The lights dim in the theatre, and you settle back in your seat, tossing a few pieces of popcorn into your mouth for good measure. The movie is about to begin. But first...trailers. A slew of trailers keen to throw everything but the kitchen sink at you: noise, action, screams, explosions, teeth rattling bass drops, more action, smash cuts, actors staring wide-eyed at some vast monstrosity that couldn’t possibly be defeated (spoilers: it will). Come see, this movie, it roars in your face, you won’t see a bigger movie with bigger stakes than this. Until the next trailer declares the same, that is. Rinse and repeat. We’ve spoken about this before, in a couple of posts about “Stakes Creep”. The idea that, in order to inflate the sense of peril in a story, one has to up the ante for what is at stake if our heroes lose. What’s bigger than your protagonist losing a loved one? Well, how about their whole city being threatened by a calamity? And from there, where else to go but to the end of the world? Now, that is in of itself not a bad thing. As long as you remember that increased spectacle does not equal increased dramatic tension, that the true emotional connection your audience has is with the characters and not with the action around them, then it can work and work well. Trouble is, stories, movies especially, don’t exist in their own bubbles any more. The fight for your attention is fiercer than ever. People only have so many hours per day and only so much spare money to sink on their entertainment, and there seems to be an ever-increasing number of movies, games, books and TV shows out there. The battle for your eyes and ears is intense. This is in of itself not really a problem - better have too many options to have fun than too few - the issue is how most purveyors of big-ticket content will try to make themselves stand out amongst all the noise. That is, with more noise. And it’s not just movies that compete with one another, either. Even complementary stories exist within tension of one another. The idea of the “integrated universe” is bigger than ever, with the current ruler of roost being the MCU (aka. Marvel Cinematic Universe”. Before that, trilogies were the big thing. A trio of movies which saw growing stakes, growing peril for our heroes, the climax of each movie being bigger than the last. Some trilogies pulled this off successfully (The Lord of the Rings) while some didn’t (The Matrix, arguably). But at least you could say these trilogies got their endings. Whether the story could match the growing spectacle with deeper dramatic tension or not, at least a conclusion lay at the end of it. With the MCU, there is no such end in sight. An endless web of intertwined movies, characters and story threads. How can the story be sustainable? By definition, stories must have an arc, where conflict ratchets up, is resolved, and reaches a conclusion. How can each consecutive movie build upon the previous one in perpetuity, with no end in sight? After all, we can go all the way back to the first Avengers film to when we reached a spectacular peak: the threat of an alien invasion and, potentially, a nuclear bomb on New York. The bubble should have popped already. So how have Marvel managed to keep their stable of intertwined stories sustainable? How have they avoided “Stakes Creep” when it should have jumped the shark long ago? There’s a number of reasons: 1. The "Eras" For those of you who don’t know, the MCU is broken down into Eras, separated by the Avengers movies. If each movie is its own self-enclosed story while containing elements that nudge the wider, multi-movie arc along. That wider story arc reaches its climax in the Avengers movie, allowing just enough conflict that has been building up to be resolved and emerge into a new era having performed a semi-reset of sorts: most major characters are still here and the big MCU-wide themes and plot points remain, but individual arcs have evolved enough to enter their next stage. 2. The Stories are still Quite Separate Integration has become closer recently, but by and large the MCU movies are still their own enclosed story (if we count sequels to singular characters as one story, eg. Iron Man 2 and 3, Winter Soldier, Guardians 2 etc). The MCU can still keep the lid on rising stakes getting out of hand because each story bubbles away in its own pot. Well...it used to be that way. Recent outings such as Civil War and Infinity War, and to a lesser extent Ragnarok, are direct continations of the overarching story, and it’s no coincidence that these movies contain a lot more character combos. By drawing all of these stories together, it brings the focus onto the wider story which has been, among other things, Thanos and the infinity stones. This in turn develops and advances the major arc story, thus meaning the major story is going to draw to a conclusion pretty soon. This is in line with what many theorize, that the MCU will look pretty different after the next Avengers movie. Which makes sense: the infinity stone arc couldn’t go on forever. Not only will the make-up of characters in the MCU be different, expect to be introduced to a brand-new major plot arc post-Avengers: Endgame. 