A Crisis of Form

Recent years have witnessed an increasing variety of games that interrogate traditional purposes of 'play'. However, such a generalised term does not prove helpful unless it is understood that computer games denote a highly specialised form of play. As David Buckingham rightly points out 'All games must be played, but not all play takes the form of a game' (6) What, then are the definable features of game-specific play? Renowned game-critic Jesper Juul provides the following definition:

'1) Games are rule-based. 2) Games have variable quantifiable outcomes. 3) The different potential outcomes of the game are assigned different values, some being positive, some being negative. 4) The player invests effort in order to influence the outcome. 5) The players are attached to the outcomes of the game in the sense that a player will be the winner and "happy" if a positive outcome happens, and loser and "unhappy" if a negative outcome happens' (Juul 35).

This is one of many working definitions game-critics regularly cite, but most features listed are generally agreed upon in scholarly circles. It is noticeable that these attributes are equally applicable to board games, card games, or sports; these are the direct antecedents of the videogame. It is this definition that circumscribes 'gameness' and the very same that contemporary videogames have increasingly failed to adhere to.

This distortion of traditional 'gameplay' dynamics is often the result of games pursuing diegetic aspirations. Heavy Rain (2010) is a murder mystery adventure game[i] which focuses obsessively upon expanding the minutiae of its narrative. Players may brush the protagonist's teeth, engage in idle chit-chat, or engage in any number of other activities which can only tenuously be described as 'gameplay'. Some games have even begun to state their subversive intents clearly: Amnesia: The Dark Descent (2011) is a first person horror game which, upon opening, urges the player that 'Amnesia should not be played to win. Instead, focus on immersing yourself in the game's world and story' ("Amnesia: The Dark Descent"). If winning is no longer the objective of such games, is their primary function now the expression of their 'world and story'? Some games take this ethos even further: Dear Esther (2011) is a recent game modification[ii], for the videogame Half Life 2 in which there are arguably no 'play' elements whatsoever [Please refer to V. A1]. The game features no objectives, win or lose scenarios or perceptible rules of play. As the video demonstrates, Dear Esther is merely a single environment the player is free to explore, slowly excavating the game's fragmented narrative through diary entries and cryptic hieroglyphics. When asked how to define his work, Dan Pinchbeck one of Dear Esther's creators responded as follows: 'I often find myself avoiding the word "game", I prefer to describe it as more of an experience or story' (Denby 28).

[V. A1] Opening of Dear Esther followed by tunnel exploration.

These are a handful of highly polarised examples in a wider canonical trend. The four aforementioned games have overtly sacrificed elements of gameplay to pursue narrative aspirations, however, these developments have also permeated major generic foundations. Some genres are now expected provide narrative experiences where they lacked any diegetic content whatsoever. What the previous examples demonstrate about this trend is the tension it causes between 'gameplay' and 'narrative': some game developers have attempted to nullify the majority of gameplay elements to leave the bones of a narrative structure bare, others have tried to keep them in separate representational spheres, and most interestingly, an even greater number have attempted to synthesise these two elements. The canon is experiencing a crisis of expression: how can videogames articulate their narratives and still function as structures of dynamic play?

[Figure 1.1] A conversational moment in Heavy Rain

[Figure 1.2] Coded scrawlings in Dear Esther

Before this question is investigated further, it is important to establish a basic history of videogame genre and diegesis. The umbrella term 'game', like 'literature' includes a vast ocean of electronic media from disparate cultures and traditions. Discussing a collective history of 'narrative driven games' is not a simple task: every genre, and game within that genre, possesses different tools for producing diegesis. However, I shall provide a simplified (and necessarily reductive) explanation: videogames are divided by genres that have developed from their arcade[iii] and console origins, for instance, space shooters, beat'em ups and platformers. These genres originally possessed negligible diegetic content, however, in the past forty years the frameworks which support games have undergone hundreds of hardware[iv] and software mutations which have allowed for the mass propagation of form and genre. The primary texts discussed in this dissertation all belong to one of the following categories: First Person Shooter[v], Role Playing Game[vi], or Action Adventure. Above all others genres, these have assimilated narrative structure into their composition through the complex shifting of generic boundaries and capabilities. However, these games are not disparate entities, they all share common aspects which lend themselves well to diegesis: they are all single player experiences, they tend to include human player-surrogates[vii] and characters, and they all feature goal-oriented dynamics[viii].

The questions remains, how have these genres have traditionally expressed their narratives? Why is this crisis of expression in the gaming canon only a recent phenomenon? The answers to these complex questions cannot be attributed to any single factor, but I shall attempt a brief explanation. The rise of narrative storytelling in games is arguably related to the transition of the gaming canon from abstract to representational environments. The first electronic games were abstract in nature (Wolf 50). because the aesthetic capacity of hardware was extremely limited. [Please refer to Figures 2.1 to2.3]. As time progressed, advances in computational power and image rendering supplied the ability for game-space to more accurately emulate the real world, games moved into 3D and ultimately began to present more representational worlds. This audiovisual advancement required increasingly sophisticated content to frame its gameplay; narrative techniques filled this void perfectly. Catalysed by the rise of representational worlds, narrative and character sophistication in certain genres are now basic expectations: players want characters that look and behave more human.

[Figure 2.1] An abstract environment in Battlezone

[Figure 2.2] An environment with textures, sprites and simple colour in Wolfenstein 3D

[Figure 2.3] Taken from Crysis (2007), a modern benchmark of visual sophistication.

Out of these developments were born a multitude of methods for games to express narrative content. Some of these techniques were integrative: within the game-engine[ix] characters became imbued with basic conversational capability and game scenarios generally provided a diegetic context. However, scenes of narrative complexity still proved difficult to express in an integrative manner. As a result, game developers immediately sought to emulate pre-existent methods of conveying narrative content: those of literature, theatre, and cinema. In the 1980s, Adventure games and RPGs began to use reams of prose for expositional purposes, allowing more complex events to be conveyed to the user. When hardware advanced further still the cutscene[x] and FMV[xi] became favourite techniques with developers: when they wished to supply the player with a narrative development the game environment would switch to a pre-rendered[xii] video. [Please refer to Figures 3.1 and 3.2]

[Figure 3.1] Still images and prosaic exposition in Gateway (1992)

Figure 3.2 - An FMV from the Japanese RPG Final Fantasy VII (1997)

There are two factors regarding these developments that mark them as separate from the current gaming condition. Firstly, heavily diegetic moments were, for the most part, clearly separate (if only chronologically) from gameplay: FMVs and cutscenes involved denying the player agency for a short period of time, thereby creating pockets of filmic experience that punctuated the gameplay. Secondly, narrative was generally a subordinate factor designed to augment the other qualities of a game. A specific moment of transition from this state to current conditions is impossible to identify, rather, the rise in diegetic integration and importance has been a process of gradual, systemic change.

The primary texts in this dissertation have been included on the basis that they represent key moments in the gaming canon, gesturing towards its seemingly endless possibilities as well as its limitations. Each of the three games relates to three vital questions I shall explore surrounding contemporary gaming diegesis. Firstly, can 'narrative' be identified as a separate element from 'gameplay'? Secondly, is it possible to 'play' a narrative? Thirdly, have videogames produced a genuinely unique form of diegesis?

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