Now that we are in the new decade, everyone is looking towards
the new console generations and new instalments to long running franchises.
Here at Mind Games, I am more focused on just trying to pass my degree. I don’t
tend to play the latest games or the big releases the moment that they come
out, partly because I’m usually busy working on a coursework and partly because
I like to wait for the price to drop before I buy (#Student Life).
So, when I’m looking for a new game to play, I tend to trawl the online stores looking for weird and whacky games that pique my curiosity. This is how I came across West of Loathing a few years back. As seen with the popularity of the Red Dead Redemption series, games set in the Wild West tend to draw a big audience. Ironically, the fascination with cowboys fizzles out quickly when you investigate their history and realise their lives were nowhere near the dramatic, high-stakes action that the media portray them as.
Check the bookshelf several times. Trust me.
I’m not going to spoil any of the plot as despite it being a
slapstick comedy game, the storyline is quite intriguing, especially when you
start to branch off and explore the side-quests that open as the game
progresses. Plus, it’s always more fun to experience the jokes first-hand.
An RPG, set in a Wild West world, featuring turn-based combat and a series of odd side quests alongside the main story? Sounds like most RPG’s, so what makes this one different? Well, first things first, the art style is simplistic – so much so that it’s a series of stickmen, wearing goofy hats and hurling snakes at their enemies. I love it. It’s a satirical look at most RPG’s, from choosing classes, to levelling up skills and solving puzzles with non-sensical items.
Always practise safe TNT storage kids.
The moment you open the game, it grips you with its sense of
humour. Most of the hours that I have sunk into this game, I have spent with a
massive grin on my face. Instead of choosing from the traditional “Fighter, Magic
User or Rogue” class archetypes, you have the choice of “Cow Puncher, Bean
Slinger or Snake Oiler”. Which serve essentially the same functions but are a
hundred times more hilarious to play as. Why wouldn’t you want to carry around
a briefcase full of snakes and throw them into people’s faces?
Skills and traits are upgraded using experience points, but you can also discover new abilities by reading books (like the nerd you are) or meeting certain criteria. Want to increase your defence? Walk into cacti until your skin is mostly scabs. Want better resistance to heat, stench and cold damage? Stick your hand into various disgusting spittoons scattered around the west to permanently taint your hand with the remnants of other people’s spit. Delightful.
Hmm. Nothing seems abnormal here.
From busting ghosts and getting spooked by the ever present “Boo’s”
in the DLC, to facing down the demon clowns leader and trying not to wet
yourself when he throws knives at you in the main game, West of Loathing has so
much content that it’s impossible to find everything on just one playthrough.
Your choice of class, partner and even a few plot crucial decisions will set
you down unique paths filled with hilarity, unique encounters and EVEN MORE
SPITOONS. Word of warning though, the game will heavily judge you for digging
around the insides of these metal cesspools.
The writing in this game is excellent. Every line of dialogue, every action and every item description has had careful thought put into it. The passion the developers at Asymmetric Publications have for their game is clear to see and is a joy to experience first-hand. They are keenly aware of some of the pitfalls that games can fall into as well as common tropes and clichés that many developers put into their works and manage to tackle these with a sense of humour. Any references to other game series or media franchises, are done with care and subtlety, rather than beating you over the head with them (or a cow bone).
I relate to the guy on the left.
More than anything, I love this game because it makes me laugh. A genuine, full body laugh that hurts your chest after a while. Mental health issues and stressful times means that I don’t get to laugh like that as much as I should. Depression especially tends to sap the humour and joy out of things that would normally elicit laughter from us, replacing it with numbness and general lethargy. It’s something that I have combatted for many years, yet this is the first game that I’ve come across that can consistently bring a genuine smile to my face. Not a fake smile to avoid worrying others or a half-hearted smile to try and fit in, a genuine grin. It’s a refreshing sensation after so many years of monotony when it comes to humour.
That sign can’t stop me cause I can’t read.
