In a world where story-based gaming often falls short, Alan Wake stands as a beacon of hope

The predominant ethos of video game development bases itself on the personalization of the player experience. Like everyone else, I’ve accepted and enjoyed this popular philosophy without considering the cost of my selfish gaming. By prioritizing the needs of individual gamers, developers sacrifice a large portion of their regulatory control, thereby impeding structurally sound storytelling.

It was Alan Wake that inspired this epiphany.

I didn't simply like Alan Wake; I respected it. This game prioritized story and creator vision over the unstructured wasteland of player subjectivity. It was the creators, not I, who held the reigns. They told a story while I navigated the established path at a rate they deemed appropriate.

Was it a perfect game? Not really. However, the things it got right are gaming attributes often diluted behind claims of experience personalization, non-stop action, or hours of gameplay.

Below are those attributes -- three characteristics of Alan Wake I hope become common ideals for contemporary developers.

There’s more to pacing than action pacing.

One of the first things you quickly notice about Alan Wake is its use of slow, character-driven gameplay.

Shortly before arriving at Bright Falls, you find yourself on a ferry. You can move about freely as you talk with your wife and take in the beautiful scenery. Eventually, she asks you to get in position for a photo with a stranger leaning against the ferry’s bow, so you walk into place as she snaps a picture.

The stranger introduces himself as a local radio personality, and you turn to face him for a brief conversation in which you deny his request for a possible interview.

This seemingly trivial event could have been done with a short cutscene, and I applaud the Remedy team for deciding against it.

Stories -- at least good ones -- vary in pacing.  Exhibiting how gameplay can both abide by traditional story statutes, as well as present them in a way only video games can is a big step forward for this misunderstood art form.

Don’t be afraid of player restrictions.

Some of the most memorable moments in Alan Wake were those in which my mobility and access to the game environment were limited.

Some five minutes into the first episode, you find yourself locked inside a small building with a shadowy killer shouting threats from behind a closed door.

For a moment, moving forward is impossible. All you can do is collect a few items as you move from one side of the room to another. The doors are locked, you’re stuck, and you begin doubting your decision to seek refuge in this apparent deathtrap. That is until you hear a loud engine start, which motivates you to glance out the window where you see a bulldozer making its way toward the sealed box in which you find yourself imprisoned.

In the same manner that punctuation and paragraph breaks function as pacing tools in works of prose, the creators of Alan Wake did a fantastic job of utilizing restrictive gameplay as a means of dictating tempo.

Use the game environment to inspire pacing: The fight or flight trick.

During my “escape the police” experience -- with the sound of nearby law enforcement and sirens surrounding me -- I pulled a Michael Scofield and bolted the hell out of there. I kept running, even as the sirens and gunshots faded into the distance, until the sight of a crashing helicopter brought me to a standstill. 

Perched over a cliff’s edge, I stood unmoving as I watched the damaged helicopter topple trees and burst on impact.

That relatively short sequence left me drained. So much so I was reluctant to continue after witnessing the chopper’s demise. It was all me: the running, the dodging, the sudden stop. The developers hacked into my sense of urgency and compelled me to react instinctually.

Alan Wake’s environment orchestrated player behavior instead of being subjected to it. In this way, it saved us from the wishy-washiness sabotaging so many other gaming experiences.