Lucas Versantvoort
Student Number: 6058493
Media Studies: Film Studies
Faculty of Humanities
University of Amsterdam
26-06-2014
* 12-12-2015: Due to lay-out problems, the images aren't included here
Abstract
This thesis is an attempt to answer
a longstanding question in game studies: whether or not it is possible to
satisfactorily combine an open video game with classical narrative. These two
often conflict when combined in a video game. Open video game design emphasizes
the role of the player and gameplay mechanics whereas linear, or 'closed' games
often emphasize plot over gameplay. The rules of proper storytelling and
classical narrative thus conflict with the elements of open game design. These
tensions between plot and gameplay have been part of the discussions between
the ludologists and the narratologists.
It
is the goal of this thesis to offer several answers, compromises, to the above
question. A key point is that because complete integration of classical
narrative into open game design seems structurally impossible, the focus lies
on integrating as many elements of classical narrative as possible into
open game design without causing structural conflicts.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
ABSTRACT
TABLE OF
CONTENTS
INTRODUCTION: A CONTRADICTIO IN
TERMINIS?
Constructing
the Thesis
The First Compromise: Emergent Narrative and
Gameplay
The Second Compromise:
Meaningful Gameplay
The Third Compromise: Mass
Effect
THE THEORETICAL
FRAMEWORK
Plot
and Story
Classical Narrative
Thematic
Unity
Unity-in-Variety
Closed and linear Video Game Design
Openness and Nonlinearity in Video
Games
Emergent Narrative and Gameplay
Meaningful
Gameplay
Ludonarrative
Dissonance
The
Ludologists and Narratologists
THE FIRST COMPROMISE: EMERGENT
NARRATIVE AND GAMEPLAY
Journey
Dwarf
Fortress
Brogue
Conclusion
THE SECOND COMPROMISE: MEANINGFUL
GAMEPLAY
Far
Cry 3
Ludonarrative
Dissonance in Far Cry 3
Meaningful
Gameplay in Far Cry 3
THE THIRD COMPROMISE: MASS FFECT
The
Mass Effect
series
Unity
of Themes and Unity-in-Variety in Mass Effect
Conclusion
CONCLUSION
WORKS
CITED
Introduction: a Contradictio in Terminis?
In the world of game studies, one of
the questions that has oft plagued these particular fields of study is the
following: is it possible for a nonlinear, open video game to incorporate a
classical, linear narrative without structural issues? One might be inclined to
immediately say yes, but such a combination would be extremely difficult to
achieve, if not impossible, because the question implies a contradictio in
terminis: how can a video game be both open and closed at the same time? A
closed game is closed/linear precisely because it wants to focus on the
narrative and not on the interactivity of the player, whereas an open game does
the opposite, namely focus on gameplay and the interactive role of the player
which usually comes at the expense of logical, coherent storytelling.
Answering
this question is highly relevant, because should the answer be 'yes,' it could
mean that a video game could combine two, essentially mutually exclusive, key
aspects of a game: openness on the one hand which easily allows for a large
amount of gameplay options and replay value and on the other hand a coherent,
well-structured, linear, closed narrative which more easily grants the player
the possibility of becoming emotionally invested and/or interested in the game
world, the story and the characters. The player would be both satisfied in
terms of gameplay and narrative without one being in conflict with the other.
This would be the positive outcome for the game players were this question
answered with a 'yes.' However, to provide a satisfying answer is another
matter entirely.
Two
groups that have struggled with (and are still struggling) with this question,
among many things, are the ludologists and the narratologists. The key
difference between these two groups is something their names already hint at.
Both groups are familiar with the structural issues that arise when a narrative
is applied to a video game. But they differ in the way games should be academically
studied. Ludologists, like Espen Aarseth, think that the element of play is the
key characteristic of games and what separates them from other media:
Playing is integral, not
coincidental like the appreciative reader or listener. The creative involvement
is a necessary ingredient in the uses of games. The complex nature of simulations
is such that a result can’t be predicted beforehand; it can vary greatly
depending on the player’s luck, skill and creativity. (Aarseth)
Ludologists like Aarseth thus place
gameplay and the rules of a video games above other aspects as the main objects
of study. They do not wish for video games to be studied merely with the
analytic concepts of pre-existing disciplines. However, Aarseth noted the
following:
Yet much of the
industry and the academic commentators see the need for "narrative"
structures in order to understand games and make games "better." In
this issue, the debate about narratives’ and narratology’s relevance to game
studies is clearly visible. This is a debate that shows the very early stage we
are still in, where the struggle of controlling and shaping the theoretical
paradigms has just started. (Aarseth 2001)
Aarseth makes it clear that narratology has played an important role in
debates in game studies. This brings us to the narratologists.
Narratologists propose a different way of studying games. They analyze games
through concepts related to the field of narratology and see games and its
unique characteristics as a way for new kinds of storytelling to emerge. Key
figures in these debates include Henry Jenkins, Ernest Adams, Gonzalo Frasca
and Jesper Juul. I will go into more detail on their contributions later.
These
debates have gone on for several decades (since the 1980s). Also, along with
the recent popularity of games featuring emergent narrative and gameplay, new
texts have appeared dealing with both the appeal of these games, the (very
minimal) role narrative plays in them and, more broadly, questions on what role
narrative should play (or not) in games (Alexander 2014; Bissell 2011; Houghton
2014; Kelly 2011; Lee 2013; Marinello n.d.; McNamara 2004; Wanenchak 2014). The
article by Alexander heavily quotes video game designer Warren Spector who,
despite adoring linear, story-driven games such as Heavy Rain (2010), prefers games with emergent narrative and
gameplay, games that create endless replay value through rules and
gameplay mechanics:
Create
global rules versus specific, instanced behavior of objects and characters;
build interlocking systems that are
predictable and consistent (some objects are flammable, some guards are light-sensitive, the player has
torches) but not pre-determined. Have a variety of object properties with plausible or simulated effects
("let water be water") that players can learn and engage with. (2014)
Houghton on the other hand feels
that too great an emphasis on open game design can result in a lack of
structure which results in uninteresting gameplay and player experiences.
Houghton emphasizes that any powerful, emotional moments the player can
experience are usually the result of structured level design and not completely
open game design:
While
non-linear games can bring about some excellent, emergent gameplay from time to time, the most exciting and
resonating moments in gaming still come from the type of calculated, structured drama that springs
from predesigned parameters unfolding within specially
designed environments. The random factor of non-linear design throws up great anecdotes, but truly affecting, intense,
satisfyingly challenges, victories and crescendos need level design. (2014)
In short, Houghton states that if a
game is to engage and move the player, then this can only be done through
structured game design and not completely open world game design.
Kelly
on the other hand finds that although games have tried hard to convincingly
tell stories, they have failed. Rather than trying to tell stories, games
should focus on 'storysensing'. This seems to be an extension of what Jenkins
referred to as environmental storytelling, the importance of spatiality in games
and how games “centered around enabling players to move through narratively
compelling spaces” (2004). Storysensing is about world-building: the seemingly
unnecessary details that give life to the game world. This includes background
dialogue and details in the environments (audio logs, graffiti painted on
walls, etc.). This notion of ‘storysensing’ seems related to ‘the reality
effect’ as explained by Barthes. The reality effect entails that all the
details in a text that do not seem important in terms of plot (lengthy
descriptions of a dining room, for instance) actually grant the text a sense of
realism (Barthes 1989). The above ‘storysensing’ details seem to serve the same
function.
Even
modern-day video game directors have commented on the issues of integrating
plot into games, like the director of Final Fantasy XIII (2009), Motomu
Toriyama, who said that “when you look at most Western RPGs, they just dump you
in a big open world, and let you do whatever you like... [It] becomes very
difficult to tell a compelling story when you're given that much freedom"
(Ingham 2010). Japanese game developer Hideo Kojima has also commented on the
tensions between telling a story through gameplay and through cinematic devices
(like cutscenes). Kojima has the desire to tell stories through gameplay, to
more fully integrate plot into gameplay. He would like to achieve something
similar to interactive narrative design, merging plot with gameplay. He fears however
that this interactivity will result in a lessened emotional impact with the player
(Doree 2008). According to Simons, the narratology-ludology debate has quieted
since 2003, but has not been resolved (2007). The recent texts and comments by
game developers attempting to deal with these issues attest to that. The issue
of the relationship between narrative and gameplay is thus still a pressing
one.
The
goal of this thesis then is to provide and discuss three possible answers, none
of them ideal, to the research question. None of them suggest that a perfect
combination exists, that open, nonlinear video games can showcase entirely
linear, coherent, thematically cohesive narratives in the strictest sense (in
that they fully adhere to the rules of classical narratives). Rather, the three
answers I will give represent alternatives, answers that suggest a middle
ground, a way of looking at how a video game can be both open/nonlinear and
still incorporate important elements of classical narratives to a
satisfactory degree. So, the (now revised) question I aim to answer is: is it
possible for an open video game to be combined with a classical, linear
narrative in the strictest sense and if not, what possible combinations exist
where open games are able to be satisfactorily combined with elements of
classical narrative? The main idea behind this thesis is to use the
ludology-narratology debate (along with various concepts) to explain why
applying narrative to games has been and still is structurally problematic. The
point is thus not to critique the ludologists and narratologists, but to use those
debates as a backdrop for explaining the problems when applying narrative to
games and to make suggestions on how game design can be altered to best suit
the needs of a structurally sound combination of open game design and elements
of classical narrative.
Constructing the Thesis
The structure of the thesis shall be
as follows: The first part will be dedicated to thoroughly analyzing and
elucidating certain key terms. These terms are 'plot' (as opposed to 'story'),
'unity of themes,' 'unity-in-variety,' 'openness' and 'nonlinearity,' 'closed
video games' and 'linearity,' 'ludonarrative dissonance,' 'emergent narrative
and gameplay' and 'meaningful gameplay.' Together, these terms form the
theoretical basis for this thesis as the research question rests on the
structural tensions between these narrative-and-gameplay related terms. Here I
will also go into greater detail regarding the ludology-narratology debate. It
is also by going through these terms one by one that it will become clear why
satisfactorily combining classical narrative and open game design is such a
difficult proposition.
The First Compromise: Emergent Narrative and Gameplay
The second part is where I will
introduce and explain the first of the three alternative answers regarding the
research question. Here I will focus on video games featuring 'emergent
narrative and gameplay' and show how these types of video games represent one
possible combination of openness and linearity in that they utilize their open
nature and lack of story to allow the player to create their own narratives.
These games often focus on a specifically designed game world and game
mechanics which the player must master and can also present chaotic situations.
