Gabe Roethle and Jessie Downey

Introduction 

Video games have a long history of Indigenous representation. The conquest of Indigenous land by the U.S. is a familiar topic in games that center the “wild west” and exploration of the frontier. Indigenous people as shown in video games so often represent what lies on or beyond the frontier, the conquered or not-yet-conquered, because of the video game industry’s cultural investment in replaying of colonialism. Portrayals of Indigenous people in media are lacking overall because market forces uphold a vague Indigenous aesthetic as something that can make money, but they do not similarly uphold informed research and Indigenous voices as important components in this type of representation.  

For the many Indigenous people playing games, especially Indigenous youth, this general lack of informed representation in video games is one of many factors that alienates them from Indigenous cultural modes. This is not to say that Indigenous voices are silent in the video games industry. Indigenous video game creators such as Upper One Games, the Skins project, and Skawennati are currently working toward recreating a video gaming industry that not only includes Indigenous input but where Indigenous voices are foundational. These individuals and organizations usually emphasize the importance of youth in participating in Indigeneity through these video games. In some projects, such as Skins, Indigenous youth are even encouraged and taught to develop their own games in a collaborative setting. As Indigenous people continue to reclaim their representations in media such as video games, they actively participate in the nurturing of Indigenous identities. 

Skawennati and TimeTraveller™ 

Mohawk artist Skawennati is one of the creators of TimeTraveller™, a machinima and ARG set in the game Second Life (LaPensée, 105). The TimeTraveller™ story bridges Indigenous past with present and future, as Indigenous technology bends joins Indigenous people and communities from different time periods, with the players having the chance to learn and reflect on Indigenous history both past and to come. Second Life was chosen as the platform for the series because it provides players with a wide set of tools for creating characters and worlds (LaPensée, 109). Second Life is not considered an “indigenous game,” but its potential for player-centered meaning-making allows Indigenous voices to speak through the game. Skawennati’s use of the online multiplayer game for machinima is indicative of Indigenous reappropriation, using tools sustained by settler colonialism to work against colonialist hegemony.  

While Second Life’s freedom does allow for Indigenous player agency, the game by and large still wears the markers of settler colonialism. Skawennati recounts that her first encounter with Indigenous assets in the game, which were rare to begin with, were sexualized clothing items (LaPensée, 114). At the time of Skawennati’s first playing of the game, the market of player-created assets had not been conducive to authentic Indigenous expressions, but rather led to fetishized representations. Skawennati and other creators on the project created assets that demonstrate traditional Indigenous items, such as clothing, as well as those that demonstrate Indigenous futurity, such as a pair of TimeTraveller™ glasses (LaPensée, 115). Because of work by Skawennati and other Indigenous creators, Indigenous representation in player-created assets in Second Life has since improved because of the intentional fostering of in-game environments that promote Indigenous self-advocacy and community. 

Indigenous Gaming as Political Activism 

The recent uptick in games and game analysis content made by and for Indigenous communities has facilitated discussions about what progress has been made and what still needs to be done in terms of Indigenous representation. The Indigitalgames.com blog project, for example, examined Indigenous representations in several video games in order to “show the complexities and other factors that contribute to descriptions [of Indigenous people] seen in video games throughout the decades” (Lagace 12). Highlighting these representations was then meant to “provide opportunities for Indigenous people to examine and counteract tropes that otherwise will continue to define Indigenous cultures, nations, and traditions in digital spaces” (Lagace 88). Understanding how certain representations are authentic or harmful is a key step towards creating better representations and thus creating better, more accurate conceptions of these communities in the public’s mind.  

Game workshops have been incredibly beneficial at facilitating these types of discussions (especially for Indigenously-made games being discussed by Indigenous community members). As Lagace explains, “Game workshops allow all generations of Indigenous community members to participate in transitioning their traditional knowledge into digital projects and platforms so as to incorporate as much authenticity into the game as possible” (87). With games being an emerging form of carrying on the storytelling tradition, it’s vital to include as many generational perspectives on them as possible. By introducing older generations to this new format of storytelling and younger generations to the stories themselves, these workshops offer a novel form of community bonding.  

