Pixels&Pages

My name is Jacky, and I am a literary studies master with a focus on videogame studies.

On this page, I share my work dealing with a variety of topics that strike my fancy: Literature, video games, or even lyrics. You will also find some personal or creative texts.

The texts provided here are mine, and they often stem from extensive research and probably lots of cursing. Some of them are academic in nature and have been executed without AI. Spreading my words or even declaring them as your own is forbidden and unauthorized usage, or even stealing shall be followed with juridical consequences.

I am always happy about comments, constructive criticism, or thought-provoking discussions.

“Provider is now the bar at which my lover will be judged” – Reddit Comment

Music is an instrument in itself – It can be used to entertain, ask burning questions, or play with conventions. Sleep Token is a band that manages to tick all those boxes. Despite the band’s slow initial start due to COVID, it managed to rise to fame and fill arenas in less than a decade, all while remaining anonymous (1).

As a beloved listener myself, the latest album, Even in Arcadia, struck some thoughts regarding the band’s involvement in ideas of queerness and gender, and I want to explore these ideas by using some of the album’s tracks, namely Dangerous and Provider.

Before I do that, I want to clarify that this is my interpretation of the band’s public portrayal and their songs. During my analysis, I will consider some aspects of the band’s lore but try to keep a more general perspective on how the songs resonate with me – and probably other listeners. 

How the Band Plays with Notions of Gender and Masculinity

Vessel, the band’s lead singer, presents himself on stage completely painted black, with a mask that conceals most of his face, and (until now) a black cloak. His black trousers are oversized and flow with each movement (of which there are many). Many rings adorn his fingers, and dangling from his neck are a variety of necklaces. 

The singer exposes his black painted neck, chest, and stomach, as well as his lower arms and hands. From this stance alone, he can be read as a male: He is tall, his abs are toned, and his chest is (appropriately) flat (for a male). His voice, sometimes deep, sometimes high, also allows for assigning a male identity to this figure. 

This alone grants a very stereotypical reading of gender in terms of men: His tall frame, the muscles protruding from under his skin, and the almost arrogant display of his physique. He is obviously a man who takes up space and proudly so. Additionally, the lights during live performances highlight his presence, and despite his greatest efforts to hop his way out of the spotlight – it follows him. 

But there is also something that does not fit the stereotypical idea of masculinity: vulnerability. Vessel does so not only by exposing his front torso, but also through his music. He screams, he yearns, he cries – openly, in front of huge audiences. 

Generally, showing emotions is considered an act of weakness. Emotions are often connected to illogical behavior, to act out of it: to act female. Femininity is also tied to caring (the mother), to hysteria (the crazy ex-girlfriend), to being the weaker sex.

Vessel plays with these notions effortlessly, combining notions of the male-read body with female-read traits. But we see a catch here: He hides behind a mask. The true exposure to the audience, to his emotions, happens while he conceals himself. This juxtaposition of binary gender notions through physical display is interesting to look at, and it raises even more questions concerning our current understanding of gender/masculinity. 

Very often, men wear masks in everyday life by concealing their true emotions, often resulting in violent acts or an exertion of overt (toxic) masculinity. 

These lyrics beautifully emphasize this internalized cognitive dissonance, where Vessel expresses his self-hatred, his need for acceptance/love, and often the inability to move on.

Queerness: From The Other to Kissing Men on Stage

Despite being read as a male from his physique alone, Vessel also displays a queer notion of gender and masculinity. He conceals himself, he paints himself black, and he creates an image people can identify with while simultaneously acknowledging his Otherness. 

Some people might feel appalled by his decision to “dress up,” to hide his true identity, and therefore, it creates a barrier between him and the audience. At the same time, he is obviously human. His decision not to conform to societal standards and wear a mask (2) is queer in itself: Even if he would not stand out for his musical talent, he still draws attention to himself because of his costume. 

Additionally, in former performances, the members of Sleep Token (all male despite the Esperas, the background singers) exchanged hugs, kisses, or even an occasional straddling. This deconstructs another dimension of (toxic) masculinity, namely the fear of being intimate with another man. Now, I am not aware if these actions truly stem from a homosexual nature or if they are just utilized to appeal to a certain idea (3), but there is an undeniable effect on a specific demographic, namely, homophobes. Being appalled by one's decision to dress up is one thing, but openly displaying heterosexual “acts” might truly be considered outrageous to some (mostly men). 

Therefore, the band chooses to disregard multiple ideas of (hetero)normativity by challenging the notions of gender and masculinity. 

Now the Actual Analysis: The Suffering, Providing Man

As mentioned in the beginning, this section deals with two songs from the latest album. I have listened to the band’s discography many, many times, and I am aware that other songs deal with similar (or almost exactly the same) topics. I am merely using these songs because they gave me the idea for this analysis (and because they are [excuse my language] fucking great). The observations made before will be taken into consideration as well and have therefore been briefly discussed beforehand. 

Because Dangerous appears first in the album’s chronological order, it will be analyzed first and compared with similar themes in Provider. 

