An Illusionist's Toolbox

 

Agency in Interactive Fiction

We talk about agency a lot as writers, especially in the realm of interactive fiction, but it's important to remember that what we're truly producing for players isn't real agency. The agency that players and readers experience is an illusion; it's not really there. But in that illusion we find the art - the craft - of balancing the player’s freedom against our own sanity as writers.

I've spoken about this before, but given that I've disappeared as a writer from this space for quite some time, and given that my work on The Black Hare has me further exploring this concept, I thought I'd have another crack at it.

Why are we interested in agency at all?

An interactive fiction without any agency is a novel. In short, it defeats the point of having an interactive fiction, because without agency - the reader's/player's ability to make choices that somehow impact the way they experience the story - then really it's just one set, non-interactive text. The story only ever goes one way, regardless, and the experience is only ever one kind of experience. Given that players/readers who seek out interactive fiction usually do so because they desire that agency, let's talk about what that actually translates into in your I.F.

The Mirage of Surface-Level Choices

Surface-level choices (sometimes called false choices) can create an experience where the player thinks that they're making choices that will have some impact, but they don't really - not beyond customization of the player character's looks/personality and perhaps that of others. This is a perfectly valid I.F. approach; all some readers are looking for is a fun I.F. story where they get to make their character in their image, and that's fine. But there are a lot of players who would also like to see that the choices they make do lead them down diverging story paths, that those choices do have consequences that their character has to deal with later on in the story.

The choices that do actually do that are consequential or meaningful choices. These choices can keep readers/players intrigued and invested. Knowing that there are other routes to take and avenues to go down in the story, the player may even decide to replay the story several times in an attempt to find all of the different endings.

Surface-level choices are fun to include in the I.F.; they add flavour and a personal touch. They're also less work. If you have surface-level choices only in your IF, then the story goes in a pre-set direction (or limited set of directions) that allows you to reduce scope crawl for your game and make something ultimately more manageable as a writer. Instead of writing 2-3 branches that diverge into a set of 24 possible endings, you can write 1-3 branches that diverge into a set of 3-5 possible endings. All the while, what you've written is laden with call-backs to surface level choices that the player made throughout the story (ex: He points the gun at you, and you close your green eyes. This calls back to the choice the player made where they decided their character has green eyes. It adds a personalized touch, proving that the game does remember what you chose and who you are specifically, but it doesn't change the fact that he's pointing the gun at you, and no choice that you ever made previously could have changed that, either. At least, not in this example.)

At times, the "surface-level" choices can also include relationship meters - who you choose to fall in love with, who you choose to make an enemy, and so on - that also don't do anything to change the story's direction, either. Perhaps they add another paragraph to the ending, showing that you ended up with the character you chose to romance, or that you somehow got your revenge on that one character you butted heads with. The core plot remains the same, however.

There's a sense of predestination to an I.F. that deals mainly in surface-level choices. It's a fatalistic experience that, to me, seems to work best when the story leads to a bittersweet, tragic, or mysterious end. But that's strictly my personal opinion.

All of that said, however, you'll see in the next section why it's so important to have surface-level choices, because meaningful choices alone cannot a successful I.F. make. Thus, our job as illusionists becomes inherent to the genre, and our true challenge is found in the balance.

The Weight of Meaningful Choices

Meaningful choices will be a lot more work. When you include meaningful choices in your I.F., you recognize that those choices will have significant consequences on the game's plot. Meaningful choices are usually the choices your player makes that result in a branching out of the story, in the unlocking/barring of specific routes, and in the summary of the ending as a whole (what will and won't be included, as it relates to the core plot). They may even lead to completely separate and different scenarios. But knowing this, it means that every time you put a meaningful choice in your game, there's a lot of writing that goes along with it. If a meaningful choice leads to another branch in your narrative, then that's a whole new branch you need to write. It's a lot more work than simply continuing on the same path and sprinkling call-backs to choices the player made earlier on.

