Start Press: How To Make A Killing

A couple of years ago, in the run-up to Christmas, I was interviewed by a major cable news network. They wanted to chat about the usual topic—violent videogames, specifically how parents could make informed decisions when holiday shopping for their kids. The five-minute segment positively reeked of the derogatory slant gamers have come to know and loathe. The intrepid reporter visits GameStop and finds a young boy—he doesn’t look a day over seven years old—at one of the PS3 demo units. When she asks him what he likes about videogames, without missing a beat, the pudgy kid says with a totally straight face, “you get to kill people.” No need for the reporter to touch on the nature of how make-believe violence—be it a violent videogame, a toy laser gun or a plastic Star Wars light saber—offers young children a much-needed fantasy context in which to exert “control” over their world. She had her juicy soundbyte and moved right along.

During our interview in the Paste office, I explained to the reporter that Assassin’s Creed—one of the major holiday releases that year—contains a menu option that lets you turn off the blood if you find it upsetting for any reason. She wrinkled her brow and countered, “But parents wouldn’t realize that just by looking at the box.” I acknowledged that was true. Looking back, what I should’ve said was, “You’re right, they wouldn’t. But any parent with a basic command of the English language should be expected to know that an assassin’s job doesn’t exactly involve putting rainbow sprinkles on cupcakes. If parents don’t want little Timmy Jr. to play violent games, they should probably avoid games whose titles contain any of the following words or phrases: ‘butcher,’ ‘killer,’ ‘assassin,’ ‘murder fun time,’ ‘Columbian necktie.’”

I’ve just started playing Assassin’s Creed II, set in 15th-century Italy, and I can tell you that—despite the eternally pudgy-faced seven year old in me—getting to kill people barely cracks my list of top 10 favorite things about the game. What I found infinitely more enjoyable was the process of renovating my family’s dilapidated villa in Monteriggioni, as well as reestablishing the surrounding village. When you first arrive in the city with your uncle, sister and mother, the villa’s exterior is in dismal shape—boarded-up windows, overgrown plants, etc. The city is full of derelict buildings and there’s almost nobody wandering the streets. As you amass your fortune in the game through completing missions, looting treasure chests and picking pockets, you can pass along chunks of that money to an architect who’s offered to remodel the village’s shops, bank, church, well, mines, etc.

As I gradually restored Monteriggioni to its former glory, I found immense satisfaction in watching the streets fill up with travelers and tenants and shoppers. But the streets weren’t the only thing that filled up as a result of my urban renewal project. As any financial advisor will tell you, smart financial investments pay dividends, and my money chest in the family villa began receiving automatic deposits every 20 minutes, as long as my game was turned on. A pleasant coin-clinking sound effect marked each new cash infusion. Even when I’d take a break from Assassin’s Creed II to wash the dishes or read a book, I’d leave my game console purring so that my chest could fill up that much more. Every time my account reached a sufficiently tidy sum, I had to decide how much of the coin I’d allow myself to splash around buying cool new weapons and armor, and how much to funnel toward my investment accounts. After all, the more I invested in capital projects, the heftier my dividends grew.

I’m sure this talk of investments, dividends and cashflow must sound positively boring to you—a bit too much like the responsibilities and concerns of real life. You’d rather hear about hidden wrist blades that my character Ezio Auditore de Firenze uses to slash the throats of attacking guards. You’d rather hear about the many exotic stealth kills Ezio can perform while hanging from ledges hundreds of feet above the bustling streets of Venice. You’d rather hear about the way he can deftly sidestep an enemy’s strike and run his sword through the poor lug’s back. Videogame violence is flashy and sexy and controversial, causing a chain of rubbernecking parents and congressional representatives and cable news reporters. But at this point in my life, the concepts of disposable income, an honest-to-god investment portfolio and riches beyond imagining are just as steeped in fantasy as the murderous exploits of a 15th-century Italian assassin. And, say what you will, amassing dizzying levels of make-believe wealth feels all kinds of real-world awesome.

Jason Killingsworth is Paste’s games editor. He is based in Dublin, Ireland, and writes about music, film, tech and games for a variety of outlets. You can reach him online at jason [at] pastemagazine.com.