It is these small types of situations that are seen as narratives and where the
term 'emergent narrative' comes from but, though one possible answer to the
research question, it is precisely these types of chaotic situations that make
them incapable of satisfying enough criteria of classical narratives for them
to be seen as an acceptable answer to the research question.
In
terms of case studies, I will reference the video games analyzed by video game
developer and composer Terence Lee (2013): Journey (2012), Dwarf
Fortress (2006) and Brogue (2009), because not only are these games
strong examples of emergent narrative and gameplay, they also arguably represent
the ways these types of games have been incapable of representing a satisfying
combination of open video game design and classical narrative.
The Second Compromise: Meaningful Gameplay
In the third section of this thesis,
I will present my second alternative and possible answer to the research
question. In contrast to the previous answer which focused on emergent narrative
and gameplay, here I focus on what I will refer to as 'meaningful gameplay.'
Indeed, this term has been used on several occasions with various meanings
attached to it (Kim 2012). The notion of 'meaningful gameplay' I will be using
focuses on 'gameplay that is thematically linked to the narrative themes of the
story.' Thus, the possible combination of openness/nonlinearity and classical
narrative here focuses on narrative themes. It can be said that if gameplay is
thematically consistent in relation to the story's themes, then a certain unity
of gameplay and story has been achieved which in itself can be seen as a way in
which the game shows characteristics of classical narrative which itself
requires a unity of themes and thematic consistency.
When
gameplay is of such as a nature that it stands in the way of the story's themes
however, this is usually called ludonarrative dissonance. This has been an
issue for some time in the field of game studies, because rarely is it the case
that narrative and gameplay walk hand in hand without one having the upper hand
over the other. A video game that deals with a character gradually getting used
to violence would be considered to suffer from ludonarrative dissonance if the
gameplay only consisted of endless shooting. Meaningful gameplay is when a
thematic link exists between gameplay and the story's themes. This thesis will
in terms of meaningful gameplay use case studies that deal with choice systems
and morality, since that is, I believe, when gameplay can be at its most
'meaningful' in terms of its aforementioned relation to a story's themes. There
will be two main case studies: Tomb Raider (2013) and Far Cry 3 (2012).
Tomb Raider is used to elucidate meaningful gameplay precisely by
explaining how Tomb Raider does not have meaningful gameplay and instead
suffers from ludonarrative dissonance due to structural imbalances between
narrative and gameplay. Far Cry 3 is the key example in this chapter.
Although the game, like Tomb Raider,
suffers from ludonarrative dissonance, it presents a coming together of open
game design and classical narrative due to its use of themes, an important part
of classical narrative. It shows how a video game can be open and display
thematic consistency in terms of gameplay at the same time. The themes of the
game are 'mastering the jungle' and 'the ways of the warrior' and the open
gameplay, combined with the story progression, can be seen to illustrate these
themes throughout the game.
The Third Compromise: Mass Effect
My third and last alternative answer
to the research question, and the one which I believe is the most acceptable
compromise, focuses on a set of nonlinear video games that focus on telling a
story and, importantly, still display a certain unity of themes in their various
(side-)missions. My main case study here is the Mass Effect trilogy of
games: Mass Effect (2007), Mass Effect 2 (2010) and Mass
Effect 3 (2012). After touching upon the concepts of nonlinearity and
themes (unity of themes and unity-in-variety) again, I will explain how the Mass
Effect series is at once capable of being nonlinear while not sacrificing
thematic unity and unity-in-variety in the process.
If
it is indeed impossible to completely integrate classical narratives within
open, nonlinear video games, then it seems a compromise must be found where as
many elements of classical narrative are capable of being integrated into open,
nonlinear games. The Mass Effect series hints at an acceptable
compromise of that kind. While not a completely open game, it is not difficult
to imagine an open video game like Far Cry 3 exhibiting the same kind of
thematic unity and unity-in-variety if its side-missions were designed better.
I will come back to this in my conclusion.
The Theoretical Framework
There are a lot of terms and
concepts in this thesis that require ample explanation; terms not just related
to narrative, but also to video games. These are: plot and story, classical
narrative, thematic unity, unity-in-variety, openness and nonlinearity in video
games, closed and linear video games, emergent narrative and gameplay,
meaningful gameplay and ludonarrative dissonance. This entire chapter will be
devoted to elucidating these terms with some of them requiring more explanation
than others. I will also devote additional time to the differences between
ludologists and narratologists.
Plot
and Story. For these terms I will be paraphrasing and quoting from Bordwell's Narration
in the fiction film (1988). Although related, the key difference between
the two is the fact that story has to do with the cognitive processes of the
viewer while plot is the way the narrative elements are presented in a film.
One might easily be inclined to say that a term such as story means the same as
plot, but Aristotle and the Russian Formalists would argue differently.
According to Bordwell, these figures have contributed to defining a crucial
difference between story and plot. 'Story' (also called 'fabula') is the story the
viewer constructs, both “progressively and retroactively” (Bordwell 49) whereas
'plot' (also called 'syuzhet') “is the actual arrangement and presentation of
the fabula in the film” (50). So, whereas fabula/story is the cause-and-effect
story the viewer actively constructs in the process of watching, syuzhet/plot
is the actual way the story is presented. This means that a fabula itself may
remain the same, but the suyzhet can be structured in numerous ways. The
chapter on emergent narrative and gameplay will have to do with 'story', since
those types of games rely on gamers' own experiences and story formations,
while the two chapters after that deal with 'plot', the literal structuring of
narratives.
Classical
narrative, closely related to plot. I already referred to Aristotle and the
Russian Formalists and their role in the formation of a classical narrative. I
have decided to utilize these notions of narrative in this thesis, because the
successful combination of narrative and open game design becomes problematic
precisely when analyzing games with classical notions of narrative. Of course,
there are many other notions of narratives, as noted by Jesper Juul who asks
that in order to answer the question of whether or not games tell stories, it
depends on how one defines terms like 'story' (2001). Even the very ambiguity,
the 'muddiness' of the term 'narrative' has been analyzed by figures as
Zimmerman (2004). But precisely because a combination of open game design and
classical narrative is often structurally problematic, the classical narrative
is key here.
To
summarize classical, traditional narrative, one needs to look at Aristotle and
Gustav Freytag, two key figures who in their respective times, formulated
notions of narrative that are now associated with classical narrative. In his Poetica
(335 BC), Aristotle discusses the importance of a structured Plot in relation
to Tragedy. He states that it must have a beginning, middle and end. This is
one of the key elements of classical narrative:
A
beginning is that which does not itself follow anything by causal
necessity, but after which something
naturally is or comes to be. An end, on the contrary, is that
which itself naturally follows
some other thing, either by necessity, or as a rule, but has nothing following it. A middle is
that which follows something as some other thing follows it. A well-constructed plot, therefore, must neither
begin nor end at haphazard, but conform to these principles. (Aristotle)
A unified plot must thus have a
clear beginning, middle and end with a sequence of actions that follow the laws
of cause and effect. All the elements of the plot must thus be logically
connected to each other, so that it may express universal themes in a powerful
way (Poetica IX).
Eventually,
in the Nineteenth Century, Gustav Freytag wrote Die Technik des Dramas
(1863) in which he adapted Aristotle's views on beginning-middle-end into a
five-act dramatic structure (Madej 2008). These five acts which include two
moments of crisis are: exposition, exciting force (moment), rising action,
climax, falling action, resolution and dénouement. The introduction provides
the audience with vital information regarding plot elements as time and place,
earlier events and characters. Rising action means the event(s) that occur
after the introduction and, classically, spur the hero of the story into
action. This leads to the climax, the dramatic turning point in the story
followed by falling action, the sequence of events caused by the previous
climax during which the audience instinctively knows the story will soon come
to an end. After the final moment of resolution during which the main conflict
is resolved, the denouément arrives in which (usually) all lingering questions
are answered. Aristotle's ideas and Freytag's adaptation of those ideas have
come to be known as 'Aristotle's Arc' and ‘Freytag's Pyramid'.
Thematic
unity. This concept is closely related to notions of classical narrative.
Basically, it means that, ideally, all the elements of a narrative must be
connected to each other. It also has to with the concept of 'themes'. A theme is the message, the moral of
the story: “The theme or message is the main point or points that the viewer
draws from the way the characters respond to the obstacles or resolve the
conflict in the film” (Layne and Lewis 2009). A plot will often have characters
and actions linked by cause and effect, but a theme is what these narrative
elements may symbolize. An action may be that the main character speaks little
with other people. If this is a recurring element, the theme of the narrative
might be loneliness, but one needs the narrative elements to deduce the theme.
This is related to the notion of thematic patterning which is about the way a
narrative might have recurring motifs which all deal with the same theme which
subsequently grants a sense of cohesiveness to the overall plot. A narrative that achieves thematic unity is often found to be preferable
to a narrative that deals with too many themes which can easily be labeled
‘messy.’ Also, a narrative dealing with two or more separate storylines that
never connect, both literally and thematically, would be labeled something
along the lines of ‘disjointed,’ because these narrative elements had nothing
to do with each other. A narrative possessing a great deal of thematic unity
ensures a sense of cohesiveness. As the late John Hospers puts it:
The work of art must hold in suspension (as it were) a great diversity
of elements and unify them—the greater the complexity that is integrated into a
unity, the greater the achievement. This fact is so universally recognized that
the two criteria are often stated as one, unity-in-diversity, or
variety-in-unity. (Hospers)
Hospers links this to the term
'organic unity' which originates in Plato and Aristotle who “identified beauty with simplicity,
harmony, and proportion” and “were so impressed with aesthetic unity that they
compared it with the other most highly unified type of thing they knew, the
organism; and ever afterwards it has been called “organic unity”” (Parker).
An
interesting example of inadequate thematic unity can arguably be found in Save
the Tiger (1973). Summarizing the film is very difficult, because the film
has countless events and themes. It shows a day in the life of Harry Stoner,
who works as a partner in a dress-manufacturing firm. His is a busy life: he is
about to introduce a new line in his firm, he argues with a young, arrogant
worker, philosophizes with an old co-worker, arranges prostitutes for clients
(one of whom almost dies of a heart attack), plans to have one of his factories
burned down so he can collect insurance money, etc. There are countless scenes
that refer to a lot of different themes. This is partially the result of the
film feeling like a 'slice of life.' It tries to portray the downfall of modern
society in a generalized way. This has led critics like Roger Ebert to say the
following:
“Save
the Tiger” has been
attacked in some quarters for covering too much ground. I suppose it does. There's hardly a
contemporary issue that isn't at least mentioned, sometimes two or three times. Maybe the movie's writer, Steve Shagan, tried too hard to find a place in his script for everything on his mind.
