Categories
Hey Dylan Media PC Games

Richard & Alice (PC Game) [Open Letter Series]

Richard_&_Alice_CoverartHey Dylan,
I finished Richard & Alice on Saturday, and I was impressed with the creative use of time in the game. The opening especially, with the scene between the dad and son, and the flash forward to the jail, interspersed with the title shot and credits, struck me as sort of cinematic in terms of mechanics. I’ve seen it in TV shows and movies, but less in games.  In addition, it had the distinctive feature of the enforced pause (I don’t know if this was due to loading, or intentional, but the effect was the same either way), forcing the player to slow down which I both loved and hated at different parts. One thing that drove me a little nuts was coming back to a location to do something and waiting for the cut scenes to finish. This was less of a problem for me when the scenes gave me new back story, and more of a problem when it was Barney being whiney or Alice babbling to herself.

The main question the game asks – what are people when it comes down to it – is, for me, old. Like “yeah, yeah, after the apocalypse people are going to be jerks.”  Alice is no exception to the jerk rule, even though I think the player is supposed to sympathize with her. I wish I could say that I felt for her when she put Barney out of his misery, but frankly, it was difficult to care about Barney. In fact, Alice was the most likeable when she was failing at doing the right thing, like when she yelled at Barney. But the question is, does this make the writing in Richard & Alice bad, per se? With the exception of Barney, the characters are multidimensional, and the writing has a lot of interesting and sometimes intriguingly ambiguous points: talking to the dead at any old grave because there’s no way to know which grave you’re at, a jail that was originally luxury housing, Alice’s apparent choice to put herself in jail.

Most of the game logic was pretty straightforward. It was missing certain hints that a Schaefer game would have, like “hmm, I should put something on the gunpowder to make a wick.” Or, “if only I had something to melt the ice with.” And I thought that it would have been cool if any grave you chose worked at any given time, as a performative way of showing that it didn’t matter which grave the characters went to, since post-apocalypse, there was no longer a system for mapping bodies to graves.

I also noticed playing the game that Richard’s role was basically to be a robot in the jail cell that could listen. He listened to Alice’s story and did all the mechanical things with the objects but outside of the opening scene, his entire story was told through scraps of paper Alice found.  Seeing Richard develop through Alice was a different experience than playing Richard would have been, because Alice is already disposed to think of him as terrible, both as in bad and as in terror-inducing.

Of what I am told are five endings, I played through two – in the first, I had Alice use the ladder to get the box from the center of the frozen lake.  I was pretty sure from the moment I found out that there was a single bullet in the box how the game was going to end and I was right – by sheer coincidence, because there are a few endings where you get the bullet. But in the game I played, after Alice gets out of jail, she kills herself at Barney’s grave, in front of Richard. Alice’s suicide in this situation asks another kind of question about the apocalypse, if you are not one of the (lucky?) ones killed right away, is it unethical to voluntarily become one? Does it come down to what you could contribute if you were alive or whether you could better your own conditions? Or in this special case, is it no longer a selfish act because all acts have become selfish?

The second time, I left the bullet in the box in the lake, which caused her to use the empty gun to knock Richard out in front of the grave. She leaves a note for Richard telling him she’s gone…I think that this scenario is one where she kills herself with the next bullet she finds, that is to say the only reason why she didn’t kill herself is lack of bullets. This is the logical conclusion, on account of everything else happening exactly the same way.

For me, the best line in the game is when Alice says to Richard, “just because I understand you doesn’t mean I’m like you,” (and this may actually be a paraphrasing, but it’s very close), which she says shortly before shooting herself. What makes this the best line to my mind is Alice’s underlying assumption that it is within her jurisdiction to decide about her own nature. Often, we feel we are subject to various systems – biological, physiological, economic, social, etc. – and maybe we are but it’s possible, if morbid, that the fact of the ability to kill oneself means that in reality, no one is actually subject to these systems because they can voluntarily disappear from them.  While obviously most of us in the first world would not do that, perhaps the choice itself changes the power balance between the world and the person. Or perhaps not.

-Joanna

Author’s Note: This is the beginning of a monthly correspondence around short, mostly indie PC games, focusing on one per month. The other writer, Dylan Holmes, can be found here.

