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Crafting a Fabula
By Corvus | February 5, 2009
We, as a culture, spend a lot of time thinking about how our stories are told. We pursue the smallest details of a director’s creative process, obsess over the emotional turmoils of our actors, and pore over the postmortems of our video game developers… Well, that last one might not quite apply to us as a culture. But we are somewhat in awe with the creative process and are particularly enthralled when the resulting narrative touches us personally.
What we don’t do is examine how much work goes into being a good audience. When I describe the storytelling process as a communication between storyteller and audience, I intend that to mean that the audience’s involvement is of equal, or perhaps even greater, importance as the storyteller’s. If this weren’t the case, then storytellers would only need tell their stories only to themselves and have no reason to hone their skills and improve their craft. This is equally as true of literature as it is theater, cinema, television, and video games.
I have often referred to fabula, without spending a truly significant amount of time exploring what I mean by it. I’m about to correct that oversight. I first came across the term fabula in Umberto Eco’s introduction to his collection of essays titled The Role of the Reader. [1] After presenting some pretty heady ideas (in both the intellectual and inebriating sense) on discursive structures, intertexual frames, ideological overcoding, and semantic disclosures, Eco started in on narrative structure with a look at fabula:
[...] the difference proposed by Russian formalists between fabula (story) and sjuzet (plot or discourse).
The fabula is the basic story stuff, the logic of actions or the syntax of characters, the time-oriented course of events. [...] The plot is the story as actually told, along with all its deviations, digressions, flashback, and the whole of the verbal devices.
For our multi-media purposes, we can replace “verbal devices” in the above quote with “verbal, visual, audible, and mechanical devices.” If we were to stop our exploration here, we would be left with the impression that the fabula was an immutable story, encoded in the sjuzet. It would not surprise me to learn that many storytellers would very much prefer this to be true.
But of course, we don’t stop there. Eco goes on to explore several more ideas, including that different fabula are possible when the text is viewed at different levels of abstraction. He then goes on to talk about the idea that really resonated with my developing theories about why video game mechanics were a powerful narrative tool.
The fabula is not produced once the text has been definitely read: the fabula is the result of a continuous series of abductions made during the course of the reading. [...] the reader collaborates in the course of the fabula , making forecasts about the forthcoming state of affairs.
I’m going to rephrase that passage.
The story is not produced after the book/movie/game is finished. The story is built as a direct product of the audience’s imagination during the course of experiencing the narrative. The audience actively collaborates in the development of the story.
This is no less or more true of video games than it is of books. Eco goes on to say that the audience builds a fabula, even when the text is lengthy non-fiction, or even a short list. In the past I’ve compared Tetris‘s narrative to a grocery list. Just saying…
Now, good storytellers can go any number of things to influence what fabula the audience will produce. They use archetypal characters, familiar plot structures, and culturally recognizable metaphors. But they may also do so by using references that their audience isn’t familiar with. They may do so using references that are repellent to portions or their audience, while deeply compelling to others. They may do so poorly and create a story that can only be accepted by the most forgiving of audiences. Take, for example, the following…
Carl walked into the dark alley,
You’ve likely now produced a mental image that supports that sentence. You are building a story. I am merely providing you with a narrative. And now I’m about to blow it.
Carl walked into the dark alley, squinting against the light coming from the 4,000 watt searchlight.
Suddenly you’re expected to believe a story where a dark alley somehow contains a 4,000 watt searchlight. Now, you’re a creative bunch and could likely figure out a scenario where an alley could remain dark while still containing a search light capable of blinding someone walking into it. But the point is, you’re doing the work to make sense of the text, not me.
Let’s look at another example from a fictitious 1930s pulp detective novel titled Gunshot At Midnight.
Jack was a short man,
Depending on your impression of/experience with pulp detective novels, the 1930s, short men, and people named Jack, you’ve likely formed something of a mental picture.
Jack was a short man, with a bitter laugh.
I would be willing to bet you’re now picturing Jack’s face more clearly. Perhaps hearing his laughter. You may even be imagining the sort of person he is based upon the knowledge that his laugh is bitter.
Jack was a short man, with a bitter laugh. All his life, Jack felt uncomfortable in his own skin.
Do you perhaps feel a twinge of sympathy for Jack? Are you smoothing out his temperament a bit? Imagining for him a self-conscious mannerism?
Jack was a short man, with a bitter laugh. All his life, Jack felt uncomfortable in his own skin. When he graduated from college, fifteen years ago now,
Now you can approximate his age and have likely altered his appearance a bit to compensate. Perhaps you’ve also altered his social status now that you know he’s a college graduate?
