Beyond Auteurs: Do Video Games Need Visionaries Part 3

Part 3: Conclusion

This is the third installment of a series, so if you missed parts 1 and 2, you might want to go check those out.

Welcome back! So far we’ve established that the auteur theory posits that a single visionary drives the artistic success of and takes the credit (e.g. answers) for a work. We’ve also decided that Cage is not the auteur in shining armor the gaming industry’s been waiting for. But that begs the question: if not Cage, then who?

We might first look at indie developers, whose small studios allow them to become more well-known names in the industry. For me, the person who immediately comes to my mind is Phil Fish, one of the developers of Fez and the man you either know from a) Indie Game: The Movie, b) that Innuendo Studios short, or c) haters on the internet.

credit: Flickr user Jeriaska

source: Flickr user Jeriaska

Phil Fish is not the only person who worked on the game Fez. Shawn McGrath brought the initial idea to the table but left the project because of a conflict of vision, after which Renaud Bédard came on as a programmer for the game. Yet only Fish gained a notable level of celebrity from the project itself, the documentary coverage, and his own unflinching outspokenness.

If you’re readying your typing fingers to let me know that Fish is self-centered, overly critical, or a huge douche, never fear–I am definitely aware of his reputation. I would argue, however, that the likability of a developer should not factor into whether or not they play the auteur role. Instead we might look at how developer-player interaction, or more specifically how gamers’ perceived ownership over things they play, affects the development and artistic direction of games.

When we watch a film, even if we’re thinking critically about the costuming or the performance of the actors, going to a movie is a mostly passive experience, an opportunity to ‘veg out.’ When you play a video game, on the other hand, even the most repetitive tasks you’ve done a thousand times before require some level of engagement (as anyone who has tried to eat their dinner while playing can attest).

source: This is Chris

source: This is Chris

What sets gaming apart as a creative medium is its interactivity. Cage’s ideal of a story-based, innovative work can apply to anything from a song to a poem to a comic, but in order for something to be considered a game most agree it should involve some level of player agency, which comes with a necessary feeling of connection to and power over the story.

Consequently, when a developer’s vision or persona deviates from player expectations, players react differently than movie-goers or music fans might. In fact, sometimes that feeling of ownership fosters entitlement that can manifest in not just hurtful but also dangerous ways: for better or for worse, Phil Fish is no longer in the industry.

And sometimes, as seems to be the case with Half-Life 3, developers’ fear of player reactions prevents pieces of art from ever making it to market. (For the record, I don’t think that means we should stop being critical of games or lower our standards, although we may need to rethink the way we convey those criticisms to those who create and produce the games.)

So is expecting a single person to answer for the entirety of a game, especially one much larger than Fez like Half-Life or Mass Effect, beneficial or even reasonable? Games are traditionally made by studios, teams of people working together on project after project. This differs from films, which are similarly made by crews, but by crew members who then go their separate ways after the release.

Yet studios themselves grow and change, shifting workers from one project to another, sometimes giving away projects altogether; Call of Duty has moved studios three times since its inception, while 13 different studios have contributed content to Halo games over the past 15 years. While many are known for certain types of games, few have a singular style as distinct as the ‘auteurs’ of old. And I wouldn’t say that’s a bad thing.

source: Halo Waypoint

source: Halo Waypoint

Cage has said in a lecture for the British Academy of Film and Television Arts that he looks forward to the day when game designers can use camera algorithms to mimic the cinematic styles of Scorsese or Tarantino, capturing emotion in a way that he feels is superior to the traditional perspectives of game cameras. But simply imitating the shots of a famous director does not create a meaningful story.

Beyond that, game developers do not have sole or even primary control of the camera. That tends to belong to the player in most games, and players can shape the story in other ways too, from character creation to dialogue choice to world building in games like Minecraft. Yet players certainly wouldn’t be given credit for the music in the Elder Scrolls games or the art direction of Life is Strange.

