Tumgik
#modern warfare 2019
s-oaps · 16 days
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
CAPTAIN SAYS YEET
3K notes · View notes
orbuz228 · 1 month
Text
Tumblr media
913 notes · View notes
mockerycrow · 2 months
Note
are you good at character analysis? I wanna know what your analysis would be for Gaz, I’m trying to figure out his story since he’s my favorite out of TF 141
KYLE GAZ GARRICK
BASIC OVERVIEW — BIOGRAPHICAL INFORMATION
Kyle “Gaz” Garrick is a British Black man who enlisted into the British Army around 2008 or 2014 (unfortunately, the developers have inconsistencies). His operator biography states 2008 while the official activision website in a blog post about MW2019 states 2014, however it does make sense for him to enlist in 2008. He would have been at least sixteen years old which is the minimum age requirement to enlist. I would like to quickly throw in that Gaz is indeed older than Soap, as this is a misconception that I surprisingly see a lot! Gaz’s blood type is B- and he currently ranks as sergeant (which according to the official British Army website, it typically takes at least twelve years in the service, however it implies it also depends on the person’s abilities).
Gaz spent four years in the Queen’s Lancashire Regiment. During these four years going through a multitude of tests and challenges before passing selection for Special Air Service (SAS). The activision blog says during MW2019, it’s his sixth year serving as a sergeant. However, as Gaz had been selected for TF141, I believe their ranks have paused in time. Gaz has mostly spent his time in anti-terrorism in his military career. He’s an expert in demolitions, VIP escorting, weapons tactics, covert surveillance, and target elimination. He’s been awarded multiple medals, and earned his Parachute Wings whilst spending time at Camp Lejeune in the U.S. whilst collaborating with Navy SEALs. Kyle is a master of evasion and deception, being the only candidate in his entire class to escape capture from the facility and evade detection during resistance training. 
When Gaz first meets Cpt. Price, Gaz is currently assigned to an SAS specific counter-terrorism program in the UK who collaborate with the police, which is another misconception that Gaz was a police sergeant at one point (he was not! I believe some people think this because at E3, Gaz was wearing a police baseball cap).
CHARACTER OVERVIEW
Like true to the original Gaz, he is Price’s protege, being his student. Gaz is overall a serious and hardworking man, loyal and unbreaking. He knows when to joke and he knows when to reload. However, Gaz is not perfect and he does lose his cool (we see subtle development with this later down the road). While being loyal, Gaz does not hesitate to question Price’s choices and actions. We see this multiple times during the series, the most prime example being in MW2019 when Price and Gaz are interrogating The Butcher with Yegor. The Butcher taunts Gaz, causing Gaz to lunge and Price to send him off to fetch.. “The package”. The package being, The Butcher’s family. The reboot games, you have choices, so I’ll give the very basic run down. 
You have the option to opt into the interrogation or to opt out of it. If you opt out, Price bursts out of the room with the information (if you go near the door, you hear The Butcher’s family sobbing). If you opt in, you have so many options. At the end of the day, Gaz is mostly silent and follows orders from Price. In the police cruiser scene, Gaz questions Price in the car—he did not expect to be using women and children as bargaining chips and he makes that clear, and this is a big teaching moment between Gaz and Price. We have to remember that Gaz is young and considering everything, inexperienced to an extent. Price makes up for that inexperience, teaching him along the way. During the interrogation scene, Price makes a remark: “We’ve taken the gloves off.” This is because Gaz lashed out. Later in the car, Price says “When you take the gloves off, you get blood on your hands, Kyle. That’s how it works.” after Gaz questions him.
CONCLUSION
Overall, Gaz is a very complex character and I enjoyed watching his development during these games. I’ve seen people claim Gaz is boring or plain, but I genuinely do not believe that to be the case. Gaz, in my opinion, is also the most relatable character. He’s young, ambitious, and determined. He’s charismatic and efficient. I don’t believe a character has to be extremely traumatized, or look very very unique to be a well-crafted character and Gaz is a great example for this. 
