The Matrix Reloaded

by JD Wiker

[Webmaster's Note: Parts of JD's review to contain spoilers.]

I took a little time last week to go see the most anticipated sequel of the year, The Matrix Reloaded, and in the time since I saw it, I've been meaning to write a review for the website. But I've been really, really busy, which is rather fortunate, since it gave me time to digest the movie and formulate my opinions a little more solidly.

Now, this is coming from a guy who owns seven Matrix action figures (including the ultra-cool Squiddy), the 12-inch Neo and the 12-inch Trinity (both of whom I've outfitted with additional guns from other 12-inch figure collections), The Matrix Revisited, the Enter the Matrix PC game, and, of course, the original The Matrix, which I've watched maybe a couple of dozen times.

So I'm every bit the fan that the average fan is, if not more so, and I have to say, that I was very, very disappointed in The Matrix Reloaded.

I've got a lot of reasons, but I think you've probably heard them all, so I'll just hit the highlights:

• Too much boring philosophy (none of which was particularly as high-concept as the original's "shed your doubts and you can undergo apotheosis" theme);
• Visually exciting fights that were ultimately just diversions (because you never really got the impression that the good guys were going to lose);
• Poor visual effects (because they were disturbingly easy to spot for anyone who's played a video game in the last couple of years);
• Muddled editing (the planning of the reactor assault/reaction to the planning/execution of the reactor assault was so jarring that I thought it was actually a preview for the next movie);
• That ridiculous rave in Zion;
• No real sympathetic characters in Zion (with the exception of Zee-and even she came off as a bit of a nagging housewife);
• No exploration of Neo's revelation to the people, from the last two minutes of The Matrix (He flew in full sight of hundreds of witnesses in that scene, and flew several times in this scene, yet we got zero in the way of reaction shots from ordinary people.)
• Morpheus's fall from grace: The man was hailed as a great prophet in The Matrix; now, he's a dangerously deluded lunatic. Huh?
• And the topper: This movie deconstructed the major concepts of the last movie; Neo's not the One, he's just the Most Recent One. Being the One doesn't mean you rescue humanity, it means that you have a chance to rescue humanity. Even that's not real, because doing so only preserves the status quo. The Oracle isn't so much an oracle as she is a manipulator. The near-destruction of the Nebuchadnezzar at the end of The Matrix didn't have to happen, because, apparently, you can move around in the real world while you're transmitting to the Matrix. And killing Agent Smith only made him more powerful.

On the Plus Side

I did, however, like that Hugo Weaving once again stole the show. I liked the Ghost Twins. I liked Persephone—partly because I knew beforehand what she was—but I think that Monica Bellucci was criminally under-utilized. I liked the concept of the back doors (and how they appeared), but I didn't like the whole Keymaster subplot, partly because he was written out of the script at the exact moment that his usefulness ended. I liked that Neo became a figure of worship because of what he was capable of doing in the Matrix—and I especially liked that it made me feel sorry for him, because all of these people had come to trust that he was capable of protecting their loved ones, those still in the Matrix, from harm. Weight of the world. And despite not liking the fact that the fight scenes never really meant anything, they were fun to watch. The fight choreography itself was, again, stupendous.

But what I really liked was the fact that the scriptwriters figured out how to take Neo—who is now, let's face it, Superman—out of the equation, and in a believable way. The backdoors made for an interesting way to get characters from place to place in a hurry, but they were more useful as a way of putting Neo too far away to bring his superpowers to bear. In other words, a fight between Morpheus and an Agent could still give Morpheus a chance to shine, because Neo wasn't there to just bail him out with a wave of his hand.

Which brings me to how I equate The Matrix Reloaded to the roleplaying experience.

Check!

As a gamer who has GMed countless games in systems that aren't always built for perfect balance between characters, I've seen optimized characters—not min-maxed, just optimized—totally ruin the enjoyment of all the other players at the table. Through no real fault of the player (much of the time), he's created a character who just can't lose. And when a group's mantra is "Don't Split the Party!" it can be hard to neutralize that one character so that the others have a chance to shine.

Gamemasters frequently turn to artificial methods of putting such characters in check: drugs, poisons, diseases, curses, romantic trysts, or whatever else seems like it might keep the super-character from running the show yet again. Unfortunately, any one of these tactics really only works once. Then the player learns his lesson and either avoids the character eating or drinking anything he didn't prepare himself, or tailors his character's abilities to let him shrug off the effects, or simply chooses to live an ascetic lifestyle so that he has no exploitable weaknesses. And forget about telling the player that his character has decided to go off alone somewhere. You'll spend more time arguing with him about the likelihood of that than you will actually playing out the events that occur when he's conveniently out of the way.

So the trick is to get the player to volunteer his character to be elsewhere when the action starts. Ironically, given The Matrix Reloaded's underlying theme of free will, you can do this by presenting the entire group with equally attractive options.

Checkmate!