This specific post is the first in a four part letter series.  Here are the rest:
Dylan’s reply to this letter (post #2).
My reply to letter #2 (post #3).
Dylan’s reply to letter #3 (post #4)

Categories
Media PC Games

Broken Age (PC Game)

Broken Age from Double Fine Productions ($25 on Steam) is a point-and-click adventure by Tim Schafer, who is well known for games like Psychonauts, Monkey Island and Grim Fandango. This style of game involves no combat, is story based, and has puzzles that move the narrative forward. What make Schafer’s games wonderful and charming is the eccentric, likable characters he brings to life in worlds that amaze.

Unless you suddenly find yourself looking at an obvious interface that needs to be interacted with, some kinds of puzzles are not easy to guess. Those kinds of puzzles that require your character to do a series of actions in a certain order are easier for people who have played p&c adventures before, because they might understand that when something doesn’t work, it could just be that they thought of doing the steps in one order, but the designers had it in mind players do them in another order.  But if you’re walking in cold, the point and click adventure style needs to be learned along with being able to decipher the clues that are specific to the content in Broken Age. What could compel a player to do this? Especially since some of the puzzles involve either taking a picture of the screen or taking literal notes? It’s in the world building. The plain fact of the matter is, even if the puzzles are things of genius, the player will only solve them if she likes being in the game world. In my opinion, more than a few of the puzzles in Broken Age are not intuitive, require a lot of back and forth between the same places, and involve going through more dialog trees than you maybe want to.  (Especially all the ones that deal with the talking tree, omg SHUT UP TALKING TREE).

But the story — about a girl in a small town who decides she doesn’t want to be sacrificed at the maidens’ feast and a boy on a space ship who decides it’s time to grow up — is so charming, the characters you meet along the way so quirky, and the art so compelling, that the player doesn’t notice the hours flying by…literally…I might have suddenly realized I was sitting in the dark playing Broken Age because the sun went down and I didn’t notice…

I loved this game, and I’d recommend it to people who like narrative heavy games and art particularly. However, there is probably a decent demographic who would find the whole genre of point and click frustrating, and there is also a decent chance that at least some of that demographic doesn’t yet know that this is true about them. So, this is how I’d break it down: for gamers who super enjoy the open world style of gameplay, who prefer their graphics to be realistic and 3D instead of charming and 2D, who can’t imagine a game with just one ending, and who have excellent hand-eye coordination, this game probably isn’t really your bag. For people who usually don’t like video games, but do love comics, for lovers of old school p&c adventures, for gamers who want to identify with characters that they play, and lastly, for people who are not experienced with p&c adventures but who don’t feel guilty googling a solution, check this game out.

I wished I’d played it sooner, myself, because it is a little bit like “coming home,” in that it reminds me of the first PC games I ever played, and it brings back a little bit of the wonder I felt then.

Categories
Books Media Public Librarianship

Silent Hall by N.S. Dolkart (Book)

Silent Hall by N.S. Dolkart
Silent Hall by N.S. Dolkart

Silent Hall (Kindle: $6.99 Paperback: $7.99) is a classic fantasy novel written by a dear friend from my college days. The novel is written for a new generation of readers, while hearkening back to some familiar themes. As I began this book, I immediately recognized the internal sensation that is discordant with most fantasy published in 2016, the sensation of comfort. This would be a book about characters who did the right thing, often despite themselves, became close unexpectedly, and found themselves in the process. This book features five very different characters who all have reason to be unhappy with their lives but none of whom would have voluntarily committed to the journey they end up taking together, as refugees. Of the many things that guide their actions, one of the main things is their struggle with their own moral compasses, with trying to understand how to be good people in a complicated world. The book does some new and unique things as well; it consciously addresses certain political challenges that are relevant to today’s struggles, and it also features an endearing and surprising system of scholarship the characters use as they interpret the world around them.

I knew this reading experience, because when I grew up in the nineties, I read Patricia C. Wrede, and Tamora Pierce, and Melanie Rawn and Mercedes Lackey. These authors presented similar tropes, in fantasy settings.  Most striking for me is the sure knowledge from the get go, in both these authors’ novels and in Dolkart’s Silent Hall, that these characters take it as a given that there is a shared ethic. It is simply assumed that there is a right thing to do.

