Beyond Diagonal Sciences: Applying Roger Caillois’s Concepts of Symmetry and Dissymmetry to Journey

Journey

Journey is an adventure game published in 2012 (for PlayStation [PS] 3) and 2015 (for PS4) by Sony Computer Entertainment and developed by the software houses Thatgamecompany, which was responsible for the previous Flow (2006) and Flower (2009), and Tricky Pixels (involved in the PS4 porting). It won several Game of the Year awards and achieved unanimous critical acclaim (metascore of 93% for PS3 version and 95% for PS4 version on www.gamerankings.com); it immediately became the fastest selling product on PS network according to Sony. Journey was the third game planned in an agreement between Thatgamecompany and the Japanese major; although the former was a small team that could be considered independent in terms of size, the latter provided significant resources (see Mallory, 2013) with the aim to support innovative productions.

The game asks the user to undertake a path through a desert playing as a mysterious hooded character; the destination is a mountain always visible in the distance. By approaching the final goal, the protagonist will discover old ruins, deal with strange organisms, and face different and even hostile weather conditions. The gameplay is based on environmental puzzles that must be solved in order to continue the exploration for an average game length of 2 hr. Furthermore, a cooperative mode is present and allows players to join forces and go forward together. The in-game camera mainly focuses on the avatar’s shoulders with few exceptions (brief cutscenes). According to specialized press (e.g., Arendt, 2012; Douglas, 2012; MacDonald, 2012), artistic features (design, music, and graphic) and overall atmosphere were highlighted because of their originality and fascination, whereas a short duration and an unbalanced pace were the most frequent critiques.

Journey seemed an ideal laboratory test to attempt an analysis based on symmetry and dissymmetry: Its layout is supported by symmetries of lines, colors, and shapes; contrariwise, certain features (e.g., the absence of combat, the frugality of the interface) astonish the player. However, both the concepts require an in-depth examination to stage a proper exploration of Journey and address their potential novelty and limitations in game analysis.

Symmetry and Dissymmetry

La Nécessité d’esprit (1933–1935/1981; original edition: 1933–1935), La mante religieuse. De la biologie à la psychanalyse (1934) and Mimicry and legendary psychasthenia (1935/1984; original edition: 1935) represent a turning point in Caillois’s path. Particularly in the latter essay, he began to develop a concept that would characterize his future works, that is, symmetry. The symmetric behavior par excellence is the mimicry—that is, “an incantation fixed at its culminating point” (p. 27). With this term, the reference is to the replication of a contextual element acted by a subject toward its own environment; examples are the actor who becomes someone else on the stage or the animal that reproduces traits of its surrounding when hiding from predators. According to Caillois (1935), human and natural beings are both characterized by this desire to simulate the space around them. Specifically, he focuses on different species of insects that have mimetic attitudes as an indicative proof. This type of strategy is not motivated by a survival advantage nor chance (p. 22); conversely, it is the consequence of a temptation triggered by the space per se (p. 28), which mesmerizes the subject with a promise of a reconciling harmony. Such a fascination is disruptive and depersonalizing: by merging with the outside, the insect loses its distinction and peculiarities. Identity loses its boundaries and a unifying tendency progressively prevails; “the living creature (…) is dispossessed of its privilege and literally no longer knows where to place itself” (p. 28). Therefore, according to Caillois, the consequent psychasthenia becomes a disturbance between subjectivity and spatial coordinates. To summarize, a catharsis seems to occur but without the final and recursive awareness that is usually engendered; on the contrary, “life takes a step backwards” (p. 30), the boundaries of the self dissolve, and the subject does not know what to do with itself. Caillois finds references to this “instinct of renunciation” (p. 32) in natural sciences (often oriented toward a holistic space) as well as in arts and literature (from Gustave Flaubert to Salvador Dali). Deepening his later works (e.g., Caillois, 1976, p. 210), mimicry can be interpreted as a movement toward symmetry, which follows the ideals of measure, proportion, and synergy between parts and wholes by aiming to an ideal match that discards anomalies.

