make basic choices to shape the interactions between characters. The game takes obvious inspiration from Flaubert, including the rough outline of the action and the names and motivations of many characters, but following the work of Druillet the plot diverges significantly. More importantly, in its imagination of Punic Carthage the game design presents a dark and mysterious fantasy completely divorced from any semblance of historical reality. The mercenary camp includes a stable of tamed sand dragons that can be ridden like horses. Despite the omnipresent sun and moon shown in the introductory cutscene, all of the action takes place in the dark. Military characters such as Matho or Hamilcar are dressed in full-body armour, covered in skull motifs with elaborate, often horned headpieces that recall cinematic representations of Batman far more than ancient North Africans. Character skin tones are pale grey, sometimes marked with scars and tattoos, with deep-set, red eyes, without whites or pupils. Some Numidian forces are depicted with dark charcoal skin with white warpaint while others, such as the general Narr’ Havas, are almost albino in complexion. Women exist only in relation to the temple of Tanit and, with the exception of Salammbô, wear highly suggestive, strapless halters that resemble two hands grasping the breasts from behind. 185

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The Carthage players experience in SBfC is clearly deliberately exaggerated and disorienting.47 The combination of specific design choices and the extravagant graphic novels used as source material results in a game that feels more set in a post-apocalyptic landscape or on an alien planet than anything related to the peoples of the Classical Mediterranean. However, this overt othering of a real event from Mediterranean history (the Mercenary War) presents the Punic world not as part of a shared past but rather as something entirely foreign and, in some cases, even inhuman.48 SBfC relies heavily on orientalist and anti-Semitic tropes to entrench this othering, from the frequent description of the greedy merchants inhabiting Carthage, to the violent and largely ineffective choices of the mercenaries, to the overt sexualization of all Punic women. This title emerged in the years immediately following the September 11 al-Qaeda terrorist attacks in 2001 in the USA, a time during which Islamophobic and anti-Muslim sentiment was increasingly featured in, amongst other media, the mainstream press, film, comics and graphic novels.49 The latter of these categories is of particular relevance given the source material for SBfC and a wider history of crossover with the videogame industry. The game’s dark design also bears more than a passing resemblance to the illustration of the Persians in Frank Miller’s graphic series 300; note that both the 2007 cinematic adaptation of this work and the other writings of Miller have been rightly questioned for their overtly Islamophobic views.50 Rather than merely a sensationalist take on ancient materials in the vein of Flaubert – itself already plagued by orientalist undertones – the depictions of SBfC are connected to much larger concerns cutting across various media. This is particularly problematic, as I turn to below, for an audience that may be unaware of other, more appropriate narratives.

Discussion A few final points emerge from the examples introduced here. First, it is noteworthy the degree to which videogames follow the same trends that have defined the reception of the Punic world (and Punic women) across ancient sources, artistic and literary tradition, and modern scholarship. In fact, one could argue the Punic world represented in games is shaped as much by a close engagement with later receptions of the Punic past as by any consideration of the ancient materials themselves. As such, both titles draw on and reinforce orientalist stereotypes established in earlier art and literature in both flagrant and subtle forms. The attempt at providing a historically faithful Dido in Civ6 falls back on traditional strengths in trade, seafaring and the provision of the alphabet to structure play, at the expense of other possible facets of Phoenician culture. This Dido thankfully avoids the tragic suicide that plagues the biographies of Punic women but also lacks in its place the strong personality that characterizes many other Civ6 leaders; players tend to view her as peripheral to the key powers of the game. The orientalist image of Carthage created in the more sensationalist SBfC, on the other hand, is distinguished almost exclusively in terms of its difference and depravity from Western traditions. The inspiration for this difference is drawn not from a look at archaeology or history but 186

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rather a view of the Punic world, first seen through the eyes of the Romans and Greeks, since refracted through the work of Flaubert, then the graphic novels of Druillet, and finally into the videogame format. Gender is intrinsically linked to questions of orientalism and representation, and the gender of the characters did structure player interactions and contribute to the orientalist fantasy of the game, yet it was a far more salient feature of the characters the player meets rather than those the player controls themselves. Surprisingly, the two facets of the ancient Phoenicians that have dominated their modern coverage – trade and ritual – are treated almost mutually exclusively in the videogames in question. The realism of Civ6 avoids the more sensational elements of the Carthaginian past; note that there is no mention of the tophet in game despite its frequent mention in other media.51 In fact, the overall impression of players is that Dido is significantly worse in the areas of culture and religion than both the average character and many female leaders – even though playing against Dido she tended to excel in these areas and, indeed, religion is seen as a central feature holding together the communities of the Punic world.52 There is seemingly little appetite for integrating the most debated, sensational aspects of Punic culture into realistic portrayals. SBfC, in contrast, focuses almost exclusively on these ritual elements as a means of drastically othering the plot, characters, and setting. The Phoenician trader stereotype is only used to describe the excesses of the greedy merchants of Carthage and set up the extreme, depraved wealth held by the city. These observations are brought into sharp relief by the potential reach of historical videogames. The Punic past has long been of interest in popular culture, and gaming is one of the most likely media to continue this representation. The Phoenicia created by Civ6 presents a necessary counterpoint to earlier titles like SbfC. A practical need to focus on a few key characteristics flattens the character of Dido and the complexity of Punic culture. Nonetheless, the game introduces a number of uniquely Punic elements – the cothon, the Phoenician language, the names of specific ancient cities, and perhaps even Dido herself – to an audience largely unfamiliar with this history. Videogames may ultimately bring the Punic world, and Punic women, to a new and potentially more diverse public. We must thus continue to dissect the ways in which the gaming industry both shapes new narratives and refines existing representations. In the Punic case, these portrayals reinforce an artificial distance between the traditional Greek and Roman confines of the Classical world and the many contemporary, non-Western peoples that formed an integral part of Mediterranean history.

Notes 1. An ongoing debate surrounds the chronological and geographic distinction between the cultural labels Phoenician, Punic and Carthaginian (e.g. Bondì 2014; van Dommelen and Gómez Bellard 2008). In video games, these tend to be used interchangeably; I follow this example here even though more nuance is possible in archaeological or historical contexts.

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Women in Classical Video Games 2. Van Dommelen (2014), Lafrenz Samuels and van Dommelen (2019), Doumet-Serhal (2019) and Garnand (2019). 3. J. C. Quinn (2017: 24). 4. Said (1978: 184–91). See also van Dommelen (2014) and Garnand (2001). 5. Van Dommelen (2006). 6. Vella (2014). 7. Van Dommelen (2014). 8. Hodos (2009). 9. Xella, Quinn, Melchiorri and van Dommelen (2013). 10. Garnand (2019). 11. Ibid., 703–4. 12. Dido is, according to Virgil, the name taken by the queen after she founds the city, whereas Elissa is how she appears in earlier texts. The latter is a more faithful naming and carries less weight in a modern setting (see Quinn 2017: 13–14). However, I use Dido here as this is how she is named in the video games at the heart of this paper. 13. Justin, Epitome of the Philippic History of Pompeius Trogus XVIII.3–6. The account of a chaste, noble Dido is further reinforced by Ovid’s Heroides and Metamorphoses (Orr 2016: 430–1). 14. Dido first appears at the end of Book 1 of Virgil’s Aeneid; the bulk of the romance between Dido and Aeneas falls within Book 4. 15. The account of Dido/Elissa may be the best-known instance of a tragic ending for the women of Carthage, but it is certainly not the only such example. The Carthaginian noblewoman Sophonisba also features heavily in later reception in no small part because she follows the same doomed trajectory that has come to define Punic women in the eyes of later generations. 16. The most frequently restaged operatic take on Dido is Purcell’s Dido and Aeneas; see Harris (2017) on the history and impact of this work. On the representation of Dido in Renaissance art, see De Jong (2009). Orr (2016) outlines the competing moral and comic depictions of Dido from the eighteenth century. 17. Zayzafoon (2005). 18. For a collection of essays on Salammbô and its historical connections, see Fauvel and Leclerc (1999). 19. Polybius, The Histories 1.65–88. 20. Toumayan (2009). 21. Garnand (2001). 22. Jones (2019). 23. The review of Civilization VI by Mol, Politopoulos and Ariese-Vandemeulebroucke (2017) includes a longer explanation of the history and characteristics of the game. 24. French and Gardner (2020). 25. On Civilization as a teaching tool for (mostly pre-university) students, see Squire (2005), Squire, Giovanetto, Devane and Durga (2005), Lee and Probert (2010), Pagnotti and Russell (2011) and Senrick (2013). On Civilization as a legitimate historical experience, see Gardner (2012) and Chapman (2013). 26. See Mol, Politopoulos and Ariese-Vandemeulebroucke (2017) for a comparison between earlier releases and Civ6. 188

Orientalism, Gender and Gaming 27. Salter (2011: 367). 28. Ford (2016). 29. Mukherjee (2018: 518). 30. See: https://civilization.fandom.com/wiki/Dido_(Civ5) (accessed 27 October 2020). 31. This representation is clearly inspired by a work by Pierre-Narcisse Guérin (‘Énée racontant à Didon les malheurs de la ville de Troie’, 1815), in which Aeneas describes the fall of Troy to a reclining Dido. 32. In Civ5 leader AIs were programmed on fixed attributes, each ranking from 1 (low) to 10 (high). See: https://civilization.fandom.com/wiki/Dido_(Civ5) (accessed 27 October 2020) for Dido’s AI character breakdown. 33. See: https://civilization.fandom.com/wiki/Dido_(Civ6) (accessed 27 October 2020). 34. The cothon is the name given to an artificial circular harbour, most notably that at Carthage (Hurst and Stager 1978). There is ongoing debate on whether similar basins excavated at other Punic cities represent active ports or symbolic ritual sites – see the sacred cothon on the island of Motya (Nigro and Spagnoli 2014). 35. On jewellery, see Pisano (1988) and Flourentzos and Vitobello (2009). On coinage, see Acquaro (1988). 36. See: https://civilization.fandom.com/wiki/Dido_(Civ6) (accessed 27 October 2020). 37. This is not to suggest that all gendered representations are equally balanced. The game falls back on many clichéd caricatures: a flirtatious Cleopatra with the ‘Mediterranean Bride’ ability; a conniving Catherine de Medici; a giddy Eleanor of Aquitaine and her unique ‘Court of Love’. 38. There are, unsurprisingly, a large number of threads dedicated to this topic. This discussion relies on one survey of leader attributes with an admirably high response rate and good variety of questions on characters and playing styles (see: https://www.reddit.com/r/civ/ comments/alwwdg/poll_vote_for_best_leader_in_each_victory_type/?sort=old). I am grateful to Reddit user u/ascitien for making the data openly available for reuse (accessed 5 August 2020). 39. Cunningham (2020) and Desatoff (2019) and ‘The best civilisations in Civilization 6’. See also the fan poll at: https://www.reddit.com/r/civ/comments/g62iix/civ_6_favorite_leader_poll_ results_if_you_want_to/ (accessed 27 October 2020). 40. Women received 65 per cent of votes (n=680) for hottest ruler, despite comprising only 31 per cent of playable characters. The only male in the top five is a rather muscular Sumerian king Gilgamesh, depicted in an asymmetrical tunic, presumably inspired by Neo-Assyrian palace relief. 41. Female characters received only 19 per cent of the ‘most treacherous’ vote. The two most perfidious rulers – Cyrus II of the (Achaemenid) Persians and Alexander the Great of the Macedonians – were essentially tied, making it difficult to pinpoint a possible tendency to perceive non-Western rulers as less trustworthy. 42. See also Clare (2021: 120–5) for an excellent coverage of Salammbô’s gameplay and the fantastical representations within. 43. Druillet and Flaubert (1980, 1982 and 1985). 44. Total playtime comes in at just under three hours, with little of the replayability that has made the Civilization franchise successful. A full run-through is available online at: https://www. youtube.com/playlist?list=PL6iNuXuk2gdjbTjf2wDyKlU_1H6Hmdh3C (accessed 27 October 2020). These recordings formed the basis of much of this discussion. SBfC is also still available for purchase on the Steam platform. 189

Women in Classical Video Games 45. ‘Interview with Dreamcatcher Europe’ (2004). 46. The game relies on the first movement of Dvorak’s Symphony Number 9 for its key scenes and, oddly, not one of the musical adaptations of Salammbô. 47. Clare (2021: 156). 48. In the final battle against the Carthaginians, a sacrifice to the god Moloch results in stone demons perched atop the city’s ramparts coming to life and fighting on behalf of the Carthaginian forces. 49. Dar (2010), El-Aswad (2013), Awan (2010) and Shaheen (2008). 50. Dar (2010). 51. An oblique reference to infant sacrifice appeared only after repeatedly annoying Dido by stealing prime coastal locations, at which point the AI promptly denounced me with a call hinting at the heart of the tophet debate: ‘I pray you are sent into the fire of Moloch! I pray you be made an offering to Mot! I pray Yam rises and devours you!’ 52. Lancel (1995: 193). See also J. C. Quinn (2017) on the circle of the tophet and the cult of Melqart.

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CHAPTER 13 KASSANDRA’S ODYSSEY Richard Cole

Introduction ‘As you write your Odyssey across the mountains and the seas, remember: the fate of Greece journeys with you.’ This overture to the player, from the ‘E3 2018 Official World Premier Trailer’ for Ubisoft’s Assassin’s Creed: Odyssey (2018), may verge on the melodramatic, but it highlights one of the defining ambitions of this critically acclaimed open-world role-playing game (RPG). That ambition centres around freedom of choice. At a micro level, this means having the option to choose how to respond to events within the game’s historical setting of the Peloponnesian War. At a macro level, that ambition encompasses the entire experience, including the ability to select the protagonist’s gender. A second trailer aptly titled the ‘Power of Choice’ reinforced this position: ‘In this world, there are no wrong paths. No wrong decisions. Only who you choose to become.’ The developers explained how this would work in ‘Behind The Odyssey! Ep. 1 – RPG Mechanics’. Not only would players be able to choose between Kassandra or her brother Alexios, both Spartan mercenaries, but they would also be able to continually express their playstyle, personalizing everything from the look of their ship to the endgame. While this seemingly infinite array of choice is of course bounded by technical and narratological constraints, such a design-led approach means that players will have ‘[their] own unique experience’, as Melissa Maccoubrey (Narrative Creative Director) noted in the episode. The ‘Launch Trailer’ and ‘Final Trailer’ brought this full circle; in the former, the protagonist’s mother declares ‘this is your Odyssey’, while the latter implores players to ‘choose your fate’. By offering players a choice between a male or female protagonist, Assassin’s Creed: Odyssey (ACO) follows in the footsteps of other genre-defining series, including Mass Effect (2007–17) and Fallout (1997–2018). Unlike these futuristic series, ACO takes the arguably more radical step of reinserting female experience into the annals of history. This is no small feat when one considers both the historiographic record,1 the lack of female agency in most AAA games,2 and the commercial pressures around marketing female protagonists.3 The choice even earned a quip from the satirical YouTube channel Honest Game Trailers, whose narrator pointed out that unlike previous instalments in the franchise, ‘this time they let you be a woman!’ On the face of it, ACO appears to rebalance the typical offer. This is made apparent in the game’s disclaimer: ‘Inspired by historical events and characters, this work of fiction was designed, developed, and produced by a multicultural team of various beliefs, sexual orientations and gender identities.’ While equality statements can ring hollow, especially 191

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from an industry that has a poor record for tackling sexual harassment, not to mention sexism in general,4 this opening is underwritten by Ubisoft’s effort to create not just one compelling protagonist with full motion capture and voice-over, but two. Meanwhile, the number of articles and videos devoted to the question of who players should pick demonstrates that the choice was considered fundamental to the experience.5 There is, however, another side to this story. Kassandra’s Odyssey is more complex than the promotional material implies. It also has far-reaching consequences for the reception of the ancient world and the future of gender representation in open-world RPGs. As we will see, the initial advertising for ACO largely omitted Kassandra, focusing instead on Alexios. The choice between the siblings, furthermore, is in many ways a non-choice. They have the same stats and opportunities, NPCs make no distinction between them, and the script is gender neutral. Despite this, reviews of Kassandra range from gratitude to disdain To understand the way design choices are shaping new receptions of antiquity, we need to take a holistic view of the game.6 In this chapter, I adopt the idea that the game lets players ‘be’ a female mercenary in ancient Greece to think about gender representation in historical video games from three interrelated angles. First, I am interested in how the promotional materials for ACO frame its protagonists. Second, I want to consider how this matches in-game experience, which involves analysing different playthroughs (including my own) that highlight unscripted differences between the siblings. Third, I consider how these experiences are discussed by surveying formal reviews and comments on social media. This is in order to move the discussion beyond the way an artefact alone has received and adapted historical, and in this case Classical, materials.7 I conclude by suggesting that with no defining structural, narratological or historical limits placed on Kassandra, her character is multifaceted, revisionist and profoundly feminist.

