Ian Bogost recently had a piece published on the Atlantic titled Video Games Are Better Without Story. There, he argues that games can only attempt to perform a compelling narrative but it will never be as strong as it’s media predecessors, such as written literature (books without additional media supplements) and film. The argument he attempts to persuade the reader to believe is that the aforementioned mediums of storytelling don’t have to factor in the viewer. He posits that because games have to be made according to the creator’s vision of a story to tell, the player can only have so much influence on a story and thus it becomes a matter of gathering all the right pieces or requirements the game gives you in order to “assemble” the story together.
Bogost uses the Holodeck from Star Trek, a place you inhabit a story and influence it in as many directions as you can think of and act on, as the epitome of narrative video games. Honestly, I have fantasized about the concept about the Holodeck and it’s narrative possibilities. In fact, in the case he makes against attempting a Holodeck-like video game, I agree; I’ve written about how giving too much control to the player can hurt the writer’s attempt to create a strong, compelling narrative. But Bogost seems to have forgotten something.
The Holodeck exists. It’s just called Dungeons & Dragons*.
Narrative Games without Video
The only difference between the two is that one has graphics and the other uses imagination. While some dungeon masters’s may not give a lot of freedom to the players on how to influence the game and the story being created in it (for example, The Adventure Zone), others may approach things in a more sandbox type experience, where they let narratives form themselves, like Critical Role.
Obviously, there’s smaller differences. A dungeon master isn’t free of bias that a computer may be. They might toss a player a bone that helps aide them in the story they’re making or introducing elements to make the narrative presented by the player stronger.
I believe the key problem that Bogost makes in his argument is that games don’t need to emulate film or books: video games are their own medium and can be used in ways other mediums can’t.
Games Offer Replay Value
Let’s look at Oxenfree. (Warning: spoilers ahead.) It’s a small platformer game that tells a story I don’t think could be done justice as a book or a film. The game doesn’t give you the catharsis of an ending. As you finish the game, deciding what Alex, the protagonist, does after you’ve finished the game, Alex suddenly talks as if she’s back at the beginning of the game. She’s trapped, and so are you.
The game’s narrative isn’t complete with one play through. At the very least, the player has to play twice (continuing on from the last save, not starting a new game file) as the story changes in the second play through. Depending on your actions from the last game, some characters may act differently to you. Time is weird, and you’re not quite sure if the first time you play the game was the first time Alex went through the events of that night, but after you begin your second round, it’s definitely not.
The change from the first to the second play through, you’re given the option to call out to an alternate version of Alex, one that exists before she reaches the island where this wonky time stuff takes place and convince her to not go to the island, but this doesn’t save the Alex you play. That Alex, and all other Alexes aside from the one that gets the forewarning, are eternally trapped on that island.
While this counts as an ending to the game, the game is only finished when you stop playing it. I’ve probably played it five or six times, trying to find all the different variations. Or, in Ian Bogost’s words, assembling different narratives together.
Others Don’t Do It Better
Film, TV shows, and books don’t do stories better than video games, they just do stories and they do them differently because they’re different mediums. When a book is adapted into a film, one could argue the film is a poor adaption of a book, but a film can create a story that couldn’t be written well into a book either. They’re completely different mediums. It’s why novels need to be adapted to screen plays rather than going scene by scene and expecting it to be the same.
Video games, I argue, can tell different stories, and that doesn’t mean they’re the same or better than the other mediums. The Last of Us is a story that couldn’t be told as a film without getting rid of a lot of the content. More closely, linear narratives like The Last of Us resemble books. Like books, a lot of games are too long to completely play/read through in one sitting. They’re meant to be picked up and set down. While games take away the interpretive nature of stories told in books, books take away the personal feeling that games provide.
In the case of The Last of Us, you play as Joel trying his best to keep Ellie and himself alive. In a book, you follow Joel in his journey. In a game, you are Joel in his journey. While you can’t change the outcome, you’re placed in the shoes of Joel.
More importantly, games like Papers Please are only effective by placing the player in that role in order to convey a certain message. The narrative is then personal, a product of your choices. While the narrative of the game itself may not be cohesive standing alone, how it effects the person playing it defines the real meaning and the real narrative of the game, much like reader response theory in literature.
The Folly of Prioritizing “Pure” Games
Tetris is a video game, and no one will argue that. Historically and culturally, Tetris is a good video game, but the desire for narrative (or reason) in games is something we can see in culture. Look up “Ms. Pacman fanfiction.” It exists. Whether it’s provided or not, some will want to find the “why” for perhaps no other reason that the fun of it.
Outside the virtualized game, we insert story into sports as well. You could just watch a football game at face value, but you may want to mute it as the commentators will tell you all the background information of the players for either team. For people that follow the teams, there’s an unintentional narrative for a team’s fall or success, and it only exists as the viewer interprets it.
An even better non-virtual version of this is wrestling. There exist shows and tournaments that are simply about who can fight the best, but the narrative element, though often scripted or improvised with the intention of a certain result, draws in large crowds even though they know its fake. Some that watch the fictionalized wrestling don’t care for the “pure” wrestling.
Overall, just because television, film, and books have some better control over their narratives than games, it doesn’t make them better, and it doesn’t make the narratives that video games tell any lesser. It just makes it a narrative told by a game.
*Or other collaborative storytelling tabletop games.
Video Games Deconstructed 