After almost 40 years, in La dissymetrie (1973) and Cohérences aventureuses (1976), Caillois clearly advances a principle able to counterbalance such a universal standardization, that is, dissymmetry. Beyond the mere asymmetry, which is a movement toward a return of a standard—that is, a restoring step toward a new order—dissymmetry depicts the situation just after the break of a symmetry (i.e., a “rupture” that triggers a subversive process able to revolutionize routines; p. 206). Although symmetry promotes a condition of equilibrium, dissymmetry fosters richness, flexibility, and variety (p. 220). Such an overturning leap constitutes a fundamental force for the French thinker because it provides the essential antidote to the static condition of symmetry, which is associated with the second principle of the thermodynamics (pp. 267–268). Without the inverse impulse of dissymmetry, everything would be ruled by a widespread un-distinction. According to Caillois, dissymmetry becomes the explanation of Darwin’s law of evolution; whereas symmetry promotes inertia, dissymmetry triggers a spark of newness and room for improvement and growth (pp. 246–247). Coherently, Caillois argues that the most evolved forms of life are losing symmetric structures and embracing asymmetrical ones; for instance, humankind’s adaptive success can be explained with its peculiar preference to one specific side (usually the right; pp. 226–230). Quoting the scientist Louis Pasteur, Caillois claims that dissymmetry begins with life and represents the secret of the passage from inanimate to animate (pp. 242–243); it is not just a vague innovation, but rather a universal principle that affects every single entity (pp. 250–251).

In between these extremes, the alternation of redundancy and irregularity is persistent in Caillois’s production. In Man and the Sacred (1938/1959; original edition: 1939), he describes human taboos as instruments for preventing an anonymizing and annulling force and, at the same time, setting a reactionary order (pp. 38–41, 50–63). In turn, the sacred appears as an alternative environment, which is able to create a resistant space against the normalizing rules of the profane. In addition, the power is a further factor of destabilization (pp. 87–89) even when social hierarchies seem well established (pp. 106–107). Similarly, war and festivals “are periods of intense emotion: intermittent feverish crises disrupting the dull and peaceful monotony of everyday life (…) [they] stand alike as the sole remedies for inevitable decay” (Caillois, 2003a, pp. 289–290). According to Caillois, in these dissymmetrical frames, “nature and mankind both emerge renewed” (p. 290). Finally, games (Caillois, 1958) evoke a disjunctive order that is a defense against the standardization of nonludic settings. Among the different types of play, it can be argued that “ilinx”—that is, the vertigo fostered by activities like spinning and doing acrobatics—is particularly affected by this dynamic of irregularity. Caillois described it as a falling movement associated with disorder and absence of control, which means a breech in the subject’s expectations. Conversely, “mimicry” concerns a play in which a character is imitated by applying a symmetric operation to its traits (e.g., theater, role-playing). Comparable suggestions can be found in other works such as Le Mythe et l’Homme (Caillois, 1938; i.e., the difference between shamanism, which is a conflictual attitude, and manism, which relies on a depersonalization) and L’Écriture des Pierres (Caillois, 1970), in which stones are depicted as a fusion of order and vertigo.

To conclude, the cycle symmetry–dissymmetry–asymmetry–new symmetry triggers an ongoing and increasing entropy toward richer and more articulated standards and restores dispersed energies in new integrated ways (Caillois, 1976, p. 268). Caillois extends this consideration to both human and natural worlds according to his diagonal perspective, which is at the core of his vision (Caillois, 2003b) and is motivated by the fact that:

Each science explores a specific segment, that is, examines a set of phenomena, data, individuals, or reactions displaying similar of parallel properties. But (…) the limits that determine these often are still deceptive (…) the time has come to invoke “motives” that are just as pressing on a universal scale. (pp. 344–346)

The article aims to advance these concepts in the analysis of digital entertainment. Such a leap from the natural world to the human one is legitimated by the diagonal approach depicted above; in the majority of his works (e.g., Caillois, 1976, 1935/1984), Caillois addressed culture and art (e.g., drawing, music) as subjects of analysis. Following the abovementioned diagonal gaze, digital entertainment would be moved by references that are constantly reformulated. Although this position sounds provoking, the consequent perspective might achieve unforeseen outcomes (Frank, 2003, p. 49), with a new attention to the fascination of standardization and unpredictability. For example, ludic symmetries (e.g., gaming aesthetics and rules that replicate themselves) can trigger a depersonalizing immersion and then enrich previous categorizations of engagement (e.g., Ermi & Mäyrä, 2011; Yee, 2006), while dissymmetry may explain vertigo effects in gaming practices further. As anticipated, Journey may especially support this interpretation, which needs a multidisciplinary integration to be explored from a comprehensive perspective. Indeed, games are not published in a vacuum but rather in a market characterized by standards and audiences’ expectations (Consalvo, 2007, p. 176). Hence, the Derridean concept of deconstruction and the circuit of culture suggested by the British Centre for Contemporary Cultural Studies (CCCS) are adopted as analytic and heuristic tools because of their coherence with Caillois’s thinking: The former embraces a dismantling attitude toward cultural meanings following an antipositivist orientation, while the latter operationalizes this perspective with an inclusive (and then diagonal) lens.

