As if in direct answer to the lack of compelling narrative present in the first episode, Poppy Playtime has a few videos that just spell out relevant lore in a documentarian fashion. (Because you know, all those toy companies out there just love self-producing autobiographies on their boring founders. It happens all the time.) One video in particular announced and then blurs the face of the sole creator. Why? What does that achieve? I mean it creates mystery around what this enigmatic and important figure in the poppy universe looks like; but when is there an actual video within the game's universe that has been specifically edited to blur out the face of the creator? Just lying on the floor in an abandoned toy shop? It's a mystery, no doubt; some might even considering it a fascinating conundrum; if it wasn't for the fact that we know there is no sensible reason. At the end of the day it's a mystery hook, fed on a line to the community. It feels blatant and uninspired, which in turn makes it less appealing and un-immersive. The same with the line-up of tunnels all leading to various workplaces and all labelled with the name of the managers they belong to. All except one who's words have been knocked off the wall and lay scattered on the floor. You can just hear the developer going "Look at this one! Go one, pick up the words and arrange them! I wonder if it spells out 'Cassidy'... names are exciting, aren't they?" The desire is there, but the passion feels borrowed.
Hello Neighbour is perhaps the most eyewatering example of this phenomena, in that we all know the sins of the developers as it was splayed to on social media for everyone to see. This is a game that began life with an interesting premise of an evolving AI pursuant but lost itself to vague symbolic imagery with the most cookie-cutter pay-off imaginable come release. All because MatPat made a theory video in its early Alpha days and that influx of critical observation totally overhauled the purpose behind development. We even saw some shameful moments where a certain member of the team was literally tweeting at MatPat trying to goad him into making another theory fodder video, all to justify their whisky washy 'mystery' building meta goals. All as the raw gameplay which original caught fan's attention seemed to slip to the wayside and end up feeling pretty unpolished. I'd argue theories did kill that game.
And theories may been behind the success of Bendy and the Ink Machine, if a lot of it's jank and inconsistencies. (It did pretty well despite it's significant content lacking hang-ups in the content of the game beyond being an interactive walk-around.) The development team here actually listened heavily to the feedback of their audience to not only work on elements that people thought the game was missing, but to literally tell the team what to put into the episodes inbetween. These developers went in with an idea of how their adventure would start and how it would end, and the people filled in the blanks inbetween by falling in love with Alice Angel one episode, or writing fan theories about Boris in another episode. There's nothing inherently wrong this approach to storytelling, in fact I practise it myself and so I'm inclined to defend it. But the whole 'crowd sourcing for direction' thing might be a better idea on paper. The whole meta narrative of Joey Drew's life story falls entirely to the wayside in the middle episodes so that we fall into 'fan fiction feeling' side adventures with these bizarre and not entirely developed characters which doesn't really feel like it contributes to the themes or narrative by the end of the story. The entire breadth of the game feels like a diversion because theories and fan demands pulled it around a bit with seemingly no central director. (Even though I know the game did have a director! What was he doing?) Taking ideas for you game is fine, in fact I'd say it's great; but crowd sourcing filler for your narrative is how you get... well 'Bendy'; a game that feels like a fan-rewriting of Undertale. (A prospect I shiver to even imagine.)
Lastly we have FNAF Security Breach, and this is an example I more leave to MatPat's observations to justify. It's fairly obvious to see that Security Breach was something of a rush job, from the copious numbers of bugs skittering across it's metal frame to the abrupt cartoon panel epilogue adorning all but the truest of true endings. Matt has a hypothesis for why that could be which he shared in his video on the topic, and it really does make some sense. In the lead up to Security Breach there was a great influx of theorists across the Internet speculating on what the story may hold, and they came up with several realistic theorems as to who certain characters would be, where their roles would lead them and even how the game itself would wrap up. A lot of these theories were based on logical and satisfying narrative progression, and thus the conclusions they drew were not only logical; a lot of them felt like best case scenario depictions of where Security Breach could take FNAF. Matt seems to think that this spooked Steel Wool Studios, who want so desperate to own their story and surprise their audience, which led to the narrative being kept liquid until the last possible moment of development, resulting in a final game that feels disjointed and ill-fitting towards it's own narrative. FNAF VR spent a whole game telling the story of Vanessa becoming the Bunny-killer Vanny, only for Security Breach to half-heartedly throw a twist ending where they aren't the same person but instead... two completely identical blonde women? Pretty much every ending has this logical progression that feels ripped out to fit in a surprise reveal that doesn't really make sense, to the extent that even the canonical ending kind of falls flat. Oh, this whole complex it built on-top of Fazbear Frights? And Afton is burnt to death again? The "I always come back!" guy? The one who has been burnt to death twice beforehand? Something tells me he ain't gone. Just a hunch.
There is nothing wrong with inspiring an audience to such a degree that they want to theories on your work and interact with it in a meaningful way, but I think when you start to let that influence what it is you're creating it threatens to infect and sometimes sully the creative process unless you're very disciplined with yourself. Loyalty should always lie first and foremost to the piece of art itself, above even the fans that have attached themselves to it, and if you respect what you're working on and the audience you've developed you own it to stay that course. Theory begging is not only kind of cringe-worthy, it's sometimes a detriment to the entire creative process that poisons once great ideas for the wrong reasons of being more talked about instead being a talk-worthy product to begin with.
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