What do online video games, zombie movies and the ICE shooting in Minneapolis have in common? More than you might think.

When the video game Space Invaders first appeared in 1978, it took gaming a quantum leap forward. True, compared with today's level of animation, the highly pixelated aliens look as futuristic as the Chrysler K-Car. But the army of invaders marching relentlessly downward got our hearts pounding and our adrenaline pumping as we shuttled our cannon back and forth at the bottom of the screen.

The attacking aliens were essentially zombies, possessing neither personality nor freedom of motion. They served only one function: kill or be killed. As such, they were the earliest incarnation of this week's addition to the Ethical Lexicon:

Non-Player Character (also Non-Playable Character or NPC) | noun

A character in a video game that neither represents nor can be manipulated by any player.

In multiplayer games, NPCs took on a different role, adding depth and texture to the virtual environment. The people or creatures you met on your journey didn't necessarily pose threats or obstacles. They simply enhanced the overall player experience, creating a deeper sense of reality in an imaginary world.

Over time, even that began to change. As video games grew more sophisticated and complex, so did non-player characters. Many new games allow for relational interactions so that a player's choices influence the development and behavior of the NPC.

But many don't. In other words, their NPCs remain zombies. Despite all the advances in AI, serious gamers still contend with two-dimensional non-player characters that may interfere with the storyline rather than advance it.

Considering the exceptional amount of creativity and coding that goes into game creation, why are designers still falling short in providing depth and complexity to these characters?

The answer is laziness. Programmers become so focused on animation and special effects that they neglect to imbue their characters with satisfyingly realistic personalities. Instead, they fill the empty spaces of their virtual world with cookie-cutter placeholders.

In movies and television as well, characters don't have to be zombies to act like zombies. Have you ever gritted your teeth when a character demonstrates infuriating and inexplicable cluelessness? How can we invest ourselves in a character suffering from an interminable case of the stupids?

The explanation is the same: It's easy to dream up a clever premise. It takes a lot more creativity to keep the story moving. Too often, writers resort to tired formulas or movie cliches because imitation is easier than originality.

Even worse, this phenomenon is not limited to the realm of our imaginations.

The recent shooting in Minneapolis is a perfect example of real-world zombification. Mayor Jacob Frey implied murder without actually saying it; others showed no such restraint. Across the aisle, Vice President Vance denounced Renee Good as a "deranged leftist," and Homeland Security Secretary Kristi Noem accused her of domestic terrorism. Neither accusation is likely true, and both are irrelevant.

Was the shooting justified? I have no idea. One video seems to show the car lurching forward into ICE agent Jonathan Ross, who was injured by the vehicle. But interpreting video evidence is notoriously more complicated than it appears. This is why ethics demands that we leave investigations to experts and not adjudicate them on social media.

It was reassuring, therefore, to hear at least one voice of reason from Minnesota Attorney General Keith Ellison: "There is no conclusion anyone can reach in good faith at this time."

This should be common sense. But non-player characters don't possess common sense. They merely parrot the talking points programmed into them by tribal affiliation and ideological preconception.

If Agent Ross used excessive force, he should be prosecuted to the full extent of the law, as Derek Chauvin was for the murder of George Floyd. If he followed protocol, he should be exonerated and not have his life and career ruined the way Darren Wilson did for his fully justified shooting of Michael Brown.

Yes, it's tragic that a 37-year-old mother of three lost her life. But the tragedy of her death tells us nothing about the circumstances of her death, and the robotic repetition of slogans and soundbites by NPCs only obscures the truth rather than bringing it into focus.

See more by Yonason Goldson and features by other Creators Syndicate writers and cartoonists; visit the Creators Syndicate webpage at www.creators.com.

Photo credit: Ade Awobokun at Unsplash