5

Designing an Immersive Narrative

There’s an old adage in the advertising industry that the first two questions that should be asked at the beginning of any project are the following:

1. Who is my audience?
2. What is the one thing I want them to walk away with?

We will expand on these questions and add others to consider. However, these questions move us toward some basic considerations we must engage as we begin. They can act as filters to apply to the potential narratives we will consider.

VR experiences benefit greatly when these questions are addressed articulately in the earliest stages of the project. Answering these questions as specifically as possible can save a great deal of resources later in the process, as well. Many projects have been restarted or scrapped all together because these questions were not asked directly in the beginning. While you should have a general idea about the demographic you are trying to communicate with, developing specifics about the audience and their preferences can be helpful. Most creators have a plethora of ideas they want their audience to carry with them from a media experience. However, recognizing that we are fortunate if an audience member retains even a single idea is a realistic approach.

Determining the Audience

Most projects will have multiple audiences. However, it is important that we determine a primary audience for every project. Other viewers may be secondary audiences or even outlying audiences, but the demographic qualities of the primary audience should be as narrowed and specific as possible. The purpose of the project will likely be intertwined with the audience. For example, if the purpose of the project is commercial in nature, then the primary audience will be those in the demographic most statistically likely to buy it. The purpose of the project is discussed in more detail in what follows. We can further our focus into parsing out more narrow audiences within the general demographic as we proceed. A wide array of marketing books can provide demographic categories, which can be helpful in designing your narrative. However, a quantitative approach may be less helpful than a simple qualitative approach. Envision the person you assume most likely to buy or appreciate your project. Keeping the embodiment of that person in the forefront of your creation process will often be all that is needed in order to craft a successful narrative. Once you begin to design for this audience, the next step in the natural progression is to ask what you want them to feel or do.

Determining the Purpose

Like the audience, there may be multiple purposes to any given project. For example, the purpose of the project may be commercial as well as entertainment. Like with determining the audience, it is key that a primary purpose be determined. There can be secondary purposes and outlying purposes as well. However, there will be points in the project at which one purpose will need to trump another. These decisions can be agonizing without a primary purpose to act as a guide in decision making. If there are several key ideas that are important to communicate, prioritizing the ideas can at least give structure to the development of your story. However, it is not always the development phase of VR storytelling in which narratives get lost but often in the process itself. Though it may be tempting to do so, beginning the process of sketching out characters, environments, settings, and plot lines without first determining the purpose of the storytelling experience can lead to backtracking, wasted time, and errors in development. In determining the goal for a story, we must return to basic communication theory and rhetoric, which means returning to Aristotle. For the purposes of this text, we will simplify Aristotle’s treatise on the subject and simply state that the purpose for your story should be either to entertain, persuade, or inform.

To Entertain

A vast amount of the media produced today is for the sole purpose of entertaining the audience. This is perhaps especially significant for new mediums such as VR. If people don’t enjoy and perceive some entertainment value with VR in the first few moments they experience it, it is less likely they will invest significant time with the technology in the future without greater influence from an outside source at a later time. Even uses for VR with a key purpose beyond entertainment will run into the barrier of this expectation until culture has normalized the technology, and in some cases beyond. Those migrating from other platforms in which entertainment is the chief function, such as video games, will likely have a higher expectation for entertainment.

To Persuade

With all the content available to viewers at any given time, our tendency to be persuaded by what we see has become more refined and nuanced. However, audiences have become weary of content that begins to feel like propaganda. They know immediately when an attempt to persuade them is being made. This is not to say that immersive content should not be used for persuasion. Indeed, this is one of the things that VR does best. Creators should, however, be aware of the ethics involved with persuading the viewer by flooding the brain with immersive content. A more detailed discussion of the ethical issues in the field can be found later in this book. Because experience is one of the most significant factors in changing people’s minds, persuasion can be a natural goal with VR experiences. Motivating or inspiring the audience, as well as moving them to action, are all activities that fall within the domain of persuasion.

To Inform

Of course, some content is simply constructed for the sake of informing the audience. VR has the potential to make stale data more interesting just through the fundamentals of the medium. However, even when the sole purpose of creating an experience is simply to inform, VR can open up an informative story in powerful ways. Journalism, training, and education are all fields in which informational storytelling can be used.