Gaz is just a man who enlisted; someone who is smart and well-rounded (as much as an SAS member can be), he’s quick on his feet and he molds into group work fantastically. He’s extremely versatile and is a quick learner—and wants to learn. He has his flaws that make him human. Gaz develops great self control, is level-minded and is able to think for himself. A great student questions their mentor in everything and you see this with Gaz. 
You see Gaz struggle with morality in the series in a sea of characters who kill and do things without a second thought. We see him question things, we see his emotions and his extreme reluctance. We definitely see some development down the road as Gaz becomes more ruthless, but he never quite forgets his humanity in a way, compared to Price where he can easily disconnect humanity (ex. Calling The Butcher’s wife and son “the package/leverage”). 
Along with this, we see him struggle with the rules in place. I also think this is why Gaz and Price’s dynamic is great. There are rules for a reason, and both Price and Gaz know when to break them—but Gaz learns that breaking some rules doesn’t always happen for the most heroic of actions (again, Price’s quote about bloodying your hands after taking the gloves off). Gaz wants to save people and keep the peace, we see this in Piccadilly during the terrorist attacks and the aftermath scene with Price where Gaz lets the Captain know that he and his unit had actionable intel on the terrorist cell who committed the act. Of course, we see later down the road that taking the gloves off removes all limits, not just some of them. We also see a glimpse of Gaz’s conflicting feelings when 141, Farah & Alex, as well as Laswell learn about Hadir and his plans, as well as when Farah’s forces are deemed a terrorist organization.
I think I rambled on a lot about him, hopefully this is understandable! 
Sources: price & gaz activision blog intros (2019), inconsistency in enlistment date, cod fandom wiki, gaz scenes mwi & mwii, official british army website.
446 notes · View notes
minkei · 6 months
Text
Tumblr media
Leyendecker Study of my favorite military man ever 🫶🫶
517 notes · View notes
abedofroses · 7 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Q: Is it soccer or football?
(Source)
590 notes · View notes
elysianvrt · 10 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
drawing meme with farah, gaz, and alex (3 of my fave cod characters) that i didn't find out until later actually happened in real life with claudia and elliot 😭
796 notes · View notes
devils-dares · 6 months
Text
The Anatomy of a Hug
summary: it's the middle of the night and you've been crying. seeking comfort, you knock on his door.
pairings: unspecified male character x gender neutral!reader
warnings: mentions of friends with benefits type relationship, no smut, crying, mentions of not eating or sleeping, only description is reader is shorter than character, hun as a pet name.
wordcount: 819
a/n: wowie, i'm breaking my hiatus! tbh never thought this day would come. this is written with the call of duty fandom in mind, but can go for practically any male character.
-----
“Wha-” he rubs his eyes, trying to scrub the sleep away, “you’re here. Why are you here?”
It’s a fair question. You knocked on his door in the middle of the night, eyes red from crying. He has every reason to close the door and go back to bed. It’s cold.
You shrug, tired bones too exhausted to even think of a reply.
“Hey, now. C’mere, come in,” he says, stepping to the side to let you in, “talk to me. What’s going on?” It’s warm in the house, walls bathed in honey colored lighting from the incandescent bulbs that buzz away when they’ve gone dim. It smells like him, and you can feel his warmth without ever having to touch him.
“What are ya thinkin’?” His voice is deep, gravelly, a sure sign you’d woken him up from a deep sleep.
“Just wanna be held.” You say, voice shaking on the verge of tears. He stands still for a second, hesitating.
“You want me to- to hold you?” It was a fair question. The two of you didn’t have that kind of relationship, moreso two acquaintances who found comfort in each others’ bodies between the sheets.
“I didn’t have anywhere else to go.” You say. He tuts after shutting the door, shifting his weight onto one leg. His arms are folded across his chest, making his frame appear so much bigger than yours, and making you crave his embrace that much more.
“It’s the middle of the night.”
“I’m well aware.” You say, chuckling sadly.
“And you came… here?”
“I can go-”
“No. Don’t leave. Let me hold you, yeah?”
“I don’t wanna be a b-”
“Bother? You’re bothering me by looking like you’ve been crying for hours.”
