Bringing the Foreign into Play - Cultural Transfer in Video Game Localization

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BRINGING THE FOREIGN INTO PLAY Cultural Transfer in Video Game Localization

Milla Hyttinen University of Tampere School of Modern Languages and Translation Studies Translation Studies (English) MA Thesis May 2010

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Tampereen yliopisto Käännöstiede (englanti)

Kieli- ja käännöstieteiden laitos

HYTTINEN, MILLA: Bringing the Foreign into Play – Cultural Transfer in Video Game Localization

Pro gradu -tutkielma, 87 sivua + suomenkielinen lyhennelmä, 10 sivua.

Kevät 2010

Abstrakti

Tässä tutkielmassa tarkastellaan videopelien lokalisointia ja pyritään selvittämään, kuuluuko lokalisointiin määritelmällisesti kääntämisen rajat ylittävää kulttuurista adaptaatiota.

Aiemmassa tutkimuksessa pelit määritellään usein toiminnallisiksi viihdetuotteiksi, joiden kulttuurisella alkuperällä ei ole merkitystä varsinaisen pelikokemuksen kannalta. Tästä johtuen vahva kotouttaminen olisi perusteltu yleisstrategia. Lisäksi lokalisoinnin ymmärretään usein pitävän sisällään kulttuurista kotouttamista, joka ei kuuluisi kääntämisen piiriin. Pyrin kyseenalaistamaan tätä ja hakemaan samalla tarkennusta lokalisoinnin ja pelien määritelmään suhteessa kääntämiseen.

Tutkimuksen lähtökohtia ovat aikaisempi tutkimus ja lokalisoinnin kaupallinen määritelmä, joita tarkastellaan teoriaosiossa rinnakkain pelien olennaisimpien piirteiden ja kääntämisen määritelmän kanssa.

Tutkimusaineistoksi valikoitui visuaalisesti ja alkuasetelmaltaan lähtökulttuuriinsa sijoittuva japanilainen peli sekä sen Pohjois-Amerikkaan ja Eurooppaan lokalisoidut versiot. Koska peli heijastaa eksplisiittisesti lähtökulttuuriaan ja lähtö- ja kohdekulttuuripiirit ovat hyvin kaukana toisistaan, oletin, että kulttuurinen adaptaatio nousisi selkeästi esiin siinä tapauksessa, että se olisi erottamaton osa lokalisointia. Vieraannuttavampaa strategiaa pidin puolestaan merkkinä kääntämisestä.

Tutkittu peli osoittautui aiempien tutkimusten väittämiin nähden hyvin vieraannuttavaksi eikä sisältänyt käytännössä lainkaan kulttuurista adaptaatiota, jonka olisi voinut tulkita kääntämisen ulkopuoliseksi. Pidin tätä osoituksena siitä, ettei pelilokalisointiin kuulu määritelmällisesti kääntämisen ulkopuolista kulttuurista adaptaatiota. Sen sijaan on erotettavissa seuraavat kaksi lokalisoinnin ominaisuutta, joista jälkimmäinen saattaa olla erityisen helposti sekoitettavissa kulttuuriseen adaptaatioon: tekninen lokalisointi ja aluekohtainen lokalisointi.

Tutkimuksen johtopäätöksenä oli, että pelit eivät eroa muista, perinteisemmistä tekstityypeistä syvällisesti kääntämisen ja sen haasteiden kannalta, mistä syystä pelien kielellistä ja kulttuurista välittämistä on perustelluinta kutsua kääntämiseksi lokalisoinnin sijaan käännöstieteen piirissä. Kyseessä on kuitenkin kääntämisen erikoisala, joka ansaitsee itsessään lisää tutkimusta erityisesti pelikontekstin ja multimodaalisuuden vaikutuksesta kääntämiseen sekä kulttuurin ilmenemisestä peleissä.

Avainsanat: videopelit, lokalisointi, adaptaatio, pelien kääntäminen, pelitutkimus, konsolipelit, tietokonepelit, vieraannuttaminen, kotouttaminen

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1. Introduction

Video games represent a relatively young form of entertainment that is quickly gaining in popularity and social visibility. Multidisciplinary studies on games have proliferated since the late 1990s (Williams and Smith, 2007: 2), but the linguistic and cultural content and translation of games remain relatively scarcely studied areas, even in the field of Translation Studies.

The practice of what is nowadays called “video game localization” has nevertheless been going on for a few decades and helped catapult the games industry into dramatic growth by the 21^st century. Rendering games usable and understandable outside their country and language of origin facilitates international sales, which not only account for a substantial portion of the game publishers’ profits, but also drive the dissemination of new design ideas and innovations within the games industry (Chandler, 2005: 3; Kalata, 2007; Kohler, 2005).

As an important factor in the growth and development of gaming, game localization makes for a rich and worthwhile object of academic interest.

Due to the fairly recent emergence and rapid development of the game localization practice itself, most of the terminology arises from the practical, commercial realm. Game publishers and industry professionals view game localization as a way to further increase revenue and have these interests in mind in regard to all terminology and guides written on the subject.

The main reason why the entire process is referred to as “localization” rather than

“translation” is that there are significant technical considerations and more staff involved in rendering a game into another language than with the translation of any other entertainment medium, making the process a part of game development from the outset.

Beneath technical and practical considerations, however, there is the question of culture, which seems like the most interesting converging point of the localization practice and Translation Studies. In the localization industry context, cultural transfer is often squarely set apart from the translation of linguistic content, and the two are viewed as separate subsets of the overall localization process (Fry, 2003: 13). This is in direct conflict with Translation Studies, which are increasingly strongly inclined to view cultural considerations, even extra- linguistic ones, as an inseparable part of the translation process (Pym, 2005: 7–8). These differences have not been exhaustively explained yet.