The sources for potential immersive stories can be just as vast as the purposes behind them. Just as many films originate from newspaper articles, myths and legends, and personal experiences, VR stories can come from any of the wells we draw from to create narratives for other mediums. Of course, as is popular with games, powerful stories often come right from the human imagination, having no identifiable inspiration. These ideas and concepts also can be fodder for the creation of narratives. The question that can act as a helpful guide will be: will this story be more impactful to my audience by further immersing them in the world where it occurs. The answer is usually yes.

Establishing Your Story’s Point of View (POV) and Understanding Characters

Once we have a concept to create a story from and have determined our audience and the purpose of the piece we are creating, we can begin to unpack other logistic concerns for crafting our actual story. The first concern we should address is the point of view or POV from which the story will be told. Herein lies the difference between story creating and storytelling. Here we again draw on the history of other mediums such as theater and the novel.

First-Person Point of View

This term refers to narratives in which the main character is telling the story. We only experience the story through this person’s eyes, thus keeping us from any experiences or knowledge that this character has not personally experienced themselves. In immersive experiences, such as VR, this refers to the story playing out through the viewer’s eyes. In other words, the viewer or experiencer is the main character and protagonist.

First-Person Peripheral

This term refers to stories in which the narrator or storyteller is a supporting character in the story but not the main character. What is key to remember with stories using this point of view is that there will be experiences and scenes that happen to the protagonist of the story that the narrator will not be privy to. This approach is different from the third-person point of view in which the viewer is a “ghost” in the scene. With first-person peripheral, the viewer should be acknowledged by other characters and have some role in the narrative, though not the driving role.

Second-Person Point of View

This term is most often used in instructional experiences, where the “story” is told from the perspective of “you.” This perspective is much less common in other narrative forms and will have limited use in narrative-based immersive experiences. However, a notable exception might be scenes in which instructions are provided in gaming or interactive narratives.

Third-Person Point of View

This term refers to stories in which the narrator is not a character in the narrative but instead an observer. In immersive experiences using third-person point of view, the viewer is unnoticed by characters in the experience. They, in a sense, are a “ghost” in the scene, observing everything that happens but not making decisions that affect the narrative at all. This point of view is most closely related to the experience viewers encounter when going to the movies. Within third-person point of view, there are also several variations.

Third-Person Limited

This term refers to narratives in which the POV is limited to only one character. The narrator or viewer only knows what that character knows.

Third-Person Multiple

This term refers to narratives in which the narrator or viewer can follow multiple characters within the story. Caution must be used when moving from one character’s POV to another, however, to avoid audience confusion.

Third-Person Omniscient

This term refers to narratives in which the narrator or viewer knows everything and is not limited only to what one character knows. This POV can be especially interesting in interactive and gaming experiences, as it allows the viewer a greater role as supreme being of the world they are immersed in.

The Sense of “Self” in Immersive Narratives

In realities in which we are literally redefining our self, it may be helpful to consider exactly what that self is, since the viewer will likely be working through this experience as well. Since the inception of consciousness, the self has been fairly binary. We experience our inner self, which ranges from our interior thought life to our virtual presence on the internet. We also experience our external self in the real world. This self interacts with and is partially defined by others. It gives us agency in the world around us. In Virtual Reality, we have been given, in effect, a second self. This self shares our internal experience but has been given a second external experience. In many cases, we have been given a second body in the form of an avatar. We have been given agency in a new and very realistic world. This new external virtual self is not yet made to live within the confines of natural or human-made laws, such as the law of gravity or the penal code. Yet we will continue to establish our presence in this new reality by what we know and have experienced in the world we originated in.

