Humans sit atop a complex food chain, not because we are physically superior to every other creature on the planet, but rather because we have evolved into the most cunning and ruthless beasts to inhabit the earth. We are not the biggest, nor the strongest, nor are our defense mechanisms the most effective. Perhaps for this reason, that we are ultimately nothing without tools or weapons, that I find it fascinating when faced against something so obviously stronger than myself. Often in games, physical size is a direct representation of stature and power, and developers utilize character size to make the player feel like up against overwhelming odds. Many of the most memorable boss fights and enemy encounters I’ve experienced have been against enormous creatures and monsters, forcing me into the underdog’s position — nothing is more satisfying than entering the underdog and emerging victorious.
I didn’t become fully cognitive of the games I was playing until I was into the 32 and 64 bit era, but even when playing 16 bit games, enormous sprite based monsters scared me. Some, like Super Metroid’s Kraid were understandable — an enormous, screen-filling lizard-demon is frightening at any age, and so then is the sense of accomplishment when felling such a beast. Did I beat Kraid when I was 5? Probably not. I recall my older friends attempting the fight more so than I do myself, but I can still recall the awe I felt when seeing so big lurch onto the screen for Samus to fight. Size in games easily accentuates the significance of an encounter, something even a 5 year old can understand.
Playing games in the 3D space had an even more profound effect on me as a child, and drove me to seek out these large enemies. Nearly every boss battle in The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time is against a monster that dwarfs Link, with the exception of eventually facing Ganondorf. Looking up to see Gohma’s bloodshot eye before she crashes down in front of me, or King Dodongo being so large that he can literally vacuum-suck you up — it became one of my favorite things about 3D gaming. The fight against the giant hermit crab, Nipper, in Banjo-Kazooie, the green alien claws that made people explode in Half-Life, hell even the disturbing eel in Jolly Rodger Bay from Super Mario 64, all resonate in my mind. Even as I got older, the boss fights that stand out to me most revolve around fighting big ass bosses.
The psychology of the fascination is simple really — in real life, there aren’t really any threats that share these qualities. We hear stories about anacondas in the Amazon growing up to 30 feet long, but these are under very rare circumstances; somehow they have managed to live undetected for decades. Unfortunately when such a snake emerges, that are usually killed by the people that found them for being a threat. It’s both sad and dumb, but humans protect themselves first and foremost, seldom with exception. Some games even examine this idea, like Shadow of the Colossus. In Shadow of the Colossus, players control a young boy and slaughter many gargantuan monsters, for the most part without instigation, but rather to save a girl. Despite the negativity associated with reading through the lines, Shadow of the Colossus may be the best example of what it’s like to face adversaries you should stand no chance against. The games’ bosses, or Colossi, are varied and unique, often looking like animals or mythological creatures. To even harm them, players must literally ascend their bodies through various methods in order to find weak points to strike. Killing the beasts is as thrilling as it is eventually disparaging.
One modern game in particular that rekindled my appreciation for boss size is Dark Souls. Dark Souls combines boss size with a difficulty to match their scope. The payoff of slaying one of the enormous monsters in Dark Souls is heightened by just how difficult the fights themselves are. One encounter especially sticks out among the list of now-classic bosses: the Gaping-Dragon. This revolting dragon is presented in a beautiful, harrowing way in a water-logged sewer, showing the massive drake slowly climbing into frame, just how big it truly is. With its maw located between its jagged ribs, its primary attack is basically folding itself in half to tower over the player before slamming itself to the ground, where many an unfortunate warrior has found instant death. Defeating the monster, who has an unreasonably plentiful health point pool, requires overcoming its daunting size. Throughout the Dark Souls series there are countless boss fights like this one, where the player is at the mercy of a creature ten times their size. These fights are what keeps me returning to the series — I’m always ready to see what new monstrosity they’re cooked up.
My love of giant bosses reflects my love of subverting expectations and proving my detractors wrong— overcoming impossible odds is the greatest sensation a game can give you, and one every god game delivers in some way, even if they don’t serve up colossal bosses. Surviving a seemingly endless wave of covenant in Halo 2, platforming to reach the hardest star in Super Mario Galaxy, landing on top of the leader board in Overwatch — these are all rewards for skill and beating that which presses against you. The ultimate video game representation of a final goal, in a level or the game as a whole, is one more big bad for you to stomp. Thrusting your blade into Ganon’s face for the last time and effectively finishing the game is what makes for a satisfying finale — without it an ending lands with a thud and not a deafening crescendo (The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild is a prime example of a very modern game concluding with grace, satisfaction, and one big ass dead pig). If every game culminated in a spectacular showdown between my hero and a dragon the size of a building I would likely grow tired of it, but I’ll be damned to complain if a developer utilizes the “go big, or go home” mantra in their development style — we’re on the same damn page.
Chase Prior 