I was considering a lot of different opening lines when I began writing the script for this video. Like, a lot. But I think the best possible way to start this, and really describe a fact of life, is Sans words to you at the end of undertale. He mentions in his speech to you a quote that was so powerful yet so obvious, I often wondered why no other game or book I had read had put it into words. (show video) “The more you kill, the easier it is to distance yourself.” In other words, the more you hurt, the easier it will be to hurt others. Today I will be talking about The Choice of Empathy in games. Remember, if you like these videos and you want to see more, make sure to like and subscribe, it really helps me out. Additionally, feel free to leave a comment, I will probably respond to you. Be warned, there will be spoilers for the following games. And when I say spoilers, I mean I might spoil some of like the biggest moments in the games. Seriously this time.
Back with another video essay. Worked really hard on this one. I was considering a lot of different opening lines when I began writing the script for this video. Like, a lot. But I think the best possible way to start this, and really describe a fact of life, is Sans words to you at the end of undertale. He mentions in his speech to you a quote that was so powerful yet so obvious, I often wondered why no other game or book I had read had put it into words. (show video) “The more you kill, the easier it is to distance yourself.” In other words, the more you hurt, the easier it will be to hurt others. Today I will be talking about The Choice of Empathy in games. Remember, if you like these videos and you want to see more, make sure to like and subscribe, it really helps me out. Additionally, feel free to leave a comment, I will probably respond to you. Be warned, there will be spoilers for the following games. And when I say spoilers, I mean I might spoil some of like the biggest moments in the games. Seriously this time.
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Today is Short Story Wednesday, so I thought I might share a personal favorite of mine that I wrote. Worked on it for a class, and I was really happy with how it came out. I sit in my silly little apartment, staring at this television. The alarm clock to my side reads 7:00 in the P.M. That means post meridian. I didn’t know that until a week ago when I said PM and my friend said post meridian, and I called him a fool to establish dominance, but it turns out he was right. It is night, and as I enjoy my beer and stare at the dingy screen, I begin to relax. I am too poor to afford cable, and I think Netflix is a waste of time. But I do have my news. And I read newspapers. Oh boy, they are oh so captivating. The darkness encapsulates me as the light from the TV screen shines brightly, a beacon in my dark shrouded world. So I watch the news. It’s funny. Some people say stories, like fiction, take you places far beyond your wildest dreams. Well, I think news does the same for me. I could be like Big Man, rich beyond my wildest beliefs. Or I could be Arnold Umbach, the president of the United States, with all the power in the world, dangling the world by its strings. I could be any one of those important people. For just 2 hours every day, I am suddenly not a construction worker. I am both invincible and a victim of some of the most horrible crimes in the world. It makes me wonder-- “I am Chester Folk, and this is CC4 at 7. These are your stories for the week…” Hi, everyone, it's Justin with a very much belated post. I promise to write poetry every Monday and Friday, so here is this poem inspired by a character that has been bouncing around in my head. I often try to understand my characters through thoughts, and while it isn't realistic at all, it is so awesome to make your villain a poet.
