Games & Writing: The New Frontier Of Narrative (and why EA should be ashamed)

Writing and games have always made for strange, difficult bedfellows.  Chances are, if you're not on the side of those who see games as a new art form, ripe for retelling old stories and telling new ones, then you're on the opposing side, believing that games aren't about storytelling so much as having fun.

Of course, you're both wrong.

Its taken a lot of thought and a fair bit of reading to get my head around how games can work as a new medium - and even more to find a way of explaining it.

The key is in the term "storytelling".  This is a bad word to use with games.

To understand why, we have to look at a brief history of the word.

In the days before the advent of written word and the printing press, "storytelling" was the literal telling of a story from one person to another.  This is the purest form of "narrative", being an orally narrated story.  The written word was a natural extension of this, offering twists on the concept of a narrative (1st person, 3rd person, etc) but still always narrating a story to a (hopefully) fascinated reader.

Then there's the staged performance of stories - plays, operas, etc, and later cinema.  For the most part, these were without a narrator - instead, people were seeing the narrative actually come to life by itself.  Now, the defined meaning of "narrative" and "storytelling" are called into question.  Could there really be a narrative without a narrator?  Is the story really being told, or is this a form of "story-showing"?  They bring more to the table than written or spoken word do, and what they bring with them muddies the waters of definitions for things that were defined back then.

Now we can extend this to today, and look at the mysterious murky world of interactivity that we call games.  Whether we view games as an extension of cinematic narrative or as something entirely separate, they undoubtedly bring more to the table and muddy the waters of definition further.  As cinema was a visual medium that worked best when making use of what it could do - visual metaphor, direction and misdirection, giving us a more visceral experience than the written word ever could - games are an interactive media, and as such the key to making use of them is to look at what interactivity involves and what that means; just as cinema changed narrative from "storytelling" to "story-showing", games have moved the world of narrative from "story-showing" to "story-experiencing".

So games let us experience a story in a deeper way than cinema, performance, written word or oral world - but what does that actually mean, and how do we exploit it?  To put it another way - what the hell is this blog trying to say?

My point is this: while we keep tacking cinematic stories onto tried & tested game formats, turning out the same old control systems and gameplay experiences with new plots and characters, we're not going to achieve what games are supposed to be all about.  We have to be looking at the overall experience and feel of a situation, and how a game can let us be drawn into and experience that, rather than tacking cinematics onto an action sequence and calling it a story.

Case in point: EA's Dante's Inferno game.  The key element of this tale was that it took the form of a cautionary, allegorical tale about the dangers of life.  While a visual portrayal of the demons and punishments Dante watched on his journey might offer a more visceral, moving metaphor than the text itself  - perhaps sacrificing some of the deep reflection and the thoughts of Dante's character in order to give a more instant shock and revulsion - the experience of Dante wandering these lands is one of questioning, and reflection on life - at times filled with fear, other times revulsion and other times sorrow for the poor souls trapped, facing an eternity of torture for their sins.

So EA made it look like God Of War.

*slow clap*

Now, I'm not a professional games designer, so I won't claim I have all the answers, but I think I've proved here that games can serve a purpose in a sort-of narrative, sort-of storytelling way, so the opportunity to adapt one of the greatest texts of all time ought to be a chance for games to really shine and be elevated above the mire of mindless action games with paper-thin characters.  This was our chance to truly experience what Dante did, to be forced to reflect upon all he did - the nature of sin, existence and punishment - and to be reviled, disgusted and yet intrigued, and - hopefully - to come away, as Dante did, a changed man.  There's no reason why Dante's Inferno (the 9 levels of hell) could not be followed by its (less visually spectacular) sequels Puragatorio (moving through purgatory, where souls sat out penance for their minor sins) and Paradiso (the final spirals of heaven, leading up to face God himself and receive The Answer).

So I guess there are two points I'm trying to make here:

#1: Games have a very important place in the sphere of all things narrative related, and could offer a new and exciting experience as long as we stop both treating them as nothing but a cheap thrill, and comparing them to other, incompatible media such as cinema or written word

and

#2: Fuck you EA.

No, really.

FUCK YOU.