Today, for the same group of readers, instead of these tropes, fantasy mainly refers to paranormal romance, and to tropes that can and often do glorify lack of control generally and rape specifically. In library school, we talked about how fantasy has gotten so much darker. It was largely seen as a liberalization of standards, of permissions. We now accept that kids and young adults (who are commonly seen as the target demographic for fantasy novels, although of course this leaves out a non-trivial minority of adults as well) can read this stuff without becoming crazed and violent. But perhaps there’s something else going on, too. In reading Silent Hall, I began to reflect on how the key difference between Dolkart’s work and that of say, Stephenie Meyer, is that in Meyer’s work, a lack of control has largely taken the place of the moral standards Dolkart’s characters struggle to understand and abide by. This is a substantial difference in both theme and literary mechanic. In paranormal romance, we sympathize (or don’t, as in the case of my grumpy self) with these new characters because of the way their individuality is subjected to forces beyond their control, and we are meant to thrill at the idea that possibly we, too, could one day live without the burden of ethical choices on our shoulders.

Dolkart’s Silent Hall is a refreshing and comforting reminder that there remains in the literature, and in the minds of some people, an idea of a morality that is upheld by us all and individually manifested. This morality is not one that speaks to identity, but to the basic human interaction.

If you are a reader of fantasy, I highly recommend Silent Hall, the first in Dolkart’s new series. Read it because you like a comfort read. Read it because you like to read about close friends succeeding together. Read it because you appreciate the value of ethical interaction that is so lost in most of the fantasy literature coming out today. Read it for its cleverness, read it for its endearing Talmud like study of a fantastical theology. Read it because of its feminist bent or its discussion of the value of knowledge and the fear that knowledge can generate. Read it to watch characters learn to love themselves. Read it because it’s raining outside. Whatever. Read it!

Categories
Film and TV Media Non-Fiction Star Wars

The Saber in the Snow: An American Myth (Star Wars: The Force Awakens review)

On Christmas day, 2015, I went to the theater to see Star Wars: The Force Awakens. Key on every viewer’s mind was the question of why The Force Awakens seemed to have the exact same plot as A New Hope, the first of the original Star Wars movies, released in 1977. This essay will assert that the near-identical plot in The Force Awakens is not mere laziness, nor heavy handed fan service. Instead, it is in deference to the political moment from which Star Wars originally emerged – in particular, it revisits the tension between two different interpretations of Modernism, and more pointedly, two different interpretations of the violence Modernism necessitated. It also addresses the astounding, swiftly growing divide between the democratic government and the democracy that began at the end of the Cold War. Finally, with the Jedi, it asks what a moral geography that did not advantage one space at the expense of another would look like.

In the United States, early in the 1970’s, the zeitgeist itself began to resist both forms of violence, and turned instead towards privatized interests to represent them. By the 1990’s, the line between public and private was substantially blurred, and Bill Clinton was deregulating Wall Street. Between 1970 and the turn of the century, there were three crucial developments: first, and perhaps most importantly, a growing divide between the people and their government – where the sixties and seventies had been a time of protest and political movement, after the end of the cold war, the zeitgeist turned against the legitimacy of American governance. Secondly, and as a result, we saw the rise of neoliberalism which placed its faith in the free market instead of government, and we also saw the emergence of its cultural analog, postmodernism. Thirdly, and finally, the rapid development of information technologies in partnership with free market ideologies that were not statist, and could be sometimes even anti-statist, led to an increasing awareness of a lopsided globalization, in which certain nations were disproportionately disadvantaged in the “world system” that arose alongside Modernism.

The divide between the people and their government is key in the comparison between A New Hope and The Force Awakens – this divide allows Modernist tensions to play out between warring entities on the political field, and postmodernist, neoliberal, globalized (kill me now) tensions to play out in the lived experience of the citizenry of the galaxy. It is on the ground that the most pertinent question is being asked: what does it mean to be sentient? In this way, neither the New Republic, nor the First Order have anything to say to the people – democracy or not democracy is not the question, it is Heidegger’s question that is asked again and again in the deserts of the Star Wars galaxy: what does it mean to be?

**

Consider that there are three interests in A New Hope: the first is that of the Empire, which is interested in maintaining and solidifying its dominance; the second is that of the rebel alliance, fighting on behalf of the Republic to overthrow the Empire ostensibly in order to achieve better representation in governance; and the last is that of the Jedi, whose order is not allowed any sort of national loyalty, and who therefore mainly fight on behalf of moral geographies. The last case is special, in that it is not purely ideological, nor purely spatial – the Jedi uniquely protect particular moral-spatial relationships, according to its own principles and not those of any other political party or power. This lends itself to a kind of religious tribalism, in which Jedi exist simultaneously inside and outside of whatever location they physically (literally) inhabit.  In A New Hope, the Jedi Order has long been extinct, but it begins to make a revival via Luke and his (then unbeknownst to us) sister Leia, who are the first in a long time to be particularly sensitive to the Force, the primary tool of the Jedi. To suggest the Jedi approach some kind of true universalism would be as foolish as suggesting that the process of globalization does not also ignore or destroy particular geographies and populations.

