In the age of ubiquitous social media, the idea of designing around anonymity - or specifically designing for interactions with “familiar strangers” - appeals to me a lot. I agree with the sentiment expressed in the chapter that because modern social media platforms like Facebook (and now Instagram) are so heavily associated with the individual that interactions are often reduced to superficial showing off or “flexing”. Indeed, when we know our reputation or personal achievements are even slightly at stake, we feel pressured to perform at a high level, thus increasing inhibition in that sense. However, in the case of Magic Piano or Leaf Trombone: World Stage, motivation to perform at a high level comes from an intrinsic desire to create music rather than some external social pressure to add respect to your name; this very anonymous nature of interaction, I argue, is what makes the social aspect of the two apps successful.
Having established this idea, perhaps no product better embodies it than the video game Journey, which I would describe as a short-form, interactive musical narrative. To provide context, essentially, the game centers around controlling a mysterious red-hooded figure as he/she/they soar through desert hills and ancient ruins, towards a mysterious light at the top of the mountain. The game mechanics are deliberately simple and involve the sole task of the player pressing the space button to emit an audible chime and resonate with nearby objects. Furthermore, no explicit narrative or score-based objective is presented to the user; rather, it is entirely up to them to make up a story for their red-hooded figure: who are they? where did they come from? and why are they chasing the light on the top of the mountain?
The social interaction emerges midway into the game when - upon the player figuring out all the basic game mechanics for themselves - another red-hooded figure controlled by a remote player (over WIFI) appears. Similarly, the second figure appears without any name (gamertag), visual cue, or narrative provided, but because the only mechanic is emitting the chime, the original player should quickly realize that interacting with the second player involves nothing more than intuitively synchronizing chimes and resonating together. By doing so, the two players simultaneously energize each other, allowing them both to soar to greater heights in the game.
Personally for me, experiencing the multiplayer aspect for the first time did not make me feel self-conscious or pressured to synchronize chimes with the other player at all. There was a liberating beauty I’ve never experienced before in the stress-free interaction that came with the anonymity. Beyond the game mechanic of synchronizing chimese and energizing each other, it was also fun to simply just chime repeatedly or perhaps with musical rhythms, making music with the second player as an end in itself (no ulterior game motive for doing so); and above all else, amidst the lonely desert ruins, it was comforting to hear another player’s chimes.
Perhaps the most touching experience came when I accidentally slipped and fell off the platform in the game. However, instead of leaving me behind as one might expect from a stranger in a game, the second player stood still and waited for me, offering what I interpreted as an encouraging sequence of chimes. This goes to show that interacting with “familiar strangers” in game not only opens possibilities for stress free and unique experiences, but furthermore, some of the most genuine and personal moments can emerge from this seemingly non-intimate setting.