"Save the Tiger" isn't just a statement; it's a summary of Shagan's intellectual inventory over
the last five years. (Ebert)
One could argue that the film lacks
thematic focus because it ‘tries to say too much.’ By referring to too many
issues it can be argued that the film covers too much ground thematically, that
the film has not built thematic unity through its many scenes. Since thematic
unity is an important aspect of narratology (Hilldrup), Save the Tiger could – from the perspective of narratology – be
seen as a problematic film. However, this lack of thematic focus is relieved of
its perceived status as a narrative failing when viewed through the concept of unity-in-variety.
The
earlier quote from Hospers emphasizes the close relation between thematic unity
and unity-in-variety. A plot might have one major important theme that is dealt
with over the course of the plot. It cannot however, be simply repeated with no
variety as this would lead to an ultimately uninteresting work since it would
only deal with its core theme in one way. A plot must also possess
unity-in-variety. As Hospers summarizes this in the following manner:
In many works of art there is a dominant theme, or motif, which stands
out and upon which the other portions are centred [sic]. This theme is then
varied in different ways in other portions of the work. This is a special case
of unity-in-variety. If every line in a work of music or literature were
entirely novel and different from the other ones, there would be enormous
diversity but no unifying connecting links, and if there were simply a
repetition of the initial theme or of entire sections of the work (as sometimes
happens when a composer does not know how to develop the thematic material with
which he has begun), there would be unity but no variety. Both unity and
variety are preserved by having central themes with other material that is
related to them (unity) but not identical with them (variety). (Hospers)
So, in a classical sense, a
narrative would have one or more thematically unified themes that are repeated
in various ways throughout the narrative. Dewitt Parker has a similar classical
notion of unity-in-variety: “The variety is of equal importance with the unity,
for unity can assert itself and work only through the control of a multiplicity
of elements” (Parker, “Chapter V”). In this sense, unity is achieved precisely
through the unifying of various, seemingly unrelated, elements.
For
an example of unity-in-variety (and for the sake of continuity), I will refer
again to Save the Tiger. I remarked that it is possible to state that
the film is thematically too broad and thus lacks focus and thematic unity.
However one can also attribute all its slice of life scenes to an
all-encompassing theme of 'modern life and its troubles versus the old ways'.
Throughout the film, Harry talks about 'the old days' in various contexts, but
he always views the past with rose-colored glasses. He struggles dealing with a
modern world which seemingly has no place for him anymore, all the while
reminiscing about the past. All the different events in the film can thus be
seen as variations on this theme. Precisely through its apparent randomness and
its various events, it paints a portrait of modern western society trapped in a
downward spiral. In this sense, while claims can be made that the film has no
thematic unity, cases for unity-in-variety can also be made, due to the films'
countless variations on its core theme.
Closed
and linear video game design. Video games that are linear or 'closed' are, as
these terms suggest, very controlled experiences and straightforward. Very closed,
linear games do not feature large, open game worlds the player can freely
explore, but force the player down relatively small environments. There are
countless examples, but one might think of a game like Call of Duty 4:
Modern Warfare (2007), or any other in that series of games, as very
linear. The games in this first person shooter series consist of a set of
missions, each of which is quite short and small and force the player to go
from point A to B in order to fulfill an objective and advance the narrative.
Attempts by the player to escape the limited environments in these missions are
met with artificially designed borders – debris, (invisible) walls, buildings –
solely made to block the player's path. Nevertheless, it is precisely these
types of games that are most suited for the application of elements of
classical narratives. One need only remind oneself of Aristotle's
beginning-middle-end structure to realize that a highly closed, linear game
would in terms of game design be better suited for such a narrative structure
than a nonlinear, 'open' game that emphasizes free exploration.
Openness
and nonlinearity. These two terms basically signify the opposite of closed and
linear video game design. Open and/or nonlinear games often emphasize exploration,
a large game world, replay value, the ability for the player to make his mark
on the game world. Whereas closed games often exhibit authorial intent, open
games often allow the player a great deal of freedom in choosing how to play
the game. There are numerous examples, but a very popular one is Grand Theft
Auto III (2001) which – like its sequels – has focused on crafting
extremely large, three-dimensional open worlds for the player to freely explore
in between story missions.
Although
it seems easy to summarize the distinctions between open and closed games, many
games do not neatly fit into one of these two categories. Because of the
different degrees of openness and linearity, one must be cautious when naming a
game merely open/nonlinear or closed/linear. The website TV Tropes for instance
has a sliding scale of linearity vs. openness that includes six categories from
very linear to very open. They take into account factors that might make a game
more open or closed, such as genres (rail shooters, sandbox, etc.), secret
levels, level progression, side quests, the amount of plot, the possibility of
exploration, the possibility of multiple endings and various other factors (TV
Tropes). When all these factors have been taken into account, one could place a
certain game on this sliding scale. The point is that a game is never
completely open or closed, but specific elements of a game may make it more
open than closed. A game that might at first glance be considered completely
open is Minecraft (2011). In this game, the player controls an avatar,
is dropped into a large, randomly generated game world and is allowed to do
reshape it in any way he sees fit. The focus lies on mining (wood, ore, etc.)
and use your materials for building. There is no plot (other than the
possibility of defeating a dragon in another dimension), no character
development and no dialogue. The game completely revolves around creating and
thus makes demands upon the player's creativity. This type of game is one that
could easily be described as 'completely open'. However, there are still
countless rules and limitations the player must learn and consider. The phrase
'completely open' suggests that the player could literally do everything within
this game. This is not the case. The blocky textures of the game world cannot
be changed (at least not without heavily 'modding' the game). The player is
thus limited to very specific aesthetics. There are only three types of wood,
each with different shades of brown. If the player would, for instance, want to
build a house made of white wood...he cannot. Countless other examples can be
named, but the point is that even a very open game like Minecraft is, in
the end, in many ways a very closed game. This is something Jenkins is aware of
when he discusses The Sims (2000). He notes that although the
game is incredibly open and allows for many kinds of narratives to emerge, the
game designers have designed the game in such a way that shows they are well
aware of what they have and have not made possible within the game. By giving
the sims their own personalities (allowing them to defy the player's commands),
their own voices and body language, etc. the designers ensure that all choices
lead to friendship, romance and conflict (Jenkins 2004). In this sense, both Minecraft
and The Sims are similar in that they are both incredibly open and
closed and highly structured. However, just because a game can be
simultaneously open and closed, does not mean that these types of games present
a structurally sound combination of open game design and classical narrative. Many
games try to combine the gameplay-related pleasures of an open game world with
a lengthy narrative spanning the entirety of the game and end up suffering from
ludonarrative dissonance (to be explained later).
Emergent
narrative and gameplay. Games that are labeled as containing 'emergent
narrative and gameplay' are games that exhibit several characteristics, but the
most vital are a focus on gameplay mechanics and a lack of lengthy, traditional
narratives taking up a significant portion of the game. The key word here is
'emergent'. The point of these games is that the player utilizes the gameplay
mechanics to create his own experiences and narratives.
Crucially,
the emphasis of these games lies on the player, or rather the human tendency to
construct narratives out of multiple events. This has its roots in psychology. People
tend to reconstruct daily events into narratives, so as to make sense out of
them. This has been explained by figures as Jerome Bruner who explains it as
follows: “[…] we organize our experience and our memory of human happenings
mainly in the form of narrative—stories, excuses, myths, reasons for doing and
not doing, and so on” (4). It is precisely this mechanism of the human mind
that games featuring emergent narratives rely on through vast open gameplay
mechanics.
Terence
Lee notes that for a game to tell a good story, the story is not as important
as the telling of the story. For Lee this means focusing on the unique
aspect of games, namely gameplay. Gameplay is what separates games from other
media, so this train of thought leads us to conclude that gameplay itself
becomes the key to 'good' storytelling for games. He also notes that in games
there are two types of stories, the explicit story and the player story. The
explicit story is the literal story that the designers put into a game. The
player story is:
the
player’s personal experience. As they play through the game, a lot of things
happen in the player’s mind: they
experience a variety of emotions, they develop perceptions and interpretations of characters and
events, and they form relationships between their own actions and the on-screen results. These things all work
together to create a different kind of narrative
experience, one with its own pacing, characters, plot, and dialogue, separate
from the explicit story. (Lee)
What Lee wants is a reversal of the
usual roles. Usually, the player story is made to support the explicit story,
but this is where dissonances arise between the player's experience and the
narrative the game aims to tell. Lee wants the explicit story to support, to be
indistinguishable from, the player story. He refers to a scene from Portal
in which the player character is on a platform being slowly pulled to a huge
burning oven while being told by a disembodied voice that all is well. The
player however has to use his wits, realize he is in danger and escape. Lee
states that here the explicit story and player story are the same, because not
only did the player character use his wits and escape, the player did the same
thing. Lee then compares this scene with one from Tomb Raider in which
Lara is about to be crushed beneath a boulder and the player has to quickly
press a button to escape from harm. Both this scene and the Portal
example deal with the same problem: escaping from harm. But the player story
and explicit story are disconnected in Tomb Raider, because the explicit
story is 'Lara Croft escapes danger through quick reflexes', but the player
story is “you’re watching a cutscene, and suddenly the game tells you to press
a button in an obvious and annoying way, and you are forced to press it under
the punishment of boring repetition” (Lee). Lee wants the explicit story to support
the player story, not the other way around, and he presents games with emergent
narrative and gameplay as a way to achieve this. These games are capable of
centering on the player story, precisely because they do not include an
all-encompassing narrative. Explicit plots in these games are usually
unimportant if not absent. These games instead provide narrative frameworks
through gameplay mechanics to allow the player story to take center stage as
seen in the case of Portal.
Meaningful
gameplay. The notion of meaningful gameplay I will be dealing with here focuses
on the connection between gameplay and a game's plot and themes. In this sense,
gameplay becomes meaningful when it is not simply a part of the game, but when
it has a thematic connection with a game's plot and themes. Gameplay in this
sense has to be shaped in such a way that a game's narrative themes are
supported and enacted through gameplay itself. This presents a possible coming
together of open game design and classical narrative in which a narrative theme
told through gameplay is the main focus. It can be said that if gameplay is
thematically consistent in relation to the narrative themes, then a certain
unity of gameplay and narrative is achieved which can be seen as a way in which
the game shows characteristics of classical narrative which itself requires
thematic consistency. Important here is that this does not represent a complete
merging of open game design and classical narrative, but a focus on how one
element of classical narrative (thematic unity) can be applied to an open video
game in a manner that does not cause any structural tensions between plot and
gameplay.
