The Stanley Parable: Part Three: Our Relation To The Narrative:

There's a part in TSP where, after Stanley has thoroughly thrown The Narrator off track, The Narrator becomes agitated and decides to restart the game. As it turns out, the "restart" is fake; everything following it is all part of a preset storyline. This ties in with the illusion of choice, the last part of this series, but what's more brilliant is this: The player does not know the restart was fake. I had my suspicions, but after a few seconds of sameness I started to think it was an actual restart. When The Narrator started spouting new dialogue, I was surprised, and happy the game managed to decieve me.

When we take part in a narrative -- a book, a play, a movie -- we implicitly agree to a relationship with it. We are the entertained; the narrative is the entertainer. In the moment I described above, TSP reminded me: I was not the entertainer. I was never the entertainer. The game has a few preset, railroaded storylines. The only thing I get to control is what storyline I experience. When the game is capable of altering some aspect of the gamestate without my knowledge, it shows me just how little control I have in comparison to it. My relation to the narrative is not give and take. It is not fifty fifty. 

Example two: There is another ending in TSP where you're stuck in a small room. A prompt comes onto the screen telling you to push the "q" button. You push it. The Narrator delivers a small bit of dialogue, remarking on your lack of autonomy. Another prompt, telling you to push "t". You push it. A prompt, you follow, Narrator. Lather, rinse, repeat until The Narrator begs you not to push the button, to spare yourself, to prove that you are free.

Nothing forces you to push the button; in fact, The Narrator actively tells you not to. At the same time, nothing happens until you do push the button. The room doesn't change. There is no additional dialogue. So what happens? Eventually, you push the button. You sacrifice your autonomy for progression's sake. Nothing is the railroad that gets you back on track. It's refreshing to see railroading stripped down to its most basic element: Progression.

Let's look at Stanley's job in the story. He pushes a button when a machine tells him to. He then feels happy because a mind control device tells him to. We look at this job with disdain and laugh at how ridiculous it is; clearly it's ridiculous. But TSP has made us Stanley. We push the button. We feel happy. TSP is the mind control device. In a way, all video games are the mind control device that tells us to push a button and rewards us with happiness in the form of rewarding gameplay and a compelling story. This is our relation to the narrative.

-Me