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What truly piqued my interest is that so many of the pioneering academic studies on video game localization seem to maintain that video games by default require more drastic and consistent cultural adaptation than any traditional medium (e.g., Mangiron and O’Hagan, 2006; O’Hagan, 2007; Bernal Merino 2006; Bernal Merino, 2007). The question arises, is there something about the nature of games or localization itself that requires this? Cultural adaptation or domestication in translation—erasing some of the original, foreign cultural markers and replacing them with domestic ones—is a translation strategy that has historically been at its most radical in literary translations geared toward children (Klingberg, 1986: 14). As gamer demographics provided by the Entertainment Software Association (ESA) in 2009 show, however, the average age of today’s game-playing population is 35. Furthermore, it seems inexplicable that international game sales could have fuelled interest in gaming and the development of video games if a home-grown impression is of prime importance.

It would seem that there are still very interesting areas to explore in the basics of the cultural nature and transfer of video games, which is why the purpose of this study is to delve deeper into them. Using the definition of video games, localization industry terms and earlier research on video game localization as a starting point, this study will zero in on the cultural aspect of the localization process within a Translation Studies framework. The research question is this: does video game localization inherently entail cultural adaptation that is outside the scope of traditional translation? If it does, how do these changes relate to translation? If it does not, why does it seem that way? The premise here is naturally that cultural adaptation can generally be seen as something relating intimately to translation, and also that the way and degree to which adaptation is employed in translation usually depends on the circumstances rather than on any specific medium (see Oittinen, 2000: 76–84).

I will begin by studying the most relevant aspects of the game medium in Chapter 2 and move on to examine the industry concept of video game localization as it relates to video games and translation and discuss the research problem in more detail in Chapter 3. Chapter 4 introduces the research material and defines the method, which is followed by the empirical part of this thesis in Chapter 5. I seek to answer the research question by carrying out a qualitative, in-depth analysis on a Japanese PlayStation 2 game, Zero: Akai Chō, and two of its English localized versions, released in North America and Europe.

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There were three essential criteria for selecting the games: (1) the source game had to reflect its cultural origin explicitly, (2) the source and target cultures had to be far apart, and (3) the target cultures had to represent significant market areas. I assumed that with this type of material, any cultural adaptation beyond translation would stand out particularly clearly.

This is because translation as such tends to be tilted toward foreignization when the distance between the source and target cultures is great, whereas the sheer size of the North American and European market areas should call for significant adaptational localization changes based on the industry definition of localization.

By looking for and examining localization changes as well as translation decisions, I hope to gain some clarity into how localization and translation relate to each other when it comes to cultural transfer. As I base my analysis on the assumption that any cultural feature in the game could have been modified in the localization process, what is left unchanged is just as interesting as what has been changed.

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2. Video Games—Interplay of Function and Meaning

This chapter explores the most relevant aspects of video games. The purpose is to gain some preliminary insight into how games differ from traditional media and in what ways their cultural origin manifests itself.

The term “video game” is frequently used to refer to games played on a computer as well as games played on a separate game console. Further broadened, it may refer to any type of digital games, such as mobile and arcade games. Although I will use the term “video game”

in its relatively loose sense with a particular focus on console and computer games, it warrants mentioning that not everything can be generalized to apply to even these two types of games. The gaming platform entails many differences in the genre selection, functionality and sales of the games developed for them. I will therefore also use more accurate terms when a distinction needs to be made. For the most part, however, the perspective from which games are discussed in this chapter does not necessarily call for a clearer distinction.

The game medium is marked by rapid development. The evolution of commercial video games—computer and console games alike—has progressed hand in hand with the advancement of technology. That is to say, in leaps and bounds. As technology improves, video games are also becoming increasingly complex in content, presentation and functionality. The new technical sophistication brings with it not only improved graphic performance, but also worlds of deepening representation and experience.

In 1972, the digital table tennis game Pong, featuring a square dot bouncing between two vertical lines, seemed technically and graphically sophisticated when compared to a slightly older television tennis game Odyssey, which not only managed to have poorer graphics, but also made less sense and forced players to keep score on paper (Kohler, 2005: 14). Today, both of these games seem like the epitome of simplicity when compared to the latest sports games or any other popular titles, illustrating the quantum leaps that video games have been taking. Realistic or artistic graphics, nuanced themes, complex controls, vast game worlds or spaces and voice-acting have become the norm in most established game genres.

Parallel to this type of deepening development, the genre selection has also expanded greatly and includes game types that may only barely qualify as video games at all. This diversity is

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what makes video games particularly challenging to define. For the purposes of this study, I will concentrate mostly on console and computer games that have clearly evolved from the earliest prototypes of video games, “video games proper,” so to speak. This refers to games that are primarily played as an end in themselves, rather than as a means to do something else that could also be done without the video game medium, such as to get fit with Wii Fit, sing in SingStar or test one’s trivia knowledge in Buzz! Even with this preliminary distinction, the full spectrum of games that should fit one definition is still quite staggering.

Contemporary game studies distinguish between two basic directions or perspectives from which the task of defining video games can be approached. One approach is to see video games as deriving from traditional rule-bound games, such as board games, and to seek a definition through the concepts of rules and play that are common to all video games (ludology). The other approach is to view video games through the lens of traditional forms of storytelling, such as film, with the aim of seeing how games resemble or differ from these narrative constructions (narratology). These two perspectives, ludology and narratology, have in some contexts been perceived as contradictory, but considering the complexity of games, it is more accurate to see them as complementary. (Frasca, 1999; Eskelinen, 2004; Juul, 2001; Konzack, 2007: 119–121).

Approaching the subject from a localization industry perspective, Vanessa Wood from Sony Computer Entertainment Europe maintains that video games are becoming more and more like movies (Bernal Merino, 2009). This could be seen as a narratological view. Because the perspective of this thesis is focused on video game localization—a process that is becoming more complex as games themselves continue evolving—it makes sense to begin by taking a look at how games and film are in fact very different, and to go on to explore ways in which they may be seen as coming closer together. This approach is intended to weave ludological and narratological definitions of games together from the particular perspective of this study.

2.1 Interaction vs. Interpretation in Games and Film

Film is an art form that traditionally relies on linear, predetermined story-telling, be it verbal, visual, aural or all of these combined, to capture and keep the viewer’s attention. In contrast, although the majority of today’s video games feature narrative elements and a frame story

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that leads the action forward, games are generally not played for any narration as such, but for the immersive, challenging, interactive experience that they offer. As Vuorela (2007: 23) points out, from a game developer’s point of view, games are basically made up of a sequence of interactive functions, whereas the game story merely provides the framework.

