London Review of Books - Vol. 47 No. 23 - 25 December 2025

The Agency Dichotomy

Seb Ingham

When I set out to investigate the viability of interactive media for telling stories, I approached the subject with one question in mind: can interactivity and narrative truly coexist? However, upon further research, it became clear that this was not a question of if but of how these narratives function. My focus was quickly drawn away from the viability of this form, and towards the incredible potential that the relationship between interactivity and narrative holds, the ways in which it can be applied both to new and pre-existing stories, and how it can unlock entirely new avenues of narrative development going forward. 

Our modern media landscape is more expansive than ever before. The possibilities available to a writer looking to tell their stories are myriad; from classically composed literature and finely crafted novellas to the constant innovation of new digital formats, the options available to the modern author are vast. However, these options also challenge the author in their vision of what their work should look like, and the audiences they aim to resonate with. 

These decisions can be what makes or breaks a contemporary narrative – in the age of the adaptation, authors are experimenting with format choices and changes more than ever, and with good reason. The correct format can bring a pre-established IP (intellectual property) to an entirely new audience, or elevate that IP to newfound levels of success and popularity. It can also turn what was an interesting or unique idea that didn’t entirely come together into a genre-defining success story, given the right circumstances. Recent examples of these successful adaptations include the televisual debuts of The Last of Us and Fallout, and historic examples of this effect point us toward some of the largest IPs in media, such as the Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings books making the jump to the big screen.  

With the rise in digitisation over the past few decades, the accessibility of interactive content has placed it on the front line of innovations in the contemporary narrative experience. From singular ‘A or B’ choices that audiences may choose between, to fully fledged simulated environments where every moment organically affects the story being told, digitisation has opened up the scale and ruleset of how interactive media can be presented. However, interactivity is an incredibly volatile narrative trait that, when applied to a piece of media, alters the perceptions and expectations of the audience consuming it. With the proliferation of videogames as the leading example of fully interactive mainstream media over the last few decades, audience expectations for narrative interaction will have naturally grown alongside the development of the medium. Applying interactive elements incorrectly or without proper consideration can lead to a final piece that is neither interactively stimulating, nor narratively coherent.

At the heart of determining whether or not a narrative will be able to function within an interactive framework are the core challenges associated with audience agency. Taking traditional videogame structure as an example, the loss of direct authorial control over your protagonist or world elements, even in seemingly minor ways, immediately introduces potential disconnects in the story being told and the ways in which the player chooses to interact with their surroundings. Player expression, the ability for individual players to have different gameplay experiences depending on their personal choices and playstyles, are a fundamental aspect of what makes videogames interactively engaging. 

However, this freedom must be balanced in tandem with meaningful narrative development, often in the form of cutscenes (cinematic sections where the player has no input) or other semi-cinematic, non-player reliant segments, which give the player a reason for what they are doing (at least, in games which pursue this structure.) Not only can this be potentially disruptive to the user experience, but also damaging to the quality of the overarching narrative. Failing to account for these factors can result in lunonarrative dissonance: the lack of harmony between what the player is being told via the narrative, and the events they are experiencing and interacting with in gameworld. Contemporary examples of this kind of disconnect are notable in games like Watch Dogs 2 (2016) and the rebooted Tomb Raider series (2013). In Watch Dogs 2, the protagonist (along with his group, Dedsec) are portrayed as fun-loving ethical hackers out to hold corrupt megacorps accountable for their injustices. However, most of the game's missions involve taking out large groups of enemies in gunfights, and while the player character has some options in terms of non-lethal ranged weapons, a close-range takedown will always be lethal. Mercilessly slaughtering your way though levels – a playstyle that is encouraged by a broader lethal skill set – is hardly in keeping with your supposed ‘ethical values’ as hackers.

In the Tomb Raider reboot, which specifically chooses a more character-oriented approach than previous titles, the game portrays protagonist Lara Croft as being extremely inexperienced and uncomfortable in her efforts to survive after being stranded on a remote island off the coast of Japan. She is visibly shaken when confronted with the reality of needing to kill to stay alive, however within a few hours she is easily murdering her way though the island’s native population without a hint of remorse, all while the narrative of the game continues to portray her as a helpless young woman. 

Although this disconnect can often be detrimental to the overall experience, some games utilise this discordant relationship between narrative and experience to deepen their stories and make the player question their own actions. Games like Spec-Ops: The Line (2012) and Bioshock (2007) intentionally create this dissonance to highlight the game's themes to the player. In the case of Spec-Ops, the game initially portrays itself as a generic military action game before gradually introducing themes of morality and unjustifiable military violence, however the gameplay does not vary greatly as a result. This discordance allows the player to notice and consider the effects of their actions themselves, a far more effective narrative technique than simply forcing the player down a more ethical pathway. 