Which makes me think that we’re asking the wrong questions about games. With roots in interactive fiction, tabletop, and many many other forms of media, video games resist the categorization that film criticism can offer. They do not need auteurs to achieve artistry, and our efforts to transplant film theory onto game analysis is neither as simple nor as productive as many, Cage included, seem to think.

As a form of art, games are academically and critically under-examined, but that’s part of what makes them so exciting. The industry is rapidly changing and the potential for creativity between player, actor, designer, programmer, etc. is huge. And as games continue to evolve, this potential for growth and innovation extends to game criticism, journalism, and analysis.

Thanks for reading! Where do you think gaming, and game analysis, is headed? Do you believe auteur theory holds up? Let me know what you think in the comments. 

Advertisements

Beyond Auteurs: Do Video Games Need Visionaries Part 1

WARNING: as usual I’m spoiling all the things. This time it’s the game Beyond Two Souls.

Part 1: Introduction

While I’ve had my Xbox 360 for going on six years now, I only recently gained access to a PS3, which means I’m catching up on a few older games, including Beyond Two Souls. I’d never played a game by writer and developer David Cage before, and didn’t know exactly what to expect going in. In fact, even after finishing it I wasn’t sure how I felt about it, so I did what I usually do in that situation: I started reading.

During my research on the game, I kept coming across this particular term: auteur. The auteur theory came out of the French film review magazine Cahiers du Cinéma and essentially says that, while many people work on a movie before it hits theaters, an artful film has a single coherent style/bears the signature of a single visionary, in this case the director. A few names are consistently associated with the auteur label, including Hitchcock, Kubrick, and Renoir.

source: wikipedia

As video games have gained legitimacy as both a form of entertainment and an art form, game criticism has grown as well. Predictably, critics have attempted to use existing frameworks from film and literary criticism to analyze games. In particular, some people believe the gaming industry needs auteurs to be taken seriously, and for better or for worse David Cage’s name has been thrown in the ring.

I am not sure that I believe David Cage is an auteur, or that games need auteurs to survive, so I decided to use my experience with the game to try to parse that out. This first post will be an introduction for those who aren’t familiar with the game.

Beyond Two Souls (BTS) is an interactive drama game from Quantic Dream, the French studio that produced Cage’s previous games Heavy Rain, Indigo Prophecy, and Omikron: The Nomad Soul. In BTS you play as Jodie, a young woman who has had another soul named Aiden tethered to hers ever since she was born. As you might imagine, this catches the interest of many, including the CIA.

The game begins with narration from Jodie, who says she’s trying to patch together the past 15 years of her life, which the player then relives in non-chronological order, playing as both Jodie and Aiden in single-player mode or as one or the other in cooperative mode. Combat and navigation are handled through the joysticks, while puzzles and other action sequences require some button and trigger mashing.

Despite fairly straightforward controls, the mechanics and objectives in a chapter aren’t always intuitive, and the Quick Time Events (QTEs) can get repetitive. Playing as Aiden gives you fewer restrictions mobility wise, but feels more disorienting than empowering. Cutscenes are interspersed between periods of gameplay, but the game moves forward without indicating whether your actions influenced each plot event (spoiler alert: they probably did not).

The game received mixed reviews, with a metacritic score of 70, and was equally if not more divisive among fans, many of whom either love or loathe the game. The dialogue around BTS in gaming communities tends to be both passionate and polarized, as the die-hard fans accuse others of not understanding the game due to their shooter-addled brains, while the haters declare their disgust of all things Cage.

Which brings us to the question I’ll attempt to answer in part 2: who is Cage and how well does he fill the role of ‘auteur’? Thanks for reading! And for patiently waiting for these longer-form series to percolate.

Check out parts 2 and 3 now!

Panoptic Icon: Thematic Analysis of Remember Me

WARNING: this analysis contains plot details, including spoilers for the end of the game.