Framing Kassandra According to Kernan, genre, story and stardom underpin the rhetorical strategies of trailers.8 While Kernan was referring to film trailers, the ads for ACO are no exception. All deliver condensed, audio-visual spectacles that on the one hand emphasize the twinned fates of the protagonist and ancient Greece, and on the other push for the resolution of these dilemmas through mastery of the game’s combat system. The preternatural feats the protagonists perform in the trailers position the game within the action-adventure genre. As we saw with the bombastic E3 trailer, ACO also fits the subcategory of ‘save the world’ games, with their emphasis on destiny. Where these trailers differ from Kernan’s analysis is that rather than drawing attention to stardom, they instead focalize play through the protagonist’s avatar. This shift from star to avatar is important, as it allows for more flexibility in what aspects of the game the trailers divulge. Significantly, Kassandra takes centre stage in just three out of ten trailers, while the most popular, with millions of views, do not feature her character. 192

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The E3 trailer opens with Myrrine, the protagonist’s mother, asking, ‘How can a child save us if he’s sentenced to die?’ The trailer spotlights Alexios, first as a boy being thrown from a cliff, before cutting to show him as a mercenary. Myrrine continues: ‘You were sent by the gods to protect this world.’ Here, protection equates to being able to murder and dismember enemies, with Alexios embodying what Lowe has called the ‘celebration of masculine stereotypes in games’.9 Myrrine is the sole women to speak. The only other women consist of a love interest and the snake-haired visage of Medusa. In this heteronormative trailer, which adopts the idea of women as a ‘beautiful evil’,10 there is only the barest hint that a different playstyle might be available. It is contained within a line spoken by the narrator when we glimpse the adult Alexios, ‘Where we begin does not define who we will become.’ While the narratological emphasis is on Alexios’ Spartan origin and mercenary skills, the sentiment chimes with the game’s focus on personal choice. The use of the third person extends the referent to the player, with the game marketizing self-improvement and inviting players to explore a reality where this is possible. It also hints at the game’s egalitarian approach to gender. Kassandra’s absence, while notable, is therefore more of an absent presence. The trailer glosses over her existence in order to appeal, as we will see below, within a specific market. Kassandra is similarly absent from the launch trailer. Myrrine once again takes the lead. ‘My son, you’re old enough now. My father’s spear holds a certain burden, but you’re ready,’ she says to a young Alexios, establishing equivalence between the spear’s owner, king Leonidas I of Sparta, and Alexios. For Myrrine, Leonidas was ‘Sparta’s last true hero,’ and yet, ‘the same blood courses through your veins’. Myrrine extols the virtues Alexios will need to live up to this legacy, including courage, cunning, and commitment. In this and the E3 trailer, Alexios is the quintessential hero of combat-focused RPG games (historical or otherwise). The launch trailer leads with gritty, blood-splattered visuals (Figure 13.1), and features a host of male bodies in combat, a style not only familiar from RPGs such as God of War (2005–present) and Gears of War (2006–19), but also the filmscapes of Zack Snyder’s 300 (2006), Noam Murro’s 300: Rise of an Empire (2014), Tarsem Singh’s Immortals (2011) and Ridley Scott’s Gladiator (2000). Alexios exhibits several of the traits that Anna Kreider coined for male protagonists, including ‘blasé about killing’, ‘loner’, and ‘killing spree (humans)’.11 Even where Alexios is depicted as showing emotion as a result of loss or heterosexual romance, this is, as Kreider points out, business as usual for the ‘ “gritty” white male action (anti)hero’, who manages ‘to-be-sympathetic-while-doing-terrible-things-because-he’s-doing-them-for-LOVE’.12 These trailers make use of a form of ludonarrative dissonance,13 in that they promote a certain type of narration that coheres with the exaggerated machismo familiar to the audiences of combat RPGs,14 but which does not match the gameplay available (i.e. the ability to play as Kassandra, or indeed less violently). Between the E3 trailer and the launch trailer, Ubisoft gave Kassandra her first starring role in their ‘Gamescom 2018 – Kassandra Cinematic Trailer’. One of the curious aspects of this trailer is that Kassandra is entirely silent. The viewer is presented with a montage of an armoured figure that ends with a profile shot of Kassandra. The narrator picks up the theme of the game, how the beauty and order of Greece is an illusion that ‘hides many 193

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Figure 13.1 Combat sequence from the ‘Launch Trailer’ for Assassin’s Creed: Odyssey © Ubisoft Quebec/Ubisoft, 2018. Here, Leonidas is fighting the Persians while Myrrine draws comparisons between Leonidas and Alexios.

dangers’ and is ‘shattered from within’, with Hades having ‘grown full’ on the conflict between Athens and Sparta. The viewer, and Kassandra, is told that ‘a world of danger lies in your path’. The remaining scenes emphasize the threats Kassandra will face, which include naval warfare, wild beasts and mythical monsters, as well as how she will respond, namely, by engaging in combat. We are told that ‘the days of heroes are over’, and yet the trailer teases its viewers with Kassandra’s potential. The narrator concludes by asking the audience, ‘are you ready now?’ Kassandra’s voice is considered by many to be her defining attribute.15 The decision to focus on combat thus exploits the typical framings of the genre at the cost of introducing Kassandra as a distinct character. In the words of Stuart Hall, this trailer works to ‘enforce, win plausibility for and command as legitimate a decoding of the event within the limit of dominant definitions’.16 At the same time, the trailer does not objectify Kassandra, as is often the case with female figures in video games,17 an approach that is also borne out in-game, even in quests where the protagonists are semi-nude and competing in the pankration. In the trailer, we catch glimpses of her weather-beaten, war-weary face, but for the most part she is concealed by armour, much like Alexios in his equivalent trailer, which differs only in the selection of combat sequences. These trailers are two sides of the same coin. They promise parity of experience within one overall standard. Such a decision is at once radical (here is a non-discriminatory past devoid of fetishizing tropes), but also typical. As Sherman said in her study of gender and genre, ‘girl heroines seem to be mere twins of the male in adventure games’.18 For all the differences between Kassandra and the depiction of women in historical video games, she appears to be a minor variation on the theme of ‘iconic masculine stoicism’,19 which is indebted to both 194

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RPGs20 and the Classics. Her trailer thus dramatizes a paradox of her character. Kassandra is seen as empowering – she is the ‘baddest of badass women in gaming’21 – but this empowerment appears to come not from her character, but from the way in which she embodies the masculine. The ‘Kassandra Cinematic Trailer’ overpromises and underdelivers, with the choice between the siblings presented as visual, rather than substantial. Less than a month later, Ubisoft released the ‘Power of Choice’ trailer. This trailer includes both siblings and forgoes the overarching narrative to concentrate on playstyle. Importantly, this is one of the few trailers where Kassandra takes centre stage (Figure 13.2), informing the viewer that ‘the choices we make, no matter how small, can put us on the path to greatness, or lead us down a road to ruin’. In the foreground, we see Kassandra, unarmoured, dressed in a dark chiton walking the streets of Athens during a cult festival, perhaps in honour of Athena, whose sunlit statue is subsequently framed against the Parthenon. The trailer then cuts to a forking path and Alexios takes Kassandra’s place as their voices merge, telling the viewer ‘to be who you want to be’. The opening plays down the intertextuality established by the launch trailer between Alexios and the film 300 (Figure 13.1). Instead, the focus is on coming to terms with the in-game ethical dilemmas the protagonists will face. In the following scene, Kassandra is petitioned by hostages. The trailer visualizes Kassandra’s choice – to convince the captors to let their captives go, or stay out of the matter – and shows her empathizing with the captives. These scenes eschew combat and spectacle in favour of characterization. Kassandra is presented as compassionate and yet persuasive, able to navigate moral dilemmas with no simple answers (the captors are preventing a family

Figure 13.2 Opening sequence from the ‘Power of Choice’ trailer for Assassin’s Creed: Odyssey © Ubisoft Quebec/Ubisoft, 2018. Note the contrast from the aesthetics of the launch trailer. 195

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who might be infected by plague from leaving their area). Her voice is key, with the trailer demonstrating her full register. In the remaining scenes, Kassandra and Alexios outline the other choices available to players, from war and peace to the ability to play as an assassin or soldier. The ‘Power of Choice’ trailer takes the selection of Kassandra or Alexios as pivotal, and then conflates this with choices made in-game. The implication is that they are distinct characters and offer different means of engaging with the gameworld. The problem with this is that while choosing the path to greatness or ruin will decide the endgame, the impact of choosing Kassandra or Alexios is harder to measure. Aside from the voiceover, there is very little to distinguish the characters. They share the same backstory, milestones and companions, while the game’s scripted events, nonlinear exploration, and character stats make no distinction between the genders. This is made explicit by the game’s director, Scott Philips, in Ubisoft’s ‘E3 2018 Gameplay Walkthrough’ video.22 Philips notes that Alexios/Kassandra share ‘the same story and gameplay possibilities’. He goes on to provide a preview of one of the game’s dynamic events, concluding that ‘you will be able to roleplay the hero. It’s all up to you in how you choose to play’. The emphasis, in both Philips’ commentary and the preview, is that the siblings are blank slates. Alexios will also confront the captives and have to decide how to overcome the impasse. The player may choose different outcomes, but the choices, reactions, and interactions are set. A trailer developed by IGN, entitled, ‘Will You Play as Kassandra or Alexios?’, splits the screen to show viewers just how similar the opening is, shot by shot. Camera angles, lighting, focalization and narrative direction are identical, with each sibling interrupted by the same hired lackies of a loan shark called the Cyclops. While there are some differences – Alexios hums the theme tune and grimaces when interrupted, while Kassandra sings and then purses her lips – they reside primarily in tonal or expressionistic variations bestowed by voice actors and animators. That is, until a player chooses to act, as Reparaz shows in Ubisoft’s ‘Gods, Plagues, and Other Early Dilemmas’ gameplay preview video.23 Reparaz spares the Cyclops’ lackies when playing as Alexios, but is, in his own words ‘much less merciful’ when playing as Kassandra due to identifying more with the protagonist’s young ward Phoibe, whom the lackies could have hurt. Reparaz’s video highlights how these choices affect not only future events (there is a challenging ambush if the player lets the lackies go), but also character development, as defined by the playing, rather than writing, of the protagonists. Reparaz’ Kassandra is more protective of Phoibe than his Alexios, suggesting that players do – consciously or otherwise – roleplay different outcomes depending on the gender of their chosen protagonist. The ‘Power of Choice’ trailer presents equal opportunities for the siblings. This could be seen as a powerful step in the right direction in terms of reclaiming female agency and experience in historical video games (both Kassandra and Alexios, for example, can ‘Spartan Kick’ enemies in the same way Gerard Butler did in the film 300). Alternatively, it could be read as representative of a limitation in game design, of the industry’s inability to dispense with male leads. We can see this at work in both the game’s marketing tagline: 196

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‘Embark on your journey from humble beginnings to living legend as Alexios or Kassandra,’ as well as the ‘Final Trailer’ for the game, where Alexios and Kassandra are entirely interchangeable. The closing scene, in which the narrator contends the protagonist ‘shall vanish, forgotten for eternity’, emphasizes this equivalence, with each sibling taking turns to offer a riposte. This is Kassandra’s second paradox, to which we will return in the following section. It is a paradox that calls into question whether it is possible to identify her as a distinctive character other than within a subjective playthrough due to the uniformity of play. The situation is much the same in the trailers for the ‘Legacy of the First Blade’, the first downloadable content (DLC) to extend the world of ACO. Here, Alexios is again privileged as the canonical protagonist, with viewers expected to empathize with the threat to his family. Only the trailer for ‘The Fate of Atlantis’, the last DLC for ACO, is Kassandra positioned front and centre, the one to meet the gods, with Alexios relegated to a supporting role. The representational imbalance illustrated by these trailers is striking. It is also not confined to promotional videos but extends to other paratexts. Alexios is the default hero for the game’s cover design, with Kassandra appearing the reverse; he is also the lead image on Ubisoft’s website and the game’s homepage. While there are exceptions, with both Alexios and Kassandra appearing on the pedimentinspired menu screen, on average Kassandra appears less frequently (if at all) in most of the pre-launch materials, while even post-launch her unequal pairing with Alexios remains in evidence.24 The results tally with the wider analysis of video games set in antiquity undertaken by Figueroa in this volume, as well as the quantitative research Burgess, Stermer and Burgess conducted on game covers25 and the gender coding Near drew attention to in video game box art.26 Considering the scale of the issue, it is worth reflecting on the drivers behind such disparity. In July 2020, Schreier published on the sexual misconduct endemic in Ubisoft.27 Schreier wrote that according to employees, ‘the machismo of Ubisoft’s offices seeps into the company’s games’, in particular Assassin’s Creed. Directors have claimed it would take too much effort to animate women, while the company’s creative lead and marketing department have systematically undermined attempts to promote gender equality due to the ‘false perception . . . [that] female protagonists wouldn’t sell’, despite the evidence to the contrary.28 Schreier reported: ‘Assassin’s Creed: Odyssey went much the same way . . . The team originally proposed making the sister [Kassandra] the only playable character, according to four people who worked on the game, until they were told that wasn’t an option.’ Kassandra’s Odyssey, from her absence in the E3 trailer to her central role in ‘The Fate of Atlantis’ is representative of the tension between texts and paratexts.29 Her journey defines the ‘trade-offs . . . made behind the scenes in order to ensure playability and, perhaps most importantly in an age where video games present large investment on the part of the developing studios, commercial success’.30 While initially overshadowed by Alexios, Kassandra has become more prominent the longer ACO has been around. The framing narratives of the trailers discussed thus provide ‘a deeper appreciation of the constraints of game design and the commercial 197

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pressure of the industry’, which Rollinger argues could ‘significantly advance our understanding of [the way] historical processes are depicted’.31 Gray puts it another way when he suggests that paratexts not only package texts, but help to ‘fill them with many of the meanings that we associate with them’.32 Trailers pare down the complexity of a game by editing non-chronological scenes into a powerful micro-narrative that, as Gray argues, plays ‘a constitutive role in establishing a “proper” interpretation for a text’.33 The trailers for ACO create a trajectory of reception, anticipating Alexios as the hero and the one to take action. Kuypers argues that, ‘when we frame in a particular way, we encourage others to see facts in a particular way . . . filter[ing] our perceptions’ to make certain facts ‘more noticeable’.34 The audiences of these paratexts could easily be forgiven for concluding that there would be no female lead. As one fan commented on the E3 trailer ‘correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t they say that Cassandra [sic] was in the beginning the main protagonist of this game? If that’s true, this trailer is pretty bad on giving that hint!’ The stakeholders at Ubisoft ensured its paratexts would contribute framing narratives that not only situate the game firmly within the genre’s gendered conventions, but also further the myth that such games cannot be led by a female protagonist. Goffman once spoke of the way that framing activities are ‘anchored’ in reality, of the edge that connects the framing experience to the world in which it takes place, and of the strange way this anchor exists on both sides.35 The effect of such frames, MacLachlan and Reid argue,36 is to separate fictional space from reality, to mediate passage ‘from everyday reality to the highly organised space of a fictional world’, and in the process, to ‘carry metamessages about how to interpret what they enclose’. Wolf develops this, suggesting that frames ‘not only mark the inside/outside border between artefact and context’, but also create ‘a “bridge” between its inside and its outside or context’.37 In managing commercial, generic, and character-based expectations, the promotional material for ACO demonstrates one way in which developers are able to ‘seduce us into ways of being and acting as they discover a language of video games that is inextricably intertwined with the problems of the . . . present’.38 This language, inspired by the game’s cultural context, spills over from the frame into audience receptions of the gameworld.39 As another player commented on Eurogamer’s ‘Voice Comparison’ video (2018), ‘I’ve always wondered why Kassandra felt so much more natural to play as but after learning that the devs were forced to make [Alexios] a playable character it makes a lot more sense.’ These receptions are not insignificant, especially for video games, which, unlike traditional media, include optionality at their core. This discretionary feature can be tracked to paint a picture of what an entire audience has chosen. In the case of ACO, it is telling that within a few months of the launch, two thirds of players had chosen Alexios, in contrast to the 50/50 split in testing and the fact Ubisoft predicted Kassandra would be more popular.40 These statistics are particularly remarkable in light of the fact women make up more than half of the typical audience for adventure RPGs, including a previous instalment in the Assassin’s Creed series that featured a female protagonist.41 While it would be reductive to assume an even split of male and female gamers would choose their respective gendered avatars, it is likely that the promotional material for ACO, 198

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which positions Alexios as the canonical character, is partly responsible for players’ initial preferences.

