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Why Narrative Does Not Define Your Game

“Now that games are considered ‘art’, they need to feature more mature, responsible stories and life lessons.” No. No they don’t.

The Art in Gaming

The idea of story-telling as an art form is as old as the concept of art itself – but the sentiment that art in gaming comes entirely from the content of the narrative is as big of a fallacy as saying that art in music comes solely from the content of the lyrics. Now, I enjoy a game with a solid narrative – or the occasional lyrical lore of Slick Rick’s whimsical story albums – but those narrative aspects do not wholly represent the artistic value in their respective mediums. Can a game be as artistic without a traditional narrative or any substantial narrative at all? Game Theory’s MatPat makes a compelling argument that it can. In his woefully underrated YouTube series DeadLock (#bringbackdeadlock), The Last of Us is pitted against Pac Man to see which is the artiest.


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DeadLock: The Last of Us vs. Pac-Man: Which is more artistic?

Both sides make great points on behalf of their respective games, but specifically I want to focus on the idea of choice taking something away from an art form. The classic reasoning is that art is a communication from the artist to the audience and anything that gets in the way of that communication – like player agency and choice – take away from that artistic expression. This is the basis of a view (held by Roger Ebert, among others) that games need to emulate movies and books to be artistic. This view is patently and absolutely untrue.

Now I should say that the aim of this writing is not to crap all over narrative-driven games, but to discern the artistic value at the core of our interactive medium, and to illustrate that games are and have always been artistic in their own right. Today I would like to explore how facilitating player choice in gaming actually adds artistic value, how our medium is inherently different from books and movies, that narrative does not define our medium and that gamers too play a huge role in shaping the artistry in video games.

I’m going to be talking about “narrative-driven” games a lot in this writing, so let me define exactly what I mean. There are many ways to tell a story or to construct a narrative, each one working a little differently in the context of its own medium. I want to be very clear that when I’m talking about a “narrative-driven game”, I’m referring specifically to games that use the traditional definition and structure of narrative. Games that use a string of connected events to march the player towards the end of a story, one piece of exposition at a time. Games where the artistic value is generally focused on linear narrative rather than dynamic gameplay. Of course, concepts like “artistic value” are difficult to nail down, but more on that a bit later. First, we need to look at a few themes and sentiments in gaming culture today in order to identify why some consider narrative to be the artistic driving force in modern gaming.


Visual representation of linear narrative.

A Shift in Ideology

Recently there’s been a dramatic shift in video game ideology that prioritizes “smarter”, more thought-provoking games – games with deeper characters and greater meaning. The idea is that because gaming hardware has evolved to let developers present more fleshed-out characters, enhanced dialogue options and longer cutscenes, developers should use these opportunities to create narrative-rich,  cohesive epics that teach us valuable lessons about social responsibility and the world around us. If this sounds great on paper, that’s because – on paper – it is. In fact, if this is the driving force behind the game you’re making, I would recommend just sticking to paper instead. Consider that mediums such as books and film can convey messages much more directly. If you’re setting out to make a strong point, directness and brevity are key.


If you can’t convey your point here, slapping it on to a game probably won’t help.

This shift in ideology is perhaps best vocalized by Chris Franklin in his excellent and informative YouTube series Errant Signal. In his review of GTAV, he praises the game’s graphics and attention to detail, but laments that it lacked a singular narrative, that it didn’t commit to any particular set of ideals or politics and that it didn’t find enough worthy social targets to “take down a few pegs”. Afterall, how could such a technically competent, detail-driven game miss the opportunity to make a statement about our society? Why would the developers toil so long and hard on a project without adding some critical social commentary that would live on as the artistic impression on history that is GTAV? Why is it just violence for violence’s sake?

To me, asking these questions is akin to asking why a show as beloved as Rick and Morty (if you’re not familiar, please do yourself a favor and check it out) never commits to a political message or specific ideology – or why it’s just a show with humor for humor’s sake. Almost every episode is rich with meaning and takeaways, yet there is no singular agenda or message other than Rick’s sense of science nihilism.


Blips & Chitz!