As I mentioned a few weeks ago, I’ve been going back to older games recently, and one of those is Remember Me. Remember Me is set in Neo-Paris, allowing the developers to create a rich futuristic dystopia rooted in existing history. One of their most interesting choices is setting the majority of the game’s action inside a prison, in this case La Bastille. La Bastille is located where the original Bastille–a fortress later converted into a prison–once stood. Louis XIV imprisoned upper-class French citizens who opposed him in Bastille until it was stormed during the French Revolution.

source: Wikipedia

source: Wikipedia

The real Bastille was used to support the state in censoring printed media and controlling social norms. In Neo-Paris, La Bastille is where memory hunters are kept, leapers are created and controlled, and prisoners’ memories are stored. Instead of confiscating prisoners’ belongings as they’re processed, Madame and Dr. Quaid wipe prisoners’ memories to keep them complacent and take the memories for themselves, implanting Quaid’s memories in exchange.

source: IGN

source: IGN

The prison uses a panopticon structure, which the French philosopher Foucault uses in his theories about disciplinary/authoritarian societies. A panopticon is a tower that allows a guard to see all the cells in a prison, but does not allow prisoners to see whether the guard is there or not. Foucault used the physical structure as an analogy for the mutual enforcement of social norms even when we can’t know whether someone is ‘watching.’

In the game, the use of Sensen technology and the commodification of memory is commonly accepted by citizens. No person owns their own experiences, and all people are watched by robots, security cameras, and other surveillance technology. Madame, governor of La Bastille, watches over the prison from the central tower and protects the memory servers until Nilin defeats her.

In Episode 4: Panoptic Icon, Nilin pursues Madame. In order to locate her, Nilin enters the prison through the sewers and confronts Sergeant Vaughn–the Sergeant of La Bastille S.A.B.R.E. Force–to obtain the schematics. This episode is brimming with platforming, combat, and collectibles, but it also does some pretty interesting things symbolically. As the child of the memory-control empire who doesn’t remember her own history, Nilin stands in for each of us who is born into society and inherits its norms.

Rarely are we forced to question where these beliefs come from, but in order to succeed Nilin has to. She has to look at the inner-workings of this prison and to engage with both the guards and Madame herself. In the panopticon of La Bastille, Madame represents not just policemen and prison wardens, but also our teachers, relatives, and even our own inner voices who hold us to social norms and punish us when we stray from them.

source: Flickr user JP Freethinker

source: Flickr user JP Freethinker

What elevates this symbolism is the fact that it is the shared pain and memories of society that starts Nillin on this path. Edge, the persona created by the central memory server AI H3O, urges Nilin to explore, subvert, and eventually destroy the system Memorize (and her own family) has created. The soul of humanity itself asks the player to question our own beliefs, to see how even well-intentioned efforts to eradicate sadness can become commercialized and oppressive.

I was drawn to both of Dontnod Entertainment’s currently released games, Life is Strange and Remember Me, without realizing they were made by the same studio, in part because of their use of symbolism and social commentary. Their games are nuanced and it’s clear the developers are fellow television, film, and game lovers, as evidenced by the abundance of allusions in each of their IPs.

source: Dontnod

source: Dontnod

More importantly, they never spell it out for you, because Dontnod trusts players to handle depth and complexity. That is such a rare thing in pop culture, and it’s something I really appreciate. I can’t wait to see what else comes out of their studio. What do you guys think of Remember Me? Are you excited for Vampyr and episode 5 of Life is Strange? Let me know in the comments!

On Ian Danskin’s Theory Part 2: Where Do We Go From Here?

On Wednesday I talked about the first three videos in Innuendo Studios’ six-part series Why Are You So Angry?, which explores where online harassment and movements like Gamergate come from. The last three videos touch on how we can try to reframe our own thinking about morality and social justice.

It can feel overwhelming to imagine solutions to issues as big as these, but keeping some simple things in mind helps. As Danskin and Sarkeesian (and I and many others state): consuming problematic media doesn’t make us bad. Creating it doesn’t make us bad. Even becoming an AJ doesn’t make us irrevocably bad. We always have the power to change our beliefs and our behaviors, or to reconsider how they affect us and others.

