Journey - Mechanics Driven Narrative
In an industry hurtling towards cinematic storytelling, Journey succeeds brilliantly in something that most games do not even attempt - telling an intricate emotional story almost entirely through its game mechanics. Most AAA games leverage on elaborate visual cut scenes for exposition and plot progression, while gameplay itself is interspersed in between these cut scenes. While this seems to have become an accepted industry norm, clearly this reduces games to a format that does not leverage on its inherent strength – interactivity. But why is interactivity important in and off itself, particularly in the realm of storytelling? In the world of stories, the phrase “show don’t tell” is often thrown about. An interactive mechanics driven narrative is a perfect embodiment of “showing” and not “telling”. It is still early days for games as a medium of storytelling. With this premise, it is perhaps not an exaggeration to say that Journey provides a window into the future of how games will deliver narrative.
Journey tells its story with no dialogue and minimal linear cinematics. ThatGameCompany hinted at the fact that Journey is a tale of the cycle of life. The fact that this is only one of infinite possible interpretations, is testimony to Journey’s aesthetics. The protagonist is an ambiguous hooded character whose identity is left unclarified throughout the short three hour experience. However, it is this very lack of clarification that allows the player to project himself/herself into the character, thereby allowing its infinite interpretations. It also enhances every interaction that the game provides as the player is now searching within himself for a mapping of that interaction to his own life. This does not however mean that Journey does not tell its own story. The most obvious means of indirect control is the mountain that is exposed right at the offset of the game, and continues to serve as a guiding force throughout the game. Seldom throughout the entire game does the player lose sight of the mountain as the primary objective.
Journey is a wonderful example of how goals and constraints streamline the creative process and allow objectivity in the realm of pure subjectivity. Clearly personalization of the story was important to the creators of Journey and many decisions emanate from this objective. None of these are more obvious than the decision to use musical notes as the player’s one and only “power” within the world. While language is inherently tied to culture, the ability to interpret music reaches down to human beings at a cellular level. How more apt then, than to use the universality of music in a game that seeks interpretation. In Journey players may interact with the world only through music, though its effects are many. Music allows platforming, attracts other characters towards yourself, activation of shrines and various other effects on the environment. On another level, the world asks you to fill it with song as it is a desolate treacherous world with sand and ice. Music serves as a symbol of hope in barrenness, and herein Journey once again communicates a message through its mechanics. However, its most poignant usage comes in conjunction with another game mechanic.
The journey through Journey is a lonely one (perhaps this is an attempt to mirror life, or perhaps I overreach in my interpretation)! However ever so often, as in real life, you stumble upon another veiled ambiguous stranger in a similar journey of his own. The catch is that these characters are in fact online avatars of players who are in the exact same position. The characters all look the exact same with the same coloured robe and hood. Through this seemingly accidental design decision, Journey sends us a message that no matter who we are and where we come from, we are perhaps not really all that different. Unlike typical MMOs the identity of the other player is kept completely underneath the hood until the end of the game. The players’ only means of communication is to chirp back and forth. There is something deeply compelling about wondering what this other person, who may be anywhere around the world, is trying to tell you through his own little notes. Invariably, in a fascinating demonstration of the human condition, most players report playing the entire game with these spontaneously formed in-game companions. One cannot help but wonder whether the same connections would have been possible if these were NPCs.
Another design decision that communicates narrative is the homogeneity of art style. In Journey, you use small chirps to absorb small floating pieces of cloth which give you a boost of flying power. All of these pieces of cloth look the exact same as your own veiled garb. Once again this seemingly accidental, yet clearly informed decision allows a host of interpretations. Does this perhaps indicate that through the journey of life we discover parts of ourselves along the way? That in becoming more whole we empower ourselves? More important than the specifics of the interpretation, it is important to note that this story is conveyed through a game design decision and not an outright cinematic “telling” of the message.
