Braid as an “interactive manifesto”

Warning: This post contains Braid spoilers, so please don’t read it if you intend to play the game but have not yet. I would feel terrible if I ruined the experience for you in any way.

Additional Warning: I’m not qualified to write criticism of Braid, but I will anyway.

I’ve been reading through a multitude of theories regarding Braid, and apparently none of them have captured all of Jonathan Blow’s intentions. I don’t think that my theory is necessarily closer to the mark, but hopefully I can at least add something new to the discussion.

I hope my theory isn’t reaching too far and I must admit that it may be influenced by my experience with the game. I’m going to just state my ideas, not because I believe they are fact, or possibly intended by the game’s creator, but because I am tired of typing “I”. Please let me know if I’ve used any of the terms below incorrectly, I have a habit of writing faster than I think, and assuming things I shouldn’t.

Let me know what you think:

Braid is a post-modern retelling of Super Mario Brothers that functions as a metafictional “living manifesto” of Jonathan Blow’s ambitions in game design or more generally, the potential of games. It is a deconstructive reading of a classic game, but it is also a challenge to gamers to expect more from what they play, and to examine games that merit criticism closely.

The narrative hinted at in Super Mario Brothers is archetypal. It depicts a hero rescuing a princess from evil. This archetype wasn’t formed by the game, but in the video game genre, SMB is one of the first to be added to the “canon”. Much of what we play today is influenced in some manner by the game and its success.

The archetype of the hero and his quest is explored in a variety of different ways in Braid, but what sets this exploration apart is its focus on the archetype of SMB in gaming. Braid references SMB in many ways. The basic gameplay is similar: the player moves around the two-dimensional world by running and jumping, enemies are dispatched by landing on their heads, etc. The layout of the levels are alike, the worlds end with a castle and a flag, but no princess. Even some of the visuals from SMB and the original Donkey Kong are referenced. Braid isn’t about SMB, but it does use the game as a starting point. The resemblance is obvious, but the references mean more than simply showing the player how much has changed.

Braid‘s narrative defies a simple explanation. Through the first few worlds, players might assume that the game is describing a relationship ended accidentally by the main character. As the textual narrative unfolds between worlds the nature of the relationship becomes obtuse and players start to doubt their assumptions. Near the end of the game, direct references to the atom bomb begin to pop up, adding a whole new layer to the potential confusion. All of the ideas are worth pursuing, but the progression of the layered narratives is more important than the content. The narrative seems to jump from one idea to the other, but when the game is finished, the player must provide the final piece of the puzzle or make the leap of faith (sorry). The princess that the player and character have been searching for the entire game is never found. She eludes the player. The princess is the unrealized potential of the gaming genre.

The gameplay mechanic of time manipulation allows the player to complete Braid‘s puzzles and it forces them to analyze how they play. The narrative, presented in the text between worlds, creates a connection between the mechanics of each level and an idea beyond the scope of the gameplay. As narrative threads are added, the player progresses through the levels, finding castles, each increasingly lavish, but the princess, the answer the character and the player are seeking, isn’t there. The castles represent the history of game development, they get prettier and prettier, but we still haven’t found the answer. When all is said and done, beating the final boss, or getting the last achievement, isn’t enough. The time manipulation mechanic encourages the player to look back at the games that came before and learn from the genre’s mistakes and successes, to try to locate where the gaming industry left the path of innovation and growth so we can find it again.

It is easy to look at the game as an example of the design ideas presented by Jonathan Blow, but the game is not just an example, it is a manifesto in motion that toys with the player’s expectations of victory, compelling them to reach beyond the limits of the game for an answer. The realization at the end of the game that the princess might be an atom bomb disappoints because the revelation is too sudden, without the foreshadowing needed to end the narrative satisfactorily. Instead, those references point toward the ability of games to function as art, an experience that transcends the boundaries of gameplay. Players are not supposed to feel satisfied because the princess still hasn’t been found. All they have gained is possibilities. A handful of identities to attach to the princess. So the players start their own search.