This is a 6000-word essay that I submitted for a course in EFL University, Hyderabad. I also presented this in a Game Studies Adda (now DiGRA India).
Witcher 2 in a Postmodern Context: Examining Ergodic Extremes of Cybertexts
John Fowles’s The French Lieutenant’s Woman is an archetypal postmodern text for several reasons, of which the most important one, I think, is its triple ending. The novel ends with Fowles—who, as author, interjects multiple times by breaking the fourth wall with his own views, consciously interrupting the reading experience—asserting that the story ends in three ways. He flips a coin and allows chance to dictate which ending shall be presented first, and he narrates the two endings after it. The reader is left to choose which resolution they prefer.
Contrary to popular interpretation, I do not think that the aim of The French Lieutenant’s Woman was to simply offer readers their own climax to the tale depending on their subjective preference. That may, of course, have been one of the aims. However, it is likely that the primary aim was to point to the sheer absurd fictional nature of this narrative, to the absurdity of narratives in general and to the disproportionate authority historically afforded to authors, by depicting the non-existence of this story in real, concrete life via the frivolity of its climax(es). The book never explicitly states, “Turn to page xyz if you would like to read the second ending”, suggesting no real effort in truly offering the reader katharsis. The assumption is that the reader will, in confusion at the relative novelty of the genre, consume the text by reading both endings, thus completing an unconventional narrative in a conventional manner. This parodic view toward storytelling integrity is found multiple times in the book’s writing style, its nonlinearity, its self-referential nature, its playfully embedded narratives or its general attempts at resisting categorization, which I believe supports this interpretation.
One suspects that The French Lieutenant’s Woman maintains this parodic, distant and neutral nature with respect to this theme because it was one of the first of its type, and might have been testing the waters instead of taking a deep dive into the genre. This book was published in 1969, around the time postmodernist themes had not been as deeply explored; a time when reader-centric, choice-based narratives were yet a relative novelty. The present day is much different, of course: Packard’s “Choose Your Own Adventure” genre or the interactive film Black Mirror: Bandersnatch are but few examples that illustrate the growing appetite for such stories in the imagination of pop culture.
Ergodic Literature
Of course, any attempts to explore multiple choices and endings by books or by theatre are simply incomparable in scale and medium to videogames. Cybertexts (as they are sometimes termed) posit themselves as ontologically different from prose, poetry, film or television narratives, and one must turn to Chapter One of Espen Aarseth’s Cybertext: Perspectives on Ergodic Literature to apprehend the essential differences. The cybertext, according to Aarseth, retains its uniqueness through its emphasis on ergodic literature; a form of narrative that prioritizes the reader’s traversing of the text. In the case of books or films, ergodic literature would manifest itself only in ambiguous meaning and the subjective interpretation of readers, which is to say that two people, upon consuming the same text, can interpret, say, the character of Charles Smithson in two different ways. What sets game studies aside is the emphasis of ergodicity not in ambiguous meaning but variable expression. Aarseth, in his Introduction, elaborates:
The cybertext reader is a player, a gambler; the cybertext is a game-world or world-game; it is possible to explore, get lost, and discover secret paths in these texts, not metaphorically, but through the topological structures of the textual machinery. This is not a difference between games and literature but rather between games and narratives (Aarseth, 1997, p.4).
While the primary text of this essay is a choice-based RPG, it must be noted that ergodicity is applicable to all forms of cybertexts. Even FPS games without intricate overarching narratives such as Mario or Counter-Strike have ergodicity in strategy and execution. While even the most postmodern written text would keep a reader in a certain state of powerlessness i.e. of mostly remaining a passenger, voyeur or interpreter of the tale, the cybertext reader directly delves into the action of the story, confronting the risk of rejection through failure of completing the story’s quests. This essential difference forms the rock upon which game studies builds its church. This is also the reason The Witcher 2: Assassins of Kings (henceforth Witcher 2) is a pivotal visual text in this argument.