“Flattery was never your strong suit.” He sighs, crossing the room in three big steps and pulling you into his arms. Your head gets buried in his chest, the scent of him forcing you to settle against him. The weight of his arms is comforting, one wrapped around your waist and one trails up your back to cup the back of your head.
“This is nice, didn’t know you knew how to be soft.”
“Shut up and let me hug you.”
“Okay, sorry.” The two of you fall into an easy silence, nothing but your soft breaths filling the room.
He’s warm, something you always liked about him. He was built like a goddamn furnace, and you were always freezing. It also helped that he was massive, your head just barely reaching his pectoral muscles. Not to mention for how strong he was, he was holding you surprisingly tender.
He held you up. His one arm around your waist held you up without struggle. Your bones and muscles appreciated him, even though you were mentally unable to share your thanks with him. God, he just made you melt like hot butter in his arms. He hated physical affection, never going much further than cuddling during aftercare, but this, it felt like he needed it a little bit too.
“When was the last time you ate, hun?”
You’re not sure what it is about him, an otherwise stoic man breaking his walls down to hold you in a vulnerable moment, or the fact that he felt like he actually wanted to be there. You’re not sure what it was, but almost immediately after the pet name left his lips, you let out a sob, followed by an onslaught of tears that did nothing but soak his shirt and obscure your vision. He freezes against you, muscles tensing where they hold you, but he thaws eventually.
“‘m so tired.”
“I know, let me take care of you for tonight. Don’t worry.” It’s effortless, really, the way he softens his voice and holds your entire weight in his arms, letting you wet his shirt with your tears without saying a word. It feels like you cry for ages, sobbing loudly until you have no tears left and your head is pounding from the onslaught of emotions. It’s silent for a while, you don’t know how long you spent in his arms.
“Sorry.”
“What for?”
“Waking you for that.”
“I’d wake for you if you got a damn papercut, now, when was the last time you ate?”
“What did you say?” He looks at you after you ask.
“I’m saying that if you knocked on my door because you couldn’t sleep at night, I’d pick you up and throw you in my bed to make sure you slept, because lord knows you have a shit sleep schedule. Lord also knows you never eat on time or properly, so I’ll ask you once more, when was the last time you ate?”
“I don’t… I don’t remember.” He tuts again, dropping his arm from around your waist to a little lower, and scoops you up in his arms.
“Come now, let’s get you something to eat.”
263 notes · View notes
fatal-iistic · 9 months
Text
the lioness' den
Tumblr media
Summary: From request, you're a reckless fool. No one would foresee that surrogate soldier to Urzikstan's Freedom Fighters would capture their Commander's affections.
Pairings: Farah Karim x Reader (written for female but could be perceived as GN)
Warnings: Blood, gore, war, Farah Karim is actually a soft woman, soft, fluff
Word Count: 1.7k
You’re alive.
But you might as well be dead.
There’s no way Farah is going to forgive me for this.
Strict orders. Commander Karim didn’t take insubordination lightly – she might not be a tyrant like Barkov or the al-Qatala regime, but she demanded order and respect. And you are notorious for pushing those limits. It’s a wonder that, after three years of fighting alongside Farah and her Freedom Fighters, you haven’t been amiably dismissed.
You are, after all, a surrogate to her cause.
Military-trained and already involved in the conflicts embedded deep within Urzikstan, you’d been injured in Sakhra when al-Qatala laid siege to the US Embassy, left for dead somewhere in the streets. US intel had labeled you KIA. The people of Urzikstan had taken you in and nursed your wounds for nearly two weeks before you were well enough to operate on your own. 
Things were murky with the Embassy fallen. Getting news back to the States of your proof of life became complicated. You were forced to remain living amongst the citizens of the Republic of Adel, but what had been an inconvenience became a change in your life. 
Al’umu, Mother, the matriarch of the family that fostered you, had told you about the struggles of Urzikstan, the things that didn’t make the media. You walked those streets after al-Qatala and the NATO armies had lain waste to them, seeing the devastation these people lived on a daily. Children playing ball amongst debris. Storekeepers still stayed afloat even after half of their front had been blown to shreds by bullet holes. 
