I've seen people making a lot of fuss about how games are rare in art because of the player's ability to affect the narrative through their choices.
So, why is it that the best games I've played recently have featured entirely linear stories?
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Both Ikenfell and Iconoclasts have struck me as really well-told stories, full of themes and messages and interesting characters, weaving together impactful and profoundly affective stories. They're works of art that would be lesser without the interactivity. AND YET
There is no point where I've meaningfully impacted the story through a choice I've made. So what is it about my interaction with the game that adds value? If it isn't a story choice I've made, then what? Maybe understanding this can add some nuance to the games/art discussion.
Let's talk about books for a while. Brandon Sanderson teaches a course on writing SFF novels, wherein he talks at length about action scenes: what they're for and how they work. Put shortly, action is for characterising and advancing the plot. "How" follows "why" in this sense.
In Mistborn, Sanderson uses action scenes to underline the relative expertise of Vin and Kelsier - the former apprenticed to the latter. We see Vin learning about her powers and Kelsier's specialisation in magically pushing and pulling on metal.
This forms part of Vin's character arc and later pays off in Kelsier's last stand scene. The action builds the reader's understanding of the characters, their abilities and flaws, hence the significance of the story beats.

What has this to do with games? Well, games are action.
The key difference is that games' action is interactive, so when a game is made a certain way the player and the character(s) learn and grow together by putting together the tools available. This way, a good game builds character through a player's small, moment to moment choices
And here's where we loop back to the games - spoilers ahoy - to discuss some of these moments.
In a key moment in Iconoclasts, Robin's ally Royal has just been struck down by his literal god. The space station is losing air, Royal is despairing, and Robin is left to escape - given the option of taking Royal with her.
Here's the thing - it's literally impossible to save Royal, but you have the tools to *try*. Robin's failure here is a key part of the message the game is sending - you might have the tools, but you *can't* help everyone. By trying to save Royal, you are living the narrative.
Ikenfell shows a different aspect of this. Maritte is an unmagical person visiting the titular school of magic to find her sister Saffina, who's in Trouble. Over the course of the game, she and her new friends gain new magic and the player learns to use that magic along with them
My ability to understand and use the various spells, characters & mechanics is key to succeeding the various challenges of the game, which draw the characters together in the face of adversity.
But central to the plot is how Maritte is different to her sister: honest, inclusive, and thoughtful where Saffina is secretive, divisive, and brash. The essence of Ikenfell's story is how inclusion solves problems which authority can't. But Ikenfell makes you live that in action
What unites these examples is that the choices made by the player don't affect the story. In a sense, they are the story - an integral part of the experience that a book or a film would have to show or tell. And in a game, it can just *be*.
Now I'm not the first person to arrive at this conclusion - we already have a word for this idea... "ludonarrative"
But as a teenager, I internalised the phrase "what I cannot create, I do not understand" - thank you for coming on this journey of understanding with me.
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