To
further clarify this concept, I will analyze a type of game that focuses on
both plot and gameplay, but where gameplay is not (narratively)
meaningful: Tomb Raider (again). The gameplay mostly entails exploring
tombs on an island and fighting other survivors. Story-wise, this game is not
just about Lara Croft saving her friends on the island and escaping. Thematically,
the game is an origin story, showing how Lara Croft came to be the tomb raiding
woman as seen in other games in the series. The game's thematic focus is thus
the dehumanization of Lara Croft: how she goes from normal archaeologist to
tomb raider with a penchant for killing. These plot elements are told mostly
through non-interactive cutscenes which are, of course, frequently interrupted
for periods of gameplay. This is where it becomes slowly clear why gameplay
here is not meaningful. The gameplay options – as in, fighting and shooting –
are accessible from the start. The game's thematic focus – Lara's
dehumanization – however is a gradually progressing narrative. Logic dictates
that people who have never taken a life will not be used to the emotional torment
this brings with it. This is a key aspect of the character development Tomb
Raider tries to explore. There are several cutscenes showing Lara
struggling to cope with having taken lives (after she first kills a deer to
gather food and after she first kills a man who threatens her) and it is these
cutscenes that aim to emphasize that Lara's dehumanization is a gradual
process. One would expect that the gameplay would also reflect this somehow
(for example, by at first limiting Lara's killing capabilities), but the player
spends most of the game killing hundreds of survivors in all sorts of
gratuitous ways (headshots, stealth kills, close combat kills are rewarded with
special 'executions' depending on the weapon used). To have gameplay of that
nature on the one hand and a plot on the other hand showing Lara trying to cope
with killing, hesitating to kill, does not make sense. Lavallée recounts this
experience as follows:
I’m
only two hours in now, and I know Lara is supposed to become more powerful and confident, or that she will discover some
inner strength that was in her all along, so maybe at that point the shooting mechanics will make sense, but for now,
they sure feel inappropriate. (2013)
This has been one of the key
complaints about this game and has been touched upon in many other articles and
reviews (for example, Milewski 2013). The main problem is that this aspect of
the game represents a structural imbalance between plot and gameplay. Thus, Tomb
Raider falls short in terms of meaningful gameplay, because the gameplay
does not effectively support the game's main theme, the dehumanization process
of Lara Croft. Although it can be said that it is the player who is forced to
undergo the process of dehumanization and that gameplay is thus still
meaningful, the game’s explicit focus on plot (Lara Croft and her character
development) and the immediate access to violent gameplay mechanics causes the
gameplay to not adequately reflect her dehumanization process. These
structural tensions between narrative and gameplay are often called…
Ludonarrative
dissonance, a term coined by Clint Hocking who uses this term to describe the
dissonance between gameplay and narrative in the video game Bioshock (2007), a game taking place in 1960,
in the underwater city known as Rapture. This city was meant to be a utopia,
but is now ruined after the discovery of a plasmid that grants superhuman
powers. The player controls Jack who arrives there after a plane crashes in the
ocean and is aided by a man named Atlas through a radio. They try to escape by
confronting the city's creator, Ryan, although it is revealed that Atlas is the
real enemy who uses Jack to eliminate Ryan so he can take over Rapture.
Basically,
what the term ludonarrative dissonance means is that the nature of the gameplay
conflicts with the nature of the narrative. This type of conflict goes back to
the debate between the ludologists and the narratologists, but Hocking is the
one who coined the above term. Hocking explains Bioshock's case of ludonarrative
dissonance by stating that the game presents the player with two contracts, a
ludic contract and a narrative contract. The ludic (gameplay) contract tells
the player that it is best to do whatever is in his best interest, “seek power
and you will progress” (Hocking). Hocking states that this fits with the game's
Randian rational self-interest themes and that many single player games in a
sense correspond to these values as most npc's usually impede the player's
progress. In the game, the player encounters Little Sisters, little girls who
are apparently beyond saving, but who the player can 'harvest' to increase his own powers. Basically, the
Randian self-interest themes are expressed through gameplay, because it
presents the player with a scenario in which it is beneficial to 'harvest' the
Little Sisters in terms of gameplay. The narrative contract on the other hand
is that you must help the character Atlas to progress.
Hocking
states three reasons why this creates a conflict with the ludic contract.
Firstly, helping someone else is opposed to the Randian themes of self-interest.
Secondly, Atlas is opposed to Ryan, but “I am philosophically aligned with Ryan
by my acceptance of the mechanics. Why do I want to stop Ryan, or kill him, or
listen to Atlas at all? Ryan’s philosophy is in fact the guiding principle of
the mechanics that I am experiencing through play” (Hocking). Basically, the
narrative puts the player against Ryan while the gameplay aligns you with
Ryan. Thirdly, the player has no choice in the matter. The game's design is
incredibly linear, so even if the player wanted to realize the game's Randian
themes, he could not, because the game is designed in such a way that the
player must help Atlas. One can only act 'Randian' when deciding whether or not
to harvest the Little Sisters, because the game does give the player a choice
in that matter. But if one would want to embrace these Randian themes by
opposing Atlas, then the only option the player has, is stop playing the
game... In short, ludonarrative dissonance is when a game's actual gameplay
conflicts thematically with the game's narrative and its themes.
The ludologists and narratologists. The term
ludonarrative dissonance is closely related to the enduring debates between
ludologists and narratologists. As I said earlier, the ludologists emphasize
gameplay as the key aspect of video games and are interested in studying the
'rules' and mechanics of games, while the narratologists are interested in
studying narratives as a part of games. It is not my intention in this thesis
to criticize or argue that one side is ‘right,’ but the research question
presented here necessitates a discussion of what these groups have said about
the problematic relation between narrative and interactivity when applied to
games. These discussions started in the late 1980s and early 1990s when
“hypertext theoreticians claimed that interactive, computer based media would
bring “a textual medium of a new order…, the fourth great technique of writing
that will take its place beside the ancient papyrus roll, the medieval codex,
and the printed book” (Bolter 1991, qtd. in Simons 2007) The structural
tensions between narrative and gameplay have been analyzed by key figures such
as Henry Jenkins (2004), Ernest Adams (1999), Greg Costikyan (2000) and Jesper
Juul (1999) with Adams saying that “interactivity is almost the opposite of
narrative; narrative flows under the direction of the author, while
interactivity depends on the player for motive power” (1999, qtd. in Jenkins
2004) and Costikyan stating that “there is a direct, immediate conflict between
the demands of a story and the demands of a game. Divergence from a story’s
path is likely to make for a less satisfying story; restricting a player’s
freedom of action is likely to make for a less satisfying game” (Costikyan
2000, qtd. in Jenkins 2004). It is these types of statements that elucidate
some of the structural differences that cause conflicts when attempting to
successfully combine narrative and gameplay.
On
the one hand, the ludologists (ludus being Latin for game) are of the opinion
that games should emphasize what makes them unique, their gameplay and
interactivity. On the other hand, the narratologists, as their name suggests,
are interested in “studying games alongside other storytelling media” (Jenkins
2004). The ludologists then would be interested in reducing the amount of
narrative in games in favor of interesting and well-developed gameplay
mechanics, because the linear story content often does not fit comfortably
within the game and often becomes mere window-dressing. They thus implicitly
reject the notion of analyzing games “through the concerns of pre-existing disciplines or
other media” (2004) though it must be said that ludologists do not disapprove
of narrative content in video games (Frasca 2003). The
narratologists on the other hand have no issue with narrative content in games
and consider games to be new forms of narrative and should thus be analyzed as
such (Murray 1997).
It
is the discussions between ludologists and narratologists that form the
background for this thesis. These debates deal with (among other things) “the conflicts between interactivity
and authorial intent” (Wong 2013); in other words, gameplay and plot. Countless games today (like Tomb
Raider) keep attempting to properly apply plot to a game and many of them keep
suffering from ludonarrative dissonance. In this thesis I use several case
studies to explore how and in what way narrative can be applied to open video
games without causing issues like ludonarrative dissonance. As I will explain
in my conclusion, I see the main question of this thesis as a mathematical one.
Because a complete integration of classical narrative into an open game is
impossible, it becomes a matter of pushing the amount of narrative content in
an open game to its logical extremes: which and how many elements of classical
narrative can be applied to an open game without causing structural problems
between plot and gameplay? In the following chapter I will utilize the various
concepts introduced in this chapter to explore several types of combinations of
plot and gameplay (emergent games, etc.) after which I will make some
concluding remarks about the elements of classical narrative (thematic unity,
etc.) that can be simultaneously applied to an open game without resulting in
ludonarrative dissonance.
The First Compromise: Emergent Narrative and Gameplay
Now that the relevant theory has
been delved into and it has been made clear why achieving a structurally sound
combination of open game design and classical narrative is an important
question that is highly problematic, it is time to discuss my three possible
alternatives to this ‘holy grail.’ This first chapter deals with games that
focus heavily on emergent narrative and gameplay.
As
I have explained in the chapter on theory, these types of video games focus
less on explicit plots and more on gameplay mechanics and the player story.
These games limit the amount of explicit narrative, exposition and context and
prefer presenting the player with an open game world and gameplay mechanics
which offer endless replay value, emphasize creativity on the player's part and
allow for narratives to naturally emerge through gameplay.
I
will heavily reference Terence Lee's article on emergent narratives and use the
three games he uses as case studies in this chapter to further delve into games
with emergent narrative and gameplay. These parts of the chapter will merely be
explanatory, but afterwards I will provide a critique on emergent narrative
from the perspective of classical narrative and analyze why seeing these types
of games as a satisfactory combination of open game design and classical
narrative is problematic.
The first example Lee gives is Journey.
I will copy Lee's usage of the terms ‘explicit story’ and ‘player story’ for
continuity's sake. The explicit story is – as expected – very minimal. You are
a robed figure lost in a desert and trying to get to a bright light shining on
the top of a mountain in the distance. The game was made with online
multiplayer in mind as the player character will meet other players along the
way, also trying to make their way to the top of the mountain.
