At the Seams

Hypertext can be described as an electronic narrative, but this is not to say that it is simply a story on a computer screen.  The hypertext medium is not exactly linear as a traditional narrative or short story might be, rather it is a story without a clear ending and a variety of ways to move through the lexia (or text boxes).  Although you do not have the same amount of control, in terms of typing commands, as you would with interactive fiction, you still make decisions that alter the path of the hypertext. The word, space, or image on the lexia you choose to click on dictates where you move subsequently.  In some cases, depending on the length and intricacy of connections the creator made between certain options to click in each lexia, the story is never the same for any one person and can even be dramatically different every time you start over.  Sometimes the text within each lexia changes just as you drag your mouse over each line like in the “stir fry” Blue Hyacinth by Pauline Masurel- see below. 

   Steve Ersinghaus describes hypertext in his article “Reading Hypertext: Reading Blue Hyacinth” as similar to being in a new city.  I very much agree with his analogy because in a new city, just as in a hypertext, we may have never been there before but we are not totally without some background knowledge to help us orient ourselves.  We have been to other cities and we know the general layout of them.  We already know what bus signs look like and the fact that their are always maps to help us along.  This is true in hypertext as well, even if we have never heard of it before, because we are familiar with traditional narratives or short stories.  We come to the hypertext as we do to the new city: as an explorer with some life (or literary) experience to draw on, while still being slightly disoriented.  This disorientation can even serve to spark intrigue about our surroundings, and further assist in our attentiveness to the detail throughout the story or place. We pay more attention when we are not used to what we see, and especially in hypertext this is important because all of the little links, maps, and keywords are there for a reason.
    Of all of the hypertext narratives I have used so far, the most interesting and complex is definitely without a doubt Shelley Jackson’s “Patchwork Girl”.  This hypertext is somewhat based on Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein in that Mary Shelley (the character in Shelley Jackson’s hypertext) creates a “monster” out of various dead people’s body parts and brings the monster to life.  Shelley’s creation is a quilt of various people, experiences, and thoughts all sewn together to form a new being- Patchwork girl.  This hypertext is Mary Shelley (the character in the hypertext) as well as Patchwork Girl’s search for identity and their struggle with the demanding culture around them.
    Shelley Jackson alludes to the female dilemma when describing Patchwork Girl’s embarrassment about her size and clumsiness.  It is set in old England when women had extremely strict roles and expectations set upon them.  They were forced to wear corsets and keep a delicate composure at all times.  In the story Mary Shelley is so frustrated with the pressure put on her to fit this mold, and she actually becomes jealous of her creation because of the fact that she is quite the opposite of all the traditionally female characteristics.  Patchwork Girl on the other hand absolutely hates her large somewhat androgynous body and unruly limbs.  Ironically, it is precisely Patchwork Girl’s inability to fit in with the strict gender roles of the time that set her free from them (or at least in Shelley’s eyes).
    With time Patchwork Girl is so distressed by her disjointed self and seeming lack of identity.  Even though she and Mary Shelley have a very close bond, Patchwork Girl knows she has to set on a new path.  Eventually Patchwork Girl decides that the only way for her to find her own true identity is to move to America.  On her journey she meets Chanse, a small kind man who is with her on the boat ride to the U.S., and they become very close.  Depending on the choices made by the user in this hypertext, you might find out that Chanse is actually a woman.  This is something she reveals to Patchwork Girl after discovering Patchwork Girl naked in her room.  In seeing Patchwork Girl’s collection of scars and who she really is, Chanse decides to let her true self be known as well.
    One particular theme is emphasized throughout “Patchwork Girl”over and over again.  This theme is the idea that our identities are not singular or uniform and it is found throughout the piece, literally and figuratively.  What I think Jackson is attempting to illustrate is that our personalities and everything that makes us who we are is not completely our own.  We are not original in the sense that we build our identities on influences from other people and experiences.  So too does the hypertext build and unfold depending on how we decide to move through the story, and these decisions are based on our previous knowledge gained throughout the story and our lives in general.  Patchwork Girl is the essence of the this idea in the most physical way, she is a quilt of people that makes up one girl/ monster- see below.  Although she is made up of scraps of others, she is her own person, and most herself at the seams- where all of the disjointed parts come together.

    This concept of people as a collection of influences or parts is apparent in the construction of the actual hypertext.  When first opening Patchwork Girl we are presented with a map of the different possible lexia and how they are connected.  We can chose to read her story, see where her different parts came from in the graveyard, or visit is a quilt containing different ideas that brought about Patchwork Girl’s existence- see below.  

As you move along, in your own fashion, you learn more and more about Patchwork Girl and how she came to be.  Although I’m sure we can all “get away from ourselves” every once in a while, this starts to happen to Patchwork Girl in a very literal way.  Eventually Patchwork Girl’s limbs begin to rebel and she has to spend most of her nights taping them back in place.  In my personal opinion this symbolizes the struggle of every person as they get older.  Everyone is in search of themselves, piecing themselves together, only to split at the seams later on.

