Storyland

Storyland was found here (Elit Collection 1) and the description of Storyland is “The computer-generated combinatorial story is one of the oldest forms of digital writing. Storyland, with its simple circus frame, plays with this tradition by performing recombination of the sort seen in cut-up and in Oulipian work. The system repeatedly plots amusingly repetitive stories, inviting the reader to consider, to read its scheme for composition.  Author description: Storyland (version 2) is a randomly created narrative which plays with social stereotypes and elements of popular culture. Each sentence is constructed from a pool of possibilities, allowing each reader a unique story. The reader presses the “new story” button, and a story is created for that moment in time. It is unlikely that any two stories will be identical. Storyland exposes its narrative formula thus mirroring aspects of contemporary cultural production: sampling, appropriation, hybrids, stock content, design templates. It risks discontinuity and the ridiculous while providing opportunities for contemplation beyond the entertainment factor.”

Just clicking around to find something interesting, Storyland sparked my interest right off the bat because of the circus-like effect that it played on me.  I haven’t been to the circus in a long time, but I remember what it was like.  In a sense, it was kind of scary.  This seemed to have that same effect on me.  With the creepy music in the background and the black background, it just had an eeriness about it that I couldn’t rid myself of.  Here are a few examples of the creepy stories that it offers.

You can just keep clicking new story after new story and come up with a bunch of different of these types of stories to read.  I’m not sure why, but it was almost mesmerizing just reading through them.  I honestly wasn’t too interested in the stories but the fact that it was like one of those musical boxes.  First the music starts and the Storyland title flashes around.  Then the text appears almost on a timer and then it ends.  You can click on a new story after that or just be done.  The other works that I have come across this semester have been very interesting but on a different level.  Those pieces of electronic literature seem to be very strange in terms of structure.  A lot of flashing lights and strange symbols with weird music seem to be the majority of the previous works that I have dealt with.  This, however, does not contain any of that.  It’s just text, a little bit of music, and that’s it.  I believe that I enjoy it so much because of the simplicity that it really does offer.  There isn’t much to it other than rhythmic style.

The author described the stories as ‘unique’ which I believe is the only way too describe them. Some of them may not make a lot of sense, but I don’t think they were meant to be very whole.  I appreciate the oddness that the author provided in this piece and I would invite others to view this as well.  Electronic literature, obviously, is considered to be a ridiculous array of genres in terms of style.  There have been a lot of weird styles that I have come across, but nothing has drawn me in quite like this one.  It’s almost like it puts you in a trance.  You just kind of lose yourself in what is going on.  Maybe it’s the music.  Maybe it’s the flashing words in the beginning.  Maybe it’s the plainness that draws me in.  I’m not sure exactly, but I like it.  I do think that everyone should check this out even for a brief moment to see what I’m talking about.  I know that we could all benefit from having something refreshing in our life every once in a while.

The Story of Orville V. Wright

“The Human Mystery” by Alan Bigelow tells the fictional story of the socially anxious Harvard anthropology professor, Orville V. Wright. “The Human Mystery” does not fall neatly into any genre of electronic literature we’ve discussed, but I would say it’s most similar to hypertext. The story is made up of seven different sections accessed through a timeline menu; the reader drags an arrow along the timeline to select a segment. The sections can be accessed in any order and once finished  disappear from the screen. Each of the seven sections is named after a different stage in human evolution, starting with Prokaryota in the primordial ooze and ending with the Present Day. Every segment has two parts, one giving Professor Wright’s explanation and thoughts on the title organism and a second detailing Wright’s life as an academic and his failed marriage. The surprise end of the story is within a postscript section, I won’t spoil it for anyone.

The layout of every section features a text box on the right with arrows at the bottom allowing the reader to move forward or backward in the text. A large picture, which differs in every section sits on the left at some point throughout the text other images float or flash over this background picture. These can be controlled sometimes by clicking on footnotes in the text. The images that appear generally relate to text, such as the divorce paper that appears when Wright’s divorce is being discussed. Other times the images pop up to highlight an aspect of Wright’s story. The ability to control what text appears on the screen is similar to hypertext fiction’s use of links to move the story forward. In “The Human Mystery” the control is much more straightforward within the sections with only a right arrow to go forward, a left arrow to go backward, and a double human symbol indicating the end/beginning of the subsections. This is different than hypertexts such as Robert Kendall’s “Dispossession“ or Shelley Jackson’s “my body – a Wunderkammer” which have a large amount of narrative permutations depending on the order in which links are clicked. In “The Human Mystery” the sections can be accessed in any order the reader desires, but once inside a section the story is strictly linear, forwards or backwards. Although you can read the sections backwards, I would not advise it because the narrative is forwardly linear.

