Review of Jane Draycott and Kate Cook (eds), Women in Classical Video Games.

Review of Jane Draycott and Kate Cook (eds). 2022. Women in Classical Video Games. Pp. 288. Hb: ISBN 9781350241916, £95; Pb: ISBN 9781350241923, £28.99. Also available as eBook.

The past few years has seen an explosion in the number of volumes dedicated to the study of the ancient world—specifically Greece and Rome—in video games. Women in Classical Video Games, edited by Jane Draycott and Kate Cook, is the second edited volume by Draycott in as many years (following from Women in Historical and Archaeological Video Games) and the third volume on the ancient world and video games published by Bloomsbury in their Imagines series.[1] Comprising fifteen chapters, Women in Classical Video Games is a timely publication that addresses public responses to the inclusion of female characters in classical games and highlights the issues surrounding the presentation of women in them. And a wide range of games is discussed, from big studio games (Assassins Creed Origins and Odyssey) to independent games (Apotheon), from the 1980s to recent years, whether on console, PC, or mobile (Choices: A Courtesan of Rome), and a broad range of game genres. As such, while the volume will primarily be of interest to those studying ancient Greece and Rome, especially their modern receptions, there is also much of value to developers working on games set in these worlds, in a hope that they will avoid the stereotypical tropes that so often plague female characters.

How women—and other minorities—are presented in video games matters, not least because of the reach and popularity of this medium. Or, how they’re not presented—at all—in games, given the ‘appalling lack of female characters in every level of game design’ (Persyn, p.47). For historical games, how events, people, and places are presented reflects popular knowledge of such matters. And, as Orellana Figueroa notes, games in turn contribute to shaping this knowledge. A self-perpetuating circular process is therefore created, and the question (implicit throughout this volume) is how to break this cycle. Online player responses to the inclusion of female generals in strategy games, notably Total War: Rome II and the Civilisation series (Dido of Carthage is discussed by Dufton), is vociferous in many instances, with commentators (typically male) accusing developers of being ahistorical and flouting historical accuracy through the inclusion of prominent women. This invocation of historical accuracy regarding women is indicative of popular knowledge on the topic of ancient warfare and highlights the fixation of certain players. Yet, such outcries for accuracy are selective; Orellana Figueroa notes that there are no similar complaints about inaccuracies regarding the hypersexualisation of women in games, such as the prevalence of bikini armour. Chidwick also addresses how these player responses demonstrate the application of a particular logic to games, even ones set within alternate universes and those that focus on counterfactual histories, in which powerful female figures are a stretch too far.

Discussions about accuracy in historical games occurs repeatedly in studies on the topic, together with the idea of authenticity, i.e., what feels real to players. Draycott addresses this issue in her study of Cleopatra in Assassin’s Creed Origins and Dante’s Inferno; and Origins is particularly susceptible to queries about its level of accuracy, as its developer and publisher Ubisoft have made historical accuracy one of the game’s main pillars. Especially with famous figures such as Cleopatra, developers have to navigate between what is commonly thought and what is the topic of historical scholarship. An interesting suggestion that Draycott raises is whether the fictional character Aya in Origins instead reflects current scholarly discourse surrounding Cleopatra (dual heritage, education, political skill). There are, thus, ways to circumvent the constraints of perceived public expectations. Jones highlights the options available to developers in her study of Eurydice in Hades. The variations found in classical mythological traditions provide developers scope to select, omit, and add material to produce a cohesive and coherent narrative and game world. Lesser-known stories provide more space in which to be creative.

An image of the book cover.

Authenticity draws upon player expectations of the ancient world, which are created through presentations across media and mutual influences. This ‘conscious act of reception’ (Beydler, p.118) reflects a strive for a desired impact rather than for historical accuracy, with games drawing on and refining existing narratives (Ngan; Dufton). Goad’s discussion of the monstrous-feminine demonstrates this point, with certain ‘monsters’ in classical video games transcending classical reception and being a staple of the fantasy and horror genres. Such transmedia responses also transcend geographic borders, and Lowe’s study of a 1980s Japanese game, Athena, highlights different cultural responses to the classical world with, in this instance, the Japanese appropriation of western motifs. In doing so, Lowe also addresses markers, even subtle, that indicate something is classical, e.g., the character wearing a diadem and sandals. Such narrow (i.e., visual) reception is also a feature of the Greek and Roman goddesses included in SMITE: Battleground of the Gods (Beydler), and boils player expectations down to a clear set of features.