A Whole New World

    We are all familiar with traditional types of literature: poetry, novels and short stories. I have introduced electronic poetry, or e-poetry, in my previous post.  Just as e-poetry is the electronic and interactive landscape of poetry, so too is “interactive fiction”, or IF, the interactive and completely computer based landscape of short or fictional stories.  Although they are related, interactive fiction and traditional short stories have some fundamental distinctions. First of all, interactive fiction is born in and of computer technology.  This is to say that copying and pasting the “text” from the IF onto a word document would not be IF, nor would it serve the purposes for which it was intended.
    Mary Ann Buckles points out in her article Interactive Fiction as Literature that IF shares some qualities with mystery, science fiction, and fantasy literature.   As she says in her introduction, “these types of popular literature are based on rules, games, and the creation of fantasy worlds. They all emphasize a step-by-step, action-consequence type of thinking and imagination” (Buckles).  The puzzle like nature of these types of writing is also present (and fundamental to) interactive fiction at its core.  Another common quality between traditional literature and IF is the fact that the author or creator must create a fantasy world that is intriguing enough to grab the reader’s (or player’s, in the case of IF) interest and persuade them to take an active mental position on the story.
    The very distinctive and compelling aspect of interactive fiction is the fact that it requires the player to be a part of the story.  The player is in fact the main character of every IF.  The IF acts as a game in that presents its player with an initial situation, like a description of the setting, possibly some characters involved, and a particular problem or hurdle to overcome (although what the puzzle is is not always readily apparent, sometimes finding this out is part of the puzzle). Usually there are hints in the initial description at the beginning of the IF that can help lead you to a new scenario, inching you towards solving a problem.  The player types commands into the box, hoping to find out more about a certain situation, or to move on to new rooms.
    For example, Emily Short’s IF entitled Galatea opens with a description of an art gallery in which there is a marble statue of a woman, Galatea.  This statue is not a normal statue, the initial description acts as though she has human qualities, and in fact she seems to be upset.  The description says her hands are balled up in fists.  This is the hint that should let you know that something is upsetting her, and we want to find out what it is.  Although this isn’t as easy as it sounds because IF is a computer program and cannot understand everything that we tell it. 
    It is very confusing at first, but with time you begin to understand what words or phrases the program can use to continue the story.  The program will also give you helpful instructions when you are not typing in understandable phrases, like “[To talk to someone, try TELL <person> ABOUT <topic> or ASK <person> ABOUT <topic>.]”. This was a response of the IF to my statement “talk to Galatea”.  So when I followed with the language the program could understand, she actually talked to me! To illustrate this I’ve included a screen shot of this particular (beginners) predicament- see below.

    As you continue into Galatea’s world, writing and re-writing your sentences in a way that gives you the response you were looking for.  The first time I “played” Galatea I made her even more angry by talking about myself (by accident).  So, this time I tried to ask about her and what her thought were on art, etc.- see below.  Then when this was unsuccessful I touched her on the shoulder.  The program recognized this as me comforting her.  After comforting her I was able to more easily ask about her thoughts, calming her down further.

What is really interesting about IF, in my opinion, is that all of these choices you make and how you decide to move through the story with your commands (like comforting Galatea rather than enraging her) changes the course of the story, and possibly even the outcome of the IF.  This immense intricacy of interactive fiction is what makes it so interesting to play, but at the same time it is the reason why it is so SO difficult to write.
    In attempting to construct my own interactive fiction I almost had a panic attack.  It is extremely frustrating to actually write an IF because it is almost computer programming. This is not my forte, nor do I enjoy it whatsoever.  Trying to be creative and writing an intriguing or interesting story for your future players is made doubly difficult when you do not enjoy the process of constructing the story in the IF program (in this case, Inform 7).  Making your own IF involves a grueling process of creating a language with which Inform 7 can recognize your player’s commands and what response they should cultivate from your story.
    Not only is the handbook for Inform 7 about a gazillion pages long, but to someone completely new to creating IF it is practically gibberish.  Although I read the necessary pages before beginning my IF, it was only when I actually started to play with the Inform program that the gibberish began to make some sense.  Just as you start with an initial description of setting and situation as a player, you also start with this as the creator.  The player’s surroundings and what details you decide to give them set the tone for the whole game and indicate the path with which they can move through your world.
    In order to create your own IF you have to teach Inform 7 to understand what is in your story and how the player can “use” it, and it is not simple!  You literally have to build the world from the ground up, even to the extent that you must tell Inform that objects in the story are things, and that this is distinct from the setting.  The key difference in this situation is that “things” can be used or picked up by the player while parts of the “setting” are unusable and unmovable.  The ways in which you must tell the program these things is incredibly specific and infuriating.  Not only do you have to describe the setting and plot of your particular IF to the Inform 7 program as if it was an alien to our world, but you also have to dictate the way in which the player can interact with it and what outcomes will result from their decisions.  This includes telling the computer to understand certain words you would assume the player might use to talk about a thing-see below.

