1241: The Trouble with Rule 34

Lest you’re unfamiliar with one of the most notorious “Rules of the Internet”, Rule 34 states that “There is porn of it. No exceptions.” In other words, if it exists, someone, somewhere, somehow has generated some form of pornographic version of it. It may be “official”, it may be a fan work, but one way or another there is some sort of pornography based around absolutely anything you can think of.

My issue with Rule 34 is not that it exists, nor the fact that it’s true in an alarmingly high number of cases. No, my issue with Rule 34 is somewhat more psychological in nature.

Let’s back up a moment. Currently I’m playing Ar Tonelico Qoga on PS3, a game that features a mechanic in which characters take their clothes off in order to become more powerful. (It is justified in the game’s lore, to its credit, but yes, it is totally fanservicey.) Consequently, you spend a hefty amount of time in the game looking at the cast in their skimpies — particularly the female characters.

And yet do I want to see them actually completely naked? Do I want to see them — if you’ll pardon the explicitness for a moment — getting fucked roughly from behind or covered in jizz? Well… no, not really.

Why not, though? I find the characters themselves attractive — enough to want to spend virtual time with them, enough to genuinely agonise over decision points that require me to pick between them, and enough to project my own feelings about various issues and people onto them — so why don’t I feel the need to look at erotic material featuring them?

Well, the simple answer is… because of all the reasons I listed above. In a good character-led game (or movie, or TV series, or book, or whatever) you develop a close, intimate bond with the characters involved. In many cases, you spend a significant portion of time with them, and usually at a point in their life that is somehow meaningful or important in some way. This “important” moment could be anything from coming to terms with something small they’ve been in denial about for a long time, or it could be saving the world alongside them. Either way, you’re there with them, and you feel close to them. All right, maybe you don’t, but I do.

Consequently, unless you’re the sort of person who has a somewhat… physical relationship with your closest friends, to suddenly throw nakedness and banging into the mix can be somewhat… jarring. If my virtual time with these people has been, up until this point, entirely non-sexual (or at least, not explicitly sexual), I find it a bit weird to suddenly see them in this whole other way, and not at all comfortable in many cases. Kind of like, say, if I had a sister, suddenly saw her naked and got turned on in the process. (I don’t, haven’t and wouldn’t, before you rethink your friendship with me.)

Which is kind of weird when you think about it, sister stuff aside. (Kind of wish I hadn’t mentioned that now.) Being physically intimate with someone else is… well, the clue’s in what I just said. It’s intimate. If you’re very close with someone you love, chances are you want to have sex with them. (Sometimes you want to have sex with people you don’t love, but that’s an entirely different matter.) And yet I have no desire to look up erotic images of, say, Finnel from Ar Tonelico Qoga (pictured to the right), even though she’s a character I feel close to and can relate to in many ways having spent the last 56 (at last count) hours of gameplay with her.

I wonder why this is? It’s perhaps the fact that a lot of pornography (“real” or otherwise) is presented from a third-person perspective, making the viewer feel somewhat detached from the action. (Exceptions do, of course, exist.) Taking this interpretation to an extreme, I could probably argue that looking at an erotic image of, say, Finnel getting banged would feel like I was watching someone else having sex with her, rather than finding the image of her naked body in any way arousing, or feeling like I was the one in a physically intimate situation with her.

An exception to the feelings I describe above comes in the realm of eroge — visual novels with erotic content. In this case, the lack of “discomfort” I feel at seeing the characters in compromising situations is perhaps more understandable — it is, in many cases, in context. It’s not out of character for the protagonist of a visual novel and his loved one to want to indulge in some nookie to show how much they’re into each other. In many cases, the actual sexual content is teased and built up to with sexual tension — for all its faults and ridiculousness, I found that My Girlfriend is the President was actually very good at this, for example; the ero scenes were undoubtedly erotic, but I didn’t find them satisfying because of that — no, I found them satisfying because they marked a turning point in these characters’ relationships, or saw them showing a side of themselves that “the public” didn’t see.

In other words, in these cases, the sex doesn’t feel out of place or out of character because of the context. It makes sense. The relationship between the characters (and between the characters and player) is built on the understanding that these are people for whom sex is A Thing, and that they’re probably going to want to do it at some point. With that expectation in place, it somehow feels less awkward. (Until someone walks in on you watching an H-scene, of course.)

Perhaps I’m alone in this, and everyone who loved Final Fantasy VII as much as I did when I was younger is happily wanking away to contextless animated GIFs of Tifa giving Cloud a soapy titwank. I don’t know. And I have a strange feeling no-one would admit to it even if they did!