Therefore the single most distinctive feature of video games is interactivity, which is also commonly referred to as “gameplay.” More specifically, gameplay means the actual mechanics that define how players can interact with the game environment, and can be considered to be the only truly necessary part of a game. The popular puzzle game Tetris from 1984 is frequently used to illustrate this (Konzack, 2007: 120). Tetris has nothing in the way of a narrative; it relies solely on gameplay that consists of fitting different shapes together by manipulating them as they fall from the top of the screen.

Gameplay as the raison d’être of games is therefore what ultimately sets games apart from films and other narrative constructions. This observation is the main premise of the ludological approach. Some ludology-based arguments go further to claim that games cannot be considered as a medium of artistic expression similar to films due to gameplay (Picot, 2009; Vuorela, 2007: 23). If art is equated with a creation that can only be interpreted, not interacted with, then there is no denying that games do not qualify as art. While films emphasize the creator, the “story-teller,” games can effectively make players the authors of their own experience. What this argument fails to consider, however, is that it may not be accurate to define the gaming experience solely through gameplay, and there may be another order of expression taking place in games. This is where narratology can play a role in complementing the definition of games.

As Thompson (2007: 58) points out in his book for aspiring game designers, even games with little or no story need context and meaning. The overall gaming experience is composed not only of gameplay, but also of the meanings built around and within it. Throughout this thesis, I will refer to these meanings as “representation.” The simplest example would be the square dot in Pong, which in the context of the game represents a ball in a table tennis match.

Tetris is a very rare type of video game in its level of abstraction, but even it has clearly defined polyomino shapes (“Tetriminoes”), which together with gameplay bring puzzles and construction toys to mind.

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The reason why the role of these meanings may be difficult to see by comparing games and films is that the concept of representation in games cannot be understood in an exactly similar manner as representation in film. Lacking the dimension of gameplay, a film could not even exist without consistent representation. In games, however, representation is present to highly varying degrees and in different forms for different games and entirely different purposes, often becoming meaningful only as the game is played. The concepts of representation and gameplay will be further examined in the following section.

2.2 Representation and Gameplay

So far, it has been established that a game is made up of gameplay and some type of representation. What is not entirely clear yet is the relationship between the two.

It could very well be argued that it makes next to no difference whether the dot in Pong is a ball or not; the game is fun to play all the same. However, thinking of Pong—consciously or unconsciously—as representing a table tennis match with a ball and two paddles makes instantly much more sense than a white dot wandering from one end of the screen to another with two vertical lines to make it change direction. Representation is therefore the point from which the game derives its identity and meaning. The functional gameplay in Pong, apart from representation, is to take carefully coordinated and timed action in order to keep the white dot from disappearing from the screen, and ultimately to reach a high score.

Once the fundamental workings of the game are figured out, it would seem that all that truly matters in games such as Pong are what the player sees on screen and how he or she reacts to it (see Picot, 2009). However, it needs to be pointed out that this is an example of both gameplay and representation in their embryonic forms. Essentially, the action is an ongoing repetition of the same simple function, and while the flow of the game clearly resembles that of a table tennis match, there is nothing about a square dot in itself that says “ball.”

As was pointed out at the beginning of this chapter, games are quickly evolving. In light of this, it is very interesting at this point to take a brief look further back in time and note that one of the earliest known digital games, Spacewar! developed in 1961, was actually far more complicated in functionality than Pong (1972). So complicated, in fact, that at the time it was hardly comprehensible outside computer-savvy circles. (Kohler, 2005: 14–15). It did have a

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representational identity as a space game, with two space ships, missiles and stars, but relied so heavily on physics and complex controls that representation was left far behind functionality. The game had to be learned from a lengthy instruction manual, which may very well be why Pong came to be the first truly successful mainstream game rather than Spacewar! (ibid.: 15).

The most important implication here is that sophisticated and complicated action in a video game needs equally complex or realistic layers of representation and meaning to make sense of what can actually be done in the game. In a sense, development had to backtrack from Spacewar! and begin to build up from the rudimentary basics of both gameplay and representation and keep them in balance in order for games to make their breakthrough as a medium. Even the primitive representational identity of Pong implies that in its more developed form, representation comes to intertwine inseparably with gameplay to produce the overall gaming experience.

In a more modern video game, such as Tomb Raider (1996), representation is much more explicit and realistic than in either Pong or Spacewar! The game features a three-dimensional world, a detailed frame story, recognizable settings such as ancient tombs in Egypt, and a playable human character, identified as a female archaeologist from England. The overall theme of adventure can be unmistakably derived from all the representational elements and the way they function together with gameplay, which is complex in equal measure to representation.

Summing games up as a balanced synthesis of gameplay and representation is a sufficient and fairly comprehensive definition for the purposes of this study. It serves as the basis for the following question, which is particularly relevant when considering adaptation in game localization: gameplay and representation may have to be in balance, but since gameplay can be seen as the heart of a game, does this mean that representational elements are interchangeable? If it does, it might be hypothesized that cultural adaptation in game localization is based on the nature of games. It is also the most essential question in determining whether or not games can ultimately be seen as a medium of artistic expression.

This will be considered in the next section, introducing the central concepts of product and artifact and returning to draw upon the comparison with film.

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2.3 The Twofold Nature of Video Games: Product/Artifact

In his research article on video game localization, Miguel Á. Bernal Merino (2006: 27) expresses the crucial insight that “a video game is a ‘product designed for mass consumption’ and an ‘artistic team creation’ at the same time.” He speaks of the “duality nature” of games as products and artifacts, defining an artifact as a unique aesthetic creation, whereas the primary purpose of a product, such as a car or utility software, is to cater to the needs and expectations of consumers (ibid.: 28). In other words, products are all about fulfilling a certain function, while artifacts come into being through artistic expression.

Although Bernal Merino does not consider this division to be enough to strike a clear difference between games and other audiovisual products, which was his purpose, it is highly useful in the context of this study when set side by side with the concepts discussed in the previous section. While the product/artifact division does not directly translate to the duality of gameplay/representation, there are certain parallels that aid in exploring the meaning and importance of representation in a game.