    My IF story starts with the player waking up in a dark, abandoned looking basement.  They are tied up to a pole and cannot remember how they got there.  While looking around they see a compass, a ray of sunlight with an unidentified source, and then realize that there are two other people (still unconscious) tied up next to them.  In this case the compass is a “thing” that the player can break and use the glass to cut their restraints.  The problem here was that I had to make the computer understand what “break” meant, and further that the player can use the broken compass to cut themselves free from restraint- and also make Inform understand what “restraint” meant, as it was not a specific part of my initial description.  As you can see, this process is tiresome and at times self-defeating in that it does not feel like a creative work of art anymore, but rather an annoying obligation.  Also, the game like nature of IF made me feel quite restricted to a puzzle based story.  I had crazy, wild ideas for short stories when I was in the planning stage, but through my experience with Inform 7 my story had more and more limitations.
    Although I could go on and on about why IF is not my preferred method of self expression, I certainly do have a new found respect for people who struggle through creating one and actually end up with a cohesive and enjoyable piece of work.  I personally prefer sculpture and painting, but after attempting to construct my own piece of interactive fiction I realize how much effort writers of IF must put into their story, which is really much more than a story.  Creating interactive fiction is computer programming, creative writing, and puzzle-building while not actually being any one of these things at any one time per se.  What I am trying to communicate, which is almost impossible without experience with IF, is that building your own interactive story is essentially creating your own world for other people to enjoy.

Part of the Process

    Electronic poetry is something I have become familiar with in the past month through reading, interacting, and even designing my own e-poetry.  E-poetry may sound like a simple concept, but there is much more to it than simply poetry on a computer screen.  In order for a poem to actually be considered e-poetry it must be multidimensional and require a user to play with it in order for its full scope of meaning to become apparent.  The author can make this happen in a variety of ways such as a word dropping into the page once you click on that space, or disappearing after a certain amount of time. 
    The different animations are almost limitless, but animation is not the point of digital poetry, rather the point is to use electronic tools which give the poem layers of meaning.  The user discovers and understands the deeper meanings of the text through playing with the electronic poem.  Talan Memmott describes in his article “Beyond Taxonomy: Digital Poetics and the Problem of Reading” that a “digital poem is a language that must be read holistically for all the technologies and methods of signification at play” (Memmott 303).  What he means by this is that the motions, colors, and interactions of the e-poem all have an integral meaning for the whole poem.  This is to say, the technological aspects of electronic poetry are inextricable from the poem itself; they give each other their significance. 
    Roxanne Carter’s electronic poem entitled “Housing Problems” is by far my favorite e-poem that I have come across.  The first page you come to has squares of animated women in seemingly desperate situations, possibly from horror stories.  When you click on each picture a new window appears and displays a sentence, a picture with a moving poem, or seven lines with drop arrows that allow you to design your own poem (see below).  Short and simple yet poinient videos appear as you click on the new windows.  This particular e-poem is a story about all women, and how harsh the world around us can often be.  Many of the women in the poem are hiding or being chased, houses burnt down and other tragic or simply trying situations that we must deal with.  Carter uses the technological mechanisms available to her in order to let the user discover what women are confronted with by the world.  The video with the ticking clock for example is (in my opinion) commenting on how women's time is a commodity, and always being demanded of us.  She allows the user to change the words and make new sentences of our own, all of which accentuate how applicable the poem is to every unique woman, and the idea that females live in such a turbulent world.

    Another e-poem I found especially interesting was "Fidget" by Kenneth Goldsmith.  This electronic poem had text floating around and connected by lines, which you could then connect by clicking on them (see below).  The words were all little movements we all engage in throughout our day, usually without paying them much mind.  I think that what Goldsmith is trying to get at is that we are extremely energetic beings, and even when we think we sitting still we are actually moving constantly.  Also, the tool bar allows you to zoom in and out and adjust the speed.  I think that his use of technology in this way illuminates the fact that we all may be different and go about our lives in different ways or speeds, but we are all restless at our core.  We all pine for something else.  Nothing gives us a complete sense of peace.  We never stop. 

    As I mentioned earlier, the different ways in which you can animate your e-poetry are almost limitless.  This is the major issue I personally ran into when trying to create my own e-poem.  Even though I am a minimalist when it comes to my poetry, I couldn’t help myself with the little movements and positions I could use to bring the page to life (see below).  This of course ended up looking pretty cool, but begin to detract from the text itself.  I had to remind myself that the point of the word flying onto the page or drooping downwards was to assist the text so that the reader may better understand my intentions and feelings.  However distracting and time consuming this process was, it was just that: a part of the process.  It is just as important to play with these devices and explore the terrain of electronic devices (with a fair amount of deleting and undoing) as it is to arrive at a completed e-poem.