A Psychological Action Thriller

More than five years in the making, Alan Wake, a thriller/horror video game, was released May 2010 and immediately praised and derided for its unique experiment in game storytelling and interactive experience In contrast to popular sandbox games like Red Dead Redemption, Alan Wake does not present illusions of open freedom as players virtually embody the title character, a popular crime fiction author with writer’s block searching for his missing wife in the charming-turned-frightening Bright Falls, WA. Hindrances include Wake’s week-long memory gap immediately following his wife’s abduction and dark forces out to destroy him. Wake quickly realize the events within the town and the game are predetermined, sprung forth from pages of Wake’s Departure, a novel that had only existed in his dreams and imagination. The game is not only deeply invested in telling a story, but in exploring how stories are told across media as well as notions of artistic influence, authorship, and reality versus imagination.

Accordingly, the game is greatly structured, which has received its fair share of mixed reception from the highly praiseworthy as revolutionary storytelling to its intense dismissal as boring and predictable. The latter opinions often point to the low target sales as proof the game is a failure. Many players and game studies theorists have historically seen narrative and gaming at odds with one another,1 though even the most stringent ludologists and narrantologists recognize the entanglement of the two. While it is not without flaws, Alan Wake provides a unique opportunity to engage with assumptions about what games should do versus what they can potentially provide us; to be succinct, what do we, as players, want out of a gaming experience? From the popular complaints across the web, it isn’t a game for every gamer, especially those favoring shooters, multiplayer online modes, or game play that provides a seamless illusion of freedom. Instead, what Alan Wake does quite successfully is expose the framework of gaming and horror storytelling, both formally and narratively, through its purposeful, self-reflexive engagement with conventions of other media forms and genres.

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Both within the narrative and game play, Alan Wake actively blurs the boundaries of video gaming and other media by connecting the medium to other storytelling platforms. In doing so, players not only play a game, but experience a meta convergence of forms that acknowledge and reflect storytelling influences on three levels: on the author Alan Wake, on the creators of Alan Wake the game, and those/from gaming and within the thriller/horror genre. The game is quite transparent about its desire to forge these ties between gaming and television, cinema, radio, and the novel. Rather than the typical gaming structure and a definite conclusion, the game is broken up into six episodes with a cliffhanger ending, offering new downloadable installments available through Xbox Live. Ending sequences and “Previously on Alan Wake” cut scenes mimick a television format. Moreover, the marketing leading up to the game’s release included live action episodes of Bright Falls, a prequel to the events of Alan Wake. Within the game narrative, players can watch Night Springs, a Twilight Zone-esque series whose three minute episodes highlight the game’s concerns with dreaming and reality. But Night Springs is not merely a pop nod to Twilight Zone as players find out Wake wrote an episode as his first professional writing gig and has writing plans for future episodes, thus integrating it’s appearance in the world of Bright Falls. Players may also stumble across the Night Springs board game, an medium acknowledged as a predecessor to video gaming itself. The most reflective media reference highlights the game within a game: Night Springs, Xbox 360 video game, alongside the console itself.

Many critics, including Seth Schiesel of The New York Times, shake their heads at Alan Wake for being clichéd, badly ripping off Stephen King, and trying to be an “eerie TV show.”2. Respect to subjectivity and opinion aside, perhaps Alan Wake is not attempting to hide these connections and subsequently failing to cleverly cover their tracks. In fact, the game seems to be addressing the system of genre influences and expectations at work both within and outside itself. Cinematically, the game utilizes the popular suspense/horror shot of the bad guys creeping up on the ignorant victim by frequently featuring a third person POV shot of the Taken emerging from hidden corners. But within the game, players may experience a dual affect response of watching as a spectator while a Taken sneaks up on Wake and the subjective position of being personally (though virtually) attacked and needing escape as Wake, the character being played. The game’s ludic dodge move heightens this affect by creating tension through slow-motion display of game movement. As well, the need to check behind is both a typical response of horror genre characters as well as a necessity while playing any shooter games where AI enemies can lurk behind corners and behind a gamer’s POV. In another fashion, the radio broadcasts of Bright Falls personality Pat Maine provides back story and context of Bright Falls for players while featuring surprisingly fitting music. After a failed run-in at the radio station, Maine apologies on-air to Wake, wishes him luck, and plays “Black Night” by Charles Brown, a song lamenting a sweetheart being gone and troubles that never end while Wake/the player evades the police and the Taken on the search for Alice, his abducted wife. The soundtrack itself provides fitting mood and thematic music like the Episode One ending track, Roy Orbison’s “In Dreams”, while conjuring up similiar musical soundtracks in fellow genre media like Twin Peaks and The X-Files.