Conclusion 

The lack of positive, authentic representations of Indigenous identities/communities in video games has harmful repercussions on the outside world’s conception of them as well as their conceptions of themselves. Many games that include Indigenous characters use overtly racist and offensive stereotypes of these peoples and their culture, while others have had neutral to positive representations while still using colonial/problematic game mechanics, such as Second Life. The answer to this dilemma is simply to have more games be created by and for Indigenous people. When representing a real-life identity or culture, it’s imperative to have members of said identity/culture be involved in the creative process, lest the representation be ignorant or offensive. This is especially true for video games in which players are made to assume the role of or ‘directly’ engage with a real-life identity. Games such as Never Alone (that were created by and for Iñupiaq people) have done this expertly. By integrating Indigenous traditions, beliefs, and histories through game narratives and mechanics, they allowed for these communities to bond through working and learning together on these projects.  

By Jessie and Gabe

The 2014 critically acclaimed game, Never Alone, integrates vital aspects of Iñupiaq culture in its narrative design, game mechanics, and “Cultural Insights”. Each of these aspects work to stress this culture’s importance of upholding community. Working as a community in tandem with the natural world is vital to those of Iñupiaq culture, and so these concepts are reflected throughout the game.

Narrative Design

The narrative of Never Alone is that of a well-known Iñupiaq legend (“Kunuuksaayuka”), with several cutscenes of both 3-D and 2-D animation and a voiceover done in the Iñupiaq language. The legend describes a young Iñupiaq child (a boy in the original, a girl, Nuna, in Never Alone) who gets separated from her village during a blizzard, befriends a fox, and eventually returns to find that a “terrible man” had destroyed her village and sent her people fleeing. The man then chases after Nuna and Fox, leading them to a great journey where they eventually defeat the terrible man, but not before he kills Fox. Amazingly, this doesn’t end Fox’s gameplay! Instead, Fox turns into the human version of his spirit, floating through the air and still able to interact with the platform spirits. The pair continue on their journey until they find the source of the blizzard, an ice giant hacking away at an iceberg with a pickaxe. They manage to steal the giant’s axe and destroy it, finally putting an end to the blizzard. After ending the blizzard, Nuna and Fox return to Nuna’s village. 

The integration of aspects of Iñupiaq culture (such as the Little People and Lost Children Spirits as well as the Cultural Insights) make this narrative feel grounded in a really special way. As Peter Keough Williams describes in his thesis on the game’s ethnographic significance, “It is not just representing their cultural ways of life, but their political status as an Indigenous people, […] ensuring the player takes away not only one of their folktales, but other aspects of their material and social culture as well. In short, representing their culture as they would have it represented demonstrates Iñupiaq sovereignty” (Williams 28). By demonstrating this sovereignty, Never Alone is able to share and engage players with Iñupiaq culture in a novel way (which is especially significant considering how the history of these cultures have historically been told by their oppressors).

Game mechanics

The game has two playable characters, Nuna (the young Iñupiaq girl) and Fox (the friendly fox). Even in single-person mode, the player must switch between the two–you cannot play the game as only one character. Each character has their respective skill sets and weaknesses. For example, Nuna can throw bolos to defend herself, but can’t climb up walls of ice in the way that Fox can. Their strengths overlap each other’s weaknesses so that together they can face any challenge that the game puts before them. This mechanic enforces community, discouraging competition by having neither player be able to succeed without the help of the other. As Williams describes, “Teaching cooperation by requiring the player to learn this approach in order to progress in a sense is an extreme expression of Iñupiaq sovereignty. They create a scenario where the only means to succeed is to accept their method of problem solving as the most effective” (Williams 43). The Iñupiaq method of problem solving almost always appears to require communal effort. Never Alone then utilizes this methodology, having players adopt it in their gameplay.

The game also uses various nature spirits as tangible platforms that the characters must utilize in order to pass each area. By having these spirits (or at least parts of them) be solid, corporeal platforms, they’re proved to be real (at least in the sense that White Western Culture generally considers things that physically exist to be more real than that which exists in other ways). These spirits also function to make the player have a deeper respect for forces of nature, and even perhaps to consider (as the Iñupiaq do) that everything within the natural world has a soul.

