Game Narrative Spectrum

      Back in 2022, when Elden Ring and God of War: Ragnarök were revealed to have both been nominated for that year's Best Narrative in Games at the Game Awards, I had a number of friends and associates scratching their heads, wondering how Elden Ring got nominated. The common theme among them was that Elden Ring didn’t have much of a narrative to tell. So why was it being considered for best Narrative next to Ragnarök, which built the whole experience around its narrative? Now. I was, and still am, of the opinion that Elden Ring deserved to win Best Narrative in Games, and so I did my best to make my case, stating that Elden Ring gained its nomination because it was telling a story only games could tell.

      We are living in an era of gaming where the goal posts have changed from bigger and better to faster and smaller. Where we’ve reached the limits of computational ability and are now left with the question of: “Well, we can render up to a trillion individual hair follicles per character in real time; what do we do with that?” And for some, that answer is to focus on expanding the artistic merit of games by pushing what is possible in games now that the tech limitations are less of an issue. However, on a narrative level, the common understanding is that a good game narrative is equivalent to a good film or TV narrative, which, while not incorrect, is very reductive.

       Film, TV, and Games share some universal storytelling qualities, such as basic story structure. But they are different mediums with their own rules, strengths, and weaknesses, and in some cases, different applications of those basic rules of story structure. TV shows, for instance, have more time overall to tell a story than a Film if they average between a half hour to a full hour over an eight to ten-episode season. That’s four to ten hours of total story time compared to the hour and a half to three hours range for film. So with TV, you can tell longer stories more easily than with a film, where you have to be more conservative with your story beats because you only have a few total hours of screen time. Meaning something like Breaking Bad would feel truncated if you tried to cover everything in one season in one feature film. This is, of course, omitting the possibilities of sequels and multiple seasons; however, the point stands: different mediums, different rules – and games are no exception.

Fortunately, we are moving further away from this narrow idea of game narrative, and as we are, the rules for creating compelling game narrative become clearer. In my mind, there are three major forms of narrative-centered games being made right now, and they all sit on the same spectrum, and move from one side to the other depending on two things: the number of required events, and how much mechanical control the player has over events.   

To the far left of the spectrum, we have Movie Games: things like The Last of Us, God of War: Ragnarök, and Sony/Marvel’s Spider-Man (PS4). Games that have strong conventional stories and a solid core gameplay loop, but a rot iron fence between the two of them. Gameplay in these kinds of games serves as a replacement for action set pieces in films, providing the player with something to do between scripted story segments, where they won’t have much (if any) input into the events of the story. And to complete the game, players must go through a linear sequence of events that they cannot skip or alter in meaningful ways. Jole will always kill the Fireflies to save Ellie at the end of The Last of Us; Kratos will always take up the Blades of Chaos to save Atreus; and Peter can’t stop Otto from becoming Doc Ock. These are all canon events that cannot be altered by the player and will play out for everyone who turns on these games. Something that, in theory, is fine. It is the bedrock from which game storytelling is based and has yielded tentpole works like Chrono Trigger, Spec-Ops: The Line, Bioshock, and the games listed above. The difference, however, between Chrono Trigger, Spec-Ops, Bioshock, and the games that I started with is that they forgo the usual trappings of the movie game to shift more into the middle of the spectrum, towards video games’ true potential as a storytelling device.  

“A man chooses; a slave obeys” isn’t just a memorable line, but a statement about free will and the illusion granted by games like Bioshock. These games are, by design, a structured series of curated experiences for the player. Even BioShock’s more variable father, System Shock, was confined by the design of the project. Therefore, certain options were simply impossible, so the developers could author the experience they wanted the player to have. Yet Ken Levine recognized this, much in the same way Toby Fox would in Undertale, and both men would also realize that they can still say a boatload about free will without giving players the option to do everything. All they needed to do was ensure that the game's design induced the right level of player perception to hide the relative simplicity of the choices they were having players make. However, that consideration, that focus on player agency – whether they actually have it or not – is what moves a game into this middle section of the spectrum.     