These two players can then choose to work together to solve puzzles and
progress. It is only possible to communicate with them through body language
and singing (by pressing a button). The narrative focus lies not on the ending
of the game, but on the nonverbal relationship that can develop between two
players. As the title suggests, it is about the journey. Two players might team
up and/or eventually get separated after which they both have to move on their
own. Or they might get separated and one ends up saving the other upon which
they resume their journey together. These are some of the possible narratives
that might 'emerge' naturally through gameplay. Lee emphasizes the fact that
these types of narratives are similar to films, but that they are made more
impactful due to the fact that the player experiences them himself and made
them happen without authorial input: “It happens not because a writer decided
it should, but because of the actions you and your new friend did. You formed
real relationships, felt real emotions, real despair and joy. A scripted
version of the experience would only be a vicarious one; never a genuine,
firsthand one like it is now.” Lee is quick to note that although the designers
did not explicitly create these scenarios, they designed Journey in such
as a way as to emphasize the natural appearance of the narrative themes (the
journey, teamwork, friendship, loss, etc.). Rather than designing an explicit
narrative around these themes, the game allows you to experience them directly
through gameplay which makes the experience more personal as it makes the
player feel he alone is responsible for the unfolding events.
The
second game Lee discusses is Dwarf Fortress, a dwarven kingdom
simulator. The game features an incredible amount of variety. The game's main
mode is Fortress mode in which the player takes control of a small group of
dwarves in order to create a fortress. In order to do this, the player has to
consider the skills and supplies of the dwarves and environmental factors such
as resources (wood, stone and ore) and the geography (cliffs, waterfalls,
beaches, rivers) as these all impact the way the game is played. More
importantly, they influence the emergent narratives. The game deliberately has
a limited visual style (text-only Code Page 437 graphics to be precise). This
is practical in that it drastically reduces the amount of work of the
developers. To create an open game as this with modern-day graphics would be
too much for an independently developed game. However, it also serves a
narrative purpose as Lee notes: “One great aspect of the game is that its
visual simplicity allows your mind to fill in the blanks and assign meaning and
motivation to the details in the game. It’s like how when you read a good book,
your mind naturally creates what the characters look and sound like.” This
visual simplicity and the vast openness of the game ensures a virtually endless
amount of narratives that may naturally emerge through gameplay.
The
third and last game Lee analyzes is Brogue. As with Journey and Dwarf Fortress,
the explicit story is deliberately minimalist. The player character must travel
through a large, randomly generated cave, work his way to the bottom, find an
important artifact and bring it back up. The cave is a dangerous environment,
filled with a large variety of monsters and there are countless variables to be
taken into consideration. As with Dwarf
Fortress, the game features deliberately 'unimpressive' visuals which Lee
notes helps to kick-start the player's imagination.
Importantly, the key to both Dwarf Fortress' and Brogue's
emphasis on emergent narrative lies in their open gameplay mechanics:
However,
the game is filled to the brim with opportunities for the emergence of great player stories. There are complex interactions
between items, enemies, and the environment,
and you always have a myriad of options for dealing with the current situation. Grass catches on fire;
enemies can turn into allies; dropped items can trigger switches. There are so many interactions between individual
elements, yet there are no scripted
sequences. (Lee)
Although the game has a general
narrative goal (retrieve the artifact), everything in between is left up to the
player. This combined with the minimalist graphics and open gameplay mechanics
facilitates emergent narratives.
The
fact that both Dwarf Fortress and Brogue utilize an extremely
minimalist visual style (it does not get more abstract than ASCII) emphasize
that emergent narratives exist in player's minds. The games themselves do not
form explicit stories, the players do and a lack of high definition graphics
will not prevent this from happening. It is precisely this mechanism of the
human mind that games like the above three rely on. It is precisely why Dwarf
Fortress and Brogue present an openly designed game with countless
gameplay mechanics. The high amount of possible events that can occur as an
outcome of all the varying gameplay factors ensures that every experience will
feel new and unique and that the player will inevitably construct a narrative
out of these consecutive events.
All
three of these case studies emphasize what seems to be – and what Lee believes
to be – the major attraction of games featuring emergent narrative and
gameplay: personal, direct experience. In all three examples Lee keeps
emphasizing words like 'exciting', 'impactful' and 'personal' which show that
the importance of any game featuring emergent narrative and gameplay lies not
in any explicit narrative events, but what they mean to the player. It is the
major distinction between the Portal and Tomb Raider examples
mentioned in the chapter on theory. Whereas Tomb Raider employs
cutscenes and quick time events to make the player experience survivalist
tension, Portal makes the experience more personal and direct by not
telling the player what the objective is, but letting the player figure it out
on his own. If the player instinctively manages to escape from harm, the
narrative itself becomes more personal, precisely because the player feels he did
it on his own. The key aspect is the emphasis on personal experience, the
notion that non-scripted events are more personal and impactful than scripted
ones.
But
herein lies the major flaw when looking at emergent narrative and
gameplay through notions of classical narrative. From a classical perspective, in
what ways can these 'player experiences' be considered narratives? Lee is of
the opinion that they are indeed narratives, stating that people will often
tell their experiences to others in the form of stories. He then gives an
example of someone telling how he aimed to beat a friend's high score in Tetris
and that he got a line piece at the last second which allowed him to beat the
high score (2013). This in itself can indeed be called a personal, thrilling
experience, but in a classical sense they satisfy too few criteria to be
considered classical narratives.
When
considering what a classical narrative is, one does not immediately think of a
small linear experience as the Tetris example. These types of
experiences do possess several elements of narratives. They contain a main
character and a clear goal (the one playing Tetris wants to beat the
high score), rising tension as the action unfolds as seen in Freytag's Pyramid
(when the player thinks he will fail), an exciting turning point and a climax
which again reference Freytag's structure (when, at the last second, the player
gets a line piece and is able to beat the high score). But a narrative also
contains other things, like themes, thematic unity, thematic complexity. In
other words, many well-respected narratives are usually lengthy and 'about
something'. HBO's TV series The Wire is very expansive with countless
characters and, thematically, analyzes the roles individuals play within their
respective institutions and, as creator David Simon explains it, “how
institutions have an effect on individuals” (Honig 2012). An emergent
'narrative' like the Tetris example fails from this perspective. It is
hard to imagine any game with emergent narrative to have such thematic depth
without resorting to scripted events. The Tetris example might be
considered a narrative, but it is unlikely to be elevated to anything higher
('art') simply because it lacks the thematic complexity to say something
meaningful about a certain topic. To refer again to The Wire, that
entire narrative is not simply a series of causally linked events, but also a
series of highly nuanced analyses of individuals and institutions in modern
society. The Tetris example is indeed a narrative, albeit a microcosmic
one and one that in the end arguably says nothing beyond ‘event x happened and
it was exciting'. Although Journey utilizes its open multiplayer-focused
gameplay mechanics to deal with themes of friendship, teamwork, loss, etc. it
does not deal with these themes in any intellectual way beyond that of making
the player experience them directly without any scripted, authorial input. It
cannot critically engage with these themes. It can only make them be experienced
directly by the player. In short, from the perspective of classical narrative
the failings of emergent narratives can be summarized as follows: yes, emergent
narratives are indeed narratives, but they only exhibit a few characteristics
of classical narratives. Also, they are mostly incredibly short and are
arguably incapable of being seen as 'artistic' (as they lack thematic
complexity), as something more than merely personal 'experiences'. Crucially,
this is a direct consequence of precisely what makes emergent narratives unique,
namely the lack of an authorial figure and the chaotic randomness which allow
for emergent narratives to emerge. It is precisely this randomness and the lack
of an author figure that both allow emergent narratives to emerge and prohibit
them from being considered 'true' narratives, i.e. narratives that can be seen
as 'artistic' and 'have something meaningful to say' about a certain topic.
This
realization allows us to answer the question posited in this chapter: do video
games featuring emergent narratives provide an acceptable compromise to the
question of whether or not open games can be satisfactorily combined with
classical narratives? The answer is no, because too few elements of classical
narratives are satisfyingly represented in emergent narratives. Technically it
can be stated that games with emergent narratives combine open game design with
classical, linear narratives through the small personal narratives the player
experiences, since these experiences definitely qualify as narratives.
But the fact remains that these types of narratives lack important elements of
classical narratives, such as thematic unity, unity-in-variety, thematic
complexity and depth which is another way of saying emergent narratives lack
the complexity to be considered classical narratives. The critique here is not
that emergent narratives are not narratives, they are, but that from a
classical perspective, it can be argued that open video games featuring
emergent narratives present a problematic combination of open game design and elements
of classical narratives, because they lack authorial intent, which can only be
showcased through carefully planned, structured game design, thematic unity,
thematic complexity, unity-in-variety, etc.
The Second Compromise: Meaningful Gameplay
My second compromise, like the
previous chapter on emergent narrative and gameplay, also focuses mostly on
gameplay; the angle however is different. Whereas in the previous chapter I
employed the linearity and rigid structures of classical narrative to analyze
and critique video games featuring emergent narrative and gameplay, here the
focus lies on the importance of themes in classical narrative. This
chapter is devoted to games featuring 'meaningful gameplay.' As explained in
the chapter covering the theoretical framework of this thesis, meaningful
gameplay is about a thematic connection between gameplay and a game's plot and
themes. Gameplay in this sense has to be shaped in such a way that a game's
theme(s) are supported and enacted through gameplay itself.
This kind of coming together between
narrative and gameplay presents one way of combining open game design with
elements of classical narrative, because gameplay and narrative achieve a
specific (thematic) unity here and in classical narrative, thematic unity and
consistency is an important characteristic. Importantly, as explained in the
chapter on theory, if there exists a tension between narrative and gameplay,
wherein the narrative and its themes are not properly represented through gameplay,
then the term ludonarrative dissonance is employed to describe this tension.
This
chapter on meaningful gameplay will use Far Cry 3, an open-world game,
as its main case study. I will analyze why it can be seen to have meaningful
gameplay, how it has thematic unity and thematic consistency in relation to the
narrative themes and, finally, why the game can thus be seen as a possible
answer to the 'holy grail', an acceptable combination of classical narrative
and open game design.
Far
Cry 3 is an open world, first person shooter video game where the player
controls Jason Brody who is captured by pirates on a tropical island after his
skydiving trip with his friends has gone awry. The narrative goal of the game
is for Brody to escape from the pirates, save his friends and escape the
island. Although he escapes the pirate camp in the beginning of the game, his
older brother is killed in the process. He eventually finds his girlfriend and
another friend in a cave nearby which becomes their hiding place as Jason tries
to locate his remaining friends. He is initiated into the local tribe, the
Rakyat, led by a woman called Citra, who agree to help him find his friends in
exchange for help in fighting the local pirates. He succeeds in saving some of
his friends, but is told that his younger brother, Riley, has died. Fueled by
anger, he becomes more eager to help the Rakyat, use violence and also refuses
to escape the island with his friends. Towards the end, after the pirates and
the local slave traders have disbanded, Jason finds out the Rakyat have taken
his friends. Citra, seeing Jason as legendary warrior who would be invaluable
to her warrior tribe, drugs him and tries to convince him to slay his friends
and join her. The player has to make this decision: to either kill his friends
and stay with the tribe which leads to Jason having sex with Citra who then
kills him afterwards (she will birth his son, etc.) or free his friends which
leads to Citra being killed in the confusion after which he escapes the island
with his friends by boat.
