Sean Bouchard

Photopia is an interesting example of nonlinear narrative because, within the interactive fiction community, it's considered extremely linear. In the context of traditional media studies, of course, the story is told in a nonlinear manner - segments appear out of chronological order and interrupt what would otherwise be a continuous narrative. In interactive fiction, however, linearity is generally used to describe how much the story can change based on the actions of the player. IF is frequently based on a branching narrative structure, in which the player's decisions affect the outcome of the story. In this sense, Photopia is quite linear. Regardless of what actions the player takes, the same story is told.

Take, for example, the illustrative third scene of the game, in which the player, as Mary Dawson, witnesses her daughter drowning in a pool in the backyard. The intention of this scene is for the player to discover Alley, pull her out of the pool, and perform CPR. A third character, Gabriel, stands nearby, giving the player instructions, and serving to increase the sense of urgency in the scene. If the player fails or refuses to take the intended actions, however, Gabriel will step in and save Alley, ensuring that the end result of the scene is the same regardless of what actions the player takes. In another work of IF, the same scene might be constructed differently, so that the player could potentially fail to save Alley and thereby change the course of the narrative, or send the game to a failure-state. In Photopia, because it is such a linear narrative, these outcomes are not possible.

At the same time, Photopia is not a work of static fiction. The choice to tell this story in an interactive medium was a deliberate one, and interactivity is an essential part of the experience. But, if the player can't actually influence the course of events, what precisely is the role of interactivity? Photopia uses an interactive format and the illusion of control to create a sense of agency, which creates the emotional resonance of certain scenes in the game. The interactive format gives the player a certain expectation about how they will relate to the story - namely, the player expects that the decisions he makes will matter. This expectation naturally leads to a feeling of responsibility. If the outcome of the story is based on the player's decisions, then the player is responsible for making good decisions that affect the story in a positive way. This sense of agency persists, even though actual control over the story is subverted.

Again, let us examine the scene in which Alley is drowning in the pool. This scene evokes a feeling of desperation in the player: the shock of seeing the girl face-down in the pool is followed by frantic activity as Gregory continually reminds you that time is running out. The player's natural reaction is to feel pressure to act quickly and without making a mistake. Of course, we know that this reaction is somewhat misguided, since there is, in fact, no chance that a misstep on the player's part will result in Alley's death. Still, the player feels a sense of agency based on the fact that he is allowed to take actions within the context of the story, and this is the root cause of the emotion the player feels during this sequence. In a work of static fiction, this scene might focus on Mary's emotional state, describing to the reader the panic that she feels while trying to rescue her daughter, and the reader might feel a sympathetic desperation. But, in the context of static fiction, it is clear that the author is the one responsible for how the scene resolves. The reader may feel relief when Alley is ultimately saved, but it is relief that the author chose to save her, not that the reader himself managed to save her. By giving the player choices and a sense of agency, even if it is based on a mere illusion of control, the scene's emotional score is altered and amplified.

The emotional impact of agency granted by the illusion of control is also well-demonstrated by the second scene of the game, in which the player, as Wendy Mackaye, explores the red planet. The player is permitted to move in any of the cardinal directions among the debris of a failed colony and encounters a series of specific locations before finally arriving at his destination. What is not made clear on the first play-through of the game is that these locations don't change based on the direction that the player chooses to move. Regardless of the player's choices, the events and their sequence is the same. The player's control over the narrative is, once again, completely illusory, but still provides a sense of agency that affects the emotional impact of the scene. The player believes they are actually exploring a space and feels, therefore, anxiety about taking a wrong turn and accomplishment at eventually reaching the goal. Agency, which gives the player a feeling of responsibility over the narrative, changes the emotional impact that the experience of that narrative for the player.

The lesson that Photopia teaches us about agency is that it isn't about control over the narrative, but rather the feeling of control over the narrative. A well-constructed game can make the player feel responsible for the outcome of the choices he makes without actually giving him the power to affect that outcome. There are downsides to this approach, of course. If the player recognizes that his choices aren't affecting the course of the narrative, then the sense of agency is lost, and events lose the impact of any agency-based emotions. This makes the second play-through of the game a profoundly different experience than the first, since the player is likely to alter his actions and realize that there is no corresponding alteration in the narrative.