Anyways, I’ve got a final-year project to work on and a production to prepare for so I’m going to end this week’s article here and I’ll be back soon! I’ve sent in an application for a press pass at EGX Rezzed in late March, so hopefully we get it and I’ll be able to provide more awesome content for you all at my favourite convention!
As my final term at university passes by, I often sit back
and reflect on how far I’ve come. From admitting I had mental health issues, to
starting medication, to starting Mind Games and preparing to go out into the
world as a fully-fledged adult – it’s been a hell of a journey. A big part of that
process has been the time I have spent with my friends. Since I don’t really
drink and the university clubbing scene is the definition of a panic attack for
me, I tend to stick to sober events. Watching films, playing video games,
chatting with friends and sucking at minigolf, I’ve done it all. My favourite
thing to do though, is play board games with those friends. Especially ones that
stay with you.
I’ve spoken before about Dungeons and Dragons on the site and anyone who follows my Twitter will know that I’m currently running a campaign for some friends. However, the world of tabletop gaming is not just D&D, much to the shock of many. Thanks in part to the afternoons I’ve spent in board game cafes with my friends from school, and to communities like Dicebreaker – I’ve gotten to explore the genre that I love, a bit more deeply. From Dead of Winter and Betrayal at The House on The Hill, to Call of Cthulhu and Band of Blades, there’s a massive range of games out there for you and more are being developed every single day.
If you read my Betrayal article, you’ll know what these are for.
One tabletop game that has really hit close to home for me
recently is the horror RPG, Ten Candles. There aren’t many games that can stun
my friends into silence for more than a few seconds, yet Ten Candles manages
it. Every decision that my players made were given an extensive level of
thought, detail and care, before committing to it. Considering these are the
same players that tend to throw fireballs first and ask questions later, it’s
an astounding difference to witness. So, what is Ten Candles? Why am I
committing an entire article to it? Why should you play it? Let me tell you.
Humans have always feared the dark. Though when you delve further into it, it’s more a fear of the unknown. We can cope with what we can see, what we know is there. It’s a quantifiable problem that we can take steps to combat. In the pitch black, you don’t know what’s there, what it’s doing or whether that prickling on the back of your neck is it creeping ever closer. Ten Candles is played mostly in the dark. Once you finish creating the characters you will tell the story with, you turn off any lights in the room. Your only illumination is by the ten candles sat in the centre of the table.
And we are alive.
The sky has gone dark. No sun, no satellites, no phones or GPS. Power grids have failed across the continents and the world you know has been plunged into darkness. Creatures known only as “They”, stalk the shadows, cutting down the last remnants of humanity as you struggle to survive in this post-apocalyptic world. “They” will claim your life in the end. That much is certain. Ten Candles isn’t about survival or “winning”. It’s a game about loss and hope, about finding light in the darkness and making your last moments of living worthwhile.
This is how to grab an audience’s attention.
There aren’t any overly complex rules or time-consuming preparations to make in order to enjoy Ten Candles. All you really need are candles, paper, pens, some regular dice (6-sided) and something to dispose of/burn the paper slips in. Time is marked by the extinguishing of candles. For each failed conflict (dictated by dice rolls), a candle is darkened. If you don’t fail any conflicts, a candle will go out eventually. The end comes for us all, eventually. When you have one final candle left, the Last Stand begins. This is the final scene of the game in which every character will die. It’s inevitable.
Once every character has perished, the final candle is blown
out. You sit, in complete darkness and listen to a recording your players recorded
as their characters at the start of the game. Their voices, speaking words of
hope and sorrow, are haunting, especially with their death scene ringing in
their ears. When the recording ends, you all sit there in the darkness – lost in
your own thoughts and reflecting on the dark journey they will have taken over
the past few hours.