“The Human Mystery” is very different from the other works I’ve read/watched/experienced by Bigelow, “Brainstrips” (which I wrote about before) and “American Ghosts” (also covered on our blog). “The Human Mystery” can be seen as a dressed up version of a traditional text-only story with moving and still images compared to his other works.  ”Brainstrips” is a multi-genre work combining aspects of comics, hypertext, and kinetic typography. “American Ghosts” is a series of videos with text running along the bottom. Both “Brainstrips” and “American Ghosts” lack the cohesive narrative found in “The Human Mystery.” Instead they focus on the fallibility of human knowledge and the lives of people named after historical figures respectively through several different narratives.

One aspect all of these works share is the inclusion of background music and sounds. In “The Human Mystery” each section has a soundtrack relating to the title organism, for example the section on Homo habilis, an early tool-making hominid features a soundtrack made up of the workshop sounds of hammers and someone sanding. “The Human Mystery” soundtrack sets up a mood for each section that works well with the story, unlike in “Brainstrips” in which I turned off the sound halfway through because it distracted me from the story.

Interacting with Tierra de Extraccion

NOTE: The work I’m going to be talking about is in Spanish. I’ve read and translated parts of it, but it is a novel (with 67 chapters), so I decided that instead of writing an analytical blog post, I’d make a video of me interacting with the work and showing the way the author utilizes different media. As the author explains in the excerpt of the abstract provided below, the form of this work is as important as the content.

Excerpt from the abstract provided by Domenico Chiappe:

“The appropriate language for electronic media is yet to be created. Such a language should encompass the whole world of possibilities offered by the electronic environment. The multimedia novel project Tierra de Extracción looks for a language that encourages the reading of literature on a computer monitor. The multimedia writing combines the arts to find the ‘passive interaction’ of the reader–user, whose subconscious will blossom with the music, poetry, photography, drawings, and narration, and mixes it with the story. But this new kind of expression coming from a display that modifies all patterns of perception, interest and time also requires an interface that allows the user’s ‘active interaction’, which means the user will create the story as his or her interest and curiosity grow.”

ALSO: I’m sorry for all of my awkward pauses and um’s. I recorded this about 20 million times and this is the best version I got (it’s harder that I thought it would be to interact with something and talk about it at the same time!). To see the video, click on the link below and it should take you to another page where you can view it (I couldn’t figure out how to embed this filetype).

tierra2

Can You Hear Me Now?

While scrolling through the ELit blog page, I came across another ELit blog that caught my eye.  Shannotated wrote about the music in electronic literature (specifically, video games) and the significance it has.  This thought process struck a chord in me (get it?) and got me thinking about not just the music but all the sounds that go into a piece of electronic literature.

In video games, I considered how my experiences may have differed had there been a certain sound, or all the sounds, missing.  The ELit blog mentions the Legend of Zelda series, so I’ll bring that one into focus first.  One of the most well-known Zelda sounds is the ‘You Found…!’ noise that goes off when you open an extremely important chest or finally receive an item of utmost importance.  It is iconic to the Legend of Zelda series.  But what if there was no sound signifying an important action or discovery?  How would you know if you’re going in the right direction?  At points in the game, the only guiding light you have is the music.

I then began thinking of other electronic literature works, such as Colossal Cave Adventure.  It is just a text adventure and  thus lacking in any noise.  While playing through it, I found that I was never sure if I was going in the right direction.  I didn’t know if the items I picked up were important now, or if I needed to wait and come back for them, or if the item was important at all.  It made the game much more difficult than I originally thought it would be.  If, say, the Zelda series lacked that iconic ‘You Found…!’ noise, would that discover resonate as well as it does with the sound accompanying it?  In a way, the game industries are making it easier on the gamer by offering little hints like sound bites to tell you what to do next or that you just did something important.

In the Red Riding Hood piece that we explored for class, the jazzy music playing as you go through the story isn’t just fancy decoration.  I played through it the first time with the sound off, and while I understood the story and the theme behind it, it didn’t resonate with me.  When I played it again, speakers on, the music added a grungy feel that helped impose that feminist viewpoint.  The music has elements of jazz to it, but it also has a punk-ish style that emphasizes this new power Red has over the wolf.  She is tough, and grungy, and a punk, and will eat this wolf (or impregnate herself with him?) because she can.  With the music, the theme left an imprint on me that was unique to the feminine empowering message of this particular story.  Without it, it was just another feminist twist on an old fairytale.

