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[In this in-depth article, game academic Conway uses games such as Max Payne, Metal Gear Solid and even Sonic The Hedgehog to discuss how video games can break boundaries to refer to the world outside the game -- and how well it works.]
The "Fourth Wall" is a term often
invoked by the game player, reviewer, designer, critic and scholar to describe instances
when the video game medium consciously blurs the boundaries between the fictional and real world, either drawing something into the fictional world from
outside, or expelling something out of the fictional into the
non-fictional (the narrative mused upon by a self-aware protagonist, a character
monologue directed at the user, and so on).
Yet, whilst the notion of the fourth
wall finds itself within a welcoming habitat amongst media such as books,
television and cinema, the physical interaction demanded by computer games
creates a completely different relationship between product and audience.
A Brief History
The fourth wall of course finds its
roots in the theater, specifically in stages with proscenium layouts. If we
imagine the proscenium theatre as a square, then the initial three walls are
firstly the back of the stage, and then the two sides from where the cast
members would normally emerge; each is varyingly a literal or figurative wall
the audience cannot see beyond.
The "fourth wall" is the
remaining side of the square, situated directly between audience and stage.
This wall is transparent, so that the audience may voyeuristically observe the
events of the play, entrenched in their suspension of disbelief, understanding
and enjoying their position as invisible onlooker.
To briefly explain, we refer to
everything contained within the fictional world as diegetic, whilst
anything outside, or on top of the world, is referred to as non-diegetic
or extra-diegetic; something that can be seen or heard by a character is
diegetic, anything that can only be seen or heard by the audience is
non-diegetic. For example, in a film a jukebox is playing within the scene, the
music is diegetic. If music is playing over the scene, and it cannot be
heard by the characters but only by the audience, then it is non-diegetic.
"Breaking" the fourth wall is
when the audience's transparent view of the fictional world is reciprocated by
those on stage, suddenly able to peer outside the diegesis into the
non-diegetic world of the seated spectator, and to admit as such, generally
through addressing, acknowledging or directly engaging with the audience.
Herein lays the problem for video games. When you play a game, you fulfil the
dual role of audience member and performer on stage, as Newman clarifies:
"Importantly,
the... relationship between player and system/gameworld is not one of clear
subject and object. Rather, the interface is a continuous interactive feedback
loop, where the player must be seen as both implied and implicated in the
construction and composition of the experience."
In television and cinema, the use of the
term "wall" became something of a misnomer, as what we now view was
to be shown from a variety of angles and distances. The fourth wall in this
context became the screen, a technological division where the fourth wall
breaks occurred through not only an acknowledgement of the viewer.
But the fourth wall was also broken through a character's recognition of the technological apparatus supporting the
diegetic world; the camera, technical errors such as the presence of a boom mic
in the shot, and so on. Of course such technical flaws were soon adopted for
comedic purposes, and as we will see such practices are still prevalent within
the digital game complex (McAllister, 2004).
Due to the sheer variety of methods
available to break the fourth wall within numerous forms of media, it would be
informative to clarify precisely what one can consider to be a traditional
fourth wall break in video games. Firstly, a direct acknowledgement of the
player by the game is a clear fourth wall break in the most conventional sense.
Therefore a character directly addressing the gamer as player of the video game
would be a breakage.
Max Payne
Secondly, a display of self-awareness
by the product to its own status as game, such as a character's commentary on
his position as avatar -- a break commonly used by games such as Max Payne (Remedy
Entertainment, 2001).
Thirdly, making reference to an
artefact, event or person that is obviously outside the fictional world of the
game. A good example of this is can be found in God of War (SCE Studios
Santa Monica, 2005); upon discovering an Easter egg the player is awarded a
hidden cutscene where the creative director of the studio, David Jaffe, engages
in an argument with the game's protagonist Kratos, who quickly loses
patience and humorously kills his author.
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Granted, some of this seems part of the system's regular input featureset (e.g., the mic), but I think the classification should have more to do with the expectations of the user, rather than what's explicitly offered to developers as an interface. In other words, dickeying with the 4th wall is all about the conventions of the audience and not of the production. Once the player starts seeing this kind of thing as normal, it becomes part of the regular interface and ceases to be notable.
