‘Grass isn’t against the law!’
– Ricardo Cortés, It's just a plant, 2005.
Played during the Backloggd’s Game of the Week (Mar. 28 – Apr. 3, 2023).
The 1990s saw a shift in the Christian Right's rhetoric towards LGBT communities. In previous decades, most arguments focused on the alleged pathological deviance of these groups, associating homosexuality with paedophilia and mental illness. At the same time, this rhetorical framework made it possible to assert the superiority of Christian values, threatened by a new Sodom and Gomorrah. A clear illustration of the ideological shift can be seen in the vote on Amendment 2 to the Colorado Constitution (1992) and its subsequent ruling of unconstitutionality by the Supreme Court (Romer v. Evans, 1996). The text sought to prohibit any law or decision protecting minorities in the State on the grounds of sexual orientation: it was passed by popular initiative before being struck down by both the Colorado Supreme Court and the Federal Court. The dissenting opinions in these rulings stressed that Amendment 2 should not be an issue, as it did not seek to deny rights to homosexuals, but only to prevent any form of affirmative action.
The American conservative right's new means of action
This ideological stance reflects a malaise that has plagued America since the Reagan presidency: since the civil rights movements, decisions to protect vulnerable groups have been seen as preferential treatment that disadvantages white middle-class Americans – the electoral backbone of conservatives. The Amendment 2 campaign was largely led by Colorado for Family Values, co-founded by Tony Marco. An ex-gay, Marco has largely steered the campaign away from traditional arguments in favour of a legalistic and misleading sociological approach. He repeatedly states that "gays are no 'minority'; gay militants constitute a rich, powerful special interest. And, to coin a phrase, enough money makes anyone a 'majority’" [1]. Didi Herman explains that this line of argument has been adopted by conservative movements that have sought to regain respectability by avoiding overtly religious discourse; certainly the Christian Right was largely convinced of the immorality and sinfulness of homosexuals, but publicly it had to be reasonable and fight on a more liberal ground, that of rights and law. [2]
This less explicitly extremist discourse finds institutional expression in the 'war on drugs', initiated by the creation of the Drug Enforcement Administration in 1973. Since the Reagan presidency, and especially during the Bush administration, the budget for these actions has increased from $5 million to over $600 million. [3] This 'war on drugs' has been characterised by, among other things, the militarisation of borders, political interference in South American countries, and an increase in abusive arrests, particularly of racial minorities. Most of the literature on the social consequences of the 'war on drugs' focuses, for understandable reasons, on its impact on ethnic minorities, and much research remains to be done on the links between LGBT communities, the AIDS epidemic and 'war on drugs' policies. However, recent studies show how it is being used as a moral panic to criminalise LGBT people who are more vulnerable and at risk of using these substances. [4]
Very explicit and simplistic LGBT references
It is in this very broad social context that Foobar versus the DEA must be understood. Like other LGBT games of the period – Caper in the Castro (1989), a point-n-click game featuring a lesbian detective, comes to mind – Foobar versus the DEA reuses relatively familiar gameplay elements, in this case the shoot'em up formula inspired by Xevious (1983). From a technical point of view, the game showcases the new capabilities of Mac machines, but remains relatively behind the rest of video game production. The player assumes the role of Foobar, whose outfit is largely inspired by comic book superheroes, on a quest to find his boyfriend Ned, who has been unjustly arrested by the DEA. To free him, Foobar must take on the entire American penal system, backed by capitalist industry, the media and a Big Brother-like super-computer.
The title is divided into four levels, each featuring one of the stakeholders in this 'war on drugs'. The game does not conceal its LGBT references or its disdain for authority, as the various power-ups make no attempt at subtlety: the rainbow flag adds one life to the counter, and the American flag-draped condom – which actually looks a lot like a missile – serves as a shield. The pointer that marks the drop point of the bombs is, incidentally, a pink triangle, the symbol of the gay community. There is a playful irreverence in these elements, but the militaristic aspect of the title seems a little odd. Not that there should be no violence against state institutions and their repressive policies, but Foobar versus the DEA features mostly traditional military weapons in what is technically an air raid. This can be seen as an ironic reversal of American practices, but there is a lack of purposefulness in the process, to the point where one might suspect an internalisation of American methods.
