I'm always searching for game writing inspiration. When I heard about "Planetfall," an unconventional novella inspired by science fiction literature and modern interactive narrative, I was intrigued. Author John Burnett, a user interface (UI) artist for video games by day and a renaissance man by night, has written a linear story with a sleek flash interface that affected me in a powerful way.

"Planetfall" differs from other novellas in its format. The story is presented in a seamless UI inspired by early images of the Animus from Assassin's Creed. The narrative is written entirely through a futuristic messaging system that is a hybrid of modern-day emailing and instant messaging. While no dates or timestamps are present, the chronology of the story is quite clear, and the pacing is strong. At first I thought the lack of dates was a fault, but, upon further reflection, I began to see how it aided the overall flow of the story.

The plot is an interesting experiment of a crew put in a drastic situation. The reactions are profoundly human, representing some of the best and worst aspects of humanity. In a relatively short amount of time, Burnett manages to convey the struggles of a large group of people and the variety of emotions they experience. It is very reminiscent of games, as the electronic messages are all we have of the incident. The gaps must be filled in by the reader. Fortunately, Burnett manages to take advantage of the opportunity to leave out information and throw in some surprises. The ending left me somewhat shaken, but I enjoyed it and the finale was fitting.

Burnett has a great attention to detail despite the deceptively simple interface. In his notes, he mentions key decisions, such as having photos for each character to emphasize their humanity. He then explains how he lights up each character when they are the person who wrote the message, but when their picture fades out, the light remains slightly longer on their eyes. Burnett also made several revisions to the novella that added a surprising level of polish, such as the maintenance reports that help break up the messages with a more visual piece of narrative.

While Burnett's novella could clearly provide some positive inspiration for game writers considering telling stories through logs or files, there are still a few weaknesses. For a story told in 2030, his characters have an unusual grasp of some terms that would surely be antiquated by that time. Certain phrases, such as "grab a pen," may be outdated. More futuristic phrases, such as "grab a stylus," could provide more suitable replacements. Also, the story sets a very clear tone through the dialogue. I enjoyed the dry wit and the coolness, but this did create characters with less depth. I wanted to see a character or two with more quirkiness, or characters with different senses of humor. Also, several of Burnett's central characters have a high degree of academic literary knowledge. It seems unlikely that characters in 2030 stuck on a spaceship would've spent hours in a classroom studying Shakespeare and Yeats which they can then quote to express their frustrations.

Despite its faults, I feel that "Planetfall" provides a strong narrative. Outside of sci-fi literature, Burnett cites his inspirations as System Shock 2 and BioShock. This style of on-demand narrative through logs in increasingly popular, as it will also be utilized in the upcoming Dead Space. It has certainly inspired me to write my own interactive narrative through messages. It certainly seems a challenge to write an interactive narrative that could affect me as strongly as "Planetfall."  

The arrival of Eternal Sonata has meant the end of a phase for me. I played Eternal Sonata for a few hours, and the next day I found that feeling that I had missed so much: video game craving. Just as I had hoped, this game was turning into the type of experience I had been wanting since I finished Okami and Elite Beat Agents earlier this year.

I understand that Eternal Sonata isn’t the type of game that everyone wants to play. For me, it is finally a world that I want to escape to in my free time; unlike the horrific environment of Bioshock or the dangerous Halo, Eternal Sonata makes everything lovely. When I have a stressful school life, I want to spend my free time in a glittering dungeon or a majestic forest. It’s relaxing for me to escape into a world more beautiful than my own.

The combat system in Eternal Sonata appeals to me much more than many other games due its turn-based roots. While there is still a battle timer, the game still gives you time to think through the moves you want each character to use. I enjoy games that give me a little time to strategize. That way, it’s more like a puzzle and less like a test of gut reactions.

I was hoping that Eternal Sonata would be more like an adventure game, with a straightforward plot and puzzles that don’t require too much time. Unfortunately, my friend and I spent a ridiculous amount of time on a puzzle that was almost entirely based on trial and error. Like previous RPGs, I decided to purchase a strategy guide, as the game is full of ridiculously winding pathways and has some tricky puzzles.

I was a little bit upset when, after purchasing a guide with adequate pictures, my friend and I still got lost in a level. The official guide is poorly worded in some parts, and for someone as literal as I am, it can be an issue. I began to realize that part of the reason I enjoyed games like Final Fantasy VIII was the fact that I had a solid guide to help me through it, like a mentor that helped me make the best decisions. I was able to complete many RPGs with strong characters and little frustration due to the help of many well-written guides.

While I still think that I will enjoy playing Eternal Sonata, I am still slightly disappointed in the puzzles. However, most RPGs have some sort of ridiculous puzzle that, in the words of my friend Jettoki, “is made to be so difficult that you have to buy a strategy guide.” I hope that Eternal Sonata can continue to be a relaxing experience for me and that the rest of the game turns out to be as fantastic as its visual design.  

