We proceed in life yielding to the notion that we, and are actions, are governed: be it by government, by divine decree, or even by self-imposed goals or ambitions and limitations. The presence of governmant may not be direct; manifesting itself in the form of cctv on street corners, data mining - records kept of our browsing habits, purchases, texts, calls, and wages. Divine proclamations that oultline the narrow path that a follower should adhere to, in order to attain a celestial reward. To become successful, wealthy, leave an impact or mark on the world to show we exist, and in doing so justify our existence to ourselves.
With Foucault, it is understood that power exists outside ourselves, and this outside power, whether directly seen or not, is essential to the survival of a society. Just the idea that we can be seen, our actions annotated, by "Big Brother" ensures that a populace's citizens will do right. Without this outside power, this lighthouse whose gaze is all-seeing and all knowing, there can be no semblance of civilazation and all will fall into anarchy.
In The Stanley Parable, much like other video games, the gamer embodies the "hero" of the game, whose path, or journey, is already preordained (though there are other, meandering paths, which the result is usually at best a dead end, or worse, death with the only option is to respawn and/or load the last save). Either through an instruction manual or a tutorial, we are given the parameters of how to move and interact within this virtual world. And the narrator of this story, through text boxes, voiceover, or a non-player character, with give the backstory and motive for the avatar the gamer has control of - but the gamer is also being controlled. The gamer embodies the proverbial rat in the maze, who through trial and error, seeks to find the exit, goat, destination, etc. Some mice will remain inert, at the beginning or at other stages of the maze, and can either languish there or recieve some sort or prompt: in a game it could be in the form of character tapping its foot in impatience, a voiceover telling the gamer to continue, ultimately the game will pause until the player is ready to adhere to the games rules of play - that is, to go on, throught the twist and turns and the dead ends and revelations until the reward at the end.
We see this in every aspect of our lives. We come to a red light, we step on the brake and stop. It is what is expected of us, it is the law. We know the consequences if we run that light. There might not be any of authority currently at the stoplight, no flashing of lights if we were to ignore that scarlet command. So, some will choose to go through anyway, and deal with the repercussions if any should arise. Now, if a camera is placed at the stoplight, and its presence known through warning signs: would that enforce a more general obediance? Do we know if that camera is actually recording? Is there anyone on the other end, to alert superiors to a witnessed infraction on their screen. Or is it just a visual deterrant, like the lighthouse of a panotican - the mere thought of a power, omnipotent or impotent, present or absent - is a pall over in the back of our mind, and so we act accordingly?
The Stanley Parable message is to show us humans that, even while we yearn for free will, we cherish it, demand it even, there is no such thing. Much like the limitations in a game: reaching that invisible wall at the edge of a map, the number of choices a given situation allows, the responses an npc can generated; limitation exist in our life. We can't just do whatever we want, unless that individual were to isolated himself on an island and have no other interactions with another soul. Living in a society, with its laws and regulations, we have to adhere to the morals and legalities that are adherant to the society. For many, that structure is integral. To suddenly wake up one day, with all that structure and its denizens gone, they would crack. It is like the air pressure that constantly surrounds us, we don't feel it because we have grown accustomed to it. But in its absence, in the vacuum, is when many explode.
Coversely, when there is to much pressure, as exist many leagues under the sea - then we notice it, we feel it continuously, until too much makes us implode. A life of to much limitations makes for questioning - in a game we ask "why can't I go over those mountains?", "why can't kill this npc?". The limitatoins in the game mimic the ones in life. Art imitates life, life imitates art. We may want to explore, to travel outside our state, or country; but limitations could exist (finances, border crossing restrictions, a job and/or family to care of - many can't just up in leave, to go against the narrative of life).
This Stanley Parable is much like the choose-your-own-adventure books I used to read as a child. The "Zork" series come first to mind. I read the passages, and at critical plot points I would be given several choices, or paths, to continue on: choose this path, go to page so and so, take that action go to that page. A path could result in a dead end, at which you go back and explore the other options until you are "back on track", or, alternately, just end the story there. The story in the book is really linear. There is the one, "true" ending, or true goal that you pursue. The other endings are less satisfying, based on the readers perspective and viewpoint. In the case of the Zork books, the narrative is the lighthouse, watching as the reader runs through the passages. The reader knows the power that is in the narrative, but still may wonder why doesn't the character do this instead, or that? At that moment, the reader embodies the character on the page, and experiences that choices that character makes, for good or ill depending on how the story ends. But the end is just that - the end. It is the paths that the character takes, the reasons he takes them, and how his actions influence other characters that should be examined. We know of our mortality, no matter which way we step it is still a step in the direction of our inevitable death. What matters is how we step.
