Red Dead Redemption: First Impressions




Okay, Mr. Marston, I know it's a little late in the game to really call these my 'first' impressions. Granted, it's the first time I've written about the game here, I've already sunk 10+ hours over the past week into the game. But here goes.

I was somewhat skeptical about the game given my (still) mixed feelings about Grand Theft Auto IV. As a pure game, sure, GTA IV is well done to the point I've played (about 10 hours as well) but it also failed as an open world game. The NPCs didn't allow you to be your own character. Content was NOT at your own pace--at least without them grumbling about you 'ignoring' them, failing to help against gangster attacks and whatnot.

 I'm never going to call you on your cell phone.

Red Dead Redemption fixes that glaring design problem. Missions are strictly at your own pace. Heck, if you wanted to explore "Oblivion" style for twenty hours, you could. I'd get a little bored just doing that, because the NPCs outside of the storyline (main and side quests) are really just scenery--albeit scenery you can shoot. Similar to GTA IV, missions are themed around certain main characters and are triggered by coming to designated locations. But, unless you specifically trigger a mission, the plot will not advance. Period.

After all, what's the point of having an open world game without giving the player the freedom to explore and consume content at their own pace? I've really enjoyed having that freedom, especially since the game allows you to be distracted by just about anything unless a mission is in progress or you've taken on a bounty. Shoot animals, ride all over the wilderness, trigger 'mysterious stranger' side quests, etc. Defend yourself against seeming endless supplies of bandits every time you take down a bounty target.

There are a lot of things I could write about, but mission control was my number one concern going into the game--and Rockstar has finally restored the 'open' to their brand of open-world gaming.

A Manifest Destiny for the 21st Century?


Disclaimer: This is, in a sense, what I personally believe--and yet in another sense, what I will be examining here is something I have very real hesitations about. Think of it, perhaps, as a (hopefully) interesting thought experiment in how to change American foreign policy.

Defining Our Terms

A quick visit to Wikipedia reveals that the term 'manifest destiny' can be used in a variety of ways, not all of them mutually compatible. In order to have a productive discussion, it's in our best interest to clearly delineate exactly what I'm referring to when I use it.

When I say 'manifest destiny', I mean the idea that America--in her particular brand of republican democracy--has something to offer the rest of the world. Many things could be changed, including a return to better economic freedom, less progressivism in the tax code, etc. I have no interest in whitewashing or idealizing the United States in actua.

Which, of course, is part of my interest in defining the term. 'Manifest Destiny' was the guiding principle behind much of early American expansionism, but there's little virtue to be found in historical episodes like the Indian Wars. I recognize that any talk of expansionism--particularly via military means--must be very carefully considered. The reality of unintended consequences demands that the proven benefits to be gained vastly outweigh the foreseen costs in lives, money, and temporary degrading of conditions in the acquired territory.

But decades down the road, who can deny that the American Southwest is far better off being a part of the United States than Mexico? It is possible, of course, that if Mexico retained the Southwest it could be a better place, but I'm not holding my breath for a successful historical revision to be written.

Change isn't always for the better. And war is a last, worst, alternative. But the success of the United States has to amount to more than a historical and geographic accident. The expansion of borders is something that should and must occur.

Tensions in Foreign Policy


The United States, especially since the turn of the 20th century, has struggled between the poles of isolationism and interventionism.

The isolationist tendency can be summed up as follows: given that republican democracy is essentially about self-determination, who are we to interfere in other sovereign nations' affairs? We certainly don't want them meddling in ours--and of course, treat that as the only true justification for action. Live and let live, so to speak.

The interventionist tendency views self-determination through some form of democratic representation as the ideal government for every geo-political instance. Countries who do not possess such regimes, particularly those who are oppressive rather than pseudo-benevolent, are targets for intervention. These targets can be prioritized in a variety of ways, but all must eventually be dealt with--and by military force, if necessary.

Strictly speaking, interventionism requires action in the face of any human rights issue. The problem is that many such issues remain internal to the given country (and thus action technically requires violating the sovereignty of another nation, something which the isolationist tendency resists) or do not directly impact the national interest of the United States. The horrible genocides in Cambodia and Rwanda are two such examples.

Any reasonable person regards these tragedies as horrible examples of human depravity. Yet few people argued for American intervention unilaterally, instead content to let the toothless UN put both countries on a further nosedive. This is because even the strongest interventionist must be pragmatic. We are one of the few free countries--and have finite resources. As much as American force could have helped, I totally agree that--in current terms--we can't be the world's policeman.

