Dealing with "Three Problems for Interactive Storytellers"

In an article I've written, I made mention to the problems listed by Ernest Adams in his great Gamasutra article, The Designer’s Notebook: Three Problems for Interactive Storytellers. It only feels appropriate if I actually list some of the solutions I personally came up with.

1. The Problem of Amnesia – I’ve taken a look at the way in which Chris Avellone writes his stories; specifically Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic II: The Sith Lords (a both indepth and humorous LP and analysis can be found here: http://lparchive.org/Knights-of-the-Old-Republic-II/), and have adjusted the way I write dialogue so that the player is given short blasts of exposition from their main character themselves, which still gives the player the information they need, and it makes the player feel as though they knew what was going on the entire time. I also take the initial part of the game and stretch it out, giving plenty of time for the player to adjust and get comfortable with the way the universe works before they need to get involved in the central conflict, where a higher understanding of the universe is required.
2. The Problem of Internal Consistency – The idea here is that the player is going to play in a way that feels comfortable to them. Therefore, the game needs to recognise this, and should be designed with an edge of freedom. By offering multiple solutions to a single problem that still gel with the character’s personality (for example, Paragon vs. Renegade options in Mass Effect), we give the player room to explore the game in their own immersive way.
3. The Problem of Narrative Flow – The most important thing I’ve realised in terms of this problem is that the player will play and pace the story to their liking. For that reason, I try to make the story more modular (short missions with interchangeable dialogue that can easily be daisy-chained in any way that suits the player) and reduce the amount of alerts that the player should follow the main story; instead, I like to make all my conflicts/missions somewhat involved or related to the central quest. If I have a mission that should be played at a specific points for pacing reasons (for example, a really emotional sequence such as Thessia in Mass Effect 3), I can make a mission appear more relevant without railroading the player by playing radio messages, adding NPCs and elements to the environment that make the world seem desperate for the player to intervene, and also play with the size of mission icon on the map. Pathos is a great tool for convincing the player that they actually are playing a major role in this game world.

One should note that Problems 2 & 3 are both fairly similar, and they are less a problem for the designer, and more for the player. Our job is to make our stories interesting so the player would want to follow our lead, but we should never have to rely on railroading. To each their own.

Keep in mind, this is not a complete list, and one that I will likely often come back to and expand. As an interactive storyteller, I'm always looking for new methods to try and bring interesting stories to my players, and keep them immersed in the world. Hopefully though, this will give designers a bit of a head-start on finding solutions to these problems.

The Cycle

When I first heard Plato's "The Cave", I was confused by it. Only now do I begin to understand.

Birth.

We are completely defenceless. We know nothing, feel something, terrified of everything.

For the first few years, we remain completely dependent on the support of others. This is our most experimental phase. We try moving our arms in new ways, spit bubbles, bite fingers, try out our bladder functions and figure out what calls to use when we need different things. We learn some basic patterns, and begin to practice them so that we can keep living to the next day. Even though we don't know our purpose, we fight for survival nonetheless.

Childhood.

We are still weak. We know little, but we feel much, and our fears grow.

In this period, we become more independent, but we still rely on the support of others. We start to be creative with our experiments. We draw on walls, eat dirt, punch bugs, urinate everywhere but our "potty", and learn the right way to say "Mum" in order to get her attention. As our guardians teach us their versions of right from wrong, we update our patterns, and we start to learn new things about the world and the way it works. We begin to wonder just where our future lies, and we practice our ideas.

School.

Still weak, yet gaining strength. We see the world as more than just colour, express our emotions in new ways, and recklessly abandon our fears.

At every turn, we begin to fight for our independence, asking for help only when we appreciate what others can do for us. We start experimenting less, and we start acting within our accepted limits of behaviour more. We practice sport, learn our favourite foods, get in fights with other kids, leave the toilet seat up, and start to form solid connections with those around us. School begins to mould and shift our understanding of the world, and with innocence, we blindly accept "truth" as "fact". We begin to accept the idea that the week is just a loop of work and rest, and we imagine where we fit in the scale of society.

Teenager.

We act strong, hiding our inner-most weaknesses from everything that could exploit us. We believe we have it all figured out, we give in to our emotions, and fight fear with fire.

We embrace independence, and are willing to fight to the death for it. We no longer need to experiment, as we know all there is to know. We make up dance moves, shove our faces with cheap treats, use dirty tactics to ruin those we despise, practice our sexuality, and use every manipulative bit of language in our arsenal to get our way. After fighting through puberty, we become ignorant to protect ourselves from the fear of making the wrong choices, and we show the world just why we no longer need education. We realise, through religion, culture, arts, sports or work, where we belong, and like a giant puzzle, we begin placing our piece in the "right" place.

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I could go on, but you should already know how the cycle continues. As adults, we begin to reject our emotions, and we lose our fighting edge. As we grow older, we regain our dependency, and begin to see the world in new ways. It ends with us in a bed, learning how to move our arms, feeling pain, afraid about everything. We return to where we came from, none the wiser, but certainly worse for wear.

Human life is all about the cycle, the pattern. We've been breed to be as generic as possible. There's a certain security when things are predictable. Even within our teenage rebellion, the term "special snowflake" becomes prevalent. We try to be individual in the same way as the many, and so we become lost in the sea of life.

In truth, I am afraid. Afraid that I will be one of the last to understand that life is more than just a food chain or a timetable.

I do not want to see the world as others say it is. Freedom is not a word to describe the relief of responsibility. I am not "crazy" for breaking free.

I see, therefore I become.