It’s funny how I can enjoy a game like Braid so much yet still have so many fundamental disagreements with its creator’s view of game design.

Jonathan Blow makes a number of thought-provoking points during his hour long lecture, Conflicts in Game Design. Though I would love to dissect and discuss every little idea he brings up, there’s one argument in particular which really stuck with me.

In regards to straight-forward narratives in gaming, Blow argues that story and challenge are at odds. While the narrative wants to progress, the difficulty of video games push back. To him, this relationship is so unsound that it inherently prevents good stories from being expressed in the medium.

I respect the developer’s opinion, but I absolutely do not agree with it.

A game’s difficulty and the challenges it presents its audience doesn’t impede story; it is story.

In a simplified context of traditional narrative, a successful story is built on a risk/reward system. The protagonist wants something to happen and with each decision and step they take, they either get closer to realizing that outcome or get pushed further back.

An outside force or event usually starts the process -- knocking the protagonist’s life out of balance -- but the character in question is the one that ends it. Throughout the story, they try to regain the balance in their life by making risky decision against antagonizing forces that they believe will turn the tide in their favor. Obviously, small risks are taken first, but they build to a last resort which holds huge implications for the character and ultimately defines who they are.

In this sense, video games are perfect for expressing an involving story. The player isn’t supposed to empathize with the protagonist like other mediums; they should be the main character as if everything is happening directly to them. It’s not good enough to simply tell the player the huge risks the main character’s taking. In a video game, the player needs to undertake the task themselves and experience the risks firsthand.

My interpretation comes from worshipping the SNES as a child, watching Quentin Tarantino movies behind my parents’ backs, and reading great books like Story by Robert McKee and Stephen King’s On Writing with gaming in mind. I’m also well aware that a great story can come in many different ways and interpretations can be a lot less formal than mine.

But this framework helps me understand why a seemingly well-designed game like 2008’s Prince of Persia failed to engage me. Having the Prince’s partner, Elika, save him from certain doom throughout the game eliminates the need for frustrating game over screens and endless load times. But at the same time, it rids the world of consequences, so I’m free to take as many risks as I want. Nothing in the world intimidates the Prince, making sure the gameplay is void of any emotion. Getting through a section feels like work, and though the game has a fairly lovely story, it fails in the framing of a video game.

Mind you, by difficulty, I don’t mean enemies that spam cheap attacks or being a target for every grenade in Japan. True challenge in a video game comes from familiarizing yourself with a gameplay system, and then having your prowess tested just enough through situations exclusive to that structure. A game doesn’t need to kill the player hundreds of times to be considered challenging, but the developer can’t be afraid to push their players past their limits.

In Resident Evil 4, I only died a few times during my initial playthrough, but every moment of that game was wrought with tension because of the excellent pacing. Through gameplay, the developer illustrates early in the game the basics of dispatching an enemy, how to use the environment to your advantage, and to be effective with your weapon.

The player soon engages in a battle of survival in a small village packed with hostiles. You burn through your limited inventory quick and eventually find yourself facing down a handful of villagers with nary a prayer left. You fought an exciting, adrenaline-pumping battle, but it’s obvious you have failed as the villagers inch ever closer to you.

But then it ends.

The Ganados are drawn away from the battle, leaving you with shot nerves and soiled trousers. Right from the outset, the player learns to respect the game’s challenges and fear death, making their journey and accomplishments that much more rewarding. The game is so memorable because it consistently pushes the player to the brink but allows them to use their wit and determination to succeed without dying multiple times.

RE4 is a testament to how the steady progression of difficulty can help elevate a gaming experience to new, visceral levels. The story is definitely on the goofy side, but the emotion of fear it sets out to invoke in the player is as potent as any horror film or book.

Blow has a few good arguments, but in the grand scheme of things, I don’t believe this is one of them.