Now, considering everything that has been mentioned about the singer’s appearance and how it relates to masculinity, one might think the title Dangerous refers to him as being the male danger: A predator, ready to pounce on the vulnerable prey. Looking at the lyrics proves us wrong, because it’s not “I am dangerous” but “It’s like you’re dangerous to me/I notice every time we meet/The ground beneath my feet giving way.” Oh, and how he suffers from it! He loses sleep, he cannot control himself, and wants to “blur the lines just one last time” because he cannot recall the last time he felt such “dark desire and tainted bliss.” 

Right from the start, we understand that Vessel is not the danger but that someone else threatens him because he is incapable of resisting this pull. He is vulnerable; he tries to fight it, but they have “awakened what’s beneath again,” and therefore any resistance is in vain. 

Right away, he shows a form of masculinity that is contrary to binary gender notions: The man as the controlling power and the woman as the submissive object of desire. Here, it is the other way around since he finds himself within somebody else’s grip, and he battles, but ultimately gives in to his desires, to the other’s influence. 

The title “Provider” already evokes imagery tied to masculinity: The man is the one who provides. And Vessel instantly affirms this notion by singing “I wanna be a provider.” He further paints the picture by providing lyrics that hint at possessiveness, domination, and sexuality: “Your guiding hand, your final decider/That bit of fuel to your fire, stoke your desire/Just let me know that you’re mine.” He further emphasizes these stereotypical male/female roles by implying to spoil his lover (“Garner you in silk like a spider”), and his relentless attempt to win them over (“And you’re the only game I’d like to lose”). This already links the term provider to predator: He has been interested before, and he set his mind to this cat-and-mouse game that is ultimately going to result in trapping the love interest – like a spider’s web. Vessel also plays with suggestive imagery by saying his love interest has a “bad body” or calling them a “good girl,” as well as stating that he wants to “do more than just bend the rules.” 

Despite the initial impression that he is the main initiator of this, he also reveals that both parties feel attracted to each other: “'Cause you been hittin' my phone so hard/I found it breathin’ through a tube in the ICU” and “Exchanging the years in silence/With something unsaid on both ends.” Therefore, despite him being the one taking action, (“The last time we were around/Each other/I found myself hesitating/But I know I will not now”) it is also clear that he is not acting as a predator cornering his prey and ultimately taking what he wants, but what both of them wanted for some time now (4). Also, by stating that he could have acted before but hesitated, he also admits to vulnerability, to insecurity. Since he got the impression that his lover is also interested by texting him so much his phone needed to go to the hospital, he finds the courage to act and become the initiator – promising to provide (duh) whatever his lover wants and getting it “so right.” 

The band’s lore has somewhat agreed on Vessel and Sleep (Him) being in a toxic on-and-off relationship. It is also stated that Vessel only serves as a mouthpiece (5) and only spreads His message without being related to it at all. However, in both cases, Vessel represents a male figure who is yearning, someone who puts his emotions into words and acts on them. He does not, at least in these instances, merely observe and report his misery, but he acknowledges his feelings and is not afraid to confess his needs. He does not simply take what he wants (like a real alpha-male would), but he makes sure that the interest is mutual, that his vulnerability is not ultimately met with disappointment or even rejection (6). And he makes sure to emphasize that he is going to take good care of his lover – a sign of empathy.

Even though both songs present an undertone of predatory behavior, he does not act predatory and represents a healthy form of masculinity that is not scared to admit what is mostly considered weaknesses, or strictly tied to females: Mistakes, negative emotions, and not being in control. 

Tying the Knot: Final Thoughts and the “Male Loneliness Epidemic”

As I have analyzed, Sleep Token’s Vessel portrays a notion of masculinity free from toxic ideas of having to present themselves as the tower of strength and instead owning one’s vulnerability and emotions. Either as the speaker of Sleep or as himself, Vessel wraps his audience around his slender finger with promises of care, loyalty, and maybe even some freaky (excuse my language) shit (7). 

Tying everything together nicely, let us return to the comment mentioned at the beginning of this text, found on Reddit that says: “Provider is now the bar at which my lover will be judged,” and linking it to the Male Loneliness Epidemic we hear so much about lately.

Now, I want to preface this by stating that dating surely is not easy for men. However, considering alpha-males such as Andrew Tate and the toxic, outdated ideologies they spread while having considerable influence, especially on young audiences, I want men who truly feel lonely to reflect. Many people appreciate open communication and showing emotions – especially women. You do not have to paint yourself black and cry into a microphone to attract somebody’s attention, but some traits common with Vessel might help, such as: Consensus, empathy, and acknowledging feelings as valid. Garnering them in silk might also work. But please do not take/feed any blood without permission. 

In my paper, “Trauma and Healing in the Action-Adventure Game The Last of Us 2”, I explore how the game represents psychological trauma through its narrative and gameplay elements. Additionally, I hint at the possibility that not only the characters within the game but also the players are experiencing trauma second-hand and are working towards healing.

In the first part, I outline major concepts in trauma theory by referring to some of the most prominent figures in trauma studies. The most important key concepts are: repetition compulsion (Freud), acting out and working through (LaCapra), and survivor guilt (Herman and Lifton).