Jack was a short man, with a bitter laugh. All his life, Jack felt uncomfortable in his own skin. When he graduated from college, fifteen years ago now, Jack vowed that one day, he would be able to hold his head up high when went out in public and not be ashamed of who he was.
Do you have a more complicated picture of Jack’s emotional life? Perhaps you’re beginning to imagine where this is headed, what Jack will do to honor his vow?
Jack was a short man, with a bitter laugh. All his life, Jack felt uncomfortable in his own skin. When he graduated from college, fifteen years ago now, Jack vowed that one day, he would be able to hold his head up high when went out in public and not be ashamed of who he was. Now, tonight, after considerable expense, and even more considerable courage,
More details about the type of man Jack must be…
Jack was a short man, with a bitter laugh. All his life, Jack felt uncomfortable in his own skin. When he graduated from college, fifteen years ago now, Jack vowed that one day, he would be able to hold his head up high when went out in public and not be ashamed of who he was. Now, tonight, after considerable expense, and even more considerable courage, he finally would be able to do so for the very first time–as Jacqueline Finn.
Everything you were picturing has just been replace by a completely new image of Jack. You’re scrambling to reconcile the new information. You’re also probably having an emotional reaction to the narrative itself, if not the storyteller who would stoop to such a ploy. One more addition and we’ll leave Jacqueline alone.
Jack was a short man, with a bitter laugh. All his life, Jack felt uncomfortable in his own skin. When he graduated from college, fifteen years ago now, Jack vowed that one day, he would be able to hold his head up high when went out in public and not be ashamed of who he was. Now, tonight, after considerable expense, and even more considerable courage, he finally would be able to do so for the very first time–as Jacqueline Finn. This would also be Jacquelin’s last night to do hold her head high, for tonight, exactly at midnight, she would die.
Now you’ve got a piece of information to add to your story that hasn’t actually happened within the narrative yet. You might even be imagining that Jacqueline is going to be killed by the gunshot referenced in the title. However, you’ve also been surprised (perhaps twice) by the narrative already, so you might not be so certain. Regardless, everything that the narrative presents from this point, until the time Jacqueline’s death is described, will be examined with this new piece of information in mind. You’ll be analyzing each new piece of information in the narrative wondering if it’s related, and whether newly introduced characters will be her killer.
Now, your involvement with this narrative, your construction of the story, is in no way going to alter the outcome of Jacqueline’s life. The plot will remain as fixed as the words upon the page. But the story you’re creating is uniquely yours and belongs to this reading of it, and this reading of it only.
The next time you read this story, not only will you be aware of the twists and turns in the plot, your life experience may have altered your perceptions. Perhaps when you first read the book, you had no emotional attachment to Jacqueline, or even felt a measure of distaste. Between readings, however, you may have attended school with a brave, but temperamental, transgendered woman. Getting to know this woman, watching her overcome her insecurities and slowly build friendships, might have given you a new appreciation for Jacqueline. Perhaps this time you might even feel the tug of sorrow when she’s pushed over the railing and the gun in her purse goes off, killing the police officer standing nearby…
Oops. There you go again, adding more information to your story.
But you understand the point–creating a fabula is the process by which the audience interacts with the storytelling process, regardless of the medium.
When viewed this way, it becomes easy to see why I view all storytelling as a communication between author and audience. In most mediums, the author never gets to directly hear the audience’s part of the conversation, but that doesn’t mean the audience isn’t talking.
[1] You can read most of the introduction online using the Google Book Search Preview. [1]
Tagged:fabula, storytelling. | 24 Comments »
February 5th, 2009 at 7:09 am
Justin, I’ll be following up with a game-specific fabula post next week at some point, using our Passage experiences as an example.
February 5th, 2009 at 7:12 am
Corvus, that’s the most lucid explication I’ve ever read of that idea. Congratulations and thanks! It really makes me think games can advance not just our art but our theory of it.
February 5th, 2009 at 7:39 am
I just want to say that the idea of fabula has altered the way I write my fiction and plot my RPGs. Because I don’t just think about the plot, but about what I’d like the fabula of my audience to be at this point.
This works better for the pen and paper sessions, since I know the people involved intimately, but it does inform my other writing. Something about fabula strikes me as intuitively correct, though, and I appreciate this analysis of it.
February 5th, 2009 at 7:54 am
I wanted to bring the introduction to Spelunky, into this conversation. The side-scroller itself is essentially all plot and circumstance, but with three randomly generated lines at first load-up, you get a rich (yet vague) taste at the character’s background.
For instance,
“With fate guiding my every move, I dismounted my camel, and wondered how long I’d be below.”
