I think there’s much to be said about place and narrative in Problem Attic. Today we talked a bit about the game’s title being play on “problematic,” but I think we should consider the title as a proper noun too: as in “the Problem Attic.” Many people use attics to store things they don’t need anymore: there, you see boxes containing a variety of things, each potentially holding a valuable memory for its owner. Attics are useful because they keep things that aren’t immediately relevant to us away from sight and mind, and as in Braid, usually form just a small part of a home; they are a minor space that is tucked quietly into the corner of everyday life.
However, this is not at all the case in Ryerson’s Problem Attic. The game’s starting room uniquely resembles an attic, with different-colored enclosements representing your typical “boxes” in the attic and the objects inside of them (bizarrely patterned black squares) representing artifacts of the past. This is a room the player returns to after completing each level (“box”) in the game. In other words, for the entirety of the game the player is trapped within the Problem Attic; there is no escape to a calm kitchen or outside porch as there is in a regular house.
As a player, one is both physically trapped in the space of the attic and mentally confined to the “memories” inside it: the bizarre items within each of the enclosements. These “items” are not your typical nostalgic family mementos: they are unrecognizable insignia-like squares that lead to worlds/memories that are exponentially more bizarre. Each level, or memory, contains a distinct set of abstract backgrounds/foregrounds, eerie music, frustrating puzzles, and other game features such as boldly imposing text, all of which come together to create a generally frustrating and potentially headache-inducing game experience.
In this way, Problem Attic portrays the concept of space as a toxic one. Space you cannot escape; space you do not understand. This toxicity is exacerbated by the overall difficulty of the game: because many of the levels, many of the “boxes” within the attic, are not easily solvable, the player is forced to restart levels multiple times. In doing so, one is constantly reminded of the jarring features in each level, such as one in which “GO FUCK YOURSELF” is engraved in the background.
Suffocation is an apt term for what it feels like to play the game. And this affective place, the Problem Attic, serves as a medium for conveying the unsettling, headache-magnifying feeling of--? Just feeling. Problem Attic teaches us in reverse order an idea conveyed in Braid, with far more implications than what I’ve written: “every place stirs up an emotion, and every emotion invokes a memory: a time and location.”
As with the majority of students in class, problem attic led me through extremely frustrating and time consuming challenges with each of the rooms, creating a feeling that Cambric aptly called suffocating (at least in the since that it was confusing and seemed to continue tormenting me with its difficulty). However, I think the conversation has overlooked how Problem Attic achieves a sense of catharsis/enjoyment, although this might harken back to the completionist in me.
Although Problem Attic bombards the player with concepts like toxicity, pain, and confusion, there was always something bordering on joy/pride when I managed to pass a new room and figure out the "gimmick" of sorts. Especially because the game does a good job of building…
I agree that we should also consider how the specific location of an attic relates to the meanings of Braid and Problem Attic. During the discussion session on Friday, I had a similar conversation with another classmate. We likened the hub-world of the house to the persona that an individual utilizes in society. The different rooms are all carefully decorated according to what the individual wants to be perceived as; with everything that conflicts hidden "out of sight" from everyone else. However, I would argue that this also supports the idea that Braid portrays the attic space as "toxic," as it is the space where Tim represses his shameful memories of being villainous.
It seems like I'm in agreement with most people when I say Problem Attic was incredibly frustrating and difficult to deal with, both visually and in gameplay. The stage designs are blocked with lurid, sometimes flashing colors, a departure from the storybook aesthetics of Braid. Rather than the free and open backgrounds in Braid (at least for the beginning stages), we are treated to a constant feeling of being trapped and sequestered away.
I especially liked your reading into the space of the attic as a place to store memories or other small things out of sight and out of mind. In addition to that, if we were to think of a house in relation to a person's anatomy, it would…