I’m of the opinion that explanations in narrative are often boring.  In my experience writers, directors, and designers often cave to a kind of external pressure to have all the answers to every possible question a reader or player might have.  There are some exceptions of course, and if a writer has set the tone of their work to be as realistic to reality as possible, then of course readers or players would be frustrated without an answer.  If Charles Dickens had Oliver Twist simply disappear in the last three chapters of the novel readers would be angry and frustrated.

If this is the case why am I not bothered by the nameless man in Red Dead Redemption?

I’ve begun playing the original Red Dead Redemption again because my girlfriend was playing Red Dead Redemption 2.  It was fun listening to her describe accidentally striking pedestrians with her horse, collecting bounties, or taking hot baths in hotel rooms while the gang was still hiding up in the mountains.  She was enjoying the game, and I guess there was some nostalgia on my end, as well as a desire to share something with my partner.  I asked her regularly how far she had gotten, and told her to “keep your eye on Dutch.”  Eventually when she kept asking me “What happens with Dutch?” I thought it would be easier to just play the game for her.

While progressing through the main missions to get to the storming of Fort Mercer I eventually stumbled across several of the side missions which are, honestly, some of my favorite parts of the original game.  And as I was riding to the McFarlane ranch and spotted the lone figure on the edge of a cliff I immediately hopped off my horse, excited to show my girlfriend my favorite side quest in the game.

“I Know You” is broken up into three individual encounters in the game.  Side missions in Red Dead Redemption structure their side quests so that the player randomly encounters them.  In fact it’s entirely possible to completely miss them if you don’t open your map, or avoid the purple circles that begin appearing indicating a newly generated mission.  Often these missions are simply cut scenes that show the protagonist John Marsten meeting some stranger, listening to them, and then being asked to find someone, talk to them, or perform some other sort of action.

John meets the man as he stares out at the territory of “New Austen.”  He’s a middle-aged caucasian man wearing a black suit, a thick handlebar mustache, a black tie, and a tall black top-hat.

Side note: Nobody wears top hats anymore, unless you’re into steampunk, and it’s sad.  

I realize the structure of that sentence makes it sound like steampunk or not wearing top hats is sad.  Which one is actually sad?  Answer: yes.

The first time John encounters this man, he asks John about a young woman who died when John shot her on a ferry several years ago.  John confesses that he can’t remember the woman’s name.  The man responds by telling him that a friend of his is about to cheat on his wife and encourages John to “Advise” him.

When the man appears a second time it’s in Mexico in a remote region.  Still wearing the same outfit he speaks to John about the choices he’s made in life.  John angrily asks the man who he is.  The man informs John that there is a nun who needs assistance, casually noting that it’s John’s choice to help her or rob her.

The final appearance, assuming the player follows through, is on a hill overlooking John’s farm.  By now John’s been reunited with his family and has gone through a few “boring” missions as he tries to reconnect with his son Jack and his wife Abigail.  Once more John asks for the man’s name.  Once more the man refuses.  John, withdrawing his pistol yells, “Damn you!” to which the man responds, “Many have.”  Shots are fired.  The man remains in the space seemingly unharmed.  And then he disappears.

I know that was a lot of summary, but it will serve a purpose.

I promise.

The last time I wrote about side quests I observed that often they do not get the same spotlight as the main story-line mostly because they are not “important” to the immediate narrative.  Side quests are, by their nature, support.  If we think of a videogame like a hamburger then the immediate narrative are the essentials: one beef patty and two slices of bread.  Side quests can, and should when they’re done well, make the burger more flavorful and, depending on the ingredients, a more enjoyable sensation.  Pickles, Mustard, lettuce, bacon, cheese, or grilled onions seasoned with just right amount of salt can be the difference between following John on his trip to save his family or experiencing the oddities which include a man who, according to a number of fans, may be the embodiment of death.

I’m not interested in speculation about who this strange man is, or if he is some kind of spiritual being or essence, or even a symbolic gesture on John Marsten’s path to trying to acquire a simple life.  As far as I’m concerned he’s a man who exists but for a moment and then is gone.  I don’t need or want an explanation because I’m sure whatever I could be offered would be boring or else convoluted.

What I do care about is how he contributes to the game.

The side quest “I Know You” does exactly everything a side quest should:  it allows the player to experience more of the character, world, and design of Red Dead Redemption.  

The man in black provides missions to the player that allow them role-playing options, specifically they have to make a choice.  I noted in the summary that the man tells John to “advise” his friend who’s about to cheat on his wife, and likewise that he has a choice whether to rob or help the nun.  Both of these missions give the player the chance to decide what kind of character they want John to be.  Throughout the game there is an “Honor” meter which is a kind of virtue “experience bar.”  When John helps casual strangers, decides not to kill certain npcs, or helps local law officers by capturing and/or killing criminals they receive an “Honor” bonus.  This translates to direct in-game benefits: higher rewards for jobs and bounties, the “duster coat” costume, and reduced prices by shop-keepers.

I have never played a low-honor run of Red Dead Redemption.

This isn’t bragging on my part.  Each of us play games for our own reasons, and a simulated open-world set in the “old west” is a perfect chance for some to explore darker depths of human behavior in a simulation.  For myself, I just don’t have a desire to live that life, simulated or otherwise.

By selecting the options to “advise” the man not to cheat on his wife with a sex worker, and by offering the Nun money, John’s honor increases and thus helps the player get closer to pre-established benefits.  Simply put, being a virtuous person increases the benefits of play.

Rockstar games tend to have a reputation for being morally ambiguous games, and, to be fair, that’s a fair criticism.  Part of the appeal of most of the Grand Theft Auto games is stealing cars, sleeping with sex-workers, and killing police officers or random npcs for the fun of it.  Red Dead Redemption offers the player the same options but in a historical time-period rather than a contemporary setting.  Indeed it wasn’t uncommon for some players and writers to label the game as “GTA, but in the old west.”  From afar Red Dead Redemption could easily be labeled yet another amoral game in the canon of a production company that banks literally billions of dollars off of people’s desire to simulate psychopathic and antisocial behavior.

This is, like most general statements, partly true but also reveals a proud ignorance. 

Anyone who has played Red Dead Redemption to its completion knows that the game explores the idea of how choice can affect our reality.  It is almost an existential masterpiece in its narrative construction.  John Marsten is given a choice to cooperate with corrupt government officials or allow his wife and child to die.  From this choice springs the entire story of his effort to bring the former members of his gang to justice, and along the way he encounters scores of morally questionable people: the graverobber Seth, the snake oil salesman West Dickens, the drug-addicted and racist anthropologist Professor Trelawney, and the revolutionary Abraham Reyes who uses his influence to overthrow the government of Mexico and sleep with every woman he can find.  Each of these characters, like John, has made choices that result in failure of some kind.

“I Know You” offers the player a chance to make virtuous or malevolent choices that, while it may not save John from his inevitable fate, will afford the player a chance to decide what kind of person they want to be.  In an entire game that explores how choices can impact our destiny it’s in little choices that the measure and character of a person is made.

“I Know You” is a perfect example of what any side-quest in a great video game can and should be.  And it does so without offering an explanation that might cheapen such an experience.


Joshua “Jammer” Smith

10.1.2023

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