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Moreover, the game makes popular genre references to ease players into the story while thematically showcasing the blurred lines between reality and fiction, made even more layered as presented through a video game. Alan Wake relies on player familiarity with the horror/thriller genre, Stephen King, and Lovecraftian-inspired work, particularly John Carpenter’s In the Mouth of Madness whose author Sutten Cane finds himself in similar circumstances to Wake. While there is pleasure in recognizing these narratives and motifs, players also learn these are Wake’s own artistic influences, weaved into his manuscript which we play through in the game. Our self-awareness of these motifs are also recognized by non-playable characters and Wake’s own self-reflexive voiceover commentary. FBI agent Nightingale dismisses Wake as H.P Lovecraft, Raymond Chandler, or Bret Easton Ellis throughout their encounters. Wake’s agent Barry Wheeler describes much of Bright Falls’ chilling experiences in past horror film plots and devices. As for Wake, he references King as an early influence in voice-overs, crediting him for teaching “No one is safe in a good horror story, not even the protagonist,” a fitting description for the game itself. And quite frequently, Wake comments on the way things are suppose to be and how the story should go, self-reflexively considering the modes and conventions of horror/thriller storytelling as a whole.

Perhaps most significant is the game’s focus on authorship and control both in its attention to Wake’s writing and the greater aspect of game design and freedom. Players find the manuscript pages of Wake’s completed Departure scattered throughout the game landscape. They provide important clues and sometimes hilariously uncomfortable foreshadowing. For example, following the objective “Make it through the woods,” players can come across the page “Wake Hears a Chainsaw” which reads: “I was finally out of these woods and things were looking up. That’s when I heard the chainsaw”—an event that has not yet happened to Wake/the player, a twist on dramatic irony. The game narrative is centrally focused on the power of Wake as an author since his manuscript controls the events and people of the town. At its core however, the game exposes the control of the game author and designer in limiting the actions and freedom of players. We have very little control over game direction just as Wake has limited control over his own story, having no memory writing it. Both are made transparent while playing. For example, when attacked by Taken with his wife’s kidnapper, Wake demands for a gun and is told “That’s not how this goes, get with the program Wake!” Frustratingly, both Wake and the player as Wake are forced to protect themselves only with flares and a flashlight. Likewise, the kidnapper laughs at Wake for not recognizing the limitation of his abilities as demanded by the story. This constriction mirrors the frequent predicaments of horror protagonist who have to deal with unexpected and outside actions and events rather than he or she thrusting the action. The limitation is also reflective of player frustration for many video game boundaries. With its guided game play, Alan Wake reminds players that video game direction is ultimately determined by someone and something else already in play and outside their control. We are merely players indeed.

My deeper fascination with Alan Wake revolves around the unique affective experience of watching Wake and being Wake. Horror is arguably the most affective genre of storytelling and made all the more (potentially) potent through an interactive game. At times, my reactions to in-game events mirrored Wake’s own “What the hell?” while other moments provided dramatic irony. Often, my desire for safe escape was strangely paired with my hopes for Alan Wake’s escape from the Taken. This dual positionality of watching and being is an often overlooked element to video gaming, but Alan Wake purposefully highlights the position. This draws attention to players and the avatars they play as well as our own relationship with games and more broadly, the stories we engage. This self-awareness is most chilling when we are Wake and we watch Wake view himself on television while the TV’s Alan Wake watches us as the above screen captures eerily reveal. In a flashback, Wake watches himself on TV during an interview for his previous book release The Sudden Stop. Gamers, playing and watching Alan Wake on their TV sets, can watch/play Wake watching himself on his own TV–possibly the most surreal, self-reflexive, voyeuristic moment in the entire game. The live action captures of TV Alan Wake and the Night Springs episodes clearly contrast the computer animated surroundings of Bright Falls, allowing an interesting pairing of the “real” and the simulated deserving deeper attention. Ultimately, the game may not be fiscally successful, but does present a truly distinctive exploration of storytelling and the horror/thriller genre influenced by, but separate from other media. Alan Wake does not need to be the future of gaming to provide another important perspective on what games can do and the larger themes the medium can interrogate in an affectively different way.

