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i am really turned on by awkward situations

i'm always getting off on the wrong foot 😎

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The Terrible Politics of PS4′s Spider-Man

This Spider-Man guy likes beating up criminals a little too much.

The DLC for the PS4 Spider-Man recently went on sale, so my housemate bought it, and I’ve started playing it again. Full disclosure, I love the gameplay. It seems a direct spiritual successor to the PS2's Spider-Man 2 game, and it's endlessly freeing to effortlessly swing from skyscraper to skyscraper.

But in the process of obsessively completing missions to unlock the underpants outfit, I’ve become reacquainted with how confused and abhorrent the politics of Spider-Man are. It’s largely in relation to the police, the NYPD, which has always had a fraught relationship with Spider-Man throughout his existence - comics, films, and games.

But this time, it feels utterly unlike any previous incarnation - while this relationship remains fraught, it’s only in terms of how the police view Spider-Man (only in the sense that he’s doing their job for them). Spider-Man, on the other hand, is unwavering in his adoration of the NYPD, the ‘brave boys in blue’. This is deeply troubling, for obvious reasons - Spider-Man is the point-of-view character, and in a world increasingly disgusted at the wanton violence, racism, and lack of accountability displayed by not just the US police force, but indeed police forces worldwide, it’s utterly tone-deaf.

The police in Spider-Man are best represented by Jefferson Davis, an average police officer and father of future Spider-Man Miles Morales. Davis is a good cop - noble, self-sacrificing, and community-minded. This is how Spider-Man perceives the force at large, rarely forgetting to thank those brave boys in blue for their service. Spider-Man’s internal dialogue often references the supposed friction between him and the police, but you’d never know from the actual cops in the game, and he nevertheless goes out of his way to support them.

You could argue that this is an aspirational representation - what the writers want the police to be. But there are a few problems with this. First, the police aren’t really all that great - it’s just that the immoral things they do in the real world are ignored, whitewashed. Some of them are generally antsy around Spider-Man himself, but equally, many are adoring (and of course, Spider-Man himself is similarly adoring of the police force).

The other problem with it foregoing a real-world representation for an idealised representation is the fact that Spider-Man already engages with other real-world representations. Jonah J. Jameson has forgone his role as newspaper editor to play talkback radio host, his wild accusations and angry ranting a clear analogue to Alex Jones. Norman Osborn, meanwhile, has become mayor in this story, rather like another high-profile businessman turned populist politician. So, to ignore the reality of the police force is irresponsible, given that the game already critiques existing institutions (admittedly, institutions that are safe to critique by the standards of liberal defenders of the status quo). 

There’s even condemnation levelled at the fascist paramilitary organisation Sable, which continues to overstep its boundaries, depriving people of their civil rights. Spider-Man takes the time to (with utter lack of self-awareness) shake his head at this, declare that it's not how things are done in New York - before going right back to gushing over the NYPD. In 2018, the NYPD held a transgender Latina woman overnight, charging her with ‘false personation’, misgendering her, and mocking her. If that doesn’t sound like an autocratic organisation depriving people of their rights, acting above the law, and being an antagonistic force towards parts of the community, then God knows what is.

This is equally an issue with Brooklyn 99, arguably the world’s most influential fictional representation of the police force. Again, it shamelessly portrays the police as fundamentally good, despite the inclusion of the rare bad cop. Instead, the show depicts the NYPD as being diverse in terms of race and sexuality, though if the above example proves anything, it’s that this is far from the truth. It’s not just ineffectual wishing for a better tomorrow, it’s actively creating a false narrative, one that is irresponsible in its refusal to acknowledge the harm that police forces do.

On the one hand, you could say that Spider-Man is no more problematic than crime fiction, in its black-and-white moral of order versus chaos. Superheroes and crime fiction are inextricably intertwined, are they not? But Spider-Man goes further - it brazenly dehumanises criminals (by ‘criminals’ I mean the everyday criminals, not the supervillains, who get complex backstories), reducing them not to victims of circumstance and poverty, but simply to animals that long for destruction and self-gain. Of course, Spider-Man could never give every two-bit goon a backstory, but it goes too far the other direction. Crime is some sort of malevolent force, completely other from ‘normal’ humans. Criminals are some sort of vicious, orc-like beings (and lest we forget, even Tolkien had trouble reconciling the moral implications of orcs, sentient beings who were apparently pure evil and less-than-human).

To return to Brooklyn 99, the first episode demonstrates the two lead characters (both model cops) in a race to see who can arrest the most people. Sure, it’s treated as comedy, but it’s still tone-deaf against the context of real-world abuses of police power, and presents criminals as abstracted, shapeless masses that police have to dispose of to keep us all safe. There’s not even the slightest acknowledgement of the complex socio-economic circumstances that lead many to actions that are considered crime.

