How far away is the player?
No, we’re not talking about lag times! I want to talk about the distance between the protagonist — the player character — and the player.
There’s always a distance. It’s inevitable. The closest I’ve come to a situation where the player feels they are fully embodying a character is in larp, and even then it takes a fair amount of suspension of disbelief. But when it comes to video games, how close is the player to the protagonist?
In Moss, you’re probably not the protagonist. Quill is the protagonist, and you’re an invisible helper — one Quill can sometimes sense. As Quill’s partner, you guide her through the world. But you do get to decide where she walks, when she attacks, and… wait, are you Quill and also Quill’s helper? What is that relationship, exactly?
In Monkey Island, are you Guybrush Threepwood, or are you an invisible helper guiding him through the story? You don’t control him directly, but you do decide where he goes and which lines he says (though you don’t actually write them). And sometimes he speaks directly to you — usually to make a joke or refuse to do something. So are you him? Or are you just helping him?
In The Witcher, are you Geralt, or are you possessing Geralt? You instinctively instruct him to cut/slash/duck/roll without a second thought. Geralt seems completely unaware of your presence, unlike in Moss or Monkey Island.
In Cyberpunk 2077, are you V, or are you a passenger inside V’s head?
And here’s another thought — in each of these examples, what was the designer’s intent? And, really, does any of it matter?
As with all these questions, the answer is: it depends. It varies from player to player and game to game. But it’s worth considering what you, as a designer, are aiming for in this dynamic. That will influence decisions ranging from UI design to control systems.
Viewpoints
In books, first-person narrative is written using “I,” as in “I stepped into the room” or “I kissed the goblin.” You’re inside the protagonist’s head, looking out through their eyes, feeling with their fingers — you are the protagonist. And yet, you have no control over them.
In films, extended first-person narrative is extremely rare. You’ll see brief first-person shots to clarify what a character sees, but long sequences are almost always a gimmick (e.g., mimicking a video game like Doom).
In games, first-person viewpoint is much more common. As a player, you look straight out of the character’s eyes. It’s unusual not to have tight, immediate control over them. So, in a way, you have more control than you would in a book, yet still not complete control.
Second-person narrative is rare in books — think “You walked into the room.” It’s most common in gamebooks (e.g., “Turn to page 50!”-style books). I can’t think of any film examples. But in games, you often see it in text adventures: “You wake up. You are in a room.” Second-person feels more like a storytelling mode, where someone sets a scene for you to act within. It’s most common in tabletop role-playing games, where the GM narrates in the second person to the players.
Third-person narrative is common in books (“He walked into the room”), but it has variations. Third-person limited keeps you tightly tied to a protagonist — you see what they see, feel their reactions, and are surprised when they’re surprised. It’s like a camera hovering over their shoulder. Broader third-person storytelling might not centre on any one character, while an omniscient narrator could reveal things the protagonist doesn’t know.
Films often use third-person limited — hovering near a protagonist (or a few) so you empathise with them and react alongside them. Some films, however, step back into a more distant or omniscient perspective.
In games, third-person camera viewpoint is common. But whether the storytelling is technically third-person depends. Is Monkey Island third-person (“Guybrush goes into the tavern”) or second-person (“You go into the tavern”) or first (“I go into the tavern”)? What about Geralt?
Sense of self
To complicate things further, humans are incredibly good at “throwing” their sense of self. It’s a real psychological effect.
Usually, your sense of “you” is tied to your body, from head to fingertips. But in certain contexts, it shifts. At the dentist, you might feel like a mind sitting inside your head, retreating from your body. Or when driving, your sense of “you” might extend to your car — “He hit me” is more common than “He hit my car.”
When on the phone having a long conversation with someone, your ‘local’ sense of self might fade away, and you might feel embodied in a netherworld of being closer to that person.
When watching others, you might empathise so deeply that you feel their emotions or even flinch when they get hit. And in a video game, with direct control over a character, your impulses translate instantly into their actions. For some players, this means they feel embodied in the character, no matter the camera perspective.
Why does this matter?
Thinking about these dynamics early in development helps you make decisions that solidify how the player connects to the protagonist. Games that ignore this can feel jarring, leading to moments where the protagonist acts against the player’s wishes, or where the player’s understanding of what’s going on is at odds with the protagonist.
In VR, whether you like it or not the player is embodied in the world, which arguably is not true in most other mediums (save larp). So who are they and what’s their role, if you’re having them control a character in third-person?
Ultimately, what are you aiming for as a designer?
If you want the player to be the character, that suggests a direct control system. Keep the camera close or behind their eyes, allow granular decision-making, and align the player’s understanding with the character’s perspective.
If you want the player to help the character, you might design less direct controls. Let the player see things the character can’t — or vice versa. Maybe the character knows more about the world than the player does.
There are no hard and fast rules. But I’d suggest thinking about it, and making it clear in the design.