Ludonarrative dissonance—the conflict
created when mechanics and narrative communicate different messages—is
a design concept that has been creeping closer and closer to the mainstream in
the past year. Bioshock Infinite and The Last of Us both attempted to
ameliorate their dissonance with varying degrees of success. And Spec Ops: The Line took advantage of its
own ludonarrative dissonance, using it to emphasize the game’s themes about
American military adventurism and Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. For obvious
reasons, violence has been a major factors in the dissonance in most of these
games, primarily because violence provides an easy mechanic and tends to result
in games that sell. But one game that does not often get mentioned in the discussion
of dissonance in games is Supergiant
Games’ 2011, action-RPG Bastion.
Set in a world that mixes elements
of fantasy, steam-punk, and the old west, the story of Bastion is a deceptively simple one. The player assumes the role of an
unnamed silent protagonist called, “the Kid,” who wakes up one day to discover
that an apocalyptic event called “the Calamity,” destroyed his home city of
Caelondia and most of the world. The Kid seeks to restore a place called “the
Bastion,” which can supposedly fix the world. Along the way he meets an elderly
Caelondian named Rucks, who provides the game’s running narration, in addition
to two other survivors Zulf and Zia—ethnic Ura, the original inhabitants of the
continent Caelondia colonized. Rucks provides one of the most troubling figure in the
game. He is a thoroughly unreliable narrator and is the physical
manifestation of narrative in the game’s ludonarrative equation.
Rucks is an unflinching imperialist
in terms both his interaction with the world and his role as narrator. While
The Kid may be the player’s avatar, the areas the Kid inhabits are contextualized
by Rucks and through the lens of his nostalgia. Meanwhile, the Kid’s thoughts
are locked away from the player through a silence which Rucks’ narration
enforces. The Kid is still capable of interacting with other characters, but it
always falls to Rucks to relay snippets of the conversation. In essence, Rucks’
dominion over the narration emphasizes the subaltern status which Caelondian
society imposed upon the Kid, Zulf, and Zia. No one can speak. During the final
level it is established that the narration throughout the game has been Rucks
retelling the Kid’s story to Zia in order to pass the time while they wait for
the kid’s return from the final mission. This revelation presents a
deterministic tyranny of the storyteller but one which is not wholly in
conflict with the concept of player agency, since some of the more player
driven story elements. For example, like if the player decides to break some environment objects early in the game for no
reason, Rucks will note: “the Kid rages for a while.” Rucks story elements tend to
fall into place shortly after the actions that prompt them. The lag indicates that Rucks' narration is not the creator of what is on screen but a reflection of it. Yet at certain critical moments, such as the
moment when the Kid finds the Journal which kick-starts the game’s central conflict,
the Kid’s actions are a fixed point which cannot be changed by Rucks or the player.
The interpretation that Rucks
provides runs parallel to the ludic experience provided by the environments and
the core gameplay. The overlay of narration on top of the ludic information establishes
a space in which the two are able to compliment and inform one another while also being distinct from one another. The
ludic information provides authority to the narration while also providing a
space where it can be questioned. Although Rucks’ first line of narration notes that a
“proper story is supposed to start at the beginning” and that it “ain’t so
simple with this one,” the fluidity between fixed points of the story and
emergent (ludic) elements call the deterministic authority of the storyteller
into question. The tension between these ludic and
narrative forces can be seen the first time the Kid encounters an enemy.
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First encounter with a (lonesome ghost of a) Gasfella |
As the
Kid enters a small clearing, Rucks asks “That a survivor? No ma’am, it’s a Gasfella,
forced up from underground.” In theory, the original question of “is that a
survivor” must be answered with an unequivocal yes because the Gasfella is clearly alive. Though Rucks is at times an unreliable narrator, he is frank
about details regarding the world. He repeatedly personifies Gasfellas, and
even goes so far as to outright say that they are sapient: “[they] ain’t much
that different from normal folks. All they want is a warm place to stay and a
decent meal.” And yet by implying that the Gasfella at the start is not a
survivor, he demonstrates his bias against the Windbags and makes it clear that
his only interest rests in saving human survivors. Ludically, Rucks’ bias
against the Windbags proves correct. With a few exceptions, Gasfellas and other
creatures inhabiting the floating ruins of Caelondia are universally hostile
towards the Kid. That Rucks’ racism is supported by the ludic language of the
game establishes him as a character that the kid and the player ought to trust,
while also generating tension.
