Issue 3.7: The Internet of Minds?
A Psychological, Spiritual, and Narrative Analysis of the Collective Unconscious in Video Games
Game & Word Volume 3, Issue 7: Sunday, Jun. 26, 2022
Publisher: Jay Rooney
Author, Graphics, Research: Jay Rooney
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Table of Contents
Summary & Housekeeping
Feature: “The Internet of Minds?” (~24 minute read)
Food for Talk: Discussion Prompts
Game & Word-of-Mouth
Today, we’ll go as deep as we can possible go in our minds: the collective unconscious. Specifically, how Psychonauts, Control, and the Persona series portrays this fascinating, archetypal concept.
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Feature: The Internet of Minds?
🚨🚨🚨 SPOILER ALERT 🚨🚨🚨
This post contains HUGE spoilers for Control and several entries in the Persona series. You've been warned!
The Collective Unconscious: Instinct, or Spirit?
“You can't understand the mind's true form without knowing and respecting the unconscious.” ~Mr. Edogawa, Persona 4
Welcome back to the unfamiliar familiar. Last week, we touched on two different interpretations of the collective unconscious:
As a more mysterious-sounding name for the more primal parts of our brains, which operate purely on instinct with no (or minimal) conscious input;
As an “internet of minds,” through which every living mind is connected to both each other, and perhaps to the very essence of existence.
Although the scientific grounds on which the “internet of minds” interpretation of the collective unconscious rests are rather… shaky, it finds itself on a much more solid footing when viewed through a spiritual, philosophical, or metaphysical lens.
After all, the interconnectedness of not just human beings to each other, but to all life on the planet (and possibly beyond), is central to practically every major religion, from the Abrahamic “Big 3” (Judaism, Christianity, and Islam), all the way back to the shamanic animism of our neolithic forbears.
And sneer all you want at the empirical unprovability of the spiritual realm—or the “astral plane,” if you will—but you can’t deny that our history shows it is an inextricable part of our collective existence. As such, it merits our attention, understanding, and consideration—we write it off (along with whatever wisdom it can convey) at our own peril.
And the astral plane is very much archetypal. Some form of extra-dimensional spirit realm appears in the cosmologies of practically every major religion (and not-so-major, as well). In the East, we’ve got Jainism, Buddhism, and Hinduism. And even in the West, the mystical strands of Abrahamic monotheism (Kabbalah, Sufism, and Gnosticism for Judaism, Islam, and Christianity, respectively) leave no room for doubt.
But well and good as that may be, what would a Kabbalist, Sufi dervish, or Tibetan monk have to say about the collective unconscious?
Turns out, there’s an archetypal universality to that concept, as well!
Interconnectedness—the unity of all things—is a foundational concept for countless spiritual traditions. Here’s just a small sampling of what some of the world’s religions have to say about it:
“If the foot says, “Because I am not a hand, I am not a part of the body,” it is not for this reason any the less a part of the body.” ~1 Corinthians, 12:15 (Christianity)
“And hold firmly to the rope of Allah all together and do not become divided.” ~Quran; Surah Ali-Imran, verse 103 (Islam)
“We must recognize that the suffering of one person or one nation is the suffering of humanity. That the happiness of one person or nation is the happiness of humanity.” ~Dalai Lama (Tibetan Buddhism)
“At the center of the universe dwells the Great Spirit. And that center is really everywhere. It is within each of us.” ~Black Elk (Native American)
“Before God manifested Himself, when all things were still hidden in Him. He began by forming an imperceptible point; that was His own thought. With this thought He then began to construct a mysterious and holy form: The Universe.” ~The Zohar (Kabbalah)
“How do I know the way of all things at the Beginning? By what is within me.” ~Lao Tzu (Taoism)
“All nature, all formations, all creatures exist in and with one another, and they will be resolved again into their own roots.” ~The Gospel of Mary, 4:22 (Gnosticism)
“He who experiences the unity of life sees his own self in all beings, and all beings in his own self, and looks on everything with an impartial eye.” ~Bhagavad-Gita (Hinduism)
“Humankind has not woven the web of life. We are but one thread within it. Whatever we do to the web, we do to ourselves. All things are bound together. All things connect.” ~Chief Seattle (Native American)
Even science agrees, from a certain point of view. After all, we’re all made of the same matter. The gluons, quarks, hadrons, and eventually atoms that formed in the wake of the Big Bang constitute the building blocks of all material objects in the Universe. Galaxies, stars, planets, moons, solids, liquids, gases, bacteria, fungi, plants, and animals—including humans—are all coded in the same language (to further continue the computer analogy).
To illustrate, there’s the viral quote from physicist Aaron Freeman putting it more eloquently. He’s talking about what happens after you die, but the basic idea still holds (emphasis mine):
“You can hope your family will examine the evidence and […] be comforted to know your energy's still around. According to the law of the conservation of energy, not a bit of you is gone; you're just less orderly. Amen.” ~Aaron Freeman
And then, of course, we’ve got our old friend: Carl Jung. And Jung, remember, was the first person to posit the collective unconscious’s existence.1
But going back to our two interpretations at the start of this article, which do you think Jung subscribed to? If you’ve been paying attention throughout this series, you know this question’s tougher to crack than it seems.2
On one hand, Jung was highly analytical and rigorously scientific—which I think is why Jung’s theories have aged far more gracefully than his former mentor Freud’s, but that’s neither here nor there.
