I was reading an analysis by Daniel Cook over at Gamasutra that at first made me nod in agreement. Games have repetitious themes and often implement them in disjunction with or with disregard for their game mechanics. It’s good to see yet another member of the games industry catch on to this endemic problem and suggest a solution. But then a curious thing happens, Cook goes from talking about literary themes to what I’d rather call genre, but he keeps on calling it “theme”. Piracy in a work isn’t, as Cook assumes, a literary theme like “redemption” or “estrangement”. It’s a theme in the same sense that you can have a costume party with a pirate theme… but that definition doesn’t do us any good here. A literary theme arises from the interplay of plot, setting, character, conflict, and tone. According to Cook:
The theme you select directly influences how you present your initial skills to the user. By saying “pirates,” I turn on a particular schema in the player’s brain and a network of possible behaviors and likely outcomes instantaneously lights up.
“Pirates” here is more of a genre, a mental model for what is expected of the structure and content of the work. It isn’t the same as a story about redemption, something much more intangible and difficult to communicate. But whatever you want to call it, mixing up this “theme” with literary themes only leads to a confused analysis of how themes and games interact. To implement a literary theme, let’s say redemption again, would require well thought out and coherent game mechanics that convey the essence of what it is to be a protagonist experiencing or delivering redemption. There isn’t a simple mental model for the representation of a literary theme, since these are generally aspects of the human condition that have confounded us since the dawn of recorded history.
I mean, okay, this kind of stuff is generally dismissed as quibbling. Getting into arguments about terms and definitions is usually the quickest way to say a whole lot of nothing while annoying the hell out of everyone. But, clearly defined terms are the only way we can have productive conversations. It seems everyone in this industry has their own definition of theme, story, plot and narrative; and we wonder why no one can agree on what it means to have a game that tells a story.
This is part two of the Flaws of Narrative, a look at Michael Abbott’s Narrative manifesto. Click here to read part I.
If I were to follow Michael’s order, I would next comment on Braid’s visionary designer Jonathan Blow, but since I basically agree with everything he says, that’s going to be a mountain I’ll climb in part III.
Steve Gaynor - The game designer’s role
Steve’s point of view is similar to Redding and Hocking’s (part I) in that he believes the designer should be largely “hands-off” and simply give players the tools they need to create their own stories.
I believe this is again an example of a viewpoint that sees the inherent chaos and unpredictability of the player, and without being able to see beyond traditional linear storytelling just gives up on story in games by pointing to the popularity of games like The Sims, or online worlds, where players create their own stories. My reply is basically the same in part I. Just because there is an infinite number of prime numbers, we shouldn’t avoid looking for the Riemann zeta function; and just because genetic mutation is inherently unpredictable and chaotic doesn’t mean we shouldn’t pursue the limits of the theory of evolution. Again, Gaynor’s point of view isn’t wrong, we should definitely endeavour to allow players to experience richer stories that they feel are unique to their actions. It’s just that this view keeps us from fully considering the larger picture of storytelling in games.
L.B. Jeffries - Non linear reactive stories
Jeffries is definitely a wild-card, but I like that. I think it’s definitely by getting away from our preconceived notions of games and stories that we’ll make progress in this field. The application of tarot card reading, an ancient “storytelling” art, to storytelling in games is really fascinating, but isn’t the answer to the overall problem.
Jeffries suggests that just like tarot cards take advantage of our mind’s natural inclination to create meaning, to take chaos and enforce order on it, so too could these principles take the chaos of player agency and allow the player to infer their own meanings:
A series of reactions like someone crying for help if you shoot them or a dog following you if you feed it could be created in response to the player. Rather than worry about how these relate to some grand linear story, simply leave them as short vignettes that connect and relate to one another through A.I.
This, I believe, is a fantastic approach to storytelling in games, but it doesn’t need to come at the expense of a grander story. With enough forethought, the vignettes could easily combine to form a larger dynamic plot, or else help reinforce a dynamic plot told through other game mechanics, art, environments, sounds and haptics (yes, I will hammer you with this string of potential storytelling vehicles every chance I get).