Much like everything else about Journey, game flow is simple. Even though you can’t outrightly “die” in the game, play never becomes devoid of danger. Broadly gameplay elements divide into puzzle solving, platforming and avoiding the antagonist’s gaze. Puzzle solving usually involves using your musical power to unlock certain way points which lead you onwards. The platforming mechanic is also similar; you use your chirping powers to garner enough charge to glide to the next platform. The game doesn’t really attempt to punish the player for missing a platform as most sequences are short with various checkpoints. The antagonists in Journey are looming mechanical figures whose gaze you must avoid. Once again failure to meet this objective does not impede progress by much. Regardless of this lack of difficulty arc, the above mentioned sequences are intense. Art and sound play a lead role in creating this intensity with the antagonist’s large looming scale and terrifying roars. More importantly what needs to be noted here is that Journey achieves its interest curve with minimal change in its procedures and punishment-reward mechanisms. In doing so the game serves as an outstanding example arguing against procedural rhetoric which supports the view that the meaning of a game is found in its procedures. The magic of Journey does not lie in its rules; instead it stems from the subtext that emerges from these rules aided by a powerful artistic vision.
Much of this report has dealt with the subtext of Journey’s mechanics. A couple more subtext notes from Journey’s level design is in order. Unlike many games, Journey reveals its antagonists at a fairly late stage. This suits the narrative structure well as so much of the experience of Journey rests on the player’s projection of himself into the protagonist. Therefore a relatively late antagonist confrontation allows a heightened sense of danger, as by this time the player is fully invested in his character, or in some cases even a partner. One of the most emotional moments of my Journey was losing my partner in the first antagonist avoid sequence. Throughout Journey the player never attacks the antagonist outright, and the reason is revealed only at the very end.
This chapter is followed by a platforming level where you encounter an NPC equal in scale to the antagonist but evidently friendly. The distinction is made apparent by an art choice; the NPC is “cut from the same cloth” as the protagonist. The character helps you rise from the depths of darkness and back up into the light. However, the environment that greets you soon is a bleak icy blizzard which you must battle through by hiding behind and underneath safe zones waiting for the wind to seize. Your only power, i.e. the power of music is taken away from you. The end seems to be near and the mountain comes back into view as you take one painstaking step after another towards it. Instead of throwing in a cinematic sequence, the game forces you to make this treacherous walk through the cold even though it’s evident that you will never make it.
Finally, the protagonist collapses into the ice and all hope seems to be lost as thick fog obfuscates the destination you have sought so hard to reach. At this stage the white cloaked figures you have consulted throughout the game restore your powers and amplify it, signified by the lengthening of your cloak tailing behind you. In doing so Journey communicates that only adversity and failure can strengthen the soul to soar above the sky. As you soar you find that the fearsome mechanical creatures are trailing you, seemingly trying to pull you back down. But as you break through the barrier of clouds, you realize that these creatures you have fought so hard against in certain levels are the very same NPCs that helped you fly in others.
Journey tells its story with no dialogue and minimal linear cinematics. ThatGameCompany hinted at the fact that Journey is a tale of the cycle of life. The fact that this is only one of infinite possible interpretations, is testimony to Journey’s aesthetics. The protagonist is an ambiguous hooded character whose identity is left unclarified throughout the short three hour experience. However, it is this very lack of clarification that allows the player to project himself/herself into the character, thereby allowing its infinite interpretations. It also enhances every interaction that the game provides as the player is now searching within himself for a mapping of that interaction to his own life. This does not however mean that Journey does not tell its own story. The most obvious means of indirect control is the mountain that is exposed right at the offset of the game, and continues to serve as a guiding force throughout the game. Seldom throughout the entire game does the player lose sight of the mountain as the primary objective.
Journey is a wonderful example of how goals and constraints streamline the creative process and allow objectivity in the realm of pure subjectivity. Clearly personalization of the story was important to the creators of Journey and many decisions emanate from this objective. None of these are more obvious than the decision to use musical notes as the player’s one and only “power” within the world. While language is inherently tied to culture, the ability to interpret music reaches down to human beings at a cellular level. How more apt then, than to use the universality of music in a game that seeks interpretation. In Journey players may interact with the world only through music, though its effects are many. Music allows platforming, attracts other characters towards yourself, activation of shrines and various other effects on the environment. On another level, the world asks you to fill it with song as it is a desolate treacherous world with sand and ice. Music serves as a symbol of hope in barrenness, and herein Journey once again communicates a message through its mechanics. However, its most poignant usage comes in conjunction with another game mechanic.