Life went on – what else could they do? 
You'd met Commander Karim in Sakhra. She was the catalyst of the Freedom Fighters, their fearless leader. Al’umu introduced you fervently, even though you’d insisted there was no point in you wasting the commander's time. Yet despite that notion, Farah thanked you for being here to fight, even though it was her people you were indebted to at the set of the sun. You joined her Freedom Fighters – no questions asked. Sent messages to your family back home but remained in Adel.
It's a strange case – an 'outsider' shouldering the ranks of Urzikstan's rebels. You hadn't been the only one to do so – but you'd become the most remarkable considering the proximity you'd gained with the Commander. 
You’d become a military asset but somehow garnered favor with the commander. While soliciting eye rolls and scoffs from Farah, your dry humor and quick wit must’ve done measures to charm her. Your affections grew bolder, affections that Farah kept at arm's length but never entirely denied. You continued to spin that web, and even Urzikstan’s fearless commander couldn’t free herself from it.
Fingers wrap around your side, hugging blood-stained fabric over the wound on your side. You’d taken a bullet into the side, though it seemed superficial. You hadn’t spent much time assessing the damage thoroughly, just enough to declare that no metal was lodged into your abdomen. Hamza helps you out of the truck, assisting you towards the outpost.
Your eyes scan tentatively for Farah. A gut feeling that you were about to receive the reprimand of a lifetime – and you’d passed elite selection for the USMC.
“Where are they?” You can hear Farah’s voice sharply over the hustle of the outpost. Your eyes rivet upwards to see her pushing past her soldiers, eyes locked onto you like a honing system.
Lips curl into a failing smile. “Farah,” you murmur. 
Her fingers latch to the fabric of your shirt, near the collarbones, hoisting you upright and out of Hamza’s hold. You catch a gasp in your throat, growling slightly as the pain sends shockwaves through your frame.
“What the hell happened?” she demands. Dark amber eyes flash. She is a lioness. Teeth bared. Hackles raised.
You'd always feared her like one would a wild predator. Much of your existence was holding a lion by the tail with Farah. She could easily swoop and swipe, depleting your existence if she pleased. Yet most days, she serviced you with mercy (you joked about mercy, when others made indiscreet whispers about you two). 
Despite your willingness to push boundaries – both off and on the battlefield. 
“Farah, Farah,” you grimace. Your lungs hitch against the edges of your ribs as she procures you. Pain sizzles up your spine, igniting the receptors of your cranium as you wheeze. “I’m alive. But you’re pushing my luck.”
An expression of panicked horror flickers from her face before her palms release the vice grip on your shirt. You stumble, Hamza lunging swiftly to stabilize you. Farah also reaches, recognizing her plight only a second too late. She cradles her arms under your shoulders as you fall into her chest.
"Easy," you exhale. Composing your bearings, you rock back onto your heels and straighten your torso. Farah's arms remain circled close to you, while Hamza's hands hover near your shoulders. You shift a bit, tossing your companions a half-lucid, toothy grin. "See?"
Skepticism permeates the air. Farah grips your arm, directing you to a place to sit on a nearby crate. You take a seat, wincing as the wound along your side ripples while you maneuver. Teeth raze against the inner flesh of your cheek. You throw your head back with an agonized shutter.
She grabs the bloodied hem of your shirt, hiking the fabric up to expose the seeping wound at your side. It had been a superficial wound, taking more flesh and soft tissue than anything of importance. The mere issue that remained, though, was the enormity the 5.56 caliber rounds used by al-Qatala and how they shredded flesh. The measly bandage applied hours ago is nothing but a crimson-stained rag tied to your side.
Peeling the previous bandage away, you bite into your lip as the movement sends prickles of pain through your system. You dig fingernails into your palms until your knuckles are stark white and little bruises form under the crescents of your nails. Farah discards the rag, reaching for a clean towel and dousing it with a clear substance – some form of disinfecting alcohol, you presume (you weren't a medic).
