One hundred and fifty

The human brain is the most complex structure we know of, but does it follow that human social networks are the most complex thing in the (known) universe? See what you think after this fascinating online seminar with Professor Robin Dunbar (he of Dunbar's Number) and Professor Lucy Bowes, presented by Sir David Clary.

It's a topical subject given the current reluctance to make physical contact with others. How does that affect our friendships? Does distance make the heart grow fonder? Among the ways we bond with others, Profs Dunbar and Bowes discuss grooming, singing (one hour's worth makes lifelong friends, apparently), feasting, dancing, laughter and emotional storytelling. The last of those is exactly what we're experiencing when we play an RPG, which could account for how important those Discord and Zoom game sessions have been over the last few months.

Oh, and if you hang around till the end you'll see why it's relevant to this blog. No peeking!

Hey, monster, leave that kid alone!

If you live in the United Kingdom, you might want to pick up The Observer newspaper today as it has a review of my interactive Frankenstein novel. To be honest, the reviewer loathed it, but when it comes to being talked about, I'm with my fellow Magdalen alumnus Oscar Wilde: there's only one thing worse...

The review does make a specific complaint about not being able to affect the story. That's actually a misconception on the reviewer's part, so I'd better set the record straight. The scene she mentions is when the monster encounters Victor Frankenstein's little brother, William. In the original novel, he strangles the boy. In my version, that outcome is not at all inevitable. However, it isn't based on an old-style gamebook choice: "Strangle the boy Y/N?" Rather, all of your choices affect the monster's alienation, as well as Victor's empathy towards other people, and his trust in your counsel. And those hidden factors influence where the story goes. That means that certain decisions may seem unavoidable when you reach them, but in fact you have been shaping your destiny all along.

This is fundamental to the style of interactivity in Frankenstein, because choices have long-term consequences. Who, after all, makes an arbitrary spur-of-the-moment decision to kill in cold blood? "Would you like to strangle the boy? And do you want fries with that?" Certainly the monster is not that kind of dispassionate Ripley-style murderer. It is his entire history that builds to that moment, and when it happens (if he does kill the boy, that is) it should be with a feeling of, "Oh God, what have I done?"

I am looking forward to people talking about their individual experience with Frankenstein (available here). "The monster murders people because Victor tried to destroy him," one will say. "Nonsense," says another, "Victor didn't try to destroy him; he tried to save him." "But the monster gets the blame for murders he doesn't commit," another will say. It's that Rashomon what-really-happened effect that Orwell talks about in his essay on historical truth. Thus, Frankenstein is built on a form of interactivity that allows outcomes to be surprising and yet inevitable - and that is what we should ask of all good stories.