Playing Kassandra Trailers and other promotional materials show how Kassandra’s Odyssey was, and continues to be, shaped by marketing forces, industry preferences, and paratextual framing. Let us now move from frame to centre and consider Kassandra in-game. In this section, I will evaluate my experience of playing as Kassandra, alongside the views of other players, to explore the paradoxes outlined above, along with the impact her character might have on the way the ancient world is experienced in historical video games. In some RPGs, siding with characters locks off storylines, as in the historical-fantasy The Witcher 2 (2011). Siding with characters is of course different from choosing a protagonist, and yet the interactions I have had with Kassandra are central to my experience, in which I chose to ‘lock off ’ Alexios’ storyline. The same is true of other players, as can be seen when fans and reviewers refer to ‘my Kassandra’ or ‘my Alexios’. This is hardly surprising when we consider just how extensive the gameworld is. Navigating the gameworld as Kassandra develops her character in a way that scripting and plot development cannot. Without setting gender expectations, the game continually presents players with ethical options, including the possibility to flirt, lie, barter with or indeed terminate NPCs. While the procedural rhetoric of the series at times rewards indiscriminate killing, the game does not have the same binary as, for example, Mass Effect 2 (2010), which gave players the option to be either good or bad in their dealings. Playing as Kassandra, I chose to lie on occasion, while at others I could be virtuous. The Kassandra I know is complex, generous, and sometimes prone to anger. She is imposing, and one has the impression that any threats she makes are genuine. She is persuasive, quick witted, and sometimes awkward. She is, as Krishna wrote on Steam, ‘compelling’, with a personality that ‘makes you want to be her friend’.42 Players clearly identify both as – and with – Kassandra, a conflation honed by the hundreds of hours spent developing her character in a non-linear, responsive manner. In one quest, where you rescue a woman at the mercy of a mob, Kassandra reprimands the leader, who claims the woman is dangerous, saying, ‘she just looks scared to me’. This is not a dialogue option, and instead reveals how the game establishes sequences that offer players the opportunity to perform or counter the motions Kassandra-as-character epitomizes. Of course, someone playing as Alexios may have a similar experience. What I have outlined does not necessarily make Kassandra unique. The same is true of the way in which the gendered equivalence embodied in the Kassandra/Alexios choice manifests elsewhere in-game. There are male/female bandit options for your ship’s crew, while the legendary armour sets for the siblings are identical except where references to popular culture take precedence.43 Meanwhile, the primary antagonist will always be the sibling you chose not to play as. Even the romance options, which might endear players to 199

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certain personalities, are mostly free to pursue regardless of gender, with Kassandra and Alexios are able to ‘do all the Non-Playable-Characters’, as the narrator of the Honest Trailer wryly notes. The point here is whether the choice between Alexios and Kassandra is a real choice if the stakes are the same. This is a criticism that has been levelled at other games founded on choice, but which ultimately deliver the same ending regardless of the decisions players have agonized over during gameplay.44 To investigate further, we need to explore moments where Kassandra becomes independent of this gender parity, where playing as her can generate reflections on the game and its representation of antiquity. In one quest, entitled ‘It’s Complicated’, the player encounters a smuggler who fears fanatics will slaughter his beloved, who just so happens to be the wife of the smuggler’s partner. ‘There’s always a girl, isn’t there?’ says Kassandra. Her exasperation is vocal and embodied, while the tiredness in her voice hints at the times she has heard this before. It is a moment that does not have the same gravitas when voiced by Alexios, a rare occasion when the game draws attention to different gendered experiences. Another instance that sheds light on Kassandra’s upbringing and self-perception is when she slays the minotaur during one of the game’s climatic quests. Kassandra declares ‘Mater would be so proud!’ Her surprise and delight mirrored my own at this narrative twist. To hear Alexios speak the lines is to hear, as Nelson put it, ‘the caricature of a hero’.45 Kassandra’s achievement feels earnest, with the game’s algorithms working to resituate the player as the driver of new mythic imaginings. This act challenges the patriarchal nature of myth, which Lowe argues has been ‘reinvented’ by video games, and reaches beyond even feminist revisions in that it inverts the base narrative to offer not just another side to the same story, but different outcomes.46 The nuances between vocal delivery may be subtle for the most part, but for fans it is a sticking point. In a review of the opening gameplay, Ramée said, ‘Alexios, voiced by Michael Antonakos Alexios, is more gruff and to the point in his responses, while Kassandra, voiced by Melissanthu Mahut, speaks with a hint of playfulness.’47 This playfulness is expressed throughout the game, including in one quest where the player is asked to retrieve three items for an elixir. ‘Could these three items be in more different places,’ exclaims Kassandra, whose resigned frustration not only mirrored my own, but also drew attention self-reflexively to a trope of RPG gameplay. While appreciation for each voice actor’s style remains, like a playthrough itself, subjective, it is possible to quantify by looking at comments on social media. On IGN’s ‘Will You Play As Kassandra or Alexios?’ video,48 players favour Kassandra’s voice, hailing it as ‘genuine’ and ‘natural and less stilted’. On Eurogamer’s ‘Voice Comparison’ video, commentators note how Kassandra’s performance is ‘more “alive” ’ and that she sounds like an ‘authentic real person’.49 While some players say they will choose Alexios, either because they are disparaging of female protagonists or because they believe Alexios is more ‘historically accurate’, voice acting matters in terms of translating the gameworld into an authentic experience. As Rollinger notes, ‘what is perceived by players as “authentic”, is more a consequence of rarely explicated preconceptions and assumptions than of specific historical knowledge’.50 In this case, authenticity is a by-product of vocal quality and delivery. Crafting the right soundscape 200

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for the game, however, has wide ranging consequences. Players comment on Kassandra’s adept delivery of ancient Greek, demonstrating that authenticity can overlap with realism in terms of anchoring players in history.51 Kassandra’s voice is also innately linked to immersivity and a nuanced appreciation for the game’s scripted events. Nelson Jr. puts it another way: No sequence illustrates the subtle differences between the two main characters better than your parting from Markos, the man who took you in as a child and set you on the path of a mercenary . . . Kassandra greets him curtly. Alexios . . . slightly less so . . . If you choose to hug Markos as Kassandra, her deep sigh and clipped sentences indicate that, for her, it’s a concession to Markos. If you choose to hug Markos as Alexios, you get the sense that this is actually a concession for Alexios himself.52 In addition to dialogue, there are other sequences that evoke difference. One is the way the game holds a mirror up to Kassandra. ‘The world is full of mercenaries like you,’ reads a tip on the loading screen, while women give quests, lead states, and hold positions of power in the nefarious Cult of Kosmos. Playing as Kassandra emphasizes the way in which this world critiques the demographics of other gameworlds, and crafts an alternative history.53 The focus on female agency and discovery challenges not just the past players may be familiar with, but also its construction and dissemination, especially when one considers how most of the game’s setting, from Classical Athens to the ruins of the Minoans, has been preserved and passed down by men. This happens at both the level of the game’s frame story, where the player encounters two female scientists who are attempting to access Kassandra’s genetic memories through the use of advanced VR technology, and within the historical setting of the game’s core narrative, where the photography mode allows players to reclaim aspects of the past by capturing and sharing their experiences as Kassandra. In the words of Kapell and Elliott, this co-opts players into ‘actively . . . constructing meanings and understanding history as a process rather than a master narrative of Great Men and their actions’,54 something that is especially potent when one photographs Kassandra interacting with ancient Greece in impossible ways. This reclaiming and embellishment of the record is representative of the game’s asymmetrical interest in historical accuracy.55 On the one hand, players can explore ‘historical locations’ marked on the gamemap, which come with descriptions of their purpose and import. On the other, the game is much less interested in lived experience.56 While the choice to present the siblings as mercenaries allows for some creative flexibility, Kassandra is decidedly atypical. Even the game’s attempt to present Kassandra as unique due to her Spartan origin, whose women were ‘seen as radically different by the Athenian and Roman men who wrote about them,’ does not excuse her unique qualities, since these women only ‘engaged in physical training to strengthen their bodies for childbirth’.57 As an instrument of fate, she is more akin to the goddess Athena in Homer’s Odyssey than contemporary women in Classical Greece. As a fighter, she is analogous to mythical 201

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women, such as the Amazon queen Penthesilea, or the historical Artemisia I of Caria. Meanwhile, her name, which aptly translates as one who ‘stands out among men’,58 continues the long reception of the prophetic Trojan princess, Cassandra. And yet, her character is not segregated from ‘everyday’ women in the same way that these exceptional examples are in the record. Her appropriation of historically masculine qualities does not condemn her to the same fate as figures like Penthesilea, while her abilities are not a tainted gift from Apollo destined to torment her. Although some skills may be named after or inspired by the gods, it is the player’s application of these skills that empowers Kassandra to save Greece and become an immortal. In ACO, it is skill – both the player’s skill but also the skill of the mercenary to complete quests and right wrongs – that matters. This fantasy is engrossing because it removes the contingencies that would have existed for the purposes of an authentic gaming experience based on the idea that where one begins does not define what happens subsequently. Kassandra’s affinity with fantastical portrayals promotes an unrealistic depiction of ancient Greek women and reinforces problematic stereotypes, but at the same time allows her character narrative freedom inspired by ancient examples, and goes some way towards offering audiences the female protagonists they have asked for.59 Her character can be read ‘symbolically, for what [she has] to say about women’s relationship with history’,60 and in this case, gaming culture as well. In creating this amalgamation, ACO skirts issues of gender bias, discrimination and abuse, and instead presents players with an equal opportunity of experience in what is and would have been an unequal world. Lowe has written of how in video games, ‘the goals of entertainment and accessibility are continually in tension with historical accuracy, trimming its details, pruning its nuances, and filling in its grey areas’.61 It is not, however, quite as simple as this, with entertainment and accessibility always watering down an historical gold standard. Kassandra’s Odyssey offers a means to reflect on the role of women in history, while her performance adds nuance to gaming experience and classical reception alike. This is particularly apparent in the non-diegetic Discovery Tours that players can take with Kassandra as the default lead. These pedagogical expeditions take place within the game’s photorealistic reconstruction of Greece, and cover topics such as myth, democracy, and architecture. In the tour on the daily life of ancient women, your guide, the wealthy Aspasia, notes that women’s work ‘should be far more appreciated on the whole, but we’re going to acknowledge that now’. Having played as Kassandra, this tour offered a powerful dichotomy between my playthrough and the lives of ancient women. As the tour points out, women led vastly different to lives to men, in that they were not citizens, could be exchanged in marriage, and had limited freedom. Their role was not to be seen, with the exception of courtesans. Against this backdrop, the tour explores the power women might have had (i.e. in controlling their dowery, or as priestesses). Aspasia concludes by saying that despite these restrictions, women ‘held onto their strength and dignity’. In order to appreciate what this service offers, we need to move beyond the siloed analysis of historical video games identified by Rollinger to think about ‘the role that video game technology can play’ in shaping public history.62 Lowe has identified a divergence between Classical scholarship and historical video games, with the latter 202

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emphasizing ‘violent and military aspects’, while scholarship has incorporated a ‘broader view of ancient culture which prominently includes the experiences of women’.63 Combat may still form a large part of ACO, but the Discovery Tours, along with the moments identified above, means that such a distinction no longer holds sway. Unlike traditional media, video games do not present the player with one dominant mode of historical representation, perhaps supplemented by a historical note. There is more than one type of historical process at play in ACO, and more possibilities for cross-disciplinary and ludic learning than in other games. Jerome de Groot has articulated how historical fictions ‘create, state, and enable different historic encounters, new modes of pastness, a new historicity’.64 ACO, thanks to ‘the verbs or actions that a player enacts and experiments with in order to participate in and alter the state of play’,65 shows how games are engaging this new historicity in a selfaware manner. ACO not only imports a tremendous amount of data relating to antiquity and its reception into its open-world, but it also exports this information in different formats, offering Kassandra as the primary executable to run the instructions. Her character allows players to reflect on the seismic differences between what is possible in-game and what might have been the case in antiquity.66 In positioning Kassandra as the audience for the Discovery Tour, ACO manages to sell players all the benefits of, along with the opportunity to critique, multiple epistemologies in an entertainment system with its own complex referentiality, while also allowing them to customize their experience of these epistemologies, both literally (they can tailor the tour), and subjectively by contrasting ‘their’ Kassandra (and indeed their knowledge of antiquity) with the information provided. ‘You have to forget what you know about the past,’ says Markos in the prologue. In place of this, ACO offers an individualistic encounter with several modes of history. Rather than receiving a predetermined account, playing this type of game is, as Rollinger argues, ‘a form of “doing” of even “living” history’.67 When that history (and media space) has been firmly established as the domain of male heroes destined to perform great deeds, choosing Kassandra is a decisive imposition inspired by Classical precedents, feminist revisionism, and progressive game design.68 Just as the plot revolves around Layla Hassan inserting her mind into Kassandra’s memories, so the game is unapologetic in the way that Kassandra injects contemporary affinities and cultural contingencies into its comprehensive and palimpsestic expression of Greece. Southgate has argued that fiction helps popularize the debate about the nature of history.69 What we see here, though, is the frontier of that debate extending into ownership of history within the context of video game reconstructions. The game’s marketing of choice ramifies into personal appropriation of historical ideas and their reception. The fate of Greece does indeed journey with the player in the sense that each protagonist offers the chance to retcon everything from historical turning points to the events described in myth. The difference is that playing as Kassandra liberates both the position of women in the ancient world, who were ‘traditionally praised for silence and invisibility’,70 and challenges the framing of the game, injecting her presence into a genre that has frequently side-lined women,71 portrayed them in 203

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problematic ways,72 or at best required players to subvert gendered expectations.73 The progress made by placing Kassandra in these situations and allowing players the freedom to determine in-game outcomes through the lens of Kassandra/Alexios was in fact inadvertently tested by the developers in the ‘Legacy of the First Blade’ DLC, where the protagonist is forced, regardless of gender or sexual orientation, to have a child. The controversy caused by this decision is evidence of ACO’s legacy of choice in action, with players, particularly those who chose Kassandra and were powerless to prevent her slide from mercenary to mother and housewife, expressing their frustration at the developers for betraying not only the discretionary features of the game, including choices already made, but, more importantly, Kassandra’s character.74 The fallout from this decision, along with the reparations Ubisoft made, demonstrates the impact that Kassandra has had culturally, both within the gaming community and the industry at large. Like other forms of historical fiction, games offer the chance to ‘reassert the female presence into history’,75 to write back but also ‘create something owned’ by the player.76 ACO does so by appropriating and redirecting its source material, genre, and even its own legacy. It is a rewarding struggle, as reviewers have shown in the way they describe Kassandra.77 Kim went as far as writing the headline: ‘Two-Thirds of Assassin’s Creed: Odyssey Players Chose the Wrong Protagonist. Yeah I said it’.78 It is also a struggle that is likely to bear fruit, not least because the developers have revealed that Kassandra is the canonical character, and included a choice of gender in Assassin’s Creed: Valhalla (2020). The critical and commercial success of Kassandra’s journey is a strong argument for developers to ‘do the hard work to build games that are rich and complex enough to support narratives that differ from the single-track storylines’.79 Although the choice between the siblings may seem cosmetic, ACO offers fans the tools to search for something different, not only within Classical contexts and gaming traditions, but also beyond, to construct a new Odyssey.

Notes 1. King (2016) and O’Gorman (2006). 2. Burgess, Stermer and Burgess (2007). 3. Near (2013). 4. Hern (2020); Schreier (2020). See also the comments section for the trailers, especially IGN’s video, ‘Will You Play as Kassandra or Alexios’ (2018), where one user wrote, ‘I don’t wanna play a cooking simulator so I’ll play as Alexios.’ See also the Gamergate controversy. 5. Nelson (2018), Kain (2018) and IGN (2018b). 6. Chapman (2012). 7. I follow the call for further research into player experiences made by Chapman, Foka and Westin (2017: 365). For how Classical Reception scholarship tends to prioritize how (post-) classical societies have generated meaning by receiving and adapting Classical materials, see Willis (2017: 2–3) and Hopkins (2014: 7). The same is broadly true in scholarship on historical fiction, although there are exceptions, e.g. Beavers (2020a) and Bergold (2019).

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Kassandra’s Odyssey I have not encountered any scholarship on unprompted receptions of new media in the manner of Gray (2010). 8. Kernan (2004). 9. Lowe (2009: 80). 10. King (2016). 11. Kreider (2014). 12. Ibid. See also Chapman, Foka and Westin (2017: 365); Lowe notes that these attributes ‘can be identified as a major factor in the proliferation of classically-themed computer games’ (2009: 80). 13. Hocking (2007). 14. Near (2013) and Sherman (1997). 15. Kim (2018), Kain (2018) and Murnane (2018). See also most ACO discussion boards. 16. Hall (1980: 135). 17. Near (2013), Burgess, Stermer and Burgess (2007). This follows calls for female characters to be dressed in more ‘realistic’ armour (e.g. the Women Fighters in Reasonable Armour tumblr). 18. Sherman (1997: 254). 19. Murray (2018: 194). 20. Burgess, Stermer and Burgess (2007). 21. Greer (2018). 22. ‘Assassin’s Creed: Odyssey: E3 2018 Gameplay Walkthrough Ubisoft [NA]’ (2018). 23. ‘Assassin’s Creed: Odyssey: Gods, Plagues, and Other Early Dilemmas Gameplay Preview | Ubisoft [NA]’ (2018). 24. This tallies with surveys conducted by Kreider (2010). 25. Burgess, Stermer and Burgess (2007). 26. Near (2013). 27. Schreier (2020). 28. See also Near (2013: 263–4), who suggests that: ‘it is not the presence of women (or men) in box art per se that affects sales, but the presence of female characters alone (without male characters) that reduces sales’. 29. Gray (2010: 4); I follow Gray in seeing ‘text’ as the entire multimedia storyworld. 30. Rollinger (2020b: 6). 31. Ibid., 7. 32. Gray (2010: 6). 33. Ibid. 34. Kuypers (2009: 181). On this point, see also MacLachlan and Reid (1994: 22–39) and Wolf (2006): 3–4). 35. Goffman (1974: 248). Media theorists have interpreted this edge as the frame or paratext. See MacLachlan and Reid (1994: 4) and Wolf (2006: 20); see also Miller (1979: 179) and Derrida’s concept of the parergon (Derrida 1987: L 9). 36. MacLachlan and Reid (1994: 93, 39 and 13). 37. Wolf (2006): 30. 205

Women in Classical Video Games 38. Jagoda (2018: 136). 39. Murray (2018: 174). See also Wolf (1999: 101–2) and Gray (2010: 44–6 and 140–1). 40. Carter (2018) and Kim (2018). 41. Yee (2017) and Conditt (2014). 42. Krishna (2020). 43. Kassandra’s ‘Amazon Armor’ references Wonder Woman, while Alexios’ ‘Armor of Achilles’ echoes Brad Pitt’s outfit in the film Troy (2004). 44. This was the case with the ending of Mass Effect 3: Clarkson (2012). 45. Nelson Jr. (2018). 46. Lowe (2009: 82). 47. Ramée (2018). 48. IGN (2018b). 49. Eurogamer (2018). 50. Rollinger (2020b: 5–6). 51. Chapman (2016: 59–89). 52. Nelson Jr. (2018). 53. For a discussion of how games go about achieving this, see Bogost (2008: 136), see also Cooper and Short (2012: 11) on how historical fiction has challenged the representation of women in history. 54. Kapell and Elliott (2013: 14). 55. See Reinhard (2019) for how the developers made use of historical consultants. 56. For the lived experience of ancient women, see James and Dillon (2012). 57. King (2016). 58. Bremmer (2006). 59. Kreider (2014). 60. Wallace (2012: 214–15). 61. Lowe (2009: 75). 62. Rollinger (2020b: xiv and 4–8). 63. Lowe (2009: 81). 64. De Groot (2016: 152). 65. Jagoda (2018: 131). 66. Cooper and Short (2012: 8). 67. Rollinger (2020b: xiv). 68. Cooper and Short (2012: 14). 69. Southgate (2009: x–xi). 70. King (2016). 71. Near (2013) and Burgess, Stermer and Burgess (2007). 72. Beavers (2020b). 73. Sherman (1997: 254). 74. Good (2019).

