I love the discussion of Journey in this section of the book. I especially like how Isbister connects Jenova Chen’s intent to make the player feel small to the game’s ability to encourage collaboration. I think it’s an excellent mechanic, and I’d like to explore it a bit more.
When I play a video game, I’m instantly drawn to those scenes and mechanics that have me interacting with others, whether they be NPCs or other characters. I was the kid who couldn’t pull myself away from Hyrule Castle Town when it came time to find a new dungeon, because I’d rather be where all of the action was instead of in some musty dungeon. Games that make me feel alone make me feel empty. So that first time I saw another person inside Journey, I ran to them and chirped over and over as quickly as the controls would let me.
Having the other player be the only other sign of friendly life in the entirety of the game is a powerful enough mechanic on its own, but the vastness of Journey’s landscape, the sheer amount of emptiness that game allows me to feel- all of those things combine to magnify my need to interact with someone else. I can go through the Fire Temple now if it means I can have another chat with Darunia after emerging victorious. But after moving on to another level in Journey, and another, and another, the silence is deafening.
How Games Move Us talks about a certain reliance on each other that Journey imposes on its players. This is more directly shown when player characters can be seen huddling together in the more difficult levels. But I think that reliance is more than just a preprogrammed characteristic of the avatars. Players rely on each other to fill the emptiness, to more or less make that experience for them.
At least for me, I felt like Journey was utilizing introspective-focusing mechanics to drive players together.