Before the lights go out and the game begins, you must create your characters. Characters are made up of five characteristics – Virtues (positive trait), Vices (negative trait), Concepts (who are you), Moments and Brinks. Your Virtue, Vices and Brinks are made by the players either side of you – allowing totally unique characters to be made in every session. Your Concept and your Moment are entirely your choice. A Moment is a scenario in which your character can find hope. Be that reuniting with a lost family member, taking down one of “Them” or finding somewhere safe to stay the night, these Moments provide you with another dice in the Last Stand – increasing your chances of achieving something significant in your final moments.
As much as I didn’t discuss the Establishing Truths phase, these three lines are what stays with you.
Brinks are a bit different. A brink is what your character
is like when pushed to the edge. What do they do when faced with loss or grief?
Do they fly into a rage? Were they a murderer before this all began? The
possibilities are endless. As the players decide the Brink for the person on
their left, this means that the GM is also involved. The GM plays as “Them”,
and they have seen one of the players at their breaking point. This means the
players Brink is kept secret. Meanwhile the player to the right of the GM gets
to decide what form “They” take in the session. Do they worship the moon? Do
they shapeshift? Do they mimic voices? What powers do they have?
This story is not a happy one. It is a joint tale of hope, desperation, fear and co-operation in the darkness. Although the GM is there to lead the story, they are not in control of everything that happens. Sometimes, it is up to the players to narrate what happens. Everyone at the table works together to weave a story they deem worthy of telling. Their interactions, their moments of hope and loss, their eventual deaths – they all must have meaning and weight behind them. At the end of the world, you are what will be the difference between the light and the darkness.
We may be destined to die but it is up to you how it happens.
If you can, I’d suggest playing this yourself. You can get a
PDF of the rulebook or a paper-copy from cavalrygames.com to support the
creator Stephen Dewey – a very talented developer. It is an experience that I
feel will stay with you for a long time and bring your friends closer together.
Stanley Parable is one of those games that everybody knows
but not everyone has played. It is the first game that springs to mind when
someone says the term “meta” or “breaking the fourth wall”. The game is keenly
aware of its own status as a “video game”, as well as being able to distinguish
between the actions of Stanley, the protagonist, and you, the player. When
Undertale was released, people heaped praise onto its commentary of the player’s
previous actions – something that The Stanley Parable had been doing since it’s
first release.
Obviously, if you’ve never experienced the brilliant insanity that is this game, go try it. The developers are producing a “Ultra Deluxe” edition of the game, with more content, more endings and more sass, which is to be released at some point this year. So, now is a better time than ever to give it a try. Though, try not to strangle the Narrator. There’s only so much abuse you can take from him before you grab the nearest sharp object and throw it. Computer’s are expensive after all and replacing them can be a pain in the backside.
…I think they want us to go through the red door.
The plot of The Stanley Parable could probably give FNAF a
run for its money with all it’s endings, references, timelines and interweaving
paths. Want to obey the Narrator? That’s one ending. Want to disobey at every
turn? That’s another. Want to hurl yourself off a moving platform and onto a
previously inaccessible area? Bit odd, but you can still do it. The Stanley
Parable is about choice, freedom, control and the powers that seek to take it
away from you. At the centre of it all are two key figures – the Narrator, and
you, the player.
One of the fascinating things about video games as a medium, is the messages we take from it. Nobody’s experience is the same. Where I might see a story about someone suffering from anxiety, you might see someone trapped in a negative relationship. A conversation with a character might hit closer to home or a background track could make you cry. This is the same in everyday life. The path I’ve taken to where I am now, sat writing this article, is completely unique. Wherever you are, reading this, your journey has been your own.
I think the sign makers need to look up the word “subtle”.
A prime example of this has come from this site and the wonderful
community that has built up around it. When I write an article, I’ll have a few
key points that I try to get across, as well as a few thought-provoking ideas
that may spark further conversation. However, the comments are often filled
with insightful, intelligent and unique perspective’s that I wouldn’t have
thought of in a thousand years. It’s a joy to read.