Similarly, every moment of play in GTAV offers something to take away from it, if you choose to. It may not be perfect or always deeply meaningful, but it gives players the freedom to take what they deem valuable away from each experience. More to the point, it allows players to forge their own mini-narratives without an overbearing plot hammering them on the head with whatever life lesson the developer deems worthy of learning that year. This is key: your audience is not stupid. The people who play your games are going to be able to formulate their own life lessons if they choose to.


“I’ve learned nothing!”


Ludonarrative Dissonance

Ludonarrative dissonance is a term that means the gameplay (ludo) and the narrative (narrative) are at odds with one another. It’s a term that comes up a great deal in conversations about modern gaming because more often than not, narrative-heavy games have this conflict working against them. Ever play a Call of Duty game where your character dies about 240 times during the game, but then dies again and stays dead in the story, leaving you wondering what the difference was? Ever get stuck on a difficult part of a game for days only to beat it later and totally lose the pacing the plot had built up? Ever get told by the game that you have to “hurry”, only to fully expect the game doesn’t care how much time you take? Those are all examples of ludonarrative dissonance, and each one degrades the effectiveness of both the narrative and the game. This last example can feel especially betraying to players because it puts them directly at odds with the game creators. How many narratives have you played through where your NPC buddy with the shifty eyes ends up betraying you in the third act? You probably saw it coming, but it didn’t matter because you – as the player – have no control over the situation. Because you – as the character in the game – have to go through the motions and can’t figure out that characters with shifty eyes are most often dubious.

I get that you’re “playing a role” of a character that is less observant than you might be, but is that really rewarding? Are those the kinds of roles you want to play? It’s one thing to yell “don’t go in there, stupid” at movie characters that are lacking the wherewithal of basic human survival, but when that character in some way represents you or your actions it reflects poorly on the player too. It feels almost like the game is lying to you – like it lacks trust in your ability to make entertaining choices for yourself. Basically, it’s the video game equivalent of having food ordered for you on a first date, or your parents answering your excited inquiries with “just because” for lack of trust in your ability to understand the answer. It’s patronizing and insulting to your audience. You should never be the kind of developer to purposefully mislead your audience like this.


This idea is perhaps best represented by the eventual introduction of quick time events to major titles. To me, these events always came off somewhere between a desperate need to mash gameplay together with cutscenes, and the developers simply not trusting the player with enough freedom to properly enjoy the best parts of their game. Typically, these glorified reaction tests will rear their ugly head right as you’re about to actually do something exciting. The game will flash a prompt on the screen, essentially degrading the player’s entire experience to a pass-or-fail state. Worse yet, some games don’t even trust the players enough to perform the simple task of pressing a button in time, instead opting to simply wait until you press it or hilariously enough just pretend that you had (I’m looking at you, Telltale games).

Look, experimenting with different, even simplified inputs is not the issue here. I freakin’ LOVE One Finger Death Punch, and I very much enjoyed Heavy Rain for what it was – a game that decided from the start that it would try something new and stuck to its guns. Those games are consistent in their approach and I applaud them for it. What I dislike here is game creators yanking control away from the player for the sake of spectacle or exposition.


Games can be phenomenal at asking players questions that provoke thought and experimentation. As players, selecting between carefully weighed options can be a cathartic and profoundly enlightening experience. However, being presented with choices that don’t matter or plot elements that are supposed to evoke a certain response or promote a specific agenda just don’t work as well in this medium. Some people might be on board with whatever point the game is trying to push, but it will rub the rest of the audience the wrong way. Allowing players to make their own choices is at the very core of gaming. Giving the player the ability and knowledge to make interesting and well-informed decisions is the very nature of good game design.

The “I Don’t Have Time for Challenging Games” Fallacy

Another common theme I’ve heard echoed in every part of this discussion is, “Gamers are older now, they have jobs and kids. They don’t have time for challenging games and learning when they’re just taking time to relax.” Even Wisecrack’s phenomenal carrot and stick video brushed this off as a hard fact. This point is harder for me to argue because there is a great deal of truth in that statement. I have a full time job, an after hours game development career, a fiance I live with and an addiction to gaming that someone outside our industry would quickly diagnose as unhealthy were it not for the tangential relationship to the aforementioned game development. Time is rarely on my side. The idea here is that because we have less time, we should be playing games where progress is easier to make, saving time in the process. This seems to make perfect sense.