3. Marvel doesn't take itself too Seriously Ask yourself this question: which universe would you prefer to live in? The MCU, or the DCU, populated by Batman, Superman and the like? I imagine most people would say the MCU, because even though there is just as much danger and serious moments as any other fictional universe, at least the MCU looks fun to be in. There’s colour. There’s humour. Childlike wonder. Variety. The DCU is too po-faced and grim for its own good at times (though it has made recent changes to lighten up a bit). It’s this slightly lighter touch that gives the MCU its longevity. It recognizes that it is a comic-book, Sci-Fi-Fantasy universe, and it finds humour in the absurd moments. One of best examples of this was from Hawkeye in Age of Ultron: “The city is flying. We're fighting an army of robots. And I have a bow and arrow. None of this makes sense.” It’s this willingness to recognize its own silliness and laugh at itself that takes the heat off of the MCU stakes before they get too swollen, making it easier to keep it from getting out of hand. 4. The Novelty Factor of Character Combos Let’s face it: who didn’t get a thrill out of the first Avengers movie from the simple fact that it bought our heroes together? I expect that, for many like me, that was the main draw: seeing the Marvel characters interact, bicker and even fight. What would win: Cap’s shield, or Thor’s hammer? This movie was wish fulfillment of the highest order. The climactic battle was less about the resolution of the story and more about seeing them work as a team. It provided a certain endorphin rush. This helps to keep the stories from running away with themselves: these larger-than-life characters aren’t about to get swept away in an over-egged story when they’re the main draw. Again, it will be interesting to see how long this lasts. The thrill of seeing the Avengers assemble is wearing off. What will happen when nobody whoops at the sight of Spider-Man and Thor standing shoulder to shoulder? My guess is the focus will turn more into character and relationship development. We’re seeing hints of this in Iron Man and Captain America’s current falling-out. This is a healthy development: up until now, interactions between the Avengers have been pretty shallow. I expect the MCU at the end of 2019 to be less quippy, less noisy, and generally go deeper with its characters. Speaking of which... 5. The Main Conflict is Internal, not External One common criticism leveled at MCU movies is the lack of convincing villains (a big exception being Thanos). The bad guys are either overly simplistic, or no match for our heroes (Loki vs the whole Avengers team, for example). There’s also the issue of generic bad-guy-army fodder. Again, the alien swarm attacking New York was pretty forgettable, as were the creatures that attacked Wakanda in Infinity War. Make no mistake, stories without an effective antagonistic force are bloodless stories, simple as that. And yet, the MCU movies continue to enthrall and achieve critical acclaim ranging from decent to excellent. So what’s going on? How is the MCU getting away without having having a foil for our heroes? Well...they’re not. They do, in fact, have excellent antagonistic forces for our protagonists to bounce off. Except you won’t find them in the literal villain, but within. Yep, in most Marvel movies, the main battle our superhero fights is not the literal bad guy, but their own doubts, their own fears. We can go all the way back to the first Iron Man outing for a great example. While well received, many found Obadiah and the climactic battle with him to be too simplistic and underdeveloped. And on the surface, they’re right. But one has to look deeper to understand what’s really at play here, what Obadiah represents to Tony Stark’s character and it’s development. This is a man who is trying to move away from his weapons manufacturing past, while Obadiah is trying to pull him back into it. Obadiah isn’t so much an actual character as he is a devil on Tony’s shoulder, a caricature of his past and his doubts. Same goes for Ultron. If the villain isn’t necessarily a warped reflection of our heroes’ darker parts, they act as a device for our heroes to bounce off of and explore themselves. True, you could make an argument that the villains could be better developed, given more screen time etc. but in a way it’s actually a smart move. High-quality villains equals higher external stakes, which for a shared universe as extensive as the MCU would not be sustainable. After a few movies of increasingly competent and dangerous bad guys, we’d quickly run out of road and the spectacle would become overinflated. Internal conflict, however, is an almost endless well of potential. You can introduce further complications and crank up the tension without resorting to tiresome CGI-riddled battles. Two people arguing, or a character fighting with themselves, can be just as intense as a real fight. In short, you can heighten the dramatic tension without resorting spectacle, which has a limited shelf life. The MCU is a fascinating case study of the expanded universe, a fairly new concept to the world of cinema. It is impressive how deftly it has been handled so far to keep the enthusiasm high for such a high-volume output and avoid fatigue setting in. It will be fascinating to see how it continues to evolve and grow, especially after the conclusion of Endgame. The MCU and Thanos alike may have achieved perfect balance, but let’s see how long it will last.
