Tag: digital: a love story

#oneaday Day 96: Don’t Take It Personally, Babe

The thing I like about games that are a bit off the beaten track is the fact that they’re not afraid to break with every gaming convention under the sun in order to try something a bit different. Objectively, sometimes they’re not great “games” in the traditional sense, but they are definitely worthwhile experiences that explore interesting new ways of telling stories.

One “author” who produces such games is Christine Love, who is fond of creating ren’ai titles. For the uninitiated, ren’ai games have strong plot elements of romantic love. They’re not necessarily dating sims or hentai games—though some are—but all of them have a narrative which explores love and emotions. Final Fantasy VIII, for example, is regarded as a ren’ai game. Stretching the definition somewhat, you could even argue Silent Hill 2 has elements of the genre.

The appropriately-named Love’s titles, however, are much more up-front about their intentions. Digital: A Love Story and the oddly-named Don’t Take It Personally, Babe, It Just Ain’t Your Story are two games which go about telling a ren’ai tale in similar, though markedly different fashions. Both of them revolve heavily around the use of technology and its role in interpersonal relations.

I’ll resist spoiling either of them, but I think they’re well worth exploring for anyone interested in the “visual novel” genre—anyone who liked games such as the Ace Attorney series, 999 or Hotel Dusk, for example.

Digital: A Love Story sits you at the desk of an Amiga (or rather, a non-copyright infringing equivalent) five minutes into the future of 1988. Purely by interacting with your computer and dialling up a number of virtual BBS systems, a genuinely compelling tale is told without any graphics whatsoever. You don’t “break character” for a single instant in the game, and it’s this gameplay “hook” that keeps you playing to see what’s going on. I’ll say nothing else, as that would spoil it. But it’s excellent—if only for nostalgia value. It happens to tell a good story, too.

Don’t Take It Personally… is a little different. Taking a more Japanese style to its art, it looks like a dating game, though it isn’t one. Casting players in the role of John Rook, a 38-year old double divorcee who came to high school teaching in 2027 as part of a mid-life crisis, it tells a tale which explores interpersonal and social issues that you don’t generally see in games. It’s a relatively simplistic visual novel in terms of gameplay, with only a few choices to make, but like Digital, it’s the story that matters. And it’s told in a very interesting way through three different “layers”. There’s the face-to-face action, where the player, as John, sees and hears what’s going on in front of him. John also has access to his students’ Facebook-like social network, though, and is able to read any of his students’ communications—even the private ones—giving an ethically-questionable insight into what they’re thinking and what is really going on behind the dramas that unfold. And thirdly, this game features possibly the only time you’ll ever see 4chan (sorry, “12channel”) being used as a Greek chorus.

Both games have a “message” and while Don’t Take It Personally in particular is a little heavy-handed with it towards the end, it’s cool to see games trying to say something a little more than the usual melodrama.

So check ’em out. They take, like, two hours at most each. And they’re free. You love free stuff, right?

#oneaday, Day 325: Interactive Fiction

There’s a lot to be said for interactivity (or at least the illusion of interactivity) in storytelling. It allows things to be done that are simply impossible with non-interactive media such as books, TV and film.

I spent a couple of hours this afternoon playing Digital: A Love Story, a wonderful game set on the desktop of an Amiga “five minutes into the future of 1988”. If you haven’t played it yet and are intrigued by the premise, I suggest you play it before reading on, because I’m probably going to spoil some things about it. I’ll try not to be too explicit.

At the outset of the game, the player is the proud recipient of a brand-new “Amie” computer with a built-in modem. Your benefactor also provides you with a phone number of a BBS that you might want to check out. And so the story begins with the player dialing into the BBS, complete with terrifyingly authentic-sounding dial and modem tones screeching from your computer’s speakers. The player quickly gets friendly with a person named Emilia and things develop quickly in a manner that will be immediately familiar to anyone who has ever had an online relationship.

All is not as it seems, however, and the player, through a bit of investigation, discovers that there are strange things at work. The BBS crashes, and there is no way of getting in contact with Emilia. Just prior to the crash, she said she was “leaving home” and “getting out”. Thus begins a quest across several BBSes, ARPANet and Sprint’s long-distance calling-card system to track down Emilia and discover what happened.

The game is completely linear. Things happen in a set order, right up to the ending, when the player is faced with an inevitable conclusion that there really is no way around. At this point, we reach one of the most powerful things that gaming can do, and ironically one of the least interactive things about narrative games.

Offer the player the opportunity to do two things: do something, or walk away. Walking away is usually not an option, though Heavy Rain managed to convincingly offer this as an alternative at several points throughout its narrative. Digital: A Love Story, however, makes it abundantly clear that there is only one course of action open to you, and it’s an unpleasant one. Given the great pains that the game has taken up until this point to make you “feel” for the characters involved, despite being based around screens of text, it is difficult to make that final mouse click.

This is something you just can’t do with a book. Stopping halfway down the page and printing “Turn the page to see what happens next” is not an established literary convention, nor should it be. Same with TV and film; with those media, we’re just along for the ride. It’s the reason very few books save the Fighting Fantasy and Choose Your Own Adventure series are written in second-person perspective.

But with a game, the player has been driving the story all along, even if there is only really ever one thing they can do at a time to advance the plot to the next “event”. That illusion of interactivity allows the player to be all the more invested in the story, as if they’re part of the game world. This is further aided in titles such as Digital: A Love Story, which don’t break “character” for a moment. As far as the player is concerned, they’re using an Amiga… sorry, “Amie”. They’re not playing a game, they’ve been transported back in time to 1988, a land of 320×200 graphics, questionable multitasking capabilities and scanlines.

The ending of Digital: A Love Story is bittersweet and if you’ve engaged with the game up until that point in the way it is intended to be engaged with, you’ll find it genuinely emotionally affecting. It’s always interesting when a title which looks so unassuming can actually end up being more powerful than self-consciously “epic” CG cutscenes and over-the-top orchestral music with people singing in Latin.

So, if you remember 1988, if you ever had an Amiga or you remember the golden age of the BBS, check out Digital: A Love Story. It’s free, and well worth your time.