Music plays such a role in electronic literature, beyond that of simply signifying important elements of a video game, that we don’t notice its effect until it’s gone.  You won’t realize that Link’s footsteps make different sounds on different surfaces until you can’t hear them anymore.  You don’t get the full meaning of Red Riding Hood until you hear the music playing in the background.  I never realized how satisfying it is to hear the crunch noise when you swing a hammer into  a guard’s face in Assassin’s Creed II: Brotherhood until I had to mute the sound.  Of course, it also goes both was.  Playing Colossal Cave Adventure with music playing in the background was strange.  It was distracting, because I was hearing songs so misplaced in the game’s context that I couldn’t focus on the words in front of me.  Electronic literature has come so far that it can implement music into our viewing/gaming experience, and the resulting effect is fantastic.  Not only does it play a significant role in telling us where to go, what to do, what we’ve been successful at, or what to feel, but it also makes the experience resonate.  It gives us an emotion to feel as we play, lyrics to expand on what we’re watching, background noise to an otherwise somewhat dull experience.

And, as with anything else, we associate between our senses.  Does the smell of clean laundry remind you of your mother?  If you have pasta for dinner, can you more easily remember the fancy Italian restaurant you went to last week?  If you hear a certain song, do you laugh because you remember it from a funny commercial?  If I hear that ‘You Found..!’ noise, I immediately smile or scowl depending on which memory of the game it brings to mind.  We hear the sound, we remember the game.  Maybe we’ll want to play the game again.  Maybe we’ll show it to a friend this time through, and they’ll like it so much that they’ll buy it.  It’s marketing genius, but more importantly it’s a sign that even the simplest sound in a game can affect our entire viewpoint on it.

Settling the Score – what does the music in games do?

After viewing Dak0ta this week in class, I started thinking more about the role music plays in a narrative.

Specifically, video games.

The way the music from Dak0ta accompanied the fast paced scrolling of the text really emphasized the intensity of the story.  Without the bouncy jazz music, my impression would have been a lot different.  Watching it without music made Dak0ta seem a lot more confusing and disjointed.  In my opinion, the music really brought it full circle and sealed the author’s intent.

 

Video game music works in the same way.  Imagine a video game without music.  There are some out there, but their lack of music is deliberate, such as in Limbo.  The sound director for  Limbo says  that: “For me it has a much bigger psychological impact when you turn a naturalistic soundscape into abstraction by making your sound effects play as “music” rather than adding some traditional background music.” (source).  A lot of players need music to feel as if they’re really immersed in their virtual environment.

I wanted to talk about four different types of music that I’ve noticed in popular games and what it does for the player.

 

1. Battle music

The song in the video is from one of my personal favorite franchises, the Legend of Zelda.  It’s played during small-scale battles with various creatures that you run into and evokes an intense feeling of adrenaline.  The fast paced tempo accompanied with notes that seem to flutter and “jump” around really solidify the idea of a fight.  Once this music kicks on, it takes you from a state of neutral exploration to one of desperation and survival.

2. Scenery/Setting changes

Arguably the best music of it’s time, Super Mario 3 has a great score that really takes you to a different world.  In this video, the Underwater theme sounds as if it’s actually being listened to while you’re in water.  It kicks on when you go from land to sea, thereby changing the perspective of the player from one of land-based play to that of underwater, which uses a different style of controls.  The music helps to transition from one setting to another.

 

3. “Hey, this is important”  or “you did something awesome”

Skyrim contains such a vast amount of possibilities and quest lines that no doubt was it difficult to construct a specific score.  However, during dragon battles, a totally new type of music begins.  While this example is similar to example one, there are differences.  As the Dovahkiin, your biggest mission in the game is to eliminate the dragon threat.  Every dragon battle is essentially a boss fight and they are very important to furthering the main storyline of the game.  The end, where you defeat the dragon (not included in this video) produces a loud crescendo that signifies your victory and accumulation of the dragon’s soul.  A lot of games use music that is seemingly louder and more intense to show an important event in the storyline.

 

4. Suspense or fear

I’m not particularly a fan of horror games (in short, they scare me) but I recognize the importance that their soundtrack has.  The feeling of fear that creepy string music produces only adds to the creepiness of the gameplay itself.  Lots of games (such as F.E.A.R and Resident Evil) use this technique to signify that something scary is about to happen.