I’m still thinking about Bioshock. I haven’t even played the game – I only watched it – yet it’s on my mind. Perhaps the critics were right: there’s something about this game that hits you on a deeper level.

Lately I’ve been wondering, how did Bioshock remain scary without anyone jumping out in the demo? It may be because of the frightening story of a utopia gone wrong, where little girls become soulless monsters and people brutally kill their best friends. Still, I can’t help thinking that it’s more than that.

In Bioshock, you are an outsider in the city, so you don’t really care about it, but the horror of the game still affects you on some level. The game encourages you to loot corpses. Many games do this, and it is probably essential to survival in many of those hypothetical plots, but does that make it right? The splicers are selfish beings who kill each other and are only out for themselves. If you loot corpses and kill splicers, you essentially become a splicer yourself.

When first entering the city of Rapture, there is a scene where one splicer attacks another. These attacks happen in front of you multiple times. I kept expecting there to be a “good” side and a “bad” side – like some sort of resistance. My friend informed me that the story of the game explains how the resistance has been defeated, making your situation more hopeless. However, I was surprised by the lack of a companion. Outside of the companion accessible through the radio, there is really no one checking in with you. No one in this game seems to be “on your side” – no one wants to help you get out alive unless they believe it will help them (like the radio guide).

These factors help to isolate you and make your situation all the more desperate. I keep thinking back to that scene where the splicer was drilled by the Big Daddy. The gore didn’t bother me, but the lack of emotion I felt did. Why didn’t I care about this city and the fact that people were tearing themselves apart? Why did I find myself laughing at the monstrous little girl when she said normal children’s words in a creepy voice?

It seems that games allow us to have an unnatural separation from the morals we use in daily life. Perhaps this is a motivation for some to play. I am personally shocked by the way in which I slip into this lax sense of morality. While watching my friend play Bioshock, I would ask him if he checked this or that corpse in the corner to make sure he raided all the items. I saw enemies like tasks on a to-list: kill him, kill her, and kill that one over there.

It is common to separate ourselves from the enemy in games, but does that make it right? People separate themselves from enemies in wars so they can kill them. We voluntarily play games against enemies that are very human in nature, from Germans in war games to zombies. I have no problem at all killing monsters in games, but killing people in the virtual space feels different. I have no problem with other people playing these games since the vast majority seems to have a strong distinction between reality and virtual worlds. However, I don’t like the part of myself that can human enemies like animals to slaughter, so it may be hard for me to ever have the desire to buy a game like Bioshock.  

I didn’t think I’d want to see Bioshock. I’m way too jumpy for scary games and I prefer to play games in fantasy worlds that I’d actually want to visit. I downloaded the Bioshock demo for a friend so I could watch the game without actually playing it. That way, if it got too scary, I could always run away.

I was about to leave my friend alone to play the game but I hesitated before leaving the room. I had heard so many great things about this game from fans and critics alike; I figured it wouldn’t hurt me to watch the opening cutscene.

I was immediately drawn in by the sharp visuals, particularly the stunning water effects. This was one of the first games I saw with the HDMI plug on my HDTV, making it stand out among so many games I’d seen. From the plane crash in the beginning to the neon lights in the dimly-lit city of Rapture, the visual design was simply stunning.

I was surprised that the demo didn’t explore the scare factor that I was dreading. I was able to watch a good 30 minutes of gameplay in the creepy atmosphere without once experiencing something jumping out of the dark. This meant that I didn’t scream, but I did see something shocking.

As my friend was going through the game, he came upon a scene with a girl repeatedly jabbing a corpse’s butt. After venturing closer, a scene plays where a guy gets vividly drilled by a Big Daddy. I was impressed by the game’s ability to smoothly transition from gameplay to interactive cutscene. I’ve heard that Half-Life 2 employed a similar technique, but with the visuals in Bioshock, it was impressive. Blood never really bothers me, but I was certainly shocked by the fact that the player could bring their character so close to the scene and still remain undetected.

After watching my friend play through the entire Bioshock demo, I am convinced that perfection is very subjective. Critics have rated this game incredibly high, but I have a hard time believing that everyone would rate it a similar score, at least for its appeal. I have never been drawn to survival horror games like this. Near perfect gaming experiences for me must include lovely worlds like those in Okami and Eternal Sonata. Although I may appreciate the lightning powers, the perfectly rendered water effects, the seamless cutscenes and the atmosphere, I don’t think that I would ever enjoy playing this game. I have seen enough to know what a splicer is and to know that this game is probably very good for its genre, but certainly not a good fit for me.