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"Whilst this would normally be a technical flaw in many of its native mediums, it is actually introduced by the developer to heighten realism, as audiences have come to associate such technical flaws as an admission of reality, as if the producer is admitting that there are certain natural forces that technology still cannot overcome, such as the sun causing lens flare."
Regarding lens flare, most will recall the high dynamic range lighting techniques used in the Half-Life 2 game and expansion episodes to accurately simulate the eye's response to swift changes in light intensity. Transitions from shadowy indoor areas to brightlit exteriors provoked an 'adjustment phase' where bright objects slowly came into focus and became more recognisable. An interesting question is whether this is the optimal lighting technique in games or whether the lens flare effect is preferable in terms of immersion (talking specifically about 'immersion' as opposed to 'realism').
Thanks for the thoughtful comments.
Jeff - Yes the Nintendo DS is a prime example of the circle expanding, to encompass the various hardware features of the platform.
The idea that the audience, through regular exposure, may soon find such features "normal" is very interesting, as this is exactly my argument against the invisibility of mundane fourth wall breaks such as dirt on the lens/lens flare.
We, as an audience, are so used to mediation, that we no longer blink an eyelid when the videogame regularly includes features traditionally viewed as limitations of other mediums, such as the camera shaking, motion-blur etc; these are seen by the audience as actually *increasing* "realism"/immersion, which is rather odd when you think about it.
Stephen - Thanks, the more we come to understand the digital game on its own terms, the more we can develop an effective vocabulary for communicating productive ideas and, *hopefully*, this will allow us to create better experiences for the user.
Also yes, I am indeed discussing the use of the third-person camera vis-a-vis lens flare etc., I fully agree that HDR lighting is an attempt at furthering the "realism" of the first-person perspective.
James - They are all of course great examples of the circle expanding (through both space and time in the case of ARGs), but I had only so much space to work with and wanted to use much of it to show how many taken-for-granted, "famous" fourth wall breaks in conventional digital games were in fact the complete opposite; once this was accomplished I knew people would logically apply it to these newer forms of gaming.
The purpose of this article was to introduce a new concept and get people thinking; it's like a new tool. I've used this tool on a few things to show how it works, and now I want people to try it out for themselves to see if it works. If you find it useful, and it seems you're already applying it effectively, then that's exactly what I was hoping for.
This game uses the DS and its ability to spy Wi-Fi signals. With every Wi-Fi signal found it gives the player a treasure. Requiring the player to actually go out and and play in the real world. It is actually a real world treasure hunt that breaks the wall. Once treasures are found then they are claimed on the DS and then it becomes more of an interactive toy experience where they customize the world and character, make songs, etc.
In the first hour of playing I drove downtown and found over 500 Wi-Fi signals yielding me 156 treasures and lots of game dollars to buy new treasures. Obviously high-density areas have more signals. So when I hunted for treasure in the burbs I would only get about 20 Wi-Fi signals per block of houses.
Thanks for all the famous examples of the past too, since I was unaware of most of them.
Scott - Thank you for an extremely interesting example! I've not heard of Treasure World before, it seems an excellent instance of the circle expanding to draw in aspects of the outside world into the realm of the game, I'll have to get a copy.
Great article! It made me think of times playing Mario 64, leaving the controller as a kid to go eat supper only to return to Mario or Yoshi sleeping and resting up for my return.
So expansion of the 4th wall draws the player inside, encouraging both interaction with the game physically (tilting the sixaxis in Rachet and Clank to control the tornado gun) and mentally (our shock at when Max addresses his realization of his place in a virtual world).
I was wondering how you feel about the 4th wall being broken during "tutorial" sections or "hint" queues in games. For example, Fallout 3 is a very atmospheric experience which is established early in the game, especially when your avatar first exits their underground fallout shelter and emerges in the post apocalyptic world. The first time we use the VATS targeting system we are prompted with a text tutorial on screen explaining the proper input commands for each action available to us. I feel that this breaks the immersion level of the game and detracts from the experience, preferring to have an explanation of an in-game system presented in a more clever way that does not detract from the level of immersion. I recognize that input devices (sixaxis vs wiimote vs natal technology etc.) are a necessary part of the video game equation, but I do believe they have the potential to both expand and contract the circle.