How do the definitions of a product and artifact apply to a video game, then? First of all, games can be seen as products because the central importance of gameplay makes them

“functional,” and in that sense closer to high-tech toys or utility software than films. The product nature is also visible in the extent to which game content can potentially be edited for release into different market areas. Bernal Merino (2006: 28) goes so far as to say that

“everything in a video game is open to particular changes for specific territories, if it would mean a potential increase in sales.” Considering that the cost of producing a typical commercial video game rises above $10 million, it is obviously in the game developers’ and publishers’ interests to try to meet consumer expectations (Fernandez, 2008: 181). It may be difficult at first to see how this could be reconciled with seeing games as artifacts. There are, however, numerous ways to point out how games are more than simply products.

One particularly poignant way to illustrate the artifact nature of games would be to consider cultural acceptability through the example of video game controversy. Pure products, such as utility software, rarely contain culturally sensitive or controversial elements. The most likely explanation for this is that the manufacturers and marketers of these products see the intended function as taking precedence over any representational elements that might be

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considered offensive or controversial and thereby cause legal problems or hurt sales. In creative and expressive works like films, however, these elements may be used as part of the expression, inextricably woven into the fabric of the story and overall presentation.

It follows that if games are solely products with functionality—entertaining gameplay—as their only unchangeable core part, controversial representational elements can only be seen as a superfluous yet entertaining addition that is easily replaceable. The question is, can controversial representation actually be an inherent part of a game as a whole? As gameplay and representation continue developing, the answer is increasingly clearly “yes.”

An enlightening example of this is the phenomenally successful game series Grand Theft Auto (GTA), developed by the Scottish video game developer Rockstar North. The Gamer’s Edition of the Guinness World Records 2009 names GTA as the most controversial game series in the history of gaming (Glenday and Pullin, 2009: 108). This is based on the amount of media attention the series has received as one of the most notorious examples of games whose content is perceived as promoting violence and glamorizing crime. In GTA games, the objective of the main character is to make his way up through the criminal underworld in a vast fictional city, which is usually modeled more or less identifiably after an existing metropolis. In the latest installment of the series, GTA IV, the setting is a highly realistic rendering of New York City, dubbed “Liberty City,” where the Eastern European main character arrives at the outset in search of a better life and finds himself knee-deep in the business of crime.

Generally speaking, game developers have to think twice before using depictions of violence, sexual and criminal acts, as this type of content will invariably be reflected in age ratings and may even result in bans in some countries, obviously risking sales (Chandler, 2005: 26–27).

However, Rockstar North has incorporated many explicitly violent and sexual themes as part of the GTA games. Despite severe restrictions and widespread media controversy rising from these elements, the game series in its uncensored form has received perfect and near- perfect reviews from game critics and become the most successful video game series of all times on PlayStation 2 (Glenday and Pullin, 2009: 108–109).

While it might be argued that the controversial elements are used as an additional selling point by simply gluing them to an already functional gameplay, signs of the very opposite

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can be seen in reviews of GTA IV, one of which summarizes the appeal of the game in the following words:

But while the mechanics, side missions and other core gameplay elements are all fantastic, it's the story and overall presentation that elevates GTA IV to heights very rarely seen in gaming. Rockstar North has once again done an amazing job of walking the fine line between humor and seriousness with characters that you're immediately able to connect to. They're almost all bad people, to be sure, but each of them has character weaknesses and vulnerabilities that make them real. (Roper, 2008).

Furthermore, Gonzalez’s (2004) article on a wide variety of controversial video games suggests that games that rely purely on violence, breaking taboos and shocking audiences are not likely to reach particular success, not necessarily even when propelled by the free publicity bought by controversy. Therefore, the controversial themes of the highly successful GTA series may be considered to be an inherent part of the creation as a whole and to function on the game world’s own terms and meanings, together with the gameplay.

To offer a slightly different kind of example, in 2007, two years prior to its release, the Japanese survival horror game Resident Evil 5 was accused of being racist on the basis of its first trailer, where a white protagonist was shown shooting black zombies in an African village (Pham, 2009). Whereas the developers of GTA IV had consciously woven in controversial themes, it had most likely not even occurred to the developers of Resident Evil 5 that their game might be perceived as racist. They were aware of the entire context, but the trailer portrayed only a small part of the game. As a result, the developer Capcom chose not to change the content in response to negative feedback while the game was still in development. Although an African female protagonist was added to the game after the initial trailer was released, the game’s producer, Jun Takeuchi, stated that the criticism had had no effect on the game design (McWhertor, 2008). In a Los Angeles Times article, Capcom’s spokesman Chris Kramer was quoted justifying the choice of Africa as a location for the game by emphasizing the logic of the game series’ frame story (Pham, 2009). It was also pointed out that when seen as a whole, the game was clearly not racist (ibid.).

As can be seen on the basis of the previous examples, even serious considerations of what is culturally acceptable do not necessarily dictate the representational content of video games in the way they might affect other software products and their related imagery. Game developers can justify their choices of content through the inner logic and expression of the

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game as a whole. In early games, these elements may indeed have been superfluous or even offensive, but today the way they can be incorporated into the meanings of the game changes the interpretation completely. In the sense of overall expression receiving priority even in some commercial games, it is indeed justifiable to view games as artifacts such as films, in addition to products. Many games do, in fact, sell for their overall artifact identities as much as for providing enjoyable gameplay. They are also rated on those grounds by game critics, and as Dave Ranyard from Sony points out, game review scores are very important to game developers (Bernal Merino, 2009).

The developing game stories told through both representation and gameplay are clearly bringing games closer to movies in their capacity as artifacts, but the fundamental differences still remain—and will remain. To say that these “game stories” are constructed and enjoyed similarly to films and separately from gameplay would be entirely mistaken or simplistic at best. Game developer Michaël Samyn captures this very well when describing his mostly non-commercial games:

When we talk about “story” with respect to our games, we don’t mean linear plot- based narrative constructions. When we say story, we refer to the meanings of the game, the content, its theme. (…) [W]e believe that contemporary computer games have already crossed the borders of traditional games. Most of them just don’t realize it yet.

