When one thinks of a videogame story, the mind typically wanders to sprawling epics like those set forth in the Final Fantasy series or harrowing tales of one super soldier conquering all odds to find the girl that he loves and save all of humanity. If that's not your bag, maybe you tend to like the whimsical tales about a plumber rescuing a princess or a psychological thriller about dead spouses. In the wide world of games, there is assuredly something for everyone.

I really respect this form of creating narrative. There are some guys doing interesting things with pre-formed stories, and to be fair, writing a compelling interesting story is difficult in any medium. However, one thing that games excel at, far above every other medium is the ability to create individualized, dynamic stories. For me, that is the greatest element of gaming.

For an example of what I'm really getting at, look no farther than your closest 6 year old. If you don't have a 6 year old handy, try to remember what you were like when you were a 6 year old. Children excel at drawing epic tales of adventure out of nothingness. A child can relate to you a tale of epic adventure after a trip to the grocery store.

Gaming is a portal back to this childlike sense of imagination. As an example of what I'm getting at, I will relate a tale from my most recent addiction: Minecraft.



I started my first real Minecraft game to find myself on a beach. In one direction, a giant ocean spanned forever, as far as the draw distance could see. Turning around, I saw nothing but two large hills made into near perfect ziggurats. I set off to find coal, my most pressing need. I wandered around for a bit desperately searching for odd-colored rocks to set up camp near when I finally came upon a coal deposit in a mountainside.

I set to forging rudimentary tools to carve out the precious fuel and dug a small room out of the side of the mountain with a pickaxe made out of wood. I created some torches and spent my first night looking over my shoulder as I dug further and further into the mountain. When daylight came again, I had entirely upgraded my tool collection steel instruments and set out with bare rations and building materials to find a proper homesite. I searched until the sun began to sink in the sky and, having lost all sense of direction decided to settle on the nearest high ground I could find.

Miraculously, I came upon a broad mountaintop with a view in every direction. In one valley there were trees, in another a natural quarry. Here I would build my first true settlement. Even as I laid my first foundation, I could hear the sounds of shambling creatures of the night. I saw their glowing eyes as I finished my third layer of bricks. I was safe in the skeleton of my home for the night. I set up my chests, my bench and my precious forge and I prepared for the morning's toils.

Time passed quickly after this point. By morning I had a competent structure with light decorations. After a few days, I had depleted the area of resources and expanded underground. Not content with the meager surroundings I returned to on trips back to the surface, I decided to expand my glorious empire to the next beautiful mountainside. I remember thinking that building a bridge that crossed a valley was a little excessive. I told myself that I should work on finding precious resources before really digging in to building my empire. However, my quest for glory could not be sidetracked. I begin building the bridge with utmost confidence. In my foolish pride, I began to take unnecessary risks in engineering. I focused on creating a strange, haunting structure with meandering, non-Euclidean geometry. I felt like M.C. Escher on acid.

Then, like any good addict, I royally screwed up. I was backing up over the void when God smote me with a sneeze. The loss of precision for a single second sent me hurtling to my death in the rocky valley below. My heart stopped and panic broke over me in waves. I took off my headphones and let my head drop to the desk.

I died. What now? Did I lose everything? Do I restart in the beginning. Is my kingdom still there or has every trace of my grandeur been erased?

To be honest, I almost quit playing. Hours had passed and dawn was threatening to break through my window. I had to know though. I set out in search for my first camp. Was it east or west? Over the tall hill or around the quarry? Nothing seemed familiar. I had spent so little time here that I began to question where here was? Maybe I had been thrown to a random spawn point. I was seriously freaking out when I tripped and fell into moving water. I was desperately trying to escape, but the currents carried me around a few bends before I escaped.

When I finally swam away from the rapids and regained my bearings, I saw the entrance to my makeshift shelter. I rejoiced silently and reached the safety of the small room and just stood there for a moment. It was still bright daylight outside, but I wanted to at least start here next time I played.

Actually, I want to start back at the castle. I'll just get back there. I opened my inventory to get out my workbench to prepare for my journey when I realized two impossibly terrifying things. First, all of my everything had been lost in the accident. Gold, steel, red gems, my steel sword and armor. I was naked and defenseless. The second thing I realized is that I had taken off my headphones. I knew before I actually heard it that the zombies had spawned behind me. I was so greedy I had taken all of the torches from this meager house, and in the dark corner of the room hell had opened a trap door.



My character and my spirit died deaths worthy of a Shakespearean tragedy. I closed the game, uncertain if I'd ever return. I went to bed that night thinking about the small world that I had lost. I told my friend the next day about my lost kingdom. In return, he told me tales of his fertile, vibrant lands. It is moments like this that validate gaming for me: the ability to share unique, dynamic tales that come from the gameplay. None of what happened to me in Minecraft was scripted, and because every world is randomly generated, it cannot be replicated for me or anyone else. Whether I like it or not, this story is a memory now, but what is great gaming if not memorable?

There is an fascinating phenomenon when thousands of people share the same experience. Every person that has played through Final Fantasy 7 can commiserate on the finer points of Cloud's pointy hair or debate whether Tifa or Aeris was more boneable, but there is something entirely special about sharing a dynamic, personal experience. It is tougher to create an interesting narrative in a user-driven game like Minecraft. The player is given a sprawling set of mechanics and total freedom. Like tabletop RPGs, you only get out of the game what you put into it. However, with a small suspension of disbelief and a bit of imagination, you too can escape the drudgery of your everyday life and feel like a kid again.

There is room for this in all sorts of genres. Not every game has to be Minecraft to produce stories. Think about your favorite play from Madden (triple fumble for a touchdown) or the time that you killed the entire enemy team and recovered the flag. There is room for narrative in every gaming context, and it's important to capture these moments and savor them. I've played thousands upon thousands of hours of gaming, but all I have now are my memories. I could tell you all about the plot from the Metal Gear Solid series, but to be honest, I'd rather tell you about the time that I beat Metal Slug 2 with just one quarter.