Features

Four Ways to Use Symbols to Add
Emotional Depth to Games

Symbol Type #2: Symbolic Subplot

Usually at least one of the characters (although sometimes more) in a story has what I call an emotional fear, limitation, block, or wound. Quite often, this person is the lead character, although not necessarily. In the first Star Wars movie, Luke Skywalker had to learn who he was (a Jedi knight), Han Solo had to learn responsibility and how to act as a member of a group (instead of operating solo), Princess Leia had to learn to be vulnerable in love, Obi-Wan had to learn he could still make a difference, and C-3PO had to learn courage. Each of these characters was forced to confront their respective fears, limitations, blocks, and wounds (FLBWs, for short).

Usually, the character doesn’t know he or she has an FLBW. If you pointed it out, the character would probably disagree; in fact, they’re usually quite oblivious. It’s unlikely, for instance, that Han would have agreed with you if, at the start of the film, you accused him of being unable to function as part of a team. It’s unlikely Luke would have agreed if, at the start of the film, you accused him of having no idea who he was.

A character’s path of growth through his or her FLBW is a rocky one; quite often the character resists growing. A character’s path of growth through the FLBW is called a character arc. In many stories, some of the most com-pelling emotional moments are wrapped around a character’s process of wrestling with and eventually growing through his or her emotional fear, limitation, block, or wound.

Some writers insert a symbol into the story that represents the character’s arc. That is, as the character changes and grows, the symbol changes right along with the character. Therefore, a symbolic subplot is a plot-deepening technique because it continues throughout all or most of the plot (unlike the symbol of the character’s condition or change in condition, which occurs in a single scene or a small part of the plot).

Example #1
In the new Star Trek series, Enterprise, one of the crew, Ensign Hoshi Sato (Linda Park) is a woman with extraordinary linguistic abilities. In one of the early episodes, she’s having a hard time adapting to life on a starship. She wants to go home, back to Earth.

She has brought a pet along with her — a yellow slug. The slug isn’t doing well aboard the ship. Environmental conditions threaten its health.

By the end of the episode, after discovering how much the crew needs her, she has made her peace with being in space. She drops the slug off on an Earth-like planet, where it will survive just fine. Thus the slug is a symbolic subplot.

The slug not doing well in space equates with Sato not doing well in space. The slug being put on a new planet and doing well there thus equates with Sato surviving and thriving away from Earth.

With a symbolic subplot, the audience can stay abreast of a character’s progress in his or her character arc just by checking up on what’s happening with the symbol. Just as in the case with the symbol of a character’s condition or change in condition, a symbolic subplot may or may not be consciously noticed by the audience or game player.

Let’s revisit the example from the Enterprise episode. In this case, unlike most, we are quite aware that the slug is a symbolic subplot, for the doctor on board the ship even points this out to Ensign Sato. While speaking to her, he compares her difficulties to those experienced by the slug.

This bit of dialogue violates the guideline of having the symbolic subplot operate just outside of most people’s conscious awareness. In my opinion, this was a mistake. The slug symbol would have generated more emotion if it hadn’t been pointed out to the audience. “Look, here’s a symbol” is usually not the best way to go. However, as every writer knows, to every guideline there are always successful exceptions.

Example #2
In the film Wonder Boys, Michael Douglas plays a character who wrote a great novel decades ago and is now a washed-up creative writing professor at a prestigious liberal arts college. His life’s a mess. He’s depressed, and he’s been working forever on a sprawling novel that he hasn’t shown to anybody. The symbolic subplot is the novel he’s writing. The novel is analogous to his life. We learn that the he’s been working on the book for decades. Then we learn that it’s a sprawling jumble, with plotlines going off in all directions but no focus, just like his life. It comprises tons of details without a unifying thread, just like his life.

Further along in the film, the pages of his manuscript — the only copy he has — are blown to the wind (symbolic of his life falling apart). Later still, when someone asks him what the novel was about, he can’t answer — meaning he has no idea what his life is about. By the end, once he feels his life has again assumed meaning and direction, he starts a new novel, a novel that has power and focus.

Using this Technique in Games
Trying to build in a character arc for your player opens up a can of worms, because in a symbolic subplot, the changes in the symbol reflect the changes that your character undergoes as he or she progresses through the rocky path of his or her character arc. And how do you manage how a character goes through a character arc when that character is controlled by the game player?

This question takes us right to the cut-ting edge of story-based games. To explore all the ways in which game designers are tackling or could tackle this problem would be an article in itself, if not several.

Furthermore, it opens up another problem. On one hand, how do you tempt players into seeing themselves in a role and making decisions appropri-ate to that role? On the other hand, how do you allow players to play the game the way they want to play?

Still, this is one direction in which story-based games are moving. For instance, let’s take Raven Software’s action-adventure game Star Treck Voyager: Elite Force. The game tries to create a character arc for Alex, the main player character (what I call a “first-person character arc,” since the person who’s supposed to undergo emotional change is the player). The attempt to cast the player as the Alex character, thereby helping the player to experience character growth during the story, is done through a variety of methods: observation of a character’s behavior and speech during cinematics; watching how other characters respond to the player character; hearing the words coming out of the player character’s mouth (what I call “self auto-talk”), spoken in Alex’s voice and with his personality; and the player’s changing responsibilities as the game progresses.

	In Sony’s Ico, the main character’s quest to save a beautiful girl with mystical powers contains symbols that engage the player’s emotions and affect gameplay.