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Kassandra’s Odyssey 75. Cooper and Short (2012: 15). 76. De Groot (2010: 165). 77. Kain (2018). 78. Kim (2018). 79. Murnane (2018). See also Maria (2018) and the ‘Alexios or Kassandra?’ discussion on Steam.

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CHAPTER 14 ‘WE DO WHAT WE MUST TO SURVIVE’: FEMALE SEX WORKERS IN ASSASSIN’S CREED: ODYSSEY Roz Tuplin

In 2018, Ubisoft published Assassin’s Creed: Odyssey, the first of their series of historical role-playing games to be set in Classical Greece, between 431 and 422 bce . The player controls the Misthios, an assassin of the player’s chosen gender, as they attempt to reunite their estranged family and rescue their wayward sibling from the villainous Cult of Kosmos, who are trying covertly to rule Greece. The game’s vast world and numerous side quests introduce characters from across ancient society, but the main storyline (that which is not optional for player progression) is notable for prominently featuring female sex workers. A lengthy section of the early game follows a community of hetaerae (sex workers – sing. hetaera) in Korinth as they struggle against a powerful local gangster. Meanwhile in Athens, you must ally with Aspasia, the consort of Perikles, presented in line with some classical sources as a hetaera-turned-politician. Female sex worker characters are not unheard of in videogames – indeed, Ubisoft was already using scantilyclad ‘courtesan’ NPCs to provide side quests around 16th century Rome in Assassin’s Creed: Brotherhood (2010). But their appearance in interactive media is usually primarily for titillation, and they are often subject to exploitation and violence. Odyssey presents a more compassionate view of these women that is more reflective of progressive feminist theory around sex work while also being rooted in classical thinking about sex workers and female entrepreneurship. This 2018 reimagining of the female sex worker follows a decade’s growing visibility for women in the games industry that has engendered anxious debate online and in media about gender, sex and power, from the rise of female ‘personality’ streamers to the crisis of ‘gamergate’. In this chapter, I will look at how Ubisoft’s interpretation of classical concepts and archetypes contributes to contemporary discussions – but also how the game capitulates to the irresistible pull of screen tropes around violence and punishment, precluding the possibility of a truly radical statement on women, sex and power. In mainstream videogames, sex work is sleazy, fun entertainment for the client, but the provider – almost always female – is less than human. Female sex workers including prostitutes, escorts and exotic dancers have appeared in games such as Dragon Age and Fallout to Grand Theft Auto and Duke Nukem, but almost always as NPCs (Non-Playable Characters), functioning decoratively or fulfilling minor speaking roles with minimal influence on the wider game narrative. Some games allow the player to have sex with these characters for voyeuristic titillation: if games transport us to other places, prostitutes 208

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are just another fun thing to do when you get there. These depictions echo familiar tropes from cinema and television, where female sex workers are ‘marked women’ without value beyond their bodies: as Russell Campbell observes, ‘she is required to make her body available to men on demand, and then condemned for doing so’.1 Games have notoriously taken the dehumanization of sex workers even further by allowing the player to use their services and then casually enact violence towards them as punishment: in Grand Theft Auto, players are able to purchase the labour of a prostitute, murder her and take back the in-game currency they used to buy her now lifeless body.2 Games provide the most brutal articulation of a wider cultural narrative that prostitutes are vessels for male sexuality with no intrinsic human value themselves. In this context, the portrayal of hetaerae in Odyssey is unusual. They are not hypersexualized; they are allies to the Misthios, and they must be protected by the player. They also all work and live together as a ‘family’, in contrast with the dysfunctionality of the Misthios’ own broken family unit. This presentation seems more in accordance with pro-sex worker feminist thought; in the past few decades there has been a growing body of theory which counters the ‘anti-sex worker’ tendencies of twentieth-century scholarship, arguing that sex work is valid labour (‘work like any other’)3 and that sex workers are a marginalized group who are entitled to a voice, authentic representation in media and legislation that prioritizes their health and wellbeing. This view is not, of course, new, and has been working its way into the mainstream since the 1960s, but Chi Adanna Mgbako notes accelerations in this process recently, from increased foregrounding of the voices of sex workers in the media to the institutionalization of sex workers’ rights by international human rights bodies.4 Furthermore, pro-sex worker organizations have been critiquing video games for their portrayals of sex workers within this framework for well over a decade – for example, Sex Workers Outreach Project issued a statement condemning Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas (2004) as far back as 2006.5 Odyssey’s portrayal of hetaerae also draws on classical sources, carefully selected and interpreted to fulfil a broadly pro-sex worker agenda. This does not require too much manipulation: prostitution was legal and commonplace across ancient Greece and significant attention, sometimes surprisingly positive, is paid to this social group in Classical writing. Some sources are, of course, squeamish about the sex aspect of the work – it does not, for example, fit comfortably with Plato’s ideals – and misogyny is rife, particularly in works of oratory. Alison Glazebrook notes that in judicial proceedings the presence of the ‘bad girl’ hetaera in the defendant’s sex life is often used by the plaintiff as a ‘sign of an opponent’s extravagance or corrupt nature’.6 But in principle the job does not appear to have been held in lower regard than many other types of menial work.7 There was also recognition of the industry’s economic role in major city states such as Athens and Korinth: a possibly apocryphal story links Solon with the founding of a municipal brothel in Athens where slaves were paid by the state to have sex with paying customers.8 Out of this context, entrepreneurial figures emerge in the popular imagination, from Attic comedies to Socratic dialogues, who are educated, quick-witted and financially independent. It is surely notable that one of Socrates’ few recorded conversations with a 209

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woman is with the hetaera Theodote in Xenophon’s Memorabilia. Additionally, sex businesses were often owned by women, and ‘free female prostitutes often were selfemployed, living and working without male infringement on their compensation or business activity’.9 In this respect, female sex workers become a useful ‘in’ for identification by modern female players who are less likely to recognize their own experiences in those of a dependent Athenian housewife.

Sex and power in the games industry Ubisoft’s 2018 portrayal of sex work can be traced back to debates that began brewing at the beginning of the decade. A distinct cultural anxiety developed from the early 2010s as internet fan culture, YouTube and streaming offered new ways for women to engage with games while presenting a sexualized image. These include but are not limited to: dressing up in sexualized ‘cosplay’, making videos or livestreaming gaming activity in revealing clothing, and undertaking more directly monetized sex work in game spaces, such as the long-running phenomenon of prostitution in Second Life or, more recently, sex workers moving online to work in Nintendo’s Animal Crossing during the Coronavirus pandemic.10 These developments coincide with a general increase in the number of women visibly making and consuming games: The Entertainment Software Association (ESA) reported 40 per cent of players in the USA were female in 2008 rising to 46 per cent in 2018,10 while Interactive Software Federation Europe (ISFE) reported that less than 30 per cent of European players were female in 2008, rising to 46 per cent by 2018.12 Meanwhile, streaming platform Twitch had an over 80 per cent male user base in 2017 which dropped to 65 per cent by 2019 as more female players entered the space.13 Increasingly, women are gaining power and influence using their female identities in a traditionally male-dominated culture. Cosplay, centred as it is on the body, is a particular source of anxiety because of how it dominates the online visual culture and games conventions such as Comic Con: Nina B. Huntemann observes that ‘this form of participatory fan culture is not only on display for others to see but also constitutes a lot of convention attendees’ conversations, photographs, interactions, and memories.’ This sense of invasion extends to a general anxiety that women are responding to games culture in a uniquely femme way and, worst of all, exploiting heterosexual male weakness with their sexuality: Twitch streamers who show their bodies on camera are often derided as ‘titty streamers’ stealing audiences from male content creators (Twitch itself carefully polices the lines of acceptable expression with its detailed nudity rules).14 Over all of this hangs the spectre of the ‘fake gamer girl’, an early-2010s meme that suggests games culture is being infiltrated by women who appear to superficially engage with games but are actually performing a gamer identity for male attention.15 In 2014, these anxieties came to a head with gamergate, a vast online and offline dramatic tragedy where prominent female game developers and journalists were targeted by mostly anonymous internet users on charges of ruining games culture. Incidents 210

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including online harassment campaigns,‘review-bombing’ of games by female developers, and stalking/doxxing took the conversation beyond fan spaces and into mainstream media. Gamergate is usually spoken of as a general culture war about the role of women in games, but it contains an inescapable sexual dimension – one of the targets, developer Zoe Quinn, was even accused of having relations with a games journalist to gain good reviews. Initially, the industry response was apprehensive: in October 2014, the ESA, which represents major developers and publishers including Ubisoft, as well as EA, Activision, Sony et al., issued a statement that, ‘Threats of violence and harassment are wrong,’16 but individual companies only made statements of their own when prompted in interview (EA’s Peter Moore to Forbes,17 Sony’s Shawn Layden to Venture Beat)18 with the exception of Blizzard’s Mike Morhaime, who alluded to the controversy without naming it in his Blizzcon opening keynote of 2014.19 Nevertheless, there was growing pressure from the media for publishers to address the controversy. Gamergate also forced these companies to consider the messaging in the games themselves. Many commentators made a direct link between the uniquely volatile online games culture and the violently misogynistic content of the games: Kate Edwards of the International Game Developers Association (IGDA) commented that, ‘Gaming culture has been pretty misogynistic for a long time now . . . It became so egregious that now companies are starting to wake up and say,“We need to stop this. This has got to change.” ’20 While it has always been difficult to confirm a direct link between discriminatory/violent behaviours in the real world and the consumption of violent messaging from screen media, successive moral crises cycle regularly around games,21 and sexual content is a particular locus for concern: Gina Lepore and Jill Denner observe that ‘at the heart of the approach to game design that includes sexual content is the belief that certain depictions of sexuality are inherently motivating’.22 Whether consciously or not, a course correction is clearly taking place in major games companies to tell stories about women and sex more responsibly. Of course, a leading publisher choosing to present enlightened visions of sex work is not just a matter of corporate social responsibility but a financial consideration too. Front page news stories about problematic fan culture in 2014 inevitably drew public attention to the more notorious content of games already on the market, and in December 2014 Target removed Grand Theft Auto V from its Australian stores following customer complaints about sexual violence.23 The possibility of further incidents like this will not have been lost on publishers, but there is also a clear incentive for making progressive content to appeal to the increasingly visible market of women gamers: as Adrienne Shaw observes, ‘Marginalized groups become reified by industrial logics that wish to shape texts to target niche markets.’24 A wider player base is up for grabs if publishers can produce more diverse stories, and while there are qualifying factors in the oft-quoted statement that ‘most gamers are female’ (the statistic does not necessarily hold up for the PC or console-based long form RPG player) there are simply many more women consuming games visibly in 2018 than ten years before. Publishers are responding not just to a new wave of critique but also in the interests of retaining female players and appearing as female-friendly brands; more responsible design is also a fast way to atone for past problematic content.25 211

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It is striking that a game set two and a half millennia ago should be doing this, but historical games, like any historical fiction, are well equipped to address modern anxieties. With their different political systems and strange mores, ancient worlds offer the freedom to explore alternative modes of society: that is part of their appeal. David Serrano Lozano dubs the past ‘a conceptual place between the familiar and the alien’.26 Its similarities and differences make space for utopian thinking and didactic parallels with our own times. Salvati and Bullinger term this picking out aspects of ancient culture and shoehorning in contemporary values ‘selective authenticity’ – a ‘narrative license in which an interactive experience of the past blends historical representation with generic conventions and audience expectations’.27 We see this selective authenticity at work throughout Odyssey as it folds complex and instable Classical archetypes into an essentially modern story about gender, sex and power.

Hetaerae and whores: Introducing the binary In male-dominated games culture, ‘whore’ is a common insult, and an accusation you can expect if you play online while identifiably female.28 This pejorative term for sex worker is used to condemn acts and behaviours in game spaces that give women any form of power. The ‘fake gamer girl’ is an ‘attention whore’ and her apparent game knowledge is just currency for attention.29 During gamergate, female game designers and journalists were accused of using sex for industry relevance. Whether the woman in question gets paid is irrelevant to users of the ‘whore’ pejorative: where femme identity and bodies generate any kind of advantage or gain, financial or otherwise, this is the work of the whore. ‘Whoredom’ in Odyssey is similarly more than one thing: for the hetaerae, it is sex exchanged for money and a full-time job. Aspasia, meanwhile, has gone from hetaera to consort of Perikles, using sexual exchange and underworld contacts to rise to a position of great political influence. Odyssey is quick to intercept player prejudice towards its ‘whores’ by setting out clearly and from the very first encounter their value: however, the way it confers value is dependent on their ‘respectable’ appearance and the implied quasisacredness of their work. In Greek the term hetaera is often understood to refer to ‘higher end’ prostitution – as distinct from the common pornae (sing. pornē). A similar aesthetic and moral stratification of sex work can be seen in the wide range of modern English terms (escorts, call girls, street-walkers). Although, in practice, the terms hetaera and pornē are not rigid and may be used interchangeably or to cover a number of different behaviours,30 by calling Anthousa’s community hetaerae, the game is playing into this binary, classing their work as more ‘high end’ than ‘commonplace’ prostitutes of the street. As the plaintiff of Apollodoros’ Against Neaera delineates, ‘Mistresses we keep for the sake of pleasure, concubines for the daily care of our persons, but wives to bear us legitimate children and to be faithful guardians of our households.’31 In this analogy, hetaerae are closest to the mistresses – they serve the more cerebral, holistic purpose of ‘pleasure’ than the sexual unloading that is the business of mere pornae. 212

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To further emphasize the eminence of these women, the player does not encounter them straight away but hears about them from a street prostitute in Korinth’s red-light district, who explains at length their special status while soliciting the Misthios to purchase her own more affordable services. This character is not referred to as pornē and is only named ‘Civilian’, but the distinction she makes between her work and the work of the hetaerae (plus dialect flourishes such as dropping the th- from ‘them’ to refer to ‘’em’) indicates her lower social status. The Civilian explains, ‘For them, it’s not just about the flesh. They’re merchants of a sort . . . can talk as nice as they look.’ Looking and sounding ‘nice’ (i.e. educated) creates a comforting ambiguity around their work which is not present in the street solicitations of the Civilian. The Civilian is essentially a signpost, providing directions to the player’s real goal: Anthousa, leader of the hetaerae. The Civilian remarks that, ‘Their sort are too high-andmighty to be down here in the dirt with us . . . You’ll find ’em up on the hill – the Akrokorinth. By the Temple, keeping Aphrodite’s worshippers satisfied.’ By positioning them adjacent to a place of worship, the hetaerae are associated with the very top of the hierarchy – the gods themselves (this may be an allusion to the concept of sacred prostitution, another supposed ancient practice that has excited historians but which is likely to be a literary construct). They’re also hard to access; your character must make an (in game terms) long and difficult climb up the hill, around three minutes of play to reach the peak of the Akrokorinth travelling directly, which indicates their greater narrative significance compared to the street-level pornē. They are a time-investment – in the language of games, a more difficult mission to complete. The Civilian is commonplace and widely available, the hetaera exclusive; as Leslie Kurke observes, the hetaerae/pornae binary is rooted in ‘aristocratic loathing for the commonality or universal availability of resources in the public sphere.’32 Both pro- and anti-sex work scholarship often centers on the issue of whether sex work can be considered ‘work’ and ‘skilled labour’. Ronald Weitzer notes that anti-sex work scholars reject that it is work, referring to ‘prostituted women’ rather than ‘prostitutes’ as a ‘wholesale denial of women’s agency in sexual commerce’.33 In the hetaerae/pornae binary, one of the key distinctions that give hetaerae more value than the pornae is that their work is a craft: elevated, skilled, requiring expertise. They may also develop longterm engagements with some clients. In Odyssey, the Civilian alludes to ‘study’ the hetaerae have undertaken over many years – she cannot become one herself because by the time she finishes she’ll be ‘serving clients on [her] death bed’. The concept of the learned hetaerae is an authentically classical construct: Kapparis identifies an interest in the education of the hetaera in ancient writings such as a passage in the Isostasion of Alexis using the word ‘technē’, ‘[portraying] prostitution as a craft like medicine, sculpture or rhetoric, with a specific set of skills that need to be carefully learned’.34 This allusion to study also recalls Socrates’ encounter with the hetaera Theodote in Xenophon’s Memorabilia, a striking passage in which Socrates not only discusses the unique skillset required of a sex worker but actually instructs her in the delicate art of seduction. Kapparis observes, ‘In a sense Socrates and Theodote are alike: both rely on the affection and benefactions of their friends, and both possess a sought-after commodity, which 213

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they are willing to share.’35 This unlikely sympatico between philosopher and hetaera – two equals sparring with one another from high standing in their parallel professions – is of course intended to be a little transgressive. But modern pro-sex worker scholarship employs the same rhetoric: that it is entirely equivalent to other professions which have been arbitrarily assigned a nobler reputation. It is also striking that the sex workers of Odyssey are not used to affirm a heterosexual male gaze for the player, and are lacking the hypersexualized presentation typical of mainstream game design – a presentation typified by Ubisoft’s own 2010 portrayal of courtesans in Brotherhood. In Odyssey, sex workers’ profession is not signposted by their clothes except for jewellery that perhaps indicates (someone’s) wealth: they are otherwise indistinguishable from other female NPCs. In this respect the game accurately reflects ancient practices: there doesn’t seem to have been a consistent set of markers that would signal a sex worker to Classical Greeks.36 There is some suggestion that a hetaera’s clothes might be expensive or paired with gifts of jewellery (Theodote and her girls are ‘expensively got up’; Olympiodorus’ mistress in Demosthenes’ Against Olympiodorus is ‘decked out with masses of jewels, going abroad in splendid state’)37 and that clothing might be plainer for pornae (Menander’s ex-prostitute Chrysis in Samia is said to have been in plain dress when her husband Demeas first meets her).38 But it is almost unheard of for a mainstream video game to miss an opportunity for hypersexualized outfits on characters who literally deal in sex, particularly when many games overtly sexualize female characters whose line of work is not at all sexual in nature.39 Indeed, the only function of sex workers in some games is to show skin: Anita Sarkeesian finds numerous examples of games that require the player to pass through a brothel or strip club where sex workers are ‘background decoration’, including Yakuza 4, Just Cause 2, Hitman: Absolution and Deus Ex: Human Revolution.40 The trope is also present in historical games, as Sian Beavers notes of RYSE: Son of Rome, in which a bordello scene provides visible nudity and heavily implied sex acts.41 Where RYSE is presenting sex workers in a historical context for prurience in 2013, Odyssey deliberately misses the opportunity in 2018. In this respect, Odyssey is highly unusual – a mainstream game featuring a lengthy appearance from sex workers you cannot have sex with and who, with the audio muted, you might not identify as sex workers at all. But it is part of the fantasy of ‘elevated’ sex worker that they seduce through coquettishness and code. A similar coyness is identified by Kurke in the texts that form the basis for the hetaera construct: Anaxilas’ observation that her work is ‘a favour’; Anakreon’s Thracian whore who Kurke notes is more persuaded than simply bought.42 In her conversation with Socrates, Theodote describes her working arrangement as a hazy exchange: ‘If anyone gets friendly with me and wants to be generous, that’s how I get my living,’ to which Socrates playfully responds, ‘It’s a splendid asset to have lots of friends.’43 Their euphemistic jousting is part of the hetaera’s work; her product desirable precisely because of the vagueness that clouds it. Because it is not reduced to the basest and baldest specifics but spoken of as an enigmatic contract, her employment is elevated enough to match Socrates’ own – they are now, as Simon Goldhill puts it, ‘two different practitioners of the wiles of desire’.44 But Socrates also hints that 214

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dishonesty and deception is at the heart of Theodote’s profession, and compares her to a spider in a web catching flies. Odyssey’s hetaerae have value because of the tidy presentation and high cost that shrouds their work in a cloak of decency – the pornae, who don’t have these tools to hand, are still down at street level, their fate unexplored.

