The Toxicity of Narrative Closure
half-formed thoughts, justice from the cataclysm, and a playtest request
Hello! Long time no see. I let this go dormant for a long time — life stuff got in the way, but I also got anxious about writing The Most Thoughtful Blog on Worldbuilding and chickened out of writing anything at all. I want to take that pressure off and use this space to experiment with half-formed ideas and thoughts, especially as I write my dissertation (where, presumably, all of the fully-formed ideas and thoughts will end up). This is the first entry in that series.
Also: I’m seeking playtesters for the second edition of my card game One Hour Worldbuilders! Read to the bottom for more info.
With the world falling apart, I often find myself fantasizing about narrative closure.
When the election results came in, I imagined smug smiles fading from the faces of liberal politicians who pushed back so decisively against even the crumbs of popular reform.
When LA was on fire, I imagined a climate denier’s house burning down, all of the things they bought with their oil money melting in the blaze.
This week I’m imagining those gay and trans grifters who tokenized themselves for the far-right. How will they feel when their birth certificates are reverted, their deadnames resurrected, their rights taken away? What will it look like, the moment they realize their fanbases have been playing them this whole time? These past months I have imagined countless moments of recognition. Countless little narrative arcs coming to their endings.
Perhaps all of these endings are deserved. As stories, they’re satisfying. Narrative, character-driven media has taught us to hope for conclusions that feel like a bow being tied, ones where the world itself contrives to show one person why they are wrong. And I have to admit that when it happens, it feels really good. I’m sure we’ve all reveled in moments of comeuppance.
But I’m finding schadenfreude less and less satisfying these days. The election still happened. LA still burned. Over a million trans people in the USA will have our rights taken away, and the vast majority of that number are not right-wing grifters. Perhaps it makes the horrors easier to grapple with, when you imagine them delivering justice to bad people.
But I’m sick and tired of waiting for justice to be dispensed by the cataclysm.
Narrative closure offers the fantasy of perfect justice, by framing that justice around the emotional journeys of individuals. But in the real world, people rarely get what they deserve, and even when they do, they almost never really recognize what they did wrong or how they caused harm. The real world does not bend towards narrative closure. Waiting and hoping for that moment of recognition can only breed spite.
It’s hard motivating myself to write a dissertation while the world crumbles around me. It’s hard motivating myself to do much of anything, but the intricate, humanistic study of video games feels less and less meaningful right now. And when the world is so obviously awful, and the solutions (wealth redistribution, climate action, etc.) so concrete, I feel weird suggesting that what we really need is better imaginative processes.
But in a small way, I think worldbuilding can help us here. The act of worldbuilding helps us move beyond narrative closure. Worldbuilding focuses creative attention not on narrative arcs and hero’s journeys, but on the forces beyond us — the entangled systems that connect and structure our lives, that we can perhaps help to shape in turn. Good worldbuilding acknowledges that justice is rarely perfect, that history is always contingent, and that stories never really end. I think that practicing worldbuilding can help us come to terms with these feelings, and to focus on the kinds of collective stories of which we are all a part, instead of the individual and emotional stories we will never impact. For me at least, it pushes me away from spite and towards action, away from the people who I still very much hope will someday get their deserved comeuppance — and towards the collectives I can join.
Playtesting One Hour Worldbuilders
There’s no good way to segue into this, but: I’m seeking playtesters for the second edition of One Hour Worldbuilders!
Many of you follow me here because you’ve played my co-operative card game, One Hour Worldbuilders. In the almost six (!!) years since I first developed this game, I've seen it played on three continents, by everyone from kids to workers, artists to activists, newcomers to hardcore TTRPG enthusiasts. I've even sold out of my first print run, which is a huge milestone for a game that was self-published, self-funded, and only barely marketed. Thank you for your support!
I am now planning a second edition, which I hope will include a second print run of the game. I've received a lot of feedback over the years and I'm so excited to make the next version of 1HWB even better. I am seeking playtesters for this second edition and I would love for all of you to be among them.
Here is what you would need to do:
Print out the new deck of cards (I will send you a PDF).
Run a session of 1HWB, ideally with 3-5 people (but I would accept solo playtesters as well).
Take a photo of your completed session.
Fill out a short feedback form by March 15th with your thoughts.
If you've already purchased the digital version of 1HWB, you'll automatically receive the second edition when I release it.
Instead, in return for playtesting 1HWB, you'll receive my unending gratitude :) In addition, I'd be happy to make time to playtest your projects, discuss your creative ideas, or listen to you talk about your fictional worlds & lore.
I'll close this form on March 1st, or when I've found enough playtesters.
Thank you in advance!