#11) Embodiment

“Gone Home” has been a quite successful game, receiving many recent awards such as “Best Narrative Game” by PC Gamer, “Best Games of 2013” by USA TODAY, “Best Story” by IGN, and many more. (http://www.gonehomegame.com) As a story exploration game, there is no set way to experience or “go through” the game, since many different items are set up in each room for you to click on, read, and listen to in order to figure out where the sister has gone. Unfortunately, I missed the last few minutes of the game, where the story was concluded, so I did not know what was done to piece together the ending, or how the character “wins” the game. I am not aware of how the player can communicate to the game that is has officially and successfully solved the riddle, or found the answer. It might just require the player to manipulate the character to enter every space and collect enough audio journal entries from the sister, and then the story just propels itself to the finish line, whether or not the player has actually been able to solve the mystery on their own.

I think I have a unique experience and outlook on this whole gaming process and “journey” through the game because I saw the entire game being played, yet I did not see the ending played out. This caused me to realize just how significant and motivational the result or goal of video games always are, because without it, the player might not experience the fullest level of satisfaction. It might all feel like a waste. While it often a fun escape to delve into a digital world and manipulate it for a while, being embodied in a video game like this for too long (depending on the mobility and controls of the interface) can cause anxiety if there is no reward at the end of the process. There can feel like a separation between emotion and investment by the real person (player) and the emotions and investment of the “other” (avatar), which is really just an animatronic, digital version of the player, who cannot actually feel or invest anything without the player to manipulate their every move. However, they do somehow seem to possess a source of power and control that the player does not.

These feelings of extreme separation, miscommunication, frustration and varying proximity (physical and metaphorical, I guess) between the player and character remind me of a quote by Sobchack that was mentioned in the assigned Timothy Crick reading, “the moving camera is originally perceived by us in experience as an ‘other’ who is animate, conscious, and experiences and intends towards its own conscious activity as we do,” (260). For “Gone Home,” there is no avatar, no moving “people” or characters of any kind. The player is completely alone, and even more so, because there is no body or avatar to even represent the player. The camera is the player, thus the game is “shot” through the lens of the player’s eyes, which seemed to cause me more stress as I observed the game being played. I felt like I wanted to see “myself” (the player), or have some connection to humankind or any form of “life”, even if it was digitized. I echo Crick’s questioning, regarding the cinematic elements of video games and how it manipulates the view of the world and experience for the player:

“…as digital imaging technologies and techniques strive closer to replicating the cinematic moving image, to what extent do her views on digital imagery still seem applicable to our phenomenological experiences of engaging with contemporary video games?” (260)

I have had experience with video games, but not for quite a while. And when I heard the explanation of the interface for interacting with this particular game, I became worried that I would not know how to both control the “camera” (the POV), and the movement of the character with the arrows, plus making decisions to click on certain things, while ultimately following the plotline. It felt like a lot of responsibility, and an extreme control over both hand, eye, and brain coordination. Yet I am able to manipulate a lot of other forms of technology in my everyday life. In fact, the game was being played on the exact same type of computer that I use every single day. However, there is something quite different about having to operate the perspective and actions of a presumed “other” character that is both living in a world inside your computer (one that you can control to an extent, but not change) and is receiving life and mobility through the person outside the computer. Crick summarizes Sobchacks’s observations on these two bodies more clearly:

“…although this body is realized by the physical presence of the camera, it cannot be reduced to its mechanisms because the viewer does not experience it in that way. The film’s body is neither the camera nor the lens; neither the projector nor the screen…it is, rather, the sum of its parts.” (260)

This type of theology is something that can only fully be understood through application. The reason why people usually do not like video games is because they are not good at them; they have a hard time dealing with these two personas that are both there, yet not entirely there on their own. They are co-dependent, yet since it is all a simulation, it is never 100% a real connection and cohesion between the video game persona and the person operating the controllers.

“The software-simulated mobile camera that follows (or inhabits) a character in a virtual world serves double duty as the perceptive organ of a ‘game body.’” (261) This “game body” is both immersive and restrictive, as it shifts from the perspective of first-person to third-person. To contrast, this is why many people LOVE video games. It is intriguing and exciting to know that you can be both the author and the player, creating the adventure in an established world other than your own, and where all the action is actually fake and does not have real consequences. The “film body” theory by Sobchack, yet explained in detail by Crick, explains how the player “is theoretically able to exist within differing spatial domains during a first-person gaming experience, operating both on and in the game’s space from their own physical space…In other words, it seems like the player is playing as themselves from an imaginary perspective because he or she is not placed into that field by means of a visible avatar.” (262-263)

These are the parameters of “Gone Home.” Without having a person to represent “us” as the player, it causes us to focus more on how we manipulate our own camera views, and to engage with the entire world around us. With an avatar, there is the tendency to stare at it and focus on controlling its many movement options (jump kick, punch, run, etc.) Without it, there feels like less of a safety net, and less of a distinction between reality and representation. Your eyes are the camera’s eyes. This whole observation and experience made me concentrate more on what people both like and detest about video games in general, and what how the different type of interfaces might control their opinion and stress over certain games. It is nice to feel connected to the game, as if it is a circuit, which Haraway explained as a technology that extends human reach. At the same time, though, it can make the player feel very limited and restricted in a world like “Gone Home” where many things have to be manipulated at one time in order to play it.

Overall, it was fascinating to think about the games I played as a kid, and how much technology has advanced since then. Also, comparing the mechanics of operating a video game with a controller vs. a computer were truly insightful observations, as I pondered on my own aesthetics regarding digital embodiment and participation of certain video games. I personally like the handheld controller with the avatar, yet I am a big fan of things like Rock Band, where you manipulate your controller to hit certain buttons at certain times. Ultimately, video games that allow the person to mimic reality (dancing, instruments, singing) will remain popular because of how it forces the actual body to be a part of the process, and is less about manipulating an avatar on the screen or controlling the “camera.”