Team hetaerae: families and allies Now that value has been assigned to the hetaerae, the game further clarifies its position, introducing a villain who embodies male anxiety towards the sexually liberated female. On arriving at the Akrokorinth, the Misthios finds hetaerae being attacked by thugs working for a local gangster known as The Monger. Your first task is to dispatch the assailants: this action positions the player as defender of the hetaerae, and you will continue to defend them for the next few game missions. Rescuing/protecting damsels in distress is of course established territory for games, but it takes on a new symbolism in the context of coordinated attacks on women post-gamergate, as does The Monger’s motivations: we are told he is targeting these women precisely because they have money and influence. An unnamed NPC observes: ‘[He craves] power . . . since the hetaerae bring in so much drachmae, he wants everything they control.’ Because the women have earned power through sexuality, they invoke male rage – mirroring the anxieties over how female gamers and streamers gain real-world influence. The game turns didactic: the player must now operate in defense of their sexuality and in doing so consent to an ideological position that their business is valid. There is no sexual reward for this defensive action. Again, in striking contrast to titles like Grand Theft Auto or The Witcher, the only transaction with sex workers is the ‘deal’ you strike with Anthousa to rid them of the Monger for a fair price. In this way Odyssey avoids the ‘Nice Guy Syndrome’ that Nicholas Ware identifies in games such as Dragon Age and Persona 4, where the performance of certain positive actions within the game ‘earns’ the player sex as a reward. It also avoids the ‘fantasy of exceptionalism’ Bonnie Ruberg catalogues in her 2019 study whereby some games allow the player to bypass paying for a sex worker’s services with in-game currency by doing a good deed, because ‘being a “real man” and a “good guy” means not compensating sex workers for their labour’.43 It is also possible that your Misthios may not be male at all – you can choose to play as a female avatar – removing the ‘protective male’ optics altogether and making your actions a sort of female solidarity. As well as enjoying the player’s protection, Anthousa’s hetaerae operate in a tight-knit quasi-family with clear and supportive leadership. This contrasts sharply with the fractious and messy dynamic of the Misthios’ own family: as the player tackles the main game objective of bringing their relatives back together, the hetaerae provide an alternative model of family, one that is perhaps stronger because of its female leadership and femme-coded, mutually supportive principles:46 the Civilian in Korinth asserts that ‘[they] all work as one – on equal footing’ adding that ‘Anthousa’s special. She talks – they listen’.47 The brothel as alternative family has some basis in real mother-and-daughter 215

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businesses in the Classical world, as well as the general association between the female owners of sex businesses and motherliness in Greek culture – Cohen identifies the use of words like mêtêr for women who run such businesses, as well as the occurrence of matronymic names for female sex workers where ‘regular’ women would take the names of fathers and husbands. Cohen concludes that, ‘for Athenians the stereotypical merchant of sex at Athens was female and maternal’.48 In Korinth, Anthousa displays this same maternal instinct, and is keenly aware of tensions among her girls – she commissions the Misthios to help one hetaera, Damalis, even though Damalis herself hasn’t intimated that anything is wrong – ‘I know these girls as well as I know myself. Something’s not right.’ This intuitiveness and sisterhood has curious echoes with some of the ways in which female players and streamers connect and support one another online. Streamers in particular earn their living under the gaze of a community that desires their labour but also sexualizes them, and in some cases threatens, stalks and harasses them. A Guardian article on Twitch gamers in 2017 notes that ‘women streamers have started banding together to help each other navigate the volatile space of online gaming’: ‘It’s really important to me to try to help [other streamers] out,’ Chelsea says. ‘Because I know it’s super hard when you first start and it’s really overwhelming.’ ‘We call it a stream team,’ Mia says. ‘And basically it’s four girls from all over the world and if we need advice or something weird is happening, which occasionally it does . . . we’re just there for each other.’49 The implications of ‘something weird’ are clear to any woman who has entered streaming spaces: sexual harassment, inappropriate parasocial relationships and stalking are all realities for women operating visibly online. The same coping mechanisms – discussing experiences, sharing advice and generally looking out for one another – are seen in Odyssey’s sex worker community. However, this ‘happy family’ presentation has the same sanitizing effect on the complex realities of the hetaerae’s lives as euphemistic dialogue – it further ‘makes decent’ their work, much as allusions to being a ‘family business’ sanitized sex work for ancient clients. Kapparis notes that in Against Neaera, which outlines the training of young hetaerae under brothel-owner Nikarete, ‘An aura of domesticity, brought about by the pretense that the girls had been brought up in a “family”, apparently enhanced their appeal.’50 This same coy veneer is at play in the presentation of mother Anthousa and her girls.

The whore behind the throne If Anthousa represents the savvy professional hetaera, Aspasia is the meretricious female at the highest position in society: the hetaera-queen. In various classical sources, both contemporary and Roman, Aspasia has been portrayed as the ultimate hetaera – a woman of clouded origin who came to Athens, infiltrated public life at the highest level, 216

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and played host to prominent writers and thinkers, as well as (supposedly) keeping her own brothel. In Lives, Plutarch draws together five centuries of such sources and concludes that ‘[her business] was anything but honest or even reputable’.51 Of course, the truth of these claims is not important here, only what they tell us about Classical attitudes to powerful women: as Cohen notes, they ‘illustrate the connection, in popular imagination, between meretricious commerce and female entrepreneurship’. In Aspasia, the figure of the woman who uses her body to gain power and whose intellectual brilliance is inextricably linked with her mastery of the business of fornication becomes a useful avatar for the game’s narrative agenda regarding sex and power. As well as Classical sources, Odyssey is drawing on the trope of the girl who fucks her way to the top – interestingly, so does Ubisoft’s portrayal of Cleopatra in 2017’s Assassin’s Creed: Origins, which is explored by Jane Draycott in chapter eleven of this volume – and is again indebted to concepts from film and television. ‘Aspasia’ is what Campbell terms the ‘Business Woman’ of screen media: ‘The prostitute who capitalizes on her assets . . . If she is ambitious she rises in the social scale along with the prosperity of her clientele – without ever being able fully to shake the stigma of the whore.’52 Like the regular hetaera, Aspasia’s operations are hinted at through knowing euphemism – as she remarks to the Misthios when they first meet, ‘We do what we must to survive, and there’s no shame in that. It’s how you got here – how I got here.’ Aspasia is drawing a connection between herself and the Misthios like Socrates to Theodote: killing for hire, like fornicating for hire, is work like any other. She further references her disreputable past when candidly admitting sympathy for the Misthios’ discomfort with fine clothes: ‘You never really get used to them.’ Aspasia may be very powerful, but she doesn’t truly fit in this space – you can take the girl out of the brothel, but whoredom is ingrained. Despite her past, Aspasia is immensely powerful. When she first appears at a symposium for Perikles, she observes the room of intellectuals with a satisfied half smile of dominance, prompting the assembled men to bow towards her. She gives the player tasks to complete that are compulsory for game progression – to meet with Anthousa in Korinth then connect with another shady character, Xenia the female pirate, who Aspasia says she called on ‘in a former life’ whenever she ‘needed something done, or someone found’. These two dubious connections give a glimpse of the vast network Aspasia operates across multiple cities: a web connecting Anthousa’s hetaerae to the elite halls of power. Aspasia’s spymaster role is coded as distinctly feminine – a system of woman-towoman whisperings and ‘dear friends’. Aspasia is brilliant because she’s a hetaera: she can pull strings and manipulate powerful men, but also summon networks of women for help. Her lover Perikles, the leader of Athens, is a gentler figure – in his first appearance, he is pelted with fruit while giving a speech in front of a mob. He seems weary and somewhat uxorious: when he invites the Misthios and his companion Herodotus to a symposium, Herodotus remarks, ‘I’m sure he’ll still ask Aspasia if it’s OK.’ Later, when the player visits Perikles at his sick-bed during the Plague of Athens, he is clearly finding Aspasia’s care overbearing (‘tell my Aspasia I was a good boy and took my drugs’, he says). He does not speak at all in his final appearance, as Deimos, the Misthios’ miscreant sibling, slits his throat. Odyssey makes it clear that Aspasia is the real leader, and that her 217

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power and influence comes from her talent for feminine duplicity and underworld connections – qualities that only a hetaera could have.

No place for a child The harmony of the hetaerae community is further compromised, and ultimately shattered, by the introduction of a child into the adult space. Phoibe is a girl on the cusp of adolescence who follows the Misthios on their adventures, becoming an assistant and emissary for Aspasia. It’s an odd role for a child, but although the Misthios mildly expresses misgivings, the other adults around her – almost all women – happily make use of her labour. Although Phoibe is to some extent worldly (when she is briefly kidnapped, she glibly remarks, ‘It wasn’t so bad. Last time, they put a cloth in my mouth so I’d stop biting’) we are repeatedly reminded of her child status. We see her on the door admitting guests to Perikles’ symposium or sneaking into the home of one of Damalis’ clients to steal weapons, but we also see her playing with Chara, a child’s toy bird given to her by her deceased mother. Toys indicate more sharply the childhood of their owner in an ancient Greek context: there was a custom of giving them away as votives to deities as a transitional ritual, with boys giving them up at puberty and girls when marrying. Phoibe is given tasks that specifically draw her to the fringes of adult business: while delivering Aspasia’s messages to Anthousa, she is swept up in the shocking ‘To Help a Girl’ quest, where she follows the Misthios to a strange house. The player finds chains, oil and a lock of hair on the floor – as well as marks of blood. It becomes apparent that the house is a sex andron where non-consenting women are abused by The Monger. Although acts of abuse are not shown, and it is clear from later dialogue that Phoibe does not see inside the house, this storyline nevertheless puts a minor in extraordinary proximity to sexual violence. The inevitability of harm around sex workers is a well-established trope in screen culture, as Campbell identifies: ‘Again and again . . . films go through the ritual of targeting for death the woman who creates trouble for the patriarchal order . . . She is to be put to death because of the disturbance she causes.’53 This trope has transferred unquestioningly to games like Grand Theft Auto, but Odyssey complicates the pattern – you are able to protect Damalis from a brush with death, but the horrible way she would have died is still made shockingly explicit. The game makes it clear that death stalks women who sell sex, and inevitably, death comes to Phoibe: she is murdered by the Cult in the Odeon of Perikles, having been sent into the rioting crowds of plague-ridden Athens on an errand. The violence that has been brewing around the hetaerae finally bursts forth, claiming an innocent victim as penance for the activities of adult women – they accept the risk to their own lives, but Phoibe is too young to truly consent, and becomes an innocent sacrifice. Her death is an inevitable outcome of her close contact with the death-tainted hetaerae. Phoibe’s dual existence, half adult, half child, and the uncomfortable ambiguity it creates, is brought to an end in a theatrical space: a venue that would be accessible to a hetaera, but not to most women. The Misthios crouches over her dead body and places 218

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her toy bird in her hands: the scene ends on a close up of the bird, now a votive symbolizing the death of innocence. Tainted by association with sex workers, there can be no viable safe adulthood for Phoibe: she must die.

The hetaera punished Because Aspasia’s power rests on whorish deception, it is inevitable that it should be corrupt. The revelation that Aspasia is the leader of the villainous Cult of Kosmos comes as little surprise: we have already seen from Socrates’ instructions to Theodote that deception was thought to be essential to the hetaera’s success. In Hyperides, Against Athenogenes, Epicrates condemns the prostitute consort Antigone’s duplicity as somehow intrinsic to her nature. Like Aspasia, she appears entirely plausible: the plaintiff admits that he trusted Antigone because ‘she took the most solemn oaths.’54 Epicrates appeals to the misogyny of his fellow men of the jury, pleading that he fell for age-old feminine tricks: ‘Perhaps there is nothing very surprising, gentlemen of the jury, in my having been taken in like this by Antigone, a woman who was, I am told, the most gifted courtesan of her time . . .’55 Aspasia, too, has been hiding at the very front of the narrative: she is sexually promiscuous, clever and powerful: isn’t it obvious? She has gone beyond the bounds of acceptable female behaviour: more transgressive still, her motivation for joining the Cult is specifically to combat old patriarchies with her feminine new order: ‘the powers that be in the Greek world weren’t doing things the right way. The cult just wanted a clean slate.’ Aspasia’s crime is attempting to sweep out old (male) power structures on the principle that mother knows best. ‘It’s not crazy, it’s enlightened. Once people in Athens get wind of this they’ll come to know they’ve wanted it all along.’ Her approach to the sickly Perikles is the same overbearing approach she has taken to her wider domain: the whole of Greece, which she is similarly force-feeding its medicine. By pinning corruption to Aspasia, Odyssey justifies her defeat, giving the player an excuse for violence. After a climactic battle, the player must choose to spare her, kiss her (and spare her), or kill her. The choice has little bearing on the remaining narrative, but conveniently hands the moral judgement to the player. Online community discussions on Steam reveal overwhelming player bloodlust: on a post asking users to share their ‘Cult leader choices’, user Ficelle admits, ‘I killed this snake without hesitation . . . Pretty, but totally evil, very manipulative and not to be trusted.’56 Players’ reactions reveal common instincts for blackly comic Grand Theft Auto-style violence (ffernandesandre: ‘I removed my weapon and punched her for like 5 [minutes]’), abuse (user The Father swerves community rules on slurs with the comment ‘killed the B . . .’) and longing to perform the mate-and-kill routine (‘Killed her without a second thought . . . wish there was an option to kiss her and then kill her . . . heheh.’) The language used by Darkdisciple1313, meanwhile, is tellingly phallic: ‘All Cult members taste the point of the 219

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spear.’ Of course, the ‘real’ Aspasia – the one constructed by classical sources – died somewhere around the start of the fourth century bce , at least another twenty years after the events of Odyssey. On this point, the game entirely drops its attempts to be historically accurate in favour of a much stronger narrative imperative: the violent expulsion of the anxiety caused by the hetaera-queen.

Conclusion Sex workers have been present in games from the earliest console days, from Mystique’s unlicensed adult games of the 1980s to the most critically acclaimed RPG adventures of the 2010s like Red Dead Redemption 2 and The Witcher: Wild Hunt. Across decades and genres, questionable tropes have taken hold, many of them contracted from other screen media like cinema and TV. But, after a slew of bestselling games took these tropes to extremes as an expression of detached irony and ‘post-PC’, there are now signs of a path forward for honest, unsensational and humane representation. Odyssey is undoubtedly part of this progress – even if the cogs are often visible in its attempts to be didactic, it is somewhat able to reimagine sex work beyond the most damaging movie clichés. It is also only fair to acknowledge that the game’s wider discussions of sex, including the many optional ‘romance’ subplots, are often inclusive, healthy and most importantly fun – an aspect of sexuality that mainstream games have often neglected. Odyssey’s failure is in finishing this work. Under the pressure of triple A game production, falling back on ageold narratives of female sexuality punished with violence certainly ties off loose ends quickly, but it may leave many players disappointed. There is much talk of ‘empathetic design’ in games, but even more informed design could radically push forward the medium in its storytelling: (fairly compensated) conversations with sex workers themselves are surely the bare minimum. Developers should reject stereotypes about sex workers that are ripped from other screen media: games as a whole would benefit from using the unique storytelling opportunities of the medium to make its own standards for how it deals with sensitive and complex topics. Last, more research is required into how new narratives might impact sex workers positively. What does it look like for a sex worker to be treated as just another character, for example? What if sex work is incidental to their characterization, rather than a positive or a negative?