45% seems way too high to me.

This article explains, better than I ever could, the dehumanisation of criminals in Spider-Man. In particular, there’s a contrast between the in-game Riker’s Island, a hive of scum and villainy, and its real-world counterpart, a prison full of disadvantaged groups, trapped by a system constructed to keep them down.

Even Spider-Man’s dialogue demonstrates this. In every crime-busting side mission, Spider-Man seems to view criminals as misbehaving children. Spider-Man’s gleeful efforts to return them to prison are jarring and distasteful, compared to real life, where revolving door prison systems keep minorities and low-income people beaten down, thanks to the serious handicap of being labelled a criminal.

Spider-Man’s tone-deaf dialogue shines through again in describing the cops. Coming across a shootout between police and escaped convicts (again presented as thoughtless marauders), he compares the scene to a Wild West setting, of brave lawmen engaged in a firefight in some urban canyon. And then there’s Spider-Man’s juvenile, faux-serious self-narration as 'Spider-Cop’. It’s ironic that Spider-Cop evokes a child’s efforts to play a cop; such a child would have, no doubt, a largely positive view of the police, thanks to media representation such as Spider-Man’s pro-police narrative.

Maybe the game exclusively presents police as noble heroes because the writers tacitly approve of their real-world heavy-handed treatment of minorities. After all, Spider-Man himself declares drug-dealing to be his 'least favourite criminal activity', and while he corrects himself to say it’s one of his least favourites, it’s very telling that he has such a strong reaction to a crime that, in the US, has largely been used to victimise minorities and opposition to the elite. During the Nixon administration, for example, the criminalisation of heroin and marijuana was used as an excuse to harass the black and anti-Vietnam communities respectively, neither of which were friends to Nixon.

As a side note, the clear association between Alex Jones and Jonah J. Jameson is evidence of Spider-Man’s uncertain message, much like the imbalance between the critique of Sable and the lionisation of the NYPD. While he starts out as a bitter, conspiracy-theorising radio host with a clear vendetta, he starts to make intelligent, sane points. For example, he starts to question the conflicting interests of Osborn, a capitalist who has been elected mayor of New York (again, an obvious allusion to Trump). He also urges citizens to fight for their rights in the face of Sable’s abuse of power - is he supposed to be a satirical lunatic, or one of the few sane voices? In a world as black-and-white as Spider-Man’s, a character like Jameson just seems confused.

To return to the point, perhaps this begs the question, what’s the right way to depict the police? Maybe, if you’re not going to take any kind of stand on the injustice they commit, you shouldn’t depict them at all in a piece of fiction, especially if it’s something fun and light-hearted like Spider-Man or Brooklyn 99. Admittedly, in the case of the latter, that would necessitate it not existing, but then, you wouldn’t write a buddy comedy about two US troops in the Iraq War, would you?

DISCLAIMER: You could say that it’s just a game, and that politics should be kept out of this. But those who say they’re apolitical really just mean they’re content with the status quo - everything is political. Especially if it depicts an organisation like the police.

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Return

This story first appeared in 'The Quotidian: The Sydney University Student Anthology 2017′. 

It was pleasantly warm out. 

This felt unfair to her, as if the surrounding devastation deserved torrential rain, or some bitter chill. 

This was far from being the most unfair thing to have happened to her in recent weeks, but it was a simple thing. It didn’t require much thinking or explanation, and so she seized on it. She forced herself to ignore the bigger picture, in favour of silly little things that she could scowl and curse at. It made her feel vindictive, superior, though she couldn’t explain why. 

The girl picked her way through debris, rusted metal posts and piles of rubble. She stepped out onto the road to avoid walking in the shadow of a dangerously listing brick wall, but was forced to get off the road again when a large crater took up the width of the road. She snickered at that. A lucky break for the local government. Now they had a pretty good excuse for not fixing that pothole. 

Nearly home, she thought, just down the street and round to the right. 

She hadn’t eaten since breakfast yesterday, and her stomach was not letting her forget it. This was, therefore, an inconvenient time for her gaze to wander over the abandoned bakers shop that had once stood on the street corner. Part of it still stood there, but the absence of a few walls and a roof had put an end to the little shop. 

She’d worked there a little while, she remembered. At first the girl had loved it, the customers’ banter, her co-workers' camaraderie, the freshly baked loaves she would occasionally sample. But then the veil lifted; she was sick of her co-workers’ sloth, and the jokes grew repetitive. By the end it was no longer a charming exercise in socialisation, just a process done by rote - greet, take money, give bread, thank the customer and farewell. It gave her a little vindictive thrill to see it gone, but she pulled her mind back before it could approach the question of the shop’s erstwhile owners. 