They don’t realize that the most interesting aspect of their design is the way in which they express the story: through the environment, the animations, the colour, the lighting, etc. (Samyn, 2008).

While commercial game developers may not have the luxury to explore the artistic potential of the medium to the fullest, as Picot points out (2009), it seems clear that the game medium contains representation that is not separable from the game as a whole. This in turn would qualify games as a medium of artistic expression similarly to films and other traditional narratives, meaning that they must also be tied to their culture of origin in different ways than such products as utility software and DVD players. The next section takes a closer look at how culture manifests itself in representation and gameplay.

2.4 Culture in Representation and Gameplay

At a time when monochrome dots and lines and simple controls were the only building blocks of a game, it would have been quite an accomplishment to create a deeply culture- specific game. This is not to say, however, that the earliest games were not affected by their

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culture of origin. In recent studies, culture has been shown to be inherent in every aspect of game design, built into the very makeup of a game (Kalata, 2007; O’Hagan, 2009). From the way controls, characters and game worlds are designed to camera angles and the level of linearity or non-linearity in gameplay, games coming from different cultures can feature notable differences (Kalata, ibid.). Even games that in principle belong to the same genre may look, feel and function very differently, depending on the origin of the game.

In addition to the inherent cultural specificity, modern games can also have an explicit layer of cultural representation, as in-game graphics allow for increasingly realistic depiction. The representation of a game may therefore draw upon a highly realistic cultural setting, as in the case of the distinctly American GTA IV. However, if games that are based on films and other predetermined stories and locations are excluded, it has traditionally been more typical for games to take place in imaginary settings. The word “imaginary” here does not necessarily refer to full-fledged fantasy worlds; it can refer to real-world or historical settings, but the anonymity and lack of clear cultural or ethnic markers can make the settings seemingly culture-neutral in most games. This is particularly typical in Japanese games.

Iwabuchi (2002) uses the expression “culturally odorless,” or mukokuseki in Japanese, to describe these worlds that seemingly exist in no-man’s land.

One reason why fantasy settings appear so common in games could be that representation that is based on imagination opens up more possibilities and freedom when it comes to designing gameplay. Realistic depiction requires that game mechanics also abide by the laws of physics. For example, a human character in a relatively realistic setting cannot logically be designed with an ability to jump from the ground to the roof of a building. An imaginary representational quality has to be added to account for breaking the scientific laws.

Consequently, realistic cultural settings are also rarer.

Even when a game does take place in a realistic cultural setting, it is not necessarily that in which the game was developed. This is exemplified by GTA IV which is set in an American cultural space, but was developed in Scotland. Explicit cultural representation is therefore not a perfectly straightforward or even a common matter in games, but to a large extent, the same could probably be said about any expressive medium. The story of a novel may or may not be set in the real world or in the culture that the writer grew up in, but it will still reflect

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its cultural origin, if not in anything else, in the way the story is constructed, linguistic features and the thinking that underlies it.

Almost every game naturally also has linguistic elements, which in the gaming context can be assigned various roles and appear in many different text types. According to Frank Dietz (2006: 124), the purpose of language in games is to help and instruct the player to proceed, while at the same time introducing elements of intrigue, fleshing out characters and bringing depth and authenticity to the game world. Based on this, it can be said that language in games can either serve the functional gameplay or mesh with the representation of the game.

Examples of the “function-serving” language would be commands, menus, system feedback and instructions on screen or in the user manual. The second category includes spoken and written dialog, cut-scenes, letters, news articles and information within the game world.

Linguistic content of games has clearly followed the general development of gameplay and representation. There are changes to the more verbose even in heavily action-driven game genres such as first-person shooters, as can be seen by comparing Doom from 1993 to Doom 3, released in 2004. However, the process has not been as simple as mere growth in linguistic content. Even though most of the earliest games contained very little if any text, there are also many examples of 1980 computer games that were purely text-based and relied on language parsing, known as Interactive Fiction (Keller, 2007). It would perhaps be better to say that linguistic content is woven into the game as a whole with increasing sophistication.

To sum up, culture can play an explicit part in creating and conveying a game’s meanings, but regardless of whether a game has realistic cultural representation, cultural influence is deeply ingrained in the very fabric and architecture of the game as well as its language.

Despite external and structural differences, games would therefore appear to represent the same type of cultural products as films and literature in the most fundamental sense.

Nevertheless, the cultural and linguistic transfer of video games is discussed in the framework of localization. The next chapter takes a closer look at the reasons behind this.

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3. Localization, Translation and Video Games

I have already used the word “localization” throughout the early part of this thesis to refer to the overall process of creating new language versions of a video game. As mentioned in the introduction, this is a term used by the games industry itself. There is no general consensus yet on what the linguistic and cultural transfer of games should be referred to in a Translation Studies framework, but the question has been taken under closer scrutiny in several studies. Some of the most noteworthy contributions to the subject have been made by Miguel Á. Bernal Merino (2006), Minako O’Hagan (2007) and Carmen Mangiron (Mangiron and O’Hagan, 2006). Most of the pioneering studies borrow from the localization industry terminology, as there are very few other sources of information available.

The only consensus seems to be on the view that video game localization entails more consistent and large-scale cultural adaptation than any other medium. In fact, this in itself complicates questions relating to terminology. Would it not be inaccurate to refer to the linguistic and cultural transfer of games as translation alone, assuming that there is another level of cultural transfer at play that no other type of translation entails? Should the term

“localization” or some other distinguishing name be used to accurately reflect this? On the other hand, is it too broad a term? Mangiron and O’Hagan (2006: 20) have suggested the term “transcreation” to refer to the “quasi absolute freedom to modify, omit, and even add any elements which they deem necessary to bring the game closer to the players.”

This thesis seeks to question the idea itself that there is a fundamentally unique quality in the cultural transfer of games, which would call for extensive cultural adaptation beyond translation. If such a quality exists, the reason for it would have to be found either in the nature of games or in the nature or definition of localization. I have already tentatively pointed out that the game medium itself does not seem to differ from other media in a way that would by itself warrant significant cultural adaptation. In fact, such adaptations might rather be ill-advised considering the balanced structure of gameplay and representation. The explanation may therefore very well lie in localization itself.