As previously discussed, postmodernism emerges in the 1970’s. Intertwined with it are post-structuralism and deconstructionist modes of thought and expression. These projects together with neoliberalism dismantled many of the political structures that were meant to preserve national interests in favor of individual freedom, guaranteed by the market and its quantitative forms of measurement. That is to say, freedom became synonymous with “the free market,” and left behind the confines and context of the state. Neoliberalism has come under sustained critique for engendering a globalization process which promotes ideological discourses that exclude particular geographies and populations, or literally uses them as trash receptacles for the world’s literal garbage (the latter being an environmentalist critique about structural violence). This ideology proposes that justice is an entity that is derived from a combination of competition and contracts. In this case, the social contract is the same thing as the commercial contract, and it is competition that allows the commercial contract which is the most just to dominate. For neoliberalism, the market is the great equalizer because its judgment is amoral and in fact not even qualitative; it is rationalism’s secularism. The Jedi represent the extreme opposite: they are not secular (although their spiritualism is not monotheistic), and they are, essentially, moralists. The dark side is composed of people who do things that are morally corrupt, often simply to prove their own moral corruption. Although this is, in many ways, the opposite of rationalism, the Jedi mythos shares one important thing with the neoliberal mythos: it claims universalism, while in fact being essentially Western.

Alongside the Jedi (and their implicit criticism of neoliberal approaches to not only the present, but also world history), there are the political mechanics of nation states, representing in the Star Wars universe what we might understand as the common struggle, associated with the working class. See both Luke’s family and Rey’s. These characters, who are a stand in for the majority of the members of the Star Wars universe in terms of status and ideology, represent a more literal Westernism. In this case, “A New Hope,” might really refer to “A New Hope for the Triumph of the West,”  which is synonymous with a “A Triumph of Modernism.” We can see the rebel fighters as the literal wing, and the Jedi as the ideological wing of a retelling of the Eurocentric, Western myth of modernism. You know – the one that valorizes imperialism, that wants to introduce both a logistically literal and Hegelian-esque ideological conception of the state to the world, thereby advancing us all into the global destiny we deserve: one of peace and prosperity, but also notably one of gentility. (Hegel’s conception of the state is rather confounding to me, but apparently he saw the “state” as an advancement in rational thought, and not anything remotely material). Given the timing, A New Hope might have been better titled, “A Dying Hope.”

**

In fact, The Force Awakens (spoilers – but really if you haven’t seen it yet, then…) opens in the globalized desert foreseen by critics of neoliberalism. In this universe, the middle class has disappeared, leaving behind a wealthy class, an impoverished class (scavengers), and a pervasive black market, where a droid’s worth in food rations is often seen as more valuable than his agency or sentience. There has been a failure to resurrect the Jedi. This failure was marked by obscene violence, which is contrasted in this movie with a certain kind of violence that is valorized. It is, after all, Luke’s light saber that calls to Rey. The tension between these forms of violence – the one the heroes use and the one the villains use – plays out inside Kylo Ren, son of Leia and Han. With the Jedi disinherited by all sides, the First Order rises to challenge the New Republic. The First Order understands itself to have global jurisdiction.

It is the task of the First Order to remove the disorder from our own existence, so that civilization may be returned to the stability that promotes progress. A stability that existed under the Empire, was reduced to anarchy by the Rebellion, was inherited in turn by the so-called Republic, and will be restored by us. Future historians will look upon this as the time when a strong hand brought the rule of law back to civilization. – Kylo Ren

The New Republic also sees itself with global jurisdiction.

This is democracy… We will not always get it right. We will never have it perfect. But we will listen. To the countless voices crying out across the galaxy, we have opened our ears, and we will always listen. That is how democracy survives. That is how it thrives…That is the New Republic.“―Olia Choko[src]

Both of these are deeply modernist constructions, and one is obviously meant to also remind us of fascism. The First Order sees civilization as a product of carefully calculated, meticulously executed violence. A civilized society is an ordered society, where individuality and individual expression are devalued, and order is maintained through fear. The New Republic, when it valorizes to the messiness of democracy, is talking about a different kind of violence – not the kind that one brings to bear on the world to maintain order, but the kind that one is called to despite order. The New Republic has no army, because it relies on this different form of violence. That is the rebels, who use violence to disturb order. The explicit reference to listening is also notable, the New Republic premises its modernist conception of freedom on the right to be heard. This was represented in real world Western Modernism as well, but it was illusory – there were numerous populations whose voices cried out and who were silenced. But both the First Order and the New Republic are modernist insofar as each takes a primarily Western view of what civilization entails and applies it broadly, which is understood as the ethically correct course of action — as opposed to a pragmatic or contractually ensured course of action.

