The Fountain of Wisdom: How ‘Thomas Was Alone’ Represents Disability in Video Games
Video games still largely marginalize the identities of people with disabilities, leaving the conversation about disability and ludonarrative rather silent. This deep-seated sociocultural callousness toward disability has been demonstrated to be uprooted by exposure to disabled people, and video games – as an interactive storytelling medium – are a particularly effective psychological intervention against such ableist prejudice. Thomas Was Alone serves as a metaphorical case study in the yet-to-be-had conversation about what role video games will play for disability studies in the 21st century.
Thomas Was Alone tells the story of a community of disabled characters that team up – not altogether unlike the disability rights movement towards legislative reform in the 20th century – to reform the world designed for bodies other than their own. The characters aim to rid the world of obstacles that hinder their mobilities, so that the next generations will be able to participate more fully in the greater meanings of life. Examining Thomas Was Alone’s characters through the lens of disability studies, and observing how their presence in an interactive narrative creates positive social impacts, might yield a new paradigm for reducing the pernicious effects of ableism in contemporary pop culture.
Thomas Was Alone grounds itself as both a literary text and object of disability studies through the work of Tobin Siebers, who, in his book Disability Aesthetics, argues on behalf of disabled and deformed subjects, as they have historically been (mis)represented in art and image. Siebers observes that children no longer gather their impressionistic cultural understandings from books, but rather from mediums like film and video games.
Ludonarrative in Academia
Siebers, a professor of literature himself, critiques English departments in academia for refusing to expand the scope of their studies and research into these new domains from which children are receiving this cultural information. He writes of professors who have been “spun by the so-called linguistic turn,” in which pedagogical approaches have emphasized close reading, binary oppositions as structures of language, have “traded the importance of presence for the power of écriture,” and offered systematic “readings” of paintings, films, cultural objects, and human bodies. This trend within the scholarly community has not missed their opportunity, however, according to Siebers, especially where the underexplored territory of disability studies is concerned. For there is an opportunity for such scholars to establish “the prototype for applying the methods of literary reading to extraliterary phenomena” like interactive narratives and video games.
Siebers provides the framework by which Thomas Was Alone can be analyzed from a disability studies perspective, which reveals this ludic text to be important to the conversation about the role of literary studies in the 21st century. This framework begins with Siebers’ definition of aesthetics, which, he claims, “is the human activity most identifiable with the human because it defines the process by which human beings attempt to modify themselves, by which they imagine their feelings, forms, and futures in radically different ways, and by which they bestow upon these new feelings, forms, and futures real appearances in the world.”
Aesthetics, as a process, studies the effect that bodies produce in other bodies. Though Siebers begins this discussion of aesthetics in terms of the human, he quickly expands this definition when he argues that the “public aversion to disability may begin with individual human bodies, but it escalates rapidly to form a network of wider symbolism that includes nonhuman bodies.” Aesthetics thus suppresses its underlying corporeality, according to Siebers, but with difficulty, for “all bodies are not created equal when it comes to aesthetic response.” To theorize aesthetic differences in images or bodies, then, is to “participate in a form of discrimination” that our visual culture is so dependent upon for the establishment of hierarchies, for the development of what a given culture means by the term disability.
The aesthetics of Thomas Was Alone operate within Siebers’ conception of how bodies produce unequal reactions in other bodies, and how hierarchies develop based on social perception of ability. Thomas Was Alone begins with an introduction to the eponymous Thomas, a red rectangle who is, as the title suggests, alone. The story’s narrator describes Thomas’ only two abilities as a character: he is observant and good at falling. These two mediocre abilities lead him through the story to his first roadblock, which takes the form of a tall ledge that he can’t traverse. This ledge presents a conundrum for Thomas, who wonders, “What if there was some kind of inverted fall, some way to ‘jump’.”