Beauty in Destruction I find beauty in the solemn nature of apocalypse, As I bathe in its ruinous wake. The thick smog covers the air, oppressing those Who only vie for liberation. The shrapnel sprinkled throughout the dirt, Embedding itself in any one of its unfortunate victims. Mothers screaming, hoping a false God will answer their prayers, Thinking that perhaps if they scream louder, their loved ones will return. I walk through the rubble, and I see the suffering of those Who cannot afford shelter. They are all citizens of a corrupted world. The fat guilty charlatans who sit on top of Capitol Hill Only care for themselves. They are clever enough to fear change. But not clever enough to outsmart me. One after another, they have fallen. Every day, I near closer To breaking America. The brave, the bold -- They don’t matter anymore. They can’t stop this apocalypse. Nobody can. I feel the suffocating embrace of soot and death, A beauty to behold. All around me, there is only raw emotion. There are no Latinos, no caucasians, no men or women, Only humans. People who have been peeled back To their most base instincts: to survive. It’s funny how we often characterize relatively minor Squabbles in history as world-ending. World War I, a war fought for gold and stupidity, World War II, a weak empire attempting to conquer. These fools against me only see the nearing end of the world, But I know better. They see the end, I see a new beginning. Their era of tyranny and exploitation is over. Long live the king. -C Hope you enjoyed it, I promise I won't mess up tomorrow. Thanks, -Justin Hey, everyone,it's Justin back with another video game essay. Make sure to check out my channel, as well, where I come out with one every week. I will be talking a fair amount about the game September 1999, and a few other ones, so be warned, there are spoilers for the games September 1999, What Remains of Edith Finch, and Presentable Liberty. This is Nth Times the Charm, and the study of how games can tell a story or establish atmosphere using repetitive storytelling. To begin talking about this repetition to tell a story, I want to look back on a personal favorite of mine: What Remains of Edith Finch. I’ve discussed this game before, but I think it’s still a good example of what I am trying to explain here. What Remains of Edith Finch is about a family whose members all die relatively young, and you as the last remaining member of the Finch family explore this colossal shrine to your dead family members that is the Finch house. You go through each of the members rooms, and you read the story of what happened to them, and I want to focus on one of those stories: Walter’s story. Walter was a member of the Finch family who was so terrified of this “family curse” he builds a bunker underneath the house and lives there for 30 years until he finally leaves and gets run over by a train. I don’t want to quite focus on the death, but I do want to focus on the moments leading up to his death. Walter’s story is quite short, taking only around 7 minutes, but it uses repetition to communicate to the player that 50 years has passed. You as the player repeat the same routine 4 times: Wake up to an alarm with music, there’s a rumbling, you eat a can of beans, then your day is over. Each day uses different music, but the routine is the same. There is also the calendar to your left to indicate passage of time, but that’s another small but important detail. This repetition with slightly different variables added to it shows passage of time, but the calendar on the wall indicates just how much time has passed. This is a great utilization of repetition, and not only helps tell the story, it is necessary to. Another absolutely incredible game that is definitely worth mentioning here is Presentable Liberty. Presentable Liberty is an indie horror game where your character finds themselves locked in a small room. You only become aware of the horrors going on outside through letters and other bits of stuff that comes your way. There’s a lot to unpack in this very simple and focused perspective, and I’m sure I’ll do something on that later. But, Presentable Liberty is one of my favorite games, and it tells a story through a similar routine, slowly removing more and more of the structure as the game goes along, almost resembling growing up itself. You get little letters, and packets, and things from the outside world, all while trapped inside your room. You don’t see any of the horrors going on outside, but you are aware of them all the same, albeit from a different perspective. These stories that repeat themselves all have something in common, in that they are the same setting, with almost the same routine, but more and more variables are tweaked little by little until the story feels so much bigger than the box you are in. I’m sure I’ll talk more about that later. Which brings me to one of my favorite games, September 1999. Brutally quick and simple, this five-minute game is crafted wonderfully from the view of a found-footage VHS recorder. You start off at the end of a hallway, and walk towards a room a grand total of 3 times, with each cycle getting more gruesome and bloody until you are greeted to something out of a visceral nightmare. The game is a surprising 5 minutes long, and lacks any sort of dialogue, but it tells a story using repetition. What is that story? Perhaps it’s someone’s memory of an event through the eyes of a literal camera, and slowly adds more and more detail to the original memory, perhaps in denial of the events the first few times around. Or perhaps it represents someone’s descent into madness, using repetition to indicate a deterioration of someone’s sanity. But it doesn’t even matter. The game adds more detail with each passing repetition. Now, how you can walk down and respawn at the same place 3 times in 5 minutes is a riddle perhaps Houdini couldn’t even answer. However you choose to interpret it, September 1999 is a beautifully simple game: Walk down a hallway, and find out more. There are no jumpscares, and there are no monsters you experience in the game. No antagonist, no one to block you from completing your journey, except for the dread that builds up inside you. It’s this simple repetition of the same themes, going over and over again, that helps to build up atmosphere in September 1999. Thanks for reading.
-Justin New poem. I try writing what I can't know. This is weird, but it's essentially me existing in 7 places at once.