As the player finds it easy to
accept Rucks’ rationales, so too does the Kid, even though he has very little reason
to want Caelondia restored. During the Kid’s tobacco and exhaustion fueled
dream of “Who Knows Where,” it is revealed that the Kid’s life in Caelondia was
never a good one. He was ostracized by peers, dropped out of school, and volunteered
for two tours of duty on Caelondia’s “Rippling Wall,” an act Rucks implies was
tantamount to suicide. At the end of the dream, Rucks admits to taking
advantage of the Kid’s lack of direction. Rucks is the only character who knows
about the true purpose of the Bastion, so he sends the Kid out telling him he’s
saving the world. And yet Rucks’ rationales provide an easy security blanket
for the Kid and player to cling to even when it conflicts with reality. For
example Rucks establishes early on that every piece of floating ground the Kid journeys
to has a “Core” keeping it afloat. The Cores are necessary to power the
Bastion, but removing the core will cause the area to fall into oblivion. Later
Rucks comments that Gasfellas get “territorial” around Cores, which directly
conflicts with their earlier characterization as being sentient. Rucks’
characterization of them as “territorial,” creates an easier to accept
justification for smashing through them to get to the core than “they will
fight you every step because they know they will fall into the abyss.”
Moreover, the Kid almost always returns to the Bastion without seeing much of
the damage from the core’s removal, but the knowledge of its occurrence
remains, creating further dissonance.
The tension between Rucks’ narration
and reality comes to a head during the Kid’s dream in “Jawson Bog.” Unlike the
dreams of “Who Knows Where,” which fit snuggly into the framing device and act
as ludic holding patterns which allow Rucks tells Zia and the player about the
back-stories of the three silent character characters, the bog dream is
completely disconnected from the framing device. Rucks admits after the dream
finishes that the Kid never told him what happened in the bog and the
abandonment of conventional tropes of oral storytelling are abandoned in favor
of a surreal breakdown imply that the Bog dream’s narration is a part of the
Kid’s perception. Rucks’ once supportive voice becomes hostile towards the Kid.
Lines and events from earlier in the game get retread and altered in ways that emphasize
the Kid’s violence and his complicity in the deaths of many non-human
survivors.
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The Bastion: Jawson Bog Edition |
When the Kid enters the Bastion for the first time and meets Rucks,
the old man narrates “Did anyone else survive? Sure enough, he finds another.
He finds me.” In the bog, the Kid enters a Bastion overrun with wilderness
fauna and the line changes to “Sure enough, he finds…Peckers. Lunkheads.
Wallflowers. Pincushions. Vineapples. Swampweeds. Anklegators,”
implying similarity between the creatures the Kid has killed and the survivors
at the Bastion. The presence of the narration in an entirely subjective space implies
that the Kid internalizes Rucks’ goals and rationales while the hostility of
dream Rucks indicates his uncertainty and guilt over what those rationales have
led him to. The litany of dead creatures acknowledges the ludonarrative
dissonance inherent in the Kid’s mission to saving the world by destroying bits
of it, and uses it as a metaphor for guilt and self-loathing. That the dream
ends with the Kid re-experiencing the moment when he found his first weapon—the
hammer which Rucks describes as his “life-long friend”—resulting in a
confrontation with a shadow version of himself, further emphasizes his internal
conflict over and with his own violence.
The final level is the unraveling
of Rucks’ narration, the revelation that Rucks no longer knows what is going to
happen frees the Kid from the deterministic bonds of the “story” but not the
ludic bonds. Binary choice gets a bum rap from game designers but used
sparingly, any choice of that kind is still interaction. The final choice is a
value judgment by the player as to whether it is worth attempting to undo
everything and risking it all happening again, or setting sail into an unknown future.
In terms of game design, this question asks if we want to keep retreading the
dissonant laden landscapes of modern design or attempt to find another way
forward.
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