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Portal seemingly doesn’t even have a story.
After all, it’s a fairly short game, it doesn't give much direction, and it certainly doesn't provide overt backstory. You really have no context for what is happening — the game makes its own rules.
But Portal contains much more than simple puzzles and a funny-sounding artificial intelligence with a mean streak. It not only raises questions about great game design, story, and character, but it conjures up philosophy about who we are and what our roles are in life with respect to one another.
With the long-awaited sequel now weeks away, it’s a good time to reflect. How does Portal explore narrative, and what can other developers learn from Valve about how to tell a story? Here are a few ways….
No exposition
Exposition is one of the worst chores a writer must trudge through when telling a story. It’s extremely difficult to do well, mostly because it’s so obvious and tacky — it’s hard to hide, and even good writers suffer while trying. But Valve manages to side-step that by letting Portal’s level design and GLaDOS do the work for them.
When you first wake up, you find yourself in a test chamber. You get no instructions. You get no on-screen clues telling you which keys to use. All you can do is move around and play with the few objects in the room.
The only hint you see of any higher power is the name “Aperture Science” on a mug.
As you go forward through the level, you see empty chairs and desks, abandoned papers, and empty watch posts — whoever was here evacuated in a hurry.
The game doesn't flood players with information when they first start, and it provides them an opportunity to discover more about the world around them, which is what gaming should be about.
The most important aspects of the game, such as the name “Aperture Industries” and the actual gameplay mechanics, are explained in enough detail for the player to be comfortable. But everything else is only hinted at. The lack of exposition makes the player keep moving.
Subtext revealed through subtlety
Good stories require subtext – they need to be more than just an excuse to shoot people or create mayhem. Portal doesn't just use subtext to reveal the actual reason why the player is completing the test chambers — the game does so in a subtle way that rewards exploration.
You first realize there’s more to GLaDOS than expected because of some strange comments she makes:
The next test is currently unavailable. It has been replaced with a live-fire course designed for military androids. The Enrichment Center apologizes and wishes you the best of luck.
GLaDOS’s use of black humor puts you slightly on edge; you begin to feel your guide isn’t actually the comforting presence you thought it was.
In the later test stages the player sees broken panels, which allow passage into the areas behind each test chamber. Here you see writing scrawled on the walls: “the cake is a lie.”
Yes, this has become a silly Internet meme. But this line provides the most impact when it’s read in one of these secret chambers — it’s the first time you realize you’re not a voluntary test subject. You’re completely trapped, alone, and in danger.
The art design in these chambers provides some subtle tension: cans of beans strewn across the floor, crumbled pieces of paper, and markers counting the days. As the player slowly discovers these areas and listens to GLaDOS’s taunts, the truth becomes clear.
Because none of this is actually told to you outright, the sense of mystery and subsequent dread is that much higher. This is the same technique used in horror games: what you don’t see is scarier than what you do, and in Portal the lack of information you have about your surroundings provides the threat.
Dialogue
For all the things I pointed out before about Portal's subtle and sophisticated handling of exposition, the game is actually quite brazen about revealing new information through dialogue.
The primary example here is GLaDOS mentioning the “Aperture Science Bring Your Daughter to Work Day”, adding that this “is the perfect time to have her tested." At first this line is a throwaway joke, but it’s actually the only hint of both the player’s origin and what’s going on here: the testing of young females.
GLaDOS continues:
Unbelievable. You, *subject name here,* must be the pride of *subject hometown here.*
This shows us the protagonist isn’t the first test subject to come through here. The entire center is abandoned — what happened to them? Have they had their organs donated to the “Aperture Science Self-Esteem Fund For Girls”?
Once again, the dialogue presents most of the threat here, including the game's real purpose at the beginning of Act 3:
We are pleased that you made it through the final challenge where we pretended we were going to murder you. We are very very happy for your success.
We are throwing a party in honor of your tremendous success. Place the device on the ground, then lie on your stomach with your arms at your sides.
Most storytellers would say “show, don’t tell,” but you can show a lot through dialogue if you mask it with a rich character like GLaDOS. Valve’s secret here is that it doesn’t treat the player like an idiot.
The game leaves you on your own to decipher what all this means and create the backstory for yourself, and that’s always more interesting than if they simply told you outright.
It’s linear — and proud of it
Gamers complain about stories being too linear, but Portal is a great example of how you can make a linear game work if you drench it with rich character, dialogue, and level design.
Screenwriting guru Robert McKee once wrote that “the first step toward a well-told story is to create a small, knowable world.” Because Valve controls the Portal environment well and actually provides gamers with incentive to keep moving, they aren’t bored — other linear-game developers can learn something from this.
Part of the key aspect here is building atmosphere. By using rich dialogue, level design, and creating subtext, players don’t care at all that the story is linear; they instead want to actually see what happens next.
Portal understands pacing
As I’ve described elsewhere, pacing is critical to good narrative. It makes the gamer stay interested beyond hour four or five and provides incentive to go forward.
By keeping the player in the dark about GLaDOS’s sinister nature and by revealing tiny pieces of what actually happens to the “test subjects,” Valve creates a storytelling crescendo. Just like an orchestra conductor uses the pieces of his symphony to swell a rousing theme, Portal combines bits and pieces of exposition, dialogue, and subtext into a narrative that culminates in a face-to-face encounter with GLaDOS.
And by ensuring you only learn about what GLaDOS is actually like without direct interaction, you are at your most heightened sense when you finally face her. You haven’t had much time to process just how violent she is, so you’re thrust into a situation with very little control or understanding.
Gamers play through Portal multiple times because Valve structures the narrative well enough to reward them for reaching the end — a practice more developers should copy.