I'm Done Playing: MARVEL SNAP
In which I jump off the hamster wheel
I’m Done Playing is a feature that attempts to solve two problems: (a) I play video games long after I’ve stopped enjoying them because I want to finish them, and (b) I don’t write as often as I’d like to.
If I’d rather write something about a video game than keep playing it, it’s probably about time for me to stop playing it. And, the sense of completion from writing a blog post is enough to allow my compulsive brain to set the game down.
Imagine a collectible card game with all the superfluous mechanics stripped away. Decks are small, games are short, there is only one way to win, and every card works more-or-less the same. That game is MARVEL SNAP, and its designer Ben Brode’s next step down the path to the ultimate card game, a game that has only two cards: Life and Death.
I’m done playing MARVEL SNAP.
What is this?
MARVEL SNAP is a collectible card battler chock full of licensed Marvel (MARVEL?) characters. It’s a simple game: there’s three lanes, you place your Marvel(tm) heroes in a lane, and whoever wins the most lanes wins the match. If you want more information, here’s noted game designer Ben Brode walking you through a match:
Is it fun?
Sort of. Combat is the primary metaphor in most collectible card games, but MARVEL SNAP doesn’t contain combat, so it feels very novel. But it’s so simple that it’s not much fun once the novelty wears off. At that point, the game relies primarily on the progression mechanics.
What do you mean?
The gameplay is mediocre, but MARVEL SNAP has perhaps the most powerful progression system I’ve seen. Here’s an example: Let’s say you win a match. During play, you completed two of your daily missions, and one of the season pass missions. You’ve also unlocked upgrade orbs for a card you used in the match. You get your credits from the daily missions, then go to your inventory to upgrade your card. Upgrading your card advances your collection progression, which unlocks a new card. You had some upgrade orbs laying around for that card, so you upgrade it immediately. That accomplishes another season pass quest, which means you’ve got enough season pass points to unlock the next reward on that tree. The credits you’ve gained from that allow you to upgrade another card…etc., etc., and so on. Excelsior!
You must be exaggerating.
I’m not. Early in the game, you probably spend as much time unlocking things as you do playing the actual game. This lasts for about four or five hours. Your brain is bathed in dopamine. But eventually you run out of quests, and you stop getting rewards. You become confused as to why the game isn’t as fun, and you realize one of two things: a) The actual game was never that fun to begin with or b) You could give MARVEL SNAP your credit card and get right back to unlocking orbs.
Did you give them your credit card?
Of course not. That money’s earmarked for Wizards of the Coast.
Does MARVEL SNAP pass the Bechdel test?
Yes, if you’re a woman playing the game, and you use the “What just happened?!” emote directed at another woman player, referring to a female superhero card.
Would MARVEL SNAP be fun to play drunk?
Yes, absolutely. It’s killer filler, and requires very little thinking. You can click a few buttons and watch fireworks splash across your screen while looking at favorite characters from a treasured time of your childhood.
Would you recommend MARVEL SNAP?
Sure. If you’re a fan of the collectible card game genre, MARVEL SNAP is worth checking out. It’s flashy and perfectly engineered. But be warned: the substance underneath is simple and repetitive, and the surrounding spectacle is more important than the thing itself… Sort of like MARVEL properties in general.
Yawn.
What?
MARVEL criticism is boring. The movies have been around for close to twenty years at this point, and even the backlash against them is cliche. And guess what: they’re not going anywhere. Clearly, they hold some deep appeal, and criticizing them as empty, poorly written, and slick like a perfect turd doesn’t engage with the core issue: people love these things. In 2008 MARVEL created a new genre, one that has now been around long enough to have subgenres within it. Superhero movies are large enough to allow for smaller parasites (the YouTuber, the FunkoPopper) to live entirely off of the effluvia the movies have created. There has to be something more to say about that than the entirely obvious criticism of them as terrible art.
Alright, fair play. Let’s try this: the MARVEL movie is an expression of the fantasies of the American psyche in the same way Western stories were back in the 1940s. So let’s talk about cowboy stories.
The 1930s-1950s were about collectivization. The way out of the Great Depression, it seemed, was massive government programs giving people free shit. This is commonplace to us nowadays, but, at the time, it was a dramatic shift from the world people were used to: a world of small communities, and limited government that wouldn’t poke its nose too far into your business. As Americans took the needed step towards the benefits of collectivization with things like the Tennesse Valley Authority and mass war mobilization, they anchored themselves by turning towards Westerns.
Cowboy stories depicted a world that was rapidly becoming obsolete: a world where there was no outside help for small towns facing misfortune, a world where a man could travel town to town making a living for himself, a world where one frequently made choices that meant life or death. These stories showed a world where self-reliance, above all, was the necessary virtue for survival. They served as pacifiers to a population that was shifting from the frontier to the city.
So is it with MARVEL movies. The shift of today is from collectivization to corporatism. America has moved away from collective action organized by government, and towards a world where markets, algorithms, and “company policies” dictate one’s actions. Consider: you work for a multinational corporation where you have little to no control over the circumstances you work under, or what your work is used for. When you leave your job, you buy dinner at a chain restaurant, or groceries at Wal-Mart. When you go home, odds are you spend a large chunk of your leisure time passively scrolling on a app controlled by an algorithm tailered to you, but out of your control. The most significant choice you face on a daily basis is what to watch on Netflix, and that paralyzes you. By and large, we have relinquished the burden of choice to large entities.
For the average citizen, this may be a good trade: they are allowed to drop the obligations (taxes, civic engagement, military service) demanded of them by government, but can reap the benefits gained from working under massive organizations. The costs are real, but are generally paid by people who are low-status: the working poor, the small business owner, foreigners. These people are screwed over by the corporation, and they are powerless to stop them.
How does all this relate to superhero movies?
MARVEL movies remind people of a time where government was powerful and on their side. The supervillians are massive corporations, wielding power for their own self interest, while the heros are the government: sometimes hated and feared by the people, but always on their side.
Superhero movies ask: Wouldn’t it be nice if there was a multi-national that was on your side? Wouldn’t it be nice if there was an entity that could stand up to these colossi you skitter under every day? They’d be better than you, no doubt. They probably wouldn’t even interact with you very much. But they’d help you. They’d save you from the forces arrayed against you, forces that look too powerful to stop. They’d save the day.
So that’s MARVEL SNAP, huh?
Yep. Until next time MARVEL fans! Excelsior!