Notes 1. Campbell (2006: 3). 2. Hart (2015). 3. Ronald Weitzer terms this ‘the empowerment paradigm’ which holds ‘that there is nothing inherent in sex work that would prevent it from being organised for mutual gain to all parties – just as in other economic transactions’ (2012): 7).

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Female Sex Workers 4. Mgbako (2020). Amnesty’s declaration that ‘Sex Workers’ Rights Are Human Rights’ in 2015 has become a commonly used hashtag in feminist activism on social media. 5. Gamesindustry International (2006). 6. Glazebrook (2006: 126). 7. Cohen (2015). 8. Philemon Adelphoi – this section of the work does not survive but is referred to by later writers. It demonstrates that there is a logical theoretical connection between successful democracy and the availability of purchased sex – i.e. if Solon himself considered it necessary to a democracy then it must be so. 9. Cohen (2015: 138). 10. Schofield (2020). 11. Entertainment Software Association (2019). 12. ISFE (2019). 13. Kavanagh (2019). 14. Ruberg (2020). 15. In Chapter 4 of this volume, Goad discusses how fantasy games both pre- and post-gamergate frequently present female sexuality as the predatory siren-lure of the monstrous-feminine, echoing gamers’ fears about sex work within ‘their’ community. 16. Tsukayama (2014). 17. Gaudiosi (2015). 18. Takahashi (2014). 19. Brightman (2014). 20. Kelleher (2015). 21. Mills (2015: 96–7). 22. Lepore and Denner (2016: 286). 23. BBC Technology (2014). 24. Shaw (2015: 18). 25. It is also worth stating that a publisher producing broadly ‘feminist’ content does not override their track record as employers of women – see Draycott in Chapter 11. 26. Lozano (2020: 172). 27. Salvati and Bullinger (2013: 154). 28. Ruberg (2020). 29. Huntemann observes that ‘Knowledge of comics (or games) is the currency required for entrance into geekdom.’ With this currency, or the appearance of it in ‘fake gamer girl’ performance, women are thought to access power, cultural visibility, influence in the community and career opportunities (ibid., 2017). 30. Kapparis (2017: 2). 31. Demosthenes 59.122. 32. Kurke (1997: 127). 33. Weitzer (2012: 12). 34. Kapparis (2017: 51). 35. Ibid., 49. 221

Women in Classical Video Games 36. Cohen (2015: 23). 37. Demosthenes 48.55. 38. Menander Samia 378. 39. Downs and Smith (2010). 40. Sarkeesian (2014). 41. Beavers (2020a: 268). 42. Kurke (1997: 112). 43. Xen. Mem. 3.11.4–6. 44. Goldhill (1998: 120). 45. Ruberg (2019: 315). 46. In the next chapter of this volume, Kate Cook identifies a similar portrayal of sex-worker communities as supportive spaces where women can gain agency in the 2018 game Choices: A Courtesan of Rome. 47. Contrast this with 2010’s Brotherhood, in which the courtesan community is bristling with suspicion: their former proprietor Madame Solari had been double-dealing with the Borgias, and the new Mother confides in the player that ‘several of those who work with us sleep with the enemy still’. 48. Cohen (2015: 140). 49. Convery (2017). 50. Kapparis (2017: 50). 51. Plut. Per. 24.3. 52. Campbell (2006: 207). 53. Ibid., 361. 54. Hyperides 3.2. 55. Ibid., 3.3. 56. All posts referenced found at: https://steamcommunity.com/app/812140/ discussions/0/1748980761805977828/ (accessed June 2020).

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CHAPTER 15 ‘IT’S THE MOST FREEDOM A WOMAN CAN HAVE’: GENDER, GENRE AND AGENCY IN CHOICES: A COURTESAN OF ROME Kate Cook

Mobile gaming is one of the largest, fastest-growing areas of the gaming industry, making up 60 per cent of revenue for the global video game market in 2019, with estimated growth of 10.2 per cent year on year.1 Mobile games are furthermore associated with the widest demographic range of players, since mobile games are accessible to anyone with a smart phone, rather than requiring a gaming PC or console to play.2 Yet, these types of games have so far not been fully considered by research into the representation of antiquity in games, which often excludes them to focus on PC or console games.3 This chapter therefore puts the spotlight back on mobile gaming by considering the portrayal of women in the game Choices: Courtesan of Rome. Choices: Stories You Play (2016), by Pixelberry studios, is a mobile game available on Android and iOS. It features a wide range of playable ‘books’ across a range of settings, each with slightly different game features and different stories, although the primary mechanics remain the same, and there is a strong romance element in most books.4 Players play through ‘chapters’ (originally released serially, often weekly) to progress the story, choosing dialogue options or actions at key points to advance the game. Although the broad strokes of the story remain the same, these choices can have an ongoing impact on the results of the game, including character relationships or aspects of the game’s ending. Microtransactions allow players to buy either ‘keys’ which unlock the ability to play more than two chapters in one session (otherwise players must wait for three hours for keys to recharge) or buy ‘diamonds’ to use to unlock bonus scenes (often romantic) or outfits which may make it possible to gain bonus points on the book’s checks. Diamonds can otherwise be gained by completing chapters or watching adverts within the game. Pixelberry Studios, the creators of Choices, founded in 2012, produced two of the first examples of this genre of game, Surviving High School and Cause of Death, before developing the popular High School Story, for which the studio worked with the charity Cybersmile to address the issue of bullying through the game, and the National Eating Disorders Association to tackle issues of body image and eating disorders, both with the stated aim of enabling players to be comfortable talking about these issues in their own lives.5 This socially conscious approach to writing their games has been maintained; Pixelberry describe their work as ‘story-driven games with heart’, with a clear focus on representation and social issues.6 Choices’ positioning of the player in the footsteps of a wide variety of characters to experience their story in fact also aligns closely with the 223

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type of diverse narratives which Shira Chess has identified as a key aspect of the feminist potential of videogames.7 Choices: A Courtesan of Rome, was released 2018–19.8 The game is set in a compressed version of 49–44 bc – the first chapter occurs as Caesar crosses the Rubicon, and the game ends with the assassination of Caesar in 44 bc, although the impression of time given is of a few weeks or months rather than years.9 The game’s plot is described as follows: Make your debut as a courtesan in Ancient Rome and plot your vengeance against Julius Caesar for his conquest of your homeland.10 The player can only play as a female character,11 although they have a choice of face (including a choice of skin tone), hairstyle, clothes and names.12 The game’s lead writer, Jennifer Hepler, explained that Arin needed to meet the requirements of the ‘archetypal Choices protagonist’, who is nearly always female.13 The question for the writers of A Courtesan of Rome, therefore, was how to work around the limitations of the setting in Republican Rome, and have a female lead who told the story the writers wished to tell, without the players’ agency being circumscribed. Making Arin a courtesan aimed to provide a model of female power and agency in this setting, as well as giving her a story arc of rising from her enslavement to a position of significant influence, desirable for Hepler in planning the game’s story.14 This model of power and influence is introduced to Arin and the player via a flashback scene where Arin arrives at the ‘schola’ run by Lena, a courtesan who boasts that her influence previously caused Sulla to march on Rome.15 In a conversation with Arin, when Arin asks ‘what power is there in serving men?’ Lena responds: ‘Men control everything in Rome. To wield our own power, we must control them.’16 The model of duplicitous, behind-the-scenes female power here is found in other representations of female characters of the ancient world, both in video games and beyond.17 Marc Antony’s presence in the game as one of the main four love interests,18 may also have shaped the development of the female main character, since he has traditionally been associated with courtesans.19 The financial model of the game further contributed to the choice by the writers to have the main character be a courtesan. Choices’ diamond purchases offer the player either extra scenes, particularly romantic or sexual, or outfits (see Figure 15.1). The main character’s situation therefore had to allow for the purchase of these kinds of scenes, and while outfits as a purchasing option were available to other female Roman characters,20 the need for sexual scenes would have been harder to balance.21 Thus, in Choices: A Courtesan of Rome Pixelberry Studies are working with a rather different set of player expectations and generic pressures than many of the games discussed in this volume. Choices games default to female, not male, for their main characters, and players expect a significant degree of positive representation and agency within the game.22 Furthermore, the financial model of the game means that character design and writing must allow for the kinds of purchasing options upon which the game 224

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Figure 15.1 Purchasing outfits or additional scenes. Screenshot from Choices: A Courtesan of Rome.

relies financially; the app itself is free, so the financial motivators are rather different to those driving a major game with a significant up-front cost.23 Staff working on the games may be the same; Hepler herself worked at Bioware on the major games Dragon Age: Origins and Dragon Age 2 before leaving to work on mobile games. Yet, the different genre and format of the mobile game provides an environment in which the portrayal of women differs dramatically from the other games discussed in this volume.24 At the same time, as this chapter will discuss, this environment allows for extended discussion of female agency and power throughout the game, in a further contrast with games in other genres.

Female agency in A Courtesan of Rome The handling of agency in a game like Choices is a complicated balance. On the one hand, players expect to be able to make ‘meaningful’ choices, particularly given the advertisement 225

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text of the game.25 On the other, Choices’ story-driven quality and limited gameplay elements means that the player’s choices are necessarily circumscribed: the player cannot choose entirely to depart from the course of the narrative, so, in reality, the main choices are either personal rather than purely plot-related (which characters become close friends or romantic interests), or in some books choices may lead to a slightly different ending for the game.26 In the case of A Courtesan of Rome, there was a further potential limit to the exercise of agency in the game: Arin’s status as a courtesan, victim of Caesar’s conquests, and as a woman, which could have been a limiting factor in gameplay set in Ancient Rome.27 Arin’s legal status is somewhat ambiguous. It is clear that Arin has been enslaved as part of the conquest of Gaul; she is marched through Rome as part of a triumph in the opening scenes of the book, and she talks explicitly of her and her family’s enslavement with other characters.28 When Arin is brought to the schola, Lena has her unchained and agrees with Arin’s angry assertion that Arin ‘will not be [her] slave’,29 later Arin describes this explicitly as being given her freedom.30 However, some practical tie between Arin and the schola still seems to exist, as Cassius’ or Antony’s ability to ‘hire’ Arin is never in question, nor does it seem to be the case that Arin has any explicit control over her work in this regard; all arrangements for Arin to, for example, attend a performance at the theatre or attend a dinner party are made through Lena.31 Furthermore, in the final chapters of the game, Xanthe, Arin’s rival at the schola, is sent against her will as a ‘permanent courtesan’ to the governor of Sicily by Lena, suggesting a degree of control beyond simply employment, although she has apparently also been manumitted. In many ways, the balance between the reality of objectification faced by many enslaved women in Republican Rome and the agency of the player is struck within the game optimistically in Arin’s favour. At the same time, agency is a persistent concern of the characters and the narrative of the game in a way which is highlighted throughout the player’s experience. In the first chapter of the game, which also serves as Arin’s ‘debut’, Lena reminds Arin upon introducing her to the assembled senators, ‘Remember, you need do nothing against your will.’ Similarly, in the flashback scene to Arin’s arrival, Lena can object to Arin’s comment about working with patrons, ‘I can guess how you expect me to “keep their interest” ’ with a denial: ‘I won’t ask you to do anything against your will, Arin.’32 This means that twice in the very first scenes of the book, as the player experiences them, the main character is reassured as to their right to consent to whatever will happen next.33 Nonetheless, Arin’s situation does leave her open to objectification by other characters, particularly some of the leading male characters. Strikingly, however, this objectification also becomes a point of comparison between the male characters in the game, and is often deployed as a method of criticism. Within the first chapter, Arin faces an encounter with ‘Senator Lucius’, who, while she is working at Cassius’ party, attempts to give her money in order to ‘sample the wares of Gaul’. Arin rejects Lucius, and the player can choose either to turn him down verbally or have Syphax physically restrain the senator, at which point the other attendees overhear the commotion caused. In either case, the objection is made on the basis that Arin is not Lucius’ ‘property’, since she is a ‘courtesan of Lena’s schola’. At this point, one of the game’s ‘checks’ is launched, particularly 226

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if Arin complains that Lucius’ treatment is degrading to her, Cassius, and Lena’s schola; if Arin’s Reputation has been made high enough by her behaviour at the party so far, then another senator in attendance, Cornelius, will complain that Lucius’ behaviour is ‘a terrible way to treat one of Lena’s finest courtesans’.34 Later in the game, there is a marked difference between the ways in which Arin is treated by Cassius and by Marc Antony, two of the four Love Interests and the only two Roman men. Cassius is keen to found his relationship with Arin on consent and mutual choice. In an early encounter, Cassius confesses, ‘It would mean everything to me if I thought you could care for me as a man and not just as a patron . . . After what Rome did to you . . . I never thought you would be with me by choice.’35 On the first opportunity for Cassius and Arin to consummate their relationship, Cassius waits for Arin to take the lead in their encounter, and explicitly asks Arin, ‘You are truly here of your own will? You wish this? You wish me, despite all that Rome has done to you?’36 In the same chapter Lena encourages Arin to pursue a relationship with Cassius on the basis that he truly cares for Arin, unlike some of her other potential patrons, and in Chapter 6 Cassius also notes his distaste for the traditional role of paterfamilias with the comment ‘How can you ever trust in the love of someone who fears what you can do to them?’ Antony, too, initially insists that he flirts with Arin in the hopes of gaining her independent interest, ‘If I wished only to buy you, my conversation would be with Lena. I was hoping perhaps to win something more.’37 In a later chapter, Lena congratulates Arin on being ‘the one thing in Rome which Antony wants but can’t have’, describing this as a freedom and power which Arin can use over Antony.38 Yet, in their first encounter, Antony describes Arin as ‘Lena’s merchandise,’39 and on multiple occasions in the following chapters Arin is described more as a possession of Antony’s than an independent women.40 Finally, when Arin bargains with Antony for the lives of her father and Syphax, who are fighting in the arena, Antony reveals a plan to send Arin to Caesar as a ‘tribute’ or ‘gift’ and an informant, claiming that he is troubled by Caesar’s closeness with Cleopatra.41 Arin’s responses to this plan vary, depending on the relationship which has been established with Antony by this stage of the game: if it is romantic, with their conversation following a seduction of Antony by Arin, then they can talk of this as a shared plan, and Antony expresses sorrow for the risk to Arin. If not, then Arin responds angrily: ‘You cannot “give me” to Caesar. I’m a free woman!’ Alarmingly, Antony then threatens Arin, ‘That could change,’ before declaring that there will be no ‘need’ for this ‘if you offer yourself willingly’. There is clear coercion here which undermines any sense of Arin’s being ‘willing’: Antony threatens Arin with enslavement and barters the lives of her father and Syphax in return for Arin’s agreement. Furthermore, since the game cannot proceed to the next chapters without Arin’s agreement, the player’s consent to this bargain is also effectively forced; Antony will refuse to offer an alternative option if Arin asks for one, and the game forces agreement to the deal in order to progress with the chapter.42 The player is presented with a potential choice, therefore, between a Love Interest in Cassius who fully respects and promotes Arin’s agency and consent, and Marc Antony, who will not always demonstrate the same concerns. In the presentation of this 227

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choice between the two Roman male Love Interests the player’s attention is explicitly drawn to the question of Arin’s agency and how it may be maintained.43 At other times, Arin’s status as a courtesan, despite the enslavement which has led to it, is explicitly discussed in the game as itself a source of freedom and agency, and, in particular, access to freedoms which otherwise women could not access.44 In her first scene with Lena, this freedom is promised as the results of becoming a courtesan: ‘It gives you freedom. More freedom than any woman in Rome. As a courtesan, you alone can go unescorted into the spaces where men decide our lives.’45 This idea is further emphasized in conversations with Sabina, the wife of a Roman legate, with Arin potentially describing her role as, ‘The most freedom a woman can have,’46 although the player does not have to adopt this view if another dialogue option is chosen (see Figure 15.2). Arin also connects being a courtesan to freedom to move around the city in a way Sabina does not experience: ‘That is one of the freedoms of being a courtesan. We can

Figure 15.2 The freedom of a courtesan? Screenshot from Choices: A Courtesan of Rome. 228