I. I sit in front of a chessboard The silence stifles my nerves The game of the century Nobody to play with. I am isolated. II. I see me sitting across from me. I move the black pawn, smiling in satisfaction. I carefully consider my next move. The white pawn moves. This shall be difficult indeed. III. Now I am sitting on me, while I am also sitting on me, Across the table. My mind is cloudy, as I process my 4 realities at once I am using me as support, to sit down, and rest my weary soul. Yet, as I rest, I grow more restless. IV. I decide to move the castle, which I personally disagree with. I try to become more comfortable, but as I rest I become more restless. The pressure of being a supportive creature, not a selfish one. I rustle my branches, made of skin, flesh, and bones. My gnarled hands providing shade for me. I am forever doomed to be myself. V. I feel enlightened and exhilarated all at the same time. Destiny is screaming my name, as I groan with myself, albeit for different reasons. The queen decides to move. She is solid and mighty. Yet, I don’t see her move, and I do see her move. Because I am moving her. I am the God of this universe, I am staring down at myself. I have become the world. VI. It is strange how I know how much I know. The warm office around me, the computer on my desk. The chessboard in front of me. It is regular-sized and miniature, all at the same time. These realities are all existing at the same time. They are not different, but one and the same. VII. I am staring at the window, which only the two of us are aware of. Yet, I am aware of at the same time. All eyes are mine, because they are only the two. My mind is tearing at the seams, but I want more. I have become God, and I will never let this go. I desire more perspective. Let me know what you think. I'm always interested in feedback. Thanks, Justin Hey, everyone,
Wrote this story for a class, want to know what you all think of it. It's unnamed, but I quite like it. The two of them sat down at the table. One very old, the other very young. The old man was named Oliver, and he had just walked with his grandson James to the park to teach him how to play chess. The warm fall wind swept through the trees, ruffling the thick white hair on his head like that of a plains rolling in the wind. The murky lake reflected back the sun, like it always did, and the leaves gently coated the ground. “Ah,” Oliver said, as he sat down at the metal bench. He motioned to James to sit down at the bench, watching with awe as he hopped up onto the bench. Many years ago he had been able to do the same, but now his old joints bristled at the idea of a simple hop. James began to open the box, spilling all the pieces all over the table, a gust of wind almost blowing them off. “How do you play, Pop-pop?” Oliver sighed, as he picked up the pieces and began arranging them in their places, neat little soldiers worn down by the countless battles they had seen. The chess board on the bottom, followed by all the pieces on top. He had done it a million times, and this time was no different. Before he knew it, the pieces were all set up. James stared at Oliver, a quizzical look on his face. He was waiting for the game to begin. But Oliver had other concerns on his mind. He wanted to tell James that he might not be around much longer. That when people get old, they don’t get old forever. One day, they will stop getting old, and you won’t be able to talk to them. You won’t be able to play chess with them, or take walks in the park. Nowadays people told their young children their loved one had gone to Peru. When Uncle Jack died, his parents simply stated, “Uncle Jack is dead. He’s gone. You can’t play chess with him, or take walks in the park. He’s dead. End of discussion.” Wrote this poem. You might enjoy, you might not. It has like, swears in it and stuff.
Fucking Thing by Justin Sullivan The music floods the air. The bass is pumping. The only thing more exciting than the music is the notion that at least for one night, I am not alone. Maybe I won’t have to be alone. There is hope. We are jumping up and down now. It is so nice. I feel welcomed and enjoyed. And then, the unthinkable. I stub my toe. But this time, it is so bad. The pain shoots through my foot. Something is wrong. I am hurt. Why did God give me feet? They are my greatest tool, yet somehow, they are my mortal flaw, the achilles’ heel of my world. Think about that. Today I will be talking about What Remains of Edith Finch and the various ways games use to explain a player that a character has died. I am going to be discussing specific examples from games, so be warned, there are spoilers for the following games This is the art of death. Remember, if you like these videos and you want to see more, make sure to like and subscribe, would really help me out. So, to understand what sets apart Edith Finch’s storytelling and deaths, it’s important to understand the different ways games can portray deaths: showing vs. telling. Telling There is of course the obvious way to explain that a character has died, and it is the end of the run: Just having the character die, and you see a bloodied screen or your character crumples to the ground. One of my favorite games to do this is the Halo series, which made for some hilariously ridiculous deaths with overexaggerated death noises. You get to see your character die, fly off a cliff, and all the other various violations your corpse will experience. Your corpse, and this death scene, is disposable to the story, and only serves to indicate failure to the player. No one is invincible or immortal, and these deaths