Deconstructing and Framing the Context

As illustrated above, symmetry and dissymmetry are relational terms. Both mirroring features and revolutionary anomalies rely on a reference—that is, the standard that is confirmed or broken. Therefore, a fundamental parameter for applying these concepts becomes the comparative one, which is summarized by the logic “identity through opposition” (Appadurai, 1996; Hall, 1997); accordingly, a cultural object is defined through its opposite. The concept of “différance” suggested by the French philosopher Jacques Derrida is an exemplar concerning this point: It depicts a “particular constitutive relation of negativity in which a subordinate term (…) is a necessary and internal force of destabilization existing within the identity of the dominant term” (in Hall, 1996, p. 90). A related notion is “trace”—that is, in a term, the reference to what is different, absent, and even opposite (e.g., the black that reminds the white; Derrida, 1967, 1967/1997); a cultural meaning is never a closed entity but rather a crossroad of dynamic references that always remind of something else. Such a recursive play of mentions is a solution to the logocentrism that Derrida criticizes in the occidental thinking (e.g., philosophy, science), which is moved by the need of well-defined parameters whose objectivity is actually illusory. Therefore, a deconstruction is called into action to shed light on artificial connections for the explicit purpose to dismantle and reconstruct them by following a critical attitude rather than a methodical protocol of inquiry (Derrida, 1967, pp. 65–75). Consequentially, a deconstructive analysis requires a gaze that is constantly in movement, which operates within the targeted object by undermining stereotypes and assumptions. By strengthening the subjective dimension of an investigation, it reveals the hidden biases of the most legitimated interpretations (Derrida, 1967/1997; Wolfreys, 1998).

Cultural studies were significantly influenced by such a critical perspective (Hall, 1996, p. 2), as proved by the circuit of culture developed by members of the CCCS, which can be interpreted as a heuristic framework aimed to assist cultural analyses (du Gay, 1997, p. 10). Consequentially, their proposal outlines five moments/processes through which the meaning of a cultural object is generated, shared, and debated: representation—that is, common images about the cultural object; identity—that is, how the cultural object influences the self-perception of the audiences involved; consumption—that is, the manner in which the cultural object is consumed and interpreted; production—that is, actors, institutions, and working routines that generate the cultural object; and regulation—that is, conditions and standards that rule the cultural object. According to the lesson of Derrida, their mutual relations are bi-directional and recursive rather than fixed and causal. Although social attributions seem stable, they are culturally constructed and maintained through hegemony and control. Therefore, contrast and contingency become important analytic focuses (du Gay et al., 1997, p. 12; Slack & Wise, 2007, p. 146) because they are core criteria of dynamism and meaning. Pursuing this line, the game industry is full of precarious bonds; as claimed by Adams and Dormans (2012), “the relationship between the original system [what a game tries to replicate] and the simulation’s mechanics [the game processes] is not causal but arbitrary and based on convention” (p. 290; see also Consalvo, 2007).

In this article, this combined perspective is applied to Journey with an emphasis on the nodes of consumption and representation and a secondary reference to production. The reasons of this integration are mainly two: staging an assessment of the inquiry itself to avoid ontological and self-satisfying outcomes and improving the analysis of gaming symmetry and dissymmetry by considering them complex, relative, and contextual features. Both the motivations are compatible with Caillois’s approach: the French writer refused cause–effect explanations and called positivist visions into question for his diagonal and antianthropocentric purposes.

