PSVR Worlds: Scavenger’s Odyssey

The first thing you notice in Scavenger’s Odyssey is that you have a body. You notice this immediately because when the game starts you are looking at your hands, except they’re not “your” hands because they’re blue and only have three fingers and a thumb. You’re in someone else’s body and that feels like a huge revelation. Video games nearly always put us in control of another body but in VR the implications of occupying another form are immediately apparent.

One of the first VR experiences I ever tried was ABE VR, a short horror experience in which you are kidnapped and tortured by a psychotic robot surgeon. The first thing I noticed in that experience is that I was in a woman’s body. The gender (or in the case of Scavenger’s Odyssey the species) of the body isn’t important but what’s interesting is that in these experiences I was faced with the fact that the body I saw when I looked down was not my own. There is something jarring and also fascinating about these moments of realisation. They raise all kinds of questions, like “Who am I?”, “How did I get here?”, “Did I choose to be here or not?” and so on, questions that we should be asking as we start any interactive experience but we don’t because usually the cut scenes tell us what we need to know and that’s enough. There are cut scenes or narrative elements in VR too, but when you are looking down at the body you are inhabiting and asking those questions of yourself there’s a level of connection and engagement that traditional games simply don’t encourage.

Scavenger’s Odyssey adds another level to this sense of being someone else by connecting your head to the body. If you look down you see the torso the arms are connected to and if you lean forward as you look down the alien torso moves forward as well. For comparison, if you look down in Ocean Descent you see the base of the cage but you don’t see your own legs and that lack of a body does take you out of the experience slightly. The knowledge of your own physical form is particularly important in this experience because Scavenger’s Odyssey is all about connection.

As with Ocean Descent this VR experience uses an audio Guide to explain what is happening. In fact, the Guide here is very similar to the one in Ocean Descent – female, American, clearly your superior in this scenario. The first thing she does is connect you to the machine that you find yourself sitting in, which it transpires is a robotic, spider-like vehicle. There are now two levels of connection to another body, first you inside the alien body then the alien inside the machine, which now acts as the body. When you move the sticks on the controller both the alien hands and the scavenger vehicle move; the three separate bodies (player, alien and robot) move as one.

The story concerns a scavenger mission in an asteroid belt in which you are tasked with retrieving an important artefact from the wreckage of an abandoned starship. This involves navigating the wreckage by leaping from surface to surface, often changing direction in mid-air in truly motion-sickness-inducing manoeuvres. Along the way you have to blast alien insect creatures of varying size. None of this is all that interesting except for the motion sickness, which I feel is worth talking about.

Having clocked a handful of VR hours by this point without experiencing any kind of motion sickness I was optimistic in thinking it didn’t affect me. I’d even played Scavenger’s Odyssey briefly before without experiencing any adverse effects. However, on a full playthrough I definitely felt it and a brief search reveals I am not alone.

Motion sickness is thought to be caused when the brain senses two conflicting types of movement. For example, if you are below deck on a boat you appear visually to be static but your body is sensing the up and down movement of the boat on the water and this sensory conflict causes nausea (more comprehensive and accurate explanations of motion sickness are available online). In VR your brain is tricked into thinking it is moving when it is actually still, so naturally motion sickness can occur. This can be really off-putting in a game where you’re supposedly walking around when you’re actually standing still in your living room. However, in Scavenger’s Odyssey it’s not exactly that the VR body is moving and your real life body is static, it’s that your alien body is static and the robot body is moving. This is closer to being on a boat and feeling sea sick than just general VR motion sickness and therefore feels totally appropriate. This physical sensation of feeling sick adds to the immersion because the character you are inhabiting would no doubt feel the same thing.

This brings us back to levels of connection and there is another layer to this that is worth exploring. As mentioned above the game uses a Guide as with Ocean Descent. There is also a Tether, partly through communication again but we are also tethered to the Guide in that she controls the systems in the scavenger robot vehicle. From the little background information provided it is apparent that your species is treated as an underclass in this world and you are forced to go on these dangerous scavenger missions because you are presumably expendable. However, there is another voice. At key moments in the game a second Guide cuts communication with the first and then gives you a vision of the artefact you seek. This second Guide, also female but with a British accent, presumably for contrast, provides a back story about how your race is somehow connected to the beginning of all life in the universe, or something equally 2001. The second Guide establishes a new Tether, which the first then attempts to cut as the game progresses. This use of two Guides in conflict comes up a few times in VR and is a key part of the other major PSVR Worlds experience, The London Heist.