Since most of the earlier studies have had industry terminology and definitions as their starting point, I will begin by taking a look at localization in its original industry context and then examine attempts to move it into the realm of Translation Studies.

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3.1 Easier Done Than Defined

Localization as a term seems to have gained in popularity with the proliferation of computer software over the past few decades. Consequently, the general meaning of the word is nowadays most commonly associated with technology. Considering the size of the localization industry and the frequent use of the word, it is nevertheless still surprisingly far from a clearly defined and unequivocal term, as theory lags behind practice. In fact, it is questionable whether such a thing as “localization theory” exists. As Anthony Pym (2005: 4) aptly puts it, “[t]here is something willfully perverse in dragging ideas away from the realm of commercial practice and making them act like a scholarly discipline.”

Much has been written on and around the topic of localization in recent years, but as Folaron (2006: 196-197) points out, the way localization is defined in the industry tends to vary greatly depending on the perspectives of those who formulate the definitions. In fact, what localization even entails can differ substantially depending on what is localized—a car, a magazine, a piece of software or a website. Even if the scope is narrowed to technology- based products, as it will be here, forming a balanced view is not easy considering the complexity of the process and the gamut of different professionals involved. Although this is good to bear in mind, some generalizations naturally still can and have to be drawn.

Although problems may arise when the term is specified, the most common industry definitions of localization nevertheless have the same core.

Bert Esselink, one of the most well-known and often-quoted authors on the subject of localization, defines localization as follows:

In a nutshell, localization revolves around combining language and technology to produce a product that can cross cultural and language barriers. No more, no less.

(Esselink, 2003: 4).

This definition seems to encapsulate very well what the word refers to in the modern day.

However, while it is certainly true that localization is no less than this, if there was anything to add or specify, I would argue that it would have to do with the motive of such endeavor, which is already implied by the word “product.” This aspect becomes clearer in the definition of the Localization Industry Standards Association (LISA), which defines

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localization as “the process of modifying products or services to account for differences in distinct markets” (Fry, 2003: 13).

There are at least two emphases to be noted in these definitions. The first underlines the interplay of language and technology, and the second places the focus on business motives and a product to be sold. These could be called the two basic denominators that determine whether the overall process is referred to as localization rather than translation: (1) the object of localization is a product that combines technology with language, and (2) the purpose of localization is to increase sales by modifying the product for a specific target locale.

If this definition is applied to video games, it can be observed that all games are based on software technology and the linguistic content is integrated into the program code.

Furthermore, video games are typically commercial¹ products that are developed in large teams with sizable budgets. The act of rendering a game understandable and usable beyond its country of origin is a business process aimed at reaching wider international markets and therefore ultimately yielding larger profits. It seems clear, then, that similarly to any software, video games meet both conditions of combining technology with language (object) and being commercial products (purpose), which is why it is entirely justified and correct to speak of “video game localization” in the industry context.

However, while this definition alone might suffice in the industry context, it becomes problematic when brought to the sphere of Translation Studies. Problems arise particularly in determining what exactly is meant by “modifying products or services to account for differences in distinct markets” in LISA’s definition. To add to the confusion, “localization”

has been previously used in Translation Studies with a meaning that differs from the modern definition.

The next section explains more specifically how the industry term has been used in the context of Translation Studies in previous research and illustrates the difficulties faced in telling translation apart from localization.

1 Of course, there are also non-commercial games created by individuals and small teams. These are consciously left out in this context for the simple reason that video games could not have developed into their present form without the funding of the commercial video game industry.

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3.2 Localization = Domestication?

Before taking on new connotations in the digital age, “localization” in Translation Studies referred to a heavily domesticating translation strategy in children’s literature and songs (Klingberg, 1986: 15; Parrish, 2003: 3). Domestication or cultural adaptation in its most radical form might mean replacing foreign proper names with local ones and even transferring the entire setting of a story to a local environment that is more familiar to the target reader or receiver (Klingberg, 1986: 14–15). This is a translation strategy that places the emphasis on target text readers in order to ensure that the translation is as understandable and enjoyable as possible. In so doing, however, it may even completely erase the original cultural markers of the source text and therefore involve significant rewriting. This may be very difficult to carry out consistently, and the end result can even be viewed as a different work. Therefore, the degree and amount of domestication usually depends largely on the intended purpose and target audience of the translation and is determined on a case-by-case basis.

In certain types of products, a kind of complete “rewriting” is precisely what localization refers to even today. The only thing that matters is the core product or basic concept; a bare structure which can be stripped of original content and fleshed out again in a different locale.

The product still remains fundamentally the same, because its raison d’être lies in its function, not in the original content as with most literary and artistic works. This is known as “concept trade,” good examples of which would be TV shows such as the Idol series and Who Wants to Be a Millionaire? (Iwabuchi, 2002: 96–97).

Although some comparisons might be drawn, software localization is essentially different from what “localization” used to mean in the context of Translation Studies. The industry term has first and foremost come to refer to modifying technical and product aspects to render them usable and understandable in foreign locales. In games, this can mean converting the video display format from NTSC to PAL when localizing an originally American game into Europe, or making adjustments to the interface to accommodate a translation that takes more space than the original text. In linguistic and cultural content, localization can mean, for example, taking differing country standards into consideration in instructions and replacing symbols that are meaningless in the target culture. These types of

“domesticating” changes are often not only meant to offer a more pleasant user experience;

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they are mandatory in order to ensure proper and safe functionality and use of the localized product.

Other types of changes may be made in order to conform to local laws or other guidelines.

Germany, for example, has strict laws concerning depiction of blood and Nazi symbolism in video games (Chandler, 2005: 33). Somewhat similarly, excessive use of Christian symbolism in Japanese games, which might be considered blasphemous outside Japan, is often censored from U.S. versions (Kohler 2005: 206–207). Furthermore, the content of certain types of games may be altered to match local conditions or expectations with the aim of attracting new users to the localized version. For example, a driving game may have its soundtrack changed.