By change I don’t mean stop playing your favorite video games or stop eating meat or stop existing as a privileged person. Simply acknowledging that the things we say, do, and enjoy are affected by society and have the capacity to reflect social problems/affect others is an important step that validates oppressed group’s experiences..

anita quote

Of course this can’t totally solve the problem. We can’t control another person’s choices, or force them to confront their own privilege. But we can control our own behaviors and hold others accountable for theirs.

So what can we ‘privileged few’ do to deal with our discomfort and make healthy choices for ourselves and others? What can we do to make it clear that harassment is not okay and that AJs are not welcome in our community?

Danskin still isn’t 100% sure on this, and I’d say most people are in the same boat. But through a conversation with the experts – women affected by GG like Zoe Quinn and Lindsay Ellis – and his own rumination, he came up with some tentative suggestions which I have expanded upon to create my own (incomplete) list:

First of all, we can try to stop thinking in absolutes. Binarism makes the world easier, especially for people with privilege.I think Danskin is right that puritanical and binary thinking are Western concepts, and not just that, but colonial concepts used to empower some while oppressing others. If everything is cut and dry, one or the other, we get out of grappling with nuance and the feelings it brings up in us.

source: Yael Megery - Pikiwiki Israel

source: Yael Megery – Pikiwiki Israel

Second, we can try to look at the big picture, which means beyond ourselves. This is hard, because being selfish allows humans to survive. Some would argue that it is the natural and primary instinct, and that humans do not do anything without some kind of personal benefit. With that argument, I wholeheartedly disagree, but that is another post for another blog. When I say look at the big picture, I mean examine how media and social norms shape our current beliefs and, when making a choice about our actions or attitudes, ask how it affects other people who don’t have our privileges?

Along these lines, we can practice compassion towards ourselves. Much of the anger and hatred and violence turned towards cultural critics or so-called SJWs – especially female, trans, disabled, queer, and black and brown folks from those categories – comes from a sense of entitlement we get from society, but another chunk of it is a deflection of the anger or disappointment we feel towards ourselves for not being what we define as ‘good,’ for not seeing our own privilege or having it at all.

If we allow ourselves to be flawed human beings who sometimes make bad choices or miss things, but are not inherently or permanently bad, then we stop feeling the need to attack others who make us uncomfortable. Instead, we learn to cope with those feelings and show ourselves the understanding we might show a friend.

jay smooth quote

Once we show that compassion to ourselves and others, we’re able to continue watching and reading and playing the things we loved before, but also to be critical of them and help make them better.

When faced with others who choose not to acknowledge privilege, and worse, to attack those who do we can react to them in a variety of ways depending on our connection with them. If we are their close friend or family member, we can call them out and ask them to stop, or we can ask a mentor they respect to call them out.

This, as Ellis and Quinn told Danskin in their recent Twitter conversation, is really the only way to plant any seeds of change in an individual. They have to be hear it from someone they respect and be ready and willing to stop toxic behaviors.

whyareyousoangry1

source: Innuendo Studios

We can also talk about privilege (and choice and social justice and popular culture in general) on our own platforms, to allow those who are open to listen and learn in a safe space, away from conspiracy theories, threats, or attacks. This helps minimize negative effects on bystanders doing similar work or affected by the issue when we speak out.

And last, we can demand good moderation in our communities, and expel people who choose to put our safety at risk. While education can be an important step towards change for AJ, it is not the responsibility of Sarkeesian or the other people he attacks to educate him. It’s best if he can take initiative himself, but if he won’t, people close to him who also have privilege have the best chance of pushing him along the path.

So those are my thoughts on Ian Danskin’s thoughts on AJ’s thoughts on Anita Sarkeesian. Whew, that’s a mouthful! How do you guys deal with nuanced issues in your day to day life? What are the best ways we can foster critical conversations? Let me know in the comments.

On Ian Danskin’s Theory Part 1: Why We’re All So Angry

Recently, Ian Danskin of Innuendo Studios released a lovely, easily digestible video series about cultural criticism, harassment, and privilege. It was super thought-provoking, so I want to showcase and engage with his argument here. In this first piece, we’ll look at his first three videos and talk about what I think he gets wrong.

