. Spinning .

I've posted on the Interactive possibilities of this story on Hypercompendia, the latest post following a train of thought as the blind escape the fire and the confinement of the building.

Just happened to click on my Turbulence link under New Media and played a quick (very quick–I got tossed out immediately) game of Mystery House Makeover by Adam Cadre. 

Dang it all anyway.  Now the IF bug has bitten again.  This has images and that’s something I hadn’t seen before so it looks quite interesting.

Double dang.  I really want to get my head together and write up one of these things.  And a story in Flash.  And a novel…and, and, and…..

Well here am I, feeling perky and adventurous, and I amble back into Nick Montfort’s Book and Volume.  Where I left off, I had all the original tasks complete but evidently missed on picking up some new ones as well as looking around for clues.  That said, still, I decide to go in blind and try to find home.  Directionally Dysfunctionals should always use a map.

I am now very sleepy but can’t lay down, in a padded room with no exits.

Boy, I’m really good at this, aren’t I?

Just when you’re about to give up, something draws you back to the game.  With me, it may be my absolute obsession to leave nothing undone.  A fool’s dedication, but satisfying in some small way.

And reward for the effort is almost immediate; It is hinted that I’m hungry and I enter the nearest pub where an acquaintance gives me some intriguing information that sounds like an additional and important task beyond the pressing of red buttons on the servers.  When I leave, a decision to start at one end of the city brings me within a couple steps of the final server and I complete that task to bring the original five servers complete. 

I must remember to e-mail the boss and let him know that the mission is complete.  But is it?  There’s a hidden helmet that the acquaintance has said I will need.  So that’s my next move. But first, I must stop and say hello to Leonard Nimoy who is standing 3 feet above ground wearing jeans and a black turtleneck.

Good.  The story is becoming fun again.

All sorts of breakthroughs in writing and in reading these past few days, but even more in understanding and more than that, in further questioning.

Separating myself as a writer from the reading, yet that is contradictory to the very purpose and nature of IF.  However, in going back into Book and Volume to find that one particular (task) server that I missed, I feel no freedom of arrangement or movement, but instead feel very restricted.

In IF there is a space within which the story must unfold, within which clues and rewards and goals are reached.  This space must be traveled although in no particular path–this is the freedom allowed the reader/player.  But I’m having a problem (not at all unusual as I’m certifiably directionally dysfunctional and spatially impaired–a double whammy).  I keep coming upon the same intersecting paths but am unable to locate my anticipated goal.  Thus, a "boxed-in" effect that is as frustrating as it is conflicting to the purpose of interactive fiction.

Oddly enough, I feel this in the hypertext novel Afternoon, A Story as well, returning many times to the same point in story before being able to move forward.  I wonder then if there are certain traits or instincts a reader/user need have to be the prime target audience of this form of story.  Or, if in consideration of others such as I, there need be a built-in ramp for the disabled.

Well, surprisingly enough with my horrible sense of direction, I’ve managed to get to four out of five servers and rebooted them successfully–my original task.  But I have not as yet stumbled upon the final server which is somewhere in the center of the city I would think, since I’ve walked the perimeter.  However, in taking the direction I took, I notice that the servers I came upon were in the sequence originally given to me in the instructions.  And, the server I’ve not come across yet is smack dab in the middle.  Methinks it is time to backtrack, losing precious time because I probably did not stop and look around fully.

Another thing, out of many of the people that I’ve run into, there is no conversation–although I overheard one taking place and likely should have checked that out further to find the people involved.  It sounded like a revelation of deeper plot beyond my specified task, and it may have been either crucial to the story, to my success, or to open up further possibilities of adventure.

There was also the time I did get curious enough to stop and press a button, but was left holding Ben Franklin’s stick.  I took it along with me.

I’m curious now about the title of this piece, Book and Volume, and wonder how it figures into the story.  Nothing I’ve come across so far has struck me as a relative clue, and I suspect I’m missing a lot on my first go-round this game.

One of the things that is helpful in mixing media forms and exploring them simultaneously is that it focuses on the means and method and necessarily questions the purpose.

What then, is the lure of the story in text only form?  I don’t think I’ve ever described a book as exciting, but rather interesting or well-written or as appealing toan emotion of feeling or causing deeper thinking in reaction.

Do I care about my character in Silent Hill 2?  Enough to not want him (me as player) to get killed–but even that is in relation to the goal.  If he gets killed–and it’s happened many times–I don’t feel bad, I feel frustrated and go back to the saved portion of the game while he was still alive and replay it to avoid his getting killed.  Because if he dies, the story is over.

Just random thoughts here, but just as I am learning about new media methods, I think I need to focus on what I take for granted about the old.  While adventure stories are certainly the focus of story in book form, we tend to relate to the characters in what they’re going through to make it a more meaningful experience in reading. 

I also need to really get into Barthes’ S/Z to consider his thoughts and the reasoning behind reader interactivity that has helped spawn new media.  Maybe sometimes we’d rather just sit back and read a master storyteller craft story.