The story in The Stanley Parable is a tale about employee 427, who pushes buttons as instructed by his computer terminal. Employee 427, or Stanley as we know him, realises that something is wrong. Following the standard story path, you explore the office building and eventually discover a mind-control facility at the heart of it. If you listen to the narrator, you’ll turn off the mind-control facility and set Stanley free, allowing him to escape the monotonous job he was trapped in (even though Stanley apparently loves it).
…I’d date it. (quiet sad gay crying)
However, the moment you stop obeying the Narrator, the tone
of the game changes. Instead of merely instructing you, the Narrator insults
you, bargains with you, begs you to just play along for a few minutes. Games
often like to toy with you, to keep you on the edge of your seat, to keep you
in the dark and pull the rug out from under you when you least expect it. The
Stanley Parable takes that a step further, and constantly makes it presence
known – leaving you with the uncomfortable sensation of being watched, judged
and observed.
It does remind me of my inner voice. We all have that voice in our head, which tends to become a lot louder during stressful times. When it comes to mental health, that voice tends to get all the louder. As the Narrator judges your actions, you start to question your own motivations. Are you doing it to spite him? Is it simply curiosity? Are you searching for a deeper meaning where none could be found? He provides a perspective on your choices from the viewpoint of a writer, a creator.
Follow the line or go back to playing the “save the baby from the burning fire” game.
As a GM of various tabletop games for my friends, being able
to see how they interact with the world’s that I create is my favourite part of
the experience. However, it can be frustrating and disheartening when the story
you’ve put so much effort into, isn’t appreciated or acknowledged. Though I
wouldn’t resort to maniacally laughing and insulting my players as they run
around trying not to be exploded. At least not yet. Maybe if they try to kill
one more of my lovely NPC’s or piss off my omnipresent OC again, then I’ll consider
it.
More than anything, The Stanley Parable is hilarious. There’s careful thought and dedication put into every element of the game, from office doors, to hurling yourself down a staircase multiple times in search of an ending. From staring at tables, to answering a phone, to following the “Adventure Line”, there are so many possibilities that it’d explode your brain if you think about it for too long.
Anyways, apologies that this took so long, I’ve been a bit
under the weather! Remember to comment, like, follow the site and I’ll see you
next time:
If you’ve been following me on Twitter (which you should all
do, just saying @OurMindGames), then you’ll understand I’ve recently fallen
back in love with Lego. Growing up, I was the opposite of my older sister – who
preferred the more stereotypically feminine stuff. Nothing wrong with that, it
just wasn’t me.
My love of video games and creating things, be it through Lego or carpentry, has had a major influence on the young adult I have become. I loved to create motorised vehicles out of Lego, so much so that I genuinely considered becoming a mechanical engineer for a good few years (before I realised that I didn’t like studying physics). So, to come back to it after all these years has a somewhat bittersweet feel to it.
LOOK UPON MY CREATION AND WEEP.
Alongside my university studies, I work as an ambassador in
local schools, delivering workshops, computing lessons and providing access to
new technologies that the kids may not have had access to before. My Saturday
mornings are spent helping younger kids build their own games, robots and
applications from all sorts of bits of tech. Honestly, most of the kids are
leaps and bounds ahead of where I was when I was their age, which is really
heartening to see.
One of the most popular bits of kit, is the Lego Mindstorms – programmable robot units given movement, control and purpose by adding Lego blocks! More often that not, I end up on the floor, digging through boxes of bricks looking for the specific piece that will complete the kid’s magnum opus.
Thankfully, the love of Lego did not die with my generation.
Side note, typing that sentence genuinely made me shudder
out of realisation that I’m technically part of a different generation. Age is
just a number, come at me world. If I want to build Lego, dance in the rain and
roll down grass hills, then I will. You cannot stop me! (Cue evil laughter)
Moving past the days of Lego stop motion movies, more often that not, we often see these building bits in game adaptations of our favourite franchises – such as Marvel, DC, Harry Potter and Lord of The Rings. Though that last one isn’t really an option anymore, unless you want a court case on your hands.
