WRITER'S STATEMENT
I write because I play video games, and I play video games because I write. My muse, is the least likeable yet relatable video game protagonist: Travis Touchdown. He is the centrepiece of No More Heroes, a video game that is rough around the edges with a purpose.
Travis Touchdown's story is about you and I. Even in a day and age where nerd culture is reasonably mainstream and accepted by the socially applauded among us, it's still the final haven for you and I.
We rarely do things purely for their own sake, whether it is the money we earn or the backlog of entertainment we begrudgingly consume, simply because they encapsulate the said money we tirelessly earn. Even my writing isn't always for its own sake. It is bound by a writing schedule, social media shilling, and whatever else.
Travis Touchdown's story is about you and I. No More Heroes is a video game made for you and I.
The whole point of me writing is to write about games like No More Heroes, and the stories they contain. Who knows how much longer I'll keep writing but I can’t seem to escape it even when I tried my hardest to. Games like No More Heroes make me question everything I know about life, a life I've lived as a gamer for the past three decades, with no plans to take up fishing or dancing as a new hobby.
The obsession with travelling is almost at the other end of the spectrum opposite to the obsession with video games. The excitement of visiting a new place has absolutely nothing to do with the place itself, even people living day in day out in the most desired travel destinations suffer inescapably from the human condition. There's really nothing new under the sun, and things you've yet to experience or places you've yet to visit all have the same underlying appeal of impulsive novelty.
Then why not escape into self-indulged art and entertainment? Watch another cop show, pretend to enjoy the mediocre offerings of the current TV season, listen to the next big artist who more or less sampled another music legend, or read another novel which more less is a fanfiction of a seminal work. It's a futile effort to satisfy an unending desire for novelty gratification.
Surely, video games are the final haven for a meaningful experience. They have the best of both travel and entertainment. You travel into a new world, get to experience the art firsthand, and become an active agent in the story and narrative. It's the most involved and authentic form of entertainment and experience... and yet there's nothing new under the virtual sun either.
Travis Touchdown is the kind of person we all never want to admit we are. A degenerate with an unproductive and utterly unhelpful sense of empathy for the human condition. The kind of empathy which does nothing for the world, simply because it is devoid of authentic engagement with the world. The kind of person who succeeds in areas that have no bearing on anyone. The proverbial hermit at least leaves a legacy of thoughts behind, but a person like Travis leaves nothing to be remembered by and nothing to leave a mark on the world.
Travis is the ultimate metaphor of the gamer who, despite having access to countless virtual worlds to escape into, must still come to terms with their existence, must ultimately endure the plight of the human condition, and must face the reality of their own mortality. The most harrowing realisation of all is the futile nature of any achievement within an interactive piece of entertainment, one that is sold and consumed like any manufactured commodity.
However, Travis is the humble gamer who has honour. The gamer who accepts that their choices are for themselves alone and does not demand or expect the world to celebrate their choices. Travis is the kind of gamer who wants to be the best, simply as a badge of honour within his own world. He is not like the contemporary gamer who feels entitled to be celebrated beyond the confines of the virtual world. Travis is not a hero. In fact, no video game protagonist was ever really a hero.
No More Heroes is a powerful meta-commentary on video games: the industry, the gamers, the critics, the so called professionals, the developers, the programmers, and the publishers. It is even a honest and vulnerable reflection of creator Suda51's own life, career, and legacy of creative works. It speaks on all these themes and everything else in between. This game is perhaps the most important and honest insight into the video game art form.
No More Heroes makes you question the current state of the medium, what it used to be, and why the direction it's heading is perhaps not where it was meant to go at all. Above all, you will finally question why you even play video games at all.
The game design of No More Heroes is, for the lack of a better term, self-aware. It has a deliberate, self-aware, and intentional game design that simply exists for its own sake. There's nothing fundamentally wrong with the experience since it has versatile combat gameplay and a well structured level progression. Beyond the art and metaphysics, this is a game with real substance made for an audience that is, to use a very jarring metaphor, not of this world.
The boss battles are certainly an iconic staple of No More Heroes, a cast of bosses which not only test your motor skills, but even confront your motives as a challenger. Sasuke vs. Commander (1980) was the first video game to introduce the very notion of the boss fight, it's an eye-opening and humbling experience as you get to witness the very advent of the boss battle itself, and realise how the archaic blueprint in Sasuke vs. Commander remains very much intact today. It was a revolutionary concept which forever changed the video game experience, for it gave players a memorable challenge unlike anything the standard underlings could offer. There's something truly remarkable about a boss battle because a boss is more than just a supersized henchman to beat, they have larger than life egos which leave a lasting impression on the player.
In fact, it was the achieving the feat of defeating 16 behemoth bosses in Shadow of the Colossus that turned me into a writer. More than the high scores, more than the tournaments, and more than the social media recognition, it is the simple act of besting a gatekeeper and guardian that remains the most endearing, timeless, and authentic achievement in a video game. No More Heroes, even with all its flaws, has a cast of boss characters who will always be remembered.
No More Heroes isn't about what video games used to be, what they could have been, what they shouldn't be, or what they might become. It represents what video games are, for better or for worse.
Travis Touchdown is the hero no one asked for, no one needed, and yet, it's the only hero we have left in the world. Self-indulgent, selfish, and pursuing all their deluded acts of heroism for short-lived validation. Travis Touchdown is a metaphor for all of us who live inconsequential lives, but are too afraid to admit it. We are revered individuals worth remembering, but only in our own mind.
No More Heroes is what video games are. Travis Touchdown is what gamers are. Both are the reasons why I write.