As the girl rounded the corner, the sun hit her full in the face, the jagged rays spraying out of the harsh blue sky. She shielded her eyes from the light, and stumbled over a fallen wall that lay inconsiderately in her path. Before she could fall, she pulled herself to a halt, sparing her hands and shins from grazes that she’d suffered so many times before. 

She succeeded in arresting her momentum, but not before kicking her toe against something sharp and hard. She couldn’t see past the glare, so she poked at the obstacle with her foot. It was something metallic, though she didn’t have feet dexterous enough to understand further. She spent a wonderful few moments wondering what it could be, without ever looking at the thing. She thought of nothing else for those few moments, though every now and then she could feel other things tugging at her. 

That childlike interest - that attitude of one who is desperate not to be bored - faded eventually. Her glacially encroaching thoughts of mature pragmatism told her it was just some rebar jutting out of fractured concrete. She didn’t like that answer - thought it dull - but she had to admit now she was just wasting time. She could no longer convince herself that this diversion was unintentional. 

With that, then, she pulled herself away from the still-undefined obstacle, and wandered down the road. 

Her house was a few doors down. It’d only been a few days since she’d been there, but that was long enough for her memories to seem frayed, hard to grasp. Perhaps it wasn’t the passage of time that had done that, but rather, how much had happened. 

She slowed to a stop outside her home, looking in through the empty windows and doors. They stared and gaped like hungry voids, with only the faintest of silhouettes distinguishable from the outside. It looked cold in there, despite the weather. 

Grandma’s been going around making sure all the lights are off, she told herself. The girl could wait no longer, and slipped inside. There’d been no sign of others out on the streets, but she didn’t much feel like talking anyway. 

Inside, it wasn’t all that dark. It must have just been the sun’s glare that made it look like that. It still seemed cold, but at the same time not. The girl couldn’t work that one out. 

As she entered, she heard voices. Her heart thudded, but it was only a radio left on in the living room, two politicians debating. She recognised one voice - a firebrand, an extremist on the fringe of his party. He was berating his opponent for being soft on the current crisis, for not empathising with the victims, for not being strong enough to condemn the— 

The girl switched it off as fast as she could, blocking her conscious mind from processing the words. She hated radio anyway. What was the point, when the television had sound and picture? 

With the radio off, there was silence in the house. Near silence, anyway. Certainly there was none of the chaotic din that such a large family could produce in such a small house. 

She didn’t call out or try to see if anyone was still home. Instead, she strolled down the hallway to the kitchen. Motes of dust floated through the air, lit now and then by beams of light passing through a multitude of unseen holes in the wall. The girl stopped just before the kitchen, as she saw a deep hole in the floor before her. Some structural damage had collapsed the floor here, and if she hadn’t been careful, she might have just fallen through, down into the cellar. 

She skipped lightly over the gap in the floor, and felt a piece of rubble crack and fall. She was pleased she hadn’t followed it. It would’ve put a real dampener on the day. 

The vivid, almost garish paintings her mother had put on the walls were coated with dust now. It was something of an improvement, if she was honest. She’d never said anything about it to her mother, of course, but the girl had always found it unlikely that there were worse interior designers out there. 

The kitchen stood much the same as it always did. It was as dirty as ever, but now it was strewn with dust and debris, rather than her brothers’ mess. She steered her thoughts once more to the sardonic, the inane, and wondered if this was an improvement. 

The girl slipped around the kitchen table, listing dangerously due to a damaged leg, and kicked a few rocks into a small hole in the floor.  

‘Goal,’ she whispered to herself, quietly imitating the roar of a crowd. 

She opened the fridge. If fortune favoured her, there’d be leftovers from three nights ago, or at least bread. And if she were even more fortunate, they’d be free of mould. If not, oh well; she had her mould scraping knife at the ready. 

Inside, there were a few bits of food. Enough for now, certainly. Better luck - the fridge motor was still running. But she didn’t notice any of that at first. She looked to the back of the fridge, where the light was. It hadn’t come on when she’d opened the door. She stood there for a minute or two. She wasn’t waiting for the light to come on; at least, she didn’t think that’s why she stood there for so long. 

But eventually, the dam burst. As she stared into the dim metal cabinet, her resolve collapsed, and even as it did so, she cursed the fact that this was what had undone her. 

Why couldn’t the light have just come on? 

It doesn’t even look damaged. 

It always just… comes on. 

I just want something to do what it’s supposed to. 

Even through the wash of despair, she knew she was being petulant, but she refused to calm herself. She kicked at the fridge door, and it swung shut. Unappeased, she kicked at the kitchen table too, and already being unstable, it collapsed, kicking up dust. The girl thumped the fridge door a few times, ineffectually, and eventually her frustration subsided. 

She placed her shaking hands on the top of the stove, steadying herself. She breathed. She waited. When the shaking stopped, she straightened, pulled open the fridge again and scooped out whatever was still edible, as quickly as she could. 