While these first-person character arcs are a fascinating and critical area of discussion, I’ll bring the subject back to where we began. How can a designer use a symbolic subplot to deepen a plot by echoing a player’s first-person character arc?

Let’s imagine a game in which the player is a samurai swordsman. He’s a master of many weapons. Armed with a full range of finely honed steel instruments of death, he leaves his samurai master’s training to rescue his master’s niece from an evil warlord. This mission will set a much bigger plot in motion.

The obvious character arc follows the player character from his origin as a novice swordsman to becoming a master himself. Because this is the most typical character arc, let’s toss it out. As I often tell my writing students, when it comes to characters, lines of dialogue, scenes, or plots, a good general guideline is, “Find the cliché, then throw it away.” (This guideline also dictates that the master not be a clichéd wise Asian character either.) So let’s make our character’s arc to “attain a spiritual connection to the uni-verse.” As the samurai character attains spiritual wisdom or abilities, perhaps the world will start looking different in some way. Perhaps he’ll be able to perform extraordinary moves akin to those demon-strated by the fighters in Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon. Could you give this character arc a symbolic subplot?

Hypothetical game example #1
Perhaps the samurai’s master has given him a sword. It makes a harsh, ringing noise when swung. But as the player character progresses along the character arc, the noise becomes beautiful and harmonic.

Hypothetical game example #2
Suppose the player character recharges his life force by returning to a beautiful little bamboo meditation hut suspended over a small stream. In the beginning of the game, the stream is muddy. But as the player progresses along the character arc, the stream gets clearer and clearer.

In either of these two examples, the player may or may not notice the change in the symbol. This situation is just what a game designer generally wants: a symbolic subplot that works just at the edge of the player’s conscious awareness or just outside of it.

Making usable symbols in gameplay.In the first example, perhaps when the sword makes its most beautiful, harmonic sound, something extraordinary happens.

A frail old man in the village is, in fact, much more than the peasant he appears to be. When he hears that beautiful sound, he knows the samurai is spiritually ready and gives the player character some special weapon, amulet, potion, or secret that is essential to the accomplishment of the game’s final and most dangerous task. Or, taking a cue from ICO, perhaps it’s only when the sword makes this beautiful sound that it’s fully charged and thus useful against the final and most formidable enemy.

	In the first-person action game Star Treck Voyager: Elite Force, players assume the role of a character named Alex. One way we know Alex is growing in maturity and wisdom is that he’s given more and more responsibility for the Elite Force team.

You could also find a way to turn the river (in the second example) into a usable symbol. Maybe the master built the meditation hut over the river and imbued it with magic of which the player character is unaware. Let’s say the master dies during the course of the game. But, when the character arc is complete and the stream becomes clear, the master’s face can be seen in the river, from which he dispenses advice that is crucial to accomplishing the game’s final tasks.

A symbol doesn’t need to be used in gameplay to justify its being there, for its main purpose is to enhance the depth of the emotional experience. However, a symbol that can also function as an ele-ment of gameplay obviously represents an opportune situation.

Game example.In the game Aidyn Chronicles: The First Mage, one of the player character’s close friends is an NPC who’s a reluctant knight. Though the knight has sworn off the violence of battle, he’s continually forced to fight for his king, for honor, and to support an honorable cause. He carries a pole bearing the banner of the kingdom he serves. As a tool of gameplay, the banner has certain protective functions.

Because of this, the banner is often ripped in battle, symbolizing that the knight’s heart is torn every time he violates his decision to abstain from fighting. Furthermore, the banner, when torn, prompts discussions by the knight and those around him as to the ethics of his fighting in battle versus being a man of peace. The banner is a symbolic subplot, indicating, at any given moment, the knight’s state of mind as he wrestles with the decision to be, or not to be, a warrior.

This is one of those examples in which a symbol serves a double duty. Not only does it deepen the emotional experience, but it also is a usable symbol with a function in gameplay.

Symbol Type #3: Foreshadowing

Foreshadowing is another plot-deepening technique. Although it only appears in one specific scene, it prepares us for a later plot development. In fore-shadowing, once again you’re creating a symbol that usually operates outside the conscious awareness of the player or audience. The symbol, or what occurs to the symbol, suggests something that will occur later in the story to one of the main characters — usually something bad.

Example
In the film The Shawshank Redemption, Tim Robbins plays a man who has been unjustly sent to prison. There he runs afoul of the warden, and the two become enemies. Later in the film, another man who has information that could clear Robbins is sent to the prison. The warden finds out about this and asks the man to step out with him into the prison yard at night. The warden grills the new prisoner, who confirms his knowledge of information that could help Robbins.

The warden, finished with his inquiry, tosses his cigarette on the ground and steps on it to put it out. He walks away, and the prisoner is shot from an unseen source in a guard tower. The extinguishing of the cigarette was the foreshadowing that the prisoner, or at least the information he had, was going to be snuffed out. As such, it evokes an ominous feeling when we see it happen.

Hypothetical game example. Let’s go back to our samurai swordsman. His master has a bonsai tree that is 150 years old, cultivated and handed down to him by his own master, who is long since deceased. The samurai’s master has used the careful cultivation of the small tree to perfect his patience.

Then, either during a cinematic or during gameplay, the villain destroys the tree. This would foreshadow the master’s impending demise.

The bonsai tree could also be turned into a usable symbol with a function in gameplay if its magic heals the samurai when he’s injured or restores his life force when it’s been depleted. Thus, the tree’s destruction would not only foreshadow the master’s death, it would also affect gameplay by depriving the samurai of a source of healing and thus increasing his jeopardy.

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Symbol Type #4

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