But these two major forces are waging war over a galaxy that is largely composed of people who are not interested in anything but themselves and perhaps, at most, their own families. Between these two conceptions of Modernism, and these two kinds of violence, there is a tension that still rests almost entirely in the ideological sphere – it comes down to ideas and ethics. Meanwhile, on the ground, the people and other sentient creatures we see in the Star Wars universe seem to be interested in neither order, nor being heard. They are interested in survival, and though the faint echoes of civilization as something greater than the sum of its parts emerge from time to time, they largely conceive of government as being essentially carceral – restraining and containing. This final tension, in which value is judged, at its most abstract, contractually is the one that most resembles our lived reality in the United States today. It is the extras in Star Wars: The Force Awakens that represent 2016, and postmodernism, and neoliberalism. In Rey, and Finn, the millennials (kill me now) in The Force Awakens, we also see an anguish that arises due the constant and fierce struggle to develop identity in this brave new world. They are concerned throughout The Force Awakens, not with the fate of the New Republic at all, but with their own fates, of what they mean to mean.

Meanwhile, above the zeitgeist, an ideological struggle over governance plays out.

**

Above and below, the Jedi are simultaneously missed and dismissed, and with them, the notion of moral geography. Both the First Order and the New Republic see the galaxy in terms of territory. This is most obvious when the First Order destroys the New Republic with a physical weapon in physical space. Yet the Jedi believed in a system that did not recognize nationalism as a priority or a measurement of value. Their system also relied on ethical measurements and not contractual or pragmatic ones. The Jedi experiment failed, allegedly because Kylo Ren, who stood between two sides of the Force, snapped. But perhaps the truth is that the Jedi experiment cannot work for precisely the same reason that globalization is not just; the illusion of universalism is itself a form of oppression, and will always fall apart under the pressures of nationalist interests. The Jedi Order can only exist in a world where the ideology of universalism doesn’t come at the expense of whole nations, who are ultimately exempted from this “universalism” exactly in order to make this “universalism” possible. This pits nationalism against universalism, and it was Modernism that gave nationalism its ethical underpinnings.

What results is a world in which national interests play out at a high level, disenfranchised citizenry involve themselves in pragmatic interactions based around survival at a lower level, and the Jedi project remains undeveloped. It could be argued that the world needs to become ready for the Jedi, and it could be argued that the Jedi need to do that work themselves; what cannot be argued is that the Modernist tensions, and the kinds of violence inherent to them, are not threatened nor made irrelevant by globalization, or any self-proclaimed universalism. The real threat to modernist tensions comes from the alienation of the citizenry, and their movement towards neoliberal, postmodern modes of living.

Categories
Books Media

Austerlitz (Book)

41uSvSpj-6L__SX338_BO1,204,203,200_Austerlitz by W.G. Sebald, translated from the German by Anthea Bell, is a slow, meditative, and at times haunting account of a Jewish man who was sent away as a small child to England from Czechoslovakia when the Nazi threat loomed large. It is only late into his adulthood that he begins to explore his past, and unravel the mystery of what happened to him. Both the delay and the search are reflected upon in this beautiful novel chock full of entrancing imagery and humanity. But more than that, this book recalls a Europe that – though tragic in many ways – represented an entire civilization that is no longer accessible, some of which was also beautiful and (it turns out) fragile. This is an astonishing work that seems to call to us from a different time when time itself moved slower, and an insightful look at violence stretched over time.

Categories
Media PC Games

Emily is Away (PC Game)

Emily is ObnoxiousThere is a particular sub-genre of media that explores the nature of impotence. Not necessarily the literal inability to get it up, but the failure to do the thing, whatever the thing happens to be. These media are obnoxious when they’re not interactive, but a game really brings the obnoxiousness to the fore. In Emily is Away (free on Steam), which has a total run time of twenty to thirty minutes, you play a character that can’t bring himself to tell his friend Emily that he wants to date her.  and that is the entire game. And it sucks.  However, I will say the interface is a nice blast from the past. Remember AIM? Remember the open door/close door/IM sounds? Remember profiles and buddy icons? However, as it happens, you can also just download an old version of AIM itself,  so really – don’t bother with Emily is Away.