Cybertexts As Narrative
Witcher 2 was released in 2011, when choices in side-quests or in the main quest were not uncommon; after all, The Witcher (2007), the first game in the Witcher trilogy, also employs this technique. Its game developers CD Projekt Red have always been keen to emphasize the importance of choice in the Witcher trilogy, till the extent that one can play Witcher 2 by loading story choices from The Witcher, and one can play The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt as a continuation of story choices from Witcher 2. In Witcher 2, the weight of consequences that rest on the gamer’s choices is unprecedented for its time, making it a notable benchmark in the brief history of videogames.
Before any analysis of Witcher 2 may proceed, it must be acknowledged that some game theorists believe that it is fundamentally incorrect to subsume cybertexts simply to “narratives” and, consequently, it is an incomplete exercise to apply narrative theories to games (more on that anon). However, even if one assumes this is not the case—even if one casts the unique ergodicity of cybertexts aside and compares them to books, films, etc. on the basis of traditional literary criticism—cybertexts yet easily compete, and often supersede other forms of narrative.
Take the example of Aristotle’s six tenets of storytelling: plot, character, thought, diction, music and spectacle [1]. While plot and character in cybertexts are often contingent on its ergodicity, making its comparison with books more of apples with oranges, it would be fair to suggest that thought, diction and music and spectacle are somewhat commensurable with game studies as opposed to traditional forms of narrative. Let’s engage in a quick comparison:
Thought: The concept, knowledge and moral centre of the type of literature concerned—which Aristotle terms “thought”—is, I think, immaterial in relation to its medium of portrayal. Cybertexts, books, films or any other forms of narrative are equally capable of justifying their concept, as they are of undermining it. It is simply an issue of execution.
Diction: Since voiceover artists hired by videogames have multiple opportunities to appropriately represent the class and status of their character i.e. perfect their accents with the help of retakes, and since audio editing software is more than capable of tweaking their accents to the required direction, diction in videogames holds a permanent qualitative advantage over diction in dramas. However skilled or experienced a theatre actor might be, after lights turn off and curtains unfold, they are offered but one chance to deliver their dialogues, thus keeping them in perpetual disadvantage to the videogame industry. Books and poetry, being mute, can also not compare. A critic like Coleridge might argue that the possession of the reader’s divine Imagination suggests that imagining a voice is better than actually listening to it. However, this is a redundant argument, since many games also offer a codex, or quest journal, written in a particular style as part of its structure. In Witcher 2 itself quest journals are written by Dandelion—a bard-like NPC who chronicles the adventures of the avatar—and one can also collect several books and letters around the story-world written by NPCs; in their subjective diction and style.
Music: The advantage that cybertexts hold over other forms of narrative is similar in the case of music, where game developers are in the privileged position of curating their content over multiple retakes. Videogames are also capable of triggering specific songs at specific moments, which means that music for specific maps, for combat or stealth modes, for boss fights, etc. is a specialized, automatic process.
Spectacle: This is a double-edged sword. On the one hand, since cybertexts simulate an entire game-world, game developers are practically capable of designing anything within the bounds of their imagination. That may not be the case with the stage—or, in most cases, even the silver screen—where production would have to consider size, feasibility, budget, audience, etc. with much more caution than games. On the other hand, cybertexts remain a fundamentally artificial, computerized medium. This means that many may prefer a spectacle from a mundane yet material world than from a digitized, computerized medium. At any rate, the lack of commensurability in comparing the spectacle of cybertexts with that of theatre, film or books, further shows the resistance of cybertexts to narrative theory.
Witcher 2: Plot and Character
While cybertexts have an edge over other narrative forms in diction and music (thought being irrelevant), the incommensurability with respect to spectacle is merely the tip of the iceberg in terms of the list of differences between it and purely narrative mediums. If spectacle posed a problem in comparison, plot and character are different kettles of fish.