Roleplaying games utilize a dual conceit that the most important stuff going on in the campaign world happens somewhere near the heroes, and that it happens in convenient intervals. This makes sure that the heroes are involved in the events that shape the campaign, and that they aren't as overwhelmed in the game as they so frequently are in real life. There's time to rest. There's time to plan.

But you, as the GM, can set aside that conceit when you want the heroes to split up, which they usually don't want to do. You have to give them really good reasons. Computer games do this all the time: It's their own particular conceit that explains why, in a first-person shooter, all of your buddies aren't along to help you. When there's a building burning down, for example, a computer game tells you, via a cut-scene, that you've decided to go in and rescue the people trapped inside. But it assumes that the rest of the firefighters are outside, putting out the fire itself. Both things have to happen for the mission to be a success. It's just that you can't be in two places at once when you're playing the game by yourself, so the game designers decide which is going to be more fun for you.

In RPGs, on the other hand, you've got multiple players sitting around the table, so their characters can be in several places at once. While half of the group picks up the fire hoses and start putting out the flames, the other half of the group can run inside the blazing building to save the trapped orphans. The objective of the scenario can depend on both groups being successful: The orphans will die if they aren't rescued, while people in nearby buildings will die if the fire isn't contained as well. Guaranteed, the players will decide to split their efforts according to their characters' skills and abilities.

The designer can also apply this kind of logic to opposition scenarios, much like The Matrix Reloaded did with the power station assault. One "team" has to go do something in Location A, but they won't be able to do so because something there is an insurmountable obstacle. However, the obstacle can be removed by doing something at Location B, so another team goes there. While Location B is the main control, there's an auxiliary at Location C, so another team has to go there.

Now the party is split, of their own free will, by the necessities of the plan. And you, as the GM, can simply move the challenges around based on what teams they choose. Location A gets the handful of technicians because the non-combat heroes are going there. Location B gets the guards because the fighter types are going there. And Location C gets the big nasty because the supercompetent character is going there.

The beauty of this sort of setup is that it's easy to reassign those challenges if, for example, you really want the non-combat heroes to deal with the big nasty without the supercompetent character's help. The supercompetent character still gets his hands full with the guards, while the fighter types get to overpower the technicians.

It's All in the Timing

The trick, of course, is to put the locations so far apart—and the individual goals so vital—that the heroes can't simply drop what they're doing and band together. The players will know what's going on because they're right there at the same table, listening to the situation unfold. There will be a lot of tension caused by the fact that they can't intervene as much as they'd really like to.

This might sound daunting, though. After all, how do you deal with three groups—or even just two—in different locations at the same time, without some players effectively sitting on their hands waiting for their turn to play? How do you prevent the players from knowing exactly how other situations turn out before they find out if their own efforts are going to prove to be relevant?

Kudos to you as a GM if you already know the answer. But for those of you who don't, it's really simple. In fact, you probably already do it, without knowing it: Run the individual situations concurrently. Have each combat begin at the same time (even if they're actually a minute or two apart, or they're not actually combats) and progress through the rounds as though everyone were all in the same room. It's really just a variation of "same room" fighting. Tell each player what his character is facing and describe the situation. The big difference is that the map is different for each character.

GM: "Bob, you're in the old warehouse, just about to open the safe, when the lights go on, and the safe alarm goes active again. Across the warehouse, the security guards who were messing with the breaker switch can now see you quite clearly. What do you do?"

Bob: "I dive for cover and get out my cell phone. I'm calling-"

GM: "Don't tell me yet—you've done all you can do this round, so we'll get back to you. Mary and Kyle: You're in the sewer, by the main junction box, and the panel just went live again for some reason. Even the electrical workers look confused for a second. What do you do?"

Mary: "I gesture with my gun for them to put their hands over their heads again, and I tell Kyle to call Stephanie, to see if she knows what happened."

GM: "Stephanie, the big guy in the shiny green suit, after he knocked you out of the chair, has switched on the power to Grid 29 again. Now he's looking at you and smirking. What do you do?"

Stephanie: "I'm running! This is the same guy who almost killed Kyle! Why couldn't this guy have been in the warehouse with Bob? Is there any place to hide while I call Bob for help?"

GM: "There are several darkened offices back along the corridor you came through to get to the control room. Are you going to pick up your satchel of grenades on the way out? If so, doing so will cost you a move action in the first round. Oh, and by the way, your cell phone just started ringing."

So each team's actions affect either the next team's actions or the overall success of the mission, if not both. Everything is happening at the same time, so the players can't count on knowing whether they'll be able to succeed or not, and they're far enough away from one another that they have to face their individual challenges separately, without the aid of the character (or characters) who can do anything.

Of course, you have to plan for a way for the other characters to survive without the supercompetent character. Don't use this sort of scenario to split the characters up so you can kill off the weaker ones. Give them a challenge, and thus, a thrill.

Your Turn

What did you think of The Matrix Reloaded and JD's observations? Let us know in the Opinions section of our discussion boards.