jmechner

About a year and a half ago, I mentioned Jordan Mechner's seminal 1984 game Karateka in a post about Sifu, a newly-released beat ‘em up with a similar martial arts theme and tough-as-nails difficulty level. Sifu's a good game that garnered a certain amount of scrutiny from people who pointed out that it was an interactive experience steeped in Chinese culture but developed by a predominantly white team. This is not inherently a bad thing (Sifu’s devs did a respectful job), but considering Western media’s track record of misrepresenting Asia as an exotic place full of Fu Manchu-mustachioed bad guys and subservient women, it’s always worthwhile to be cautious. At any rate, Sifu reminded me a lot of Karateka, another game by a non-Asian creator that owed its lifeblood to Asian culture...and even featured the main protagonist and his love interest as white on the box art, despite the fact that the game clearly takes place in medieval Japan.

The Making of Karateka, a just-released interactive documentary by Digital Eclipse, explains the logic behind this decision via extensive notes that detail every step of the game's creation. From what I can discern, the box art design doesn’t appear to have been Jordan Mechner’s call. (Though the playable Karateka beta included in this package reveals that Mechner had some wacky non-Japanese names in mind for the game’s villain and damsel in distress... Akuma and Mariko were once dubbed “Kratang” and “Tiger Lily.” Yikes!) Rather, publisher Brøderbund’s marketing team seems to have been the division that assigned artist Thomas Blackshear II to paint the cover, instructing him that the titular Karateka was supposed to look like "a young Chuck Norris" or "Luke Skywalker" while Mariko should resemble an "American blonde." Meanwhile, only Akuma was specified as "Japanese."

Brøderbund’s promotional strategy followed the typical American metality of the era: it's okay to portray a bad guy as a foreign race, but leading men and ladies should be white and ideally blonde. It didn't have to be this way, since Bruce Lee had dominated cinemas with Enter the Dragon only a decade earlier and proved that audiences could accept an Asian hero. But Brøderbund decided to go the safe route, despite the fact that Thomas Blackshear is a person of color renowned for his Black and American Indian paintings. (He also portrayed a decidently unblonde and possibly Asian main character in his early cover sketches.)

My intention here is not to hate on Karateka or any of the individuals involved. The original Karateka game for the Apple II did, after all, feature white hair for its leading man's sprite that could easily be interpreted as blonde (though that was likely due to hardware color limitations more than anything else), and Brøderbund justified their decision by claiming they were inspired by the multicolored hair of Japanese manga characters. (Eh, sure.) Also, if we're being honest about it, Blackshear's final art is a beautiful composition even with the questionable racial depictions.

Rather, I'm fascinated with Karateka's box as an example of mildly problematic '80s promotion, and I love how we gain insight into its development thanks to Digital Eclipse' painstaking efforts with what they call the first in their "Gold Master Series" of playable documentaries. Aside from these marketing details, The Making of Karateka delves into Jordan Mechner's early life in precise timeline fashion, letting us explore planning documents, early rotoscoping footage and prototypes of not only Karateka, but the games that preceded it, including Mechner's take on Asteroids and a shooter he was trying to develop called Deathbounce. There's even glimpses at the bones of a platforming puzzle game that started out as Karateka II and would later evolve into Prince of Persia.

Just about every review of The Making of Karateka stresses how this package sets a new standard for preservation in the video game industry, a business that is terrible at chronicling its own past. I won't repeat these arguments too much other than to say that I fullheartedly agree. Behind the scenes featurettes used to be a thing when it came to games — as a kid, I remember being utterly absorbed with the "Making of King's Quest VI" footage that came included on the CD-ROM — but these days you're unlikely to see too many of them, especially for titles that were released decades ago. In a world where Nintendo has yet to localize Mother 3 and customers need to rely on emulation and all types of hacks to revisit old games, Digital Eclipse's commitment to curating digital museums dedicated to works like Karateka is an incredible worthy goal — possibly one of the most important goals that a video game company has ever embarked upon. I can't wait to see more volumes in the Gold Master Series, and can think of many potential entries off the top of my head. Pitfall! Ultima! Doom! Maybe even one day...Sifu? (Likely a stretch, but stranger things have happened.)

But going back to the discusson of art for a moment, one of the most monumental things that The Making of Karateka does is offer a "remastered" version of its title game, complete with impressive graphical flairs, a more managable difficulty level, and even...revised box art. While Thomas Blackshear's original Karateka painting is still displayed prominently throughout the package, when you go to select Karateka Remastered under the list of playable games, you'll see a gorgeous mockup box illustrated by Digital Eclipse in-house artist Mae Livingston. No longer is Akuma a dehumanized Japanese baddie, no longer is Mariko an all-American girl, no longer is the titular Karateka Luke Skywalker. All three characters are Asian...and get this, the central Karateka is not only Asian, but blonde too.

In one swift stroke, The Making of Karateka not only captures history and chronicles its mistakes, but also revises them for a bright future. Take that, 1984 marketing.