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jgvw 12 (1) pp. 91–103 Intellect Limited 2020 Journal of Gaming & Virtual World

jgvw 12 (1) pp. 91–103 Intellect Limited 2020 Journal of Gaming & Virtual Worlds Volume 12 Number 1 © 2020 Intellect Ltd Article. English language. https://doi.org/10.1386/jgvw_00006_1 www.intellectbooks.com 91 Received 1 September 2019; Accepted 15 November 2019 ABSTRACT This article pursues a deep dive into various enigmas presented by Davey Wreden's second effort, The Beginner's Guide (2015), moving beyond the vexed question of whether the work can count as a game to the perhaps more interest- ing subject of how the work intervenes in game culture and what it says about the nature of game poetics. The ultimate focus is on the structure of the game, espe- cially in its adoption of a logic of coda, to which the article relates the Derridean notion of supplement. Procedural and computational games are, perhaps, inherently mysterious. In his study of interactive fiction, Nick Montfort affiliates that form with the ancient poetic tradition of the riddle (Montfort 2003: 4). We might general- ize Montfort’s insight to any game that simulates an explorable domain. Such games pose ontological questions: What is this world in which I find myself? Why is it the way it is? What do my interactions reveal? Maybe all world-games are basically riddles; some more direct than others in the way they frame their enigmas. In his two major efforts so far, Davey Wreden has a way of putting his puzzles up front. The Stanley Parable (2011) begs the question, parable of KEYWORDS narrative walking simulator literature film Wreden poetics STUART MOULTHROP University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee ‘Turn back from this cave’: The weirdness of Beginner’s Guide Stuart Moulthrop 92 Journal of Gaming & Virtual Worlds what? Similarly, in coming to The Beginner’s Guide (2015) we might ask, guide to what practice, activity or way of being? Just what are we beginning? Many players of The Stanley Parable come away with plausible answers: the game is about free will and its frustrations; it explores the tension between programmatic structure and play or desire. These are not necessar- ily the best answers, but they are reasonably related to the experience of the game. Beginner’s Guide, by contrast, is harder to fix in a phrase. Most imme- diately it appears to be about a broken friendship, though this core fiction looks suspiciously like parable or metaphor. On a deeper level the work addresses the ethics of expression and interpretation, and perhaps the reasons for making game-based art. To borrow somewhat loosely from Stephanie Boluk and Patrick Lemieux, we might see both Stanley and Beginner’s Guide as metagames, attempts to play with received conventions and assumptions of computer games (Boluk and Lemieux 2017: 2). These works invite us, as Bo Ruberg, Jack Halberstam and Anna Anthropy would say, to play otherwise (Ruberg 2019: 19). Playing-otherwise is an indispensable endeavour but it can bring aesthetic risk. As another theorist of play observes, ‘if you play with a simulation, it becomes a game; if you play with a game it becomes just play’ (Myers 2010: 26). Leaving aside the question of what David Myers or anyone else might mean by ‘just play’, we can ask if this transformation takes us out of the domain of games. Is Beginner’s Guide a game at all? This question is itself hazardous in a polemical or political sense, because it gestures towards the poisonous, ongoing culture war over gaming, including attempts to exclude non-violent, narratively intensive games (often featuring perspectives of subaltern and minority people) from a mainstream devoted mainly to contest and domination. The history and stakes of this controversy have been recently explored by Mia Consalvo and Christopher Paul (Consalvo and Paul 2019) and their discussion should stand as a caution to any exclu- sionary moves. This article, which has branched off from a larger study of the decidedly non-mainstream Twine platform, understands the identity of games generously in a cultural sense. However, though necessarily linked, ques- tions of form and questions of culture are not isomorphic, and on a formal basis it may be necessary to mark out boundaries in order to explore aesthetic transgressions. It is hard to imagine a game more transgressive than Beginner’s Guide. Consalvo and Paul frame two basic questions that might guide our approach to its divagations: ‘[w]hat makes a game a game? And what can be stripped out and have a game genre still retain its status as real?’ (Consalvo and Paul 2019: 110). Though this article ultimately bears on both questions, the second is most salient for Beginner’s Guide, which in many ways constitutes a careful reduction or stripping-out of adventure-game conventions, and which seems to be doing something very interesting with game genres, either inflecting the walking-simulator or perhaps inaugurating its own generic region of video/ game space. Of course, the other way to avoid mentioning the (culture) war is to concede that Beginner’s Guide is indeed a game. The product is sold on Steam as a game, it has been reviewed as a game, and like Stanley Parable its playable spaces are assembled from components accessible through the Source game engine. It seems to belong at least nominally to three divisions of the game universe: independent games, B-games and walking simulators. These last, as Melissa Kagen points out, are marked by their deliberate restriction of agency (Kagen 2018b), but Beginner’s Guide takes this feature to an extreme. Action ‘Turn back from this cave’ www.intellectbooks.com 93 in the game is so railed-in that it approaches not free play but its opposite, recorded video. As in Stanley Parable there is voice-over narration keyed to our progress through each level. The plummy, BBC-style announcer of the earlier game is replaced by Wreden speaking as ‘Davey’, a character we are invited to identify with Wreden himself. Davey guides us through sixteen chapters, discrete levels ostensibly created by a shadowy figure called ‘Coda’ between October 2008 and June 2011. There is also an Epilogue whose status and origins are harder to explain, though that mystery is very important. This article considers Davey and Coda fictional constructs, thus implicitly metaphorical – though what they represent is open to question.1 The dates of Coda’s efforts align neatly with the creative history of The Stanley Parable, so some self-reference seems inevitable. Read in this way, Beginner’s Guide looks like psychomachia, the struggle between halves of a divided self. At the same time, the work’s slipperiness and complexity defy reduction to any simple formula. Is it a collection of ‘weird and experimental’ game levels, as Davey calls them, or a unified production? What is the nature of its supposed unity? How should we characterize this effort: is it a game or a theatre piece, a game- flavoured monologue? Maybe Beginner’s Guide is more video than game, a game collapsed into its own playthrough. Beginner’s Guide has important resemblances to machinima, game-derived linear video, but it also departs from that form. As Davey reminds us in Chapter 7 (‘Down’), the work was built on a game engine. It is not delivered in a video format but as playable download on Steam. Player action is allowed and often required. In Chapter 1 (‘Whisper’), we are told we can exit the game by stepping into an energy beam. As in The Stanley Parable, we can refuse the narrator’s suggestion – the beam will kill our player character – but unlike in Stanley, refusal has no interesting consequences; we just linger in a level we have already explored. In Chapter 4 (‘Stairs’), we are asked to press Enter to remove a speed limit that prevents us from quickly climbing a set of stairs. We can withhold the action, remaining in agonizingly slow ascent, or join in Davey’s subversion of the original rules. These moments are paradigmatic: the system allows us to act, but only in ways that move us to predetermined waypoints, often violating an insanely dilatory or obstructive design. If Beginner’s Guide is a game it is arguably a queer one in the most general sense, an exploration of unconventional or unsanctioned forms of play. Whoever or whatever he may be, Coda is less game designer than concep- tual artist. His levels carry absurd subtitles like ‘The Streetwise Fool’, ‘Pornstars Die Too’ and ‘Items You Love at Members-Only Prices’. Coda appears to be a latter-day surrealist. His games subvert rational thought, offering instead the inconsistent, associative flow of dreams. Many of the chapters feel like tran- scriptions of recurring nightmares: facing an audience across the footlights, or a lecture hall whose fourth wall is a devouring black hole, or a house with an endless cycle of cleaning chores (your nightmares may vary; all of the above are on this author’s list). As the tour goes on, a specific spectre asserts itself. Images of prisons, literal and symbolic, occur with increasing frequency. There is also a sense in which Beginner’s Guide is thematically queer, or at least homo-(anti)social. It is after all about the intense and ultimately toxic affection of one man for another. No sexual relationship is implied and there is no compelling uploads/Litterature/ the-weirdness-of-beginner-x27-s-guide.pdf