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There are good games. There are great games. And then there are games that become part of our DNA, making such a powerful impact on us that it will become part of the fabric of who we are as a person. Hollow Knight is firmly in the latter, for a multitude of reasons - the incredible hand-drawn visuals, the stunning soundtrack, the impeccable gameplay - but for me the real star of the show has to the story. And for those who have only just embarked upon your Hollow Knight adventure, that may surprise you. What little story there is is pretty opaque and scattered across the haunted halls of Hallownest to be discovered in any particular order. Ah, but that is the beauty and genius of Hollow Knight’s approach to storytelling, and it’s a perfect match for games like this. When you begin the game, you’re treated to a cut scene of a mysterious figure hanging by chains in a dark room. Something orange bubbles up in their brain and they scream - whether in rage or in pain is unclear. We then cut to our protagonist walking through a moody bug village, looking out at a civilization on the distance, then leaping over a cliff. The game begins here, and that’s about as much spoon-fed story as you’re going to get for several hours. Yep, in a game that can easily fill 40 hours of your time, I think I can count on one hand the number of pre-rendered cutscenes, totaling no more than 5 minutes. This is not to say that the story Hollow Knight has to offer is sparse - on the contrary, it is as dense, nuanced and deep as the insect kingdom itself - but it will not reveal itself in a structured, curated manner. There is no “walk to point A, watch cutscene One, proceed to point B” hand-holding here. Like an excavation site, the secrets and revelations are all there, but they won’t piece themselves together for you. Like a jigsaw puzzle, it is down to you to piece together the tidbits of information and decipher the clues to build a picture of what exactly happened here in Hallownest. And it’s all done very organically. NPCs or stone tablets won’t infodump on you, and rarely tell you where you need to go or what to do next. The closest you get to this is the Elderbug as you arrive in your first settlement, Dirtmouth. He comments that most people head down the well. That’s about as explicit as it gets. And that makes sense on both fronts: why would an NPC want to tell you where to go? They’re looking out for their own interest after all. And as Hallownest is an open world free to be explored in any order, one cannot point players down a prescribed path via NPCs talking in case the player has already been there. It serves to give Hollow Knight this very organic feel, of a world that existed long before you, will exist after you’re gone, and is full of characters who don’t just stand around waiting just for you. or me this effectively solves the age-old tension in gaming between story and gameplay. Too often it is regarded as a zero-sum game, where too much of one results in less of the other. A story heavy game is seen as being on the rails, pushing players down a path in order to maintain the pacing and rising tension a good story requires. But lean too much on the gameplay side, and story is sidelined, seen as disrupting the flow and sense of freedom and satisfaction a good gameplay ecosystem affords. Not in Hollow Knight’s case. Somehow, it gives you the best of both worlds while appearing effortless in doing so. Hallownest, on the surface, is presented as a pure gameplay challenge: tough bosses, precision platforming and tests of endurance. You could happily play through the entire game without a second thought for the narrative that surrounds it and still have a great time. You may not have a clue what’s going on, but the challenge laid out before you is more than enough reason for some to play on and overcome. But, look a little closer, read the inscriptions you pass and read between the lines of those you encounter, and you will form this rich tapestry that forms the background of Hollow Knight. In other large scale games, the story is integral to your enjoyment of the game. Skip a cutscene or zone out while a character is talking, and you lessen your understanding of the narrative, and therefore your enjoyment of the game as a whole. In Hollow Knight, it is an enhancing extra. Game comes first. For those who are here only for that, they will have a blast and will not be hindered by a cumbersome plot. For those that are here for the story, it will enhance their experience without it bogging the gameplay down. It seems that Hollow Knight has cracked the code: we have, at last, achieved perfect balance. Thanos would be proud. Now, as we’re a story-focused outfit here at PJL, let’s take a closer look as to how the story functions. As it is an unobtrusive narrative that inhabits Hollow Knight, it doesn’t ever leap to the forefront and infodump - even when it could get away with it. The story is fed via indirect means, told through the art direction, the music, the flavour-text scrawled on crumbling monuments...nothing is wasted. In keeping the gameplay front and center, Team Cherry fill the cracks in between with as much world-building as they can. Even the typical tropes you associate with games like this can be attributed to the story and the world it inhabits. You see, Hollow Knight is what we call a “Metroidvania”: a genre of games known for their labyrinthine maps, unlockable upgrades that allow access to deeper areas of the world, and a general emphasis on exploration. You what is naturally labyrinthine? An insect nest. Hallownest is a perfect fit for the genre. Even the protagonist himself has lore and meaning sleeping out him, just by his mere existence. While the Knight may appear to be your typical silent protagonist with no personality so the player can project themselves onto him, it is actually a key component of the