Until Dawn was the game that got me into games after years of not being interested in them in the slightest. What was it about Until Dawn that caught my attention, and how was it a stepping stone for further forays into gaming?
Before getting to this class with the vocabulary I have now, I used to explain to people why I loved this game using these words almost verbatim: “It’s great! I’m bad at games, but even if I mess up, the game still continues!” I was shocked to find in the reading that this was the very thing that made seasoned gamers view the game more as an interactive movie rather than a game. Tanine Allison writes in her essay, “Losing Control: Until Dawn as Interactive Movie,” that when one makes a mistake, it doesn’t impede progress, it simply changes the story. Why is this a bad facet for so many gamers? In class, Jagoda mentioned the game Dear Esther and its unique controls, and that controls normally limit people’s entries to games. For me, that was certainly the case. Even now that I’m more familiar with controls, I opt for choice based or narrative games over Hollow Knight where I’m currently stuck at the same boss I’ve been stuck at for months. With games being the growing market it is, isn’t it more beneficial to expand on games that more people can enjoy, whether or not they grew up being familiar with controls and normal gaming mechanics?
However, without the gameplay aspect, Until Dawn would be a run of the mill horror movie, hardly worth taking a notice to. I never cared for horror movies, so why do I love horror games? Especially since games put you even closer to the danger, both physically and mentally?
For one, games give you hope. While futility and powerlessness are practiced elements of the horror genre, especially in games (most games giving you only options to run and hide and extreme limitations on fighting, if you have the ability for it in the first place), with the controller in your hands, you have some modicum of hope. You believe, correctly or not, that you will have control over the situation. Whether that hope is founded or unfounded (as some fates are sealed regardless of your choices) the player perceives this hope—it gives them the false sense that they can change the fate or outcome in an impossible situation. It is the difference between despair and dread. A glimmer of hope is almost worse in some cases, as it prolongs the unpleasant feelings a person has, but it draws a player into a world and narrative in a way that a movie might drive them away.
Then there’s the object of winning. For a horror movie, the closest thing to winning is being successfully frightened (or avoiding flinching despite the instinct). In a game, however, you have hope of reaching a goal. In the case of Until Dawn, it’s getting the characters to survive until [dawn] help can arrive. In Outlast, you’re trying to escape. In Gone Home, you have a story to unravel. Because failure doesn’t impede progress (unless you are lost), you are able to “win” Until Dawn, even if you kill all possible characters. As a narrative, this is incentivizing to a new player. If you killed a character you wanted to save, you feel the completeness of the credits, but you want to dive back in and replay. If you saved all the possible players, you feel that sense of accomplishment. Or perhaps you want to go back and see all the deaths. Either way, you have a mixture of closure connected to being able to complete the game, but the game does not stop being an interesting puzzle to play with. Not to mention the ability to add a social play aspect, bringing in others to experience the game with you. The very things that seasoned gamers find discouraging about Until Dawn are the things that make it accessible for new players and a treasure to replay.
It’s very interesting that you got into gaming through Until Down, and the discourse surrounding Until Dawn and other games that people dub “interactive fiction” isn’t exactly trying to be inclusive of people like you. I think what last week’s discussions has shown me is how gate-keeping the gaming community can be, and I found myself on the wrong side of the argument all of a sudden. I argued in class that any game without enough agency was more interactive narrative than a game, but now I feel different. I don’t think its helpful to categorize things as games or not in an effort to be elitist and defensive about videogame culture. I would rephrase how I approached the topic and say that “what I enjoy in games is: customization, theory crafting, strategizing, lots of possibilities to calculate, feel an sense of agency in the outcome” and admit that “I understand that those might not be why other people play games, and the lack of those elements does not render something less of a game, it just wouldn’t be my cup of tea”.