Categories
Books Graphic Novels and Comics Media Star Wars

Herky Jerky: Star Wars between Return of the Jedi and The Force Awakens (Review of Media)

As some of you may be aware, Disney has been publishing content in the Star Wars universe that covers the time between Return of the Jedi and The Force Awakens. You can find an aggregated list of the media here.

Shattered_Empire_1_CoverJourney to Star Wars: The Force Awakens: Shattered Empire by Marvel Comics. This four part comic series explains Poe Dameron’s background and clarifies what many of us probably suspected: the war doesn’t really end with the fall of the emperor, because the Empire is not centralized, it is exists on many planets throughout the galaxy. The only difference is now, the Empire is occupying territory that belongs to the Republic. The most gratifying moments occur when we see characters we know and love hanging out. The center of the comic series is on Poe’s mother, Shara, and perhaps the most obnoxious part of this comic series is the recurring “you’ve done so much, go home and be a housewife now” conversation that happens between each thing Shara does. Nonetheless, it’s a light, sweet read, and it occurs right after Return of the Jedi– you even get to see the after party. Kinda neat.

 

aftermath_new.6.red_Aftermath: Star Wars: Journey to Star Wars: The Force Awakens by Chuck Wendig is a novel that zooms around between characters that we know pretty well (Wedge Antilles!) and characters we’ve never met.  I’m not going to lie, it’s pretty badly written. Every sentence. Is. Dramatic and short. And eventually. You want to punch someone. Like the author. Yes, the author. The author did this. And WE WILL SEE JUSTICE.  I mean, you get the idea. That said, I appreciate its pretty in depth world building. You really get a sense of the fatigue that accompanies the post-victory life for rebel sympathizers. And there is substantial plot (the Empire is up to no good). I decided to listen to the audio book and was highly amused by it, the reader does voices but is a dude and therefore all the female characters are not super believable. My favorite moment so far in all the Star Wars media I’ve seen appears in this book, though, when a pilot refers to his ship’s ability to out maneuver most obstacles with the phrase “HERKY JERKY.” Overall, if you are a Star Wars fan, I think you should read this for actual plot reasons and for world building reasons…but not for good writing. Not that. Never that. We’ve been on this desert of a plant too long. We knew what to expect.

 

Star Wars: Absolutely Everything You Need to Know by Adam Bray and Cole Horton should really be called Star Wars: Absolutely Everything You Need to Know Organized So Poorly That It’s Probably Worth Just Doing Your Own Research. I’m not joking. Do not read this. It will only frustrate you and make you sad.  The information is probably more scattered than it actually is on the internet. The fact of the matter is, all of the information in any given reference book on Star Wars is going to be on the internet, so if you’re reading a book like this, it’s because you hope it’ll be organized neatly for you and look pretty. Well it ain’t. If you don’t believe me, here’s an example. This is what EVERY PAGE looks like:

star-wars-absolutely-everything-you-need-to-know

I hope Ships of the Galaxy turns out to be better.

Categories
Media PC Games

Journal (PC Game)

Screenshot from the PC Game, "Journal."
Screenshot from the PC Game, Journal.

 

Journal, a game by Locked Door Puzzle (available on Steam for $1.49 through Jan 4th, $9.99 after Jan 4th) grows on you. What first appears to be a distinct lack of player agency eventually evolves into a relationship between the player and the character that is unique and compelling. The premise is simple: a high school aged girl wakes up one morning to find that her journal is empty. You play her as she goes about her life. At first it seems almost trivial, but gradually, it becomes clear that something is happening, or has happened, and you are playing through the aftermath. The ending is heartbreaking, but refreshingly honest. I thought when I was about halfway through the game that I would come here to tell you all not to play it, but the truth is, this game redeems itself. There is a lot of pointing and clicking, and dialog trees (with different potential outcomes), but there are no puzzles and certainly no stealth or combat. Total game time is a couple hours at most. You should definitely give it a go if you like strong storytelling and the type of game often labeled as “visual novel.”

