There's a Hole in My Plot!

I had always been interested in Heavy Rain’s concept, and, as such, really and truly looked forward to its release. Its theme had always seemed fresh and original, and something that could, if executed properly, propel the adventure genre in an exciting new direction. Point-and-click adventure series of old had always been so static, with a decidedly linear chain of progression that made the player feel ‘stuck’ on a pre-determined path. Interestingly enough, however, it was via these straightforward means that some of the more compelling narratives were created. As the stories' weaved themselves slowly into their climax, things never became overly complex, and, as a result, the writers were always in control.

Heavy Rain, as bold as it is, attempted to kill this chain of command, instead placing the players in control of each scene and giving them freedom over almost every action – shaving and taking a piss included. But these movements were never fixed or mapped to a specific button. In a move away from accepted game conventions (press X to…), each and every interactive piece in the world could, in effect, be manipulated by any interface on your controller. Suddenly, your right analog stick no longer solely controlled the camera; it flipped eggs, turned on lights, dodged incoming bullets and moved your car out of the way of fast moving traffic. And, although it didn’t take long to notice patterns in HR’s own tendencies, the control scheme was well-implemented for the most part. While some criticized Heavy Rain for its interactivity, labeling it as more of a movie than an actual game, I stood on the other side of the fence. In fact, the sheer multitude and variety of behaviors granted to the character and, in turn, the player, made the whole experience more tangible. The world no longer became accessible by mere button-mashing, instead shaped by my timing and ability to respond to changeable circumstances. Indeed, a puppet show is perhaps the best analogy for a game such as Heavy Rain. In much the same way that strings affect the movement of marionettes, the speed and fashion that the controller is manipulated reflects the way in which the game’s characters respond.  My controller represented the strings to the puppets of Heavy Rain’s plotline, and I alone was responsible for its concluding moments. It’s just too bad that the finale is so poorly crafted on the developer’s part.

To call Heavy Rain’s final moments sloppy is an understatement. In fact, they’re pretty atrocious, and are a testament to the degree of failure that can sometimes arise when one writes as they go. But, in most cases, there’s nothing wrong with that developmental method. When I toy with my own ideas and attempt fiction, there’s no way I would even consider planning the entire framework of a story beforehand. While I’ll have a rudimentary mind map and the fundamentals for the plot in my head, I'll never actually write down my stories’ intricacies as a reference for the future. I’ll just sit down at my computer and… well, write. But, that’s me, and, obviously, I’m nothing of an author. My writing is for pleasure and personal use. Or of course for the amusement of online readers (you can laugh at it if you want. Go on...). David Cage’s Heavy Rain, on the other hand, is for a much larger audience, and, as such, for profit. Therefore, it is to be taken seriously, as a considered piece of work and, in some ways, a piece of art and modern literature. Upon finishing the game, I’m about to laugh at what I just wrote. Heavy Rain’s tacked-together and ill-contrived plotline has no right to be taken seriously. At all. And here’s why (only vague spoilers follow; there are no direct mentions to any events that occur in the game).

At the heart of Heavy Rain’s cliché story is a murder mystery. At its simplest, the game is a dark adaptation of Clue, and the premise is very much the same: uncover the true identity of a serial killer. And just like the Parker Brother’s board game, the murderer is not an unknown figure. As a matter of fact, you play as them for part of the experience. It’s in this predictable device where much of the story’s problems and gaps in logic are seen. To make it even worse, the story sets itself up for its horrendous pitfalls. You see, if you press the left shoulder button, you can hear each playable character's thoughts, and, depending on the situation they are placed in, their musings will change accordingly. Yes, even the killer has hearable thoughts. But, wouldn’t that spoil the surprise from the very first moments? No, not really, because the shady character, who is supposedly searching for leads on the murderer (who, of course, is themself), always references the killer as “the killer” and not them personally. So, in a way, the murderer’s thoughts are all in third-person. Why would anyone be so impersonal in their own mind, a place where secrets are safe to the beholder? And, in addition, why are you even able to listen to the any character’s thoughts in the first place?!? Such logic boggles the mind.

Unfortunately, the confusion doesn’t end there. Detectives are able to piece together absurd evidence, characters apparently have trusting relationships with people they’ve never met before, the police are able to show up to the sites of suspected murders with zero leads, parents of their murdered children don’t hand over glaring evidence to cops, the main character somehow wakes up with origami figures in his hand after blackouts (which would indicate that the killer somehow has a copy of his medical history and knows exactly when and where he collapses), and, as far as the feds are concerned, no suspicious act is suspicious enough for even a slight investigation. And I’ve only scratched the surface of the game’s stupidity.

But perhaps what maddened me most about Heavy Rain’s plotline was its potential. The environment, likeable characters and atmosphere all had me engrossed. Yes, a developed story would have suited HR’s setting wonderfully, but, instead, the gritty locale was handed a shoddy and quite embarrassing screenplay. The visible holes up until the ultimate reveal are forgivable, but the chapters that follow are not. The twist, although shocking, doesn’t make a lick of sense, and is almost humorous in its absurdity, coherence and plausibility. David Cage was way off on this one.

Some consider Heavy Rain a breakthrough in interactive storytelling, and such a claim is, in many ways, an insult to the hundreds of other well-written experiences. Sure, maybe they don’t feature the ending shocker that Heavy Rain has become so well known for, but they do showcase one characteristic that it will never have: sense.

And hell, I’d take sense over stupidity any day.