Things I Failed to Do: Save the World (Braid and Bastion)

I think I'm going to have to spoiler Braid in this post to talk about the things I want to talk about, although I feel justified in doing so as it is a few years old now. That said, if you haven't played it, do go and do so and then come back to read this, it'll still be here - and if you need any encouragement there are a lot of people out there singing it's every praise. Bastion, on the other hand, I won't spoil at all.

Now, you may wonder why I am talking about these two games in the same post. One, Braid, is a 2D platform puzzle game while the other, Bastion, is an isometric action RPG. What they both have in common is that they depart from the current standard method of computer game storytelling, although in very different ways.

Braid is one of those games which could never live up to its hype. I still think it's very, very good, and I had a lot of fun playing it, but it is going to be forever ruined by the legion of literary-theory fanboys who have latched on to the fact that it 'does gaming narrative differently' and as such are in danger of presenting it as the template and epitome of doing gaming narrative differently. This is despite the fact that it doesn't actually do gaming narrative that well - or indeed that differently - and that the final resolution is actually, rather than the daring twist it thinks it is, in my view a crushingly disappointing undermining of the story's previous work with some fairly problematic inferences to boot.

First, however: what it does well. The puzzles in Braid are excellent, if you like that kind of game you will like the puzzles (even the unnecessarily obscure bonus puzzles feel appropriate as Easter eggs for the truly hardcore). They also are introduced in a way that nicely delineates the game's emerging themes of regret and second chances - which is in itself a rare feat. This I think is the game's major triumph: the gameplay and mechanics are an integral part of both the narrative and thematic payload it delivers; it isn't just that the story is revealed as you play through the game, it is that they are revealed by the way that you play the game.

 
This isn't unique, by the way, although it is certainly rare for it to be done so integrally and purposefully in mainstream computer gaming. If you've only ever played generic action games of one kind or another you'd be forgiven for thinking that mechanics are entirely separate to narrative or theme. However, even something as seemingly simple as the Rainbow Islands model of a constant upwards strive coupled with a sinister obliteration of those who dawdle or make a mistake is an example of a mechanic that imparts theme (I'll let you think about what that theme might be yourself). And if you step away from the computer and into the wider realm of gaming, and the theory of gaming, in general then you start to realise that it's a lot more common after all.

I am in no way an expert in this field, nor have I read as extensively as I'd like (a proper examination of the place of gameplay in representing more than just itself is more than I could begin to look at) but I will point you towards the Hogshead series of New Style RPGs from the late 90s as a good practical introduction to some of the issues, as well as the European style of board gaming typified by games like Pandemic and Agricola.

 
In addition to the gameplay, the art and music in Braid are not only lovely but seem to work to add their own layers of meaning to the whole. I say seem because, at least in the case of the artwork what it adds to is what the game itself seems to be about, not what it ultimately claims that it actually is about.

Unfortunately, it's all let down, typically for a computer game, by the writing. The writing really is terrible: a whole lot of amorphous waffle about a doomed relationship, in the self-important style of the frustrated novelist.

 
Actually, it isn't that bad. Its functional, but it gets let down by the pretensions of the final act where it is asked to carry more wight than it can bear. So, here's the spoiler: it turns out that Braid isn't about what you think it's about, and what I thought made it a really clever game. It seems to be, with the jumping on mushroom-like monsters and the chase for a princess who is always in the next castle, a comment on gaming itself. This works, and it works well with the narrative it gives you, and the twist where you realise that it is not the kidnapper who was the bad guy, but you. It is a nice commentary on the priapism of most game heroes, and the apparent helplessness of these objectified women who are held up as goals or prizes.

 
If it had ended there it would be great. Truly. But it doesn't. It continues, into this weird after-game where you get more chunks of narrative which you have to piece together. To be honest, rather then thinking this was an interesting puzzle I was just bored and confused. It wasn't until I checked some FAQs that I discovered what was supposed to be going on here - that the game was revealing its true narrative, and that the whole thing had in fact been an extended metaphor for the Manhattan Project. Seriously.

 
Now, there's nothing wrong with making a game about the creation of the atom bomb, and regretting one's part in that endeavour. Where the problem lies is that all of the metaphorical work of the game - apart from some of the gameplay - is misdirected. Suddenly, all the weight of meaning that was borne by everything else is suddenly foisted onto the writing, which as I said isn't really strong enough to carry it - nor should it have to.

Even worse, far from being the subversive challenge to classic gameplay narrative you originally think it is, its actually a dispiritingly orthodox take on certain misogynistic tropes. You see, the princess - the woman in the doomed relationship - who you thought was eventually revealed to be her own person isn't actually herself at all, she's just a symbol. A placeholder. For the most destructive man-made device ever created. If you need me to say anything more about why this is depressing then maybe a primer in double standard tropes might help you.

Now, Bastion isn't exactly a feminist masterpiece itself, although at least the female characters in it are representing themselves and have a sense of agency. It's also not particularly groundbreaking in terms of the story it tells or the mechanics of play. But it is a good, fun game with a good, compelling story and the thing it really does differently is the way that it tells that story as you play the game. The entire story is narrated, and it is done so as you play the game - no interminable cutscenes or reams of text to break things up. So, the content is traditional, but the manner of telling it is made fresh and innovative - not by being clever and trying to ape literary techniques, as Braid does, but by streamlining the delivery so that it is concurrent with the game.

 
I truly think that if you are interested in how to tell good stories in computer games, Bastion is the place to look, rather than Braid. I don't think every game should be made that way, and Braid still has more innovative gameplay to it as well as the beginnings of some ideas about the use of metaphor on a structural level, but narrative doesn't need to be clever in order to be worthwhile, artistically valid or in the final reckoning good. If games need narrative, and I'm not sure that they do except as just one of a number of possible modes of expression, then that narrative needs to be native to the medium, and not borrowed from other forms considered more credible by virtue of their being previously established.

Anyway, as a good Barthesian I'm just going to ignore the intended meaning of Braid, and assign my own meaning to it and so pretend that it really is *just* about gaming.