Take plot, for instance. To summarize the complicated story of Witcher 2 as briefly as possible, the gamer’s avatar is Geralt of Rivia, a witcher (monster-slayer) in an epic fantasy world based on the books of Andrzej Sapkowski. Witcher 2 is divided into the Prologue, Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three and the Epilogue, with each chapter covering a different game-world. In the Prologue, you aid King Foltest in his conquest of Temeria, but his assassination forces you to flee to the city of Flotsam, where Chapter One begins. The crux of this chapter’s story is Geralt pursuing the kingslayer Letho while slaying monsters for money.
So far, Witcher 2 reads like most interactive RPGs of its time. While it has dialogue options in the Prologue as well as in Chapter One, primary story beats remain constant, with major consequences only in side-quests. Thus far, regardless of the gamer’s choices, King Foltest will die, Geralt will be imprisoned and he will have to escape to Flotsam with his companions Vernon Roche and Triss Merigold. However, the end of Chapter One (specifically, after the assassin Letho kidnaps Geralt’s love interest Triss) presents the avatar with a massive story decision. Geralt can side with Vernon—a hard-nosed, honest and dutiful Temerian loyalist who “has a plan”—or side with Iorveth—a renegade leader of the oppressed elves who “needs your help” (CD Projekt Red, 2011).
Witcher 2 has 46 paths and ways to completing its quests, but the magnitude of this particular choice is where it earns its coin, and there are several reasons why. Firstly, each side will have a few main quests and a cluster of side-quests that the other side does not offer. The sheer quantity of content the gamer is guaranteed to miss out on adds to the weight of the choice. Secondly, each side unlocks a separate story-world, a separate city, that cannot be accessed completely if one chooses the other side. Thirdly, there are within Chapter Two itself multiple choices that will change the character arcs of important NPCs.
Fourthly, neither Roche nor Iorveth share too many details of unfolding quests until after the gamer makes their decision. Both characters have been portrayed with utmost sensitivity and nuance, and Witcher 2 makes it clear that neither holds any definite moral ground over the other, thus making Geralt’s choice a true leap of faith. On this, gameplay producer Marek Ziemak, in an interview with Gamasutra, speaks:
…we started thinking, “What can we give to the players? What can we take away from them based on their decisions?” And this seemed like a pretty cool thing -- that they will have to make their own decisions, what they want to see, and take the costs of their decisions […] We’re trying to make it as gray as possible. We never have choices between good and evil (Nutt, 2012).
Even the themes of the story (not to mention the entire second act) change drastically according to the gamer’s choice. Roche takes you to Aedirn to aid King Henselt and the sorcerer Dethmold in their conquest of Vergen, in exchange for Henselt’s help in finding Letho and Triss. This path is characterized with political intrigue, betrayal and careful setup for the third Witcher instalment. Choosing Iorveth, conversely, takes Geralt to Vergen, where he helps peasant leader Saskia defend Vergen from Henselt. In this story Geralt sides with the underdogs, the oppressed, and participates in a more straightforward, battle. The trade-off, however, is that Iorveth’s path does not elaborate on important characters (Iorveth himself is not a character in Witcher 3). Regardless of the path chosen, Chapter Three will conclude in the city of Loc Muinne, but available quests and endings differ not only based on the choice taken between Roche and Iorveth, but also by choices taken within their separate storylines. Suffice it to say, in Witcher 2, changes in plot structure and character arcs could not be more contingent on choice. Even your typical choice-based RPG like Kingdom Come: Deliverance (2018), released seven years after Witcher 2, does not branch out nearly as much in story choices.
Witcher 2 As Simulation
These changes to the fundamental elements of the story (i.e. to plot and character) is, I think, partly the reason Gonzalo Frasca, in Simulation versus Narrative: Introduction to Ludology dismisses games as equivalent to narratives. For Frasca, a narrative is relatively restricted since it structures form and content on representation. However, in a simulation the story is capable of generating its own signs based on its existing model. This is to say that the gamer can choose the multiple ways to defeat their opponent, or the multiple ways of completing a quest. The semiotics of simulation (termed “simitiocs”) is therefore much more layered and diverse than in narratives, due to its heavy incorporation of the consumer. (Frasca, 2003, p.224).