“How did you get injured?" Farah demands with controlled sternness. She keeps her tone tame, both for your humility and hers. "You weren’t supposed to be near the combat."
“Things didn’t go as planned,” you defend. Jaw locks. You gaze up with a bolster of defiance seeping through your veins.
She curses in Arabic. Words you recognize, words you don't. Without forewarning, she holds the damp towel to your wound. You squirm, choking on your tongue to stifle your whimper. 
"Fucking Christ, Farah," you growl. You slam a fist into the crate. The ghost of tears burning the edges of your eyes. "Warn me."
She stares up with the smug playfulness of a lion cub. Damn proud of how savage she could be. You'd really asked for it, hadn't you? Playing too close to the enclosure of a deadly predator? Toying the faint lines of goodwill and whatever blossomed between you two. 
Like storing C4 next to a faulty electrical outlet. 
"If you had listened to me, to my orders, you wouldn't be injured," she remarks frigidly. The ice almost penetrates through your chest, humiliation melting into the jagged cracks of your ribs. 
You blink, chin dropping as you escape from her scrutiny. "Ask Hamza or Amir or anyone. Things went to shit," you reply surely, clearing your throat before looking back at her. "You know I can't stand by and let people die."
"My soldiers know the risks," Farah counters. "Your role was essential to–"
"I am your soldier too," you interject. 
A stunned silence wedges its way in between you two. Air thick with tension that could be serrated by a knife. 
"What?" Farah utters.
"Don't speak to me like I'm an external source," you argue, limbs taut. "You've said it yourself then why do you treat me like I'm just an add-on? Like I'm not truly in this cause."
"I-I…"
"Am I a Freedom Fighter, or just some ex-soldier you picked up out of sympathy? Tell me the truth on what you see in me, Farah."
"Don't be ridiculous," she rebukes. You can see her chew on the inside of her mouth thoughtfully, eyebrows furrowing as she declares, "You are a Freedom Fighter."
You wilt a bit. Reassured. She presses the clean gauze into your wound, while one arm reaches to caress your jaw for a moment gently. Your breath hinges in your chest as her fingers dance away, back to your side. She makes quick work of patching the wound back up, covering it with your bloody shirt.
"If I give you orders to stay away from combat, you better pay heed to them," she states haughtily, gazing back with fiery eyes, like a lioness. She lingers close to your orbit, fingers absent-mindedly playing with the bottom buttons of your shirt. In the stillness of the moment, you can feel the exhalation of her lungs brush against your cheeks.
You give her a wry smile, smirking. “You said it yourself,” you remark, “we don’t follow logic. We follow what works.”
She tilts her forehead against yours, nose brushing against your own. A coarse chuckle rattles in her chest as she caresses the side of your face.
“Satakun mwti, (You will be the death of me)” Farah breathes. 
You smile flippantly. “I don’t know what the hell that means,” you croak. 
Her eyes dance to yours. The specter of a smile teases the edges of her lips as she leans back an inch. Tilting her head, she takes the sight of you in before pressing a gentle kiss along your sweat-salted forehead.
“It’s nothing in particular,” she hums. “Just know that ‘uhibuk (I love you).”
You grin, teeth flashing as you edge closer to brush your own lips to hers. You danced a line fine with the queen of the jungle within your grasp, but you were unafraid. You’d never tame her wildness and valiance, but you could live alongside it without fearing for your life. That was all you’d ask for.
“I know that one,” you chuckle proudly. “I love you, too.”
286 notes · View notes
flaming-dumpster · 1 year
Text
Discord made me do it
Tumblr media
Bonus:
Tumblr media
410 notes · View notes
deadunderorbit · 11 months
Text
WHAT’S UP DANGER!