Within this question of what is accurate or feels real, how then are women portrayed? The collected chapters demonstrate that women are often depicted in reductive, stereotypical ways, whether goddess or mortal. Aphrodite in God of War III is reduced and transformed into a sexual object that provides a comedic break from the game’s fighting (Ciaccia). The women of Rise of the Argonauts follow a template for ‘normatively attractive women’ (Ngan) that stands in marked contrast to the diversity of the male characters of the game. Unusual women have to transgress this norm, but even in such cases they remain constrained by their relationship to male figures, and so either limited in power or partaking in non-feminist patriarchal gender ideology. Certain games, such as Apotheon, mark female characters as different through game mechanics, with the player character needing to adopt different strategies when fighting against female deities (Norgard)—but goddesses that nevertheless are killed by the game’s male character.

Assassin’s Creed Odyssey, with the option to play as a female protagonist (Kassandra) or a male (Alexios), presents other issues. Despite Kassandra being the developer’s original main character for the game, the studio (Ubisoft) had the male version added and made Alexios the default hero in promotional material, as Cole’s study shows. Beyond marketing, the interchangeability of male and female heroes on one hand promotes a positive image of a female character in a historical game (regardless of how many players actually choose Kassandra). However, as Cole observes, the lack of any differences in gameplay when playing as Kassandra or Alexios creates equality of opportunity of experience between male and female figures in what would have been an unequal world, avoiding engagement with issues that women would have faced. Pushing Cole’s observations further, in such situations women exist in games only as a visual alternative to men, paying lip service to gender inclusion without any real consideration of the implications involved.

Kassandra is not the only women in Odyssey. Tuplin’s study examines the presentation and role of sex-workers in the game and the freedom that historical games have to examine modern anxieties. These women in the game lack the hypersexualisation of women in other games, and the game generally presents a compassionate view of them and their work. Similarly, in Choices: A Courtesan of Rome, Cook notes how courtesanship is presented as a source of freedom and agency for women (notably, the game is an example of the capacity of mobile games to tell different types of stories). Yet, even when reimaging sex work beyond clichés, Odyssey still resorts to the trope of female sexuality being punished with violence. Ciaccia and Chidwick also address the social impact of the portrayal of violence against women in games, especially when the shadow of accuracy over these games serves to connect brutality with attitudes to women.

To reiterate, how games present history—and women—matters. Games contribute to the creation and perpetuation of an ‘ancient history brand’ that’s more durable than the real thing (Chidwick, p.153). ‘Historical accuracy’ is used as a rallying cry for certain, vocal, players to silence minorities, if not to remove them from games altogether (Orellana Figueroa). Yet, accuracy is a topic up for debate, as what appears to be accuracy is in many instances an adherence to certain dominant long-standing historiographies, which have typically been produced by white, male scholars and which focus on history from above. In such accounts, women rarely figure, and it is not surprising that these accounts are reflected in popular culture. Scholarship on the ancient world over recent decades has instead highlighted the lives and experiences of diverse groups of people. As Persyn advocates, the onus is on the scholarly community to diversify the histories that it relates to students and the public in order to see the complexities of the ancient world manifested in popular culture; such diversity may in turn attract greater diversity in the student body and others interested in the ancient world. And any game developer interested in telling different stories that reflect this real diversity have an increasing wealth of resources to draw upon in creating their historical worlds, as long as they’re willing to look for them.

[1] See our reviews of these games: Christian Rollinger, ed., Classical Antiquity in Video Games: Playing with the Ancient World, and Ross Clare, Ancient Greece and Rome in Videogames: Representation, Play, Transmedia.