After nearly four months, the teasing is finally over.
What's sad is I really wanted to see the event live. Aksys had a twitch stream set up for their AX panel long beforehand and advertised for it repeatedly. But it never ended up working. So I sat at my desk for an hour staring at a blank twitch screen that refused to change (other than the constant spamming of chat).
Eventually, I settled for live tweets and the hopeful thought that someone out there will post a video to YouTube maybe a week from now.
So when I finally read online that Uchikoshi himself announced Zero Escape 3, there were tears. Which I expected of course. I knew I would either cry with excitement or sob with horrible, crushing disappointment. What I didn't expect was a little bit of both. I am so amazingly thrilled that the game I want most--the game I thought could never exist--is finally going to be in my hands next year. I just wish I could have been a part of that moment instead of reading hastily jotted tweets for an hour. It really was a depressing letdown.
The good news is I will definitely be over it by next summer.
7/3/2015 5:01 EDIT: They are trying to re-stream... This experience may yet be salvaged!
7/3/2015 5:26 EDIT: So the re-stream worked! Aksys redeemed themselves and shared the long teased reveal (about an hour later) with the rest of us who couldn't make it to LA. The announcement was surprisingly short and sweet, and I definitely bawled like a baby during the entire thing. I'm just glad I got to see it. And I really can't wait until 2016 now. What a great time to be a gamer!
Video games can do something that literature and film cannot realistically accomplish; A game can take the player, deposit them in another world, and allow them to interact directly with it.
Now before I offend all of my beloved bibliophiles and cinephiles, let me emphasize that these mediums have other strengths not shared by video games.
I would argue that books can provide a more detailed rendering of any given experience, so long as it is powered mutually by the intricate weaving of words and the adequate strength of the reader's imagination. In that sense, the author and the reader work together to create the experience.
Contrastingly, movies have the distinct ability to convey a precise story (complete with perfectly edited sound, visuals, script, tone, and acting) to millions of people with the only true variation being in its interpretation. That in itself is immensely powerful, as a relatively small crew of people can share an amazingly uniform message to a huge audience.
Both are beautiful art forms that games cannot replace.
But through their interactivity, games can send a message that novels and films can't. Because the player is a part of the experience, and this encourages him or her to be far more empathetic and exposed.
Empathy. Not to be confused with sympathy, empathy is a very difficult thing to draw out of someone in a subtle and natural way when they are just looking to be entertained, yet video games do it exceptionally well.
I can demonstrate this simply by honing in on five distinct feelings: accomplishment, vulnerability, attachment, responsibility, and anguish. For each emotion, I will provide two or three video game examples that elicit that particular form of empathy from the player.
Because I will be relying heavily on the connections between interactive gameplay and the narrative itself, there will certainly be some spoilers from here on out. With this in mind, I have hidden the remaining content of this post behind show/hide buttons whether I felt they were particularly "spoilery" or not. That way you can ensure your own reading experience is spoiler free.
If you wish to know what games I will be discussing, I have listed them here for your convenience. If you spot a game you know you wish to play someday, I would definitely avoid reading that particular portion of this post. As always, continue at your own risk.
Games to be discussed:
Uncharted
Portal
The Last of Us
Heavy Rain
999
Middle Earth: Shadow of Mordor
Tomb Raider
The Walking Dead: Season 1
Mass Effect 2
The World Ends With You
Final Fantasy VII: Crisis Core
I'll start with the most obvious feeling video games love to make you feel.
Interactivity Allows the Player to Feel Accomplished
Example 1: The Uncharted Series
There's nothing like putting yourself in Nathan Drake's epic shoes to make you feel like the most amazing, most heroic adventurer there ever was. Every time you conquer an obstacle--whether it be an army of thugs or a particularly daunting puzzle complete with ridiculously far-fetched jumps--this beautifully warm feeling of satisfaction floods into your brain. You did it. You didn't just watch Nathan take out that entire train, complete with machine gun and heavy brutes. You did it.
Example 2: Portal
I distinctly remember how I felt the first time I played Portal. I can still feel my own hesitant confusion in the early hours of the game. I can recall my growing distrust of GLaDOS, the increasingly hostile AI. But the moment I feel proudest of was that fateful moment in test chamber 19 when I was promised cake and was instead ushered slowly toward a flaming pit, about to be burned alive. You are given a few seconds to decide what to do, and I remember it feeling more like a painful eternity as I struggled with the scenario. I kept asking myself, "what am I supposed to do?" and "what does the game want me to do?" Finally, I realized these were not the right questions to be asking myself. I wasn't going to listen to this murderous AI anymore. I wanted to be free! I didn't realize until years later how truly brilliant this is. Because simultaneously, the main character (Chell) and the player (you and I) are both stepping outside of the boundaries provided for us. No longer are we obediently working through test chamber after test chamber. That moment left me with such satisfaction, particularly because I accomplished this feat on my first try.