“With fate guiding my every move, I paid my bedouin guide, and vowed to return victorious.”
“My lips cracked and covered with sand, I furrowed my brow, and felt the gods smiling upon me.”
Those were three I generated just now, and they all give different nudges to the fabula.
February 5th, 2009 at 9:57 am
That was an excellent description, Corvus, and thanks for doing that. Perhaps this is just semantics, but does that seem like a truly interactive experience, though? I mean, as you say the audience is interacting (I would say, interacting with the plot to create their own version of the fabula), although not always with the author. And if the author is not listening to that part of the conversation, is it really a bidirectional communication (or conversation)?
February 5th, 2009 at 10:35 am
Thanks for the comments, everyone!
@Rubes I’m fine with getting into semantics, but that’s going to require you to better explain what you mean by “truly interactive.” I suspect you’re attaching extra meaning to that phrase based upon your experience with IF. Your assessment of the audience interaction feels correct to me, although I do feel that saying “their own version of the fabula” is a bit redundant as “their own version” is implied by the use of the word fabula within this context.
But you do make a good overall point. This is a more abstracted, or crystallized conversation than we are used to thinking of. And, as I am attempting to build a theoretical framework that encompasses all storytelling efforts, from campfire tales to mass media, it’s something that needs to be addressed. The conversation between author and audience is codified and contained within the textual/visual/audible/mechanical narrative. In most cases, the author is not directly and personally aware of the audience’s side of the conversation. This does not mean that that the conversation isn’t bidirectional, it simply means that the form of the narrative isn’t well suited to immediate bidirectionality.
The audience always has the option of sending a letter or email to the author in hopes that their experience will somehow impact the author’s own idea of the story inherent in the plot, or that the author will validate their fabula (although I’d contend that the author’s intent is no more important than the fabula and therefore validation is unnecessary).
So, is it bidirectional (regardless of personal correspondence)? I’d argue it is, even if the flow of communication is much stronger in one direction than the other.
February 5th, 2009 at 11:02 am
Okay, good points. I’ll try to expand.
First, I guessit might help to better express fabula for me. For one, in the main text you take Eco’s quote about fabula and replace it with the word “story”, so I’m assuming you equate fabula and story. My sense of fabula was closer to that described by Eco, “the basic story stuff, the logic of actions or the syntax of characters, the time-oriented course of events.” That is, the actions and events that underlie the narrative. So you’re saying that fabula is not that, but instead is the individual audience member’s interpretation of the underlying “story stuff” through the narrative. Which is cool, that’s just why I said “their own version” of the fabula — with your definition, that’s already implied, and I’m fine with that definition.
As for “truly interactive”, I guess I was just keying off of what you said: “Creating a fabula is the process by which the audience interacts with the storytelling process, regardless of the medium.” To me, this interaction is probably more between the audience and the narrative, rather than the storytelling process; “truly interactive” to me would be more like what you just said above, an interaction with the storyteller, which perhaps could have an impact on the narrative. But in most cases I guess I don’t see that bidirectional communication, even in those cases where you say that it doesn’t mean it’s not bidirectional.
February 5th, 2009 at 11:16 am
So, first of all–Eco states that the Russian formalists make a distinction between fabula (story) and sjuzet (plot). So substituting story for fabula is not an approach I came up with on my own, but an integral part of understanding the basic form of fabula.
Secondly, Eco goes on to point out that as the reader responds to the narrative and interprets the fabula, they are doing so at various levels of abstraction and through the filters of their own understanding. This makes it nearly impossible to assert that fabula is something inherent in the text, given that every reading of the same text will stand to be radically different.
As far as “interacting with the storytelling process” goes, I consider the narrative to be the body of the storytelling process. It’s the actual presentable form of the conversation, whether it be a book,a film, or a game. The reason I challenged your use of “truly interactive” is that I felt I adequately described the quality and depth of interaction that I meant and your response of, “well that’s not truly interactive, is it” indicated there was some external gauge of interactivity that you felt I wasn’t measuring up to. Within the context of my explanation, what I’m describing is truly interactive… albeit on the shallow end of a rather large scale.
February 5th, 2009 at 11:55 am
It just occurred to me that there’s another reason I feel it’s important to frame storytelling as a communication.
So many approaches, particularly in video games, come down so thoroughly on the side of authoritative intent or total player freedom that there’s no real possibility of creating a meaningful experience. Casting it as a communication stresses that both side of the storytelling equation, author and audience, are important. It becomes a partnership, rather than a struggle for dominance.