And thus Thomas learns that he’s had a third ability all along: the ability to jump. This may sound like a trite moment of elementary achievement, but for a character like Thomas who has lived out his life without ever being able to jump, this new ability becomes a defining part of his identity. Identity is an important cornerstone in the discussion of disability theory and aesthetics. Siebers articulates the instability of disability as an identity, writing that “all people […] move in and out of disability identity, and people recognized as disabled in one context may not be thought disabled in another.” Even on his own, Thomas vacillates between two identities: pre and post jumping ability.
Based on his newly complicated relationship with the ability to jump, Thomas faces an identity crisis that cannot be resolved until he is no longer alone. On his own, Thomas laments that “the world was not to be trusted. It was unstable, and it seemed to Thomas that it could let him down at any moment.”
Thomas persists in moving through this unstable world, and quiets his inner anxieties by writing them off, rationalizing them as “paranoia.” This rationalization doesn’t palliate Thomas’ anxieties about his lack of diverse abilities, for, as he progresses, Thomas “could have sworn the world was becoming more complicated. It always seemed to be one step ahead of his skills.”
Eventually, Thomas adjusts to the unstable and complicated world around him, finding ways to work around the obstacles in his environment. But even an increased sense of ability and competence isn’t enough for Thomas; he wishes he had someone to share this lonely environment with. Fittingly, just around the bend, Thomas meets his first companion: Chris.
Thomas’ relationship with Chris reinforces Siebers’ point about the instability of the disabled identity, and how the deformity of bodies can never be viewed in isolation. In contrast to Thomas, a red rectangle of medium stature, Chris is a dwarf. Chris, an orange square, is roughly half Thomas’ height, and irascible to boot. Immediately upon meeting Thomas, Chris takes an “immediate and deep dislike to the skinny red rectangle,” wondering why Thomas was such a showboat with his ability to jump.
Chris can jump, too, but not to Thomas’ ability. This hierarchical difference in ability frustrates Chris, who “wasn’t the highest jumper, but [was someone who had] held his own.” Chris describes his own lesser ability as “graceful, at times,” but then immediately doubts this accolade to himself: “Well not actually graceful, not technically graceful, probably the wrong word, but, you know, FINE. And then there’s that skinny little runt [Thomas]. Leaping about like he owned the place.” Thomas’ presence, both in terms of his form and ability, are taken by Chris as a personal slight, as a sign of Thomas’ degenerate moral character. But this subjective take from Chris belies Thomas’ own view of himself, as discussed above.
Chris’ and Thomas’ mismatch between personal identity and the perception of other social bodies arises from the inarticulated parameters of bodily normativity. Sieber argues in alliance with the idea of normative inarticulation, for disability, deformity, and disqualification, when “viewed in isolation, based on individual appearance, has little meaning; its meaning emerges by association, placement in context, and aesthetic technique.”
Viewed in isolation, Thomas felt inadequate, like the world was difficult and unwelcoming to a quadrilateral body such as his. Viewed in isolation, Chris felt adequate, like he was getting along fine. Viewed together, as Siebers suggests, meaning emerges by association and context. Even the aesthetic difference between Chris and Thomas, regardless of their ability, creates a visual – and thus a social – hierarchy. The taller of the two quadrilaterals theoretically dominates the other, and this perceived domination is evidenced in Chris’ inner monologue.
The cast of Thomas Was Alone expands into a social collective of John, Claire, and Laura, who bring additional considerations of disability into the narrative. Thomas and Chris are joined next by John, a tall yellow rectangle who can jump high above both Thomas and Chris combined. If Chris is to be narratively diagnosed with dwarfism, then John is to be narrative diagnosed with pituitary gigantism. John’s form and ability prove useful to the story’s unfolding, but John enters the narrative with chronic narcissism. This narcissism causes John to show off his abilities to Thomas and Chris, who have to rely on John’s help to keep going. His physical stature translates into a patronizing relationship to Thomas and Chris, as John refers to them as “little dots” to whom he can offer his “sympathetic expression”: a well-practiced look that he has developed in the mirror.