On the ‘About’ page of this blog, I talk a little bit about my tongue-in-cheek url and my drive to analyze the pieces of pop culture I love. I started this project because media we consume both shapes us and is shaped by us. The people I promote on this blog and my YouTube channel share these beliefs, and one of those people is Anita Sarkeesian.

If you haven’t yet heard of her, I’m a little concerned that you haven’t been on the internet in five years, but don’t worry–Danskin gives a great summary of her work and the backlash to it in his new videos.

Danskin’s central question is why do cultural critics like Sarkeesian receive not just floods of counter-arguments but also personal attacks against them ranging from ridiculous to terrifying? And why do some of those attackers join together to form movements like Gamergate? In essence, why are people so angry?

As a shorthand, he calls the people attacking Sarkeesian ‘Angry Jack’ or as I’ll call him ‘AJ.’ AJ is typically one or more of the following: white, male, straight, cis, and middle/upper class. This allows him to see the world at its most ideal: a world where he is not judged based on his gender, the color of his skin, his sexuality, the abilities of his body, the state of his mental health, or his wealth or class status. A world where he is an individual and defined by his individual actions.

credit: Amanda Watkins

Angry Jack, credit: Amanda Watkins

When someone says something like “I’m vegan,” or “I don’t drink,” or “that game is sexist,” it forces AJ to look at the world in a different way, to wonder whether doing or liking the things this person doesn’t do/like makes HIM a bad person. As Danskin points out, this is a complex question, but I’ll do my best to outline what we have to consider.

First things first, the value of a human being is inherent and does not come from their accomplishments or even their individual choices in isolation. Second things second, of course, we are all responsible for our own behaviors and accountable for the consequences of those behaviors. Behaviors can affect others and society at large.

Growing up, most of us believed what we saw and what we were told without questioning it. It would be exhausting to debate every single decision we made or belief we adopted, and the beliefs our society extolled are already long-established, so we accepted them as fact upon hearing of them and moved on.

source: Wikipedia

source: Wikipedia

That means that if/when we’re forced to question them, we’re questioning not just our beliefs at that moment, but an entire lifetime of attitudes and actions. And if we forget for a moment that what is up for debate is not our character as an individual, not our intentions, but the society we live in and how our attitudes and actions affect everyone, then that means we could believe we’ve been not just wrong but ‘bad’ for a long time. And that might make us feel judged for the groups we belong to or the things we enjoy rather than our character.

On all of this, Danskin and I agree, but I do think he gets one thing wrong in his argument; he posits that the AJs of the world feel this way but are hangers-on who go along with the real ‘bad guys.’ He contrasts them with ‘psychopaths’ who threaten and dox people they disagree with for no good reason. I don’t think that’s the case. First of all, as one of his viewers/followers pointed out, it is ableist to blame harmful behavior on mental illness or say that all psychopathic or sociopathic people will behave harmfully. But it’s also just plain not true.

The sad fact of the matter is, the abusers and rapists he uses as foils to online harassers in his videos are not the exceptions. They are parents and siblings and friends. They are humans. As are online harassers in communities like GG. That’s why things like rape culture and toxic gaming culture exist–those acts have the power of social norms and hierarchies behind them.

Credit: Chase Carter

Credit: Chase Carter

In the most benign of forms, AJ dismisses rather than engages with privilege. He resorts to derailment in the name of things like ‘journalism ethics.’ He posits that he and his fellow AJs are a ‘minority’ who deserves to speak, or that he is engaging in an ‘intellectual debate’ with two equally valid sides. He is Taylor Swift tweeting to Nicki Minaj about the VMAs.

At his most dangerous, the same AJ is violent and abusive. He uses hate speech to scare people who speak up about issues they care about. He makes an online game where people can punch Sarkeesian in the face. He is Redditors sending death threats to former CEO Ellen Pao.