Image Credits:
1. Alan Wake Title
2-7. Author Provided Screen Captures.

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1. Juul, Jesper. “A Clash between Game and Narrative.” November 1998. http://www.jesperjuul.net/text/clash_between_game_and_narrative.html
2. Schiesel, Seth. “A Game That Thinks It’s an Eerie TV Drama.” May 19, 2010. http://www.nytimes.com/2010/05/20/arts/television/20wake.html?scp=1&sq=alan%20wake&st=Search

The Beatles: Rock Band, the much anticipated and/or overhyped (depending on your stance) rhythm game by Harmonix was released September 9th, coinciding with the successful release of the band’s digitally remastered music catalogue. However, critical weigh-ins were starting before the game even came out. Since its development was first announced, there were numerous reactions about the game from thoughts of The Beatles “selling out” via video game media, issues of capital fetishizing of the music, to the ongoing condemnation that kids will not play instruments if they play Rock Band and Guitar Hero. Two voices sparked particularly polarizing discussions online: New York Times reviewer Seth Schiesel for his overtly positive game review and the critical blog response by video game scholar Ian Bogost—both receiving mixed commentary from responding posters and bloggers.

Schiesel lauded the video game for its ability to engage the baby boomer generation through the music of The Beatles and create an “intergenerational cultural resonance” that would allow parents and children to play together.1 This is notable because the industry is making attempts to break out of its connoted definition of a male, teen-centric sphere. He went on to equate the game’s cultural importance and impact, perhaps now infamously, to The Beatles playing on The Ed Sullivan Show in 1964. Furthermore, he declared the game “to be the most important video game yet made” while deriding most games as message-less, meaningless, and without cultural impact and resonance, much to the chagrin of the video game community. In response, Bogost counters that the game is simply baby boomer reminiscence and merely a fancy derivative of the Rock Band franchise. Furthermore, Bogost names The Beatles: Rock Band as “the apotheosis of boomer nostalgia,” packaged for and bought by those who want to reminisce about the greatness of the 1960’s—“the Greatest Generation for that generation children.”2 While he raises issue with The Beatles: Rock Band as marketing nostalgia, he reduces the game to essentially empty 60’s wistfulness while clearly demarcating a line between gamers and baby boomers as mutually exclusive (and arguably Beatles fans and gamers): “Must we appreciate The Beatles? Must we reminisce with the newly aged about their privileged lives as naïve youthful radicals, and then later as greedy yuppie centrists, and then finally as truculent conservative majority? Must we give them their final thrill in the medium we popularized, and which they spent decades not only failing to understand, but also deriding as useless and insolent?”

I (and others) find themselves caught between the polarization of Schiesel and Bogost’s opinions. While I applaud potential intergenerational connection through the game, that alone should not be the basis for Schiesel’s grand hyperbole of the game as the ultimate in video gaming history. Moreover, the assumption that the game and The Beatles are accessible to everyone is problematic, though the game’s promotion has been relying this very idea. And while I can’t deny that 60’s iconography and backdrop is heavy at work within the game, it is not the only cultural memory at work for players or even the creators. The Beatles music (and arguably, music in general) has the capacity to engage both with the band’s temporal cultural moment as well as listeners’ personal memories of engagement, which aren’t always at the prodding of baby boomer parents or desires to wax-poetic about a cool time we wish we’d existed. Rather their opinions help draw attention to how the discourse around the band cannot be separated from the critical discussion of the game itself. Arguably, it overshadows it.

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I can’t help but attribute this situation to the inescapable mythology of The Beatles, a myth reified by the game and its advertising (seen above). The Beatles: Rock Band is truly nostalgic, but for The Beatles themselves more than anything else. This may seem as if I am separating the band from their historical context. But The Beatles have come to be more than just a signifier for the 1960’s; their myth is that of the ultimate band and cultural force—creative geniuses, timeless art, international importance, and universal appeal. This is a myth that took shape in the 1960’s, but has been carried on, renegotiated, and reinstated by subsequent generations. This is not an attempt to erase the historical context, but point out how the group has already been mythologized outside of the 1960’s time-frame, acknowledged by the band members themselves. In a 1980 interview with Playboy, John Lennon reflects, “I don’t mean to belittle The Beatles when I say they weren’t this or they weren’t that. I’m just trying not to overblow their importance as separate from society.” And most recently, Paul McCartney observes of The Beatles: Rock Band game, “I think it reflects where the Beatles are at. We are halfway between reality and mythology.”3. Of course, the myth both hurt and helped The Beatles as a group and in their solo work. Moreover, they are one of the most successful brands in pop culture history as evidenced by their overwhelming Beatlemania fan memorabilia, successful re-releases of their recordings like The Beatles Anthology set and 1, the Cirque de Soleil Show Love, to The Beatles: Rock Band game. This sort of commodification is nothing new for the group who helped merchandise the way music fans connect to a band for better or worse. The Beatles: Rock Band is a product of the mythic associations we have with the band. As well, it will undoubtedly become another way the band’s mythos is delivered and over-determined for a new generation.

