One such story is that of the three Bielski Brothers (their names were Tuvia, Zus and Asael), who ultimately rescued more than 1,200 Jews from certain death at the hands of the Nazis. This was the single largest rescue of Jews by Jews during the Second World War, and today about 20,000 descendants are alive due to these courageous men. I had an inside look at this amazing story, which was immortalized in the 2008 film “Defiance” starring Daniel Craig and Liev Schreiber as two of the brothers.

On Tuesday night, Oct. 26, Zvi Bielski, son of Zus, spoke at the St. Louis Jewish Community Center about his father and uncles’ experiences during the war. With close to 200 people attending, split about evenly between Jews and non-Jews, Bielski showed some clips from the movie and went on to describe them in detail. He also showed news accounts from CNN and local television stations discussing the exploits of his father and his father’s brothers, dating back to 1995 when his father passed away at the age of 83. The other two brothers died earlier; Asael in 1945 at the end of WWII, and Tuvia in 1987 at the age of 81. It has only been in the past 15 years that the family has attempted to make known this remarkable, but true story.

For three years, more than 1,200 people lived in a makeshift town, complete with a kitchen, synagogue, mill, bakery, medical clinic and even a bathhouse. In his speech, the younger Bielski emphasized repeatedly that he “is not the son of a Holocaust survivor, but is the son of a guerilla fighter.” The traditional depiction of Jews merely surviving does not apply to the Bielski family; quite the contrary: With a force of only 300 men (the rest were women, children and the elderly), they managed to kill 381 Nazis. Amazingly, at the end of their experience, it became known that of all the people whom the Bielski Brothers sheltered, only nine individuals were actually lost.

Zvi Bielski went on to say that this image of the Jew as a complacent, passive figure is so widespread that during one of his talks, there were actual protests because no one could believe Jews actually fought back. In addition, he mentioned an interesting and completely obscure historical fact, one which the Nazis were aware of but managed to successfully suppress. At least 30,000 Jews took up arms against the Nazis in the Polish and Russian resistance forces during the Nazi occupation.

After the war, Zvi’s family never sought recognition for what they did, with Tuvia even rejecting a high position in the Israel Defense Forces (IDF), preferring to go into business with his brother Zus; they opened a small trucking business in New York City and worked together for 30 years. Over the years, many individuals would find the brothers and profusely thank them. To this day, their children are still thanked by survivors and their families. In the end, the Bielski Brothers simply wanted to live in freedom, as Jews and as men. They succeeded beyond their dreams in attaining their freedom and their lives. More than anyone else, they have taught me that one person can indeed make a difference and that freedom quite often starts with an act of defiance.

“Mass Effect 2” is the latest and greatest action RPG from prolific Canadian developer BioWare. (Courtesy of Electronic Arts)

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I just finished playing a Japanese RPG (role-playing game). It’s the story of a troubled amnesiac, and a precocious girl who thinks that anything is possible—if only he’d just believe. The quasi-pseudo-real-time battle system can only be described as a seizure-inducing *numbers-gasm*, and it clocks in at over 80 hours thanks to dungeons that can only be accessed after eight fetch quests and a month’s worth of grinding to defeat. It’s brilliant, and it’s called “Final Fantasy SNII: Fantabulous Backsidal Attackillis.”

…And I’m spent. Even I think it’s become far too easy to poke fun at Japanese RPGs. Considering that the genre’s finest examples all date from before the turn of the century, it’s hard to label the genre as anything but stagnant. But while the East is seemingly frozen in time, Western developers haven’t been shy in kicking butt and taking risks with their own brand of RPGs. Here’s a few reasons why they’re worth playing.

What sets the two types of games apart is the West’s greatest export: freedom. Western RPGs stay true to their name by actually giving players the chance to develop a character and play a role in the story. When I create a new Jedi in “Knights of the Old Republic,” I know that Lance Uppercut is unmistakably my character. Just like me, he’s a lover, not a fighter, which explains why I’ve maxed out his charisma. Also like me, he’s a saint who regularly travels the galaxy, reuniting orphan families and raking in Light Side points like leaves.

But the sagacious Master Uppercut senses fear and anger in a party member who is currently aligned with the Dark Side. Being a charismatic saint has its moments, and I have access to special conversation options that allow me to convince her to see the Light. More chats reveal that she is Force-sensitive, and I eagerly begin training her in the way of the Jedi; it’s not long before I swap out her dull vibroblade for a deadly lightsaber.

As the story nears its conclusion, it’s clear that the ultimate fate of the galaxy lies in Lance Uppercut’s hands. Though the Dark Side’s power is tempting, I still choose to save the galaxy from the Sith menace. The galaxy is at peace, for now, but I know it’s only a matter of time until I return with Bruce Roundhouse and slaughter millions of puppies in the name of becoming the new Sith Lord.