Danskin points out that many people believe that harassers are gonna harass no matter what. But that isn’t exactly true. Harassment is a choice, a reaction to discomfort, to anger and disappointment and doubt that previously didn’t exist, that makes it harder to continue living the way we always had until someone like Sarkeesian spoke up. Those who bring social issues to AJ’s attention and spark this discomfort become symbols of the destruction of ease and innocence in AJ’s life, so to cope he chooses to lash out at them.

source: City of Renton website

source: City of Renton website

Many AJs have most grown up seeing gaming as a safe space for them, an area of culture where they can go to escape their personal disappointments. This helps explain, but not excuse, why someone like AJ might attack someone like Sarkeesian, who asks him to examine games and how they affect others. To him, this means he has to question himself, which is a scary, difficult, and – if we’re honest – life-long process.

It’s much easier to deflect. Danskin says that AJ is less a type of person and more the mindset we enter when we are faced with our privilege and enter defend-and-attack mode. I agree that every person with privilege, at one point in another in their lives, feels uncomfortable about taking advantage of privilege or having it at all says about their character. We privileged few each have the ability to become an AJ.

But that reaction is a choice. To avoid becoming one, we have to develop alternative reactions, new coping mechanisms. We have to recognize that a) it’s okay to feel discomfort but b) the social issues being exposed are bigger than our individual discomfort and therefore c) the debate at hand isn’t actually about our morality at all.

Thanks for reading! On Saturday we’ll talk about how we can create just online spaces and hold ourselves and others accountable. In the meantime, let me know your thoughts, like what do you think of Danskin’s videos? Where does harassment come from? Why do I get so defensive when someone says they don’t drink soda?

What’s In a Name? Part 3: Conclusion – Thematic Analysis of Her Story

SPOILER ALERT: this series contains plot details for the game.

If you haven’t seen them yet, check out Part 1 and Part 2 of this series now.

In case you have no idea what’s going on, this is the third and final installment of WIAN, my analysis of the game Her Story. So far, we’ve talked about the title of the game, the names of the main characters, and their sisterly relationship. In addition to Hannah and Eve, many other characters in the game share names with figures from history or mythology, which is what I want to look as we wrap up today. Watch the video below or keep reading for more.

Florence, the midwife who steals and raises Eve, shows similarities to Florence Nightingale, a nurse during the Crimean War who also had an interest in writing.

Simon is the name of the apostle later called Peter in the New Testament.The name Simon means “he has heard,” and in the end his character doesn’t just bear witness to Hannah and Eve’s story, his death allows it to be shared.

When Hannah gets pregnant, Simon wants to name the baby ‘Ava,’ but Hannah refuses. She doesn’t want her daughter to have a symmetrical name and be plagued by the same issues of identity and reflection as she and her sister were. She wants to name the baby Sarah, another biblical name.

source: Good Reads

source: Good Reads

The Orson Scott Card novel Sarah describes the events that befall Abraham and Sarah in Genesis from Sarah’s point of view, expanding the few sentences they get in the bible to 300 pages. Eve’s interviews do a similar thing for her life and that of her sister.

After the events of the game, Eve’s child is named Sarah, as we know from the chat messages that appear on the database computer. The player watches the videos alongside Sarah, to learn ‘why her mother did what she did.’

Reflection, Representation, and Storytelling

In her interviews, Eve often connects her life to fairy tales she read in books growing up. She even calls her final interview ‘a real life fairy tale.’ For her, growing up across the road from Hannah, Hannah’s life was what hers was supposed to look like, what she read about in books. So she cut her hair like Hannah’s, moved like Hannah, and eventually lived not just with Hannah, but as Hannah.

