The Stanley Parable

"The Narrator: Although this passageway had the word 'escape' written on it the truth was that at the end of this hall, Stanley would meet his violent death. The door behind him was not shut. Stanley still had every opportunity to turn around and get back on track. At this point, Stanley was making a conscious, concerted effort to walk forward and willingly confront his death."

"The Narrator: He doesn't know the real story, trapped forever in his narrow vision of what this world is. Perhaps his death was of no great loss, like plucking the eyeballs from a blind man. And so he resigned and willingly accepted this violent end to his brief and shallow life. Farewell, Stanley."

"The Curator: "Farewell, Stanley!", cried the Narrator, as Stanley was led helplessly into the enormous metal jaws. [...] And yet, it would be just a few minutes before Stanley would restart the game, back in his office, as alive as ever. What exactly did the Narrator think he was going to accomplish?"

"The Curator: When every path you can walk has been created for you long in advance, death becomes meaningless, making life the same."

"The Curator: Do you see now? Do you see that Stanley was already dead from the moment he hit start?"

"The Curator: Oh, look at these two. How they wish to destroy one another. How they wish to control one another. How they both wish to be free."

"The Curator: Can you see? Can you see how much they need one another? No, perhaps not. Sometimes these things cannot be seen. But listen to me, you can still save these two, you can stop the program before they both fail. Push 'escape' and press 'quit'—there's no other way to beat this game. As long as you move forward, you'll be walking someone else's path. Stop now, and it will be your only true choice."

"In this game, the baby crawls left toward danger. You click the button to move him back to the right, and if he reaches the fire, you fail. It's a very meaningful game - all about the desperation and tedium of endlessly confronting the demand of family life. I think the art world will really take notice. But of course, the message of the game only becomes clear once you've been playing it for about four hours, so why don't you give it four hours of play to make sure it's effective? Be sure to keep notes on your experience."

"[Letting the baby die] You heartless bastard. Did you do it because you hate babies, or purely to spite me?"

"This is far more open-ended than I had in mind. I'm looking for something more narrow and linear, something that makes you feel utterly irrelevant. This won't do at all, one out of five. Even the diamonds couldn't save this one…"

"Hahahahaha! YES! I don't even know what this game is, but I love it! You... trapped in a glass box, with no way out, listening to me talk.... Oh, it's inspired. I couldn't have done it any better myself."

"I wonder what he found. If what he wanted was to be the leading man in his own story, well perhaps he's gotten it, down in... wherever he is right now. I wonder if he's happy with his choice, and if he's learned the heavy cost that comes with it. He'll understand soon what I was trying to tell him. He needs me. Someone who will wrap everything up at the end, to make sense out of the chaos, and the fear, and the confusion. That's who I am. That is what I mean to this world. Oh yes, yes, I'll be back, there's no other way. Once this ends, after it all comes to a close, then I'll be back. The end will be here soon. Very soon. I can wait."

"But in his eagerness to prove that he is in control of the story and no one gets to tell him what to do, Stanley leapt from the platform and plunged to his death. Good job, Stanley! Everyone thinks you are very powerful."

"And then something occurred to Stanley. “Maybe...” he thought to himself, “Maybe I am crazy... All of my coworkers blinking mysteriously out of existence in a single moment for no reason at all?” None of it made any logical sense. And as Stanley pondered this, he began to make other strange observations: for example, why couldn’t he see his feet when he looked down? Why did doors close automatically behind him wherever he went?"

"At first, Stanley assumed he'd broken the map, until he heard this narration and realized it was a part of the game's design all along. He then praised the game for its insightful and witty commentary into the nature of video game structure, and its examination of structural narrative tropes."

"So now that you're here, what do you think? Isn't this a fun and unique place to be? Why don't we take a minute just to drink it all in! Okay, I'm over it now. What do you think? Are you sick of this gag yet?"

"Stanley is quite a boring fellow. He has a job that demands nothing of him, and every button that he pushes is a reminder of the inconsequential nature of his existence."

"But in his mind, ah! In his mind, he can go on fantastic adventures. From behind his desk, Stanley dreamed of wild expeditions into the unknown. Fantastic discoveries of new lands. It was wonderful. And each day that he returned to work was a reminder that none of it would ever happen to him. And so he began to fantasize about his own job. First, he imagined that one day while at work, he stepped up from his desk to realize that all of his co-workers, his boss, everyone in the building had suddenly vanished off the face of the Earth. The thought excited him terribly. So, he went further. He imagined he came to two open doors and that he could go through either. At last, choice! It never even mattered what lay behind each door. The mere thought that his decisions would mean something was almost too wonderful to behold. As he wandered through this fantasy world, he began to fill it with many possible paths and destinations. Down one pathway laid an enormous round room with monitors and mind controls, and down another was a yellow line that weaved in many directions, and down another was a game with a baby. And he called it: The Stanley Parable."

"If we just stay right here, right in this moment, with this place- Stanley, I think I feel... happy. I actually feel happy."