Game Critic Yahtzee Croshaw once said in an editorial that the best game narratives are when the story being told is a co-authorship between author and player. And it’s here in the middle of the spectrum where you start to get games that try to foster that co-authorship. This can be done in a multitude of ways, depending on the scope and scale of the project. But the commonality between all of them is that they get the player invested in the events of the story by rewarding their actions in gameplay.  

Here we have Variable Stories: things like Baldur’s Gate 3, The Mass Effect Trilogy, and Papers Please. Games that utilize their mechanics to tell stories or track player actions throughout, allowing the story to respond more effectively to their individual choices. And depending on the project's scope, a game at this position might have only a few mandatory sections for the player to complete, allowing players to set their own pace and goals: carving their own path between the tent poles the writers set – coauthoring the story alongside the developers. The twist for Bioshock, for instance, relies on the fact that the player's agency within the story is relegated to only the Little Sister outcomes. While a similar twist could have worked in a Film or TV show, the reason it is remembered is that it was a commentary on stories in games using gameplay.

In Baldur’s Gate 3, there are a number of systems chugging along in the background, keeping track of certain variables while the player roams around the Sword Coast; what quests have been completed? Who’s alive and who’s dead? What companions have the highest/lowest approval? Etc. Making each playthrough somewhat modular, depending on what parts you engaged with that time around. As Baldur’s Gate 3 only has four mandatory sequences you have to complete, leaving the rest up to the player.

In Act Two, you need to defeat Ketheric Throm to move onto Act Three, and in Act Three, you need to defeat Orin and Gortash before you can access the final encounter and finish the game. Everything else between those tentpoles is optional and up to the player to decide whether or not they will engage with it and in what way. You could, for example, side with the goblins in Act One, wipe out the Druids, skip both the Underdark and Cresh to go right into Act Two, and then have a change of heart, break Minthara out of jail, and help the Harpers storm Moonrise before going onto kill the rest of the Dead Three and destroy the Absolute; with the only drawback being that you might be under leveled for the start of Act Three and possibly have fewer allies for the final encounter.

Impressive in itself; however, the best example of this level of co-authorship is found in certain companion variables. Two Origin characters have these variables to my knowledge when recruited as party members: Gale and Shadowheart. In both cases, these variables, in tandem with their approval of the player, are used to replicate their character arcs when they are the player character. Shadowheart, for example, has a variable called Nightsong Points, which increases when the player picks dialogue options that get Shadowheart to question her devotion to Shar or reveal her past life as a follower of Selûne, Shar’s sister and rival. These Points are representative of her doubt in her faith and her devotion to Shar, meaning that even if your standing with her is decent, if you haven’t introduced enough doubt in her to question her mission, she will not relent in the Gauntlet of Shar, where this variable comes to a head.

In that scene, the player is given several options to resolve the conflict within Shadowheart: they can try to pass a DC 25 Persuasion check to pull her away from the dark path Shar wants for her; they can encourage Shadowheart to commit and do as Shar asks; they can kill Shadowheart; or they can step back and trust that Shadowheart will make the right choice. That last option takes the Nightsong Points into consideration: with the amount Shadowheart has and her relationship with the player determining whether she decides to rebuke or embrace Shar. But, like the options that raise Nightsong Points before this scene, the dialogue line is unlabeled. Meaning it is up to the player to interpret what they have been given and decide if they trust Shadowheart enough to make the right decision. And what’s even more important is that the game follows through with what the player decides.

From this moment, Shadowheart is put onto two paths forward: Dark Justiciar or Chosen of Selûne – depending on the outcome in the Gauntlet of Shar. Quests in Act 3 shift around to accommodate this choice and Shadowheart’s goals following her decision in Act 2; her relationship with you and other party members changes, growing warmer or colder depending on her choice; and several scenes tied to her quest are changed to fit that previous decision. In short, a whole new story is written to accommodate the outcome of Act 2, one that the player had a part in directly authoring.

Co-authorship is something that only games can provide as a storytelling tool. A tool that can get unwieldy if used too much, but a tool that no one else can use. And when used properly, we get a more modular and personal experience that players will attune to as their own because it is their own story. That’s what makes games such a powerful storytelling device. Taking it one step further, we start getting into games that break down traditional story structure, and we start to see Non-Linear Stories.