Let’s not be mistaken: Frasca is not saying that narratives and simulations are two different, mutually exclusive entities. Games (especially choice-based RPGs) are narratives, but due to the nature of their ergodicity they are also so much more, and these other features are incorporated into the all-encompassing word “simulation”.
Witcher 2 is in a unique, somewhat precarious position with respect to simitiocs. On the one hand, its unparalleled scale of ergodicity has already been aforementioned. On the other hand, despite its attempts at maximizing choice and consequence, since the game is a precursor to Witcher 3, certain events must occur beyond the gamer’s control for its successive instalment to make story sense. I am primarily referring to the chaos caused in northern realms that sets the stage for the Nilfgaardian invasion and for the Wild Hunt’s arrival. Witcher 2 chronicles those very machinations, betrayals and murders that leads to the northern realms descending into anarchy.
Of the four kings Demavend, Foltest, Henselt and Radovid, it is impossible to rescue Demavend and Foltest. Radovid, who appears at the final chapter, cannot be killed, since he is crucial to the story of Witcher 3. The only king whose fate is in the gamer’s hand is Henselt (only in Roche’s path). Geralt can either choose to let Roche kill him as revenge for his entire unit’s extermination (with the exception of a girl Ves, whom Henselt rapes). Or, Geralt can stop Roche from killing Henselt on the grounds that he is the only northern monarch capable of resisting the Nilfgaardian invasion. Developers tactfully nudge the gamer toward killing Henselt. At the time of decision, Geralt is faced with three conversational choices: 1. “He’s yours, Roche” 2. “Let him go, Roche” and 3. “You raped Ves” (CD Projekt Red, 2011).
The third choice triggers a conversation where Henselt brags about his power and villainy. It is clearly designed to instigate the gamer into killing him, since writers know that Henselt’s death makes greater logical sense for the third installation. Letting Henselt live is thoroughly unrewarding, as it only unlocks an alternative cutscene. Geralt will not interact with Henselt in Witcher 2 regardless, not to mention that in Witcher 3, it is stated in a brief sentence that Radovid betrays Henselt and kills him. In addition, the Nilfgaardian invasion continues as planned.
Regardless of Geralt’s choices, it is impossible to avoid chaos in northern realms. This intentionally restrictive feature of Witcher 2 is but part-and-parcel of simitiocs in several interactive RPGs. We have already explored that simulations are narratives with additional features. Of those, the aforementioned example of Henselt fall under “manipulation rules”. Manipulation rules denote the independence of the gamer within the game’s model. They are not instrumental to a win/ lose scenario, which is to say that while Geralt can choose to let Henselt live or die, either choice will entail him to eventually complete the game. Manipulation rules denote the gamer’s freedom to “manipulate” events within the boundaries of the simitiocs. However, I believe this manipulation is twofold. Look at the example Frasca uses to explain this concept:
… in Grand Theft Auto III (GTA III) it is possible to shoot prostitutes in order to get money after having sex with them. Even if many people were disgusted by this possibility, it is essential to point out that this is not the goal of the game (Frasca, 2003, p.230).
This choice, I think, is within the gamer’s free will only in appearance. In truth, the gamer knows full well that killing the NPC will trigger a script wherein the avatar can collect his money back, whereas the alternative triggers no script. When one choice guarantees additional gaming content and another choice guarantees nothing, most gamers will naturally choose the former, in exact accordance to the manipulations of developers. Even a vast game like Witcher 2—which probably created enough story for two walkthroughs—must maintain an illusion of choice [2]. This implies—to me, at least—that even cybertexts that have maximized their ergodic spaces are caught within certain boundaries of storytelling, and that they must resort to this illusion of choice to pretend its non-existence.
This point needs to be explored from the gamer’s perspective. Two concepts aid in this regard. The first is from Frasca, who explores the duality of “paidia” and “ludus”, while the second is Janet Murray’s views on the more commonly known concept of immersion. (Frasca, 2003, p.228).