Representing the Agency

Journey starts without information or indications about the protagonist and its mission; this opening can be considered singular in the current game industry, especially for an adventure game. Although previous examples can be found—for example, Half Life (Valve, 1998), Myst (Cyan Inc., 1993)—the game emphasizes such a lack of references by avoiding tutorials, introductions, and further explanations; the avatar is a “stranger” whose goal is to reach a mountain, and no other documentation is given. In addition, the robed outfit masks the whole character and makes it an empty dress for the player; although this condition is quite diffused (e.g., Master Chief in Halo and Link in Zelda), in Journey the coverture is total and does not reproduce classic gaming topoi (e.g., the hero, the warrior, the marine). Such an initial feeling of disorientation is maintained until the ending sequence. In the void of parameters and guidelines, the path starts and almost immediately three main plastic “isotopies”—that is, redundancies in terms of colors, forms, and lines (Floch, 1995)—between virtual surroundings and avatar are introduced, triggering a mirroring effect.

First, colors are the most important factor of symmetry ranging from yellow to amber and orange tones during the former part (the exploration of the desert) and then from white to gray in the latter (the ascension of the mountain). Sand, snow, and sunlight dominate the game environment, respectively, as totalizing motives that affect the protagonist too, whose shade varies from orange to white. Indeed, the stranger is literally embodied in such a univocal flow to the extent that it becomes something connected to the surrounding and often seems to lose itself. Such a chromatic bond is especially strengthened while climbing the mountain, during which the snow drowns out the avatar and the player must keep proceeding against a rising uniformity that consumes details and shapes. In addition, sometimes this delocation becomes a source of power: in the “temple” sequence (in the middle of the game), the avatar is covered by a fog that increases its jumping ability; the bright light that characterizes the final part has the same effect. The appeal of a totalizing color as a devouring space follows: “it touches the individual directly, envelops him, penetrates him, and even passes through him” (Caillois, 1935/1984, p. 30).

Second, in-game lines follow a vertical and curve trajectory. The boundaries that frame avatar, virtual entities (e.g., the creatures that helps the player in reaching higher points), and even ruins (e.g., the monumental pillars in the desert) replicate the ascension movement suggested by the mountain and other virtual environments (e.g., clefts, temple naves). The windy scarf that characterizes the protagonist emphasizes this trend with its centrality on the screen; in the last part, the dominance of the snow steals it from the avatar and finalizes a chromatic indistinctness.

Third and consequentially, forms tend to replicate themselves: The reaching toward the sky triangle sketched by the final destination is reiterated in the avatar’s main shape, environments (e.g., dunes, canyons’ crevices) and other game elements (e.g., forsaken buildings, stones) spread across the game landing, enhancing the vertical tension: protagonist, destination, and nonplayer characters appear as the same entity or, at least, different sizes of a unique original source. Therefore, a “reciprocal topography” (Caillois, 1935/1984, p. 18) of figures, lines, and chromatic features occurs and the “dangerous luxury” caused by the psychasthenia (p. 25) involves the player with a redundant game of mirrors; as a result, a “depersonalization by assimilation to space” (p. 30) is triggered and a symmetrical mimicry is staged.

Paradoxically, such a mesmerizing engagement is supported by two dissymmetry-oriented features, which trigger an initial vertigo by removing standardized parameters of reference in terms of direction and interpretation. Addressing the former, the transparency of the interface avoids intrusive elements that could ruin the symmetric tie between player and game environment (e.g., a total score that reminds him or her of being a user) by harnessing the protagonist’s scarf length as a unique life/power indicator. Even the main hub of the game—that is, a building from which it is possible to reach the sections already finished and see the ascent glyphs (collectable items hidden in the game scenario) found—does not have clear indicators nor guidelines despite its functionality. Indeed, intermediation factors could destroy the depersonalization effect because they add further frames of references and break the immersion.

Regarding the latter, it could be argued that the scarcity of figurative elements—that is, aesthetic elements that can be associated with well-established roles or figures (Floch, 1995)—reinforces this confusion; the setting is so unique, frugal and desolate that finding external references is challenging. In light of that, plastic isotopies become in charge and cultural layers (that figurative features can trigger according to stereotypes and shared schemata) are marginal. At most, the collectable glyphs (similar to the cuneiform writing) and the remnants in Journey’s landscape evoke the idea of an ancient civilization in its last days: a past grandiosity is devoured and swallowed by sand, snow, and nature. Although the background is not defined enough to advance further interpretations, this movement toward a natural harmony through destruction ideally fits into Caillois’s thinking. According to Salen and Zimmerman (2003), “any game that establishes a strong presence in culture immediately engages with innumerable cultural structures” (p. 509); as argued by designers like Koster (2010) and Adams and Dormans (2012), video games replicate their core culture for staging a better intelligibility by exploiting conventions and standards. Conversely, the plastic elegance of Journey overturns this consuetude. Delocation and depersonalization are empowered through the deficiency of references and insights from other products or media, which could potentially set an alternative center and weaken the mimicry by reminding the player of being an active part within the interaction. Journey tries to go beyond these filters by proposing something more visceral than an immersion based on challenge, fantasy, or senses (e.g., Ermi & Mäyrä, 2011): the appeal of a symmetric loop in being intertwined with (virtual) surroundings. The sole theme of the soundtrack enhances this merging by playing a “big cello concerto where (…) [the player is] the soloist and all the rest of the instruments represent the world” (the game composer Austin Wintory in Alex, 2012); coherently, Caillois considered music a possible criterion of symmetry and dissymmetry (1976, p. 279).