She found a bag nearby and stuffed her haul into it, swinging it over one shoulder. The day was getting on, and it would be better not to delay. Outside the sun’s glare had lessened, though the weather was no less warm. If anything, the air was now heavy and damp. 

The girl looked west. 

Beyond the white-grey sprawl of the city, a swell of dark clouds, pregnant with rain, rolled down from the hills. 

Oh good, the girl thought. That’s a bit better.

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Echoes in the Aviary - Jane Tyrrell

Echoes in the Aviary is the first solo album from veteran Elefant Traks singer, Jane Tyrrell, and it could not be any less overdue. I can remember, when first I listened to artists such as Horrorshow, Urthboy, and the like, and was fortunate enough to hear Tyrrell’s breathy, gorgeous voice. At the same time, I can recall thinking that Tyrrell really needed to record her own album.

And now she has, and it’s brilliant. Dark and brooding throughout, yet simultaneously elegant; one can imagine that Jane Tyrell and all the musicians, engineers, and other staff all wore formal, black gowns throughout the production. Perhaps the men wore suits. Perhaps they wore dresses as well. Who can say? At any rate, Echoes in the Aviary is a brilliant album, evocative and absorbing.

The album opens on a strong note with Wild Waters, and the song is aptly named, not just because of the lyrics. The song exemplifies the record’s mystery and intensity, and listening to Wild Waters is an experience akin to being caught in swirling, turbulent currents.

Other stand-out tracks include Ships, and Shapeshifters; the first has some killer drumming, while the other boasts a very danceable electro line. The album closer, Transcendant, is a soft, almost minimalist conclusion after the preceding tracks, though the album can’t be called thickly textured. The end result is Echoes in the Aviary being a journey through some shadowy, though not bleak, or gloomy, tracks, and ultimately, each song is beautiful.

Artist: Jane Tyrell Album: Echoes in the Aviary Release date: Oct 17, 2014 Record label: Elefant Traks Best tracks: Wild Waters, Ships, Shapeshifters

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The Thrawn Trilogy - Timothy Zahn

**MILD SPOILERS**

In the lead up to 2015's new Star Wars trilogy, I am getting VERY excited about all things Star Wars. (Well, almost all things Star Wars. I happened to see Lego Star Wars on TV the other day. It was... baffling, at best, but in an enjoyable way.) And yes, I may be two years early to start getting worked up about this, particularly after most of our recent recollections of Star Wars involve the prequel trilogy. But damn it, Star Wars has an absolutely fascinating universe, the deeper you get into the Expanded Universe. Yes, I know I regained my virginity by writing that, but some things are just worth that kind of sacrifice. 

The Thrawn trilogy made up, until Disney's 2012 acquisition of Lucasfilm, the (honorary) 7th, 8th and 9th Star Wars stories, and with good reason. This series got a lot of the EU lore started, introducing now well-known characters like Mara Jade, Talon Karrde, Captain Pellaeon, and of course, the eponymous Grand Admiral Thrawn. And what I appreciated most about these characters is that at no point were they simply expies of older, beloved characters. It could've been a risk with this trilogy, particularly seeing as Zahn simply LOVES to reference moments from the films - rarely does any character bring up a moment they remember from the five years AFTER ROTJ. One could be forgiven for thinking that Luke, Han, Leia and the others are eternally longing for the glory of the Rebellion, weighed down by the admin burdens of the New Republic. Back to the point though - thankfully, Karrde, Jade, Pellaeon, Thrawn, and all others are entirely new, enjoyable characters. What I enjoyed most about the characters was the Sherlock and Watson dynamic between the Grand Admiral, and his Captain. The Empire in this trilogy is essentially what would happen if the pair from Baker Street found themselves without any morality, and in charge of an ousted galactic empire. It certainly takes the first step away from Star Wars' villains being defined by a drive towards "EVILEVILEVILPOWERPOWERPOWER" (though the mad Jedi Joruus C'baoth still fulfils this), and turning them into vivid characters.

It does get a little unbelievable when Thrawn, for the umpteenth time, predicts exactly what an entire planet will do, thanks to what I can only assume is an in-depth education at art school, but at the same time, I loved that the few mistakes Thrawn makes lead to his inevitable defeat (sorry for the spoilers, but y'know, this is Star Wars - of course the good guys win).

Star Wars books tend to have a fairly common style, across authors and mediums, and Zahn maintains this well. It's got tongue-in-cheek moments that the original Star Wars films were rife with (at one point, Han makes a callback that solidifies his status of being a rogue, with Leia's "I love you" returned with a "Me too" from Han). There's a good reason the Thrawn trilogy is one of the most well-known Star Wars book series out there, and as a huge geek and devotee of the franchise, I can recommend this as the ideal starting point for fans who haven't yet entered the deep end of... THE EXTENDED UNIVERSE.