make that clear. These deaths serve a purpose to the game, but not to the narrative as a whole. These deaths are often in the first person, and you directly experience the deaths yourself, looking on with frustration after dying for the millionth time. Death is more of a formality than anything else. You just respawn after you die at your last checkpoint, and brute force your way through the story until you get it. This is the visual equivalent of telling in a video game, and it does what it needs to do in the games it’s in. Showing But there is a different way to tell a story, and particularly that a character has died. One example I can think of this sort of storytelling is the infamous, but still relevant to this video, Five Nights at Freddy’s 4. Many people will scoff at this, but I think this game is a good example of what I’m trying to explain here. Five Nights at Freddy’s 4 was a welcome break from reality in the FNAF universe in a way. The animatronics were not real, but exaggerated nightmares from the eyes of a child. You can see various hints that perhaps the bedroom isn’t real either, as you occasionally see IV fluids or flowers on the table, indicating that you are hallucinating in a hospital room. I want to focus on a very small detail at the end of the game, though. It’s perhaps only a few seconds, but at the end of the game as it fades to black, you hear a flatline in the background, indicating your character has died. This is a good way to explain to the player that the character has died, while also not having to go through the trouble of coding that scene. And besides, it probably would not have worked in this game. Another game that does this is the Red Hood DLC in Arkham Knight, and the ending of Arkham Knight. The joker explains his descent into madness, what happened to him through a whimsical hallucination, and you as the player get to see the end of the tunnel. Even the ending of Arkham Knight does this, with Batman slowly overcoming his worst fear through a weird world where the player gets to play as the Joker, as Batman slowly makes this Joker more and more scared, and playing into Joker’s fear of being forgotten, until Batman locks Joker away in a box and sends him to the Arkham Asylum graveyard. These are all symbolic, trippy ways to tell the player that the character they know has died, but most importantly, they are the visual equivalent of showing the player what happened. Which brings me to What Remains of Edith Finch, where death is not just necessary, it is key to the story. For those who don’t know, What Remains of Edith Finch is about a family whose family members are all doomed to die before they are 50. The family members you find all lived in one house near the shore, and whenever a family member was born, a new room was built, and upon their death it would be boarded up and walled off. These people all died in different, unique ways, but instead of just showing the quick and sometimes brutal methods these members met their end, Edith Finch chooses to instead show the player what their final thoughts were. For a baby who drowned to death while their parents argued bitterly about divorce, or a man who was a slow dropout who got grinded up at a fish factory, you aren’t greeted to the bitter end, rather an engaging story of what they were thinking. The baby who drowned does not see themselves dying, rather they are swimming in the ocean with their bath toys. They pass through the most beautiful of blue waters and see all their friends swimming around, before they drift down the glowing white light in the drain. Instead of seeing the ascent up to their death at the fish factory, you imagine you are a prince sailing a river, loved and worshipped by your men. Another subtle detail is that all these family members are given slightly different or vastly different art styles, whether it be in the style of a comic for a girl who died of a murder most foul, or the dark, murky shading of the girl who died of toothpaste poisoning. What Remains of Edith Finch raises an additional question of whether this family just has horrible luck, or there is a supernatural theme going on here. Death in What Remains of Edith Finch is not the end, but rather the extension of the story. The player must experience each of these deaths before they can fully understand the family’s history. The deaths in Edith Finch are almost sort of a merciful killing, in that these characters in a relatively restrictive situation are given some moments to escape the monotony of their lives, and the bounds of the house, if but for a moment. There is a simple symbolism to the house, in that each room roots off from the ground floor, where the grandparents once lived. This is the family tree of the Finch family, and you realize fairly soon why you are exploring this house as an outsider. The circumstances in which you arrive upon the house are not simply because the writers needed an easy way to start the story, rather you are the daughter of the last remaining Finch member who left the home claiming that there was nothing but bad memories there, and you are determined to find out more about these family members your mother avoids so desperately. There is a simple clear purpose to everything in Edith Finch, and it is why it is perhaps my favorite game. It is through these almost whimsical deaths that Edith Finch unravels perhaps one of the most beautiful and compelling narratives in video game history. Video version: |
AuthorHi, everyone, I'm Justin Sullivan, and I write fiction and other works of writing Archives
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