The journey through Journey is a lonely one (perhaps this is an attempt to mirror life, or perhaps I overreach in my interpretation)! However ever so often, as in real life, you stumble upon another veiled ambiguous stranger in a similar journey of his own. The catch is that these characters are in fact online avatars of players who are in the exact same position. The characters all look the exact same with the same coloured robe and hood. Through this seemingly accidental design decision, Journey sends us a message that no matter who we are and where we come from, we are perhaps not really all that different. Unlike typical MMOs the identity of the other player is kept completely underneath the hood until the end of the game. The players’ only means of communication is to chirp back and forth. There is something deeply compelling about wondering what this other person, who may be anywhere around the world, is trying to tell you through his own little notes. Invariably, in a fascinating demonstration of the human condition, most players report playing the entire game with these spontaneously formed in-game companions. One cannot help but wonder whether the same connections would have been possible if these were NPCs.
Another design decision that communicates narrative is the homogeneity of art style. In Journey, you use small chirps to absorb small floating pieces of cloth which give you a boost of flying power. All of these pieces of cloth look the exact same as your own veiled garb. Once again this seemingly accidental, yet clearly informed decision allows a host of interpretations. Does this perhaps indicate that through the journey of life we discover parts of ourselves along the way? That in becoming more whole we empower ourselves? More important than the specifics of the interpretation, it is important to note that this story is conveyed through a game design decision and not an outright cinematic “telling” of the message.
Much like everything else about Journey, game flow is simple. Even though you can’t outrightly “die” in the game, play never becomes devoid of danger. Broadly gameplay elements divide into puzzle solving, platforming and avoiding the antagonist’s gaze. Puzzle solving usually involves using your musical power to unlock certain way points which lead you onwards. The platforming mechanic is also similar; you use your chirping powers to garner enough charge to glide to the next platform. The game doesn’t really attempt to punish the player for missing a platform as most sequences are short with various checkpoints. The antagonists in Journey are looming mechanical figures whose gaze you must avoid. Once again failure to meet this objective does not impede progress by much. Regardless of this lack of difficulty arc, the above mentioned sequences are intense. Art and sound play a lead role in creating this intensity with the antagonist’s large looming scale and terrifying roars. More importantly what needs to be noted here is that Journey achieves its interest curve with minimal change in its procedures and punishment-reward mechanisms. In doing so the game serves as an outstanding example arguing against procedural rhetoric which supports the view that the meaning of a game is found in its procedures. The magic of Journey does not lie in its rules; instead it stems from the subtext that emerges from these rules aided by a powerful artistic vision.
Much of this report has dealt with the subtext of Journey’s mechanics. A couple more subtext notes from Journey’s level design is in order. Unlike many games, Journey reveals its antagonists at a fairly late stage. This suits the narrative structure well as so much of the experience of Journey rests on the player’s projection of himself into the protagonist. Therefore a relatively late antagonist confrontation allows a heightened sense of danger, as by this time the player is fully invested in his character, or in some cases even a partner. One of the most emotional moments of my Journey was losing my partner in the first antagonist avoid sequence. Throughout Journey the player never attacks the antagonist outright, and the reason is revealed only at the very end.
This chapter is followed by a platforming level where you encounter an NPC equal in scale to the antagonist but evidently friendly. The distinction is made apparent by an art choice; the NPC is “cut from the same cloth” as the protagonist. The character helps you rise from the depths of darkness and back up into the light. However, the environment that greets you soon is a bleak icy blizzard which you must battle through by hiding behind and underneath safe zones waiting for the wind to seize. Your only power, i.e. the power of music is taken away from you. The end seems to be near and the mountain comes back into view as you take one painstaking step after another towards it. Instead of throwing in a cinematic sequence, the game forces you to make this treacherous walk through the cold even though it’s evident that you will never make it.
Finally, the protagonist collapses into the ice and all hope seems to be lost as thick fog obfuscates the destination you have sought so hard to reach. At this stage the white cloaked figures you have consulted throughout the game restore your powers and amplify it, signified by the lengthening of your cloak tailing behind you. In doing so Journey communicates that only adversity and failure can strengthen the soul to soar above the sky. As you soar you find that the fearsome mechanical creatures are trailing you, seemingly trying to pull you back down. But as you break through the barrier of clouds, you realize that these creatures you have fought so hard against in certain levels are the very same NPCs that helped you fly in others.