RIP the precious
A lot of kids first experiences with these cinematic universes,
is through Lego games. Obviously, not every parent is content with letting
their primary school age child play games with heavy themes or to see films with
adult ratings. For example, I used to only be able to play games that were
rated 15 or 18, if my dad was with me. So, I have played a lot of Lego games.
A large amount of gatekeeping in the gaming community is based on the argument of what constitutes an actual “game”. Some claim that only console/PC games fit the criteria, others argue that there should be some degree of difficulty in the gameplay for it to be called a “proper game”. Lego games, with their simple but enjoyable gameplay, basic puzzles and focus on fun, tend to be in the eye of the storm. Let’s chat through a few of the common complaints:
Avenge their bricky bodies
“They’re too easy”
What’s wrong with a game being easy? Considering the complex issues that we deal with in everyday life, sometimes it is nice to play a game that doesn’t go out of its way to challenge you. It’s about enjoyment, losing yourself in something other than your problems for a while and getting a small sense of achievement when you beat a boss or solve a puzzle. Depending on your mental state at the time, it might be your only win in a day filled with losses.
*WEEE WOOOO WEEEE WOOO* ITS THE LAW
“Nobody enjoys them or wants to play them.”
For those who struggle with reaction times or complex puzzles, having a game that is fully playable for them, is a welcome relief. Although the games industry is slowly improving, it is not the most accessible thing in the world. From providing subtitles, to having different colour schemes, to turning off quick time events entirely, there are lots of ways that games can broaden their audience and allow anyone and everyone to enjoy the experience. Plus, they’re good multiplayer games. Being able to play games with your loved ones, especially if you don’t normally get to, is a wonderful way to make memories. Just because you don’t enjoy something, doesn’t mean others won’t. Remember that.
IM BATMAN AND IM FINE.
“They’re boring.”
Considering the popularity of the Lego games, this couldn’t
be further from the truth. Whether it’s building the actual sets, punching
every breakable thing in sight to collect studs, or swinging around as a Lego
version of Spiderman, there is a childish delight in these experiences.
Personally, I find the process of building the Lego sets very therapeutic and relaxing. For someone whose mind is often filled with anxiety, fear, self-loathing and every possible catastrophic scenario that could befall me, Lego provides a peaceful respite. Don’t knock it till you try it.
Anyways, I’ve got sleep to catch up on and crops to harvest
on my virtual farm. Till next time,
As we have covered many times over
the last year, I am not a fan of horror games. Any enjoyment that could be
derived from being scared, is ruined by the paralysing anxiety that accompanies
it. I tend to avoid any and all horror like the plague – better than safe than
sorry. However, when it comes to psychological horror, I’m a bit more open
minded. Psychology has always fascinated me. People often like to joke that those
who like to study the inner workings of the human psyche, are either wanting to
understand the “unstable” or are “unstable” themselves. Obviously, it’s a whole
load of rubbish but there is a grain of truth in there.
Humanity, as a species, strives to
understand what we often deem impossible to comprehend. We quantify and label,
document and test everything and anything we can get our grubby little hands
on. There’s so much we know about the world around us yet so little we
understand about how our own minds work. With words alone, we can change a
crowd into a mob, start a rebellion, incite cruelty and bring joy to those who
seek it. I’ve never been good at understanding emotions, particularly my own.
Anger, hatred and cruelty are all foreign concepts to me.
So, when a game claims to be a psychological horror, I am curious as to what hidden truths it will strive to extract from the gold mine that is the human mind.
Stories Untold, is one such game. Presented
as a four-part episodic experience in the style of old school text adventure
games, it weaves such an intricate web that when the finale arrives, it knocks you
flat on your back and holds you there – controlling every rise and fall of your
chest. Even when you know what is coming, repeat playthroughs allow you to
notice every subtle link and minute detail that builds such a vivid picture in
your mind, it’s as if you are standing there, watching it all unfold in front of
your eyes but are powerless to do anything to stop it. I love it.