Categories
Media Non-Fiction PC Games

The Beginner’s Guide (PC Game)

The Beginner’s Guide, created by Davey Wreden (who also famously made The Stanley Parable), gets immediate brownie points from pretty much every reviewer for daring to try something new.  In a nutshell, the game approaches the topics of consumption-as-identity, authorship, depression, and what it means to know a person in the form of a “narrative video game,” a game that eschews normal game mechanics in favor of what feels like a narrated tour. The compelling part is the tour guide is telling a deeply personal story, and the player gradually realizes that he is grappling with the narrative even as he tells the story.

Some will argue (and have argued) that therefore, The Beginner’s Guide is not a game, so much as an interactive story, or a visual novel. Over at PC World, Hayden Dingman even gets into Death of the Author, Barthes’  literary theory about authorial present, intent and control in a given work. Indeed, as a text, there are many ways to discuss The Beginner’s Guide and what it says about various themes common to the lived experience in the first world.  But all of that happens to be less interesting to me at the moment than the (also often addressed) question of what constitutes a game.  More specifically, if we take it as a given that Wreden’s latest work is in fact a visual novel,  does that necessarily mean it is not a game? Or, to put it in the most controversial way possible, can a novel (you know, a normal book) be a game?
[EPIC SPOILERS AHEAD]
Here are some experiences/thoughts I had while I was playing The Beginner’s Guide:

This narrator’s voice is comforting, can Davey narrate all the games I play?
Man this is some deep psychological shit.
Dude, who builds whole levels that aren’t even accessible?
Oh my God, Coda isn’t even REAL.
Wait. Is Coda real?
Wait, what if Davey is Coda, and I am Davey? That would just be some whiney shit.
Why does EVERY character have a block head except the one girl who is crying?
I love the NOT-ACTUAL-NOTES NOTES THING. OH MAN.
House cleaning and lamp posts: domesticity in the wild, got it.
adding lamp posts! is this what the player does? add lamp posts? projection + making the foreign more familiar. OR – beacon, I am here in your world, come find me.
What is the difference between Davey’s need for validation and loneliness?
Is it really true that we can’t know anything about the author by looking at his work?

OK.  So this is what I think of as definitely necessary in a game:
1) participatory
2) puzzle – so traditionally, we use this in the game world to denote logic puzzles in adventure games, or even just puzzle games – games  that are basically leveled puzzles. But I am expanding “puzzle” here to mean  “interactive challenge that it is necessary to overcome in order to progress.” So that could be combat, or a platformer level, or a more traditional puzzle.
3) progress – true for most media, but also games.  unlike most forms of media,  games aren’t necessarily linear but there are end conditions.

In What Videogames Have to Teach us about Learning and Literacy, James Paul Gee asserts, “two things that, at first sight, look to be ‘mental’ achievements, namely literacy and thinking, are, in reality, also and primarily social achievements.”[1] He goes on to defend this argument by explaining that the reader cannot “privately” or “asocially” read a text. What determines how a person reads, according to Gee, is who she associates herself  with. He stresses that the reader is free to read however she likes, insofar as she can align herself with whatever group or people she chooses, but what she cannot do is read outside the framework of a social narrative altogether. There must be a social narrative. The reader,  then, is constantly interacting with her text, by bringing her social narrative to bear on what she is reading.  Moreover, she is constantly deciding who is in relation to the text, as she reads. In this way, all media is participatory.  Arguably, videogames capitalize on this participation where other forms of media capitalize on other universal traits. A different discussion for another day is why we take the participatory trait of media (i.e. “play”) to be less serious or important than other traits.

In SuperBetter, Jane McGonigal argues that anything can be a game, you simply label your allies, and your bosses, and you get to work.[2]  She believes that gamifying one’s life will increase the amount of time one spends in a  “flow” state, and therefore reduce suffering.
However, the puzzle task seems to me to be forced in McGonigal’s treatment, it involves the literal reorganization of worldview in order to explicitly label something a “puzzle.”  And Fred Rogers, you know – Mr. Rogers – argues that play is work (although he only argues it in regard to children – there is no reason not to extend this argument).[3]

Perhaps the reason why our everyday interactions are not “puzzles” to be “played” is because they don’t cohere neatly into a gamic model. (did I make the word “gamic” up? I don’t think so..) But – as the visual novel type of game, such as The Beginner’s Guide might suggest – could it be that the “gamic model” is simply a progressive narrative structure that has cohered into a specific space? That is, if the novel is the space, and if reading it requires the application of the reader’s experience in the world and her conception of self, as Gee suggests, then could it not be argued that reading is a form of playing, because of the reader-text interaction?