Paidia denotes free play, referring to that constructive, exploratory spirit in children. In the case of Witcher 2, it may denote what the gamer does in between quests i.e. exploring the story-world, reading character bios for leisure, playing mini-games like dice poker or killing NPCs for entertainment. Paidia is not necessary for the game’s win/ lose scenario and it is perhaps the freest a gamer is allowed to be. Ludus, on the contrary, denotes those games with social and choice-based rules that directly contribute to the win/ lose scenario. In Witcher 2, then, these denote main quests and important side quests that must be completed to defeat the game. Of course, in Witcher 2 the player is offered variable expression in the form of multiple choices and endings, but the gamer cannot explore beyond the finite endings prescribed by the developers. Ludology is a twofold concept in my view, since it must be fully appreciated not only in the finite ergodic spaces afforded by game developers, but also by the consumer in the context of immersion.
Consumer and Creator: Beyond the Simulation
Throughout the history of narratives, there have been several arguments over its essential purpose. Narratives may be used for imitation, pleasure, instruction, pure aestheticism, horror, etc., depending on whichever critic one prefers. This conundrum not only applies to all forms of narrative, but also to simulation models like videogames. If one, then, were to dare to categorize most of the potential answers offered by critics under one singular umbrella, then it seems that any form of literature must, on some level, exist in relation to material reality to maintain relevance. The literature may parody the world, valorize it, narrate entirely subjective experiences or create completely fantastical worlds, but it must be tethered to the material world in some way. Even the dragon in Beowulf symbolizes chaos and the fictional dwarves in Witcher 2 symbolize the condition of Jews.
Witcher 2, then, like any other game, is in the business of appealing to its consumers. Unlike postmodern texts like The French Lieutenant’s Woman, however, mainstream videogames have not yet reached the point of being increasingly self-referential, of Brechtian alienation, etc. Even game studies are acutely aware that they are not approaching a postmodernist stage in their literature and literary criticism. Here’s Frasca justifying his structural terms:
… formalism is not the flavour of the month in these post-everything times. Certainly, formal approaches are limited –and ludologists should always keep that in mind– but they are probably the easiest way to uncover the structural differences between stories and games. I personally see this structural approach as a first, necessary step in game studies… (Frasca, 2003, p.232).
The many ways the gamer manipulate the simitiocs directly impacts any game’s ergodic boundaries. For the immersed gamer, Witcher 2 is ideal. As Janet Murray in Chapter Four of Hamlet on the Holodeck: The Future of Narrative in Cyberspace observes, immersed gamers not only engage in willing suspension of disbelief (a term borrowed from Coleridge), but also actively create belief to enjoy the simulation model. They use intelligence derived from the real, concrete world, to reinforce their immersion instead of questioning the experience, which they have become wont to do in other forms of narrative. This may be because—according to Sherry Turkle’s findings—simitiocs give uninhibited access to emotions, thoughts and behaviours that are otherwise completely closed to the gamer in material life. The end result is that an immersed gamer makes the conscious choice of withholding their skeptic, scientific attitude honed in the concrete world, for the sake of enjoying the visual text. Ultimately, Witcher 2 rewards gamers for their immersion. Gamers inclined to paidia may discover hidden side-quests, easter eggs like Iorveth’s hideout or complete main quests in a way that was the primary path intended by game developers.
Another point on immersion relates to haptics. Most cybertexts—and, of course, Witcher 2 is no exception—require the gamer to click and tap the right buttons on the controller, or keyboard and mouse, to progress, be it in combat mode, stealth mode or merely walking. A left-click is meant to represent Geralt swinging a sword, “Q” triggers a Witcher Sign, etc. There is, therefore, more willing suspension of disbelief on the part of the consumer, who recognizes that the world of simulation—despite being much greater in scale to traditional narratives—is yet not absolute. The gamer is not themselves wet when Geralt is swimming, and they do not palpitate after a gruesome combat session. This is a far cry from a game like Wii Tennis, for instance, where the gamer must physically swing their hand to hit a virtual tennis ball.