Games We Can Learn From: Far Cry 2 Shows Us Emergence In Action

I find the experience of reviewing games to be incredibly, painfully subjective, and I couldn't imagine using my blog to tell people what games they may or may not like.

I do, however, think there are a lot of games that, if you're interested in the development of gameplay systems and interactivity, you should play just for the experience, and I'd like to start with the most recent experience I've had: Far Cry 2.

If I could use an analogy to sum up the Far Cry 2 experience, I'd say it was like taking a hooker to an expensive restaurant.  Both good things in their own right, neither makes the other less enjoyable, but they just don't really gel together properly.

Despite being a game of emergent elements, open exploration and tense narrative with both political and personal elements, Far Cry 2 is, at its heart, still an action-shooting game (see this interview with Ubisoft Montreal's Narrative designer Patrick Redding).  The game packs a real emotional punch, but this feels at odds with a world in which flimsy pretenses are used to explain why everyone - and I mean everyone - you meet in the world seems to want you dead.

Thats not to say that the game is, in any way, flawed by this.  As an arcade shooting game, Far Cry 2 excels, and its reliance on emergent elements is perhaps the key - the game's fire-propagation system, for example, not only leads the player to develop their own mostly-emergent strategies for  dealing with problems, but encourages this behaviour.

During my time with the game, shooting out oil lamps and gas cylinders to start fires that flush enemies out of cover became a staple tactic for dealing with emplacements.  This was balanced with similarly emergent risks - the status quo of a reliable technique was shaken up on occasion by random "wandering" enemies stumbling on me while I was focussed on picking off the fleeing guards; at other times, fires would spread to and set alight the ammunition supplies I was looking to swipe, while another time a petrol tanker explosion blew debris into the air that fell on top of me and almost killed me.  Then there was the gas cylinder I punctured, sending it spiralling and snaking around the camp, propelled by the tiny flame of escaping gas, which set alight to the dry reeds I was hiding in, surrounding me and forcing me reluctantly out of hiding ...

Yet the game also contained elements such as the "buddy" system, wherein you met recurring characters that (provided you could keep them alive and healthy) would bail you out when you were injured and offer alternative solutions to your missions, and the political elements of the missions themselves, which lent the game a sense of depth that the gameplay didn't match.  It jars the senses - first of all, when approaching a checkpoint in the roads for the first time, and later when the game would happily let an important character, with whom you've built a rapport and friendship, die from an errant sniper bullet from your own gun, or your failure to get to them and administer first aid in time.  In the latter case, giving you the option (which they often beg for if their injuries are bad enough) to finish them off yourself, and recording these actions and having other characters respond to you accordingly just twists the knife in your already wounded heart.  

So Far Cry 2 is an action shooting game with elements of things we don't normally expect to find, but yet is somehow isn't.  The intense shooting action doesn't quite marry up to the tense political storyline, or the emotional impact of the interactions with the game's characters.  In essence, Far Cry 2 offers two seperate but overlapping experiences, both extremely enjoyable, and both expertly crafted.

If there's one other thing Far Cry does well, though, its the ending.  Few games risk an understated ending - nothing feels worse than coming away from 40+ hours of gameplay feeling short-changed and frustrated - but so many games (Fallout 3, for example) feel like they labour the point of their emotional impact that Far Cry 2's nice, simple ending feels both fresh and rewarding.  While its not hard to see the twist coming, it feels good when it does, and when the story wraps up, it does so in a simple moment that offers so much pathos, its hard not to feel moved by it.

So what can we learn from Far Cry 2?  Regardless of whether you feel Ubisoft did it successfully or not, we can take away the knowledge that grafting new elements (emergent gameplay, exploration, in-depth character progression) onto familiar gameplay structures (shoot anything that moves) is a complex process, but one that can be worth the extra effort and risk.  We also get further evidence for the idea that the "sweet spot" of gameplay lies somewhere between scripting and emergence, that the game should encourage a player to play freely with their toys, and not punish them for trying things the designers didn't necessarily expect.

All in all, Far Cry 2 is one to add to the list of games we could all learn something from, so - if you haven't already - pick it up and give it a shot; and if you already have, drop a comment and let us all know what you thought of it!

