What stood out to me most about Photopia is how its approach to building an emotional connection with the character differs from other narrative-focused games I’ve played, which often rely on direct role-playing. In Photopia, the player views Alley through the perspectives of those around her or the stories she created. Not even once do we, as players, get to step into her shoes. This shift makes Alley feel like a central yet unreachable figure. If we think of the plot as a jigsaw puzzle, Alley is the missing central piece. The more vivid and complete the surrounding pieces, the more we’re drawn to her absence. Her abrupt disappearance in the final scene feels profoundly heartbreaking, leaving behind an emotional weight similar to a jigsaw puzzle with a missing central piece we could never reclaim.

The dramatic twist, when players realize that Alley is killed by the very car they control at the start of the story, also creates a sharp emotional connection. This twist is particularly impactful because of Photopia’s non-linear storytelling. By first presenting Alley through her imagination and the perspectives of others, the game fosters a deep emotional investment in her as a person rather than as a victim. Her creativity, especially through surreal, colorful sequences, makes her loss feel not only personal but also like the loss of untold stories she still had to share. The syuzhet here is highly effective in building suspense and sympathy, setting us up to connect with Alley through positive experiences before her tragedy.

Photopia also employs a "fatalistic interactivity" approach. It gives players the illusion of influence, only to reject their input—not to alter the story but to deepen their emotional engagement. There is nothing more desperate than attempting to change a fate you feel responsible for. The interactive nature of Photopia “empowers” the player with the illusion of choice, only to deny it. This design choice amplifies the sense of guilt and responsibility. It’s the player’s—or their friend’s—car that causes the tragedy. Once the full picture of the accident becomes clear, the player naturally wants to fix the mistake, adding emotional weight to the story’s outcome.

This "fatalistic interactivity" or illusion of choice is highly effective because it contrasts the freedom of the medium with the unchangeable fate of the characters, creating an experience that wouldn't have the same impact in a non-interactive form. The interplay of player agency and narrative inevitability highlights the strengths of interactive storytelling, evoking emotions like guilt, powerlessness, and reflection in a way that noninteractive mediums could not.