Like
Tomb Raider, as described in the chapter on theory, this game's core
narrative theme is exploring the process of dehumanization and how Jason
gradually becomes used to killing. Like Tomb Raider however, this game
also falls victim to ludonarrative dissonance for the exact same reasons.
Basically, the plot tries to show this process through small (sometimes
interactive) cutscenes and dialogue. The gameplay however gives you access to
all kinds of violent techniques right from the start. This dissonance requires more
analysis.
The
dehumanization process starts at the beginning of the game. You (and your
in-game older brother, Grant) try to escape the pirate-infested camp. It is
here the player discovers through dialogue that the player-controlled Jason is
terrified whereas his brother Grant, being an Army Reserve Soldier, is able to
coolly kill pirates and calm Jason down afterwards. It is clear that Grant is
the experienced one and Jason the inexperienced one, unused to violence and
killing. This sets the stage for his character development. The gamer knows
that Jason will have to learn how to kill soon, because the game eventually
allows you to explore the island and basically kill everything that crosses
your path. Grant is eventually shot by one of the pirates. You desperately try
to escape, but you are ambushed by one of the pirates who tries to kill you
with a knife. Jason (with the gamer’s help) deflects his attack and kills him
with the knife. Jason is shocked and his hands are shaking, having for the
first time in his life been forced to kill a man. This also, along with his
terrified reactions to his brother killing pirates, tells the player that Jason
is unused to being so close to violence and death.
He
eventually escapes by falling into a river, faints and wakes up in a
normal-looking village. The player finds out Jason was saved by a man named
Dennis who is part of the Rakyat tribe. This tribe is in danger of being wiped
out by the pirates. Jason agrees to a quid pro quo: help the Rakyat
retake their island on the condition he is aided in finding his friends. The
first thing Jason does for Dennis and the Rakyat is skin certain animals. This
is basically a tutorial explaining the usefulness of skinning animals in terms
of gameplay, but it creates a problem in terms of character development. With
our knowledge of past events and Jason’s lack of experience in skinning
animals, one would suspect this process will be new, frightening and difficult
for Jason. But when you attack the boar with a gun or knife, Jason confidently
says “I’ve got you.” He also utters a resound “Yes” after you kill said boar.
These actions do not fit the ‘civilized, white man lost in the primitiveness of
the jungle’ theme of the story. One moment Jason's hands are shaking after
killing a human being for the first time, now he is killing and skinning a boar
as if he has been doing this his entire life. This is a clear disruption
between plot and gameplay. Going into the game, the player is most likely aware
it is an open world first person shooter, so he can expect to eventually have
access to various kinds of weapons, etc. The problem in terms of plot is that
this early in the game, Jason is still an amateur when it comes to ‘the ways of
the jungle’ and ‘listening to your instincts’. To then see him killing and
skinning animals without a shred of doubt and without making any mistakes, is
unrealistic.
Afterwards,
Jason is told by Dennis that one of the Rakyat’s camps has been captured by pirates.
They ride to a safe spot just outside the outpost with a few other members of
the Rakyat. You suspect that Jason will receive help taking over the camp, but
amazingly, Jason is sent alone into the camp being told that they will come to
his aid if they hear gunfire. So you are expected to take out a handful of
pirates who are armed to the teeth, with merely a knife and a handgun. Again,
this is highly unlikely given the fact that Jason is not an experienced killer
and that the members of the Rakyat have assault rifles and are said to be
‘warriors.’ You are given control over Jason again and allowed to kill the
pirates however you please. The strikingly unrealistic aspect in terms of
ludonarrative dissonance here is that while the player controls him here, Jason
shows absolutely no remorse in killing in stark contrast to when he first
killed. Not only that, he handles a knife like a professional, ramming it
through enemy torsos and slitting throats without hesitation. The problem from
a plot point-of-view is that the player is led to believe Jason has become a
cold-blooded killer overnight.
There
is also the problem of the ending. After saving all of Jason’s friends and
killing your enemies, the player discover the Rakyat have captured your
friends. Citra, who sees the future of the Rakyat in Jason, wants Jason to let
go of his ties to others and kill his friends. The player can choose this
ending or rescue your friends and leave the island with them. The problem is
when you choose to save your friends. Citra is shocked that Jason would return
to his ‘boring’ life, abandoning greatness in the process. He responds by
throwing his knife away and saying: “This violence is over. I’m done. No
more blood.” (It is the only point in the game where the player is given
complete control over Jason and by complete, I mean control over both his
actions and his choices and decisions.) The problem lies not in choosing to
save Jason’s friends (of course), but what this means in terms of character
development in relation to Jason’s past actions. When one realizes that Jason
has had to kill countless pirates and animals over the course of the entire
game, Jason suddenly deciding to 'come to his moral senses' seems implausible. The
player is not given access to Jason’s mind here either, so the player is
supposed to accept his sudden moral change, this new part of his character
development simply because the player picked that option.
Thinking
about solving this discrepancy between plot and gameplay leads to the familiar
conflicts that arise between the player-focused pleasures of open game design
on the one hand and the linear, non-player-focused requirements of plot on the
other. If one solution might be to lengthen the dehumanization process by
adding extra missions and story elements like cutscenes, then this would most
likely aggravate the players waiting impatiently for the game to ‘open up’ and
allow them the freedom to do whatever they want. Another possible solution
however, would be to let the player (and thus Jason’s) actions have more
consequences. Instead of having the player choose whether to save your
friends or join Citra at the end, let the game decide. Why not have the game
keep track of your actions throughout the game? Then, depending on your play
style, you would get the corresponding ending. If your kill count is enormous
by the game’s ending, Jason would be too far gone, act on his impulses and kill
his friends. If your kill count is low, Jason will still have some semblance of
humanity and save his friends. This would allow your/Jason's actions throughout
the entire game to impact the choice Jason makes at the end and would make this
last part of his character development less problematic.
Far
Cry 3 however is not designed this way and is unable to balance plot and
gameplay, leading to ludonarrative dissonance. This is ironic, because Far
Cry 3’s lead designer, Jamie Keen, aimed for a successful, meaningful
marriage between plot and gameplay:
Keen
told the Penny Arcade Report a major design philosophy of Far Cry 3
has been the marriage of
narrative and game play. Look at the skill tree system: As you play and gain
XP, you’ll be able to turn those
points into perks, such as faster reloads, decreased weapon recoil, or better scavenging results. The
trees are named after animals: The Heron, The Shark,
and The Spider. Each time you choose a perk from the skill tree, your arm gains tattoos. The more Jason follows “the
path of the warrior,” the more tribal he becomes. The more the island leaves its mark. (Prell 2012)
The narrative is thematically mostly
about Jason’s dehumanization, but the gameplay does not fully reflect this,
with Jason capable of going on killing sprees when in the hands of the player
during which Jason does not reflect on what he is doing at all. Reading Keen’s
last line in the above quote makes me interested in what could have been a
successful blend of plot and gameplay. Instead, the amount of tattoos Jason
gets, means little in the end, since the player ultimately gets to choose between
two endings, regardless of the amount of tattoos, thus disregarding the plot's
focus on and logical development of Jason's dehumanization. In terms of
gameplay, the tattoos can be said to only reflect the amount of experience
points the player has earned.
And
yet...it is precisely the symbolism behind these tattoos and the above quote in
general that lead me to claim that a case can still be made for a partially
successful marriage of classical narrative and open game design and gameplay in
Far Cry 3. This connection has to do with the main narrative themes of
the game which are, as seen in Keen's quote, 'following the path of the
warrior' and, put more generally, 'becoming one with the jungle.' As explained
in the earlier chapter devoted to theory, one of the key elements of classical
narrative is the existence of a unity of themes and I believe that the game's
aforementioned themes are consistently reflected in its gameplay despite its
inherent openness. Because of the open nature of the game design and its
gameplay, the player can do various things whenever he pleases: take over bases
inhabited by pirates and liberate them for the Rakyat, hunt rare animals,
purchase items and weapons, find rare artifacts, explore caverns, play poker,
etc. This openness already ensures the game does not fit being called a
classical narrative in the strictest sense (i.e. linear plot progression,
linear game design and having a clear beginning, middle and end). However Far
Cry 3's openness does not mean its gameplay cannot symbolize the plot's
themes. Story themes differ from game to game, but in Far Cry 3, the
themes of 'following the path of the warrior' and 'becoming one with the
jungle' are reflected in its gameplay. The player spends most of the game
hunting pirates and animals, combat being the game's primary game mechanic.
Because the game's main themes are Jason's dehumanization and his 'getting in
touch with his tribal side,' the freedom and openness of the game and the
violence Jason/the player performs, all symbolize these narrative themes. The
gameplay even incorporates the symbolism of the tattoos to try to circumvent
the ludonarrative dissonance as described earlier. Even though the open
gameplay prevents a logical, coherent development of Jason's character, the
tattoos symbolize his dehumanization even when the plot does not. To quickly
contrast this with a fictitious example, a game focusing on themes like
corruption in religious institutions and in which you fight various monsters
most likely has no meaningful gameplay, gameplay that is thematically connected
to the narrative theme. Fighting alien monsters has no thematic connection to
friendship as a theme. In Far Cry 3 however, there is meaningful
gameplay, gameplay that has a clear thematic connection to the game's narrative
themes. As I reasoned in the opening of this chapter, if gameplay is
thematically consistent with the plot's themes, then a certain unity of
gameplay and plot has been achieved which in itself can be seen as a way in
which the game shows characteristics of classical narrative which itself
requires a unity of themes and thematic consistency. Far Cry 3 succeeds
in this aspect, because of its meaningful gameplay that is thematically
connected to the game's narrative themes and thus represents a moderately
successful union of specific elements of classical narrative and open game
design.
The Third Compromise: Mass Effect
Over the course of the past two chapters, I have gone on to discuss two
possible answers to the question whether or not open game design can be
satisfactorily combined with classical narrative. In this third and final
chapter, I will discuss one other answer to this question, an answer that is
closely related to the previous chapter and its focus on themes and thematic unity.
Instead of dealing with multiple case studies, this chapter will only contain
one video game (series) to explicate the way the holy grail can be attained:
the Mass Effect series of video
games. First, there will be short section introducing these video games. Then I
will recapitulate the theory relevant to this chapter (themes, unity-of-themes
and unity-in-variety) after which I will apply it to the Mass Effect series and explain how this represents a possible
satisfactory alternative to combining open game design and classical narrative.