And given that I believe video games will benefit from a tighter integration of emergent narrative (player controlled game mechanics) and linear narrative (plot as expressed via author controlled game mechanics or more traditional storytelling methods), it strikes me that this is a particularly useful means of framing the conversation. (pun intended).
But that’s likely a topic of conversation for a future post.
February 5th, 2009 at 3:27 pm
I agree that a perfect integration of emergent narrative and linear narrative would be the Holy Grail for Narrative Design, but I’ve long thought that the recent success of Sandbox style games and MMOs has left the straight up linear narrative in games rather derided.
If someone where to ask me, I’d say that Emergent narrative is not qualitatively different, in terms of Fabula, than the linear narrative you’d find in a book, movie, or even a commercial. The message (at least one of them) that I took away from this post was that the audience has, to some degree, the final say in how the narrative appears to them, whether I want to think of Jack as a private eye, because he seems to fit that archetype is a certain amount of control I have, and whether I go down path A or path B in a game is a greater amount of control, but the difference is still merely quantity, not quality.
I get the feeling most gamers would prefer a solid linear narrative over a shaky emergent one, but that’s kind of begging the question, I suppose. I’m starting to wonder if emergent vs. linear narrative is even a useful opposition to keep in mind, but I’m still not sure.
February 5th, 2009 at 3:31 pm
As far as I’ve understood the concept as it related to literature, the bi-directional communication occurs between the reader and the text. The text offers its story and the reader offers their experience, creating the fabula.
That process is also at work in the text’s creation as the writer exchanges with the text in process.
February 5th, 2009 at 3:52 pm
@William I believe that the idea of emergent and linear narrative are in opposition is beyond useless and absolutely harmful to the development of video games as a storytelling medium. In fact, I don’t think they should ever be considered separate. I believe there is simply narrative, and that some of it is expressed through emergence and some of it through more traditional forms.
@Travis Yes, that is one way of looking at it. I still prefer to think of it as author and audience communicating via the narrative, because it continues to acknowledge the author’s influence through the ideology and themes encoded within the text/visuals/audio/mechanics.
February 5th, 2009 at 4:01 pm
Oh definitely, I didn’t mean to imply there wasn’t communication between them. I just wanted to help clarify that there is bi-directional communication directly between reader and text. I meant to direct my comment toward what Rubes said further up.
It’s exciting to think that the process of creation doesn’t end when the writer is done with the text, but continues onward with everyone who experiences it.
February 5th, 2009 at 4:56 pm
Thank you for that Corvus, you seem to have vocalised a concept I’ve always felt was obvious.
The subjective story the reader discovers as they progress through the plot is going to be unique to each person. The author can influence and shape that but ultimately has no direct control over the form each individual fabula takes. Is that a fair way of describing it?
Considered like that the parallels to video games strike me as very clear. Game designers cannot directly affect the experience the player has in the game. Their role is that of influencing and shaping the possible experiences. Each players fabula being one of an infinite number that exist within the bounded space defined by the rules of the game and the players own personality.
The act of play is the act of discovering the fabula.
February 5th, 2009 at 5:01 pm
@Justin If I could quickly draw a little ASCII guy pointing at his nose and pointing at you, and trust that WP wouldn’t mangle it… I’d do it.
So what remains to explore, is how do we encode meaning into game mechanics so that we can help guide the player towards developing a meaningful fabula while they explore our narratives.
I have some theories, of course…
February 5th, 2009 at 9:50 pm
I tend to agree that talking about Emergent and Linear Narrative as in opposition isn’t helpful (I feel the same way about Nature vs. Nurture).
However, now thinking about it, I feel like there IS a difference in a game (or any kind of narrative) that is left highly up to interpretation versus one where the narrative is presented in a straightforward fashion, and it’s left up to the audience to fill in small gaps, and determine how they feel about the narrative.
Compare Braid (as if that horse hasn’t been beaten to death on this blog already) or If On A Winter’s Night A Traveler (great book by Italo Calvino, I reccomend it) to Portal or Chinatown. All four things have artistic merit, but the first two are HUGELY dependant on how the audience wants to interpret them, while the second two are largely set in stone. While the amount of control the audience has in these cases is still just an issue of quantity, not quality, I think a qualitative difference emerges when you consider narratives that are intentionally disigned to be “interpreted”, and ones that are not.
Given that the message of your opinion on Fabula is that EVERYTHING is “interpreted”, what room is there for this distinction? Are people crafting entirely straightforward, linear narratives just misguided in assuming they’re just trying to permanently affix a story to some medium? I’m curious to hear your opinion on the matter.