I’ve mentioned this before, but after working a bit more in the IF piece, Book and Volume, it appears that we’re on the right track towards seeking drama through relationship rather than action alone if we are indeed seeking to enhance and expand new media to emulate the pull of narrative story.

In IF, while the interactive portion is based on dialogue between the player and the game by typing in text directives and receiving information–similar in some ways to instant messaging, the story itself is action.  We must walk (or run) and complete some tasks to achieve a goal, with impediments placed in our path that must be overcome.  Same thing with the majority of video gaming.  There is none to very little relating to the "people" we meet along the way above discovering if they are there to help or to hinder the player in his goals.  Storytron, may or may not be a different approach, in that the action is supposedly based on definitive action/reaction of the players.

I also can’t help thinking about the way that life imitates art in this new means of story.  Survivor, Amazing Race, Big Brother (although this certainly is based more on relationships), and the new Treasure Hunt, are part of the phenomenon of "reality" TV, which has people scampering about collecting clues and competing to reach a final winning spot and maybe a million dollars.  It is sort of contradictory to me to call them "reality" shows however, when in reality, most people just don’t do any of these things.  The "reality" part is merely in replacing actors with non-actors who are not prescripted nor directed in the action.  And drama is still based on action, near constant action.  Unless they’re eating a bug of some sort, there is no interest in showing much dinner conversation.

There’s still a long way to go on entertainment via story.  Movies and TV enhanced book format with audio/visuals, allowing the stories that held our attention to be brought to a different form and fill in the imagery by providing it.  I think here that it is actually this complete form of control, beyond the book form that allowed us to picture the characters and settings with just a bit of help from the author, has had more to do with the intense interest in readerly story and interactive need than books themselves. 

But the writing of these stories, the reading of them to include interactive use in new media methods such as Storytron, the tools and the end results, still have a long way to go.

Well, with  a little bit of time and the recall of "go north" I found and completed my first task and refired up a computer server.  Wendy, it seems, is the computer name, so I wasted some time attempting to strike up a conversation there.  Knowing this, it’ll go easier with Nora, Ester and the rest.

Starting off on a new game, I found my progress much faster when not only remembering responses from the prior game, but remembering what doesn’t work.  The "go north" was how I managed to get moving in Photopia, and it did the trick for me here as well.  Unfortunately, I’ve reached a dead end and coming out of the building, I hung a left (east) and was pleasantly surprised to find that another of my proposed computers is housed in a locale right up the street.

I’m not exactly burning rubber, but then again, I’m having a good time.

With my inborn horrid sense of direction, I will admit I cheated and have printed out a map of the setting in this IF piece.  However, I intend to go my usual route of walking into walls with "go south," "go east," etc. just to play along and test the difficulty of maneuvers.  I have managed to get outside my apartment and am standing in the street (and unlike Silent Hill 2, there are no threatening creatures to face yet).

Since there are five places for the reader/player to necessarily visit to complete the task given (and likely, get back home again), one glance at the map that reveals a city layout (similar to that in Silent Hill 2, where you’re encouraged to consult the map) tells me I’d be in big trouble if I chose to rely on my senses alone.  I’m sure that once I get enough of the "there’s nothing there" replies to my moving, the map will be in use.

At my age, I can only handle so much frustration.

While it is my normal manner to jump right into something, I do go back and read directions and manuals shortly after beginning.  In New Media, there are some standard things to learn: keys and mouse clicks to move characters in visual games, buttons and menus for keeping track of moves or accumulations of items or notes, key words to respond in order to progress in interactive fiction, etc.  And while most programs have built-in forms of mapping progress, I find myself going back to notebooks and pencils.  I now have a divided notebook where most of my notes are kept neatly in sequence–or scribbled in the heat of battle–so that I can go back and check them if I need to locate something or go back to "begin" if I’ve gotten killed and forgot to save my place. 

Learning something new like Storytron, especially when the program itself is still in its testing stages and being warned by the creators that it is complicated in its concept to learn, I printed out and bound a neat manual complete with the information and the tutorials offered on the site.  For me, working with a hard copy is just easier than clicking back and forth to new windows of information when trying to maneuver within new software.

It seems particularly incongruous to be using a "book" however, to learn a program or story that is meant to replace it.

I’ve lost my hard-learned knack of getting through  IF.  To give you an example, the transcript from I’ve made of my progress in getting outside from "my" apartment to the street to begin my mission (the text reponses/directions following the > are mine:

Session restored.

>go south
That’s not going to happen while you remain on the couch.

>stand up
You get off the couch.

>x
( That is, "examine the couch." )

It doesn’t go with art, which isn’t a problem at the moment.

>x room

Home
It’s your residential canister. Your lime-green couch is against the longest wall. And it looks like we also have your nLap 500 and a heap of clothes.

>find Wendy
If such a discovery can be made, it will have to be made manually.

>go out
You switch the light off as you leave. The door swings shut after you.

Hallway
The palate-cleansing corridor that leads to your apartment.

>go outside
You can’t go that way.