Crucially, although the Mass Effect games are not truly ‘open’
games and can more easily be termed ‘nonlinear,’ the things I will be focusing
on in relation to the possible combination of open game design and classical narrative
are elements that can easily be applied to an open game like Far Cry 3. That game lacks something the
Mass Effect series has: thematic
unity and unity-in-variety in its missions (Far Cry 3 had thematic unity in its open gameplay, but not
its missions). By explaining how the Mass
Effect series has thematic unity and unity-in-variety in its missions
despite its nonlinearity, I will draw the conclusion that thematically varied
and unified missions can also be applied to open games like Far Cry 3 despite their inherent
openness, thus creating yet another possible combination of open game design
and classical narrative. I will come back to this.
The Mass Effect series currently consists of three video
games developed by Canadian game developer BioWare. These games do not
neatly fit into one video game genre, instead being part role-playing game and
part third person shooter. The science-fiction story told over the course of
these three games centers around Commander Shepard whom the player controls and
a supposedly extinct alien race, the Reapers, threatening Earth and the galaxy.
Shepard is part of a group of soldiers sent to recover an item of importance on
a planet. Once there however, the mission changes and Shepard is promoted to
Spectre, an elite force of soldiers who are in many ways above the law and only
have to answer directly to the Council, a body of governments made up of
various alien races. They discover that a Spectre, Saren, has betrayed his
order and Shepard is to find him and bring him to justice. This eventually
leads to the discovery, though Shepard is unable to convince the Council, that
the ancient race called Reapers will appear and harvest all advanced forms of
life. The reason Saren joins them is to hopefully save the races by demonstrating
their usefulness. This proves futile however and over the course of the three
games, Shepard/the player must prepare and find a way to neutralize the Reaper
threat. Although this is a synopsis of the main story, there are also countless
side missions that flesh out the plot, the game world and its characters.
An important part of all three games
is the focus on player choice. The player is able to customize the appearance
of ‘his/her’ Shepard (this includes gender) at the beginning of the game and is
also able to choose Shepard’s responses during conversation though there are
times when Shepard automatically responds. The way the player has Shepard
respond more often than not influences the following: non-player characters’
opinions of Shepard and the outcomes of missions (whether the goals are
achieved or not, the short/long-term implications of Shepard’s actions, who
lives and dies, etc.). So, although there is a main plot in the series, the
player is allowed narrative freedom in that he/she can create and customize
his/her ‘own’ Shepard and make Shepard act in a certain way over the course of
three games, hugely influencing the outcomes of not only the main plot, but
also many side missions and the lives of non-player characters.
The theory relevant to this chapter
consists of three notions: themes, thematic unity and unity-in-variety.
Although these terms have been discussed in the chapter devoted to theory, a
quick summary of these terms might be useful. Themes are what the story is
'really' about, the 'main points' of the events in the plot, as described
earlier by Layne and Lewis (2009). The plot can be described as a series of
events related by cause and effect, but the themes are what these events
symbolize. Thematic unity is the notion that a work of fiction needs to ensure
that he limits the amount of themes in the narrative. If the events come to
symbolize too many themes, the work then might become too grand to be able to
tell its story in an effective way. Unity-in-variety is related to thematic
unity. It entails that a work of fiction dealing with one theme in very similar
ways will become stale quick. The author has to be sure that he explores the
theme in similar but varying ways to avoid repetition.
After
analyzing many missions in the Mass
Effect series, one theme that returned time and again was the theme of
‘free will.’ I will analyze several plot arcs and missions from all three games
that feature this theme. I will not discuss player choice in this regard,
because free will seems hardly applicable to a set of choices that are in the
end all pre-designed. I will thus focus not on the role of the player, but on
the plot and characters. First of all, Saren, the Spectre who went rogue. He at
first claims to have consciously decided to join the Reapers in order to prove
humans’ and aliens’ usefulness and ensure their survival through servitude.
Here the theme of free will is already apparent. Saren believes that survival
through servitude is preferable to extinction through free will. It soon
becomes clear however that Saren is being indoctrinated, spouting his misguided
beliefs under the illusion that it was his own opinion. Saren has thus been
robbed of his free will. When Shepard (if the player so chooses) enlightens
Saren and makes him see the error in his ways, Saren thanks Shepard before
killing himself. What Saren thanking Shepard means is that Saren no longer
indoctrinated, has his free will back and, unable to live with his past
actions, is able to kill himself precisely because he himself made that
decision. The theme of free will plays a role here in that while first
preferring servitude, the loss of free will, above extinction, Saren eventually
prefers the opposite: extinction whilst possessing free will.
Another
example is the conflict between the alien race known as Quarians and the
synthetic robots created by them, the Geth. Although created to serve the
Qaurians, the Geth started ‘thinking’ about notions of free will and eventually
rebelled against their creators. Many Quarians believe that free will is
inapplicable to synthetic ‘life,’ because they were created merely to serve and
because free will does not apply to artificial intelligence (notions of which
go back to, for example, HAL 9000 in Stanley Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey, an artificial intelligence system that
rebels against its creators despite being made to serve). So, whereas the
character of Saren was used to deal with the concept of free will in the
following way, free will and extinction versus servitude and life, the
Quarian-Geth conflict engages with the concept of free will by applying it to
artificial intelligence.
One
such side mission where this notion of free will appears, is called 'Legion: A
House Divided' in Mass Effect 2. You
are joined by a Geth called Legion who informs Shepard that a lot of Geth have
turned into 'Heretics,' Geth that have convinced themselves to join the Reapers
and turn on organic life. These heretic Geth are spreading a virus amongst the
Geth to 'rewrite' them and make them all join the heretic Geth. You and Legion
infiltrate a space station to stop this from happening. Towards the end of the
mission, Legion informs you that there are two options: rewriting (a.k.a.
'brainwashing') the heretic Geth and thereby having them on the side of the
Geth that are in favor fighting the Reapers or destroying (a.k.a. 'killing')
them. Not only does free will as a theme appear in relation to artificial
intelligence (how can artificial intelligence possess free will?), but this
missions also deals with brainwashing in relation to free will. These heretic
Geth have themselves chosen to help the Reapers. Is it morally acceptable to
simply rewrite their code and make them abandon their ideas even if they are
only synthetics? When choosing to rewrite the heretics, you are basically
taking away their free will. Of course, this thesis is not interested in
answering these questions, but merely stating here that the Mass Effect series deals with free will
in various ways.
Another
variation on the theme of free will is seen in the race called the Krogan, a
species capable of being described as large reptilian warriors. The Krogan were
accepted into galactic society and helped a great deal during specific wars,
but they started to spread rapidly across the galaxy, annexing other races'
territories. Tensions grew and war broke out. After a lot of conflict, a
scientifically inclined race, the Salarians, were hired to find a solution to
the Krogan threat. They invented the Genophage, a bio-weapon which produced a
genetic mutation in the Krogan that would result in only one out of a thousand
births being successful. This of course drastically reduced the amount of
Krogan and it would also instill in them a hatred for the Salarians and the
others that made the Genophage possible. In short, the Krogan were robbed of
their free will. Over the course of three games, the player learns about this
enduring conflict and eventually has a hand in either undoing the Genophage,
ensuring a rise in Krogan births, or leaving the Genophage intact. The concept
of free will is dealt here in the sense that the game asks the following
questions: must the sons pay for the sins of their fathers? Must an entire race be robbed of their free will
and evolutionary and technological progress because of a threat they might
pose in the future?
It
is safe to say that free will is a highly important recurring theme in the Mass Effect series. Not only does this
mean Mass Effect possesses a
considerable degree of thematic unity in this regard, it also has
unity-in-variety, because it engages with the concept of free will in different
ways as seen in the examples above. What this means is that nonlinearity does
not structurally forbid thematic unity and unity-in-variety. The games very much
emphasize player choice and nonlinearity as key selling points. However,
through its (side) missions it is still able to tell stories that are
thematically unified, whilst still containing enough variety that it does not
literally tell the same thematic story twice, but variants on the theme of free
will. When comparing Mass Effect to
other open, nonlinear games, it becomes clear how easily thematic unity and
unity-in-variety can be sacrificed in the name of open game design. Another
game, The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim for
example (a first/third person action, roleplaying, open world game), has
countless missions, but very few (if any) display thematic unity. Besides its
main story that tells a continuing story over the course of several missions,
its side missions feature little in terms of (interesting) plots. Many missions
are structured in the form of fetch quests wherein the player is asked to
retrieve an important item hidden away in a dangerous dungeon filled with
monsters. Once the player brings back the item, the mission is over. Such
missions display no thematic unity, precisely because there are no narrative
themes present in quests of this kind. In Mass
Effect on the other hand, thematic unity and unity-in-variety are
maintained and achieved despite the countless (side) missions and nonlinear
structure.
This
is because nonlinearity does not necessarily mean that games cannot display
thematic unity and unity-in-variety. When judging nonlinear and open games in
terms of classical linear narrative structures (clear beginning, middle and
end), then these games become problematic. But thematic unity and
unity-in-variety can exist outside of these linear structures. In the case of Mass Effect, the nonlinear structure and
emphasis on player choice mean that the player can choose whether or not to
accept certain side missions and choose how these missions will play out. This
structurally excludes an overall clear beginning-middle-end structure, but the
narrative themes can still be displayed regardless of what missions the player
chooses and regardless of the choices the player makes during the missions. One
can still state that a set of missions all deal with a similar theme regardless
of the choices available to the player. Even if one player chooses to undo the
Genophage while the other chooses to leave the Genophage untouched, the theme
of free will remains. This is why a nonlinear structure can display thematic
unity and unity-in-variety.
Now
the next step: thematic unity and unity-in-variety in open games.
Although I do not have a clear case study here, I am prepared to state that if
thematic unity and unity-in-variety can be satisfactorily displayed in
nonlinear games, then they can also be satisfactorily displayed in open games.