By helping these two characters, who John perceives as disabled, it will be “good for his image,” an attitude that Thomas Was Alone makes clear to be wrong. John continues to “help” Thomas and Chris, who require assistance – from his perspective – with “coordination, balance and timing.” John concludes that these “little dots” were “there to extend John’s reach, to make his performance more impressive.” The characters with less abilities, in other words, are defined as much through their function as through their aesthetic representation.
Siebers argues that this layered definition of ability and aesthetic representation deserves critique, “especially with respect to how individuals are disqualified, that is, how they are found lacking, inept, incompetent, inferior, in need, incapable, degenerate, uneducated, weak, ugly, underdeveloped, diseased, immature, unskilled, frail, uncivilized, defective, and so on.” At this point in the narrative, the characters in Thomas Was Alone have only perceived disability as such in terms of what characters can’t do. This role of disability is flipped around one more with the introduction of Claire.
The introduction of Claire into Thomas Was Alone adheres to Siebers’ framework of disability studies, but quickly transcends its stable confines. Claire is the largest of the quadrilateral characters, a rotund square (if such a form can be imagined) who is depressed and suicidal. In terms of ability, Claire thought of herself as “rubbish at jumping,” and she moved too “slowly.”
Worse than her lack of abilities, Claire “felt a little like her continued existence was breaking some kind of natural order.” Her feeble presence in the world full of dangers and obstacles culminates when she prepares to drown. Yet, when she hits the water, she doesn’t drown, she floats. A miracle, to be sure, Claire thinks, having expected to die. This miracle leads Clair to conclude that this moment marks the beginning of her new life.
Life is worth living after all, for Claire, now that she has discovered her “superpower”: the ability to swim. Like the three aforementioned characters, Claire begins her character arc within Siebers’ framework of disability, deformity, and aesthetics. Unlike these other characters, Claire’s disability becomes a sort of narrative prosthesis; she becomes a “supercrip.”
Claire’s character arc begins with disability and deformity, but quickly evolves to encompass the role of a supercrip character. The term supercrip refers to the way literary theorists discuss disabled characters who, as Amanda Joyal writes about Mass Effect, “because of, or in spite of, their disability, are perceived as possessing extraordinary talent.” A supercrip character often functions largely by virtue of narrative prosthesis, a literary trope that treats disability as “a sign of empowerment and super-ability, rather than a reminder of [one’s] disability,” which allows a disabled person to “overcome” their disability.
Joyal defines the supercrip character in opposition to the normate body, a term which refers to a body that takes the subjective form of “the constructed identity of those who, by way of the bodily configurations and cultural capital they assume, can step into a position of authority and wield the power it grants them.” Thus, Claire’s role as a supercrip can be juxtaposed with John’s role as a normate. John’s abilities are socially constructed such that he can smugly assume cultural capital with respect to Thomas, Chris, and Claire. Claire’s abilities are not such that she can ever become in a position of authority and its conferred power, but they become the impetus for her character to develop of the remaining story. As Joyal warns, the supercrip won’t be granted “fully human status” by normates unless the disabled character proves their worth in social relationships.
Claire’s role as a supercrip comments on how, to the non-disabled, people with disabilities symbolize “imperfection, failure to control the body, and everyone’s vulnerability to weakness, pain and death.” In order to overcome these social perceptions, disabled people must use charm, intimidation, humor, or entertainment. People with disabilities who play into these roles that the non-disabled expect relieve the non-disabled of their own discomfort, which – for better or for worse – can lead to social acceptance and even utility. This role-playing conundrum with respect to the disabled and non-disabled characters in Thomas Was Alone underscores Siebers’ earlier point that popular culture matters. For, in popular culture, as Joyal writes, “the success story of prosthesis [and the supercrip] is in fact determined by hiding the truth.” By pursuing normalcy, by trying to live up to the standards and expectations of social normates, disabled people “may edge into the self-betrayal associated with ‘passing’.” Claire thus has to become more able-bodied from John’s point of view in order to become a kind of heroic figure.