>go down hallway
Only the first part of that was understandable: go down.

>go down

Your Apartment Building’s Lobby
Clean, if not homey. The doorman waits in a Plexiglas cube that looks curiously bulletproof.

>speak to doorman
That command wasn’t understood.

>ask doorman
( That is, "ask the doorman for the Plexiglas cube." )

Your attempt to talk to the doorman either doesn’t make it through the Plexiglas or doesn’t make it into his head.

>say hello
( That is, "say that to the doorman." )

The doorman acknowledges your greeting appropriately.

>walk past doorman
Something that you’re trying to refer to either hasn’t ever been mentioned or is not currently in the area.

>walk past cub
Something that you’re trying to refer to either hasn’t ever been mentioned or is not currently in the area.

>walk past cube
Something that you’re trying to refer to either hasn’t ever been mentioned or is not currently in the area.

>go to cube
That’s not something you can enter.

>exit lobby
But you aren’t in the surroundings.

>go to Plexiglas cube
That’s not something you can enter.

>leave lobby
But you aren’t in the surroundings.

>go north
You can’t go that way.

>go south
You can’t go that way.

>go east
You can’t go that way.

>go west
You can’t go that way.

>leave building
But you aren’t in the surroundings.

>step up to doorman
That verb doesn’t seem to be part of your API, metaphorically speaking. That is, that verb won’t be understood. Try something else, or phrase that command differently.

>walk to doorman
That’s not something you can enter.

>walk out
Onward, into the intentional city. nWare crafted it well — built from the ground up with security and scalability in mind, it’s fully pedestrianized but hums, almost full-size, like a city center.

The night sky is completely cloudless. The dry warmth of the air hints at the desert that surrounds nTopia.

Abalone & Fifth
Your apartment building is on the southwest corner. Opposite it is a windowless, blocky building. On the southeast corner Pharmicopia sprawls. Otto’s Automat is to the northwest.

>

Now that I’m all cocky because I finally got past the first "event," and was presented with my first task and seem to be on the right road, some observations about both IF and this piece in particular…

Just as in any interactive media play, we take on a certain persona, usually that of the protagonist and are called upon to react to situations as they occur as well as proceed along a desired or named goal that will be considered the successful finishing of the story.  In strictly text medium with first person point of view, we have no choices; instead, we are asked to accept what the author has laid out as our actions within the plot.  The conflict then is of a dual nature:  react to the circumstance, and, react in a manner that may be alien to our own nature  (No! No! I’m not gonna open that door at the top of the stairs!).

But interactive gives us our own personality back–sometimes a disheartening realization that we are in fact sissy-wimps or on the other extreme, barely restraining murderous tendencies.  But nevertheless, we are pretty much ourselves if the programmed story allows for all the different personality types of their readers/users.  This is what makes it more interesting and more truly in keeping with the Barthes theory of the story belonging to the reader. 

One thing of particular note in Book and Volume is that at one point I was asked to introduce myself and hesitated only a second to consider what "word" was the key before I typed in "susan."  The next sentence was addressed to me personally (with the warning that it was likely to forget me immediately). 

Now THAT’S interactivity at its finest.

First, the IF piece, Book and Volume:  Finally got the secret code word that answers the pager.  Simple, and I’d thought I’d already tried it, but I guess not in the right sequence.  Anyway, the response on my part was just as I’d remembered all my ventures into IF and game stories: Click save and close the program, breathing a victory sigh of relief.  This gives my heart time to slow back down to its normal flub-dub perhaps adding minutes back to the hours the stress has taken off my life.

In Prairie Schooner’s Wolves, I am immediately grabbed (and so turn around and escape the book to share with ya’ll) by the metaphor.  The fly was one thing; likely the death of the relationship or of the woman’s own desire to fight anymore.  But the wolf, a word her husband says aloud while working a crossword puzzle, is kept to herself as a symbol.  Likely, the symbol of her restlessness and emerging change in thinking of herself as a separate entity from the couple she’s been in pair with her husband.  Very nice work.

Well, it didn’t take long for me to fall right back into character with this–and I had to search the net to find the WinFrotz Interpreter to download. 

I love IF, because it’s just so me.  I am in my element here, but it’s just so much more obvious when you’re stuck on one blue screen that keeps telling you something like, "That verb doesn’t seem to be part of your API" — in other words, in responding to my typed instructions to move along in the story, the program and I don’t speak the same language.  Precisely like my dealings in the real world.

In the meantime, there is a hurried pace picking up as the pager I’m trying to turn off is buzzing, vibrating, and threatening my sanity.

THE PAGER IT HURTS US!

Where, oh where did I put that list of words to use in IF play?  I try more words–even "cry"–though it’s never worked before.

The pager’s buzzing and vibration seems to have set up a sort of resonance in your body, which reacts like the Tacoma Narrows Bridge.

I’m getting panicky now; I recognize the warning signs from previous excursions into IF as well as life.  Think!  Think!

*** So it goes ***

On the last day of your working life you accomplished 0 of the 0 tasks assigned you.

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