Similarly, in Bioshock, the overarching themes of the game primarily include criticising capitalist hierarchy, American exceptionalism, and free market extremism, while the gameplay encourages the player to lie, cheat and steal their way though the levels, with moments of apparent moral choice having little to no effect on the overall outcome of the narrative. This disconnect can be interpreted as a form of meta-criticism on the players’ own complicity in the themes they are supposed to be fighting against. Although some have pointed to this ludonarrative dissonance as a potential flaw with the game’s overall message, Bioshock remains a cult classic example of interactive storytelling, thanks in large part to its ‘Would You Kindly…’ twist – a revelation that your companion, Atlas, has in fact been controlling your actions throughout the game by way of a post-hypnotic trigger phrase. 

The ability that videogames have to create scenarios within which ‘contained choice’ narratives can play out is currently unmatched in scope by any other form of mainstream media. The refinement of accessibility and performant factors, such as the increasing power of modern computing hardware, the evolution of controllers and inclusive input methods, and the recent advancements in portability with the releases of the Nintendo Switch (2017) and Steam Deck (2022) consoles, have all contributed in the formation of the most effective delivery method for modern interactive storytelling. 

However, the variance in potential choices and freedoms that a simulated game environment provides can be scaled well past the point of linear narrative storytelling, creating more user-driven experiences that are more akin to live action roleplay than traditional authorial content. Games with this level of narrative freedom have proven to be some of the industries greatest success stories, with titles like Minecraft still possessing an underlying (if esoteric) narrative, however granting the player total freedom to completely ignore the story and interact with the game in whatever way they like. In taking this approach, Minecraft is a great example of how players can tell their own stories within an open-ended simulated environment, potentially discovering the more narrative aspects of the game in the process, rather than having the game attempt to funnel the player towards an arbitrary ‘ending.’ 

The main source of this narrative content is found in the appropriately named realm of ‘The End’ – an endgame dimension that is only accessible by locating a rare underground fortress structure and repairing the portal within. Only once defeating the final boss within this realm will the game utilise traditional storytelling methods in the form of an endgame cutscene which relates to the game’s overall themes of individual player expression and personal discovery. While this cutscene is hardly representative of a grand overarching narrative, it does represent a form of storytelling structure that acts as both a loose end goal for the player, as well as a reiteration of the focus on the player’s individual journey that led to this point. 

This idea can be taken a step further by stripping back any form of narrative structure entirely in favour of pure player expression. The post-apocalyptic multiplayer survival game DayZ is the ultimate demonstration of this. DayZ features absolutely no narrative framework of any kind – the player loads into an enormous 225km2 map, populated only by AI controlled zombies, and only around 60 other human players. The only goal is to survive. 

While 60 potentially hostile other players may sound like a lot in isolation, the enormous scale of the gameworld makes each encounter with another person stand out; you might stumble across a potential ally on the coastline, or brave a large-scale shootout deep within the map's most populated areas – that is, if your newfound teammate hasn’t already stabbed you in the back. These player-driven narratives are what makes DayZ so unique: the nature of the game itself pushes players towards emergent interactions based around individuality and organic chemistry, rather than forcing its players to strictly either cooperate or face off, as is the structure of many online PvP (player versus player) games. 

It might be natural to assume that since DayZ features no intrinsic story or narrative progression, it relies solely on the authorial will of its players to define its narratives. However, this mindset would forgo the most important aspect of any videogame’s ability to tell stories: the simulated environment. The development team may not know exactly how individual player experiences will play out when designing the simulation, however they are able to manipulate the world in which those stories will take place. 

By changing and tweaking gameplay elements, such as player spawn points (the locations that players can restart from upon death), areas of high and low value loot, points of interest around the map etc., developers can create and tailor the setting to elicit different gameplay experiences. For example, in an environment where high-tier items and weapons are very scarce, players will naturally be more hostile and self-centred, in comparison to an environment where loot is abundant in which players may be more inclined to socialise and take risks by interacting with others since the penalty for death and loss of loot is lower. 

While the official gameplay of DayZ revolves around the principles of scarcity and caution, player-owned servers have proven the power of the simulated environment by altering the aforementioned characteristics, even implementing new mechanics to support these interactions such as server-wide trading posts where combat is prohibited completely. As highlighted by Pixel Fabula in an interview with prolific DayZ streamer TheRunningManZ, the truly open ended nature of the game’s experience can be summed up by focusing on the only constant every character must eventually meet, a constant that highlights the true extent of simulated player agency: “This is the story of how you died.” 

The ability for videogames to tell compelling stories has come on leaps and bounds since the genre's inception. What was once seen as an entertaining gimmick has now grown into one of the biggest global media sectors – and a legitimate option for storytellers who are able to balance the medium’s complexities.