Interactivity Pushes the Player to Feel Vulnerable
Example 3: The Last of Us
The Last of Us is loaded with examples of how the gameplay is specifically designed to draw on the player's vulnerabilities whether they be physical, mental, or emotional. In fact, the Naughty Dog team sets this in motion right from the beginning. When the prologue begins, you do not play as Ellie. We're twenty years too early for that. Nor do we play as strong, capable Joel. When the outbreak first shatters the world and brings forth its heart wrenching chaos, you play as small, lovable, fragile Sarah. They did this on purpose, and we can infer their reasoning was at least two-fold.
First, it gives the player a better chance of connecting to Sarah when you play as her. There is attachment there because when you moved your controller, Sarah was the one who interacted with the world for you. It sped up the bonding process. It's vaguely similar to how ranches never name the animals because it makes it harder when you lose them. Naming them causes accelerated attachment. It makes things personal.
Second, playing as Sarah makes the player feel weak and fearful, which is the perfect way to start out a game where the world is a broken and violent place. I remember first walking Sarah through the house in Austin and noting her body language. Hunched over with hands firmly across her chest, walking slowly and nervously, she looked a lot like I imagine I would in that situation. It perfectly projects her vulnerability onto the player.
This same emotion is felt through other interactive segments of The Last of Us, including when: Joel carries Sarah with Tommy as their only defense; Joel must slowly hobble out of the university with a life-threatening injury while being pursued by hunters; and Ellie must do enough to survive on her own and protect Joel through the winter despite being weak.
There is one more that comes to mind as I write, though it is a bit different in that it doesn't communicate vulnerability. However, it is an excellent example of how interactivity affects the gaming experience, so I will list it here. At the end of the game, when Joel busts into that operating room, many people expected either a choice or a cutscene. Instead, what happened is the player was forced to take action, eliminate the doctor(s), and take Ellie back. This is brilliant because it provides no excuses to the player. The player doesn't get to just sit back and watch a PlayStation rendered video clip. They don't get to choose a nicer ending. The ending is what it is, and the player is the one that has to pull the trigger. In that way, The Last of Us makes us take ownership of the ending and really grapple with it in a more meaningful way.
Example 4: Heavy Rain
I think it is safe to say that the entire game of Heavy Rain is one big quick time event/adventure game hybrid. While I know there are plenty of people out there who despise QTEs with a fiery hot passion, I do think they were executed rather well for Heavy Rain's purposes.
In order to understand my reasoning, it is important to contrast typical QTEs with the ones found in Heavy Rain. Most games have the player perform a quick time event in a way that closely resembles a cutscene. The playable character moves largely on their own save a few buttons the player must press within a limited amount of time. If the player presses the incorrect button or takes too long, the main character usually dies and the player is forced to replay the cutscene until they do it correctly.
However, with Heavy Rain, the entire game is a QTE. And if you fail, you don't replay anything; instead, you must accept your failure and the resulting consequences as you continue on with the game. In this way, Heavy Rain makes every action you take--no matter how trivial--feel like it could irreversibly affect the rest of your experience.
Interactivity Encourages the Player to Feel Connected
Example 5: 999 (Zero Escape 1)
As everyone who has taken more than a glance at this blog would know, I am a huge Zero Escape fan. It is without a doubt one of the most well written games I have ever played. What I haven't yet spoken of is how its mechanics enhance the already brilliant experience.
There are two distinct examples of interactivity in 999 that really made me as the player feel like an integral part of what was happening in the game. The first is the multiple endings feature that is executed far differently than any other game I've seen. The second is the final puzzle. Both examples stand alone, so I will discuss them separately.
Lots of games have multiple endings. Mass Effect, Chrono Trigger, Persona 4, Catherine, and Heavy Rain are just a few examples. But with most games, having different story endings that are all isolated from one another leads to the player experiencing separate scenarios and eventually satisfying him/herself with the "true" ending, None of the other endings really happened. They were all just possibilities that may have been.
Zero Escape takes a different approach. It takes the idea of multiple endings and makes them all essential to the plot. Because--and here's the crazy part--the main character unknowingly has the ability to access information from other timelines. So once you have experienced a "bad" timeline, you and the main character both have new knowledge necessary to progress further into the story from another timeline. That is, you and the main character learn something in timeline A and use it in timeline B despite not having a legitimate excuse for knowing the information learned from timeline A in the first place. It is a lovely system because your experiences as the player are mirrored by the main character. What results is a feeling of being connected to the main character in a rather surreal way.
The second example from 999 is very subtle and much simpler, but it happens when you get to the sudoku puzzle at the end. It sounds trivial, but when I had to flip my DS upside down, there was something there that got me all choked up. I guess it was the thought of being able to save the scared little girl on the other end of that puzzle that made it feel very real and important. To the game's creator I wanted to say, "well done, Uchikoshi. You got me."
