Māori culture shouldn’t be something that’s half-heartedly appropriated for some cool video game visuals. So why do developers keep doing it?

This year’s Xbox E3 Briefing kicked off with a new game reveal, Bleeding Edge – a multiplayer action game in which players fight in 4v4 battles – and some exciting news for New Zealand players: one of the characters is a Māori cyborg. 

The trailer includes a montage of characters from around the globe, including Makutu – the man of the hour, presumably named for the te reo Māori word ‘mākutu’, meaning to inflict pain or death through magic or witchcraft (although the lack of a macron on the video game version renders it meaningless). In the flurry of excitement over E3, Makutu’s reveal was a blink and you’ll miss it moment. To a drowsily enraptured Kiwi audience on a Sunday morning though, it was the only thing that mattered. It’s no secret that New Zealanders squeal in glee at the mere mention of their homeland, so the presence of a Māori character was sure to set off paroxysms of excitement around the country.

But closer inspection revealed that Makutu wasn’t the Māori representation that I had been waiting for. Instead he represented an issue I’ve seen in video games for a long time. Makutu is a colossal, cybernetically enhanced, rugby playing Wellingtonian. If that sounds too good to be true, it’s because it is. In place of his moko, Makutu is emblazoned with a circuit board design, and a mechanical gear carved from pounamu rests on his chest. Do you get it? It’s because it’s the future.

Bleeding Edge’s twist is that each character is cybernetically enhanced, giving them unique abilities on the battlefield. It presents a colourfully dystopian future in which cybernetic augmentation is commonplace. The pounamu and moko are stripped of their cultural meaning and instead used for cheap world-building. In short: Makutu’s Māori heritage is just another visual shortcut to convey the game’s theme. 

It’s a shame to see such significant cultural symbols reduced to set-dressing, but it’s nothing new. A recent wave of Māori characters in popular games has brought a lot of exciting progress, and a lot of bafflingly ignorant decisions too. Earlier this year EA’s battle royale shooter Apex Legends featured Gibraltar, another Māori character. He was voiced by Branscombe Richmond, a Native American actor. Somebody should probably tell EA that Māori and Native Americans are not the same thing.

Game companies frequently struggle with casting for non-white characters. Uncharted 4’s Nadine Ross, a black woman, was played by Laura Bailey, a white actress. Similarly, Clementine from The Walking Dead is African-American, but in the video game version is played by Melissa Hutchison – another white actress. 

There seems to be a belief that just because a voice actor isn’t seen cultural background isn’t an issue. Any voice actor will tell you that there’s more to the job than putting on a funny voice, so why do so many of these performances begin and end with fake accents? Even the most skilled actor couldn’t imitate a lifetime of culture. It’s important to say that this is definitely a casting issue and not the fault of the actors themselves. Voice actors aren’t very well treated, and even the most prolific voice actors can’t afford to back out of such massive roles.

The responsibility for casting Gibraltar in Apex Legends was on EA’s shoulders, and they screwed the pooch. As with Makutu, Gibraltar’s culture is frequently used as nothing more than a spectacle – a way to make his violence more exotic. One of Gibraltar’s finishing moves involves him smashing the enemy’s head into the ground as he performs a short haka. One of his unlockable skins also bears a striking resemblance to a Mongrel Mob uniform, although this has been contested. Using this imagery for nothing more than aesthetics is, at the very best, ignorant as hell.

Even if such characters aren’t explicitly offensive, these portrayals represent a wider issue with how smaller cultures are handled in entertainment. Gazing upon Makutu sparked a realisation that this isn’t for us – Kiwis aren’t the intended audience. There’s an expectation when adopting cultural imagery that those cultures won’t be the ones watching. The imagery exists to make the world more “exotic” for the presumed white American audience.