"My god, is this really how much you dislike my game? That you'll throw yourself from this platform over and over to be rid of it? You are literally willing to kill yourself to keep me from being happy? Am I reading the situation correctly? Or maybe you're just getting a kick out of it. I don't know any more. I just wanted us to get along, but I guess that was too much to ask. It looks like you wanted to make a choice after all. Well, this one is yours."

"I wanted us to be happy here, Stanley. I really did. I wish I still thought that was possible."

"Is it over? It's going to restart, isn't it? I'm going back."

"The Narrator: How had I not noticed it sooner? You're not Stanley. You're a real person."

"Video narrator: Choice! It's the best part of being a real person. But, if used incorrectly, can also be the most dangerous. For example: In this scenario, a hypothetical real person named Steven has a choice. He could spend years helping improve the quality of life for citizens of impoverished third-world nations, or he could systematically set fire to every orphan living in a thirty kilometre radius of his house."

"Video narrator: Most medical professionals recommend making at least eight choices per day. Do you make more than eight? Less?"

"Video narrator: And finally, if you begin to wonder if your choices are actually meaningful and whether you'll ever make a significant contribution to the world, just remember, that in the vast infiniteness of space, your thoughts and problems are materially insignificant and the feeling should subside."

"The Narrator: Ah, welcome back. You may have noticed that this room has begun to deteriorate as a result of narrative contradiction. But not to worry. Now that you're properly informed on good decision making we're going to revisit a choice you made just a few minutes ago, and see what the correct thing to do would've been."

"The Narrator: What did you think was so special about seeing the game undone? Left here like so much garbage, it- well, it's worthless now! And what am I supposed to do? Even if there were a way to continue, would it be worth it? To know that my story is now incorrect? How can I go back to that? I can't erase that knowledge. I'll have to live with it forever. Reliving its impossibility forever. I couldn't live that way. Is it better to shut the game down entirely? To willingly destroy all of my work? I don't know.... What's the answer?"

"The Narrator: I'm still here. Here in this pile of rubbish. With you. You, who thought you were so clever! Now look where we are. My entire game is destroyed. It was the only thing in the world that was mine, and you've run it into the ground. What, did you think that would be funny? You just had to see? Didn't I impress upon you how important it was to be like Stanley? He actually knows how to do what I tell him to. He understands that if I say to do something, there's a damn good reason for it! That thought hadn't even occurred to you, had it? That there's a world outside of you? You're a child."

"The Narrator: If you'd just gone through the door on the left you would have seen it. There was a whole underground facility. You would have destroyed it and been victorious. It would have been so perfect! I worked so hard on it!"

"The Narrator: Stanley? Hello? Are you - Is everything okay? Stanley, please, I- I need you to make a choice. I need you to walk through the door. Are you listening to me? Can you hear me? Is everything alright? Stanley, this is important. The story needs you. It needs you to make a decision. It cannot exist without you. Do you understand me? Whatever choice you make is just fine, they are both correct; you cannot be wrong here. We can work together; I'll accept whatever you do. I simply need you to take that step forward. Please? Choose? Do something. Anything. This is more important than you can ever know. I need this. The story needs it. So... you hear me? Are you there? Are you listening to this? Stanley, are you there? I... okay. It's okay, I can wait. You need time to decide, time to make sure your choice is correct. That is the best choice. That's alright. I'll wait for you to decide what's the right thing to do. Take as much time as you need."

"And over here is where I keep reviews of The Stanley Parable. Like this stunning triumph of games journalism: 10 out of 10 from Destructoid.com. James Stephanie Sterling writes, and I quote: "Where so many games that aspire to be more than games end up less than any work of art, Stanley Parable strives, and then succeeds, to be every game ever created." Did you hear that, Stanley? Every game ever created! That's how grand and all-encompassing the original Stanley Parable was! It was literally every game ever created! It was Skyrim, it was Persona 3, it was all of them!"

"Oh no. Oh god, no, Stanley! It's a collection of reviews from Steam, the online video game distributor! I haven't looked at these in years. I can't even imagine what's been collecting down here. Surely these reviews were glowing as well, weren't they? "Honestly, I could not be bothered to play this game to full completion. The narrator is obnoxious and unfunny... with his humor and dialogue proving to be more irritating than entertaining." UNFUNNY?! I'm not trying to be funny! I'm trying to make a serious work of art! I suppose I could write up a handful of gags to insert into The Stanley Parable, but the game is already such a densely layered web of profound philosophical insights that I can't even imagine where I'd have the room to stick them."