304 notes · View notes
vvh1sk3y · 2 years
Note
Helloo, can I ask about soap and ghost with s/o who is short (I’m only 4’11 🥲)
yes yes!! these are on the short side i apologize.
character(s): simon “ghost” riley, john "soap" mactavish, gen!reader
warning(s): none
simon "ghost" riley
as we know, simon is a large man. standing at about 6’4 he pretty much towers above quite a few people, but he especially loves how much bigger he is than you.
he purposely put things up too high for you to reach so he can watch you have to climb or get a chair to stand on. (he thinks it's funny and adorable)
he likes being the little spoon, even if he's a giant compared to you
says “sorry, i can’t hear you from down there” just to piss you off.
simon will put you on his shoulders and walk around the house with you (you've hit your head more than once on the ceiling and the top of doorways)
john "soap" mactavish
john will non stop tease you about your height and do things just to mess with you
he’ll put something up high and act all surprised when you can’t reach it
likes to lift you up to grab things instead if you grabbing a chair or climbing things
he’ll sit you up on your kitchen counters so you’re eye level with him, he finds it cute for some reason.
532 notes · View notes
mockerycrow · 10 months
Note
16&18 with Farah please🙏 I need more Farah content🥹
SMUT PROMPTS: Farah Karim Drabble; “Waking Them Up With Oral” + “Taking Care Of Them Afterwards” (Fem!Reader) - NSFW UNDER THE CUT
Tumblr media
Reminder prior consent is implied for this prompt! Also, I love women. I think you can tell with how I wrote this..
God, you couldn’t help yourself—not when she was laying right there in your bed, looking as beautiful as she always does. You’re greedy when it comes to her, and she never minded it—Farah loved it, how needy you were for her; her taste, her voice, her touch.. Your head felt fuzzy as you stuffed your face into her cunt, her legs over your shoulders. You own burning arousal was deep in your gut, but all you could focus on was the wetness of Farah’s pussy. She lays there peacefully as you greedily drag your tongue between her folds, fully intending to drag at least one orgasm out of her, so you could lick it all up.
Farah mumbled in her sleep as your hand gripped her hips, pulling her pussy right against your face. You sucked on her clit and pulled away a couple of times, a loud and wet ‘pop!’ filling the air every time. Your hand comes around and spreads her folds, you nearly drooling at the sight of her clenching hole—even in her sleep, she enjoys your tongue. You managed to pull her through an orgasm as Farah woke up—she gasped and her thighs shut around your head, causing you to whine as you pressed your face into her pussy. You could die right here and now, and you’d be happy.
Farah shudders, a croaky “fuck..” leaving her lips. You let her ride out her orgasm and her high, and when she’s ready, her thighs let go of your head. You slowly sit up and rub her thighs and hips, gently squeezing to bring her back to reality. Your mouth is slick with her wetness, a grin on your lips. Farah sleepily looks at you, a quiet laugh leaving her as she throws an arm over her face. “Tasted so good, as always.” You murmur, laying down beside her. Farah mutters something incoherent as he turns to you and wraps an arm around your torso, intertwining your legs, and laying half on you—your fingers gently drawing patterns on the skin of her bare back, lulling her right back to sleep with a pleasant hum between her thighs.
276 notes · View notes
minkei · 9 months
Text
Tumblr media
i‘ve been watching COD walkthroughs and when i saw gaz‘ outfit in the amsterdam mission, i just GASPED bcs i couldn’t believe it and took matters into my own hand
it’s not too different from the original outfit but i altered it slightly to make it more fashionable while still keeping a tactical vibe to it
526 notes · View notes
abedofroses · 5 months
Text
Warren Kole's 2nd Livestream
Chad Michael Collins pops in to say "hi" to Warren 🥰
Credit to: maplewhisk
(Source)
92 notes · View notes
iamcalmdammit · 2 years
Text
High-risk || [John Price x f!reader]
Note: Just a little drabble because of reasons.
Tumblr media
"How did you find out?"
John inhaled and exhaled slowly as he thought about how to answer this question without upsetting you. He had just found out your pregnancy turned into a high-risk one due to an infection, and now he was more worried than he had ever been on the field. As he watched you slip into a hoodie, he realized that maybe honesty was the best approach now. After all, he had made a promise around the time your relationship turned serious enough to move in together–there would be no secrets between you.
"Kate knows you're pregnant and she promised to keep an eye on you while I was on that mission," he admitted as he stepped closer to cup your face with his hands. "You didn't think I would leave you here without making sure I found out if anything happened, did you?"