At the beginning, the player is lost: she or he does not find the most common guidelines in the medium, and her or his cultural background struggles with the lack of clues and stereotypes. Consequentially, in this disorienting vertigo, a mimicry with the game setting is introduced and increasingly strengthened; the dissymmetry fostered by the figurative and intermediation absences is functional to the finalization of a mirroring immersion.

Activating the Representation

The immediacy outlined above is enhanced by the gameplay, which is structured by only two main actions: to soar/levitate (according to how long the scarf is) and to yell to other entities in game. Collecting ribbons will increase the scope of jumps while woven creatures will help in following the right path. In turn, strip enemies will hunt the player and try to reduce the scarf and then his or her agency. However, she or he is not allowed to fight back and can only hide or escape from these menaces. In other words, the avatar is not able to impose itself nor emerge as a willing character in agential terms; conversely, it is forced to merge with the game landscape and surrender to environmental features. Consequently, jumping becomes the fundamental mechanic that characterizes the game experience; even the cloth tissues are gathered with a simple touch without implying further efforts when they are fitted in the gaming environment (e.g., as in the “bridge” section, in which the player has to find them to repair a broken bridge). In light of the absence of a score, the effectiveness of leaps is the measure of the ludic performance per se: the higher the protagonist gets, the better the player is doing. Jumping has this main function, which supports an exploration that is increasingly depersonalizing without breaking sessions; even the secondary tasks (e.g., the search of hidden glyphs) are intuitive and not particularly challenging.

Hence, the ascension theme described in the previous section also characterizes the gameplay, which is based on a limited range of action and intuitive mechanics that can be labeled as “continuous.” With this category, Adams and Dormans (2012) refer to rules that “tend to simulate physics (including timing and rhythm) with precise mechanics that create a smooth, continuous flow of play” (p. 9). The counter category is the “discrete mechanic”, which is “represented with integer (whole-number) values” and then concerns “a finite set that does not allow any gradual transitions” (pp. 9–11). The former type is entailed by curvy lines (as the ones in Journey) and enhances fluidity and immediacy, whereas the second supports strategic thinking and deframes the game scenario. Intuitively, Journey relies on a constant fluency without interruptions; it presents itself as a coherent setting that players have to explore rather than rule: the avatar is involved within the environment, as opposed to dominating the environment. The attraction exercised by the space takes the priority as the main theme of the game. This orientation is kept even in the multiplayer mode, in which players can cooperate online to succeed. Another human presence might damage the gaming symmetry with unexpected and from outside inputs; in order to prevent the risk, the game makes this relation silent without changing mechanics. Although it is possible to arrive to the final sequence with a peer (and this result is rewarded by a specific game trophy), the players can interact with each other only within the symmetrical structure and simple gameplay that characterize Journey and a music peal that evokes the main theme.