The fallacy here is the assumption that learning is inherently devoid of entertainment value (i.e., “I just got done with homework; I’m not playing games to do more learning.”) and that lack of progress in video games necessarily requires repetition. For now, I’ll address the latter assumption, as this idea of repetition has been beaten into us by earlier games and cemented in our minds by today’s narrative-driven ones. While early games were typically limited by technology and used repetition as a means of extending game length, modern games have adopted this tradition while trying to tell compelling narratives at the same time.

The result is often that of a skipping record (records are like big blu-ray disks with no video), forcing you to experience the same part of a story over and over and over again. This effect is objectively devoid of any artistic or entertainment value. The simple, and to me, lazy, solution to this was to ease up the difficulty in narrative-driven games in order to make this effect less prevalent and allow players of any skill to experience the artistic qualities of the story without slowing down too much. I believe when people say, “I don’t have time for challenging games”, this is typically what they are referring to. They don’t have time for repetition. They don’t have time to watch the same cutscenes, conversations and quick time events over and over. To developers that stand by the approach of easing up the challenge or restricting player freedom in order to tell a compelling narrative, I again urge you: cut out the middle man. Make a movie. Write a book.

Roger Ebert approves.

There’s certainly a great deal of satisfaction and accomplishment that comes from finishing a game, but we can probably agree that seeing a plot get resolved or the main antagonist get their comeuppance isn’t the entire reason we play. It’s not just a mad dash to the credits; it’s the proverbial rose-smelling in between. There is something powerful that compels most of us to pick up a controller and engage with the medium rather than just watching the cutscenes on YouTube. I think it’s important to understand what that compulsion is and why we feel that it is worth our time. When a game is truly enjoyable, it won’t ask you to qualify it as “enjoyable, but only when some progress is made”. It should feel fun to play, period.

Of course, anyone that’s played a good rouge-like game or Dark Souls already knows at least one alternative approach – don’t force the player to repeat narrative sections of your game. Allow your audience to roll with the punches. Make your games broader instead of longer. If you’ve played XCom on ironman mode (even on easy difficulty) you probably know something about real loss in gaming. Games like The Last of Us can make you cry and feel real emotion for sure, but losing a valuable teammate in XCom will make your soul weep with sorrow at the very thought of picking the game back up again for days. And yet, eventually you will pick it back up, regroup and move on. Forever learning a life lesson of how to deal with loss that a narrative can only attempt to communicate through distant characters on a screen.

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Walk it off, soldier!

Where do Video Games Fit In?

On any given topic, more often than not, video games are compared to movies, but this is a misleading comparison. The difference between these mediums is not just skin deep. Books, movies, poems and paintings are single-form mediums. What I mean by this is not that they’re not interactive (they’re not), but that the artistic message in these mediums is meant to be directly consumed. A more apt comparison to video games would likely be another two-form medium such as a play or (in order to avoid similarities between movies and plays), dance.

Seems legit.

There are countless styles of dance. Some are highly choreographed and specific, while others are wild and uninhibited – yet they all share one thing: They require both a dancer, and something to dance to. These are the two forms of the dance medium to which I’m referring to. Similarly, video games always need a player and something to play. I realize that gameplay culture isn’t really seen in the same artistic light as dancing, but that’s slowly changing. With speed runs, Let’s Plays, Twitch personalities and community play-togethers gaining in popularity, the players themselves are becoming recognized as part of the artistry. Even if you’re playing alone, you still have an audience – you. Just like dancing by yourself takes nothing away from the artistic value of the dance, playing by yourself makes you no less an artist.

Now, at the start of this writing I said the aim wasn’t to crap all over story-driven games, and it isn’t. Theme, setting and tone are instrumental in fleshing out why the actions and objectives in your game should matter to your players. Building context around the gameplay is absolutely paramount in game design. The important takeaway is that those elements should be servicing the gameplay, not the other way around. But hey, everyone can enjoy dance in their own way. No dance is “wrong” or “shouldn’t exist”. But as emerging indie developers we have a lot more freedom to take risks and explore new gaming frontiers. We have an opportunity to experiment and find new ways to move while the rest of the industry is still doing the Hokey Pokey.