What the Mass Effect series has shown
is that despite its nonlinear structure, the theme of free will keeps returning
throughout its plot and missions in all three games. One can therefore state
that an open game such as Far Cry 3
could also display thematic unity and unity-in-variety through its (side)
missions. The problem is that the side missions in Far Cry 3 are extremely light in terms of plot and lack thematic
unity. One side mission (‘Cargo Dump’) has the player taking pictures of
package barcodes for someone who claims it is the only way to get his daughter
back from aliens. Once you have taken all pictures, the mission is
automatically over and no ending to the plot is provided. Another side mission
(‘Faces of Death’) has the player taking pictures of dead pirates for someone
who wants to use them to convince the locals that it is possible to rise up
against the pirates. Yet another side mission (‘Father’s Burden’) starts with
one of the locals asking you to retrieve three important items he lost when his
ship crashed and was taken by pirates. After you retrieve the items for him, he
pays you and the mission is over. One last example. The side mission called
‘Light at the End of the Jungle’ starts with the player being asked by a woman
to spy on her husband because she thinks he is cheating on her. After doing so,
the player realizes that he is cheating on her…with another man. The player
then has to choose between confronting the husband or telling the wife. These
side missions have no thematic unity and more often than not serve as nothing
more than fetch quests, quests that usually contain little to no narrative
context. So, whereas Mass Effect used
many of its (side) missions to deal with variations on the theme of free will,
the side missions in Far Cry 3 do not
serve the same purpose of varying on the main theme of ‘discovering your inner
warrior’ and ‘mastering the ways of the jungle.’
Before
moving on the conclusion, I would like to end this chapter by suggesting a
combination of the thematic unity in Far
Cry 3’s gameplay as analyzed in the previous chapter and the thematic unity
and unity-in-variety seen in Mass Effect
3 in this chapter. In the previous chapter I used Far Cry 3 to claim that despite its openness, the gameplay
still possessed thematic unity, because most of the player’s actions in the
open game world could be seen as reflecting the game’s main theme. In this
chapter I used the Mass Effect series
to claim that despite its nonlinearity many of its missions dealt with
variations on the same theme in terms of plot. So both games possess thematic
unity and unity-in-variety, but in different ways: the Mass Effect series has it in its plot and (side) missions and Far Cry 3 has it in its gameplay. It
would thus seem logical to suggest that an open game that included a lot of
(side) missions would be able to combine the two, to possess thematic unity and
unity-in-variety both in its missions and in its gameplay. This way, an
arguably improved combination of open game design and elements of classical
narrative (a.k.a. the ‘holy grail’) would be achieved, because such a game
would include the best of both worlds, so to speak. Instead of only possessing
thematic unity and unity-in-variety in either missions or gameplay, such a game
would have both. One could thus argue that Far
Cry 3 could have been such a game if its side missions were designed in a
way that they would possess greater thematic unity and unity-in-variety.
Conclusion
I have attempted to explore several
possible ways of reaching that penultimate holy grail, the search for a structurally
sound combination of open game design and classical narrative. The first
conclusion that was reached, all the way back in the introduction, was that a
applying a huge narrative to an open world game, while often attempted, is impractical
since telling a story over the duration of an open game is structurally
problematic. Games that have attempted this, even the ones that were critically
and commercially successful like Red Dead Redemption, were only capable
of creating a problematic interplay between open world gameplay and the linear
telling of a story. These games allow you the freedom to play the main story
missions whenever you want and allow you to explore the game world between
those missions. Although you could technically tell an interesting story while
simultaneously giving the player access to a large open game world with a great
amount of replay value, this type of storytelling is structurally problematic
since every time you (the player character) choose to explore the game world
you ignore the main storyline and it is this that can immediately results in
improper storytelling.
This can be explained with a simple example: Red Dead Redemption, an open world game with a
large storyline. In one story mission the player character finds out where the
villain's secret lair is located. The player character realizes he has to
hurry, because he only has a limited amount of time before the villain launches
a nuclear weapon. A simple scenario, but one that becomes problematic if you
can freely explore the game world after this mission. In a linear story, it
would make sense for the main character to immediately progress to the
villain's lair, but an open world game would most likely grant the player the
ability to explore the game world between every mission. Obviously if there
exists a continuing narrative tension between several missions, as described
above, then the very act of exploring the game world and deciding when to
progress with the storyline would be highly problematic from a storytelling
point of view. Other similar examples can be named, but the conclusion remains
the same: it is impossible to apply an entire narrative over the course of a
nonlinear, open world game without causing problems in terms of proper
storytelling.
This
led me to the next conclusion. Since spreading a narrative over the entire
course of a nonlinear, open world game is impractical, then the focus must lie
on not applying entire narratives, but specific elements of classical narratives. This was the focus of the
three preceding chapters: to take specific aspects of classical narratives and
use several case studies to see if and how they present structurally sound
combinations of elements of classical narratives and open game design.
The
first chapter dealt with emergent narratives. Specifically, it dealt with how
the narratives that take shape in the player's minds take center stage. A game
can present little in the way of explicit narratives, but through open game design
and meticulously designed gameplay mechanics the player will automatically
reconstruct his experiences as narratives. Although these experiences qualified
as narratives, they still satisfied too few criteria of classical narratives
for these types of games to be considered the solution to the problem of a
successful combination of open game design and classical narrative. This came
down the fact that these narratives were essentially experiences and as such,
as seen in the case studies and Terence Lee's examples and quotes, never rose
to something 'higher', as in 'art'. These experiences can indeed be seen as
narratives, but the main appeal lies in the fact that they are directly
experienced as something that the player caused as opposed to the player merely
'experiencing' a scripted event. These experiences are definitely narratives,
but are too short and simple to be considered anything 'more'. They lack
thematic unity and complexity and are not narratives that say something about a
certain topic with a considerable degree of complexity. In the end, these
experiences are narratives that are summarized as 'this happened and it was
exciting'.
The
second chapter dealt with meaningful gameplay and themes. Using Far Cry 3
as a case study I aimed to show how, despite the ludonarrative dissonance, Far
Cry 3 showcased meaningful gameplay. Although the plot itself clashed in
several ways with the gameplay, in terms of narrative themes, the gameplay and
plot were seen to support each other quite well. The gameplay consisted mostly
of violent acts, against both human enemies and animals. Since the main theme
of the game was 'learning the ways of the warrior' and 'mastering the jungle',
every violent act the player performed, whether it was in the service of the plot
or during freely exploring the game world, symbolized these narrative themes.
In a game like this, even if it is an open world game, most if not all gameplay
options would cover the same thematic territory. This presented a very specific
combination of open game design and classical narrative, namely open game
design and narrative themes. Even if other criteria of classical narratives
were not satisfied in Far Cry 3 (causing ludonarrative dissonance), plot
and gameplay were aligned at least in terms of themes.
The
third and final chapter offered a continuation of chapter two and its focus on
narrative themes. But whereas the second chapter highlighted gameplay as a
meeting ground between classical narrative and open game design, the third
chapter focused on story missions in nonlinear, open games. Using the Mass
Effect series of games as case studies, I showed how despite its vast
nonlinear mission structure, many missions still dealt with the theme of free
will. What this showed is that even a game series like Mass Effect that
focuses so much on nonlinearity and player choice, thematic consistency is
still possible by ensuring that countless deal with the same narrative theme
(thematic unity) and, to prevent unnecessary repetition, deal with the theme in
different ways (unity-in-variety). So whereas the second chapter focused on
thematically meaningful gameplay, the third chapter focused on thematically
unified and varied story missions in nonlinear games.
The
only logical conclusion that I can arrive at after these analyses is something
I hinted at near the end of chapter three where I said that Far Cry 3's
thematically consistent open gameplay could be combined with Mass Effect 3's
thematically consistent story missions. This would result in an open world game
that not only had thematically consistent open gameplay, but also thematically
unified story missions. As I said at the end of chapter three, thematically
unified missions is where Far Cry 3 failed, especially in comparison to
the missions in the Mass Effect series. If Far Cry 3 had side
missions that did not simply feel like uninteresting fetch quests, but actually
had interesting plots (something more than a non-player character telling you
to retrieve object x and y for him) which also linked to the game's main
themes, then it would have open gameplay and side missions that all dealt with
the main themes in various interesting ways.
In the end, these
trains of thought lead back to the basis of this entire thesis: that if linear
plots are to be combined with open game design, then it is not a matter of
perfectly combining classical narrative with open game design (since that is
impossible), but applying as many elements of classical narrative to
open game design as possible. The question thus becomes mathematical. How many
elements of classical narrative can be applied to a nonlinear, open video game
without causing structural problems between the two? As I explained earlier, an
open game can easily include thematically consistent gameplay and thematically
cohesive missions without causing any structural issues.
Also, while a linear plot spread out
over an entire open game will prove inevitably problematic, such a linear plot
can be applied over the course of one single story mission without the usual
problems arising. However, games that include these types of standalone
missions tend to be similar to Red Dead
Redemption in structure. A single mission may work in terms of its
combination of plot and gameplay, but on the whole, issues like ludonarrative
dissonance can still appear. During a few of the final missions in Red Dead Redemption, John Marston, the
player character, is reunited with wife and son. Instead of constant violence
exhibited in all its previous missions, the player now has to do simple tasks
while John interacts with his family. This slow-paced gameplay fits
thematically with the plot at that point. However, the rest of the game can
still be said to suffer from ludonarrative dissonance, because the plot focuses
on John Marston’s quest for absolution, while the gameplay is almost wholly
comprised of killing people. So, a linear plot applied over the course of one
(or a few) story missions is only a partial solution.
The way I've come to
understand it after delving into these issues over the course of this thesis,
is that the complete integration of classical narrative in an open game is too
problematic. Why? Because the moment the player does something that is not relevant
to the plot, plot suffers in the name of open gameplay. This is what the Red
Dead Redemption example shows. Even the simple of act of walking in a
different direction (as opposed to the direction the player is supposed to go
to advance the plot) is a moment where the linear logic of storytelling falls
apart in an open game. Themes then seem to be the answer, since they are
more abstract and malleable in terms of gameplay as seen in the Far Cry 3
example. A carefully designed, open game can lack an explicit narrative, but
include themes that are completely covered by the gameplay which, as I
explained earlier, then becomes meaningful gameplay. So, one ideal to reach the
'holy grail' (an optimal combination of classical narrative and open game
design) would be to design an open game in which every part of open gameplay is
an act covered by the game's narrative theme(s). This way, gameplay can be seen
to be in perfect harmony with an element of classical narrative.
In the end, to
completely apply a classical narrative to a nonlinear, open game in a
structurally acceptable way is impossible, so the careful integration of elements
of classical narratives seems the best solution when reaching for the 'holy
grail'. Several of these possible combinations have been explored here, but it
would be up to 'the next generation' to fully explore the possible combinations
and permutations. And, of course, one must take into account that video games
are a relatively new medium and that new kinds of games will undoubtedly be
made in the coming decades, offering new combinations of narrative and
gameplay. In that sense, reaching for the 'holy grail' will likely prove
impossible, but it will definitely not prove a futile effort, because the
structural issues between narrative and gameplay will always be relevant in the
world of video games, both in a theoretical and practical sense.
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