Wireframe - #25 - 2019

(Romina) #1
wfmag.cc \ 63

Review

Rated


Review

Unable to escape its own political misery


merican Election opens with a
choice about where Abigail’s
grandmother is from: Shanghai,
Nairobi, Rio, or Warsaw.
The choice doesn’t matter.
There was a war, she came to America looking
for a new life. She had your mother. The game
is making a point here – a point about choice
and xenophobia. Because, your father points
out, he is a true American. Your mother can’t be.
She’s the child of an immigrant.
It’s 2016 when American Election picks up,
and we have a memory of a second-generation
immigrant mother being dunked on by a proud,
white, American father. That’s when the cop
pulls you over. And playing this in 2019, well, it
feels a bit on the nose.
It’s a story Abigail is telling her boss,
presidential hopeful, Truman Glass
(a transparent stand-in for US President, Donald
Trump). Abigail wants to get him elected,
believes he’s good for the country. Over the
next several chapters, it unfolds towards the
inevitable conclusion – a facsimile of our current
world state. There are choices, but their impact
on the story’s trajectory is slight.
Greg Buchanan’s American Election is a train
with no brakes. A ceaselessly nihilistic tone poem
about the inevitability of the Trump presidency,
the arbitrary nature of choice, and the limitations
of the individual. Truman Glass will get elected at
the end. Abigail will continue to be a struggling
third-generation wreck of a lesbian with no
real answers. The only answer American Election
can provide is “This horror is inevitable.”

As a brown, queer woman living in America,
I get it. Believe me, I do. All of my friends
are exhausted and sick from this perpetual
nightmare. It’s why I can’t help but feel American
Election stumbles. Having run through the game
multiple times, seeing what changes and what
doesn’t, I kept walking away asking myself, “What
is the point?”
Truman Glass is the kind of villain you’d expect
to find in a political thriller novel abandoned on
an airport terminal seat. There are moments
of tension in American Election, underlined by
shaking text (which can be turned off), but this
isn’t a Tom Clancy novel. The game strives for
significance, but it can’t see the full scope of the
political monstrosity.
As writer and critic Colin Spacetwinks has
said, “Political writing as a genre tends to be split
entirely between comedy and taut thriller, not
understanding that they are both at the same
time, and it is boring, terrifying, absurd, and
exhausting all at once.”
An early choice allows players to call the
future president, ‘Orange’. It’s a cheap, greasy
move, and the dividends refuse to pay out. Along
with other narrative and thematic decisions, it
siphons what vitality the game could have.
The game’s best moments of genuine,
personal pathos – Abigail’s remembrances of her
ex-girlfriend, her divestment from herself and
her life, a beloved childhood dog – are undercut
by Buchanan’s restless need to drive home his
political messaging. As overwhelming as politics
can be in our lives, American Election stumbles in
replicating this constant dread.

American Election


A


VERDICT
While taut and tense
at times, American
Election is an exhausting
experience that lacks
real imagination or the
willingness to grapple with
the complex banality of
American politics.

40 %


GENRE
Interactive fiction
FORMAT
Browser-based
DEVELOPER
Greg Buchanan
PUBLISHER
Self-published,
itch.io
PRICE
Free
RELEASE
Out now

Info


Review

Rated


REVIEWED BY
Dia Lacina

HIGHLIGHT
Though scattered and spare, Abigail’s
personal, emotional journeys through
memory can be quite affecting. There’s
an uneasy tone and stark griminess to
her personal tragedy and failure that
at times helps elevate the ponderous
political narrative to something more
than incomplete parable.

 The simple but personally profound
choice of naming a beloved family
dog is one of the ‘apolitical’ choices
woven into this narrative.
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