In the study of literature, we frequently talk about paratext. The paratext comprises all those aspects of a book which don't form part of the literary text itself, but are nonetheless there to be read. Examples include the cover, chapter headings, page numbers, author biographies, and so on. All of these are examples of so-called paratext game Avatar 225 . Whether they are designed by the writer or editor or publisher doesn't matter; if they form part of the physical book--but not the actual work itself--then they are paratextual. Unsurprisingly, it's strikingly easy to transpose this notion of the paratext from novels onto video games. Like books, all video games have a paratext: the information that forms part of the product, but is not actually part of the gameworld. It's the stuff that surrounds the game. Examples of gaming paratext include publishers' logos flashing onscreen when you insert a disc, options menus, level titles, and the like. These things don't physically exist in the world of the game, but they form part of the object "the game" nonetheless. Paratext in gaming is most commonly employed by publishers and developers to self-advertise. They embed their logos within their products, often in highly creative ways. An early example of a Avatar 225 company taking creative advantage of the paratextual space is the original Sonic the Hedgehog, which opens with what is arguably the most famous publisher ident of all time. You're probably familiar with the white screen over which a distorted Sega logo gradually increases in clarity, and the sound of a group of digitally re-created voices simultaneously chanting the company name. Apparently, this used up a staggering percentage of the cartridge's available memory. Sega went one step further with Sonic 2 by adding the blue blur himself into the paratext: the Sega logo is swiftly revealed in the distortions that trail behind Sonic's zooming. This obviously required a great deal of effort and energy to animate--somebody at Sega was taking the paratext seriously. In many cases the gaming paratext may seem insignificant, but from a marketing and aesthetic perspective, putting time and energy into a game's paratext definitely pays off: almost every gamer in the world recognizes the famous Sega chant that precedes the original tai game Avatar 225. One of my favourite examples comes from Ubisoft's game Assassin's Creed: Revelations. Many people are familiar with the Ubisoft company logo that frequently pops onscreen at the start of their games; it's a kind of smooth, white, swirling movement accompanied by a pleasant electronic whooshing and pinging sound. When it comes game Avatar 222 to Assassin's Creed: Revelations, however, some clever individual had the fantastic idea of manipulating the Ubisoft logo in such a manner as to make it sympathetic with the events of the game. Usually publisher/developer idents are entirely separate from the gameworld, neither visually nor sonically consistent with the art style of the game in question. Assassin's Creed: Revelations, however, is different. In this game, the protagonist, Desmond, is comatose, trapped in the animus; something has gone very definitely wrong. A dead man is speaking to him, his ancestors' memories are all jumbled and out of whack, and Desmond himself has access to the deeper code structures of the programme. In a really cool reflection of this, the game opens not with the familiar Ubisoft logo, but with a deliberately glitched and distorted one. Not only is this a fantastic paratextual representation of the game's aesthetic themes, but it's also a great aid to player immersion. The animus is glitched and spreading into Desmond's mind--accordingly, these problems are also spreading into the paratextual aspects of the game, even the designers' logo. They're breaching the usual boundaries of the gamealo.net. Spilling the visual ideas of the game into its own paratext really gives the opening a kick. It functions as a beautiful microcosm for Revelations' story: just as the memories of Ezio and Altair and Desmond are converging, slipping over one another and glitching together, so too is the game's aesthetic spilling over into its own paratext game avatar. Great stuff.
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Unsurprisingly, it's strikingly easy to transpose this notion of the paratext from novels onto video games. Like books, all video games have a paratext: the information that forms part of the product, but is not actually part of the gameworld. It's the stuff that surrounds the game. Examples of gaming paratext include publishers' logos flashing onscreen when you insert a disc, options menus, level titles, and the like. These things don't physically exist in the world of the game, but they form part of the object "the game" nonetheless.
Paratext in gaming is most commonly employed by publishers and developers to self-advertise. They embed their logos within their products, often in highly creative ways. An early example of a Avatar 225 company taking creative advantage of the paratextual space is the original Sonic the Hedgehog, which opens with what is arguably the most famous publisher ident of all time. You're probably familiar with the white screen over which a distorted Sega logo gradually increases in clarity, and the sound of a group of digitally re-created voices simultaneously chanting the company name. Apparently, this used up a staggering percentage of the cartridge's available memory.
Sega went one step further with Sonic 2 by adding the blue blur himself into the paratext: the Sega logo is swiftly revealed in the distortions that trail behind Sonic's zooming. This obviously required a great deal of effort and energy to animate--somebody at Sega was taking the paratext seriously. In many cases the gaming paratext may seem insignificant, but from a marketing and aesthetic perspective, putting time and energy into a game's paratext definitely pays off: almost every gamer in the world recognizes the famous Sega chant that precedes the original tai game Avatar 225.
One of my favourite examples comes from Ubisoft's game Assassin's Creed: Revelations. Many people are familiar with the Ubisoft company logo that frequently pops onscreen at the start of their games; it's a kind of smooth, white, swirling movement accompanied by a pleasant electronic whooshing and pinging sound.
When it comes game Avatar 222 to Assassin's Creed: Revelations, however, some clever individual had the fantastic idea of manipulating the Ubisoft logo in such a manner as to make it sympathetic with the events of the game. Usually publisher/developer idents are entirely separate from the gameworld, neither visually nor sonically consistent with the art style of the game in question. Assassin's Creed: Revelations, however, is different.
In this game, the protagonist, Desmond, is comatose, trapped in the animus; something has gone very definitely wrong. A dead man is speaking to him, his ancestors' memories are all jumbled and out of whack, and Desmond himself has access to the deeper code structures of the programme. In a really cool reflection of this, the game opens not with the familiar Ubisoft logo, but with a deliberately glitched and distorted one.
Not only is this a fantastic paratextual representation of the game's aesthetic themes, but it's also a great aid to player immersion. The animus is glitched and spreading into Desmond's mind--accordingly, these problems are also spreading into the paratextual aspects of the game, even the designers' logo. They're breaching the usual boundaries of the gamealo.net. Spilling the visual ideas of the game into its own paratext really gives the opening a kick. It functions as a beautiful microcosm for Revelations' story: just as the memories of Ezio and Altair and Desmond are converging, slipping over one another and glitching together, so too is the game's aesthetic spilling over into its own paratext game avatar. Great stuff.