Hopefully my question/comment is clear.
In theory, it made the entire country of Japan the magic circle. Really wish I had tried it out, but the game has been out there quite a while now, so even if I did try it during a visit to Japan, it probably would meet with little success. The idea is neat, still. Something about the Treasure World example reminded me of this, so thanks to Scott for bringing that up.
Kicking out the player from a dream goes against the principles of fun, because the game wasn't completed yet that you already kick him out from it, but the rest of the article was sweet sauce.
Instead of "breaking the 4th wall", we should just say "playing with the 4th wall".
I think that's more explicit with the kind of usage in our medium.
By the way - if other didn't already point the error - the Psycho Mantis example is not from Metal Gear 4 but the first on Playstation.
One question though. If you consider the dirt in the camera as breaking the 4th wall because you admit the existence of a camera, why isn't Psycho Mantis power to make the controller to vibrate isn't? It's admitting the existence of a controller and so that you are only playing a game.
Nicholas - Yes I absolutely agree that those obvious "press A button to punch" tutorials detract from immersion, they contract the magic circle by throwing the player outside of the gameworld, reminding you of your limited ability to interact through peripherals, and in reminding you of this they break the immersion, I find them very... lazy I suppose.
Christian - I still very much enjoyed the joke at the time, though I'm sure Ernest Adams completely agrees with you!
Joél - There is no error, the Psycho Mantis example is from the last level of MGS4. If you had bought a recently released dualshock controller for the PS3 the described scenario would take place. If you had only the sixaxis, Psycho Mantis would mock you for not having a dualshock.
I believe the term "4th wall" is just not compatible with videogames. I think seeing them as expansions and contractions of the magic circle (a psychological engagement with the fictional world) can be much more productive.
Rafael - Very good question!
The dirt on the camera is a 4th wall break because at *no* point in any of the games (that I've played anyway!) does any character or narrative make reference to the camera following them. It is not ever acknowledged as existing by the game, much like the camera is never acknowledged as existing in your standard action film. Thus an acknowledgment through the "technical error" (fabricated as it is in games) of dirt on the lens is a fourth wall break, much like a boom mic entering the shot in Arrested Development et cetera; something invisible made visible.
Now your question stems from the same conundrum; something invisible to the fictional world is now made visible when you fight Psycho Mantis.
The crucial differences are twofold.
Firstly, Psycho Mantis does not address the player, but instead addresses Snake. This means instead of breaking the fourth wall (HEY YOU PLAYER OF A VIDEOGAME!), he talks to you as the character within the fictional world.
Secondly, Snake does in fact own a PS3 controller; remember how he controls little Metal Gear Mk2? Yep, that's a PS3 pad!
So in talking to Snake and telling him (you) to place the controller on the ground, the fourth wall is not broken, as it is made completely plausible that he is in fact talking to Snake, who you are playing the part of.
By expanding the magic circle to encompass the features of the PS3 controller hardware, the goal is to make you feel a direct connection with the gameworld as the character of Snake, instead of trying to make you feel "outside" of the gameworld, as a traditional fourth wall break would.
I hope that is all clear.
But what if something similar happened more than once? Or more songs are using a similar method? Would you appreciate that the band just cut the most amazing song out of nowhere?
I think the method that was used in Max Payne (at least the one you presented) is like a double-edged sword. It can be cool the first time to experience that (or be totally ridiculous), but the next times you will experience it... it will be totally flat, just like a one shot deal. I don't think it is totally good or bad, maybe the player never played twice the game, who knows. However I believe that games should offer enough replayability (interactivity) and because it takes time and money to build them, it should be also worth the work as well as worth the fun.