Such a limited interactivity is disorienting at first glance. According to several designers (Koster, 2010; Sylvester, 2013), primordial pulses such as accumulation, training to fight, and the law of the strongest are still fundamental in ludic experiences. Actually, the relation between digital entertainment and war is a long-term one (Crogan, 2011): early video games were structured as simulations for testing strategies and enemies’ moves, and the action-adventure genre usually involves conflict and performance (e.g., Tomb Raider, Darksiders, Uncharted sagas). Journey operates in a different way; its assertive and passive approach tips over common prospects toward the (apparent) game typology to which it belongs. The protagonist has neither weapons nor concrete scores, and only the scarf indicates a progression. The virtual environment becomes part of the avatar instead of being a menace, while the related involvement follows a virtual and desubjectifying mimicry that struggles with the most common expectations. Indeed, undertaking the Journey’s path means being involved with a progressive sequence of agential vertigos. As anticipated, the player is not in charge of the interaction. The absence of control/assessing features (e.g., indicators, statistics about the enemies defeated, rankings) sabotages every effort to rationalize the game. Often the simple act of going forward is the only thing to do, and the assuring gaming clichés lose their validity. Coherently, when the stranger encounters its first opponents (a sort of stone creatures), it is not able to fight back and can only avoid them; the jump remains the core activity allowed, and there is not an upgrade in order to face the new menace. The impossibility to react is a disconcerting one; even in stealth games it is possible to stage a feedback—that is, a manifestation of willing by the player per se. Moreover, the absence of an empowerment of the character (e.g., a power-up, new abilities) is disturbing as well. This dissymmetric vertigo, which relies on destabilizing the agential scripts of the medium, is taken to the extreme when even the scarf, which is the only criterion of agency and intermediation, flies away in the end. The stranger can only advance overwhelmed by the symmetries of the gaming environment, and finally reach the light of the summit. The agency is dismantled in favor of the depersonalizing mirroring effect. As argued by Journey’s Director Jenova Chen, the main goal was to build an experience “where people felt they are connected with each other (…). So in order to [do that] (…), we have to remove their power, and remove their tasks” (in Smith, 2012).

Potential in Game Analysis

According to game traits and even some developers’ statements, the concepts of symmetry and dissymmetry seem to fit into the experience triggered by Journey: A symmetric and depersonalizing flow is engendered with dissymmetric elements that reject the assuring standards of the medium. A hypnotic rapture characterizes the game and creates a perfect match of all its parts by removing some of the most fundamental gaming features that comfort the player; as such, it challenges the common expectations about video games with the paradoxical result that a dissymmetry supports a symmetrical mimicry. Indeed, the game’s core theme—that is, what the game is about (Schell, 2008, pp. 49–53)—disowns the current traits of digital game, which still strongly depend on control, achievement, and challenge (e.g., Koster, 2010; Sylvester, 2013). In other words, Journey becomes a deconstructive tool that shows how the patterns of the sector are relative and dynamic. It could be argued that the product of Thatgamecompany addresses the whole medium as its own trace: by discarding the most common standards of intermediation (e.g., supporting interface, focused tutorials) and gameplay (e.g., conflict, score, a multiplayer in which players communicate), it makes the boundaries of video game per se collapse. However, its intent is not just a deconstructive one; its symmetrical appeal makes it engaging and proves that other gameplays are possible: both gameplay and aesthetics cowork in eliminating every distraction and intermediation by staging coherent and depersonalizing symmetry. Coherently, the game was acclaimed by both critics and gamers; the awards won and the enthusiastic reviews highlighted its disorienting uniqueness in the current digital entertainment. Therefore, a dissymmetric stimulus—a refreshing “entropie inverse” (Caillois, 1976, p. 268) that overturns previsions and standards—seemed to take place toward the sector and its fragmented and quantified gameplays (e.g., achievements, season passes, constant updates, live streaming). From a production perspective, a correlation can be sketched with Journey’s unconventional development: independent prerogatives, which often try to turn over clichés (see Bogost, 2011), were strengthened with the capabilities guaranteed by a major company.

This perspective can be easily adopted and expanded in game analysis: Journey concerns only a specific concretization of symmetry and dissymmetry, which can be widely associated with several ludic trends. Regarding the former, the hypnotic layouts of games such as Rez (Q Entertainment, 2001) and Hotline Miami (Dennaton Games, 2012) significantly rely on specular aesthetical elements; mobile and social games often provide repetitive gameplays triggering an interactive loop; and the reiteration of mechanics and representations (e.g., covering system, evil versus good characters) in the sector is a matter of fact as proven by the frequent clones, sequels, and remakes (e.g., Final Fantasy, Doom, and X-Com series). However, these clichés may be overturned by dissymmetrical instances that disorient players’ certainties. For example, the first Half Life revolutionized the First Person Shooter genre with its environmental narration; the moral dilemmas (see Sicart, 2013) offered by products like Shadow of the Colossus (Team Ico, 2005) and This War of Mine (11 Bit Studios, 2014) continue to clash with industry standards. In addition, user generated content (e.g., mods and total conversions) may disclose emergent gameplays (Juul, 2005) and opportunities (e.g., the map DotA that gave rise to the Multiplayer Online Battle Arena genre). These phenomena are not just a mere difference from expectations; rather, they disown widespread habits with their alternative patterns, thereby fostering an unusual appeal. By focusing on symmetry and dissymmetry in game features and contexts, such processes might be understood further even with other disciplinary and methodological integrations (e.g., Ability Studies, empirical inquiries) and lenses (e.g., random generated content, players’ familiarities versus cutting-edge innovations).