Many women feel compelled to look, dress, and act like the characters they learn about as children, the women they see on television or in movies. They are princesses or evil witches, good or bad seeds, and they provide archetypes after which girls are expected to model their own lives. Girls are set up to compete with their sisters to be the prettier or more likeable one, to perform womanhood more perfectly, because only then can they receive their fairy tale ending or their blessing from God.

source: Wikimedia Commons

source: Wikimedia Commons

These ideas of what makes someone a successful girl, what makes them the hero of their own story, are passed down from generation to generation in stories we tell and books we read. We learn them from such a young age that it can be difficult to remember they’re only stories

As time went on, both Hannah and Eve realized that aspects of living as one person didn’t feel good. That it limited them, made it difficult for each to be her authentic self. When Eve finally lets go of being one with Hannah, she embraces her individuality, getting a tattoo and wearing a wig. And when she is ‘herself,’ the man she’d always fawned over falls in love with her, separately from the character she played, and gives her the baby she’d longed for when her sister was pregnant.

Hannah is understandably angry at this turn of events. She was taught that acting a certain way would deliver her happiness and then found out that wasn’t true. She lashes out, and although she may not have intended to, she kills Simon.

source: Sam Barlow

source: Sam Barlow

But Eve doesn’t condemn Hannah or blame her. She protects her because in the end, neither of them is a ‘villain’ or a ‘damsel,’ and they aren’t in competition with one another. By telling her story, Eve liberates not just herself, but also her sister and her daughter, from these boxes. As Eve is giving her last interview to the detectives, Hannah is escaping the police and her past.

Each of the women in the story sheds the skin of her namesake and embraces her flawed, fully realized self. And as we play the game, we learn to let go of a little bit of our own preconceptions. To question the stories we tell ourselves.

Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this analysis, you might like my review of GTFO The Movie or my analysis of the Mass Effect Trilogy.

What’s In a Name? Part 2: Hannah and Sisterhood – Thematic Analysis of Her Story

SPOILER ALERT: this series contains plot details for the game. 

On Sunday I published Part 1 of my three-part mini-series on Her Story, which focused on the meaning behind the title of the game and Eve’s name. Like Eve, Hannah shares much with her biblical namesake, but has a critically different fate in the game. To hear more, watch the video below or keep reading.

Hannah

In Judeo-Christian mythology, Hannah is Elkanah’s first wife of two and his favorite, but she doesn’t give him children. This upsets her, so she prays to God for a child and eventually is blessed by Eli the High Priest with six.

In Her Story, Hannah falls in love with Simon first and doesn’t want to share him with Eve. She marries him and gets pregnant by him, but has a miscarriage which renders her infertile. Yet she never receives a blessing, never bears him a child, and never lives the story book life that sat just out of reach for so many years.

Sisterhood and Rivalry

Throughout the game, we hear of times that Hannah resented Eve. She once held her head underwater, considering drowning her before relenting and letting her breathe. Another time, she hit her ‘harder than she needed to’ when imitating a bruise she got because of Eve’s actions. It’s even suggested that she tried to kill Eve before she was born, that Eve was never supposed to make it into the world. The song Eve plays for the detectives further underlines this ambivalent relationship.

In ‘The [Dreadful] Wind and the Rain,’ the older sister drowns the younger, prettier one because the man she loves is more infatuated with her. The younger sister is described as having long yellow hair. Since Eve wears a blonde wig when she performs as a musician, and is the one whose pregnancy is successful and who Simon eventually ‘chooses,’ she can be read as the younger sister in the song. But instead of having her story told by a fiddle made of her body, Eve tells her story herself.

In the Bible and the song Hannah’s ‘character’ competes with other women for a man’s affection. But unlike in those stories, in Her Story (as in the mini-game in the recycle bin) ‘Player Two’ or Eve ‘wins.’ The game offers an alternative to the cultural mythology about femininity and the role of women in society: maybe obedient, shy, and innocent is not the natural or only way to be. Eve is gnostic, confident, and even a little reckless but she still wins Simon’s heart, and is not the person who kills him. Of course, in the end the sisterhood is not really a rivalry at all. Instead, Eve’s acceptance of her individuality gives each woman freedom; the autonomy to tell her own story.

her story artwork

Thanks for reading! Share your theories in the comments and keep your eyes peeled for Part 3 of this analysis. Part 3 is here!