And speaking of those surface-level choice examples I provided earlier, they don't necessarily have to be surface-level. Your I.F. could include a world where a character who has brown hair is rare, and in some areas of your game, perhaps even demonized by certain social groups. This could have an actual impact on your gameplay and the story itself. It could force the story onto a route that the player would then have to navigate. The same kind of thing can be attributed to different cosmetic choices, and you can also have personality choices that also affect the way the story reacts to your player.

For example, in The Black Hare, I've included three core personality traits and three background options, each of which comes with a set of three unique skills. That's a total of 6 unique skills your character can have. A character with one skill may be able to get to a location that another character without that skill can't. A character who has a certain personality trait may not be able to get information out of an NPC that other characters without that personality trait could. These can have resounding effects on the story your player experiences. Instead of getting that information from an NPC, for example, they may have to use their skills to get that same information by entering a location only they could enter.

The balance here is important. When you're dealing with "unique" meaningful choices that apply to specific traits a reader/player has chosen for themselves, you have to keep in mind that they aren't "generalized" meaningful choices - as in, you have to ensure that each character, with any combination of traits, can get through different stages of your story even if they can't all use the same approach to do so. And yes - that's also much more work, and a heck of a lot more writing.

It's why most I.F. writers disguise surface-level choices as true agency in the game. While it may not change the storyline, it gives readers/players a reason to interact with the I.F., keeping them engaged until the next meaningful choice comes along. If an I.F. only had meaningful choices, the reader would come across perhaps five choices in their whole game. More than that would probably destroy a solo I.F. writer's sanity. But that would also mean that the player/reader, who came to the I.F. seeking agency, would only find it once every 20 or so passages, if that. Again: balance is key.

The Tangibility of Mechanical Choices

There's a third secret kind of agency. Okay, so it's not a secret, but I left it until last for a reason. Not all writers of I.F.s include many game systems or mechanics in their games, but those who do would benefit from knowing about mechanical choices, easily the most concrete and least illusory of the lot.

Mechanical choices are choices you make that change the "math" of the game's systems. Choices like deciding to buy a bagel, deciding to work an extra shift, or deciding to store/remove something in your inventory. These can have impacts on the plot - at times you're locked out of progressing in the story if you don't have an item or enough money. But they don't have an impact on the branching of the narrative itself. A single bagel doesn't change the destiny of the world, but the habit of buying that bagel contributes to the flavor of the player's experience in your game.

These choices are only there to manage the mechanics and system of the game, and in some cases, to make sure players can't get through the game in ten minutes flat.

Mechanical choices can be linked to surface-level choices. For example, in my I.F. The Black Hare, you can choose to keep every single document you come across in the game in your Journal. But do you need every single document in the game? No. Most of them are irrelevant. Do you know which are relevant and which aren't? Not at first, but you can identify that later. You can get rid of all of the irrelevant ones as you go along. Does that mean that you will? Maybe not. Maybe you decide to keep every single document and clipping and letter because your character is a hoarder. That's a surface-level choice - it changes nothing about the story itself or the branches of it, just your personal approach to the game.

Mechanical choices are also linked to what are called operational choices, which is just how you decide to manage your resources; your own strategic approach. I put it all under the term "mechanical choices", but there are times when perhaps making that differentiation is important, so I leave this note here just in case.

A Return to the Why

In a novel, what awaits the reader is inevitable. Nothing they do will change what is to come. In an I.F., that which awaits them - whether it is disaster or success - is earned. Whether through a meaningful branch or a mechanical failure to manage resources, the player must feel that the 'Game Over' screen was a consequence of their own hand - and yes, we definitely should include what are called "bad endings" or "game over" scenarios. Agency in the game, much like in our real world, should provide the opportunity of failure. While failure is not always fun in the real world, in the illusions of our fictions, it becomes a valid and entertaining possibility, because right around the corner, a do-over is always there. That is the true philosophy of agency: not just the power to win, but the permission to fail.

And shrouding it all - that mirage that we work so hard to create, founded on the fragile balance of choices that lead, inevitably, to the destinations we have already built for them.