This is where Elden Ring falls on the spectrum, along with games like Breath of the Wild and Shadow of Mordor. Games that realize that, due to their design, a traditional linear story would be impractical, and/or as a consequence of a well-integrated and core system, players begin creating their own stories within the game in their own heads based on the reactions from the system itself. This was the case with Shadow of Mordor and, to a lesser extent, Shadow of War. As in Shadow of Mordor, one of the key mechanics was toppling the Orc power structure of Mordor by planning brainwashed sleeper agents into the orc ranks. By doing so, you learn about the weakness of orc leaders, the composition of their platoons, how far up the food chain they are, and who will take their place if killed.

Naturally, this power structure will cycle through events as you play the game: with orcs besting rivals and getting promoted or moving up the ladder whenever one of them manages to kill the player, creating a living microcosm of a society that you can engage with and interfere with. With just enough interaction to create your own stories alongside the main one, based on how your bid for power goes. Connecting back into the main story by making the mandatory encounters easier based on the number of brainwashed orcs you have at your command.   

These kinds of games, while bookended with mandatory segments at the beginning and end of the experience, are held up by their middle; the gameplay: something left completely in the players' hands to do whatever they think is best. In Breath of the Wild, for instance, once you get the hand glider after completing the tutorial, you can run straight to fight Ganon in Hyrule Castle. You will most likely get one shot, but it is possible because Breath of the Wild’s story and core mechanics revolve around discovery. Link grows stronger by exploring Hyrule, finding secrets, and clearing the Four Divine Beasts. But he also discovers more about the game's backstory by exploring the world and finding places of importance that spark his memory and remind him of Zelda, giving us more information about Zelda and Link’s relationship with this incarnation of the Princess of Hyrule. The world and the story within it are all ready to be seen at the word go, and it’s the player who decides how they will get to it and what order they will see it all in, creating their own story along the way.

I, for instance, came across the remains of the Lost Woods on my adventures, and knowing it was of importance to the mythology of the series, I investigated and discovered where the Master Sword was. I unfortunately didn’t have enough hearts at the time to pull it out. But it did give me a new goal and story beat: Link had rediscovered his birthright and the means by which to destroy evil, but he isn’t strong enough to wield it again – Link still had to grow. I needed to discover more of Hyrule before either of us was worthy of the Master Sword.

This, in a traditional story, would be an inciting incident set up early on to catapult the protagonist along their journey for the rest of the story. But since players have been encouraged to explore and discover everything, this moment was hidden away as a reward for exploration. Driving both gameplay and narrative as the incentive, reward, and function for both was intertwined.

This is why I believe Elden Ring should have won Best Game Narrative. Because in 2022, the Nominees for that category were: God of War Ragnarök, A Plague Tale: Requiem, Horizon Forbidden West, Immortality, and Elden Ring. Elden Ring was the only non-movie game nominated that year. Elden Ring was the only game that year to tell a player-driven, non-linear story. That’s why it deserved to win, because it was the only one trying to push the unique narrative strengths of games forward. Yes, you can argue that Ragnarök told a more traditionally compelling story. But Elden Ring told a story that only a game could tell.

It told the story of the Righteous Tarnished, shunned by Grace, urged to return to the Lands Between, from the paradise they were denied for a chance of becoming Elden Lord. It told of the Righteous Tarnished’s journey across the Lands Between, meeting the legends of old who failed to claim the Elden Ring, who then fell to the Righteous Tarnished. It introduced themes of loyalty, betrayal, and determination through the actions of the Tarnished and the companions they met along the way. They could learn of the fall of House Carrian and the Age of Stars from Ranni the Witch; discover the truth of destoned death from Fia, Deathbed Companion; see the cynical horrors of the Loathsome Dung Eater; be tempted by Shabriri, apostle of the Frenzied Flame; and learn of Kindly Michala’s ruined paradise for the misbegotten at the hands of the Sanguine Lord, Mog.

But regardless of the journey they choose to undertake, they alone – once having earned the right to call themselves Elden Lord by felling Radagon of the Golden Order – could decide the fate of the Lands Between: to sustain the fading Golden Order or surmount it with a new, and possibly ruinous alternative. While the game does get more linear in the back half, it is always a story told by the player as they carve their own path to glory in a world of peril and mystery. A story only games could tell.