Now, if you haven’t played it and want to do so without any spoilers – stop reading now, go play it and then come back with the experience fresh in my mind. Do come back though, I’ll be lonely otherwise. For those of you who are still reading, lets talk spoilers. The first three chapters each seem to have their own standalone story, meanwhile the final chapter links all of them together. I’m going to talk about each chapter in turn. The four chapters are titled – The House Abandon, The Lab Conduct, The Station Process and The Last Session.
Don’t pick up the phone. You never know who is on the other end.
The first episode, The House
Abandon, follows the more traditional style of text adventures. You, the player,
drive up to your family’s holiday home. After starting up the generator and
unlocking the front door, you’re given the chance to explore the building –
reminiscing about your childhood and the fond memories that the old walls hold.
Eventually, you find your way to your bedroom and find your old computer – that
your father dug out of the attic, along with a copy of a very familiar game, the
House Abandon. Upon booting up the game, the power goes out. When everything
flickers back to life, it’s all changed. The welcoming house becomes filled
with stains, broken windows, dead carcasses and ominous writing on the walls. Instead
of a kind note from your father, the note in your hand spits cruel, terrifying
and hateful messages – to the point where it seems to burn into the palm of
your hand.
A phone rings, breaking the uneasy silence that you have fallen into. You hear breathing down the phone and soon you realise that you are not alone anymore. Creaking floorboards, flickering lights and blaring alarms all echo around you, as if the house you are sat in, playing the game, is the same one as in the game itself… You struggle to distinguish between the actions of your player exploring the house and those of the individual sat controlling those movements. Negative emotions and memories pour out of the protagonist like a tidal wave, culminating in the door behind you creaking open. The computer accuses you of an unknown crime, demanding that you admit that it was all your fault. It barrages you with insults, hurling abuse until you at last type the words “It was all my fault”. It’s response? “Finally.”
Not an ominous setup at all.
In The Lab Conduct, you play as Mr
Aition – a volunteer who has agreed to take part in a series of experiments
conducted by Dr Daniel Alexander. These experiments are performed upon an
object called “artefact 23”, which was recovered from a crash site for further
study. Locked in the isolated laboratory, you use various machines such as an
X-Ray, sound wave generators and high-powered lasers on the object. At first
glance, the artefact appears to be an animal heart of some kind, whose
heartbeat we restart. However, upon exposure to extreme frequency sound waves,
it explodes and reveals a metallic sphere.
As a child, you’re always told not to stare at the sun, or it’ll hurt your eyes. Well, in Stories Untold, don’t stare at the hovering metallic sphere or it’ll knock you over, draw some blood and “connect” you to its inner core. You know, just normal things. Once connected, you walk through the spheres memories – reliving the crash, reaching out to a silhouette for help and waking up in a hospital bed, covered in wires and recovering from a torture session. When you pull out the wires, an alarm goes off. You, Mr Aition, hear that alarm as well. Yet again, the events seem to be occurring at the same time. Once you instruct the creature to leave their room, Dr Alexander recognises that you are causing this and begs for you to stop. Yet, you do not stop. You release all the spheres. They converge on you and as the world fades from around you, the last words of Dr Alexander ring in your ears – “Someday Mr Aition, this will haunt you.”
Don’t go out in the snow alone. People don’t come back.
The Station Process is a chapter
that leans into the love of puzzle-solving that echoes in the hearts of most
gamers. Using a microfilm reader with a guide on it, you, only known as “James”,
must decrypt a series of signals and submit the correct code in order to pass
on the relevant messages. The puzzles involve decrypting Morse Code, observing
patterns and adjusting frequencies. Nerd that I am, I adore them. After all,
what’s the point of studying Computer Science if you can’t show off your
understanding everything occasionally? As you complete the puzzles, your fellow
communication tower operators talk about something coming, attacking supply
teams and ripping entire cabins out of the earth.
