I’ve been yelling about story in sports games since I can remember. It’s such a fundamental part of sports, that has been ignored by games as a medium.
Just take a quick look at ESPN’s 30 for 30 documentary series and you can see the importance narrative has on professional sports. There’s Without Bias a documentary about the rise and death of NBA prospect, Len Bias, and No Crossover: The Trial of Allen Iverson, a in depth look at the trial that almost derailed the career of Allen Iverson. Professional sports and the narratives surrounding the athletes who play them run parallel. They give fans a reason to watch, love, hate and cheer that isn’t dependent on geographical location.
And Visual Concepts, developers of NBA 2k16, finally agrees with me.
Spike Lee is credited with writing and directing a short interactive film that appears during the first year of of NBA 2k16 myPLAYER, entitled Livin’ Da Dream. Few things in life makes you say, ‘duh,’ like Spike directing myPLAYER. Spike Lee is the world’s biggest New York Knicks fan and directed He Got Game, a movie centered around a young high school baskeball player starring Ray Allen and Denzel Washington.
Livin’ Da Dream follows the young Frequency Vibration’s (Freq for short) journey from the projects in Harlem, New York to NBA all-star. It deals with survivor’s guilt, abandonment, greed, stereotypes within Black families, Blackness and poverty; with games of basketball dispersed in between. Sadly, these sensitive issues lose their poignancy, because of some questionable dialogue, lackluster acting and that dirty word everyone hates, dissonance.
Spike Lee does something profound with the black family in Livin’ Da Dream — he actually shows a black family, which is the bare minimum for representation. It’s an alternative to the banal depiction of Blackness media has lazily and racistly settled for. Freq has both of his parents, neither of which are on any kind of drugs, and they love and care for both of their children as well as each other. Spike builds on these relationships with moments like Freq’s mother lovingly recounting how the nickname Frequency Vibrations came to fruition while at press conference; the scene unfolds in such a compelling way the name Freq is endearing afterwards.
Representation of those living in poverty is handled in a laudable fashion. Poor is a financial statues, not a characteristic. Freq’s family isn’t defined by their tax bracket; they are defined by their consciences. It also shows, maybe unintentionally, how often we depict the homes of the poor. Maybe more so than other homes it is important to create a safe place when living in impoverished neighborhoods, even if it is just an accident by Spike and designers, Freq’s home is not destitute.
Environmental pressures of living in the projects that could possibly influence Freq are communicated through a childhood friend by the name of Vic. He is Freq‘s antithesis. Where Freq is steadfast, Vic is reckless and lost; where Freq had structure and love, Vic had turmoil and loneliness. He personifies the challenges of growing up young, black and poor. He is the constant contrast of how fortunate Freq was amid misfortune, and the sole cause of his survivor’s guilt. Freq and Vic’s relationship are the core of the narrative, and the main source of tension.
These differences result in Vic using Freq’s status and wealth for his own personal gain — he refers to himself as Friend of Freq, or an FOF. Vic is, also, an alcoholic. In one of the earlier high-school scenes in the short film he appears drunk; Freq and Freq‘s sister, Cici, try to convince him to attend class unsuccessfully. This, unfortunate, addiction combined with other Vic-oriented catastrophes cause a multitude of schism between Freq, his agent, owner of the team and family — the owner gives a laughable monologue on the ill-effects of Vic, in which he yells, “V-G-G Vic’s gotta go.” Everyone with the exception of Freq thinks Vic is destructive and reflects poorly onto Freq.
Freq defends Vic to no end to everyone. He even in a scene lays out to Cici that he knows everyone is ‘bloodsucker’ from her, to his agent, to his girlfriend are all Freinds of Freq, and Vic is no different.
Predictably, there is a secret only Vic and Freq share that keeps this parasitic friendship in tact. The reveal of said secret is Livin’ Da Dream at its best. beautifully acted, Spike’s dialogue is affecting and brutally honest in the scene. How that reveal affected my view of Freq is an unfortunate byproduct.
The circumstances surrounding the secret happened while Freq and Vic were in high school, and, sure, as teenagers I can see the fear of that situation potentially ruining Freq’s chances as a college prospect; especially, when the situation would have involved police and Freq and Vic are young black men living in Harlem — admittedly, this point could be me interjecting my own fan-canon into the narrative, and not something that was intended by Spike Lee, but, to me, it makes the scene believable. Freq, as an adult, should not be afraid of the consequences of this secret. With the resources he has there’s no way what I understood to happen in the scene could have any affect on his adult career; it makes Freq seem stupid, or naive, and undercuts the gravity of the scene when pondered further.
Vic and Freq’s relationship finally does come to a head, and the results of the climax, again, showcase why Livin’ Da Dream is special. There’s even a great symbolic monologue from Vic at the film’s end. It explains that Vic wasn’t a cataclysmic leech, just a misguided young black man, that given a chance could have been different.
The dissonance surfaces when the narrative refuses to acknowledge Freq’s abilities and player rating. I was drafted tenth overall by the Miami Heat, yet, the game gave me a rating of 57. Justin Winslow, who was the actual 10th overall pick by the Miami Heat this year, has a rating of 71 — that’s a difference of 14. A massive gulf in talent. Player’s with the talent that equates to a 57 aren’t lottery picks in the NBA, they’re destined for developmental league hell.
The narrative doesn’t at all recognize this quandary. Dom Pagnotti, Freq‘s agent, promises Freq signature sneakers and the owner throws the amount of money he is paying you in your face in seemingly every conversation. All this is happening while on court Freq couldn’t break down centers in isolation at the top of the key. It’s absurdly dissonant.
Typically rookies do need several years of adjustment when coming to the NBA, and I don’t wish to circumvent the maturation of Freq‘s talent. But the lack of coherence between game-play and narrative dismantles the fantasy of being a lottery pick, because Freq does not play as though he were one.
I don’t think Livin’ Da Dream fails because of its dissonance. It’s a glaring problem with the game, but understandably, a result of Spike Lee not having any experience in game development. Visual Concepts worked around what he did best, instead of asking him to work in a medium he didn’t understand.
Livin’ Da Dream is beautifully discordant; it has scenes that are well-acted, well-written and well-directed, but it’s ineffective in nailing all of its thematic points due to some plain ol’ corny scenes — like, “Lifetime” corny. Livin’ Da Dream neglects any player involvement for the sake of telling a linear narrative, and the dissonant moments that are a consequence of that are uniquely special to NBA 2k16, as a result of it’s reliance on mirroring reality. But with all these glaring faults, it still delivers on giving players an experience unlike any other sports game. To not have a Livin’ Da Dream equivalent in next year’s NBA 2k would be a disservice to the genre, because it is the new standard.
Oh yeah, it’s still a damn good basketball sim.