The Ship of Theseus

Returning to the philosophies of the ancients can help us further explore how the self orients and changes in immersive space. In the late first century, Plutarch authored a volume titled Life of Theseus. While recording the Greek legend, he asked whether a ship that had been restored by replacing every piece of wood on it remained the same ship. The question has become known as Theseus’ Paradox and is applicable in immersive virtual spaces. Is a human being that has been completely replaced by digital and virtual “parts” still a human being? The question becomes more interesting when we consider the philosophy of Thomas Hobbes, who gave the question further nuance a few centuries later by asking if the original planks of the ship were gathered up after being replaced and used to build a second ship, which ship would be the original? Thinkers from Aristotle and Heraclitus to David Hume have attempted to provide answers and lenses with which to give insight to the question. The honest answer to these questions, as they apply to virtual immersive space, is that we don’t know. There simply hasn’t been enough time to research and study how these emerging technologies will change our perceptions of who we are and how we behave. Our best practice will be to consider these questions in crafting our narratives and to continue the conversation as more information becomes available and experiences become lessons.

Concepts to Consider from Chris Milk

• The language and technology of cinema were birthed at the same time. However, with VR, the technology was birthed first. Now the language must be invented.
• Virtual Reality is growing out of a new fundamental technology, unlike mediums of the past.
• Virtual Reality captures, constructs, and broadcasts the human experience to us firsthand.
• Social experiential storytelling in virtual space will likely be significant in the future of VR.
• Not every VR experience will enforce Joseph Campbell’s concept of the hero’s journey, but it is a good place to begin experimenting.
• A gap exists between the branching narratives created in gaming or VR space and emotionally impactful branching narratives we experience in day-to-day life.
• There are technological barriers to overcome before VR storytelling can begin to explore its fullest potential.

Putting Ideas Together

Chris Milk is emphatic that we not allow technological limitations to become barriers in our efforts to tell the best stories possible with the tools we presently have. While Milk likely has more resources at his disposal than the majority of creators reading this book, it should be comforting that he works within the same realms of possibility that all storytellers are currently experiencing. Telling good stories can never be about the technology available to us. It must always remain the tool with which we tell powerful stories. Experimentation and working with others both inside and outside of virtual space will be essential guidelines for moving VR storytelling into the future.

Traditional Narratives

Taking the essential elements of story—characters, goals, conflicts, and resolutions—we can begin to explore how these elements fit together in narratives, keeping in mind we are looking for form and not formula. While entire volumes have been written on structure around visual stories, we will look at the basics used in three particular media: film, television, and webisodic storytelling. While there are vast numbers of exceptions, most films since the mediums’ inception have been based around the three-act structure we received from Aristotle, having a beginning, a middle, and an end. Also, varying greatly, especially in the age of cable television, is the five-act approach used in the majority of produced television. The five-act approach evolved out of the need for commercial breaks in televised storytelling, a problem that has been eliminated with subscription-based cable, though much of the content produced for that platform still abides by this structure. Finally, web-based storytelling in the form of webisodes, online narrative gaming, and even Vines has not needed the rigidity of an act-based structure system and instead has opted for beat-based storytelling—an idea that is discussed in greater detail in what follows.

For some, the information that follows around historical media structure will be review. For those coming from technological fields, it may be new. Regardless of one’s experience with narrative structure, reiterating the basic forms is essential due to variances in understanding around them as well as the nature of their deceptive simplicity. Master storytellers often return to the basic forms to reground their understanding and work.

Three-Act Structure

Traditional theater provides the basis for much of how cinematic storytelling would evolve. Stage plays had literally thousands of years of development before the first story would be projected on a screen. One act plays, stories told in three acts, and even multiact epics were not uncommon. However, it would be the Aristotelian suggestion of three acts that would resonate most significantly with cinematic storytelling. There are a wide variety of ideas around what precisely should be in each of the three acts. Traditionalists suggest that the first quarter of the story should occur in the first act, half of the story should take place in the second act, and the final act of storytelling comprises the third act. Some break the second act in half, adamantly affirming that there are actually four acts in cinema, making each act an even 25% of the narrative. Others take a minimalist approach, claiming that whatever happens near the beginning of a film is the first act, whatever happens near the end is the third act, and whatever happens between those two makes up the second act. Still others point to exact beats and moments that they believe should occur at fairly precise times within each act of the story. Believing that the wise approach is likely the middle road, we will look at each act in terms of what has been generally accepted and practiced within the industry.