One of the signals you intercept is a distress signal that details how the rest of the world has been collapsed by the creatures that now stalk the mountain range that your cabins are situated on. They beg you to lock your doors and stay inside, but fate has other plans for you. When the main transmitter is knocked out of place, it’s your job to go fix it. When you’ve done so, you hear the voice of Station 2, a kind female voice, seemingly going into shock – unable to feel her legs and just wanting to rest. You can’t help her; you can’t help anyone. When you finally get back to the cabin, it’s not the one you left. It’s the bedroom from The House Abandon.
One of these things is not like the other, one of these things does not belong.
Clearly, there’s an overarching
plot between these episodes. These lingering threads are all pulled together in
The Last Session. As the opening credits play, they pause and pull back to
reveal that you’ve been watching a TV show. Your character, James Aition, is
wheeled by Dr Alexander into an empty room with a cassette recorder and
prompted to try and recover the memories of what happened before he arrived in
hospital. It is revealed that you were involved in a nasty car accident and had
been in a coma for two weeks prior to the events of the game. Your last three
attempts at recalling the accident had ended in panic, with the truth being
mixed in with fantasy such that you couldn’t tell which was which.
The game proceeds to take you through the previous chapters. You return to the communication tower and examine the microfilm – which now displays a police report about the traffic accident you were in. Your sister, Jennifer, was trapped and critically injured and the other driver was found dead, with an empty bottle of whisky in his hand and stinking of alcohol. However, upon solving a puzzle, you hear a testimony of a friend of said driver, claiming that the guy had never spoken about alcohol before and would never imbibe like that – especially considering he was a former police officer. He accuses James of foul play.
Never been a fan of hospitals. Don’t think I ever will be.
We burst into the emergency room,
to James’s heart stopping on the gurney and a haemorrhage threatening to destroy
any chances of resuscitating him. Upon the doctor’s orders, you restart your
own heart and drill into your skull – saving your life. As the drill
approaches, you startle awake in the computer desk from The House Abandon. It
details a leaving party being hosted by your family, to celebrate James going
travelling with his friends abroad for several months in the new year. After
having a few drinks and being gifted a nice bottle of whisky from his dad,
Jennifer asks James whether he can give her a lift home. Unfortunately, you can’t
say no to this choice (trust me, I tried).
As you stagger to the car, forget to take the handbrake off the car and drive faster than is safe, even when sober – Jennifer slowly realises that James is drunk. She begs him to slow down, to pull over, to just stop, but he does not listen. He goes faster, eventually crashing directly into oncoming traffic. When he awakens, he drags himself out of the car – leaving his sister in the burning wreckage. Terrified of going to jail and wrecking his reputation, James decides to frame the other driver by pouring alcohol on him, removing his fingerprints from the bottle and planting it in the dead driver’s car. When the police arrive, James collapses from his injuries and wakes up in the hospital room with Dr Alexander. The doctor takes James back to the TV room, stating that he will report what James said to the police.
Sometimes telling the truth, is the hardest thing to do.
More than anything, Stories Untold
is about consequences. You must live with the consequences of your actions.
Your choices affect more than just your life. They ripple, like pebbles on a
lake’s surface, spreading further and further out until they form tidal waves that
threaten to consume the lives of so many. In this case, James’s actions caused
the death of his sister, the grief of his family, as well as the death and
attempted framing of an innocent man. His panic at reliving what he had done,
his refusal to accept the horrifying reality of his memories – all these lead
us on this journey through the shattered remains of a young man’s mind.
Anyways, I hope you’ll all think a
little about the stories that you tell and whether they are stories that you’d
want people to hear about or not. If not, make positive changes. I believe in
you. Like, comment and follow the site – both here and on Twitter @OurMindGames
for future articles.
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