Narrowing the Analytic Scope

To summarize and addressing the first research question, the textual analysis presented seems to justify the use of the two concepts as a deconstructive instrument to shed light on dynamics and patterns in Journey; related mimicry (a deindividualizing representation) and vertigo (a disarming interaction) recursively work for involving and astonishing the player.

Nevertheless, two vulnerabilities characterize the study. The first is that, despite the quotes reported above, it is not possible to claim that the game was intentionally developed with the principles of symmetry and dissymmetry in mind. Jenova Chen stated that Thatgamecompany’s approach is to create “games like a Japanese garden, where the design is perfect when you cannot remove anything else” (in Smith, 2012). In addition, the budget was not comparable with mainstream productions and the development was troubled and longer than expected (North, 2013). Thus, the frugality of the experience was both planned and sustainable for the available resources. Second and more important, this understanding of Journey under the Caillois’s light remains an interpretation. The game can be read as a path from life to death, from conflict to peace, from complexity to harmony; in the final sequence, the avatar disappears and merges with the environment. Although this statement sounds pertinent, it is a possible reading, and leads to the second research question and the self-critical orientation of the study.

Indeed, the adoption of concepts such as symmetry and dissymmetry relies on taking a stand, which is based on the antipositivist thinking of the French writer. As reported above, Derrida takes a step forward and highlights the subjective dimension of every intellectual investigation stressing the need for an ongoing deconstruction. Therefore, Journey is an ideal example of how a textual analysis based on Caillois can be effective but, at the same time, has to relativize its own cornerstones, which are indicative rather than a limit. In other words, the study described in this essay tries to apply some of his (most important) suggestions to a video game, and apparently succeeds. However, such an artificial association is not as neutral as it appears at first glance, but depends on the researcher’s point of view, which is always subjective.

This is especially proven by the passage from symmetry and dissymmetry, which were usually described with natural, social, and art examples by Caillois, to the targeted medium. Although such a leap provides an alternative lens on Journey and the author himself, its relativity should not be overlooked. Indeed, the French writer was against every systematic framework that crystalized the analysis and the reasoning, above all his own: Caillois’s production was indeed heterogeneous and even contradictory at times (e.g., his ambivalent position about Darwin’s law of evolution). His intent was to constantly move forward (Frank, 2003) and dispose of knowledge hierarchies and centers by keeping a dynamic notion of “secret”, which is a truth that researchers cannot reach although they constantly strive for it (see also Caillois, 1970, pp. 81–85).

Such a self-critique is supported by several counter-examples that relativize the interpretation outlined in these pages. For example, the basic act of jumping in Journey can be interpreted as a reference to the fundamentals of the platform genre, which is a familiar one for its long tradition in the game industry (a nostalgic pattern rather than a movement toward an ideal mimicry). Moreover, a nonintrusive interface is a design choice suggested by several practitioners in order to improve the immersion (e.g., Schell, 2008; Sylvester, 2013). In addition, the criteria of symmetry/dissymmetry applied are often based on a comparison with the gaming trends; it is a matter of absence/presence that belongs to a similar versus different play (e.g., combat versus no combat). However, according to Caillois, dissymmetry should be something that is impossible to predict, a new qualitative standard instead of a mere quantitative difference. Finally, the distinctions between plastic and figurative and between representation and agency are actually an interpretation, although they are widely adopted in Semiotics (the former) and Game Studies (the latter). For instance, as observed by Jin (2015) the desolate settings of Journey can acquire a connoted meaning by evoking associations with Buddhist values; otherwise, genre boundaries are further contextual combinations of representative and agential features that may be reformulated (see Apperley, 2006).