Act I

Most theorists and practitioners agree that the characters and their general backstories should be revealed in the first act. Even if all the key characters are not yet seen by the audience, knowing who they are helps orient the viewer in the story world. In VR environments, the audience will naturally be curious to determine if they are watching the protagonist of the story or if they are the protagonist themselves. Depending on the scenario of the narrative, they will likely have equal curiosities about the antagonist and other side characters.

In Act I, it is important to establish the “before” world, so that by the end of the narrative, we have made clear the “after” world. Subtle cues as the norms in the culture of this world should be communicated. The importance of the first images and complete scene that the audience experiences cannot be overestimated. These initial impressions will orient the audience with psychology about what they are seeing that will be difficult if not impossible to alter later in the story. One of the easiest pitfalls one can fall into in the first act is creating confusion. While some confusion can be helpful in disorienting the viewer for a short time, at least a portion of the viewer’s confusion should be alleviated quickly so that they have “handles” to proceed with as the narrative progresses.

Viewers will often subconsciously be asking the following questions because of training from established narrative techniques established in other mediums. Whose story is this? Which character do I find most interesting or appealing? Can I become invested in their journey? What are they trying to accomplish in this story? Who is opposing them or their goal? Other elements viewers often look for in the first act are hints at the themes that will be explored and reveals of the main character’s weaknesses or flaws. It can be helpful in the first act to gently explore what lesson our main character needs to learn over the course of their journey.

One final element that can be crucial in the first act is the event that propels the story forward most dramatically. Some refer to this event as the catalyst moment, others call it the inciting incident, but the function of the element is the same. This event will be what shakes the normalcy of the “before” world. It will force the protagonist into a decision whether to go on their journey or not. It could be as simple as the moment when the boy meets the girl. However, it can be a tragic moment as well. Deaths, births, weddings, revelations of infidelity, escapes, and appearances of characters from the protagonist’s past all can be events that alter life in unchangeable ways.

Act II

There is another dramatic event that subtly lets the audience know that we have entered into the main body of the story—the second act. This might be our protagonist choosing to go on the journey that the inciting incident provided. If the catalyst involved the death of a protagonist’s father, this event might be the selling of the family home, which forces him or her into a new neighborhood or new schools. Most common is a scenario in which the main character makes a choice to enter the journey of the second act, as opposed to having a situation forced on them. An old film industry adage suggest that audiences resonate more deeply with characters that make decisions as opposed to simply reacting to events that happen to them and becoming victims of circumstance. This might be surprising to some storytellers who would feel that seeing a character have something beyond their control forced on them would create a deeper level of empathy. However, we must remember that narratives suggest a connection with who we want to be more so than who we actually are.

The second act can play out in a variety of ways. Sometimes, it features our main character trying desperately to get what they want, using a variety of means but always failing. Other times, the second act sets up the twists and turns that make the plot interesting to viewers trying to figure out where the story is going. Most commonly, a game of cat and mouse occurs between the protagonistic forces and the antagonistic forces. The protagonist(s) try to advance and do take two steps forward, only to be forced into taking one step back by the antagonist(s). In some narrative structures, we begin to explore the lives and journeys of more minor characters as well as smaller goals the protagonist may have, such as getting the girl in the process of getting the gold.

Usually in the middle of the second act, our protagonist is either in a significantly high moment or a significantly low moment. If they are in a significantly high moment, the floor is about to drop out from under them. If they are in a significantly low moment, there is an unexpected elevator about to rise for them. This moment is sometimes referred to as the turn, as in a turn of events is about to occur. Another event the audience may be unconsciously looking for is a moment in which it appears that the protagonist has lost everything they have gained, or what they now have seems insignificant. This event often leads to a moment of reflection, when another character must step in and remind the protagonist what they are fighting for, which inevitably gives them the strength they need to finish the journey.

Act III

The final act involves the most significant showdown between the protagonist forces and antagonistic forces. It is here that the audience has to see if the protagonist has learned the lesson or overcome the weakness they demonstrated in the first act. The theme that was hinted at in the beginning of the story returns with ringing clarity. Even within the third act, moments usually occur when we are unsure if the main character will prevail—and sometimes they don’t. In traditional Hollywood films, the main character often gets what they want as well as what they need. However, sometimes this character does not get what they want and instead gets what they need. In fewer cases, the character gets what they want but not what they need. And rarely, outside of Greek tragedies, does a character get neither what they want or what they need.

