Game Name: The Stanley Parable
Game’s Creator: Davey Wreden and William Pugh
Platform: Video Game compatible with most operating systems
Target Audience: Individuals aged 12+ who enjoy first-person adventure, simulation, and discovering one’s choices
The Stanley Parable is a walking simulator that follows the life of Stanley, employee 427, who works in an office building monitoring instructions on a computer screen and pressing buttons without question. One day, when Stanley’s computer goes blank, he realizes his office is completely abandoned, opening the door for him, and the player, to make a series of choices that determine his fate.
Right away, the game builds a feeling of suspense and introspection. The narrator, who is often satirical but always slightly unsettling, guides or comments on Stanley’s actions, leaving players wondering: “why is there someone narrating my life?” The basic mechanics of first person exploration, simple interaction with doors and buttons, and timed decision points feel deceptively light, but they in fact create dynamics that are much heavier: you’re constantly questioning your role, your freedom, and whether your choices matter. As you see the world through Stanley’s eyes, it becomes easier to lose the distinction between his choices and your own. The isolation of the empty office, the eerie footsteps, and the pull between obedience and rebellion all make the experience feel very, very personal. It’s not just about what Stanley does—it feels like it’s about what you would do if you were suddenly given freedom in a place built to control you. I found myself reflecting deeply about the patterns we fall into without even realizing it, and whether we actually question the systems we’re a part of.
From a narrative lens, The Stanley Parable is rooted in Embedded Narrative. Even though it seems like Stanley is making his own decisions, everything, including the environments, the narrator’s responses, the different endings, was carefully designed for players to uncover. Even when you rebel against the narrator, you’re still playing within paths the developers intentionally created. At the same time, it also feels like an Enacted Story because every choice you make actively pushes the story forward, whether it’s through obedience or rebellion. The tension between feeling like you’re shaping the story and realizing you’re uncovering prebuilt routes is part of what makes the experience so gripping. The kind of fun the game taps into most is driven by curiosity – you want to know what’s behind the next door, what happens if you step out of line, and whether real freedom is possible inside the structure that is built for you.
I played through four different runs, but I’ll walk through two of them in more detail. In my first run, I decided to follow the narrator’s instructions, curious to see where it would lead. The mechanics of walking and interacting with key objects are rather simple, but because of the dynamics set up by the narration and the world design, even the smallest choice feels loaded with tension. The muted colors, echo of footsteps, and endless maze of hallways all work together to create an atmosphere that’s somehow quiet but never peaceful or safe. I followed the narrator’s directions to the boss’s office, found the hidden door, and entered the Mind Control Facility. Even without the narrator’s comments, the setting involving the surveillance cameras, the giant looming machinery, the flashing lights, makes it obvious that Stanley’s world was never mundane but was in fact built for control.
Image 1: Entering the Mind Control Facility and witnessing the flashing red lights and countless surveillance videos
Every choice along the way kept making me wonder what would have happened if I had decided differently. When I got to the final choice to turn the mind control system on or off, I chose to turn it on. Stanley ends up stepping into the “real world,” surrounded by bright lights and greenery. It looks like a happy ending, but honestly, it felt almost empty like there was no real payoff for just following orders. It almost pushes you to want to dive back in and make different choices, not because the game forces you to, but because the experience feels unfinished if you never test the limits.
Image 2: A crucial decision – pressing “ON” or “OFF”
Something I’ve noticed about walking simulators is how they create spaces where you can experiment with choices you wouldn’t or couldn’t make in real life. In real life, there are always consequences: people to think about, systems you have to answer to, whereas here those external pressures are muffled. You’re free to be reckless and curious without any real world fallout. That feeling of being able to test different paths and see what happens is a huge part of why the game stays in your mind after you stop playing.
Another thing I found interesting is how the game is structured like a loop. No matter how your run ends, you’re always brought back to Stanley’s desk at the start. Even when the narrator gets fed up or tries to nudge you toward giving up, the reset makes it feel like you’re being dared to keep going. It’s a clever mechanic that keeps the momentum alive, making you want to chase after different possibilities even though you know, deep down, that everything is still happening inside a system you didn’t build.
Image 3: the looping text “The End is Never the End” pushes players to keep exploring more runs.
In my second run, I decided to defy the narrator. I made my way back to the Mind Control Facility, and when given the choice, I again pushed the system “On” instead of shutting it down like the narrator begged. This time, the game’s dynamics flipped completely. Alarms went off, the walls shook, the lighting turned angry and red, and a massive two-minute timer started counting down. The narrator’s voice, usually calm or sarcastic, became frantic and mocking. He dropped hints that maybe there was a way to survive, but also taunted “Do you really think this game can be beaten?”turning the experience into pure chaos. Even though I scrambled to look for solutions, the timer eventually ran out, the facility collapsed, and Stanley was back to square one.
What I really enjoyed about The Stanley Parable is how it tricks you into thinking you have full control, while constantly reminding you that maybe you don’t. It messes with the feeling of freedom in a way that’s both frustrating and addictive, and it’s that tension. I would describe it as the pull between autonomy and structure that makes it very difficult not to keep playing, trying to find some crack in the design.