"I'd rather not think about that at all. I mean, isn't worrying about me a distraction you don't need?" Letting out a short laugh, he leaned down to kiss your forehead. "Don't laugh at me, I'm a nervous wreck every time you leave. I know you love your job but sometimes I wish you were doing something less risky."
Well, this was both adorable and unfortunate. It was nice to know he had someone at home who cared about him, someone he could return to, but it's not like you worrying was enough to make him quit his job. But maybe having a child would one day change his mind. Maybe after his daughter was born, he would take a look at her and that would do the trick. There would be a tiny little human in need of a father and probably he wouldn't be able to ignore that.
"Damn it," he muttered under his breath.
You gave him a questioning look since you had no idea what he had been thinking about just now. But he wasn't about to give you the satisfaction of knowing his daughter had him wrapped around her finger before even being born.
774 notes · View notes
hollytanaka · 4 months
Text
More recently, the teams behind Call of Duty have attempted to give more shade and nuance to their depictions of the Middle East. The Modern Warfare reboot centers on an Arab woman named Farah Karim, one of several playable protagonists. “It’s rare to find a memorable brown protagonist,” Hussain said when discussing the history of video games. But Farah is certainly memorable—she survives a chemical attack in the opening act and leads her home country’s freedom fighters [...]. But there’s one problem: Farah is from an entirely made-up Middle Eastern country called Urzisktan. All the other main characters have their roots in real places (Price is from the United Kingdom, Alex is an American), yet she is from a fictitious Middle Eastern place ravaged by war, divided into people who engage in terrorist acts and those who don’t. The entire region is flattened into homogeneity as a result, and it’s all too common in these types of games. “We jokingly call it ‘Arabistan,’” game developer and consultant Rami Ismail said via video call. “A game designer once came up with that term…I think a lot of us use [it]. Some people say it’s a nice thing, but I don’t really see it that way. It just means that we’re literally interchangeable, our cultures are interchangeable.” Ismail continued, “From where I’m sitting it’s like, ‘yes, there’s a country in the Middle East, it needs to be bombed.’ That’s not an improvement to me, at least have the decency of picking a place and then doing it. But by homogenizing it, they can effectively go, ‘no, no, we don’t mean any of the real people. We mean the fictional Arabs that by default are terrorists.’” [...] “It’s perpetuating the idea that there is a singular, Middle Eastern country,” Shammas said during our chat. ”It actually ties in very strongly [to current events] because we’re seeing people say, ‘Oh, well, just take the Palestinians into Egypt, take the Palestinians into Jordan.’ These are different people with different Arabic languages…Call of Duty reflects the fact that we treat these cultures as totally swappable and why people don’t care about the displacement of Palestinian indigenous people specifically.” Shammas returned to that concept later, when I brought up the image circulating social media of an alleged Israeli soldier wearing a face covering similar to Ghost from Call of Duty. “Stateless people, unnamed country—Palestine might as well be anywhere else,” she explained. “It helps with the subtle colonialist narrative that the space is empty, barren, and owned by babbling savages that you can now enter and make something of.” [...] But for many, reckoning with the legacy of military games seems nigh impossible. “There is no value in any military game, and honestly, people should find better games to play,” journalist Saniya Ahmed said in an email. “No cultural representation can come from Call of Duty, nor should it.” Shammas brought up God of War 2018 as an example of a franchise taking its core concept and turning it on its head, questioning protagonist Kratos’ legacy and relationship to violence. Can Call of Duty do something like that? “No. I don’t think it can,” she said. Ismail agreed. “The problem isn’t necessarily that we shouldn’t have Call of Duty games or that Call of Duty should be different from what it is,” he said. “Changing that would require a level of courage and a level of insight at the corporate level that just isn’t possible within our system of making games…Call of Duty is a roller-coaster built on the American consciousness of war.”
– Alyssa Mercante, "We Have To Talk (Again) About How War Games Depict The Middle East," KOTAKU (December 7, 2023).
51 notes · View notes