Until Next Time

Let’s attempt to bring this full circle. I said earlier that a “artistic value” is difficult to pin down, and we’ve barely scratched the surface here. Specifically “art in gaming” is a very tough subject to approach because the definitions in both “art” and “gaming” can be so nebulous. I’m hoping this short set of decisive art questions can help us get closer to a definition we can work with. I’m planning to use this data when we talk about this topic again and hope your input can be a part of that. With your help, we can start to formulate a clearer idea about how our community defines art and where it actually fits into the bigger picture of our blossoming industry.
Click here to help us gather art data!

For now, I hope this writing has at least made a strong enough case to definitively say “unintentional ludonarrative dissonance in video games takes artistic value away from the whole” and that “narrative doesn’t need to define games just because it can”. Major parts of our industry are doubling down on an approach to game design that is both dated and frustrating. If you’re an indie dev, or someone who is trying to break into this industry, I encourage you to explore why your game is fun for you to play or to think about. What is it about your game that will carry your players through its entirety in an engaging way besides the narrative? Extrapolate those ideas and use them to their fullest extent. Until next time!




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Maxx Golbraykh

Video game fan and indie developer. I love discussing game theory, design, mechanics and anything tangentially game related. Currently working on #HappyChess.


  1. I’m rarely one to respect journalists nowadays (especially since #GamerGate), but here is a journalist that truly understands what is wrong with the gaming industry and this politically correct and “narrative is dominant” approach. I could merely recognize the industry i grew up with and looked up to when i was a kid.

    My passion for video games made be feel like an outcast in the city I grew up in.

    Now, my passion to make video games simply just for the sake of fun, instead of trying to force a compelling story or some political message still makes me an outcast in the gaming industry.

      1. Well, this article shows you have what it takes to be one. Not only that, a more respectable one. I rarely ever can say that to journos anymore.

        Come to think of it, it may not even be as difficult to become one anymore with the technology we have these days.

  2. Cool article, began making me think about which games I feel convey both story and gameplay while using the strength of games as a medium. Some I can think of are 80 Days, Braid, Fez, Hyper Light Drifter, Limbo, and the Witness. Each use different ratios of Say, Show, Do (like in the phrase Show don’t say for movies, and Do don’t show for games) to convey their stories and each have compelling gameplay. All except for 80 Days relies primarily on environmental story telling to give a sense of place while your progression is the actual narrative instead of heavily relying on characters speaking to convey plot. 80 Days is powerful in how you navigate conversations and how situations unfold based on decisions, it’s classic dialog choice but it is very well done.

    Frankly I’m just excited by games and how we can use their strengths to convey meaning whether they use story or not. Also, to clarify, a game is not inherently worse if it is made for the goal of being just fun.

  3. Very interesting article Maxx! I’ve been reading several articles on your blog and following their links, and I definitely feel that you’ve given me a deeper appreciation for what games can and should be.

    Regarding this article, the only point that confused me was the comparison to dance. I’d never heard the term “two-form medium” before, and I’m not sure I understand your point. In dance, you have the music, and you have the dancer. The dancer IS AN ARTIST, even if no one is watching, as you said. But in gaming, you just have the game. The player is NOT an artist, they are the audience; they don’t come into a game trying to create an experience (like a dancer), but rather to HAVE an experience. On the flip side, without a player, a game doesn’t really exist and is just a cool-looking main menu. So I get how a player is part of the art in that regard. Long story short, I feel like you’re on to something by comparing video games to something other than film, but I personally could use a better explanation.

    1. I wanted to cover the two-form medium idea a little more, but the article was already pretty bloated. I may write another piece on just that if there’s interest.

      In any case, I’ll attempt to answer your question to the best of my ability.

      Consider any game that has an instant replay feature, especially those that allow you to modify the replay in some way.

      When you’re watching the replay, you are the audience, but who is the artist? In a large way, you still are, because you dictate the events that take place in the replay. Without you that replay could have never existed.

      But there’s really no difference between a replay of you playing and a direct observation of yourself playing. You are both a participant and an audience at the same time.

      In this way, videogames are a truly unique medium, but dance does come close to matching that representation.

      Like music, you can experience it second hand, though in this case it requires someone else to play it or give you the highlights. Yet the experience of dancing to music isn’t something that is conveyed just by listening to it.

  4. The bottom line is the actual experience, no one is forced to play games, and in our society we have FAR too many critics chiming in who themselves have zero interest in video gaming, but somehow want to be a voice in shaping video game culture.