Archaic in its design, modern in its representation
For the rest, Foobar versus the DEA is a mediocre title. The airship's manoeuvrability is rather poor, which makes dodging projectiles frustrating, especially as the hitboxes seem very permissive. The missiles, which fly horizontally across the screen, are probably the worst feature, as they force the player to stay in the middle of the screen, reducing the space available for manoeuvring. The game is generally devoid of any real gameplay ambitions, as it is so much a rehash of the conventions of the time, which were already archaic in 1996. The lack of variety in the enemies and their erratic movements make every death particularly tedious, as does the very slow scrolling, which adds to the impression of interminable levels. Admittedly queer-coded for its time, the game does not manage to instil its themes beyond a few visual elements and synopsis statements.
This is a shame, because Foobar versus the DEA, shared as a freeware, represents the versatility of the LGBT community in the midst of the great social, economic and health crisis it experienced in the United States during the 1980s and 1990s. The game confronts the mainstream representations that still nourished that era; similar to the New Queer Cinema, led by a new generation of filmmakers and characterised by a very offensive rhetoric against the patriarchal and religious order, Foobar versus the DEA does not hesitate to attack industry giants, media and state institutions. Although it struggles to be a convincing experiment from a purely technical standpoint, it is an important record in the cultural history of the LGBT community.
__________
[1] Tony Marco, Shaky Foundation: Twelve 'Big Lies' The 'Gay Rights' Movement is Built on, 1993, quoted in Didi Herman, '(Il)legitimate Minorities: The American Christian Right's Anti-Gay-Rights Discourse', in Journal of Law and Society, vol. 23, no. 3, p. 350.
[2] Didi Herman, op. cit.
[3] Yulia Vorobyeva, ‘Illegal Drugs as a National Security Threat: Securitization of Drugs in the U.S. Official Discourse’, in Bruce M. Bagley, Jonathan D. Rosen (ed.), Trafficking, Organized Crime, and Violence in the Americas Today, University of Florida Press, Gainesville, 2015, p. 50.
[4] Grace Ramsey, ‘How the War on Drugs Harms the LGBTQIA+ Community’, in Drug Policy Alliance, 22nd June 2018, consulted on 30 March 2023.
– Ricardo Cortés, It's just a plant, 2005.
Played during the Backloggd’s Game of the Week (Mar. 28 – Apr. 3, 2023).
The 1990s saw a shift in the Christian Right's rhetoric towards LGBT communities. In previous decades, most arguments focused on the alleged pathological deviance of these groups, associating homosexuality with paedophilia and mental illness. At the same time, this rhetorical framework made it possible to assert the superiority of Christian values, threatened by a new Sodom and Gomorrah. A clear illustration of the ideological shift can be seen in the vote on Amendment 2 to the Colorado Constitution (1992) and its subsequent ruling of unconstitutionality by the Supreme Court (Romer v. Evans, 1996). The text sought to prohibit any law or decision protecting minorities in the State on the grounds of sexual orientation: it was passed by popular initiative before being struck down by both the Colorado Supreme Court and the Federal Court. The dissenting opinions in these rulings stressed that Amendment 2 should not be an issue, as it did not seek to deny rights to homosexuals, but only to prevent any form of affirmative action.