The final character of Thomas Was Alone’s first arc, Laura, completes the initial cast of characters that demonstrate the degree to which this story is deeply embedded in disability theory. Laura is a pink, flat rectangle, as short as Chris, but as wide as Claire. Laura has been isolated her whole life, and is introduced on a physically separate plane from the rest of the story’s characters. Laura can see the other characters, but they can’t see her, and this comes as a relief to her character. She would be okay, Laura thinks, “as long as [they] didn’t find out what she could do. Which would never happen, so long as they stayed separate.” In this instance, Laura’s deformity causes her to shrink and hide from the social world of others.
Even in a cast of diversely (dis)abled characters, Laura feels the shame from past social encounters, and resents anyone who essentializes her identity down to her ability. Eventually, Laura is forced to reveal herself to the group, who, much to her relief, accepts her without a second glance. Soon, all five characters are working together, where each character’s ability proves to be important for the story’s progression. Laura worries, however, that these characters are “just using her like all the others had.” Laura’s worries prove untrue, as the relationships between these characters deepen. Eventually, however, an ominous black cloud swarms the area and returns each character to isolation.
Ludonarrative, Disability Studies, and Civics
The second half of Thomas Was Alone’s narrative moves the story’s considerations about disability studies out of the realm of academia, and into the realms of the social and political. The story introduces its first blind character, who remains an anonymous source of cultural wisdom. The story also introduces its first character Sarah, who has the ability to double-jump across the landscape – an ability that leads her, like John, to observe other characters with condescension: “A single jump each? These were truly weak creatures.”
The story progresses through the introduction of a new social group with new (dis)abilities, and the tone of the story begins to shift once these characters access The Fountain of Wisdom (the internet) for the first time. This access to the Fountain reorients the story’s characters, pointing them to the Creation Matrix. Heading to this fabled Creation Matrix, Thomas once again appears, motivating the group with a new plan: “They were going to redesign the world. That’s what the humans did, they change the world to suit them. Why couldn’t they do the same?”
The quest for Thomas’ new group thus becomes a political and social one: what kind of world should they build in order to make the world more accessible future generations with unforeseen disabilities? What should be the new “normal”? Should there be a normal? Thomas wraps up his political considerations by thinking of himself as an architect: “He wanted to modify the world to help others. He was sick of these contrived spaces, these intentionally obtuse paths and puzzles.” The world would be a better place under Thomas’ new beneficence.
Thomas Was Alone begins with disability, but ultimately extends into real-world implications for how people think about disability in the 21st century. Interactive narratives like Thomas Was Alone tell their stories through “digital prostheses.” Interactivity becomes a surrogate medium for storytelling, and this interaction is known as ludonarrative. One of the most fundamental ludonarrative elements of Thomas Was Alone is the relationship between the player and the characters.
Elizabeth Loyer writes of how this relationship allows people to project onto avatars, which influences their perceptions of that avatar’s personality. Each avatar can take the form of three main social strata: “avatar-as-object, avatar-as-me, avatar-as-symbiote, and avatar-as-social-other.” While most analyses of player-avatar relationships focus on parasocial issues (e.g. identification, control, disbelief, responsibility), Thomas Was Alone examines parasocial issues on a spectrum that allows for bi-directional influence in terms of agency and action. This bi-directional influence transcends the quadrilateral nature of Thomas Was Alone’s character forms, as they still give the player a sense of being a goal-driven “self,” even as that self is divided between multiple characters.
The avatar-as-me trope is a vehicle through which the exploration of multiple internal, disparate identities can reinvent the actual self, after the narrative has ended. This reinvention of the self has been especially transformative for adolescents. And, in Thomas Was Alone, the adoption of multiple selves encourages players to “believe in the capabilities and choices of its characters” by creating empathy.