Whether the main character emerges victorious or is left licking their wounds, it is important to demonstrate what life is like in the “after” world. There are various techniques for bookending a story with visual metaphors and echoes of what the audience initially saw and experiences in the story. All these techniques, however, are about accomplishing one thing—resolution in the mind of the audience. The viewer wants to feel that the story has truly ended. When things feel completely unresolved at the end of the story, viewers feel a sense of frustration. This doesn’t mean that every narrative story line and character arc must be wrapped up with a bow on top. However, feeling some sense of resolution in each character’s story helps the audience complete the narrative in their mind and create some sort of meaning out of what they have seen. Often, there is a final moment referred to as the dénouement that shows us how life goes on after the story has resolved. This tag or button at the end of the story serves as a cherry on top of our narrative sundae.

Five-Act Structure

The basic arc of five-act television structure is not unlike the three-act structure we see in film, with a few key differences. The origin of using five acts to convey a narrative is almost as old as the idea of using three. The Roman poet Horace understood Aristotle’s three-act model and advocated it be expanded to five for playwrights. Hundreds of years later, German playwright Gustav Freytag modified Horace’s model to analyze Shakespearean dramas in five acts. The first act was known as the exposition, when the audiences were introduced to the setup of characters, backstories, and settings. The second act was called the rising action. In this act, action leads to the most intent moment of the story. The third act was the climax, which was the turning point of the play. The fourth act was referred to as the falling action and contained plot twists and reveals. Finally, the fifth act was termed the dénouement or resolution.

With television, these five acts took on additional modifications to situate a narrative around commercial breaks but also to provide intrigue that would bring the audience back to the story after the break. There are a number of formats used in television. There are one-hour dramas or serials, one-hour procedurals, half-hour procedurals, and half-hour sitcoms, as well as the limited series and the mini-series. Here is a breakdown of the structure used in many traditional episodic television series.

Teaser

Most TV shows begin with an element called the teaser. Even in a one-hour drama, the teaser is usually five minutes or less. The teaser, in a sense, calls the story to action. It opens the story world and reminds us who the characters we are following are but often has little to do with the conflict that will be explored in the episode of the show, though on some shows it sets this up as well.

Act I

This act introduces the story at hand. It gives enough backstory for the impending conflict that we are not confused when it arrives. Unless we are watching the pilot episode of the show, the creators assume we are familiar with the characters, their backstories, their weaknesses, and the locations in which the story will take place. The first act concludes with a moment that sometimes feels like a cliffhanger but at least in some ways resembles the inciting incident discussed in the section on three-act structure. This moment should present the central conflict in the episode.

Act II

The second act begins to unpack the central conflict. Viewers become privy to how the characters are going to deal with the problem. By the conclusion of the second act, audiences usually feel hopeful that the characters are going to be able to resolve the central conflict—until the final moments of this act—when the floor drops out from under them. This moment again sets up another cliffhanger or catalyst that reverses the fortunes of the central characters.

Act III

This segment of the story resembles the end of the second act in three-act structure, when the central characters often feel like the antagonists will win—all hope is lost. The hope we had earlier that they will succeed in their goals is proven false in Act III. The end of this act resolves by creating a situation that makes the viewer curious about how the characters will be able to succeed in the end.

Act IV

At this point in the story, the central characters begin to gain ground again. The viewer has a sense that they have learned from the mistakes they have made in the past. The audience feels a payoff watching the characters not repeat the same mistakes but instead approach the problem from a different angle. At the end of this act, the story usually resolves. We see the central characters succeed (or fail) at their goal.

Act V

Act V is about wrapping up the story and bringing closure. The audience is given a feeling of resolution. Depending on the nature of the show, sometimes this act provides a tease for viewers to tune in for the next show—a dénouement of sorts.

