Project 1 - Task 7 - Dystopian Games and Critical Perspectives

Alys

Okay, so dystopian games. I mean, they’re just… like, the perfect playground for exploring power and fear, right?

Rhys

Absolutely. They take everything people fear about society—control, collapse, inequality—and crank it up to eleven. They’re not just “what if” scenarios; they’re warnings, in a way.

Alys

Right, like *The Last of Us*. That game isn’t just about surviving a pandemic; it’s about everything that’s broken in human relationships. And *Bioshock Infinite*—that game practically screams societal critique from the rooftops. It’s so bold.

Rhys

Yeah, and it does so using imagery and metaphors that feel totally... well, haunting. But before we jump too far into the games, maybe we should touch on the critical perspectives we’ll use to unpack these themes?

Alys

Oh, totally! We’ve got four main ones to work with, right? Feminist theory, Marxist theory, Postcolonial theory, and Ecocriticism. Wanna start us off?

Rhys

Sure. So, feminist theory essentially looks at how gender roles and power dynamics are portrayed. Think of *The Last of Us* as a case study. You’ve got Ellie, who totally breaks the mold—she’s not your typical damsel in distress. In fact, she’s central to the story and challenges a lot of gaming stereotypes about female characters.

Alys

Exactly! And—

Rhys

Sorry, just to add—what’s really interesting is that the gameplay actually supports that dynamic. I mean, Ellie isn’t just some side character; the game forces you to play as her, to see things from her perspective. That’s pretty huge for representation.

Alys

Right? And that’s one reason feminist theory is so powerful. It lets us question what’s “normal” in games. Okay, Marxist theory now—a biggie for *Bioshock Infinite*. It’s, like, basically a giant critique of class and capitalism mashed into a shooter, you know?

Rhys

Absolutely. The city of Columbia in *Bioshock Infinite* practically drips with tension between the privileged elite and the working class. It’s designed so well that you can feel the inequality when you explore the environments.

Alys

Totally. And it’s not just the setting; it’s the story, too. The game makes you question the whole notion of the American dream, like, is it even achievable without exploiting others?

Rhys

Which, funnily enough, ties into postcolonial theory, but maybe we’ll save that for another game. What I like, though, is how these theories kind of flow into each other—power, control, exploitation. Dystopian games just thrive on that multifaceted tension.

Alys

Totally! Oh, and before I forget—ecocriticism. How these games show humanity’s relationship with the environment is wild. Like, in *The Last of Us*, nature literally takes back the world, right? The overgrown cities, the way the environment pushes back against human dominance—it’s more than just a backdrop.

Rhys

Yeah, it’s as much a character as Ellie and Joel are, really. It feels alive, and that reinforces the whole theme of survival and resilience. There’s something poetic about nature reclaiming what humans destroyed.

Alys

Exactly. And the game has this, like, quiet moment thing going on too, where you feel almost... reverent about it. Like, the world can heal but only at a cost. It's just next-level story design.

Rhys

And that’s where these critical lenses give us so much depth. Games like *The Last of Us* and *Bioshock Infinite*... they reflect on more than gameplay. They’re basically art, layered with meaning.

Alys

Speaking of layered meaning and exploration in games, *Fallout: New Vegas* might just be one of the richest playgrounds for unpacking social dynamics and player agency. Don’t you think?

Rhys

It really is. I mean, right from the start, the factions—the NCR, Caesar’s Legion, Mr. House, even the smaller ones—they’re all these microcosms of different societal structures and ideologies. It’s clever because it’s not just about choosing sides; it’s about navigating conflict in a broken world.

Alys

And it puts all the power in your hands. That’s what amps it up for me. You’re not just in the story; you’re shaping it, deciding how the society around you functions—or collapses, depending on how you play. It feels... almost overwhelming sometimes?

Rhys

Right, which is kind of the point. It forces players to confront uncomfortable ideas—like, is there ever really a "good" choice? Or are you just picking the lesser of several evils? From a Marxist perspective, it’s brilliant how the game critiques power structures and economic disparity.

Alys

Exactly. Like, Caesar’s Legion is authoritarian to the core, but then there’s the NCR, which is supposed to be this democratic—and, I guess, “good?”—alternative, but it’s bloated and corrupt. And then Mr. House... well, he’s capitalism, right? Full-on corporate control, dressed up as futuristic progress.

