Hundreds Play Story-Story at South First Fridays

Hundreds Play Story-Story at South First Fridays

On April 5th during South First Fridays at the ZERO1 garage I invited visitors to contribute to my research by playing a digital collaborative storytelling game. The game was “story-story” (also commonly known as the add on story game), where one person starts a story and then each person takes a turn continuing the story. The modification I made to the original game was having the visitors alternate between adding an image or a sentence that would move the story forward.  It was really interesting to see how the same starting point of the story could lead to so many different narrative directions and I begin to understand how people used images to move a story forward.

The evening went really well, hundreds of people came by. Visitors were enthusiastic and really engaged in collaborating and adding on to a story.  On average, players of the game spent around 10 minutes thinking about what to add on, reading previous threads and or composing their addition. It was really helpful to my research to conclude that writing stories is something that the majority of us enjoy doing and that in general we all understand storytelling concepts – visitors knew how to continue a story theme, despite the varied content, and knew how to give an end to a story.

I'd like to share an example of one of the stories with images that got created. Enjoy!


p1 It was a rainy winter afternoon, I was feeling really tired, and I was driving home when I remembered about a secret that my good friend Samantha had told me.


p3 Samantha was a lover of marshmallows big and small and her secret involved them all. Samantha told me of how she was grocery shopping with her mother when she spotted marshmallows…


p5 ”No!” she shouted. “I must see inside of things. To the core. To the essence. There must be a formula … for life … for success … for true and lasting happiness. It is enough. But not enough. Help me. Get out of my way. Love me. Fie!”


Said the boy wearing tangerine pants, son of the evil King of Piam.  I crave artistic freedom.  Help me break free of these bonds of conformity.  Does the answer lie in marshmallows, chocolate or fashion?  I think not, but where?“Perhaps we should, just to be sure, acquire some of all three,” said Randolph who happened onto the conversation.


p7 I hold on to my image of Samantha, my long-lost sister, driving her car through the rain, too tired to drive the car straight. I was still searching for the meaning of it all, whether God was in it or not. I rubbed my eyes and realized that Samantha’s cold dark day was not my current reality.


Thoughts come rushing through my head…wait I don’t have a sister, yet this Samantha is so clear in my mind. I know her face so well. I rush to get out of bed when I freeze looking at the mirror. Samantha is in the mirror…but that cannot be. “am I Samantha…” I see the lips leave my mouth in the unfamiliar face in the mirror.

p9 It was a dream.  I fell asleep and realized that in the rain, I had no control. I was driving and lost my train of thought. Samantha was a figment of my imagination.  She didn’t exist.  It was God talking to me.  It was really Sam (son) not Sam (antha). The heart that I envisioned was my heart pounding so hard and fast since I knew this was the end….