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travel when and where we want without a man’s permission.’47 Later in the game, once Arin has been reunited with her father and Syphax, and they are planning the murder of Aquila, Arin’s freedom of movement is again invoked and associated explicitly with her work as a courtesan: ‘This is what I have built my reputation for. You will never be able to go where the best courtesan in the city is allowed,’ a claim which Syphax immediately supports.48 In Arin’s case, becoming a courtesan is also repeatedly associated with power, a claim she makes explicitly to Aquila: ‘All you did by selling me to Lena was to turn me into the most powerful woman in Rome. I learned to write, and speak Latin, and to influence the leaders of the known world.’49 Arin’s father similarly describes her to Aquila as, ‘The one you sold as a slave, who now has more influence than you.’50 The degree of influence Arin has been gathering as a courtesan is emphasized at key moments and connected to the gameplay through the Reputation dynamic. In A Courtesan of Rome, the Reputation/Wiles dynamic is one of the gameplay elements which players’ choices may affect. Choices in dialogue which involve Arin hiding her distaste for the Romans and responding politely to them, or emphasizing her popularity in Rome, gives points for her Reputation, while choices which are crafty or deceptive, particularly those that play on Arin’s seductive skills, give points for Wiles. Passing Reputation checks can help Arin sway those around her to her cause.51 Reputation and Wiles are also explicitly connected in dialogue to her relationship with Antony, since upon losing Antony’s favour in chapter 15, if the player has successfully built enough reputation, Lena will reassure Arin that since she is the ‘premier courtesan in all Rome’, Antony will recognize that she ‘begs for no man’s favour’. In the following chapters, Arin’s ability to pass a Wiles check will enable her romantic relationship with Antony to continue even if she has been simultaneously pursuing other Love Interests. These Wiles checks are a gameplay dynamic which reflect the association both by her and by other characters, particularly Syphax, with the courtesan’s ability to deceive, thus giving her the means to act against Caesar.52 The first lines of the game are Arin’s thought: ‘Smile, be charming, and never let them know that you all want them dead,’ thus immediately introducing this deceptive element. Her role in the assassination of Caesar will be to distract Antony and manipulate him into staying away from the Basilica, something Brutus describes as ‘a fair role for a woman like Arin to play’,53 thus explicitly recognizing the deceptive aspects of this role and their compatibility with her usual occupations. Syphax too connects his ability to ‘smile and deceive’54 with his long association with Lena and Arin. Arin’s role as a courtesan is also connected explicitly to the ability to survive, both in Arin’s conversations with her father, where they treat this as a role she had to perform in order to survive and reunite with her family, and then again in one of the game’s final scenes with Cassius, when Arin claims ‘Survival is a courtesan’s virtue. It requires no honor.’55 At the same time, the inclusion of Sabina’s experiences as a free Roman woman adds nuance to the game’s presentation of women’s agency in Republican Rome. Sabina’s view of the lives of women is explicitly raised in the penultimate chapter: ‘That’s what the world does . . . It throws chains on good women. And if they struggle, it eats them alive.’ The player’s first experience of Sabina immediately indicates her limited agency; she is introduced in chapter 1, when she comes to Cassius’ house, but expresses immediate 229

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discomfort at the party and leaves without even delivering a message. Similar discomfort is then expressed at a further party at Cassius’ house, when accompanying her husband to a popina, and through demonstration of her unwillingness to walk home alone in the evenings.56 Early discussions with Sabina frame this limited agency in terms of what is suitable for a woman of her status; she justifies her departure from the dinner party as a necessity, explaining to Arin, ‘I should not be unescorted when there are strange men inside.’57 In the later chapters, Arin and the player will find out that Sabina is in an abusive relationship; her husband limits her movements excessively due to jealousy, and in a scene at the market she expresses that even her options for shopping have been limited due to his fear of her catching the eye of another man while away from the house. She also reveals that she cannot divorce him, for fear of her father’s abuse.58 Sabina’s story thus far indicates some of the darker realities of the lives of Rome’s women. Her progression across A Courtesan of Rome, conversely, is one of slowly growing agency. Her exposure to Arin enables her to step physically into locations where she had previously not been comfortable (such as the Market, the docks, or outside Rome).59 The support that Sabina receives from Arin also finally emboldens her to stand up to her husband.60 Sabina’s agency is further connected to her contact with Locusta, a Gallic wise woman who supplies poisons and other drugs to Arin.61 Sabina’s initial contact with Locusta comes when she seeks contraception, as a way of preventing the extension of her husband’s reach over both her life and the life of a future innocent.62 By the end of the game, Sabina claims of Arin and Locusta that, ‘Because of the two of you, I’m . . . finally not scared,’ and she will take over from Locusta in running the apothecary once her husband is either dead or exiled. Sabina’s growing agency also demonstrates a persistent pattern in the portrayal of women across A Courtesan of Rome. On multiple occasions, it is women’s bonds with women which provide the most significant support and agency to women. Lena’s manumission of Arin, and her promise that Arin (and by extension the player) should not act against her own will are key in establishing the extent of Arin’s agency early, and give her the ability to object to Lucius’ behaviour in the first chapters of the book.63 Arin’s association with Locusta provides her with a means to vengeance, practically through the poisons she supplies, as well as advice and support from another female figure.64 Arin’s skills with poisons, and her faith or ritual knowledge if the player chooses to pursue these, are also connected to her learning from her mother. It is Sabina’s entry into the female-oriented space of Locusta’s shop which enables her to fully connect with Arin; at their prior meeting in Cassius’ house their conversation is much briefer. Later on, Sabina is found learning from Locusta, who describes her knowledge something she has ‘only taught to women’,65 and when Sabina takes on Locusta’s role she describes her aims as helping other girls and women in ‘difficult situations’, particularly those suffering at the hands of their fathers or husbands.66 Similarly, Lena warns both Arin and Xanthe about the risk to them of trusting their safety to men, in their position.67 Arin’s mother, Delphinia, similarly benefits from the networks of women she establishes, most notably, in the group of young female initiates to the cult of Isis who she teaches, and who then help to free her from an unkind (and impious) priestess in the temple in Macedon where 230

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she is enslaved, and travel with her to Egypt in support of her vision quest.68 In this regard, A Courtesan of Rome again presents a strong contrast with many games and other modern media, particularly those with a historical setting, where when female characters do exist, they are often surrounded by male characters, so that it is rare to see positive female networks and communications established.69 It is, of course, not exclusively the case that agency in A Courtesan of Rome is achieved through female action and networks. While these networks are repeatedly positive for both the main character and the other female characters in the game, it is the male characters, particularly Cassius and Antony, whose involvement with the main character are most significant for advancing the plot. Furthermore, in chapter seven, the additional outfit for purchase is a soldier’s armour, allowing Arin to disguise herself as a man to enter the senate basilica and listen to the meeting about Caesar’s impending return to Rome. Without this disguise, that is, if Arin remains as a woman, she cannot access this meeting and must listen from outside. As a result, some of the limits of Arin’s agency are inscribed specifically by her gender (if not the player’s agency, which is limited only by their willingness to spend the in-game currency on the outfit and associated scene). Furthermore, there are some significant examples of negative female-female relationships represented in the game, in the forms of Xanthe, Arin’s fellow courtesan, Cleopatra, and the priestess whom Delphinia struggles against for control of a temple of Ceres. Xanthe in particular is presented as a rival of Arin’s from the early scenes of the game. She is jealous of Arin’s success, particularly given her own extensive training,70 and unsympathetic towards Arin’s past experiences.71 She also actively works against Arin on multiple occasions, by attempting to seduce Cassius away from his interest in Arin, by spreading rumours about Syphax and Arin, and finally by claiming to Antony that Arin and Cassius have ‘plotting against Caesar’ (ironically, before the actual plotting takes place), which causes Antony to become angry with Arin, and to dismiss her in favour of Xanthe. Xanthe’s exile results from her intention to betray Arin and Cassius once more, this time to Caesar himself. Xanthe’s spite and jealousy are often revealed as shallow and self-serving.72 However, in many ways, this diversity of female experience and characterization is itself a positive factor: by increasing the number of female characters in the game, A Courtesan of Rome manages to represent the good and the bad (although rarely the ugly, given the genre) and have women playing a wide variety of roles throughout the narrative.73 This chapter has only scratched the surface of Choices: A Courtesan of Rome’s interactions with history and cultural ideas about its Roman context. However, in doing so, it demonstrates the importance of considering mobile games among other types of video game when we look at the reception of the Classical World. Given the large audiences for this kind of game, they can be a key factor in how players are discovering and interpreting the ancient world. At the same time, as this chapter has shown, their player and developer expectations, as well as the genres of game produced, can lead to a vastly different model for the representation of women in the games compared to those ‘core’ console or PC games more commonly considered in this kind of discussion. A Courtesan of Rome is not necessarily (nor does it purport to be) a feminist account, 231

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but by highlighting women’s lives, relationships and behaviours, including a female protagonist, and by explicitly raising questions of women’s agency and power, it provides a degree of engagement with the lives and experiences of women which is rarely seen among video games set in the ancient world.

Notes 1. Kaplan (2019). 2. See Willson and Leaver (2016: esp. 1–4); and on the difficulties of mapping some of these new audiences onto the label of ‘gamer’, see Shaw and Chess (2016: 283–5). 3. See, for example, Rollinger (2020a: 22) – no chapter in Rollinger (2020c) covers a mobile game. Similarly, while Clare (2021) does consider the visual novel (141–56), he does not examine examples of mobile games. A distinction (often unhelpful) between casual and ‘hardcore’ games which excludes or separates out casual games, including mobile games, is common in academic writing on games more generally and in games journalism – see further Chess and Paul (2019), and for the construction of the distinction in the games industry as a whole, Cote (2020: 23–55). 4. It is one of several ‘narrative’ games which have become popular as a genre of mobile game since 2018 – see Suckley (2018). 5. Lien (2014). 6. ‘About’, https://www.pixelberrystudios.com/about (29 May 2021). In 2020, as a response to the events of the Black Lives Matter (BLM) movement in America, and player comments they were receiving, Oliver Miao, the founder and CEO of Pixelberry released a statement reiterating the studio’s commitment to diversity of representation across the books and hiring practice, and desire to improve their work in this area further – see: https://www. pixelberrystudios.com/blog/2020/6/15/representation-at-pixelberry (29 May 2021). In 2021, Choices also featured a story about climate change, inspired by Greta Thunberg, at: https:// www.pixelberrystudios.com/blog/2020/10/27/rising-tides (29 May 2021), as part of the UN Playing for the Planet initiative: https://playing4theplanet.org/pixelberry-studios/ (29 May 2021). Pixelberry Studios are not the only company demonstrating this kind of awareness: a recent collection described the increase in socially engaged games as ‘video game culture . . . finally starting to grow up’ (Goldberg and Larsson 2015: 8–10). 7. Chess (2020: 95–100). 8. I am very grateful to Jennifer Hepler, the lead writer of A Courtesan of Rome, for agreeing to talk to me about the processes behind the game development and writing while I was working on this chapter (2021). 9. This was partly the result of Hepler leaving the company, and the game being given a compressed one-volume release instead of the original plan for two volumes (Hepler, personal Interview, March 2021.) 10. Choices: A Courtesan of Rome (2018). 11. At the time of writing, 70 of the 110 available books for Choices are ‘gender-locked’ with the main character as female – 40 allow the player to choose a gender, and none are locked to a male main character. 12. The default name for the player character, the ‘courtesan’ of the title, if the player does not provide their own preferred name, is ‘Arin’ of the Catauni (the tribe’s name is also customizable).

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Gender, Genre and Agency 13. Hepler, personal interview, March 2021. Hepler also felt that it was very important that the story be specific to a female main character, particularly as regards the uniqueness of agency available to Arin in comparison to other women; if the player could also choose a male prostitute, the status and situation of the main character would not match the story which the writers wished to tell. As Wohn (2011) has shown, the use of a female protagonist is much more common in casual games than in ‘hardcore’ games. 14. Hepler, personal interview, March 2021. In planning this story arc, Hepler was influenced by the Boudica novels by Manda Scott; she also cited HBO’s Rome (2005–7), thus reflecting the ways in which video games often present a view of the ancient world mediated through other receptions (see further Lowe 2009: 68–71). 15. Chapter 17. Lena’s name is a reference to the role of the lena or ‘procuress’ in ancient Rome. Her (briefly mentioned) connection with Sulla reflects the narratives of prostitutes (such as Praecia) involved in politics at the time of Sulla, although these are generally arrayed against the dictator rather than with him. See further on these narratives Rauh (2011: 198–200). 16. This is not an inaccurate representation of the potential influence of a successful courtesan; Strong (2016: 64) describes them as having ‘potentially more indirect power than any other non-elite woman in Roman society’. 17. See Tuplin in this volume. Hepler commented to me that this was not a model of power which Pixelberry makes use of in its books with a modern setting, so this image of female power through deception and manipulation was one particularly connected in her view to the historical context (Helper, personal interview, March 2021). 18. The others are Arin’s bodyguard, Syphax and Sabina, the wife of the legate who enslaved Arin. 19. Cicero Att. 10.10.5 and more vituperatively Philippics 2.58–61. For more on Cytheris, see Keith (2011). Antony himself was accused by Cicero of prostitution in the Philippics: 2.44–5. Cytheris is also reported to have had an association with Marcus Brutus (Vir. Ill. 82.2), which may have been a further inspiration given Arin’s association with the assassins of Caesar in A Courtesan of Rome. 20. Given that prostitutes seem to have been marked in Roman society by their elaborate clothing (Edwards 1993: 81), they are particularly suited to this kind of outfit purchasing mechanic. Married women, by contrast, are reminded not to adorn themselves too fully or risk seeming available for adultery in Seneca’s Controversiae 2.7.3–4. 21. Hepler, personal interview, March 2021. 22. A contrast here is presented with Ubisoft’s approach to Assassin’s Creed: Odyssey, an AAA game released in the same year and also set in the ancient world – a female-only main character was originally proposed, but the developers were told that this would not be an option, due to an attitude that female protagonists ‘would not sell’ (Schreier 2020). 23. On the changes to the gaming industry and development that have occurred due to the rise of mobile and casual gaming and their financial models, Willson and Leaver (2016) is a particularly useful collection, see also Cote (2020: 42–5). 24. Significantly, Hepler cited the desire to work on different types of games with different player expectations as being behind the move, with a view to avoiding the ‘male power fantasy’ of major commercial games (quoted in Crecente (2016)). Hepler’s departure from Bioware was also connected by many to the pattern of cases of serious harassment of women working in the video game industry, for which see Sarkeesian and Cross (2015: 110–11, 120–1). 25. The Google Play Store ‘About this game’ text for Choices (28 May 2021) reads: ‘Fall in love or go on adventures in stories where YOU control what happens!’

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Women in Classical Video Games 26. This is a common issue of writing for video games more generally – see further Bateman (2021: 91–3). In A Courtesan of Rome, the main character is always successfully involved in the assassination of Caesar, but her choices have an impact on whether she reunites with her whole family, which romantic interest she ends the game with, and therefore which life she will pursue beyond the game, although the player does not have the opportunity to experience any of her potential future fates. 27. The setting raises other issues for the Pixelberry team as regards player experience: the book is preceded with the warning that the game ‘takes place in a historical time period with very different views on violence, slavery, mistreatment of women, and animal sacrifice. These and other mature themes will be explored. Player discretion is advised.’ Furthermore, multiple chapters are preceded with a more specific content note warning the player that the material to follow is potentially distressing, particularly before scenes detailing Sabina’s experiences of abuse and child marriage, and threatened or attempted sexual assault on Arin. 28. Chapter 1. Keith (2011: esp. 30–2) demonstrates effectively how many of the literary narratives and real figures of ‘courtesans’ in Late Republican Rome were influenced by the imperial conquests of Rome and the influx of enslaved or freed women into Roman society through these, although these are more usually from the Greek world rather than Gaul, as is Arin. 29. Chapter 1. 30. Chapter 20. 31. There is a potential contrast here with the independent agency in actuality of a meretrix to establish her own contracts, and the usual lack of a lena or leno in the arrangements made by these women – see further James (2006: 227). The free meretrices of Roman comedy do occasionally work under a lena (as in Asinaria, Cistellaria and Miles Gloriosus), although more commonly the presence of a leno/lena is the result of a woman’s enslavement. There is, of course, a practical gameplay element to this way of framing Arin’s work, as it limits the amount of ‘setting up’ of this kind of event needed by the main character – chapters begin with an indication of where Arin will be going, relayed by Lena, and the chapter itself is focused on the outing. 32. Chapter 1. 33. Hepler told me that this discussion of agency was essential, as the player, as well as Arin, needed to know that despite playing as a prostitute they did not have to do anything they did not want to, particularly as regards sexual content within the game (Helper, personal interview, March 2021). 34. These gameplay checks are discussed in more detail below. The player also sees an overhead text which explains, ‘Your good reputation helped protect you from Senator Lucius’ anger.’ 35. Chapter 5. 36. Chapter 9. 37. Chapter 4. 38. Chapter 17. In this regard, Arin’s status as a woman beyond male control, and the anxiety this may generate for the men involved, reflects some of the attitudes found in Roman texts featuring courtesans, such as Plautus Asinaria and Ovid Amores 1.4 and 2.5 – see further on this topic James (2006: esp. 228), where she describes the courtesan as ‘the one woman an elite Roman male needed to persuade’, and Strong (2016: 33–4). 39. Chapter 2. 40. In chapter 13, Legate Aquila describes Arin as ‘Antony’s courtesan’ (a label she rejects, primarily dismayed that he does not remember enslaving her himself: ‘Is that all I am to 234

Gender, Genre and Agency you?’), before Antony uses the same description in confrontation with Aquila: ‘A man of your stature, trying to steal my courtesan’ (chapter 14). 41. Chapter 17. The giving of courtesans as ‘gifts’ to cement political alliances does seem to have happened in the Late Republic, and to have been the situation for Pompeius’ mistress, Flora, who was ‘bartered’ to his friend Geminus (Plutarch Pompeius 2.8), and Praecia, who was used to connect Lucius Licinius Lucullus and Cethegus (Plutarch Lucullus 6.2), see further Strong (2016: 69–72). 42. The vulnerability of Arin here, despite the free status which she insists on, reflects accurately the legal position of Roman prostitutes, who, even if they were free Roman citizens (which Arin of course is not), were at risk of penalties in law which could not apply to other Roman citizens, and which assimilated them in many ways to the legal status of enslaved people – see further Edwards (1997: esp. 76–7). 43. Syphax and Sabina have a stance much closer to Cassius’, but neither is in the same kind of situation of power over Arin as Cassius, who is Arin’s patron. 44. In this regard, the portrayal of the Roman courtesan is likely to be closer to some of the glamorized fictional narratives of meretrices in Rome than the reality of many sex workers. See further Strong (2016: 14–15). 45. The interactions with men Lena indicates here, i.e. the ‘ability to move freely among important historical people’ was particularly important for the writers in deciding to make her a courtesan, according to Hepler (personal interview, March 2021). 46. Chapter 5. 47. Chapter 5. Over the course of the game, this freedom takes the form of Arin attending games, the theatre, the market place, religious ceremonies and celebrations, dinner parties, a popina, and travelling freely or with a patron around the city at all times of the day. Many of these activities do map on to the activities of the Roman courtesan: for full textual support, see James (2018: 105). 48. Chapter 15. 49. For the importance of literacy to the ‘courtesans’ in Arin’s situation in both Rome and Greece, see Hallett (2011: 191–2); and on their unusual degree of education Eyben (1993: 238). 50. Chapter 16. 51. This dynamic reflects the important conceptualization of a meretrix’s work in Rome as being public – for the frequent descriptions even of ‘good’ prostitutes as well known, see Strong (2016: 55). 52. This capacity for deceit is seen as a common feature of courtesans in Roman elegy, see for example Amores 1.4 and, 2.5, Tibullus 1.6, and see further James (2006: 240–1), and similarly on the trope of the lying meretrix in Roman comedy Duncan (2006: esp. 257). It reaches its pinnacle in Plautus’ Truculentus, in which the main character, Phronesium, is demonstrated using her ‘wiles’ to trick an enormous amount of money from her lovers: for the stereotype of ‘bad courtesan’ in this play, see Fantham (2011). 53. Chapter 20. 54. Chapter 15. 55. Chapter 21. 56. Chapters 5 and 12. 57. A Courtesan of Rome, chapter 1. The presence of courtesans at dinner parties is seen throughout Roman literature, particularly, but not exclusively, comedy and elegy (see, for example, Plautus Asinaria, Terence Eunuchus, and Heauton Timoroumenos Tibullus 1.6 and 235