Policing the world--in a world populated by numerous sovereign entities--is a non-starter. The best argument for this is the current status of Europe. These countries were free to bankrupt themselves with incredible social expenditures--and comparatively little on defense--because they have been protected by America's defense umbrella, both strategic and conventional.

Moreover, even wars fought out of a desire for national security (however debatable) like Iraq and Afghanistan, increasingly become difficult to justify because there is little tangible return on our investment. We have spent incredible amounts of money and lives--and on what? The world is nominally safer, I would argue, but these countries have no geographic nor natural economic ties with our own. We're promoting freedom, and that's never a bad thing, but the maintenance required taxes our resources--and weakens us for the sake of strengthening another sovereign entity.

This self-sacrifice is effect out of a (current) desire to not appear 'imperialistic'. Frankly, though, the more I think about it, why is that such an argument? Now, I'm not going to be advocating actual raw conquest, but why shouldn't we get something tangible out of our toils? Isolationism, given a global economy and the increasingly long reach of 'rogue' states, is untenable. Interventionism becomes increasingly difficult because it represents a constant net drain on resources, both material and personal. There has to be a third way.

A Model for Justified Expansionism

This article has gotten long enough, so I'll try to conclude with reasonable brevity. The model I have in mind envisions a sort of commonwealth. The interchange of citizens, economy, and culture would entail the inevitable absorption into the original country--and the making of many sovereigns into one. Here interventionism can actually pay off, in new blood, new natural resources, etc. Not that it would be easy--after all, look at the drain the former East Germany was (still is?) on the re-unified German state.

Several simple reforms would likely make this easier. For one, I strongly advocate a simplified tax code analogous to Paul Ryan's proposal in his Roadmap for America's Future. A possible structure would be as follows:
  • Abolish the corporate income tax. Corporations are legal fictions and cannot, ultimately, pay anything. All corporate taxation is taxation on a combination of: employees wages and compensation, shareholders, and customers. It's a double tax that only hurts the economy--especially one that is trying to aggressively expand.
  • The remaining personal tax should either be completely equal (a flat tax) or as un-progressive as is reasonably possible. An example would be, say, 10% up to $100,000; 25% on anything beyond that.
  • New members of the commonwealth would only be taxed at the 10% rate--no cap. This would encourage the entrepreneurial members of society to move from the states to the new territories most in need of development.
A commonwealth agreement would be the next logical step of free-trade agreements in the North American region, especially with countries like Columbia, where we also have some limited sharing of military resources. The benefits would run both ways. America gains new territory, citizens, and resources. The member entities (no longer sovereigns, but not yet states) would gain a unified economy and legal code, the benefit of a sponsor aggressively improving infrastructure and military assets, and many other things.

Eventually these members could be absorbed as full states, though that part of the process would be a long ways down the road.

What do you think about this? I know it's a little (a lot?) wild, but do you see the point about isolationism and interventionism?

Please comment!

Telling Stories Without Words


This is just a brief observation I wanted to get down while I was thinking about it. . . .

I've been playing a lot of Fallout 3 lately, but just tonight I noticed a couple really interesting details that really bring the world home to me. One (and for those of you who've played, it's at the raider outpost in Cliffside Caverns) was after fighting my way through a raider-infested series of caverns, only to discover these caverns abut a series of caves home to Yao Guai. On both sides of the door leading to the new set of caves there were frag mines placed.

This really humanized the rather faceless (and voiceless) antagonists of the Capital Wasteland. Yeah, raiders are a real pain-in-the-ass, but they're people too. And they sure as hell don't want to be eaten by the Yao Guai.

 
 You want to be my lunch?
It's a small detail but one that kind of stuck with me.

Another similar moment came at the Warrington Trainyard. Here's an encounter with an area relatively infested with feral ghouls. But as you clear the area, there's a broken catwalk overlooking the yard with decayed skeletons piled around a bunch of ammo boxes and a missile launcher. People died fighting here--but no one ever tells you a story or puts it in a cut-scene. It's just there, for you to find, and make the inference.

 
Not the greatest angle, but it gives some idea of the layout.

Further up a hill nearby is a pseudo-bunker with more remnants of the combatants--and a sniper rifle placed on the window-sill. It's a design decision, of course, but unlike a more typical FPS attitude, the sniper rifle isn't placed there for you to use against the ghouls. You've already killed them if you came from the anticipated direction. The rifle is there because someone died tried to provide 'overwatch' to those poor souls on the catwalk.

Amazing how well-crafted worlds sometimes don't even need words to tell their stories.
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