It’s clear that accuracy isn’t the goal. Take a moko, or a hei pounamu, and twist them to tell whatever story you feel like telling – who cares? Make it a cog, I guess. Your on-the-nose symbolism is more important than its cultural significance, anyway. Twilight made vampires sparkle, Bright made elves capitalists, you’ve gotta put your own spin on this stuff – make it yours.

The problem is that, well, Māori are real. You can’t selectively pick the stuff you think is neat and then change the rest. It’s disturbingly easy to treat real-life cultures as a fantasy pick ‘n’ mix, but Māori people aren’t elves or vampires. There’s no “fresh take” on indigenous culture.

I remember playing Far Cry 3 at the ripe age of 12 and being thrilled to hear the magic words ‘kia ora’ and ‘ka kite’ spoken by real life virtual people. But I also remember those same virtual people speaking Indonesian and Malay, two completely distinct languages, I remember the generic tribal tattoos plastered all over the menus, and I even remember bumping into a few cassowaries (demon birds that live in New Guinea).

The developers of Far Cry 3 couldn’t pick just one Asia-Pacific culture to appropriate, so they grabbed a handful. And that’s not how it works! It was the exact same ‘take what you like, leave the rest’ approach we see today with Bleeding Edge, only applied to a whole bunch of cultures at once. At least seven years later they have the decency to just fuck with one culture at a time. It’s discouraging to see this philosophy stick around for so long, even if it’s become slightly less terrible. 

It’s not all bad, though. The most recent expansion to Civilization VI introduced a lovingly crafted Māori civilisation, led by Kupe, complete with a buildable marae. With enough care, and actual collaboration with Māori, they produced a result that everyone could be excited about. There’s so much potential here and, if anything, the recent effort to introduce Māori characters to gaming has been exciting to see. It’s at least clear that these companies want to have an authentic portrayal of a Māori person in their games. The problem is that most of them just end up half-assing it.

In this year alone the number of Māori characters I’ve played as in video games has doubled from one to two, which is an exciting sign of things to come. When game developers actually collaborate with the Māori community, the result is staggering. When treated properly, interactive mediums like gaming are the perfect place to engage with Māori culture. It’s a shame that so many games keep missing the mark, but the road to representation is paved with fuck ups. It’s our job to keep pointing them out.

Tara Ward talks to three creative Kiwis who’ve been spurred on by their favourite TV show to some gloriously niche things.  

Some people reckon television is a bad influence, but to them I say, turn on The Chase and chill out. I’ll put up with having square eyes and a rotten brain, as long as there are wonderful people in the world who can harness the power of television for good, like Rebecca Reckin, Jessica Hammond and Laura Vincent.

These clever New Zealanders are proof that television can inspire us to do incredible things. They’ve discovered new passions, tackled terrifying challenges and transported us to other worlds, all thanks to a love for their favourite television show. The old gogglebox makes them happy, and in turn, they’ve shared this joy in a variety of niche ways.

What is it about television that makes people want to do cool stuff in the real world?  All I know is each of these women inspired me more than the time the Celebrity Chasers beat The Beast with five pushbacks, and I didn’t think anything could top that.

Rebecca Reckin recreated an Outlander set in miniature 

Rebecca Reckin’s tribute to Outlander shows that good things come in small packages. Rebecca’s love for the Scottish time-travelling series inspired her to dedicate the past 11 months to creating a tiny replica of Master Raymond’s apothecary, the mystical store Claire visits in season two, and the finished result would leave even Jenny Fraser lost for words.

This is probably the closest we’ll ever get to falling through the stones into Outlander’s world. Rebecca spent hours pouring over images from the show to painstakingly transform a plain miniature kitset into an eighteenth century Parisian building, one little piece at a time, and her attention to detail is astonishing.  Whether it’s Master Raymond’s iconic jacket, the intricate wall panels, or the tiny labels on the tiny bottles, Rebecca’s house is a wee work of art.

