For many gamers, casual and serious, immersive narrative in a video game means about as much as clever screenwriting in film; people just don’t care. Give them guns and explosions and Michael Bay-esque gameplay and they’ll willfully give you their life savings. For these people, to varying degrees, cut scenes are the designers way of giving the player a minute or two to check their text messages or put the controller down to eat a snack. And as much as I disagree with this play style, it’s entirely acceptable. Although it might not be exactly how the developers intended for their work to be played, if it provides satisfaction to the player, then it’s successful. Even in film and novels, or any form of communication for that matter, what we say, write, or photograph is never going to be received by our communication partner (audience) in the exact way we intended for it to be. But we create art because it stimulates and entertains.

For a smaller set of game enthusiasts, including myself, narrative is just as important as rule set, art style, or any other facet of a particular game. When I skip a cut scene, it is nearly always an accident. I analyze narrative with a fine tooth comb and appreciate all the little things that give a game’s plot suspense and satisfaction. Narrative, present or not, is not necessary to get enjoyment from a game, but for people like me, narrative is a love affair we’ll never get over. And I’d be willing to bet people who follow a plot line with dedication often walk away from the game with a greater appreciation for the art produced.

Just the other day I decided I’d take a long overdue trip back to New Austin, and roam the western territory as the gritty, morally confused outlaw, John Marston. I realized I’d never actually beaten Red Dead Redemption when I’d played it back in 2010, and it was definitely not an experience I wanted to pass up. If the rough and tumble badassery of No Country For Old Men was adapted to a video game and set in 1911, Red Dead would be that game.

So there I was, walking around the dusty, wild town of Armadillo when I took a minute to approach a gentleman loitering outside of the train station on a shoddy wooden platform. I tipped my hat and greeted him kindly. He inquired about me purchasing one of his newspapers for sale, and for a measly dollar, I obliged. I opened the paper (No. 000053, the first of many available issues as time goes on in the game) and read the emboldened letters across the header, “The Blackwater Ledger”. Throughout the paper, blocks of advertisements were precariously placed between current event articles.

Barrington Apollo Steel Straight Razor

“Guaranteed to make light and pleasant work of the stiffest of beards or tax collectors.”

Great Mandarin Washing Machine

“No more rubbing or paddling. A wonderful gift for the wife.”

Jolly Jack’s Plug Tobacco

“For a chew that lasts ‘til the cows come home.”

Found in Issue No. 000053

All of these well thought out advertisements are subtle satirical genius and help evoke a feeling of immersion through cultural and period accuracy. For many players, the newspaper may seem like an aimless feature added by the developers for atmospheric purposes. These players would be correct in their assumption that the paper creates atmosphere, but it is certainly not aimless. The advertisements alone are incredibly well written and without a doubt took much effort to realize, but when the player takes a moment to read any of the game-world relevant articles, the real design magic is exposed.

The articles do two things: they offer narrative foreshadowing for the player, and they help frame the player within the overall established universe. The latter is a topic for another day.

Narrative foreshadowing when attempted by the novice writer or designer can implode any chances of building suspense or investment. On the other hand, when done properly (subtly yet memorably), foreshadowing can provide the audience with a sense of accomplishment from their narrative discovery or give them that, “Ah-ha!” moment. I find this situation is most successful when the foreshadowing is crafted off the beaten path; meaning, the player must explore the world and the experiences it has to offer outside of the main plot line. This makes the player feel the discovery came about through their individual playthrough rather than feeling as if the developer held their hand and intentionally guided them through the process.

After opening the paper and scanning the brilliant advertisements, I moved along to the articles, some of which have the intent of providing meta-narrative and foreshadowing relevant to the main plot, while others have the intention of generating atmosphere. Article titles read:

Williamson Gang Reign of Terror

(very relevant to the central narrative arc)

Humorist Cracks Jokes, Arrives

(relevant to optional series of side missions)

People Missing in Cholla Springs

(relevant to optional series of side missions involving cannibals… tasty!)

Grave Robber Captured, But Crimes Persist

(relevant to central narrative arc)

I decided to read the article regarding grave robbers.

“Residents of Armadillo are baffled by the mysterious and somewhat repugnant case of Moses Forth.”

The article goes on to talk about the arrest of Moses Forth, a man presumed to be singularly responsible for a series of grave robberies and desecrations throughout the West over the past couple of years.

“Following his arrest, however, there has been a further outbreak of graveyard de-secrations, leading to anxieties about who else is committing this most vile act.”

Great article, short, well-written, compelling. I thought nothing more of it after I closed the paper and went about my way into the Wild West. Maybe an hour or two later, I’m directed by a primary character known as Nigel West Dickens (a snake oil salesman and ‘Class-A’ con artist) to a location known as Coot’s Chapel. I’m told that there I’ll meet an interesting fellow named Seth. Upon arriving at the chapel, just South East of Armadillo, I meet him. “Interesting” was an understatement. I find a bone-thin man with ragged, dirty clothing, bloodied, chapped lips and missing teeth, six feet under frisking the body of a dead man in an exhumed grave. I question his identity and his responses repeatedly deflect my inquiry. It’s immediately obvious he’s mentally unstable, and this makes for a damn great character. His personal story is unveiled through a few lines of well-written dialogue where I attempt to enlist his help in assaulting a gang fortress. After a fit of maniacal laughter, Seth clues me in on his situation:

“My partner! He stole half my map! I never would’ve did this to him. Never!”

The gears begin to chug along in my brain, and I realize: I know who his partner is. He doesn’t even have to tell me. Seth is the one responsible for the continued grave robberies, all in search of this “map” he keeps mentioning. In that moment I went from sitting on the side of the narrative pool with my legs dangling in the water, to jumping off the highest diving board into the deep end, backwards. Forget the lifeguard. I was above the rules. I had beaten the writer to the punchline. I was ahead of the plot for hours and I hadn’t even realized it. This is what foreshadowing can accomplish.

If I hadn’t put in the ten minutes it required for me to holster my revolver and read the latest edition of the paper, this plot would’ve been an above average experience (because Red Dead is incredibly well-written), but because I put in the time, this experience evolved into one I won’t forget for a very long time, and one that got me thinking one of the most compelling and exciting questions a game can elicit, “What else is out there for me to discover?”