In comparison to the other PSVR Worlds experiences, Scavenger’s Odyssey gives you a huge amount of control with the ability to run, jump, shoot and move objects in the environment. However, in terms of the story the level of control is actually very limited and while I suspect the reasons for this were due to software limitations the consequence is that you feel entirely secondary to the narrative. The scavenger character is unable to truly influence the narrative and becomes almost like a pinball being bounced around a machine by two flippers, which both ultimately have the same goal. The narrative places the Guides in opposition, one instructing you to retrieve the artefact and the other urging you to protect it. In reality there is no decision to be made here and no autonomy. For example, at one point you are attacked by a giant space worm. The first Guide tells you to destroy it because it stands between you and the artefact. The second Guide at first defends the creature and tells you it is only trying to protect its young. Then she tells you that you have to protect the artefact from the creature. Whichever side you’re on you have to kill the space worm to progress and as a result any sense of agency in this world is taken away. Once again VR makes the player a captive spectator, this time with an illusion of control but ultimately unable to truly affect anything in the game world.

I recently completed Red Dead Redemption 2, and it could be argued that despite the open world and endless opportunities for procrastination in that world you are still bound to a set path. It could be argued that all games have a set narrative path of varying degrees. However, like noticing you are not in your own body there is something about being presented with a set path in VR that seems more stark. The worlds we explore in VR feel more real so our inability to change them feels even more hopeless.

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When I was younger I wanted to try Virtual Reality more than anything else. I’ve always enjoyed games for the escapism they offer; the opportunity to live as someone else in what is generally a much more exciting world than the one I’m in and to do so without risk of serious harm. VR offered the possibility of taking that to the next level.

I don’t consider myself a ‘gamer’ exactly. I love games and have spent many many hours exploring different worlds on different platforms, but it’s not the ‘game’ part that appeals to me. I’m not that interested in the mass slaughter of NPCs, winning epic races or battling space aliens. I’ve always preferred the quiet moments, like driving a truck through the countryside between cities on GTA: San Andreas or exploring the surface of a barren planet on the first Mass Effect game. I like the character moments too, when they work. Games can provide such a strong sense of empathy or connection between audience and character, even the poorly written ones. Most of all I like stories. I like being taken on a narrative journey. I will never skip a cutscene to get to the action.​

I’ll write more about my relationship with VR in a later post but for now just know that from the moment I first tried on the headset I realised there was so much more going on than I first anticipated. Sure, on a basic level virtual reality is simply putting a screen really close to your face and tricking your brain into perceiving depth, but when you add in the scope of the 360 degree view, the sounds, the way you interact with the experience, the memories it generates, the physical effects it can have, not to mention the way it allows you to connect to a narrative, it becomes clear there is so much to talk about. Of course, people do talk about it on review sites and subreddits and YouTube videos but what I find lacking is anything other than vague descriptions of how these experiences feel.​

There’s a reason I think this is important. I recently visited Whitechapel Gallery with my wife and a couple of friends. It had been some time since I’d been to a gallery and I’d kind of forgotten how to do it. You have to commit to art in a gallery. You have to look at it and clear our everything else until you feel something. What you feel will be different from what someone else feels, there’s no “right” way to feel despite the artist’s intention and that’s what makes art special. What you feel may not be positive but as long as you feel something the art has done it’s job. All art has the capacity to make you feel something, you just have to commit to it.

Video games demand commitment by their very nature. You can’t check your phone while running from the law in Red Dead Redemption 2, not without pausing and breaking the flow. Putting aside online gaming, games are also primarily solitary experiences. They may play for an audience, that’s why Twitch happened, but ultimately the game is there to connect with the person holding the controller. VR games take this even further, making the experience even more solitary and making it even harder to look away. Like it or not, when you play VR you are committed to the art. What that art has to reveal is what I intend to explore in this blog.

This is not a review site, I have no interest in whether VR experiences are “good” or “bad”. Nor is this an academic study, although I am interested in academic readings of VR and may explore this area further in the future. Imagine instead that this is an old-fashioned adventurer’s journal with scribbled notes and diagrams on frayed pages between a worn cover.

This is an account of my adventures in VR and you are more than welcome to join me.