It has me more agog than the episode where Claire and Jamie reunited after 200 years apart. Rebecca reckons Claire would’ve been just as amazed when she first stepped inside Master Raymond’s apothecary, and it’s this idea of being transported to another time that Rebecca loves most about Outlander. “Claire’s a normal person thrown into an abnormal situation,” she says. “How would I go if I ended up 300 years in the past?”

I reckon the super-talented Rebecca would be just fine if she woke up in 1744. She’s preparing for her first public exhibition, where no doubt Master Raymond will cast his spell on a new audience. “The best part is I enjoy doing it, but now it’s done, I’m pleased other people are appreciating it,” Rebecca says.  If Jamie Fraser could see it, I’m sure he’d raise his tiniest tricorn in happiness.

Jessica Hammond tried stand-up comedy thanks to the Marvelous Mrs Maisel

A two-season binge of The Marvelous Mrs Maisel, the witty dramedy about a woman who turns to stand-up comedy when her life falls apart, lit a spark in Jessica Hammond.  “Just watching it, I had this moment: real people do this,” Jessica says, and quickly signed herself up to an open-mic comedy night in Wellington.

It’s a bloody scary thing, to stand up in front of strangers and try to make them laugh.  “I was terrified,” Jessica admits, but whether it was luck or Midge Maisel’s leather-gloved hand of fate, Jessica only had a short time to prepare her routine. “I had ten days to write it, learn it and be up there, which was good, because I didn’t have time to freak out too much.”

As an actor and political candidate, Jessica is used to talking to groups of people, but stand-up was a fresh challenge. “In theatre, you’re trying to make people feel different things, and with politics, you’re trying to convince people of different things,” she says. “But with comedy, there’s only one goal, to get laughs. You get very immediate feedback.”

Jessica felt the fear and did it anyway. Midge gets arrested during her first set, but Jessica’s debut went far more smoothly. She talked about Marvelous Mrs Maisel, as well as the importance of voting in local government elections, “which is obviously a hilarious subject.” She felt elated afterwards, and is hungry for more. “I like the idea of being able to say something with comedy,” she says.

That’s exactly what Midge does, but whatever happens next, Jessica’s stoked she gave stand-up a go.  “I almost never regret having a go at these challenging things,” she says. “It can’t really go wrong, because I will have learned something. You know, what have you got to lose?”

Laura Vincent’s love for Frasier inspired a blog based on the food from the show 

If you’ve always wanted to read something that mixes admiration for an award-winning ‘90s American sitcom with delicious food and sharp, insightful commentary, then writer Laura Vincent’s gloriously niche blog La Cigare Volant is all your dreams come true.

The premise is simple: Laura watches an episode of her favourite show Frasier, creates a dish inspired by it, and writes about the two. Her food is a delicious mix of high and low, just like Frasier itself, with dishes like Cookie Dough for One and Beer Bread and Dominic Crean’s Cultured Butter. There’s comfort in the show and comfort in the food, and together, it’s a starving TV lover’s dream.

Laura’s food inspiration comes either from direct mentions in the show, or more laterally, like the i riche e i poveri dish she made after she watched her favourite episode, ‘A Midsummer’s Nights Dream’. This is the first episode to address Miles’ secret love for Daphne, and Laura reckons the Italian dish that essentially translates to ‘richness and broke’ is a perfect representation of their relationship.

Of course, La Cigare Volant is about more than just the food. Laura dives deep into each episode, thoughtfully pulling out nuances and subtleties that make Frasier feel richer than her chocolate truffles from episode 15. It’s a show that brings her joy, and her love for Frasier sings from the page. “I want to do right by the episodes,” she says. “I don’t want to come in and just say this is an amazing episode of TV. I want to work out why it’s so good.”

Laura’s nearly at the end of Frasier‘s first season, but don’t panic, she’s not planning to stop. “I don’t mind if I write it sporadically forever more, until I run out of episodes,” she says.  “Even if it’s just me that reads it, it makes me super happy.”

It makes us super happy, too. Thank you, television, may we harness your power for good forever more.