Webisodic Structure

In our modern digital age of storytelling, we are beginning to see shifts in structure to accommodate new mediums as well as the elimination of elements that are no longer needed in emerging formats. It is important to remember that this is not a sign that all structural narrative design is being abandoned. Instead, it simply points to the latest evolutions in structure as creators find new ways to bring resonating stories to their audiences. Programming streamed on services that no longer require commercial breaks continue to use structure that holds to that format for two reasons. The first is that in this transmedia world, a creator can never be sure of all the eventual distribution platforms for his or her work. For this reason, many hold to the traditional structure in case the program eventually does become available on a commercial-based platform. The second is that traditional structures are based around how human beings solve problems, as stated earlier. Many of these structures are used because they work, not because that’s how it has always been done. We can recall the examples of architecture and musical structure.

Beat-Based Structure

Webisodes and other digitally based programming will often embrace beat-based structure. This is a format in which the audience is guided from one narrative beat to the next. This can be particularly helpful in stories that fall under the “slice of life” genre. In these stories, we get a glimpse into who a character is by watching them live out their days. There is not necessarily an external goal trying to be achieved, and if there is, it may seem insignificant. A character arc might not be occurring, but certainly significant moments or beats in the character’s journey are.

Two cautions should be mentioned when working with beat-based structure. The first is that many storytellers hide behind such structure because they are unable to execute a traditional structure. Obviously, few would readily admit such. However, vast amounts of evidence can be found in the stories they execute. This flavor of structure should not be used simply because one wants to avoid using a traditional structure. Instead, it should be used if this format best fits the story a creator is trying to tell. The second caution that creators should be aware of is the lack of commercial potential for content structured in such a way. Films with alternative structures or beat-based structure rarely perform well at the box office. Television programming with such structures has been virtually nonexistent. And while digital content and webisodic programming have had a few success stories, there are very few creators currently able to sustain careers solely in this format. This is not to say that these types of content are not important, however. Such experimental programming and structure pushes the envelope of the medium of visual storytelling. We learn through such work. Those lessons learned can be brought into traditional formats in order to bring fresh and creative approaches. It should also be stated that many of these formats are quite young compared to more established mediums such as film or certainly theater. We may very well see such formats find commercial success in the future.

Interactive and Immersive Structure

Applications for VR Experiences

As has been discussed earlier with remediation, VR has recrafted, modified, and redefined many of these structures and concepts. However, it is also important to recognize that some of these concepts, such as three-act structure, have worked well within VR contexts without modification. Matt Thompson’s VR experience, Lucy, available as a case study in this text, would be an example of this. Using traditional concepts and structures as a jumping-off point, the following section offers suggestions for methods and techniques in crafting VR narratives using the elements of traditional structures and combining or configuring them in new ways.

Interactive Three-Act Structure

With this technique, the basic elements of three-act structure are maintained as discussed earlier. However, it includes an interactive element through which the user experiences agency and is given some degree of choice at the beginning of the narrative, between each act, and in the conclusion of the piece. The interactive elements should further the user’s immersion in the piece but not allow the user to change the overarching narrative. The basic story should remain the same. This technique can be useful when introducing new users to VR and in cases in which agency and immersion might be overwhelming to a user. It may also be helpful when creators wish to show the potential of an experience without the time or resources to craft a more in-depth immersive experience with complete agency.

Interactive Five-Act Structure

With this technique, there is greater room for the user to actually drive and recraft the story with their decisions and agency. Interactive elements are introduced more often, though still between act breaks, creating greater senses of possibility for outcomes. This structure works with narratives that function like television procedurals such as Law and Order or NCIS. Those familiar with the board game or film Clue may also see connective possibilities. Agency beyond interactive decisions at act breaks can provide for further viewer immersion. Options common to many video games, such as choice of weapon, character-related abilities or powers, and maps are examples of possibilities. Obviously, the greater the agency, interactivity, and immersion, the greater the amount of time and resources a story needs to be properly executed.