The American conservative right's new means of action
This ideological stance reflects a malaise that has plagued America since the Reagan presidency: since the civil rights movements, decisions to protect vulnerable groups have been seen as preferential treatment that disadvantages white middle-class Americans – the electoral backbone of conservatives. The Amendment 2 campaign was largely led by Colorado for Family Values, co-founded by Tony Marco. An ex-gay, Marco has largely steered the campaign away from traditional arguments in favour of a legalistic and misleading sociological approach. He repeatedly states that "gays are no 'minority'; gay militants constitute a rich, powerful special interest. And, to coin a phrase, enough money makes anyone a 'majority’" [1]. Didi Herman explains that this line of argument has been adopted by conservative movements that have sought to regain respectability by avoiding overtly religious discourse; certainly the Christian Right was largely convinced of the immorality and sinfulness of homosexuals, but publicly it had to be reasonable and fight on a more liberal ground, that of rights and law. [2]
This less explicitly extremist discourse finds institutional expression in the 'war on drugs', initiated by the creation of the Drug Enforcement Administration in 1973. Since the Reagan presidency, and especially during the Bush administration, the budget for these actions has increased from $5 million to over $600 million. [3] This 'war on drugs' has been characterised by, among other things, the militarisation of borders, political interference in South American countries, and an increase in abusive arrests, particularly of racial minorities. Most of the literature on the social consequences of the 'war on drugs' focuses, for understandable reasons, on its impact on ethnic minorities, and much research remains to be done on the links between LGBT communities, the AIDS epidemic and 'war on drugs' policies. However, recent studies show how it is being used as a moral panic to criminalise LGBT people who are more vulnerable and at risk of using these substances. [4]
Very explicit and simplistic LGBT references
It is in this very broad social context that Foobar versus the DEA must be understood. Like other LGBT games of the period – Caper in the Castro (1989), a point-n-click game featuring a lesbian detective, comes to mind – Foobar versus the DEA reuses relatively familiar gameplay elements, in this case the shoot'em up formula inspired by Xevious (1983). From a technical point of view, the game showcases the new capabilities of Mac machines, but remains relatively behind the rest of video game production. The player assumes the role of Foobar, whose outfit is largely inspired by comic book superheroes, on a quest to find his boyfriend Ned, who has been unjustly arrested by the DEA. To free him, Foobar must take on the entire American penal system, backed by capitalist industry, the media and a Big Brother-like super-computer.
The title is divided into four levels, each featuring one of the stakeholders in this 'war on drugs'. The game does not conceal its LGBT references or its disdain for authority, as the various power-ups make no attempt at subtlety: the rainbow flag adds one life to the counter, and the American flag-draped condom – which actually looks a lot like a missile – serves as a shield. The pointer that marks the drop point of the bombs is, incidentally, a pink triangle, the symbol of the gay community. There is a playful irreverence in these elements, but the militaristic aspect of the title seems a little odd. Not that there should be no violence against state institutions and their repressive policies, but Foobar versus the DEA features mostly traditional military weapons in what is technically an air raid. This can be seen as an ironic reversal of American practices, but there is a lack of purposefulness in the process, to the point where one might suspect an internalisation of American methods.
Archaic in its design, modern in its representation
For the rest, Foobar versus the DEA is a mediocre title. The airship's manoeuvrability is rather poor, which makes dodging projectiles frustrating, especially as the hitboxes seem very permissive. The missiles, which fly horizontally across the screen, are probably the worst feature, as they force the player to stay in the middle of the screen, reducing the space available for manoeuvring. The game is generally devoid of any real gameplay ambitions, as it is so much a rehash of the conventions of the time, which were already archaic in 1996. The lack of variety in the enemies and their erratic movements make every death particularly tedious, as does the very slow scrolling, which adds to the impression of interminable levels. Admittedly queer-coded for its time, the game does not manage to instil its themes beyond a few visual elements and synopsis statements.
This is a shame, because Foobar versus the DEA, shared as a freeware, represents the versatility of the LGBT community in the midst of the great social, economic and health crisis it experienced in the United States during the 1980s and 1990s. The game confronts the mainstream representations that still nourished that era; similar to the New Queer Cinema, led by a new generation of filmmakers and characterised by a very offensive rhetoric against the patriarchal and religious order, Foobar versus the DEA does not hesitate to attack industry giants, media and state institutions. Although it struggles to be a convincing experiment from a purely technical standpoint, it is an important record in the cultural history of the LGBT community.
__________
[1] Tony Marco, Shaky Foundation: Twelve 'Big Lies' The 'Gay Rights' Movement is Built on, 1993, quoted in Didi Herman, '(Il)legitimate Minorities: The American Christian Right's Anti-Gay-Rights Discourse', in Journal of Law and Society, vol. 23, no. 3, p. 350.
[2] Didi Herman, op. cit.
[3] Yulia Vorobyeva, ‘Illegal Drugs as a National Security Threat: Securitization of Drugs in the U.S. Official Discourse’, in Bruce M. Bagley, Jonathan D. Rosen (ed.), Trafficking, Organized Crime, and Violence in the Americas Today, University of Florida Press, Gainesville, 2015, p. 50.
[4] Grace Ramsey, ‘How the War on Drugs Harms the LGBTQIA+ Community’, in Drug Policy Alliance, 22nd June 2018, consulted on 30 March 2023.