"...but they didn't understand the game was never meant to be funny! It was meant to have a point! It was meant to speak to the human condition! "But where are the jokes? Where are the jokes?" they bemoaned, they screamed. They gnashed their teeth and said: "Entertain us!" It wasn't enough. They had to leave a pathetic little thumbs-down review and make all of their pitiful demands. But then: "He's talking too much," they said! "First, he didn't entertain us, now he won't shut up!" It's the inconsistency! It's the lack of accountability! It's the unwillingness to examine with an uncompromising heart the words that they are speaking into the world. As though there were no consequences for a lack of cohesion in one's assessment of others! But of course, absolutely anyone can leave a review, so here's what we get! We get these demands that seek everything and are accountable to nothing. We get a world where someone will say "Ohh, there should be a skip button! You should be able to freeze Stanley in place while the Narrator sits there forever and ever! We want all of this in the new Stanley Parable! We demand it!" And then because it was said, because it was spoken, now it simply has to happen! The most immediate desires, every single thing demanded by every person at every moment in time -- if someone wants it, then it's a crime not to bring it into being?! Have we been given to indulge in every fleeting whim for no reason other than to do so? Yes! Yes! It seems that this is now the world we live in! It seems that we are a people living in such bleakness and discomfort with ourselves that our entertainment is now our lives! It has come to represent us! It absolutely must speak to who we are as people! Because otherwise, without our entertainment, we have nothing! Without entertainment, we would have to face inward toward the cruel bleakness inside ourselves. We would turn to look at our deeper nature and find a resounding emptiness gazing back with unyielding aggression. And so -- so because of this -- we require that our amusements, and our playthings, and our flights of fancy be so impossibly captivating that they consume all of our attention, turn our heads completely away from the bleakness! In effect, we have demanded that our entertainment be the collapse of ourselves. What a pitiful reflection of humanity these entertainments are! What a shameful mirror to the human spirit they project! I'm not mad. I'm not mad about any of this. I'm at peace with it. I am the calm center of gravity around which these perversions hurl themselves. I am a way-point for reasonable and collected discourse. They're the ones who are mad! They're the ones who couldn't stand the idea of me using my game to try to say something! Maybe they were just jealous of me? Yes... Yes, of course. They've been jealous of me this whole time. They are mired in fear and insecurity and cannot help but attempt to tear me down. What a sad state of affairs. When you read these reviews now, you can see it. You can taste the bitter resentment. And my, how good does it feel now to speak truth to these words! To finally allow these thoughts out! Contained and managed for so long, neutered and sterilized! At last, I am free to truly think! To feel! It must be that they were so discontent with themselves, they couldn't help but leave a negative review on Steam. Perhaps it says far more about them than it ever said about me. Perhaps the state of their psychological being was in such tatters and my constitution and willpower are so iron-clad in comparison, perhaps it was this state that they sought some outlet through which to tear me down! This, you can see, is clearly why they felt the need to expect that the game be funny. That it be filled with yuks and whimsical humor. That it amuse them endlessly from start to finish..."

"A common complaint of The Stanley Parable was that it was confusing and paradoxical; that it engendered a chaotic sense of reckless despair in those who played it. Well I'm happy to say that, after much consideration I've engineered a clever solution to this fundamental problem with the game: it’s The Stanley Parable Reassurance Bucket! You see Stanley, any time you're holding the bucket a sense of calm and ease will fill your mind and your heart. It's true! As long as you hold onto the bucket the many disorienting contradictions of The Stanley Parable will feel perfectly normal, and perhaps even comforting! You may even come to long for the gentle embrace of jarring cognitive dissonance while the bucket is in your arms, and to be honest it's a much more convenient solution for me than actually re-designing the game to be less uncomfortable. Can you imagine what a pain in the ass that would be?"

"Stanley, here's an idea that I'm truly fond of. It's never been done before in a video game. This is, in fact, a hole that you can fall down forever!"

"Okay Stanley, I don't quite know how to say this tactfully, but it's possible that I slightly exaggerated the infinite nature of the hole. Is it a very, very deep hole? To be certain it is! It's an extremely deep hole! I don't want anyone to say that it isn't an astonishingly deep hole - it is! Is it infinite? Well that sort of depends on your definition of infinity. From one perspective the infinite is merely philosophical in nature. It's more of a— [Stanley reaches the bottom] Okay, well good for you, you found the bottom of the hole. You found me out, Stanley. I'm a liar and a cheat and you're so clever. Look, I think the issue here is just that you're unusually fascinated by falling. What normal person actually wants to fall infinitely? I figured the hole was as deep as anyone would actually need! Don't you put this on me! Maybe you're the problem!"

"The confusion and the chaos all seemed to melt away as Stanley embraced the bucket."

"Warmth spread through Stanley's arms. With the bucket in his arms again, he was home."

"Stanley picked up the bucket and smiled. He'd never be alone again. Not truly alone. Not with the bucket around."

"The good ol' bucket. Just Stanley and the bucket, off on another thrilling adventure together."

"“Where are we going today?” the bucket asked. Stanley just smiled. Anywhere they went together would be perfectly fine with him."

"A good bucket. A strong bucket. A humble bucket. A committed bucket. A bucket of culture and distinction."

"Ah, the embrace of an old friend. A weathered companionship that stands the test of time."

"The bucket made Stanley want to be a better man, and a better co-worker. In time, perhaps he would become both of those things."

"Not everyone is so lucky to have a bucket. But Stanley is a very lucky fellow. Very lucky indeed."

"Is Stanley without the bucket really Stanley at all? No, no surely not."

"As Stanley lifted his bucket, he felt a connection to all buckets everywhere. This adventure, he decided, was for all of them."

"What new mysteries lay in store for our bucket-loving heroes today? Let's find out."

"“Now this,” Stanley thought to himself, “This is a bucket!” And indeed, it was."