For well over a century, Americans have marveled at the supposed “wildness” of the West while also worrying that it was rapidly coming to an end. At the heart of Red Dead Redemption II’s western narrative is a familiar story. From the splash screen text that opens the single-player adventure—“by 1899…the West had mostly been tamed”—the game declares its intention of showcasing a fading West, an “Old” West giving way to a “New” West. Throughout their journey, almost every member of the van der Linde gang waxes nostalgic about the era of unbounded western possibility that they believed was then coming to an end. Early on, we hear Arthur Morgan, our rugged and stoic protagonist, lament the onslaught of “more and more civilization” and his yearning to “get back in the open country, or the West, or what’s left of it, and even that ain’t the way I remember it.” The ending of an era—that is the basic story of the game. As it turns out, it’s also one of the oldest stories Americans have told about the West. For well over a century, Americans have marveled at the supposed “wildness” of the West while also worrying that it was rapidly coming to an end, uncertain what this closing might mean for the American character.
Does such a narrative make sense? This chapter explores the American obsession with the West. Together, we’ll try to answer: what exactly is the West? Why have people been fascinated by it for so long, yet so quick to declare its supposed closing or waning? These dilemmas cut right to the heart of American culture and might shed light on the strange nation that the game seeks to capture.
First off: what’s in a name? We rarely question geographic containers like “the West.” Folks might dispute the precise boundaries of their West—Is the Mississippi River or the edge of the Great Plains the eastern boundary? Do coastal cities like Los Angeles or Seattle truly belong?—but few would challenge the idea that there is a wide swath of land that should be called “the West.” After all, it’s the western half of North America, right? Actually, not so simple. When we name a place by a geographical direction, we unconsciously communicate our own bias and positionality. Whether we know it or not, we are implicitly signaling a center that we are placing our subject in relation to. In other words, directional names are not neutral.