Women in Classical Video Games Ovid Amores 1.4, 2.5). Cicero met Cytheris unexpectedly at a dinner party (Fam. 9.26.1–2), although his objection to her presence in that letter suggests some limitations did exist on a courtesan’s ability to move in elite male company, even if these were primarily connected to individual scruples. 58. Chapter 7. 59. Chapters 7, 12 and 14. This happens whether or not Sabina and Arin enter into a romantic relationship. 60. Chapter 14. 61. Locusta’s role as a poisoner suggests her character was inspired by the historical figure of the same name, for whom see Tacitus (Annals 12.66, 13.15), Suetonius (Life of Nero, 33, 47) and Cassius Dio (61.34 and 63.3) 62. Chapter 4. 63. In the final chapter, Arin will sum up the significance of this relationship, ‘When you bought me, I thought you would be my enemy. But you gave me freedom and have been the greatest ally I could have.’ 64. Hepler described this model for Arin as providing her with ‘three mothers’ (Delphinia, Lena and Locusta), which were an important inclusion for her (Hepler, personal interview, March 2021). 65. Chapter 4. 66. Chapter 20. 67. Chapter 3. 68. Delphinia’s and Arin’s connections with Isis again accurately reflect an aspect of the literary and historical tradition of the popularity of the cult with Roman ‘outsiders’, including prostitutes, for which see Strong (2016: 191–2). 69. As Wainwright (2019: 170–2) has discussed with reference to the Bechdel test. Keith (2018a: 83–4) has demonstrated that networks of women form an important part of some of the historical narratives of Roman courtesans, making A Courtesan of Rome’s setting particularly suitable to this positive change. See also Tuplin in this volume on the community of sex workers in Assassin’s Creed: Odyssey. 70. In chapter 3, she complains, ‘I couldn’t believe Lena saw anything in you . . . I have been training in grace and beauty since I was a little girl!’ 71. In chapter 12, a combination of dialogue options can lead to Xanthe asking dismissively and unsympathetically, ‘Is this where you talk about how you were enslaved?’ 72. E.g. chapter 15. 73. On the importance of diversity as an aspect of representation see, Shaw (2015: 163–5, 219–25) and Cote (2020: 60–9, 92–3).

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268

INDEX

accuracy 1–6, 8, 9, 29–33, 37, 41, 52–3, 55, 75, 90, 117–19, 149, 152, 162, 169, 171, 176, 179, 181–2, 200–2 Apotheon 6, 7, 8, 45, 47–8, 50–1, 54, 57, 75–89 archaeology 37, 55, 119, 177, 186 Assassin’s Creed (series) 4–5, 7, 8, 11, 30, 45–7, 52, 117–18, 160, 162–74, 191–222 Assassin’s Creed II 162–3, 171 Assassin’s Creed: Brotherhood 208, 214, 222 Assassin’s Creed: Odyssey 4–5, 8, 52, 69, 70, 72, 103, 158, 169, 191–222, 233 Assassin’s Creed: Origins 4, 8, 45, 47–8, 51–2, 54, 162–74, 217 Athena (game) 15–28 authenticity 1–2, 4, 6, 8, 9, 32, 75, 117–18, 149, 152–3, 162, 169, 171, 180, 182, 200–1, 212 avatar 44–7, 50–6, 92, 164, 167, 169, 180, 182, 192, 198, 215, 217 Carthage 7, 165, 175–6, 177–82, 184–7, 188, 189 Cicero 164, 172, 173, 233, 236 Civilization (series) 5–6, 117, 150, 179–84, 188 Civilization II 5, 180 Civilization V 5–6, 180, 182 Civilization VI 5–6, 7, 175, 179–84, 186–7 Clash of the Titans (1981) 17, 19–21, 25, 26, 27, 68, 70, 77, 80 classical reception 1–2, 8, 15–16, 20–1, 24, 25, 62, 77, 90, 96, 104, 116–19, 126, 129–30, 140–1, 148, 152, 155–6, 158, 167, 176–8, 180, 186–7, 192, 198, 202–5, 231, 233 counterfactual history 2, 9, 148, 152 Creed, Barbara 61–2, 64, 67, 72 Dante’s Inferno (2010 game) 7, 63, 66, 162, 168, 171 DLC (downloadable content) 3, 7, 34, 45, 47, 52–3, 57, 147, 152, 197, 204 Dragon Age (series) 63, 64, 73, 208, 215, 225 education (games and) 1, 117–20, 164, 169, 174, 203 Egypt 4, 7, 31, 34, 36, 38–9, 45, 151, 162–3, 165–6, 168, 169–70, 171, 174, 177, 231 female agency 16, 41, 55, 78, 97, 99, 105, 111, 113, 120, 123, 126, 135–6, 138, 139, 140, 147, 152–4, 156, 158, 191, 196, 201, 213, 225–32

game players 1, 2, 5, 8, 47, 53, 55–6, 70–1, 117, 120, 134, 210, 211, 216, 223–5 protagonist 2, 4–5, 6, 7, 11, 15, 16, 17, 18, 21, 24, 25, 37, 69, 70, 78, 176, 191, 197–8, 200, 202, 204, 224, 232–3 feminism 2, 11, 16, 30, 72, 76–8, 80, 92, 96, 98, 100, 123, 134–5, 138–9, 147, 149, 159, 192, 200, 203, 208–9, 221, 224, 231 game developers 30–1, 40, 41, 45, 46, 62, 70, 75, 90–1, 96, 97, 99, 100, 117, 126, 134, 140, 141, 147, 149, 152, 156, 158, 162, 176, 181, 191, 198, 204, 210–11, 220, 231, 233 Alientrap 45–6, 51, 75, 82–3 Creative Assembly 3–4, 8, 46, 147, 152 Crytek 46, 148, 154 Firaxis 5, 179 HiRez Studios 118 Pixelberry Studios 223–4, 232–4 SNK 15–18, 21–8 Sony Santa Monica 8, 46, 103, 128 Supergiant Games 8, 103–4, 106, 111–14 Ubisoft 3–5, 8, 11, 30, 46, 52, 57, 70, 74, 78, 103, 162–3, 167–8, 169, 170, 173, 191–3, 195–8, 204, 208, 210–11, 214, 217, 233 Visceral Games 162, 168 gamergate 2, 10, 159, 204, 208, 210–12, 215, 221 gamers 1–2, 8, 9, 11, 16, 18, 24, 25, 44, 46–7, 52–5, 56, 58, 70–2, 92, 101, 103, 134–7, 147, 149, 150, 152, 153, 157–8, 159, 169, 198, 211, 215, 216, 221 genre 2, 5–6, 8, 11, 34, 45–6, 52–3, 56, 63, 66, 72, 74, 92, 103, 116, 119, 122, 147, 149, 150, 152, 156, 191, 192, 194, 198, 203–4, 220, 223–5, 231, 232 AAA 8, 148–9, 151, 158, 191, 220, 224–5, 233 hack-and-slash 45, 46, 52–3, 66, 78, 82–5, 89, 130, 148, 154 MOBA 6, 7, 116, 120–1 platformer 6, 7, 15, 17–18, 25, 28, 45, 75–6 RPG 2, 6, 10, 18, 25, 26, 28, 45–6, 47, 51, 56, 57, 74, 92, 191, 192, 193, 195, 198–9, 200, 211, 220 strategy game 5–6, 11, 25, 39, 45–6, 49, 56, 103, 147, 150, 175, 179 God of War (series) 6, 8, 45, 47–8, 49, 52, 54, 57–8, 63, 64, 65, 68, 70, 73, 78, 92, 101, 102, 128–44, 148–9, 155, 168, 193

269

Index God of War 63, 78, 128 God of War (2018) 8, 52, 117, 128, 140 God of War II 63, 65, 66, 70 God of War III 7, 58, 65, 88, 89, 103, 128–44, 157, 167 God of War: Ascension 45, 46, 47–8, 49, 50, 51, 54, 57–8, 63, 148, 153, 155 God of War: Ghost of Sparta 65 gods 3, 6–7, 11, 17, 27, 46, 50, 65, 68, 69, 75–8, 79–83, 84–6, 87, 88, 89, 91, 104, 107, 114, 116, 118, 120–1, 122, 124, 125, 126, 130, 132, 136, 137, 155, 193, 196, 197, 202, 213 Apollo 17, 25, 75, 77, 79–80, 83, 85, 157, 202 Ares 4, 10, 28, 78, 83, 85, 91, 94, 121–2, 128, 131–2, 137 Hades 25, 69, 70, 78, 103–5, 108, 111, 114, 115, 126, 194 Hephaestus 78, 130, 132, 133, 137 Hermes 91 Poseidon 57, 75, 78, 80, 83, 85, 89, 98, 123, 129, 133, 134, 136, 157 Zeus 20, 65, 75–8, 80–6, 88, 89, 98, 120, 121, 125–6, 131–2, 155 goddess 6, 7, 15, 16, 17, 19–20, 21, 22, 24, 26, 35, 37, 46, 50, 58, 65, 76, 79, 81, 85, 114, 116–27, 128–9, 130, 131, 132, 135, 136, 140–1, 158, 167, 173, 179, 182, 184, 201 Athena 6, 15–28, 58, 78, 79, 81–6, 91, 98, 99, 101, 103, 121–4, 131, 132–3, 195, 201 Aphrodite 7, 16, 25, 27, 57, 58, 69, 76, 79, 81–4, 85, 87, 89, 103, 121, 128–44, 165, 167, 213 Artemis 25, 58, 75, 78–9, 82–4, 89, 121, 132 Bellona 121–2 Demeter 51, 58, 82–5, 88 Discordia 118, 125–6 Gaia 65, 88, 133 Hera 27, 50, 51, 65, 75, 78–82, 86, 88, 89, 120–1, 125–6 Nemesis 121 Nike 118, 121 Persephone 17, 51, 58, 85, 103–5, 121, 125–6 Thetis 79–80, 84, 88 Hades 6, 7, 8, 56, 69–70, 72, 88, 103–15, 126 Hesiod 64, 76, 89, 142, 156 historical figures 2, 5, 7, 32, 36–7, 39, 120, 158, 165, 171, 175, 176, 178–9, 202, 235, 236 Aspasia 202, 208, 212, 216–19, 220 Boudica 32, 41, 123, 152, 154, 158, 233 Cleopatra 7, 31, 34, 36, 38–40, 51–2, 66, 151–2, 162–74, 189, 217, 227, 231 Dido 5, 7, 11, 165, 175–90 Julius Caesar 162–5, 167–9, 172, 224, 226–7, 229, 231, 233, 234 Mark Antony 66, 160, 165, 167–8, 169, 172, 173, 174, 224, 226–7, 229, 231, 233, 234–5

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Socrates 209–10, 213–14, 217, 219 Teuta 31, 32, 152 Homer 3–4, 8, 10, 63, 76, 77, 80, 81, 85, 87, 88, 118, 121, 123, 124, 125, 131–2, 136, 137, 142, 156, 201 Immortals: Fenyx Rising 3, 8, 70, 72, 78, 88 imperialism 180 Islamophobia 186 Kid Icarus 15–20, 24, 25, 26, 28, 63–4, 68, 69, 88, 102 Kristeva, Julia 61–2, 64, 65 male gaze 23, 44, 52, 54, 58, 79, 95, 114, 135, 139–40, 214 Medusa and her Lover 69, 72 Metamorphoses (Ovid) 17, 65, 79–80, 98, 105, 109, 118, 125, 156, 188 mobile gaming 223–36 monsters 6, 7, 17, 18, 20–1, 22, 23, 46, 61–74, 98, 123–4, 125, 154–6, 194 gorgon 37, 51, 61, 66–70, 103, 123, 128, 155 Cyclops 69, 196 furies 47, 49, 54, 103, 114, 148, 153–4, 155–8 minotaur 20, 27, 67, 69, 200 siren 61, 62–4, 71, 73, 90, 125, 221 myth/mythology 1–5, 7, 10, 15–18, 20–5, 28, 34–6, 37, 38, 45, 50, 52, 61–2, 65, 67, 72, 75–7, 78, 79, 87, 89, 90–1, 95–9, 100–1, 102, 104, 106–8, 111, 114, 116–26, 128, 131–3, 137–8, 141, 149, 153–7, 175, 178, 194, 200, 201–2, 203 mythological figures 2, 7, 34–8, 75, 91, 99–100, 102, 116, 123 Achilles 11, 80, 88, 91, 93–4, 96, 102, 106, 115, 206 Aeneas 4, 11, 81, 178, 188, 189 Amazons 3–4, 7, 10, 25, 36, 38, 103, 137, 202, 206 Arachne 66, 121–4 Atalanta 91–7, 99–100, 102 Daphne 79–80, 84 Eurydice 17, 103–14 Heracles/Hercules 25, 88, 91, 93–4, 96, 102, 104, 137, 157 Jason 50, 89–101 Medea 9, 89, 91–4, 95–9, 102 Medusa 16–17, 20, 26, 27, 35, 61, 67–70, 72, 91–5, 98–9, 100, 121–4, 137, 193 Orpheus 17, 25, 104–5, 107–14 Penthesilea 3–4, 10, 202 Scylla 61, 121–2, 124–6 narrative 2–3, 10, 22, 30, 44, 50, 52–3, 56, 67, 70, 76–7, 81, 85–6, 92, 95, 97, 98, 99, 101, 103–4, 105, 114, 116, 117, 118, 120, 122, 126, 131,

Index 134, 139, 147, 149–50, 151, 152, 154–5, 158, 164, 169, 176–7, 178, 180, 186–7, 191, 193, 195, 197–8, 201, 204, 208, 209, 212–13, 217, 219, 220, 223–4, 226, 231, 232, 233, 234, 235, 236 NPC (non-player character) 39, 44–58, 76, 79, 82, 84–6, 91–4, 96, 134, 135, 140, 147, 154–5, 158, 162, 164, 167, 192, 199–200, 208, 214, 215 online harassment 2, 9, 29–30, 41, 71, 135–7, 210–11, 216, 233 orientalism 33, 165, 176–81, 184–6 paratexts 147, 149, 155, 160, 192, 197–9, 205, 225–6 Phoenician 175–7, 181–3 Plato 104, 153, 168, 209 Plutarch 118, 122, 164, 167, 168, 171, 172, 173, 174, 217, 235 prostitution see sex work Psycho Soldier 15, 21–5, 27, 28 Punic 175–7, 179, 185–7 Rise of the Argonauts 6, 7, 68, 90–102 Ryse: Son of Rome 45–8, 50, 54, 57, 89, 123, 148, 154, 158, 214 Salammbô: Battle for Carthage 175–6, 184–90 Sarkeesian, Anita 2, 9, 72, 73, 136–7, 159, 161, 214, 233

sex work 7, 71, 138–9, 202, 208–22, 223–36 sexism 2, 4–5, 16, 25, 30, 44, 56, 138, 168, 192 sexualisation 36, 38–9, 40, 54–5, 57, 62, 78, 101, 103, 134–6, 138–41, 148, 156, 169, 186 sexuality 61–2, 64, 67, 70–2, 78, 102, 129–34, 138–9, 140, 147, 150, 154–6, 167–8, 168–9, 177, 179, 199–200, 209–11, 215, 220, 224 Smite: Battleground of the Gods 66, 68, 73, 88, 103, 116–27, 138 Sparta/Spartans 11, 52, 78, 134, 152, 191, 193–4, 196, 201 Steam (platform) 4, 33, 34, 116, 189, 199, 207, 219 stereotypes 2, 7, 9, 16, 51–2, 61, 121, 126, 129, 130, 154, 168, 174, 186–7, 193, 202, 220, 235 Titan Quest 64, 68, 70, 88 The Witcher (series) 63–4, 67, 138, 199, 215, 220 trailers 191–200 Total War (series) 3–4, 29, 31, 45, 148–9, 151–3, 157 Rome: Total War 31, 148, 151 Rome: Total War II 29, 31, 42, 45–8, 49–50, 147–9, 152–3, 156, 158 Total War: Troy 3–4, 7, 8, 10, 103 violence 7, 45, 50, 58, 70, 79, 81, 84, 86, 123–4, 126, 129, 134–6, 141, 147–71, 179, 203, 208–9, 211, 218–20, 234 Virgil 122, 160, 168, 173, 178, 188 women in/and the game industry 1–2, 4–5, 8, 29–30, 41, 56, 191–2, 197, 208, 210–211, 233

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