The art of telling a story is a simple one. That is, it’s simple as an idea, and if you have the means to get that idea onto paper, you are set to go. As a person who strives for the ability to call himself a writer, I tend to look at things from a narrative viewpoint. This causes a strange breakage in thought when it comes to video games. No, not because video games lack story, but because a video game’s narrative isn’t as simple as say, a movie, or a story. The word “narrative” encompasses so much more here. It is the universe, the world, the flora, the fauna, the shrubbery, the characters, the plot, the camera, the lighting, etc. Video games do not operate like movies, nor like books, they are their own entity, and unfortunately are often ridiculed, underused systems of storytelling. This is often because of a writers perception of a “gamer” as an underaged or underdeveloped human who is looking, perhaps at the most to interact or be immersed in a world, but isn’t looking for a complex story. This is quite wrong, as a number of very intelligent people will point out. That being said, that doesn’t mean that designers or writers believe in their audiences enough.
Being not only a person whom would one day like to call myself a professional writer (or at least a pseudo-professional paid jibber-jabber master) but also one whom plays video games and attends a school that breads experimental fiction, I tend to wonder about these things. Why have writers stayed away from the medium? Are they afraid? More afraid then having there works butchered by a Hollywood film exec? Are they not wanted? Not needed? This doesn’t ring true throughout the magical game developer kingdom, there are plenty of forward thinking people out there churning out great games that combine all the aspects of narrative design. There are designers who believe in storytelling and designers who believe in massive set pieces, there are games that stay on one path and games that give the player a sense of freedom, there are even games that leave the storytelling up to the player. You don’t play Sims, you weave a world, Far Cry 2 doesn’t tell you a story you have to find it; all of these combine different narrative elements to achieve the challenge of player immersion and control. However, few games are willing to challenge this challenge. Few people are willing to play a game that challenges their minds and their hands, and even fewer players are willing to play an experimental game… or, at least that’s what we’d like to think.
If you were to find and talk to Robert Coover or Italo Calvino and ask them a question like, “What would you think about being able to tell a story with branching dialogue in which the reader is allowed to respond, thus branching a new set of dialogue and changing the story?” Both writers, and likely many more would be on board. Look at all the hyperlink fiction of the ’90s, the copious amounts of footnotes in modern novels, or the fourth wall breaking meta-excursions of nearly every modern author. This digital medium should be there playground. But instead we get a far less interesting set of worlds, a science fiction war epic, a science fiction horror story, a fantasy lovecraft, a post apocalyptic wasteland… it’s genre fiction. As with all arguments there are many exceptions, some of which even keep within the restraints of financial success, Fallout 3 is a massive game driven by the player’s motive’s, Bioshock is a science fiction epic, Braid a bizarre dream, Grand Theft Auto IV an immigrants struggle… but by remaining in these genre staples, relying on the conventions, the designers are given a freebie–the world is already accepted, it’s acknowledged, there are rules and regulations. Video games will never step off the grocery store shelf of paperback fiction unless designers believe in their players. A twist doesn’t make a good story, convolution doesn’t make a good story, freedom of choice doesn’t make a good story, stereotypes don’t make a good story… what makes a story special is the interaction that the text has with the reader, the writers trust in a readers intelligence, video games are missing this interaction. Sure, it’s easy to draw you in, “immersion” is the industries hottest catchphrase right now, but that isn’t what makes a story memorable. You can be drawn into a John Grisham novel, but that doesn’t make it good. Learning something about a new world, yourself, others, being made to laugh, cry, wonder, think, interact… that’s a good story.
Of course, if every game tried to do this it won’t work, and there will always be a place for genre-games. Whether its survival-horror or a fantasy RPG, these things will always be staples, they can and will be excellent, and they can and will be played and purchased. Experimental narratives cannot and should not be applied to all games–but they ought to be applied to some. Video games do not have to be solely about challenging a players dexterity, or puzzling their mind with parlor tricks, sometimes it can be more. It doesn’t always have to be escapism or immersion, it doesn’t always have to be multiplayer or filled with war. A narrative is a world, it’s a dynamic system, it’s the control scheme, it’s the flora, it’s the camera angle, it’s the characters, it’s the story–all of these aspects working together are what make video games interesting, it’s what has brought them out of the basement and into the forefront of the entertainment industry. Now there’s a chance to play with them a bit more, push them around, experiment. Sure, not all the experiments are going to work. Not all of them will be successfull, but as long as new ideas are consistantly being put on the table the industry will be in good shape.
This isn’t a new argument, and it’s possible it’s an argument that will never be solved, but to those that say video games can’t tell a good story and have good gameplay: that sounds more like a challenge than a statement.
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