I think it would be more effective if the meaning was less direct and could add depth, like adding another dimension to the stuff that exist. By example, if you take a game with bullet time, instead of using directly the terms used to describe the mechanic (bullet doge, bullet time, slow time, etc.) it could be said in something similar like that : "It makes me think that I can focus enough, enough to feel like I think so fast that I can go beyond time and control their reactions, control their shots and even use them one against the other." The player can think about it and realize it does make sense and.. hey it is so true when I'm concentrated and am really good at using the Slow-Motion feature.. sometimes I really feel like that.. - Weird....
Instead of saying: "Endless repetition of the act of shooting, time slowing down to show off my moves.", what I think is way to familiar with the player.
Regarding that Max Payne example, I think it's as much a jocular commentary on the medium's narrative abilities as it is a fourth wall break. I will still have to agree that contractions of the fourth wall do tend to be more dangerous than expansions because they can play the same role as the spoilsport who breaks both the suspension of disbelief and the magic circle (the last bit being the worst part because it in effect makes the game cease functioning as a game).
I remember the Star Tropics example from an early presentation of this paper. I'm curious as to how you interpret this in relation to other 'feelies', particularly games that require you to enter a word from the manual in order to play them. Reflecting back on my own experience with such games, I recall them as more frustrating than anything else, similar to what Miyamoto referred to as 'labor', and so perhaps these are more contractions of the 4th wall. In contrast, other old text adventure games required the player to read a passage from the game manual before proceeding. Here, I think these text passages would be part of the interface rather than any breaking of the wall itself (similarly, we could look at videotape boardgames in the same way).
The Mario 64 camera is also an interesting example. The game recognizes the fact that a 'camera' is used to interact with the game world, and uses the Lakitu cameraman as a way of explaining this to the player (in a way, it's similar to manga instruction manuals). As a result, the magic circle expands just enough to contain the camera system of the game itself. This illusion is only really broken in a few places, primarily the intro and ending cutscenes. We become aware of the cameraman again when Mario is in front of a mirror and we see the Lakitu behind him - the scene functions as a live TV camera pointed at its display, which is in itself an interesting fourth wall break. This awareness of the technology behind the game seems to me a fourth-wall break because it is letting the player cognizant of the underlying technology of the game.
Finally, for some ridiculous fourth wall breaks, check out Pac-Man Adventures on the SNES.
Thanks for some fascinating examples! I am particularly fond of the Mario camera, as you say, the magic circle expands into other media, plucking the apparatus of the televisual experience and placing it within the gameworld, perhaps as a joking nod to the celebrity status gained by Mario since the original NES and SNES games?
The expansions of the circle into paratextual materials, such as the game manual, box et cetera are very interesting, but as you say, can sometimes be frustrating and self-defeating, if they reveal themselves too transparently as anti-piracy measures.
There must be a careful balance between fun and labour in such circumstances, and too many fall short. I believe the Star Tropics instance works because of the novelty of performing a task; you are not just reading/copying something, you are "creating" something through the use of the water and bucket, "revealing" something like some kind of treasure hunter.
It provides for the gamer a sense of autonomy and accomplishment, as if they've solved a puzzle on their own initiative.
Too many paratextual expansions fail at this and instead reveal themselves as cheap anti-piracy measures, which is both insulting to the gamer's intelligence and dignity; I remember feeling particularly annoyed whenever the "ENTER CODE FROM BACK OF MANUAL" box would pop up in certain game installations, which basically demands you prove yourself not to be a criminal.
By adding a sense of novelty or fun, the developer can easily sidestep such faux pas and instead make it a valuable part of the gaming experience.
And what I really liked about it was, like I said before, you're in and out at exactly the same time.
I wonder though, if a game (dev) decides to include the player in the magic circle, how far should he go to explain game quirks to uphold the suspension of disbelief, without falling into over explaining. I think that is actually quite difficult to do right.
The revelation acts as an insightful commentary on the power the developer holds over the magic circle itself.
They are basically saying "we have the power to expand and contract the circle as we wish, you are simply a slave to our whims". The circle then contracts, as a display of this power, so that the gamer finds him or herself sitting outside the game, able only to feebly observe the proceeding events, before expanding the circle once more to allow the gamer back in.
It is a brilliantly self-aware moment in videogame design.