But what of the non-immersed gamer? A sizeable demography purchases games not for its intricate plot, character or moral overtones, but for simple entertainment. They are more prone toward ludus than toward ludus and paidia, thus making them likely to skip cutscenes, avoid reading letters, character bios, etc. In Witcher 2, some of this content is crucial even to ludus in the form of puzzles (understanding the ritual order in “The Blood Curse” comes to mind), thus blurring the lines between paidia and ludus, but everyone knows that non-immersed gamers can simply browse GamerWalkthroughs or YouTube to speed-run through the more cranial elements.
Having said that, developers of Witcher 2 use manipulation rules to attempt the incorporation of both types of consumers. For instance, in an errand quest, Geralt needs to speak to Vergen’s alderman to get the keys to a closed mineshaft and retrieve an immortelle (plant). When he meets him at the inn, the alderman initially invites Geralt to drink with him. Geralt has two options: “1. I need to find an immortelle first”, and “2. Let’s drink” (CD Projekt Red, 2011). The second option triggers a lengthy cutscene wherein various side characters discuss the chapter’s premise, the overarching story and the game-world, while the first option skips Geralt directly to the quest. There are many similar story choices scattered throughout Witcher 2, where one choice is meant for the non-immersed, and one meant for the immersed. [3]
Witcher 2, like most games, exists in this “double space” of postmodernism and non-postmodernism. It is postmodern in its non-linearity, its intermittent subversion of the epic fantasy genre and of course its story choices. However, it also recognizes that it is a commodity that must appeal to a wider target audience to survive in the ruthless gaming industry, which means the videogame must be playable for non-immersive consumers. The game’s ergodicity thus becomes constrained also to the consumer.
At the end of the day, immersion into a simulated world is a key requirement for the success of videogames, for it taps into its ergodic element, which is its product differentiation. However, there are technological and cultural barriers to immersion that cannot be ignored. While technological barriers have been largely overviewed in this essay, cultural barriers pose a moral dilemma that, I think, is worth considering.
It is obvious that increasing ergodic spaces in any game is tantamount to increasing workload on game developers. After all, if one wants to increase the number of paths, quests, story-worlds, etc. one invariably requires greater manpower and/ or longer working hours. As a result, crunch culture has become endemic in Triple-A companies where wealth is skewed in favour of upper management while engineers, animators, programmers and low-level designers struggle to make ends meet despite working overtime, oftentimes for free. While the capitalist videogame industry is booming in the past two decades, aided with the boom in technology and aggregate demand, the social issues it creates in its wake are simultaneously booming.
The industry, being in its relatively nascent stages, may still not be at the stage Marx chronicles in Chapter 25 of Capital: Volume One, where capitalist accumulation is now a regularity, a spiral, and proletarian wages have only marginally increased to loosen their golden chain. That is a later stage of capitalism which videogame industry has not yet reached, since its workers have not yet unionized to demand higher pay!
Furthermore, much like the film industry, this issue is somewhat complicated by the product. “Simulation” is a sensitive term in any essay on postmodernism, for it quickly reminds one of Baudrillard’s theories on representation and the simulacrum. As we know, Baudrillard, in The Precession of Simulacra opines that any map, model, object, etc. that is initially meant to represent or reflect basic reality (like the Bible represents the preaching of Jesus) begins to mask or replace this reality. The result is that the referent turns into a simulacrum, an object that gradually stops bearing resemblance to reality altogether. It is not long before more simulacrum models are built on this inherently simulated model. Here’s Baudrillard on Disneyland:
… it is a play of illusions and phantasms: Pirates, the Frontier, Future World, etc. This imaginary world is supposed to be what makes the operation successful. But what draws the crowds is undoubtedly much more the social microcosm, the miniaturized and religious revelling in real America, in its delights and drawbacks… In this imaginary world the only phantasmagoria is in the inherent warmth and affection of the crowd… The contrast with the absolute solitude of the parking lot – a veritable concentration camp – is total (Baudrillard, 1983, p.413).
