Garbage Can Bananas

by Piyoz on Oct 27th, 2013

Ludonarrative Dissonance.

If that word sounds made up to you, then you’re right. A term like this sounds like a petty attempt by video game journalists to add more jargon to their profession to make it seem less like dropouts from creative writing majors extending their childhoods and more like an actual job whose blogs, podcasts, and video series need further justification. Ludo- comes from the Greek word for “game”, and narrative is story. Dissonance is a like a conflict. An internal disagreement. A lack of harmony in ideas. Saying one thing but implying another.

A prime example of ludonarrative dissonance (hereafter referred to as LND for the sake of my typing fingers) is seen in 2K’s Bioshock Infinite. In Bioshock Infinite, you play as a Pinkerton agent from New York sent to the floating city of Columbia to find a particular person. The game’s story tells us that your character is a grizzly, serious, hardened man who has been to war, lost a wife in child birth, and squandered his entire savings through gambling and alcohol. Despite his short comings, he is a smart man who acts with reserve and wit.

Then why, I must ask, are you able to run around as this guy  stealing money from random purses? How can you run through Columbia’s streets towing a rocket launcher without anyone even noticing?Why do the people of Columbia leave booze, rotten fruit, and unattended wallets out in public? Why can you reach into garbage cans and find bananas, chocolate, and silver dollars? Who throws fruit and money into the trash? How does this make any sense?

This is the essence of LND. What we are told is going on in the game’s world contradicts what we’re actually doing. What I mean to say is LND is a clear and present phenomenon in video games. However, that doesn’t make it important.

Let’s move to another example. Banjo-Kazooie.

When Gruntilda kidnaps Tootie, Banjo and Kazooie venture into the witch’s lair to rescue his sister. You advance through the lair by collecting music notes and golden jigsaw pieces from individual worlds. Conveniently, your friend Bottles the mole has safely found places in the witch’s lair to help the player learn moves, moves that conveniently must be used to find Jiggies in that same world. And all those Jinjos? One of each color in each world, all strangely placed in increasingly odd and difficult-to-reach places? Why would a witch have such a linear lair filled with such useless minions? If she had any sense at all, she’d lock a big door with magic or something. If your sister were stolen by a REAL witch, it wouldn’t be so simple. The logic of Banjo-Kazooie makes no sense. But think about it this way:

Does it really matter?

It’s very easy to examine the logic of the story behind any video game out there. Yeah, the premise doesn’t always add up, but that is missing the point of what is being examined. You are playing a video game. You’re not reading a book, and you’re not watching a movie.

A video game is about interaction. Even in something as story-driven as Ace Attorney or the Stanley Parable, the focus of the game is on the player’s input. It’s not about world-building or characterization. It’s about GAME PLAY! You play the game. If not all the specifics of the universe don’t all work but you still have a solid gaming experience, what does it matter?

Finding money and fruit in Columbia’s garbage cans seems silly on the surface, yes. But it’s essential in Bioshock’s structure that the player find randomly-generated items such as health, ammunition, and currency in the environment. The purpose of game play trumps the purpose of realistic logic. For the same reason that Gilligan never rebuilt the boat, Gruntilda should never block Banjo and Kazooie as easily as she probably could.

Want tight-knit fiction that is calculated and crafted seamlessly? Watch Star Trek. Want functional game play that needs user interaction to advance? Play a video game. LND doesn’t matter that much because we still have excellent game play, the ultimate purpose of video games as a medium. Even with LND, we as gamers lose nothing.

The only time when LND matters is when it actually divides the player from the game’s experience. I don’t think there are that many games out there whose story-telling creates a barrier in such a way, but I can name one: Bayonetta.

If I had to re-write my old Bayonetta PS3 review for these Member Blogs, I’d probably give it a 3/5. Part of the deduction would stem from LND. As I wrote previously, the game play of Bayonetta is over-the-top, ridiculous, outrageous, and hilarious. It keeps you guessing what crazy ways to kill angels the creators will think of next. This seems irrelevant and supremely dissonant when you watch the cutscenes. The plot plays it straight. Real, serious mystery and fantasy back story. Non-comedic and non-ridiculous sections of dialogue. An ending that tries to be meaningful and enigmatic, but because it’s reached through silly game play, the two clash.

The tone of Bayonetta’s story and the tone of the game play are polar opposites. The transition between the two atmospheres takes the player out of the game, hence creating a negative case of ludonarrative dissonance. Then it matters. Because game play is directly affected. Hopefully Bayonetta 2 will fix this problem.

Who cares if you find entire chocolate cakes in the pants of Comstock’s soldiers? Why should it matter if Gruntilda leaves the door open to the top of her tower? The grand purpose of video games as a medium is still achieved. The logical details of the Land of Columbia and Grunty’s Lair are cosmetic. They’re secondary. They’re an afterthought until you actually lose than connection between your hand and your brain. And until that moment, ludonarrative dissonance isn’t all that important.

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