Japanese RPGs, unlike their Western counterparts, set out to tell a static story about static characters. When the only thing I can choose about my characters is their magicks, I can’t help but feel that I’m only along for the ride. No amount of sphere grid customization will change Tidus from a nasal Meg Ryan knockoff with daddy issues to an actually likeable protagonist. Questionable character design aside, most Japanese RPGs don’t allow the player to influence the story or its characters in meaningful ways, and the result is something more akin to movies than games. Conversely, by giving players freedom, Western RPGs tap into gaming’s defining quality as a medium—interactivity—to make their stories relevant to the player.

“I don’t care,” you say. “I bawled at the end of ‘FFX.’” I’ve heard it all before. I used to date one of you. She played entries VII-XII of “Final Fantasy,” and she’s crazy—evidenced by the fact that she kept on playing the same game with different coats of paint.

Yes, Japanese RPGs set themselves apart from one another with different settings, characters and battle systems, but is that enough? Almost all games in the genre follow the familiar structure of town, side quest, dungeon, boss and cutscene. Five straight “Final Fantasy” games all used variations of Square’s patented Active Time Battle system, and 11 of the 13 games resorted to using random battles. It’s been quite some time since the JRPG has seen legitimate change.

Things are different in the Wild West, where developers have successfully shoehorned RPG elements into every genre imaginable. The result is a number of games that differ in far more than just setting and combat system. Take “Deus Ex” and “Fallout 3” as examples—both are FPS (first-person shooter)/RPG hybrids, but the two share almost nothing else in common. The former is a linear shooter designed to let players tackle situations in a myriad of ways, and the latter is a non-linear romp with an emphasis on exploration and nihilistic choices, like nuking a town.

The sprawl of the Western RPG includes everything from the cathartic and click-tastic “Diablo” series to the dark and dialogue-heavy cult classic “Planescape: Torment.” It’s the genre that somehow has room for the top-down tactical combat of “Dragon Age: Origins” and the third-person shootouts of “Mass Effect 2.” Perhaps it’s a sign of the times that “Dragon Age” won several Game of the Year awards in 2009, and “Mass Effect 2” is already this year’s favorite for the same award.

For the record, I’m partially playing devil’s advocate. I usually cite “Chrono Trigger” as my favorite game of all time, though it holds a special place in my heart mainly because it subverts the tired clichés and contrived mechanics of the JRPG. Even Square Enix has felt the winds of change, and countless fans were shocked when they discovered that “Final Fantasy XIII” has no towns. But the changes may be too little, too late. The constantly evolving Western RPG, with its maturing emphasis on player choice, offers a more rewarding experience across a variety of genres. Manifest destiny is calling—go play an RPG from my favorite hemisphere.

Click here for the counter-argument

Anyway, what I’m trying to get at here is that if freedom is so obviously beneficial (Mel Gibson movies never lie), why do I feel like students at this university are not granted as much freedom as we deserve? Correct me if I am wrong, but it seems as though Wash. U. students rarely get the benefit of the doubt. This idea has been stewing in my brain for quite a while, and Eliza Adelson’s article on the alleged WUPD profiling certainly brought up an aspect of what I am talking about.

Colleges are historically liberal environments. Now, by no means am I suggesting a ’60s-esque return to overt public nudity and hallucinogen abuse. I simply feel that we, as students, are fairly monitored for people who are not only supposed to be treated like adults, but also “the future leaders” of this great country.

I happen to know a student who was stopped and questioned by a University City police officer simply for walking home too late. If this does not imply some sort of assumed guilt, or some belief that we as college students are degenerate thugs, then call me Mariah Carey, and I assure you, I am not Mariah Carey. I understand that our school has an extremely tenuous relationship with the off-campus community at the moment, but is this sort of hawkish patrol really necessary? I would suspect that pretty much all of our students are intelligent and good people, given that we were admitted to this university in the first place.

Humans as a species are fallible. We make mistakes, and this is not, in our particular case, just because we are young or in college. People make stupid decisions all the time. I understand that the school prides itself on its reputation and on its academics, and those are fantastic qualities—after all, they drew me to this school in the first place. However, as a result of the image that we have to uphold, I sometimes feel that the undergraduate student body is under a constant spotlight.

Simply because a student is able to excel both in academics and in extracurriculars does not mean that he or she is flawless. Nor is that person an incorrigible, disgusting creature. There is a delicate balance, and I sometimes feel that our administration expects a little too much out of us. If we make a mistake, it’s part of life. There doesn’t always have to be a slew of judicial processes to make us realize we were wrong. A little trust between the administration and the student body would go a long way. I hope this article doesn’t get me suspended.

Signing off,
The paranoid columnist

P.S. Big Brother is always watching.

Charlie is a sophomore in Arts & Sciences. He can be reached via e-mail at chlow@artsci.wustl.edu.