Cultural Insights

Throughout gameplay, Never Alone has 24 unlockable videos entitled “Cultural Insights”. These videos include documentary-style interviews with several Iñupiaq individuals where they explain some aspect of their culture or personal experiences that relate to gameplay. The player(s) unlock these Cultural Insights as they progress through game levels (generally popping up along with the natural progress of the game, but it is possible to miss them–we missed four in our first runthrough). These Insights are a “shared resource, rather than one players have to fight for”, further encouraging cooperation and a desire to learn more about Iñupiaq culture (Williams 43). Once again, by implementing these educational videos, Never Alone allows for these historically voiceless people to share their history in an authentic and engaging way.

Game Development

The development of Never Alone involves indigenous Inupiaq individuals and communities at many levels of development. The story of Never Alone is based on Robert Nasruk Ceveland’s telling of the story “Kunuuksaayuka” with permission from his daughter (Brown, 27). The creators did change certain details from Cleveland’s version, most notably changing the boy protagonist to a girl, Nuna. The creators were inspired to make this change to address the intersectional underrepresentation of Indigenous women (Wlliams, 18). Nuna’s active role in helping her community is reflective of the importance of youth action and activism in Indigenous communities. The development of Never Alone occurred under the company Upper One Games, subsidiary of Cook Inlet Tribal Council Enterprises, a for-profit branch of the Cook Inlet Tribal Council (Williams, 16). Never Alone is Upper One Games’s first project with E-line Media, and was designed to make money in a competitive gaming market. The for-profit model is  framed as an investment in indigenous youth and futures, putting flow of both money and culture through activities that Indigenous youth will already be engaged in (Brown, 29). Financial independence within a competitive market also demonstrates indigenous financial sovereignty, which need not be inherently individualistic, instead relying on a comprehensive network of collaborations from within the Inupiaq communities as well as with outside individuals and organizations such as E-line Media (Williams, 24). The “Cultural Insights” segments feature members of Inupiaq communities credited as “Cultural Ambassadors,” the title of “ambassador” suggesting a political sovereignty exercised through the collaboration of Inupiaq individuals (Williams, 24).

Other Indigenous Developers: Elizabeth LaPensée

While Upper One Games is the first commercial fully indigenous-run game company in the U.S. there are several other indigenous voices in video games, especially in non-commercial and independent contexts. One other example of an indigenous game developer is Elizabeth LaPensée, an independent developer who creates games that enact activism and education around indigenous cultures (Clapper, 449). LaPensée confronts the alienating tendencies of the digital world that obscure indigenous cultures’ connections to the land. Members of indigenous communities, especially younger members, are at risk of social alienation from culture, which is why LaPensée targets indigenous people as the target consumers of her games (Clapper, 451). Knowing that she can’t speak for every indigenous culture, LaPensée emphasizes the importance of indigenous people claiming culture-specific meanings from her works, such as her digital game Survivance whose gameplay consists of pondering a series of prompts outside the confines of a computer screen (Clapper, 447). By extending gameplay into the outside world, LaPensée claims an indigenous mode of gameplay that is rooted in culture and land, reclaiming the alienating forces of the computer screen.

Conclusion

Games like Never Alone and Survivance exercise indigenous sovereignty within a digital landscape that profits from ignoring it. The concept of “survivance” in indigenous studies, as coined by Gerald Vizenor, eschews the tragic tropes of extinction, instead emphasizing how indigenous cultures and people have persisted and flourished amidst hardship (Brown, 28). This notion stresses continuity with the traditional past, creating and renewing tradition through action and activism such as gaming and game development. Never Alone renews tradition through storytelling, art, and community involvement, exploring a comparatively new medium of the video game as a vehicle for the survivance of Inupiaq culture’s past, present, and future.

References

Williams, Peter Keough. “An Analysis of the Ethnographic Significance of the Iñupiaq Video Game Never Alone (Kisima Ingitchuna).” Florida State University. 2018. https://diginole.lib.fsu.edu/islandora/object/fsu:653531/datastream/PDF/view 

Brown, Michelle Lee. “Never Alone:(Re)Coding the Comic Holotrope of Survivance.” Transmotion, Vol. 3 No. 1 (2017). https://journals.kent.ac.uk/index.php/transmotion/article/download/257/1031/  

Clapper, J. (2021). The Ancestors in the Machine: Indigenous Futurity and Indigenizing Games. In D. Kim & A. Koh (Eds.), Alternative Historiographies of the Digital Humanities (pp. 427–472). Punctum Books. http://www.jstor.org/stable/j.ctv1r7878x.16 

 (all images used are screenshots from our own gameplay)