Several studies that refer to Caillois fall into this trap: by adopting his concepts as object parameters, they misrepresent his lens; the analysis of Journey described in these pages partially makes the same mistake but in the end works as a counter-example. It is not a coincidence that Derrida (1967/1997) never completely defined terms such as trace and deconstruction in order to prevent uncritical readings of his work. Similarly but with a less systematic attitude, Caillois moved from one interpretation to another; his lesson is more a matter of critical approach than about the use of specific concepts (Frank, 2003; Hollier, 1988). Such a constant dynamism is suggested by his diagonal perspective but also by symmetry and dissymmetry themselves, which are constantly in-progress processes. Indeed, the engaging depersonalization of Journey hit the market 4 years ago, and its peculiarity has inspired several asymmetrical creations—that is, products that aim to restore a new symmetry by reelaborating dissymmetrical inputs—like Ori and the Blind Forest (Nordic Games, 2015) and Firewatch (Campo Santo, 2016).

Regardless, the main issue about the exploitation of the French writer is that only some of his works are addressed without considering the main picture, especially the related diagonal and decentered scope. This distorted lens engenders two main misuses of Caillois. Particularly in Game Studies, his suggestions are applied without a pertinent critical assessment (Frasca, 2003; Giuliano, 1997), which is also required because of Caillois’s subjective and nonupdated focuses (see Henricks, 2011). It can be argued that this article fits into such category, which relies on an over-interpretation in which a selected concept (in this case, symmetry and dissymmetry) is projected on a targeted case study (Journey; for an alike observation, see Eskelinen, 2001).

In turn, several criticisms are inaccurate because they miss the core guidelines that structure Caillois’s thinking. Among them, especially his pessimism about the role of human instincts (Mukherjee, 2010; Rodriguez, 2006) and the lack of attention to subjectivity in ludic practices (Conway & Innocent, 2016) are contestable; dissymmetry (often associated with instinct) may represent a proactive energy, and the human activity is always seen as a personal and imperfect effort (Caillois, 2003c, p. 357). Such a situation is similar to what happened in the adoption of Jacques Lacan’s theories in psychology: They were completely accepted or, conversely, totally rejected without significant reformulations (Billig, 2006).

Reexpanding the Scope

Nevertheless, the suggestion about a crisis of the sociocultural frames of video game entailed by Journey might go beyond such an impasse. Regarding this point, a sparkle of newness seems to take place and inspires unexpected directions. The game struggles with digital entertainment’s standards, whose absence is a glaring trace, to the extent that it seems a broken game or not a game at all; Journey loses part of the medium’s qualifying features and aims to be something else. However, it was considered the best game of 2012 by several journalists and practitioners. Therefore, do the boundaries (e.g., of digital games per se and related genres) followed by the sector still make sense? In essence, what is a video game?

According to Caillois’s lesson, the answers to these questions are relative; coherently, the dissymmetric deficiencies of Journey seem to make it an antigame. The vacuum of references disorients the player by rejecting the intermediation; a media vertigo, which is based on an absence of (well established) controlling and intermediating elements, is triggered, and suggests a dissymmetry for the whole sector. While virtual reality usually intends to enable a new center—that is, the user being in charge—Journey erodes this centrality suggesting that several gaming standards are not written in stone. The consequent struggle with the normal criteria of assessment is evident in the specialized reviews quoted above (e.g., Arendt, 2012; Douglas, 2012), which show an emotional style rather than an analytic one. Paradoxically, such a movement harnesses symmetric patterns for supporting and making engaging its thesis.

In conclusion, the inquiry becomes a double-edged sword: although the use of symmetry and dissymmetry can succeed in the analysis of Journey, it is always possible to (or, actually, the researcher should) criticize the consequent outcome because of the subjective orientation of the theoretical premises (from Caillois to Derrida). Therefore, this study intends to be both a good example and a lacking one. The spring gaze adopted has moved toward an exploration of symmetry and dissymmetry in a gaming environment and outlined insights for further analyses. Then, it turned back to avoid easy and limiting results, which are not consistent with Caillois’s vision. Coherently, the desired outcome is to have provided stimuli to researchers and scholars instead of static findings that may undermine the analytic awareness (Caillois, 2003c, p. 357). Indeed, the best exploitation of the French writer’s work is to apply his suggestions until they become too satisfying, and then change references and look for new challenges. Perhaps this operation might mean a narrowing of Caillois’s influence in the short term, but it will likely strengthen the coherence with his core perspective on the long one.