The real-world implications that Thomas Was Alone’s narrative offers for disability studies moves beyond political and social concerns, and into two new domains: (1) a framework for new interactive narratives that is both accessible to and representative of disabled people; and (2) effects on people who have little-to-no exposure to people with disabilities.
The first domain concerns how Thomas Was Alone, as an interactive narrative, accounts for players who may be unable to properly play through the story. Robert Kingett’s accessibility review of Thomas Was Alone, for instance, describes the story as “accessible, rich, engaging, unforgettable, and even ambitious” as a ludonarrative. Thomas Was Alone is uniquely accessible to those with physical disabilities, and, unlike most blockbuster titles, completable even for one-handed players. For the visually impaired, the visuals in Thomas Was Alone provide stark colors, contrasting shapes, rendering the characters distinguishable alongside their unique personalities. The game is accessible to deaf gamers by virtue of its heavy reliance on subtitles to guide narration, and so on. Kingett goes on to conclude how Thomas Was Alone demonstrates “how even the simplest of implementations can be crafted with vivid vision into something that’s both mind-blowing, and inclusive for the disabled.” Visually based, interactive narratives like Thomas Was Alone thus can tell their stories in ways that heretofore have not taken people with disabilities into account.
The second domain concerns how interactive narratives like Thomas Was Alone can effectively decouple prejudicial “otherness” from social groups that don’t relate to an individual player. The research of Scott Parrott et al. suggests that exposure to unfamiliar social groups may influence subsequent attitudes and emotions concerning real world people and issues, including prejudice. By adopting the perspective of a marginalized member of society, players may nurture more “positive cognition” concerning the character and social group that the character represents.
This raise in positive cognition arises from an imaginary device that psychologists call “perspective-taking,” which, in a narrative environment, Parrott et al. has shown to “shape beliefs, attitudes, and affect concerning characters.” The affect begins by virtue of time spend with this member of unfamiliar social groups. By such a narrative’s ending, players of these unfamiliar, marginalized social groups reported an increase in eight categories: “familiarity, admiration, acceptance, affection, approval, sympathy, warmth, and similarity.”
Adopting another person’s perspective in an interactive narrative, according to these findings, may itself nurture positive attitudes concerning the character and issues related to the character. Thus, mere exposure via interactive narratives takes the form of “prejudice-reduction communication.” The new frontiers of the disability studies movement may indeed take its form in the digital sphere over the course of the 21st century.
Up and to the Right
Thomas Was Alone is relatable and poignant for both disabled and non-disabled people alike. Its narrative teaches Siebers’ point that, when imperfection is removed from the body, one discovers what does not exist: uniformity. Each character in Thomas Was Alone is a testament to how non-disabled bodies are all alike, while disability takes a thousand valid, unique, and different forms.
The narrative in Thomas Was Alone, as exemplified by Thomas’ noble attempt to make the world more accessible to people of all abilities, demonstrates how digital prosthesis transcends the kill-or-cure tropes of narrative prosthesis. Thomas Was Alone portrays the complicated relationship between ability and identity, at both social and individual levels, with the degree of seriousness that such topics seldom receive in interactive narratives.
A final thought from Siebers: “As modern art increasingly defines its future direction in terms of disability, artists represent disabled bodies more and more explicitly as aesthetic objects, and the beholders of these objects must choose whether to embrace or to reject the strong feelings excited by disability.”
By thinking about Thomas Was Alone through disability theorists like Siebers, in tandem with game scholars like Joyal, Loyers, Kingett, and Parrott et al., two promising futures emerge: (1) a vision for better portrayal, inclusion and representation of disabled people in 21st century storytelling mediums; and (2) a successful instance of how characters that represent marginalized groups can open up a critical conversation with people who would otherwise have neither the exposure to, or the vocabulary for, such a discussion.
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