Localization, as it is defined in this chapter so far, is above all a technical and business process that can entail changes on many levels. But how, then, does this relate or apply to the overall aesthetic, cultural content of games? If a game has a distinct cultural setting and theme, does localization by default extend to these as well in the form of cultural adaptation?

In previous academic research on game localization, the answer would seem to be “yes.”

This has been justified by viewing games primarily as functional products whose main purpose is to entertain (e.g., Bernal Merino, 2006; Mangiron and O’Hagan, 2006; O’Hagan, 2007; O’Hagan, 2009). Although Bernal Merino suggests and considers the artifact nature of games, he nevertheless sees the product nature as taking precedence when it comes to the question of cultural translation/localization:

[W]e are talking about a product (not an artefact), and we are not obliged to maintain the source culture identity. On the contrary, we must favour the target culture. The acceptance of the product by the receiving culture is more important than its nationality. (Bernal Merino, 2006: 31).

O’Hagan is slightly more specific in expressing the perceived reasons for why the target culture should be favored:

[T]he ultimate purpose of video games as a pleasure-giving medium (…) constitutes skopos in the context of translation and is something that the games localiser needs to bear in mind, as the raison d’être of the end product. With games localisation, the translator is expected to convey a game play experience that is as close as possible to the equivalent of the original. (O’Hagan, 2007: 4).

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Furthermore, Mangiron and O’Hagan justify the need for the word “transcreation” in the following words:

[T]he traditional concept of fidelity to the original is discarded. In game localisation, transcreation, rather than just translation, takes place. (Mangiron and O’Hagan, 2006).

For the reasons stated in the citations, the general assumption appears to be that the cultural game content by definition calls for cultural adaptation—“localization” in the original sense of the word, as it were. Not only domesticating translation, but something that exceeds the limits of translation and relates specifically to video game localization, as Mangiron and O’Hagan’s comment seems to suggest.

One thing is immediately clear: it is by no means mistaken as such to advocate domesticating translation strategy in video game localization. This strategy can work very well particularly if a game is not tied to any realistic cultural setting, as they traditionally have not been.

Mangiron and O’Hagan (2006) offer good examples of this from the Japanese role-playing games Final Fantasy X and X-2, set in a fantasy world. Their case study revealed, for example, that the American translator had added an allusion to the American Lollapalooza rock festival by translating the original Japanese word raibu, meaning “live concert,” into

“Yunapalooza,” derived from the main character Yuna’s name (Mangiron and O’Hagan, 2006: 19). In these particular cases, Bernal Merino (2007: 1) is largely correct in stating that

“the place of origin or the language of development of the game is not relevant to the game experience itself.”

However, it is one thing to advocate domestication and quite another to assume that cultural adaptation is required by default in video game localization, beyond translation. Even in a purely translational sense, it seems questionable to claim that all or even most games have the same function and therefore their translations have the same skopos, which can be defined as the intended purpose of a translation that is used to determine the best translation strategy. This would pertain to all games and game genres. If, on the other hand, the functional product nature of a game is taken to be the only determining factor in the overall process of game localization, what it seems to imply is that the original game content is almost entirely interchangeable, which is in conflict with what was argued in Chapter 2.

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It is actually possible to take a look at what happens if the entire game content is substituted, as such drastic measures are actually not completely unheard of. O’Hagan (2007: 4) cites an example of a deeply culture-bound Japanese dating game, Tokimeki Memorial, whose U.S.

version, Brooktown High: Senior Year Hands-on, “retained only the theme of dating simulation from the original,” while everything else was redesigned and geared toward American audiences following market research that was conducted in the U.S. This can be done if a game as a whole is viewed as a product concept or format, such as the previously mentioned television program Idol.

The crucial question in this context, which O’Hagan (ibid.) also mentions is open for debate, is whether Brooktown High can still be considered or perhaps even recognized as the localized version of Tokimeki Memorial. In essence, the original aesthetic identity and cultural origin have been almost completely replaced. If representation is radically changed, gameplay will have to be redesigned as well. The result is, for all intents and purposes, a different game.

The paradox is ultimately the same as when a children’s book is radically domesticated: is it the same work? This type of cultural adaptation, even when brought to the game context and linked to commercial considerations, still seems to deal with questions and problems relating to translation rather than anything external.

It seems internally contradictory to claim that video game localization inherently strives for cultural adaptation if the outcome can actually cease to be a localized version when the task is successfully completed. Clearly, some type of confusion must be at work, most likely deriving from industry definitions. One possible source for confusion is a rule of thumb in the localization industry to localize a product in such a way that it has the “look and feel” of a domestic product (Fry, 2003: 3; Chandler, 2005: 5). What needs to be noted is that these rules are formulated by localization industry professionals, not by translation scholars or even by translation professionals. From an industry perspective, “the look and feel of a domestic product” may not equal cultural adaptation as it is defined in the context of Translation Studies, but simply that the product is skillfully translated and that any technical, cultural or linguistic elements do not prevent the user from enjoying it.

Chandler (2005), writing from the industry perspective on the practical game localization process, actually also speaks of the “flavor” of the game that needs to be maintained. She gives the example of True Crime: Streets of L.A., a game set in the city of Los Angeles, in

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which “the cultural specificity is necessary to the overall look and feel of the game” and therefore should not be erased in the localization process (ibid.: 26). Although Chandler sees these cases as localization challenges when discussing the desirability of cross-cultural game design, to any professional translator this kind of cultural specificity would rather present only routine translation challenges.

The fact remains, however, that various substitutions and changes can be and are made during the commercial localization process, some of which reach into the cultural content as well. How do these fit in? How are they beyond translation? According to a common industry definition, translation differs from localization in that it is one of the many subsets of localization, dealing with the linguistic content (Esselink, 2000: 4; Fry, 2003). This is not, however, a satisfactory distinction. While it is true that the entire process can be referred to as “localization,” the issue is more complex when it comes to separating translation from localization on the level of content and actual decision-making. As I will point out in the next section, certain individual linguistic changes can actually be seen as localization rather than translation decisions, and some cultural modifications beyond language are best described as translation. It is therefore necessary to try to differentiate localization more clearly from translation on the level of content changes.