Rhys

And what makes it work is how seamless all these ideas fit into the gameplay. Your resource management, alliances, how you navigate the wasteland—it’s all intertwined with these critiques, without shoving them in your face. It rewards paying attention.

Alys

Mhmm! And speaking of rewards, *Detroit: Become Human* takes it to a whole other level with its branching storylines and those player-choice stats at the end. Wanna dive in?

Rhys

Let’s. *Detroit: Become Human* is fascinating because it isn’t just about technology or AI; it dives into ethics, human rights—or, in this case, android rights—and what those concepts even mean. It’s a moral playground.

Alys

Right? And those ethical dilemmas hit so hard because they’re wrapped in these, like, really personal stories. Like, Kara and her whole arc—it’s not just, “Oh, androids can think.” It’s what they feel. How they’re trying to protect people or find freedom.

Rhys

And the way it balances the individual and the societal—players get to see both the big picture of AI segregation and oppression, but also the deeply personal struggles. From a posthuman perspective, it’s rich with questions about humanity and what we owe to sentient beings we’ve created.

Alys

Yeah, but it’s also totally polarizing, right? The whole “choice” system is kind of the game’s biggest strength and also its flaw, depending on who you ask.

Rhys

True. The branching narratives are ambitious, but some argue they funnel you into moral binaries rather than true complexity. Still, it’s effective in making players reflect on their decisions. Milanote’s a great tool for tracking this, by the way—especially for organizing themes like agency and morality across pathways.

Alys

Oh, totally. It's perfect for sorting through, like, the overlapping ethical perspectives. And speaking of tools, I love how games like these make you think beyond just the story. They make you explore the “why.” Like, this is why people still debate *Detroit*. It makes you uncomfortable in the best way.

Rhys

And that tension between discomfort and engagement—whether it’s in *Fallout: New Vegas* with its social chaos, or *Detroit* with its philosophical what-ifs—that’s where dystopian games shine. They make players complicit in these worlds, for better or worse.

Alys

So, speaking of being complicit in these dystopian worlds, let’s get into *Cyberpunk 2077*. It’s a game that almost defines dystopia, don’t you think? Like, a society where corporations pretty much own everything—it’s chaos packaged in neon.

Rhys

Yeah, it’s such a stark commentary on corporate influence. Night City doesn’t feel like a place people live in—it feels like they survive in it. And the game does this amazing job of showing how fragmented society becomes when money is the only thing that counts.

Alys

Exactly. And those little moments—like the ads everywhere, the messed-up healthcare system—it’s not even subtle, and that’s what makes it hit so hard. Like, it’s putting a mirror up to our world and going, “Hey, look, this could be your future!”

Rhys

It definitely doesn’t pull any punches. But what’s fascinating is how it blends big societal warnings with personal stories. It’s not just about the system; it’s about the people caught in it, struggling to carve out their identities. That duality is where the game shines.

Alys

Totally. And then there’s *Horizon Zero Dawn*—a dystopia from a completely different angle. It’s like, instead of corporations, the focus shifts to nature and humanity’s impact on it. The ruins of our world are a reminder of what we lost.

Rhys

And it’s much quieter in its critique. The environmental storytelling is incredible. The way you piece together what happened—how overconsumption and ecological collapse destroyed everything—it’s haunting. But it’s also strangely hopeful, isn’t it?

Alys

Oh, absolutely. Like, there’s this tension between destruction and regeneration. The world is healing, even if it’s on its own terms. And Aloy’s journey is so tied to understanding that balance, it kinda makes you think about humanity’s role in protecting what’s left.

Rhys

It’s a lesson for designers, isn’t it? Games like these show us how to weave powerful messages into gameplay, making them immersive and impactful without feeling preachy. There’s room to critique while still telling a compelling story.

Alys

Yeah, and the critical perspectives we’ve talked about—feminist, Marxist, postcolonial, ecocriticism—they’re tools to dig deeper into these narratives. They don’t just help us understand the games better; they challenge us to think critically about the stories we create.

Rhys

Exactly. By applying these lenses, designers can create worlds that feel alive and relevant, that resonate on a cultural level. It’s about making players not just play, but reflect. And that’s what makes dystopian games so, well, important.

Alys

Right? And that’s why we love them. They scare us, challenge us, and maybe—just maybe—teach us something along the way.

Rhys

And on that note, I think that’s all for today. Always a pleasure dissecting these worlds with you.

Alys

Same here! Thanks to everyone tuning in—we’ll catch you next time. Bye!