Baudrillard’s primary issue that the simulation is triumphing the real may be seen in the videogame industry. CD Projekt Red are often credited for their stances of being anti-DRM’s, anti-micro-transactions and anti-crunch culture. Unlike Triple-A companies like EA and Ubisoft, who are rightfully (and not often enough) criticized for their abusive, corrupt and nepotistic cultures, CD Projekt Red are in good graces of most gaming cultures. However, during development of Witcher 3 (2015) and of Cyberpunk 2077 (2020), reports and quotes emerged that CD Projekt Red had caved on their principles. Here’s a Witcher 3 developer on the work culture, in an article titled CD Projekt Red Developers Speak Up on the Realities of Working on Witcher 3 and Cyberpunk 2077:
‘When in Bioware they said they had a 3 months’ crunch. We laughed. During the Witcher 3, a lot of people crunched for over a year, some of them for 3 years. The Witcher 3 development kept getting worse by the month. The morale got very low and everyone ended up complaining during crunch supper… When we finally started switching to Cyberpunk… things got even wilder, even more chaotic’ (Morris, 2017).
Despite CD Projekt Red proving themselves to be no better than most Triple-A companies when it comes to crunch culture, dominant discourse did not criticize them nearly as much, and the reason was not beyond the fact that they hitherto enjoyed their products. Witcher 3 winning Game of the Year, coupled with the high expectations for Cyberpunk 2077—which, lest we forget, are essentially simulated models that offer 40-50 hours of entertainment—dominated the conversation over the real, concrete pitiful condition of most of its creators. It was only after Cyberpunk 2077 released to multiple bugs and negative reviews (which is to say, after the quality of the product was put into interrogation) that these subjugated discourses became a greater object of focus, and perhaps played a hand in forcing CD Projekt Red to promise full bonuses to its workers, when it had initially structured extra pay on the basis of the game’s critical performance.
Conclusions
A summation of the arguments discussed:
The greater the ergodicity, the more incommensurable cybertexts become to conventional books, movies, etc. While the latter are narratives, cybertexts are simulations which incorporate narrative along with manipulation rules, goal rules and meta-rules (the license for fellow gamers to create mods). In addition, wherever cybertexts compare with narratives on parameters of traditional literary criticism, they are generally superior.
The Witcher 2: Assassins of Kings is a primary example of the simitiocs maximising the ergodic space of choice/ consequence. This not only shows that, despite being a relatively new form of literature, cybertexts are more postmodern in consumer participation, it also shows that videogames are a natural evolution in the postmodern genre.
Ergodic extremes are often faced with boundaries. Aside from budgetary constraints that invariably hamstring all visual forms of art, Witcher 2 needed to account for boundaries concerning haptics and the story of Witcher 3. It attempted manipulation rules with the consumer to maintain its illusion of choice. The existence of virtual reality suggests that videogames are likely not the final, supreme stage of ergodic evolution.
Immersion is arguably the best way to consume cybertexts, but could also be a harbinger for a postmodern society that prioritizes artificial, simulated worlds over the realities behind their creation. The aim is not to tout the horns of communist revolution, but to interrogate the morality (or lack thereof) of inhumane working hours and conditions for the simple sake of increasing ergodic spaces.
Footnotes
1. Aristotle’s six tenets were originally only applicable to tragic drama, but I think one can be liberal enough to incorporate it with other forms of narratives without much disservice to the philosopher i.e. to books, poetry, films, etc.
2. The decision over Henselt is far from the only example in this regard. Often Geralt has particular dialogue “options” which lead to his instant death and reloading of the previous save.
3. Oftentimes Witcher 2 highlights the ludus choice in a bold, orange font and the paidia choices in simple white text.
Originally written: 14 December 2020
Comments