What's in a game?

If you look at my bookshelves (or have seen the reviews I write for Books we Like), you'll know that I'm quite partial to near future science fiction. I wouldn't go so far as to call them dystopian novels, although they're not often glowing depictions of the future (but that would probably make for a boring narrative). So it's not surprising that I'm writing about another story in this theme. Set twenty years in the future, The Last of Us describes an America where the human population has been ravaged by a fungal parasite that overwhelms the brain, driving all infected to attack and kill anyone they come across. Most of the uninfected people live in quarantine zones in the remnants of cities, where their lives are tightly controlled by the military. Outside of these zones, pockets of survivors attempt to develop their own communities whilst defending themselves from the infected and the dangers of a lawless society. The story follows Joel, a smuggler, as he unwillingly escorts teenage Ellie across the country in search of an organisation called the Fireflies.

So far so good, but there's one major difference with this story - it's actually a computer game, not a book. The Last of Us was created by the incomparable Naughty Dog studio who developed the brilliant Uncharted series; as such they're no strangers to games which focus on the narrative as much as the technology. But The Last of Us takes the depth of engagement to a whole new level. Uncharted is like watching an action movie starring your favourite hero - it's entertaining but you watch it at a distance. In contrast, The Last of Us is like reading a book that you can't put down - you are completely drawn into that world.

Some of that is the outstanding visuals. From cities where nature is slowly reclaiming its territory to makeshift hideouts where people have made a desperate last stand - the post-apocalypse has never looked so beautiful and yet so bleak. But mostly, it's through engaging with the characters. Both Joel and Ellie have painful histories which colour both their attitude to and interaction with each other. Neither are saints though, nor figures of pity, and it's this complexity that brings them to life. For all the computer gaming that I've done I can honestly say that I've never felt emotionally invested in what is fundamentally a bunch of pixels. And the ending, when it came, was heart-wrenchingly painful. It probably breaks all the rules in how to finish a game but is perfectly imperfect, and hence believable. So, if asked what my favourite story of 2013 is, I might have to admit that it's not a book at all. But what a game...

Revisiting value

Capturing memories in the rain at Orchard Roots

Some brief reflections on the Know your Bristol project that I wrote for the project blog.

My first post on the Know your Bristol project focused on memory and its value.  So it's quite fitting that, nearly two years later, I'm returning to the same thoughts about what we consider to be of value.  We had a big team gathering the other day and my colleague Nate spoke about the idea of ephemeral value and instrumental value.  The digitised objects and photos, and the oral histories that we have gathered during Know your Bristol all have ephemeral value - that is they are valued because they are there and people can see them, share them, enjoy them.  But many of them also have instrumental value as they are being used by people, amongst other things to help inform decisions.  My colleague Pete explained how many planning applications that he sees in his role at Bristol City Council have incorporated elements of Know Your Place - not just the maps but the images and memories as well.  So it's clear that these stories and images have a value, and a life, beyond our project here.