    Like art, or fiction, or even sports to some extent, video games offer an incredible variety of entertainment for a variety of reasons. I get a magical feeling when I recall the days of playing Legend of Zelda and Killer Instinct, and that is because those are two titles that will always be a magical part of my gaming experience and history. I can’t stand sports or racing games, but others will fall in love with them. Different games connect in different ways for different people.

    To hold games to some impossible, undefinable standard of highbrow artwork is lunacy, and would be impossible to force. Getting jiggling boobs out of all games for example is just as likely as getting cars out of all games. The fallacy is the borg-like illusion that all creative content must appeal to every consumer on earth at all times. There are tens of thousands of mainstream games at this point, and plenty to choose from for anyone interested in gaming from the red-eyed hardcore to the ultra casual.

    Some games can be emotional and mature and really thought provoking, and that’s a beautiful thing. But some others might be purely for gore and shock value, some others to simply relax and enjoy a bright color palette, and others still to get into the minutiae of min-max strategy and character development.

    The entertainment space is large enough for them all, and it’s time for these “industry wide” critics to find a game they like, pick up the controller, and step down off their high horse. As for those who want changes to the industry but have no interest in gaming themselves, they should have no more voice in our industry than a movie critic who doesn’t watch movies.

  5. I enjoyed this article. A few thoughts, if you don’t mind, though. While in the case of narrative-driven games being dumb-downed, I agree, but not for your implied meaning. The problem comes from the actual amount of agency that a player is given in a game world, in regards to the narrative, is it not?

    For example, in the narrative-driven game, the narrative is set based mostly on the amount of time that the writers have to fill it in. Since this usually isn’t a lot, as I’ve read on gamasutra and other places, it makes financial sense to dumb-down the gameplay to suit the narrative. If the story is what the game was created to tell, then delivering that story is the point of the game.

    I think that this comes into play by the way of each choice that a player makes, each act of agency that they have, the amount of writing increases exponentially. For instance, if the player has the choice of walking down a path to the left or the right, then there are obviously three pieces that have to be written there. If the left path and the right path both split off into another left and right path, the number of pieces increases to seven.

    Now to tie that off, that’s only prime decisions. It says nothing about whether the player takes a minute to jog down the path or lazily wanders it for an hour enjoying the scenery. To me, this speaks of a workload problem instead of narratives being cumbersome in certain games.

    That’s not to say that I think that all games should have narratives. Indeed, the top selling games of recent times are casual games, which are about as light on narrative as you can get. They aren’t even all that bad, if a little Skinner Box like for conversion reasons.

    The Ludonarrative dissonance really only comes into play when the player has more agency than the narrative is prepared for. Your shifty eyes example is perfect is demonstrating this. The character that the player is playing does not share the agency that the player has in the situation. Because of this, the player is left holding the bag when shifty eyes is revealed.

    It’s the problem in writing of third person omniscience. The player is a third party in the narrative, and is seeing a lot more of what’s going on than the characters themselves. Because of this, the surprise of the betrayal is gone. But this isn’t an example directly of narrative being unnecessary to games (unnecessary here meaning not needed, not unwanted). It’s just an example of bad writing (or in the case of the example directly, poor communication between the model/asset direction and the writing direction).

    That’s been my take on a lot of the gripe on writing and narrative in games that I’ve read over the past few years. When you look at it from a writer standpoint, it’s less a matter of narrative being irrelevant and more a matter of it not being properly integrated into the game.

    When it comes down to it, when narrative is a part of a game, the gameplay should feed into and support the narrative, the visuals, and the sound. The narrative should support the gameplay, the visuals, and the sound as well. The visuals should support the gameplay, the narrative, and the sound. And the sound should support the gameplay, the narrative, and the visuals.

    That’s my thoughts on it. The reason that games don’t get narrative right is either the gameplay is a slave to the narrative or the narrative is a slave to the gameplay. And all aspects of the development of any creative endeavor should be in equal standing when they are present.

    1. Completely agree. I think portal is maybe the best example we have of narrative and gameplay working well together, but it does so by striking a solid balance rather avoiding the issue. I really like games like XCom, though. The game has story elements without locking players into being strung along by traditional narrative structure.

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