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As for the game, it does a truly magnificent job at reiterating the mythic ideology of The Beatles as the perfect band, one that you get to play “with”, not play “as.” Never before heard studio chat is integrated into load screens to give players the feeling they listening into private conversations. Additionally, many critics note how the game rewards players with bonus content about the band in the form of photos, fact blurbs, and archival videos of behind the scenes interactions. Thus, allowing virtual music history and appreciation lessons to take place. Importantly, the end credits name The Beatles for “The Music and Inspiration” as the game does take liberates in maintaining the myth of the band and their music. There is no appearance or acknowledgment The Beatles’ history prior to 1963, so no mention of Stu Sutcliffe, Pete Best, or the band’s humble beginnings. There’s no virtual Eric Clapton on solo in the “While My Guitar Gently Weeps” studio/dreamscape background4 and definitely not any drug use (though some of the more psychedelic dreamscapes may be nods). Those studio dreamscapes are suppose to capture what it was like to record and what it was like to feel the music5. However, they function more as completely idealized musical realities without band disagreements or absences during recordings for particular songs. Really, the game delivers the nostalgic myth of the band: a whitewashed, idyllic history and image of The Beatles, one that perfectly reinstates and honors its already polished cultural image. However, it’s to be expected considering the very active, careful participation by typically exclusive Apple Corps, the surviving Beatles, the deceased Beatles’ wives as well as initial start up prompted by Dhani Harrison.

The Beatles: Rock Band criticism and reception is an advantageous opportunity for discourse analysis. The aforementioned critical polarity as well as divisions of “I love Beatles and…” or “I hate the Beatles, so…” has not or will not prevent meaningful discussion of the game, but can’t seem to break out of the already established ideology of The Beatles. How do we deal with the game while interrogating the myth? Roland Barthes notably grapples with the enormity of myth: “We constantly drift between the object and its demystification, powerless to render its wholeness. For if we penetrate the object, we liberate it but we destroy it; and if we acknowledge its full weight, we respect it, but we restore it to a state which is still mystified.”6. I am guilty of the very trend I discuss in this article, but admittingly, I am also a Beatles fan who waited outside on September 9th to pick up my reserved copy of the game. So is The Beatles: Rock Band a revolution? Perhaps the better question is how and why the question is posed in the first place.

Image Credits:
1. Virtual Abbey Road Studio
2. The Beatles on The Ed Sullivan Show
3. The Virtual Beatles on The Ed Sullivan Show
4. “Here Comes the Sun” studio dreamscape

Please feel free to comment.

1. Seth Schiesel. “All Together Now: Play the Game, Mom.” September 6, 2009. http://www.nytimes.com/2009/09/06/arts/television/06schi.html
2. Ian Bogost. “Life Goes On Within You and Without You: On The Beatles: Rock Band. September 7, 2009. http://www.bogost.com/blog/life_goes_on_within_you_and_wi.shtml
3. Original italics. Daniel Radosh. “While My Guitar Gently Beeps.” New York Times. August 11, 2009. http://www.nytimes.com/2009/08/16/magazine/16beatles-t.html?ei=5087&en=68e1babf436ab82d&ex=1265688000&pagewanted=all
4. A photo fact for “While My Guitar Gently Weeps” mentions Clapton’s participation. Likewise, other photo facts reveal Keith Richard and Mick Jagger’s participation in “All You Need is Love” and Billy Preston on “Get Back” and “Don’t Let Me Down.” However, their participation nor the presence of Yoko Ono in later recording sessions are represented in the virtual backgrounds that occur within the game.
5. E3 2009 Microsoft/Xbox 360 Presentation of The Beatles: Rock Band
6. Roland Barthes. Mythologies. Trans. Annette Lavers. Hill and Wang: New York, 1984. http://www.artsci.wustl.edu/~marton/myth.html