story. Without spoiling anything, there is a reason the Knight is silent and personality-free. Again, you don’t need to understand the reasons why to enjoy the game, and even when the reason is revealed to you, you don’t need to let it colour your enjoyment of the game unless you want it to, such is the take-it-or-leave-it nature of the story at play here. But regardless, this is a prime example of how Team Cherry, in their realization of the world of Hollow Knight, left nothing on the table. They took even the cliches of gaming and owned them, turning them into something meaningful and fitting. No vessel is left empty. Now, for those of you who have completed the game and exhaustively scraped at every nook and cranny of Hallownest, from the summit of Crystal Peak to the depths of The Abyss, you may still feel unclear as to what exactly happened in Hollow Knight, not just the events that led up to the beginning of the game, but also what happens in the game itself. As mentioned previously, even if you are actively in this for the plot and lore, it will not reveal itself to you in a straightforward manner. As there is no prescribed order to play the game, there is no clear linear path to unpack the story, and you need to piece it together out of order. Even then, Hollow Knight doesn’t give it to you straight. Characters and engravings talk use dense, deep language that reference other things or places that you may not fully understand. What few cutscenes there are are tipped heavily toward “Show” on the “show don’t tell” scale, which is fine - great, even - but not helpful if you have no story foundation upon which to reference what you’re seeing. And even if you were some sort of high-functioning genius who could perfectly decipher everything Hollow Knight offers, you would still find gaps in the story, ambiguities, even supposed contradictions. This could (and likely will be) another article for another time, but essentially this all comes down allowing space for interpretation. The idea that gaps are deliberately left in the story where the audience is invited to draw their own conclusions. Done well, it can be an effective way to give the audience a sense of involvement, interactivity and ownership over the story, make it linger in the mind of the audience, and invite lively discussion and debate over what different conclusions people drew. Done badly, it is just lazy, plot-hole-ridden storytelling. It can be difficult to ascertain one for the other, unless the invitation to interpret it yourself is blatant (see the ending of “Inception” as an example of this). Is this hazy, vague narrative actually deliberately difficult to understand, or is it just neglect, plain and simple? It can be difficult to decide where to draw the line between the two, if there is a line. Certainly, it is a balancing act, and it a balance which I believe Hollow Knight absolutely nails. The story may be a little fuzzy around the edges, but the main broad strokes are clear. The basic facts are agreed upon, while it is the finer details of the story that are debated. This for me, is the key litmus test for quality, deliberate ambiguity: sharing ideas and theories about what the gaps could be filled with should be fun. It should be interesting exercise to enhance your love of something, rather than a chore where you feel like you’re doing the legwork that really should have been done by the creators. Again, looking at the ending of Inception as an example, people have different theories as to what it means, whether we are still in a dream state or not. And while it is a major thread left hanging that calls into question everything that we’ve just seen, talking about what you think it means is fun. As a bad example, think about the TV show Lost. While I haven’t seen it myself, the show has become synonymous for vague, unfinished ideas. The infamous mysterious numbers, for example. Were these ever explained? Never officially. Oh sure, you could probably scour the internet and find some explanation, devised by someone who had to perform mental gymnastics to stitch all the disparate pieces together - and that fails my test. You have to do work to make it all fit cohesively, work that really should have been done by the creators. With that, you can see that Hollow Knight is firmly in the former camp. Some people dislike any and all ambiguity in their stories and may want everything set out clearly for them, but that is not a fair test for quality, only a personal preference, and that is not what Hollow Knight sets out to do. It would not fit the mood or atmosphere of Hollow Knight to have a clear, linear progression through the story. Hollow Knight champions exploration and deciding your own path and how much or little of the story you invest in. Hand-holding through a linear path would jeopardise that.
As a gamer since the tender age of six, Hollow Knight delighted me, but as a storyteller, Hollow Knight inspired me. Quite how a game made by a team of three people gets so many things right - and not just in a small-team-done-well kind of way, but in a genuine best-I’ve-ever-seen kind of way - is not just amazing, but also reassuring. For the seeming dominance that large studios seem to have over the stories we consume nowadays, it is good to know that three people with skills and ideas can band together and raise the bar in several criteria. The Knight may be Hollow, but it has breathed new life and new possibilities into what stories in games can be. |
Off the ShelfHere I share my ideas, musings and advice on the writing process. I also analyse some of my own writing for examples to show how I work. ShowcaseHere I will show off of some of my favorite good and great stories, gushing lovingly over why I adore them and why you should too. I will also show you the other side of the spectrum: bad examples of stories and what we can learn from them.
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