The Beginner's Guide

Where do I start? The Beginner's Guide is a game about games. It might also be described as an interactive documentary. It's the story of the relationship between the developer Wreden (The Stanley Parable) and an indie developer named Coda. Wreden loves Coda's games, and he walks the player through them, explaining what they are and what they mean. He explains that Coda stopped making games a few years ago and he wants to encourage him to resume development.

If you're going to play, read no further.

Henceforth, when I reger to Wreden I refer to Wreden the character. I don't know how quickly others made the distinction or how soon the problem became apparent to other players. It became clear to me very early on that something was wrong with this game. Wreden mentions that Coda only shared games with him, and my immediate thought was, but why I am here, then? As Wreden walks me through various games, explaining the significance of this or that, dissecting various details with a certain knowing enthusiasm, I began to feel dread.

Wreden relates a story in which he and Coda argued whether games should be playable. Wreden thinks games should be playable, Coda doesn't. Wreden then "overrides" a feature of a prison game where the player is required to sit in a cell for an hour. He overrides a slow-down mechanism so I can see things in a room at the top of stairs that the player was never intended to see. He describes Coda's refusal to explain the games or the elements therein, then immediately tells me what he thinks they mean. He tells me what I need to do to trigger the next event in various games, if I can go here, if I can go there.

If you are a creative who has released work publicly, you may understand the discomfort this engenders all too well and see where this is leading. It's rather obvious, isn't it?

I sort of lied, above. The Beginner's Guide isn't necessarily a game about games. It seems like it's more about the relationship between creatives and consumers. As a creative, you encounter people who like your work, people who dislike it, and people who are indifferent. Of those who like it, there are those who really like it--fans. Creatives are supposed to be grateful for fans and thankful for their interest, but what happens when fans do things you don't like? When they put words in your mouth, or misunderstand you and your intentions, or twist what you've made into something else, or latch on tight and won't let go?

The game explores a lot of complex issues that aren't really distilled in one post. Someone billed it as a game that's impossible to review and I'm content to agree. One aspect I will discuss, however, is the Beginner's Guide highlights many of the things that make me profoundly uncomfortable about fandom at large. One of the reasons I've tried to stay on the edges of Dragon Age fandom is because it -- the act of being a Fan of a thing, of observing and interacting with other Fans of a thing -- makes me uneasy. This unease has never dissipated. Being a part of the Dragon Age fandom at the height of the frenzy over Dragon Age: Inquisition was harrowing (no pun intended).

Fandom is naturally quite defensive of its fannishness. I routinely see Tumblr essays waxing poetic about fandom and affirming how positive it is. Likely it is for many fans. But I have not really seen anything that suggests fans are beneficial for creators beyond monetary aspects. You could argue that thoughtful fan analysis and general squee provides positive feedback that fuels the process, but I'll tell you this: It's one thing to have people say, "I liked this, thank you!" and it's quite another to have someone dissect your work with a scalpel sharpened by certainty. Whatever their intentions, there can be a fine line between how positive that type of interaction truly is.

The Beginner's Guide also touches on the resentment creatives might hold for the consumer. Coda's last game is essentially impossible to finish. It must be brute-forced--which of course it is, as Coda knew it would be. It's not terribly unlike Fez's black monolith. Phil Fish wants players to play and enjoy his game, but at the same time he cannot resist that act of creator defiance, the unsolvable, unexplained puzzle. He knows the puzzle must be brute-forced, and by doing so, the community will deprive itself of the very joy it sought in solving it. Say what you want about Fish, as a creative I find there's a lot to relate to in that.

Throughout the game Wreden keeps saying Coda stopped making games and he wants to encourage Coda to continue, not realizing that in all likelihood Coda hasn't stopped making games at all, Coda has simply stopped giving Wreden access to them. But Wreden can't conceive of this--again, games are meant to be played, meant to be seen, he needs these games--so he assumes that if he doesn't see them, they must not exist. Even after Coda's final messages he still struggles to understand the developer he's become so obsessed with.

Anyway, the Beginner's Guide provides a bit to chew on, I've already written far more than I intended. It's one hell of an emotional ride. Just talking about it has worn me out all over again. I will play through it again, I want to walk back through the entire process and try to organize my thoughts. It's important. I don't think I'll talk about it any more, though.