Example 6: Middle Earth: Shadow of Mordor
This one will be short and sweet instead of all the long-winded stuff I normally write. Shadow of Mordor has something called the Nemesis System. It means that the enemies you face (the important ones at least) remember you. They remember vanquishing you or else they remember their own crushing defeat. In fact, the enemies in Shadow of Mordor make a point to bring it up frequently. If they lost, they will swear vengeance. If they won they will gloat shamelessly. Even the enemies' character models reflect the affect your character had on them. If you beheaded them, they might have a head all wrapped up in bandages next time. If you blew them up in a raging fire, they might be burning a flame atop their head upon your second encounter. There are plenty of other cool changes the baddies endure as they hunt you down unceasingly. What ends up eventually happening is you develop this awful rivalry with that one disgusting Uruk who won't leave you alone. It's fantastic.
Example 7: Tomb Raider
My experience with the 2013 Tomb Raider reboot was largely influenced by this article by GameSpot blogger Tom McShea. It talks about the dichotomy of available play styles in the game as various weapons become available to Lara. Do you go through the game stealthily with your bow taking out enemies with them oblivious of the coming threat? Do you go in with guns ablazing fueled by Lara's righteous fury? Either way the choice in gameplay style allows the player to project his or her feelings onto Lara.
Interactivity Forces the Player to Feel Responsible
Example 8: The Walking Dead (Season 1)
I've mentioned this before, but remember when I stole those rations and supplies out of that apparently abandoned car? There is something about the way the stranger in episode 5 confronted me that made me feel immensely responsible for the way the game turned out in the end.
Books can't do that to me. Movies can't do that to me either. Because in those mediums, none of the things that happen are my fault. In fact, I can pick everything apart and reassure myself that the situation in question would never happen to me because I am just too smart to stumble into such circumstances. Horror movies are always susceptible to that mentality (not that I watch them...way too full of images you can't unsee).
But in a game, it is my fault in a way. I made the choice within the confines of the game, and I would have to deal with the consequences.
Example 9: Mass Effect 2
Like Telltale's The Walking Dead, this series is all about the choices you make. I chose the second entry in the series because of the epic third act, the "suicide mission". Shepard is tasked with assigning roles to each of his crew members in the hopes of utilizing their strengths, guarding their weaknesses, and keeping everyone alive. That's right. Their survival is entirely dependent upon your choices and adequate preparation. If you don't do this right, you could ultimately feel responsible for your favorite character's untimely demise.
Interactivity Compels the Player to Feel Anguish
Example 10: The World Ends With You
In this Square Enix cult classic, the MC is forced to play a game with his life (among other things) at stake. By offering up what he values most as a sort of blind bet, the main character (Neku) must gamble on something called "the reaper's game" for a week with the grand prize being an opportunity to reclaim his own destiny and move on. Only it doesn't happen like that at all.
Neku finds himself being cheated repeatedly and forced to play for a second week and then a third. The unfairness is evident as more and more is taken away from him, ridiculous loopholes keep him from getting out of it, and even his chance to succeed is heavily interfered with. What results is the player's own despairing mentality as you play the same week long game three times over. You feel the way Neku feels as you confront a game that isn't exactly what you thought it was.
Example 11: Final Fantasy VII: Crisis Core
Now here is an ending my husband and I have spent hours here and there discussing in depth. If you are reading this one thinking you will never play it so you may as well read, please do yourself a favor now and click the hide button. This is about as big as a spoiler can get, and it’s not worth wrecking such a beautiful ending. Instead of reading this, go find an old PSP and a used copy of the game (Crisis Core alone is reason enough to buy the outdated system). Or at least go watch the movie version on YouTube. This game is too good to spoil here. So again, turn back now if you haven’t played. Pretty please.
Free advertising aside, you know those games where you are forced to enter a battle, fight beautifully 80% of the way toward victory, are forced to quit, and then are shown a cutscene in which you lose despite how well you performed? Crisis Core doesn't do that.
Oh you will lose. Epically. By fighting until you can't fight anymore. For however long it takes. With no indication that you are actually supposed to lose. So you fight tooth and nail past one hundred, five hundred, a thousand enemies. And finally it clicks. You can't win. The infinite tide of enemies eventually overtakes you.
Now they easily could have changed this experience into a cutscene, taken the power away from the player, and shown you the inevitable end to the battle. But they didn't. They let you experience the ending and interact with it, and it makes the climax heartfelt and memorable and heartbreaking in a way that a regular old cutscene couldn't have.
It Can't Be Found Elsewhere
Yes, games tell a story. Games can be a lot of fun, too. But ultimately, they provide a unique way to communicate emotion in that they can imprint feelings onto the player. And the industry is still so young, meaning every day developers learn new ways to accomplish this amazing feat. It's a fascinating concept that at this point only video games can effectively utilize, and it is exciting to think about how they will use it next.