5 Reasons Why Your Business Should Use Linux (and one very good one why it shouldn't)

Having just bought myself an Acer Aspire One I've been introduced to Linux with all the ease and gentleness that a flying brick might be introduced to a man's face; and like that man, I've emerged from the ordeal with a very different outlook.  Unlike that man, however, my experience has, on the whole, been positive, and has left me with a lot to think about.

There's a secret joy to Linux, and - like many things in life - it lies in your interpretation of its little nuances and eccentricities.  It does its job as an operating system brilliantly and efficiently, more so than anything I've ever used, but it comes with so many things that people would consider "downsides" that the lay-person rarely even gets the chance to consider using it, but its all a matter of perspective.  Often, things that may be a "downside" in a particular situation have benefits in another.

With this in mind, I present 10 reasons why your business should use Linux:

1. Its Free

There's no argument here (or, at least, no sensible ones).  Linux does its job, and it does it for free.  No licensing costs, no costs for updates.  Linux is free like roadkill for dinner.

2. It Works

I know, the idea that (relatively) anonymous strangers on the Internet can collaborate to produce anything other than fake celebrity pornography and crudely drawn penises amazes me too, but there is just no denying that Linux works, and it works solidly.  From my own personal experience, I have yet to have any kind of performance issue or crash with Linux, and my Acer Aspire is running a particular brand (Linpus Lite Fedora with a customised XFCE desktop) that can boot in UNDER A MINUTE.  Take that Windows XP.

3. Its Tailored

Being Open Source means anyone can tinker with Linux all they want, and produce a new version.  While this may sound scary and unstable, so long as you stick to the major, trusted brands of Linux (Fedora, Red Hat, etc - all tried and tested by millions) you can get a version that does what you want, and ONLY what you want.  In a business environment, this means no more training people to "click start and look under Programs -> Office -> Accesories ...".  You can easily set Linux up so that your users can just click the big button marked "DO OFFICE STUFF".

4. Theres A Wealth Of Support Available

I'm just going to come out and say it.  Lets be honest, 75% of IT problems are solved by looking up the Microsoft Knowledge Database and finding the answer.  Well, if you squint a bit and tilt your head to once side, you can see that Linux has an EVEN BIGGER knowledge database.  Its called google.

With thousands of people already using Linux and offering support and tutorials for others, the only difference between Linux and Windows in this way is the centralization of the knowledge on Microsoft's site.

5. Its Really, Really, Really Complicated

Wait.  I know what you're thinking, but this really is a very good thing.

By trying to make itself as easy-to-use and accessible as possible, Windows opens the floodgates to your untrained excel monkeys to start messing with settings and playing with things.  Linux, on the other hand, is very, very difficult to play with, to the point that almost every alteration to the system needs to be done through linux's terminal command-line-interface.  Linking back to what I said about Linux's customisation, remove access to the terminal and suddenly it becomes very, very hard to mess with the system - to the point I could let my nephew loose on it and, short of drooling on the keyboard, he wouldn't be able to damage it.

All these reasons aside, however, there's a very good reason why you shouldn't use Linux - a reason which, as someone with managerial experience myself, would make me doubt the possibilities of using Linux.

There's No-One To Blame When It Goes Wrong

The anonymity behind which Linux is developed might promote its portability and customisation, but it also means that, when things go wrong, there's no-one to blame.

Perhaps this is the reason IT technicians often prefer to train in Microsoft certification - if they come up against a problem they can't solve, their training absolves them from responsibility.  They can simply blame Microsoft, and Microsoft is a big enough company to carry it.  If a problem arises with Linux, responsibility stops with the IT technician.

Now, personally, I would say that this is the mark of a good IT technician.  If I might romanticize a moment, an IT technician that takes responsibility for his work and doesn't just rely on the Microsoft knowledge base is one who takes a commendable risk, and puts their keister on the line for his or her work.

In my opinion, an IT technician who takes that risk and uses a Linux system is saving himself a lot of work in fixing and optimizing a system not perfectly designed for their needs.  Using Linux could save a company time, money and effort, and it all hinges on one person taking a risk and taking pride in their work.

So consider this a challenge to the world of IT - do you have what it takes to work with Linux?