Interactive Beat-Based Structure

Many if not most current VR narratives echo the beat-based structure found in webisodes, many online, and some video game experiences. This is partially due to technological constraints, audience attention spans, and the industry desire to produce as much content as possible so that a wider adoption of the technology can be achieved. It can also be attributed to the fact that a beat-based structure simply works better for many VR experiences. Many immersive experiences are not intended to tell a story in the way that a film, television program, or video game is intended to. They do, however, need and use the narrative shards that have been discussed in order to draw the audience into and further engage them in the experience. Any number of methods or techniques may be applicable and appropriate. Slices of life, simple game-like challenges, or even just narrative characters all may be brought from the wider storytelling world into beat-based structure. Any of the beats mentioned in the previous section on beat-based structure may be helpful. While three-act and five-act structures are linear in nature, interactive beat-based structures may be circular in nature. A viewer or player may not need to complete the entire narrative circle in order to return to the beginning of (or any point in, for that matter) the experience.

Backstory Structure

VR experiences may not only be about the journey of a character but also or instead about the preparation of a character for that journey. In narrative discussions, this is called the backstory. While the backstory can involve an entire narrative itself, much in the way that Rogue One provides a backstory for Star Wars: A New Hope, this is not always the case, nor need it be. Sometimes, in gaming or VR narratives, the backstory may be simple preparatory experiences a user is offered to help familiarize them with the controllers or gear used in the experience, either outside the virtual world or within it. While this experience may not follow anything as elaborate as the three structures just mentioned, it may follow a simple structure with three elements or acts, such as the one that follows:

• Explanation: This element or act will explain to the user, through either words, text, graphics, icons, or other intuitive suggestion, how to navigate in the virtual world they are about to enter, the agency offered to them, and the interactive choices they will be allowed to make. These explanations may be spelled out explicitly or instead implicitly implied through a variety of means. In many ways, this act mirrors the first act or set-up in dramatic structure.
• Offering of Options: This element or act will allow the user to make the choices mentioned in the explanation. In this phase, the user may want to compare options and change their mind several times before committing to a choice. This element is similar to the transition scene between the first and second acts in dramatic structure.
• Practice: This element or act will allow the user to experience the choices they made before engaging in the experience itself. An important element of this phase is to allow the user to return to the offering of options in order to select another choice should they be unhappy with theirs in the practice phase. The practice phase loosely mirrors the second act in dramatic structure. The game or experience itself mirrors the third act.

Ethical Considerations for Virtual Reality

The HBO series Westworld has opened a wider conversation about the potentials and dangers of immersive environments like VR. The series, based on a book and film by Michael Crichton, features a futuristic theme park in which robotic hosts allow visitors to live out their fantasies through artificial consciousness. Part of the fun in the series is being unsure who is human and who is AI. In an early episode, a character we have learned to be human asks another character, “Are you real?” She responds, “If you can’t tell, does it matter?” Cocreator of the show Lisa Joy has asked, “Now as technology develops, you start to wonder: Where is that line where it becomes immoral not to have empathy, even if you know these creatures are artificial?”¹ This seems to be not only the driving thematic question of the show but also a driving thematic question being asked in global culture. The age-old question—What does it mean to be human?—seems more relevant than ever before.

Too often, ethical considerations regarding emerging mediums are not considered until deep in the development process. The potential ramifications of VR, specifically as it intersects with AI technology, have driven some, including Elon Musk, Bill Gates, and Stephen Hawking, to voice concerns about exactly what technology we allow to be developed and what might be better left in Pandora’s box. Certainly, all concerned voices are protechnology and are realistic about stopping or slowing any type of technological advancement. However, their concerns are well founded and should encourage dialogue about how immersive technologies should be consumed and developed.

The potential ethical issues of immersion are not a new idea. The power of immersive narratives made Plato distrust the poets as a threat to the Republic. In Don Quixote, Miguel de Cervantes writes, “In short, he so immersed himself in those romances that he spent whole days and nights over his books; and thus with little sleeping and much reading, his brain dried up to such a degree that he lost the use of his reason.”² Huxley warns in Brave New World against the dangers of letting multisensory art diminish reason and eventually imagination. Losing oneself in another world has long been a goal of immersive entertainment experiences. However, technologies including VR seem to offer a more intense level of immersion with fewer guardrails to protect those who might be more vulnerable to its dangers from flying off the tracks.