February 5th, 2009 at 10:39 pm
Generally speaking, in the case of linear narratives, I think the better the writer the more control he or she exercises over the audience’s interpretation. The author can leave certain elements open, but a good author does that deliberately and purposefully. If someone can draw from the story meanings which are, not merely different, but in opposition to what the author intends, then that’s sloppy writing.
Games ideally place more narrative influence in the audience’s hands, but the same basic principle applies. A good game designer is in control of what influence the audience has… and that goes as much for interpretation as for direction.
I’ve never heard the terms you mention, but I’d say the sjuzet serves the fabula. The former is like a frame, the latter like the picture. Let players frame it how they want, but the picture should generally be provided. That doesn’t necessarily mean a linear narrative. It can mean a setting which reflects and comments on the player’s actions in a scripted fashion.
February 6th, 2009 at 4:11 am
@William There are obvious considerable differences in approach. You’re essentially referring to the open text, versus the closed text, which is the focus of the Eco essays from which I’m drawing, and building on, my interpretation of fabula.
I’ve come to think of this as there being only one plot in a game, with two different narrative toolsets for helping the audience explore it. On the one end of the spectrum you’ve got Final Fantasy, where the plot is presented entirely using linear narrative tools. On the other end you’ve got Tetris, where the ‘plot’ is presented entirely using emergent narrative tools.
@Aaron I’m hesitant to say the better writer exerts more control. I think a good writer certainly can more effectively exert her control, but crafting an open text requires a lot of skill as well, should that be her goal.
I quite like your frame/picture analogy for sjuzet/fabula. If you do some digging on the terms, you’ll find that the formalists actually seemed to regard sjuzet as more important than fabula and there’s a lot of backlash against the use of the term fabula because of it. Eco, I feel, raised it to equal importance through his interpretation. With my focus on audience experience, I’m quite possibly raising fabula to higher importance than plot.
Because, as you say, a good writer must carefully choose how she intends to convey her plot by working with the audience in order to help them build their fabula.
February 6th, 2009 at 12:47 pm
Wow, did this post ever get me thinking Corvus! I replied in a somewhat extended fashion to the post, as well as these excellent comments/questions, over at my own home on the range:
http://www.artfulgamer.com/2009/02/06/the-storied-imagination-finding-meaning-in-games/
February 6th, 2009 at 1:12 pm
Thanks Chris! That’s a very insightful post and right on target.
February 7th, 2009 at 5:25 am
[...] of exploration and discovery it is entirely possible for that mental process, our own mechanical fabula to be changed by external knowledge of the system. It is possible to have mechanics [...]
February 7th, 2009 at 12:59 pm
This notion of fabula has got me thinking about serialization, something that has fallen out of fashion in literature (with the exception of EXTREMELY long form fiction :cough: Wheel of Time :cough:) but has had a bit of a revival in television. The beauty of serialization is that, like the paragraph from Gunshot that you described, it allows the audience to interact with the story in progress in a more self-conscious way because they are forced to have down time to reflect. There is even more room for interaction when the serialized material is experienced by a group audience who can then have a conversation about it before the next installment.
I imagine this is part of what goes on over at the Vintage Game Club which I’ve not yet had the time to engage with. Stopping to discuss the plot at discrete points along the way makes the fabula even more evident (if I’m reading you right that the fabula is created by the in the moment interaction).
What I’m wondering is if you think something new emerges when you combine the self-conscious awareness of fabula with the interactivity of games. I know this is part of your larger concern with storytelling, but is it possible to be *too* self consciously aware of that interaction? That is, can there be an issue with second guessing in that you start to feel out the plot, interpret it in your own fabulus way, and then have to make choices – but do you make choices on how you feel about where the story is going or how you think the designer wanted the story to go, or wants you to feel about where they want the story to go, etc?
February 8th, 2009 at 4:48 am
As someone who is frequently hears, “You think too much about it. Don’t you ever just relax and enjoy a movie,” I’d have to argue that you can’t be too self aware. I actively enjoy engaging with my media on an introspective level and feel I get much more out of it because I do.
That being said, if the media is quite good, I usually let go and enjoy it while it’s happening and explore it afterward. And if the media isn’t that good and it doesn’t seem to me to be worth exploring afterward, I don’t waste my time.
Regardless, being aware of your fabula isn’t just about guessing where the plot is heading. It’s also about identifying with, and emotionally investing in, the characters.
February 16th, 2009 at 10:26 pm
“The next time you read this story, not only will you be aware of the twists and turns in the plot, your life experience may have altered your perceptions”
I guess the first time a narrative is “read” it is experienced with a Fabula Rasa? (I couldn’t resist)