When exploring trauma and self-doubt in narrative storytelling, writers can often get wrapped up in the show of it all. I spoke previously in my article Introducing an Icon about how showing the death of the Wayne family doesn’t properly inform us of who Batman will be by the time we catch up to him, essentially; trauma is not equal to character. So it may sound surprising when I say that while Strangeland all but begins, middles and ends with the traumatic moment of our protagonist’s history, the games use of mnemonic imagery surrounding this incident helps show what video games have to offer us that other mediums simply can’t.
Being in direct control of a video game is its own function in storytelling and Wormwood studios have a clear idea of how to use it best. Taking control of ‘The Stranger’ we explore the depth of this character’s mind as he himself has all but forgotten what he’s here for. Knowing only that there’s a woman repeatedly jumping to her death (who we are always too late to save), we have to piece together what the hell is going on in Strangeland and fix it.
In Dan Harmon’s Story Structure 102: Pure, Boring Theory he describes the mind as a home where the upstairs represents the conscious mind; a clean, fun space that people come to visit. The basement then, serves as the unconscious mind; a scary place that nobody would visit on purpose but occasionally must head down into in order to change the fuses or get the Christmas lights. A place that keeps the upstairs running smoothly.
[if] we keep the basement door sealed, the entire home becomes unstable. The creatures downstairs get louder and the guy upstairs (your ego) tries to cover the noise with neurotic behavior. For some, eventually, the basement door can come right off its hinges and the slimy, primal denizens of the deep can become Scrabble partners. You might call this a nervous breakdown or psychotic break, it doesn’t matter. The point is: Occasional ventures by the ego into the unconscious, through therapy, meditation, confession, sex, violence, or a good story, keep the consciousness in working order.
Story Structure 102: Pure, Boring Theroy, Dan Harmon
This concept of the mind is where Strangeland begins, the basement monsters are your companions and your home is now a circus. With a world of unsettling imagery, it’s clear The Stranger hasn’t been taking care of himself and we’re now caught in the result. But while Strangeland at first looks to be exploring the depth of our own darkness through horror, we soon find that the darkness and horror of it all just isn’t the point of this plot. No, the Stranger isn’t on a journey downward, he’s on a journey up.
Regardless of his own self-hatred and the world he has crafted, the Stranger cannot give up on himself because he has inside him the knowledge, gifted by another, that he has the capacity for good. This knowledge is what puts him where he is as we take control; his memory is gone, now being drip fed back into him (a smart way of delivering it anew to us as players) so the better parts of himself are able to push forward, regardless of how hopeless it all seems.
No matter how hard we push against the current of our own hearts, it pushes back. The Stranger may have made this dark place but the dark place doesn’t want him to stay. There’s a lot of hope in the story of Strangeland and with a small scope, the use of unique puzzles and a strong hint system that’s baked into the plot, it’s clear that video games is the only way this story could have been explored so effortlessly.
Pixel hunting is bound to happen, and you may be kicking yourself at times as the point and click gameplay troubles rear their head. But Strangeland is utilizing the genre so strongly to try and minimize gameplay issues and deliver a strong plot that you’ll barely feel the weight of it all as you barrel down the tracks of the Valkyrie to dig yourself out of darkness.
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