In the analytical part, I emphasize that the narrative structure of the game is a tool of traumatic storytelling in itself. The fragmented, nonlinear, and emotionally intense narrative mirrors traumatic memory, enhancing the emotional rollercoaster ride by switching between and intertwining two storylines: those of Ellie and Abby. Both are on a quest for revenge, but only Abby reaches her goal, whereas Ellie painfully experiences the emotional downfall of losing herself in her quest. This (bold) choice of telling a highly-emotional narrative encourages empathy for both characters while simultaneously blurring moral lines.

The traumatic event for both involves the death of their father(figure), and both characters seek to avenge the seemingly unjustly death of a loved one. Additionally, Ellie suffers from survivor's guilt, both from the events of the first game and the second, where she was unable to aid Joel, involuntarily experiencing his death first-hand. The repetition compulsion, then, is the need to repeat the traumatic event to create a sense of control: In her quest for revenge, Ellie kills many people who were not involved in Joel’s killing. Additionally, her dreams, journal entries, and decisions exemplify acting out. Ultimately, Ellie works through her trauma by accepting Joel’s passing and sparing Abby’s life since both characters do not find peace through violent acts.

When Alien: Isolation was published, its AI was marketed as a “learning entity” that adapts to the player’s gaming style, presenting an inevitable threat that needed to be avoided at all costs since it could not be defeated. Usually, the player uses weaponry to defend themselves, but even the alien’s initial weakness, fire, proves useless as the alien seems to develop a higher resistance. Additionally, it even searches lockers and other hiding spots that the player regularly utilizes for their defense. Therefore, the player cannot run or hide: The alien will find them.

But is that really the case? Years after the game’s release, the publishers de-constructed the alien’s AI and explained how it works. Until then, it operated on patterns unbeknownst to the player. They could see that the alien reacted toward sounds or movements but when it suddenly crawled underneath the table and pulled the player out of it for their inevitable death, even though the alien had no visual clues for the player’s current position, they ultimately realized that they were powerless against their enemy. 

When the input and output are known, but the mechanisms in between are not, it is called a “black box.” A black box describes processes we cannot understand, and often, when we try to de-blackbox, so to unveil the mechanisms behind a system, we quickly realize that more black boxes are revealed. A scholar named Latour used the example of a projector: It is used daily, no questions arise behind its mechanisms or workings, but as soon as one part malfunctions and needs repair, we are exposed to our lack of knowledge – the black box. 

In the case of the alien, or any NPC (non-playable character), the AI’s black box becomes visible when the player faces an obstacle they cannot overcome, or if the behavioral pattern does not add up to the player’s expectations. Consider this: the player provokes a sound and expects the alien to investigate – but it does not. The player repeats the process, and still, the alien does not show up. They turn around to leave, but they are greeted by the alien turning the corner and bodyslamming them into another death screen. The player asks themselves if this was an error on the AI’s part or if it was programmed unfairly (There is an interesting article on that subject by Jaroslav Švelch: “Should the Monster Play Fair?: Reception of Artificial Intelligence in Alien: Isolation”).

The process just described is “Step 2: interest (interruption, detour, enlistment)” in Latour’s sequence of “Reversible Blackboxing:” It is the moment we realize a process is not working in the way we are used to, leading to an interruption or detour and creating interest in its inner workings. This interest more often than not is forced upon since mechanisms are seldom questioned. 

Let’s deconstruct the alien’s black box now by using the information the developers published. There are extensive video essays on how the AI works on YouTube, so I will cover the basic concept. The AI consists of two parts: 1) the Director, and 2) the alien itself. The Director AI overviews the alien’s and player’s movements and current locations and guides the alien into the general area of the player. The alien, then, needs to utilize the reactions in its behavioral tree to either search an area for visual or audio clues or wait until the player reveals their whereabouts. Additionally, the Director overviews the “Menace Gauge,” a tension meter that determines whether to send the alien away from the player for them to progress or provoke an encounter. 

As mentioned, the alien bases its reactions on a behavioral tree, which can easily be described as branches containing reactions when something is triggered. The alien can choose from different sub-behaviors and unlock them as the game progresses. So when, at the beginning of the game, the Director sends the alien in the player’s direction, its behavior tree might only include roaming the area, whereas as the game progresses, the alien might search in lockers additionally since it could not locate the player through other clues/behaviors alone. Therefore, the alien is not a learning entity in terms of adjusting to the player’s gaming style: Even if the player does not hide in the vents regularly, the alien might still search them. Even if the player does not defend themselves with fire, the alien might still develop a higher resistance. Even if the player runs from one part of the map to the other, the alien will still find it because of the Director. 

Therefore, through deconstructing the alien’s AI, we understand that the player’s choices have no impact on the alien’s learning or behavior – it simply utilizes the sub-behaviors implemented in its behavioral tree. However, deconstructing this black box uncovers another phenomenon briefly mentioned before: more black boxes. Even though we now know how the alien operates, the behavior tree or when it unlocks specific sub-reactions is still an opaque process to us and the player.