The ethical concerns in VR range from the minor nausea akin to that experienced on theme park rides to the more serious, AWS (alternate world syndrome) and even virtual sexual assault. Technologies continue to develop more rapidly than social science can study phenomena, and little money is available for the research that is conducted. The bottom line is that we simply don’t know what dangers may be lying in the virtual worlds and will not likely have much indication until it is upon us. We do, however, have research that indicates that in order for an experience to remain pleasurable, it must be temporary and remain distinct from addiction.

Considerations for Immersive Experiences

For a number of years, there have been ongoing discussions in other immersive fields, including theme parks and immersive theater, as to where ethical boundaries lie. While not necessarily outlining firm rules, there are certain questions and conversations that often happen around these experiences. These discussions can be helpful in some VR experiences as well. The first issue is that of permission. It can be argued that when a viewer puts on an HMD, they are “going through the turnstile” or opting in to the experience. However, the question must be asked if they have granted permission for any virtual experience just by entering VR. There is currently no set of standards or code, either voluntary or enforced. At a minimum, viewers should be made aware of any potential extremes in the experience. This protects not only the viewer but the creator as well. While this might seem like common sense to some, the power of and temptation for surprise in a VR experience can be difficult to resist, as it demonstrates the great power the immersion holds. Because the immersion in VR is unlike any that previous entertainment or educational mediums have previously offered, it becomes imperative that creators lean in to negotiating the experience before the viewer enters, as it is a mediated experience. Consequences of experiences must be considered in advance.

Risks in Virtual Space

In late 2016, a woman named Jordan Belamire was shooting zombies alongside strangers in QuiVr when another player virtually rubbed her chest and shoved his “hand” toward her virtual crotch. The incident was reported internationally and gave voice to emerging risks when entering virtual space. While there are laws that would protect Belamire and punish the offender in the real world, no such laws exist in the virtual arena. When QuiVr developer Aaron Stanton learned that a woman had been groped while playing the game, he stated, “Our first response was, ‘Let’s make sure this never happens again.’ It’s up to developers to create controls to make players feel safe inside the world that they’ve brought to life. We need to offer tools that give players better controls, not simply better ways to hide.”³ Altspace VR, a virtual chatroom, offers users a virtual bubble that can be enabled. QuiVr offers this option as well, but its developers feel it should be a standardized control across VR. Stanton has suggested that developers unite to create a universal “power gesture” to combat harassment in VR. This would essentially be a “safe word” in the form of a motion that would give the player the power to protect themselves.

Privacy in Virtual Space

There is an ongoing discussion in the VR creator and storytelling community about whether VR is a public or private space. Should a user be assured some level of privacy when they put on an HMD? There will likely be a great deal of discussion and trial and error before any standards are eventually developed. However, recognizing the importance privacy has played in real life as well as in online space, the significance of the issue for VR cannot be underestimated. Creators would do well to be forward thinking in their development of new games and experiences if they anticipate a long shelf life for the products that they create.

Concepts to Consider from Steve Peters

• Experiences should allow users to “opt in,” making the line between fiction and reality clear to any user that desires to be aware of it.
• Creators should consider the variety of reactions that an audience may have in a given experience. Feeling betrayed, hoaxed, or unintelligent usually provides for an unpleasant experience for many users.
• Audiences who engage an HMD are vulnerable and should be treated with respect by responsible creators.

Putting Ideas Together

Anyone who’s watched another person experience VR for the first time can appreciate Steve Peters’s caution about the vulnerability of audiences. A greater amount of trust is required of the audience than in perhaps any previous medium of storytelling. These immediate concerns about immersive narratives must be addressed in every new experience brought to market. However, the long-term ethical issues surrounding VR are greatly unknown. It is likely that we will see individuals become addicted to their virtual life and experiences, as has been the case with the internet. It is also likely that tremendous ethical challenges and questions await us that we have no way of determining. Creators and storytellers would do well to continually be asking questions of ethics in each phase of development with their experiences. Even if answers to these questions aren’t readily available, keeping potential issues as part of the conversation will benefit users and creators alike.

Exercises

The following exercises may be helpful in creating a narrative for VR, AR, MR, and other immersive spaces.

Exercise 1 

Exercise 2 

Exercise 3