Of course there still remains the challenge of the puzzle, which is a particular sub-narrative, with a more defined interaction.  I think, though counter-intuitive, it is possible to break up a novel into a series of puzzles, using both the novel structure as a general construct and/or the individual structure of an individual novel. I think we might go so far as to say that avid readers are people who enjoy the kind of interactive puzzles that are inherent to the medium of the novel.  These puzzles involve way finding, evaluation of information, even strategy: the application of already-gained knowledge to the construct of the larger narrative in the reader’s mind.

Yet, this very wide reading of the game (that it might involve anything with a structured narrative with which the player/reader/viewer interacts) does a disservice to the traditional medium of the game in exactly one important way: agency. In The Beginner’s Guide, the player has very little agency, and in a novel, the reader has no agency except insofar as she consistently negotiates her own relationship with the text. In a more traditional video game,  she both negotiates this relationship and also substantially affects the environment of the game itself. She cannot affect the environment of the book in the same way, it is static.

Indeed, the player might find The Beginner’s Guide frustrating in the lack of agency it gives you, especially since you are complicit in the narrator’s mistreatment of “Coda,” a possibly fictional game designer.  Likewise, a book that does not allow for satisfying relationship negotiation will go unfinished by the reader. And a traditional video game which feigns more agency that it actually gives often reaps criticism.

That isn’t to say there’s no place within the gaming sphere for games that limit player agency – I do think that you could legitimately argue that all media experiences fall on the game spectrum somewhere, but there is an important question here, and it has not only to do with games but also, say, paranormal romance, and 50 shades of grey and user experience and, like, capitalism and democracy. The question is — and I think it is the most important one that The Beginner’s Guide asks — what does it mean to have agency?

[1] Gee, James Paul. What video games have to teach us about literacy and learning. New York: Palgraw Macmillan (2003).
[2] McGonigal, Jane. SuperBetter: A Revolutionary Approach to Getting Stronger, Happier, Braver and More Resilient — Powered by the Science of Games. Penguin Press First Edition (2015).
[3] Fred Rogers. (n.d.). BrainyQuote.com. Retrieved December 31, 2015, from BrainyQuote.com Web site: http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/quotes/f/fredrogers193081.html

Categories
Film and TV Graphic Novels and Comics Media

Alias and Marvel’s Jessica Jones

51FcV46opWL._SY344_BO1,204,203,200_The Alias Omnibus, by Brian Michael Bendis and Michael Gaydos is the collected comics which follow a minor superhero in the Marvel universe named Jessica Jones. Many people will have heard of the recent Netflix show, Marvel’s Jessica Jones, which is based on these comics. After watching the Netflix show, I ordered the omnibus expecting some good action. I was surprised by the level of character development and the smart humor. While the first season of the Netflix show focuses solely on the main villain from Jessica’s past, who is referred to as The Purple Man in the comics, and Killgrave in the Netflix series, only a small section of the Jessica Jones comics deals with this villain directly. The main focus of the comic series is on Jessica Jones PI jobs, her reluctant interactions with the Avengers, her alcoholism and her contradictory feelings about being a hero. The comics have a very noir feel, and are surprisingly deep. Don’t get me wrong: don’t come here for a literary treatise on the American condition. But if you ever wonder, can a superhero comic ever achieve the depth of character development and world building that a novel can, then Alias is for you (and if you already like superhero comics or graphic novels, then Alias is definitely also for you).

 

 

Netflix series Marvel's Jessica Jones stars Krysten Ritter and David Tenant.The Netflix adaptation of Alias, Marvel’s Jessica Jones, centers around the abusive relationship between Killgrave, who has the power of mind control, and Jessica, who has super strength and super speed, as well as limited flying abilities. Jessica suffers from PTSD and believes Killgrave to be dead. His return forces Jessica to decide whether to run or to play the hero. While addressing many of the same topics that Alias does, I found that Alias did a better job with presenting Jessica as a complex character whose toughness is consistently softened by loneliness. Nonetheless, Marvel’s Jessica Jones is the best thing to come out of the Marvel cinematic universe to date. While some have criticized the show for its pacing, and its decision to focus on the storylines of more minor characters in seemingly pivotal moments, I found it provided a much needed opportunity for world building. While both Alias and Marvel’s Jessica Jones have a lot of action, the story of Jessica Jones is really a thrillingly fucked up coming of age story- it is the story of how Jessica learns to be unrelentingly Jessica despite a world that wants her to be so many other things (and now and then, nothing at all).