3.3 Differentiating between Localization and Translation

The separation between localization and translation may be clear in the case of technical modifications, which are exclusively localization, but the line becomes increasingly blurred when it comes to cultural and linguistic game content. Di Marco (2007: 2) calls the transfer of the entire cultural and linguistic game content simply as “cultural localization.” The purpose of this thesis is to further explore whether translation as such can be pulled out of the somewhat obscure notion of “cultural localization” in order to see what remains.

On a general level, it could be said that the main task of translation is to convey the source content in an understandable and appropriate manner to the target culture, and a wide variety of strategies can be employed to this end. Individual translation solutions may include additions, omissions, modifications and substitutions similarly to localization. When it comes to cultural and linguistic elements, the difference between localization and translation seems to lie not so much in the types of changes that are made, but rather in the

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motivation of making them and the resulting effect. As has been established, localization is a technical and business process mainly concerned with sales, acceptability, usability, legality and ensuring customer satisfaction, while translation aims primarily at successful intercultural communication and creative delivery of meaning in their own right, which may also entail changes of an ideological nature.

The following example represents a localization change on the level of language: a Russian character originally named “Vodka Drunkenski” was changed into “Soda Popinski” in the NES (Nintendo Entertainment System) version of Punch-Out!!, a game originally developed for the arcades in Japan. This name change was most likely motivated by Nintendo of America’s policy of removing all alcoholic references and avoiding ethnic stereotypes, while Nintendo of Japan did not have similar guidelines (McCullough). Although the change is a rather creative textual shift and could perhaps seem like an ideological statement from the translator, in this context it is clearly a localization decision with the purpose of making the product more acceptable and neutral. These types of localization decisions are usually concerned with details rather than the work as a whole, which is why the result may not always agree perfectly with the overall context and intention. In this case, characterizing the muscular and rather intimidating character as an ardent lover of “soda pop” gives an entirely different impression of him than the original.

On the other hand, there are times when even graphical changes can be seen through the lens of translational motives, as in the following case:

I remember one project I worked on had a light bulb that signified an idea in the pop- up help text. However, in the target language a light bulb signified nothing more than a light bulb. If this light bulb symbol had been used, it would have confused the users of the target language. Instead, the graphics were replaced with the translation for the word “idea.” (Louden in Chandler, 2005: 86).

In this example, translation and localization can be seen to overlap in a certain sense.

Replacing an image should by definition be a localization change, as it deals with usability and graphical elements, but in this particular case it is also essentially the kind of change that a translator would do for the sake of successful inter-cultural communication.

Extra-linguistic game elements can therefore clearly be viewed through the lens of translation and some linguistic elements through the lens of localization, illustrating the

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complex relationship between the two. It is helpful to understand the motivations of localization, but the concept still remains elusive in terms of how it relates to the cultural transfer of a game on the content level. Clearly there exists “localization” separately from translation, but what exactly is “cultural localization”? Is it an inherent part of the entire localization process, and, if so, how does it relate to actual cultural translation? Does the functional or product nature of games make their cultural transfer a unique process after all?

It would seem that the research question cannot be conclusively answered through individual examples taken from different games. Considering the nature of games laid out in Chapter 2 and the importance of understanding the entire game context, it is necessary to carry out an in-depth analysis on a full game, taking into consideration the whole context and how changes affect it.

The following section suggests foreignization as a way to roughly identify what might be called “cultural localization” beyond translation, serving as the basis for choosing the research material and designing the empirical study.

3.4 Enter Foreignization

As mentioned in section 3.2, the stated industry goal of the localization process is that the end result “has the look and feel of a nationally-manufactured piece of goods” (Fry, 2003: 3).

In product-centered localization the strategy is therefore by default geared toward the target locale. This corresponds confusingly closely with what might be called domestication from a translational point of view. Translation decisions might be easier to tell apart from localization decisions if reflected through the mirror of foreignization, a translation strategy that would seem to go completely against the purpose of localization as seen from a product perspective. Before this can be elaborated upon, a working definition of foreignization is in order.

Although the term “foreignization” itself, along with “domestication,” has become well- known within Translation Studies mainly through the work of Lawrence Venuti (1995), the fundamental principle it refers to was known much earlier. Previously referred to as

“alienation,” foreignization was advocated particularly by Friedrich Schleiermacher in the early 19^th century and by Antoine Berman in the 1980s (Munday, 2001).

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According to Berman, “[t]he properly ethical aim of the translating act is receiving the foreign as foreign” (quoted in Munday, 2001: 149). This seems to summarize the basic sentiment of all three scholars, but the most apt definition in this particular context is that formulated by Schleiermacher. In his view, foreignization differs from domestication in that it is not about trying to simulate the effect that the source text had on source culture receivers, but rather conveying the effect that the source text would have on the members of the target culture if they could understand the language of the original work (Schleiermacher, 1813/1992). This would appear to directly oppose the general localization principle adopted in earlier research that players should be able to experience the localized version “as if it were originally developed in their own language” (Mangiron and O’Hagan, 2006: 14–15). When it comes to functionality, this is certainly true, but not necessarily from a translational point of view.

Foreignization as it is defined by Schleiermacher would therefore seem to serve only the goals of translation, as such a strategy might not make much sense from the business and marketing perspectives that drive localization decisions. As Sprung (2000: xiv) also notes,

“the most effective way to make a product truly international is to make it look and feel like a native product.” There is, however, at least one way in which foreignization could be seen to work as a localization strategy as well. Namely, the foreign can be employed to make the product seem more attractive by using mental images of the source culture that already exist in the target culture and are found exotic.

This kind of “foreignizing localization” might prove challenging to tell apart from foreignizing translation, but presumably not nearly as difficult as the two types of

“domestication.” As a basic principle, if the foreign has somehow been retained in the target content, it must be possible to see it as serving the overall context of the game in order to qualify as translation rather than localization.

This is the foundation on which the empirical research of this thesis is based. If culturally foreignizing changes can clearly be identified as translation rather than localization, and the overall translation strategy is usually consistent as it deals with the work as a whole, then cultural localization changes should stand out as individual “domesticating” decisions. The next chapter expands upon the grounds for choosing the research material and defines the method.

Bringing the Foreign into Play - Cultural Transfer in Video Game Localization