An Instrument...of Chaos?
Pax: An Instrument is a story that details the thoughts and ideas (both consciously and subconsciously) of various individuals facing incidents of terror and revelation. Characters shared detailed events (e.g. being gassed and searching for assistance) or chose to repeat axioms that could easily be found in a cynic’s fortune cookie stash. Along with that written text, the other portion of the page hosted visual images of naked people and a display of words that constantly changed. Characters paraded the screen on a semi-consistent level; those that were clicked on appeared more often than those who were not engaged, or “played.”
The text and images of the project had both its pro and cons. One could view the text, but the images were integral in the reading experience because that was how the viewer obtained more content to read. I think the image of naked bodies was a visual technique for the author to further emphasize a theme of “stripping down to the barest essentials.” The story no longer is about the characters’ personal events, but is about the concepts that lace all of them together: horror, truth and fundamentally space and time. Your mind is constantly processing information (analyzing who one person is, what s/he has to say, if and when they’ll come back, why one word morphs into another); this can either be seen as a way to keep things interesting, or can ultimately frustrate a viewer. If one’s “tolerance for chaos” were low, Pax would perhaps not be enjoyable to read/view. There would be no way of skipping to the end of this piece, as the end seems infinite. I myself enjoyed the work more for the experience rather than the actual content. It mirrored a give-and-take relationship; to get a little, you have to indulge the project a bit. That kind of participation, I believe, is unique to hypertext fiction.
Pax: An Instrument is like any other instrument in that it one can “play” it, or use it to a varying degree to suit their liking. It certainly reflects Stuart Moulthrop’s ideas about hypertext, gaming and life. Hypertext, unlike literary print, has a very nonlinear approach to storytelling. It is improvisational and relies on a reader’s interaction with the text, just in the way a player would interact with a game. Hypertext fiction and gaming parallel each other; both cannot reach its full potential without the viewer/player engaging in it.
The text and images of the project had both its pro and cons. One could view the text, but the images were integral in the reading experience because that was how the viewer obtained more content to read. I think the image of naked bodies was a visual technique for the author to further emphasize a theme of “stripping down to the barest essentials.” The story no longer is about the characters’ personal events, but is about the concepts that lace all of them together: horror, truth and fundamentally space and time. Your mind is constantly processing information (analyzing who one person is, what s/he has to say, if and when they’ll come back, why one word morphs into another); this can either be seen as a way to keep things interesting, or can ultimately frustrate a viewer. If one’s “tolerance for chaos” were low, Pax would perhaps not be enjoyable to read/view. There would be no way of skipping to the end of this piece, as the end seems infinite. I myself enjoyed the work more for the experience rather than the actual content. It mirrored a give-and-take relationship; to get a little, you have to indulge the project a bit. That kind of participation, I believe, is unique to hypertext fiction.
Pax: An Instrument is like any other instrument in that it one can “play” it, or use it to a varying degree to suit their liking. It certainly reflects Stuart Moulthrop’s ideas about hypertext, gaming and life. Hypertext, unlike literary print, has a very nonlinear approach to storytelling. It is improvisational and relies on a reader’s interaction with the text, just in the way a player would interact with a game. Hypertext fiction and gaming parallel each other; both cannot reach its full potential without the viewer/player engaging in it.
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