But on the other hand, he was an intensely spiritual person, and he was deeply fascinated by the mystical, the spiritual, the mythological, and the occult. And this fascination lasted his entire life. One needs only to notice how passionately and sincerely he defends his views on synchronicity, which is the fancy science term for when people ascribe greater meaning to (most likely) coincidental events.
Jung had experienced so many of these moments, that he couldn’t keep writing them off as mere coincidence. There’s a particularly famous one involving a golden scarab. But knowing his peers would find his epiphany preposterous, he kept this—along with his more… esoteric views—to himself for years. Which further muddies the waters.
But regardless of whether Jung stanned “Team Lizard Brain” or “Team Astral Plane,” both interpretations stem from the same assertion: we’re all members of the same species, made of the same particles, and sharing the same brain structure, same lifecycles (generally speaking), and the same collective unconscious. The latter of which, in turn, contains our shared instincts, base desires, and all our collectively inherited cognitive and behavioral tendencies which we colloquially call “human nature.”
As to whether or not all minds are psychically linked via an extra-dimensional astral plane (a much more literal form of interconnectedness)… let’s table that discussion for another time.
So, how do stories depict and present the collective unconscious? As you could imagine, portraying such an abstract concept in visual media presents some… not insignificant challenges. It’s hard enough to describe merely in writing—so how would a filmmaker or game designer even begin?
As such, I couldn’t find many film examples. The three that most come to mind are:
Heaven and Earth Magic (1962): basically a black-and-white animated acid trip. It depicts the growth and apotheosis of the protagonist, and the art consists entirely of clippings from print media (mainly newspapers and magazines). The visual symbolism of media circulating these archetypal stories throughout humanity’s psyche is very hard to miss.
The Holy Mountain (1973): an insanely trippy exploration of an alternate reality where archetypes and collective mythologies manifest much more literally and concretely than in our world. The film explores how these myths made manifest affect the world’s reality (and vice-versa).
Inception (2010): Are you really surprised? We’ve been talking about dreams, Jung, and the unconscious so much throughout this series; you had to have known we were going to talk about this movie at some point. There’s more to unpack here, so let’s move out of this bulleted list first.
While Christopher Nolan’s greatest masterpiece (don’t @ me) doesn’t directly involve the collective unconscious per se, much of Cobb and his fellow extractors’ work involves retrieving unknown information from other people’s minds.
The very idea of accessing information that one wouldn’t (or shouldn’t) consciously know sounds outlandish—unless you believe in the “internet-of-minds” version of the collective unconscious, in which case the sharing of information between interconnected minds becomes not only plausible, but obvious.
Lucid dreamers, particularly, often report precisely such occurrences. Now, these stories are anecdotal and—in and of themselves—don’t quite constitute an empirical smoking gun. Regardless, the results, details, and frequency of these reports are such that we should at least entertain the possibility that our minds are more interconnected than we thought.3
Oh look, there I go again. Sorry, I know I’ve already said we’d put a pin on that. After all, this debate’s far beyond this article’s scope. So, let’s just bring it back to the whole point of this newsletter: video games. Which brings us to this week’s main course: how do video games approach and portray the collective unconscious?
Or rather, how do some particular video games approach the subject? Just like with movies, I’m not drawing from a particularly large sample pool. Still, the games that do tackle it provide plenty of discussion fodder. Specifically, the ones I’ve chosen are:
Psychonauts 1 & 2 (2005 & 2021, respectively)
The Persona Series (1996-2020)
So, let’s dive in. It’ll be quite… illuminating! 👀🔆
When Dreams Are Coded in Binary
For this analysis, I’m going to go in order of complexity, starting with the most straightforward depiction: the Psychonauts duology.4
Psychonauts 1 + 2
Since we’ve already discussed Psychonauts and its sequel at great length (and still have more to go, on another topic), and since their depictions of the collective unconscious are the simplest, I figured we’d briefly mention them.
In both Psychonauts games, the collective unconscious dwells in the astral plane (Sasha’s term, not mine), linking and connecting every mind in the world to one another. Not only does this serve as a passable summation of the concept, but it also serves an essential function for any contemporary 3D action-adventure platformer: fast travel.
The days of playing a level once and being done with it have been gone for several decades now. Players expect that they’ll revisit levels they’ve beaten, perhaps multiple times, in order to find new upgrades, items, lore, or bonus battles in parts of the level that had been previously locked off.5
Sometimes, this is easy enough—say, if all you need to do is navigate a level selection screen. But if the game features an open world, or a hub world (an “overworld”; a level in itself, but from which all other levels are accessed), the player will have to head all the way back to the level she wants to replay, in real time. This is known as backtracking, and having it in your game is an easy way to really annoy gamers.
But if you can fast travel, you can skip directly to wherever you want to go. This drastically cuts back on time wasted backtracking, leading to an overall improved player experience.
In Psychonauts’ case, the Collective Unconscious is a hub world (separate from the main hub world) where all the minds (ie, levels) you’ve previously cleared can be accessed at any time.
It’s really quite clever! In one fell stroke, the fine folks at Double Fine saved players countless hours of backtracking drudgery, while also visually depicting the highly abstract concept of the collective unconscious—in a way that’s both easy for the player to grasp, and mostly correct (albeit in broad strokes).
Though, I guess “correct” depends on your view on the astral plane’s existence—but remember, these games take place in a universe where ESP, telekinesis, levitation, and other psychic phenomena are indisputably real. So it’s at least internally consistent.
Ok, I’m going to try to explain this one as simplest as I can, because Control—a third-person shooter that gives off major X-Files-ey vibes—gets very weird at times. Yet, for such a surreal title, it offers a surprisingly believable take on the collective unconscious. Granted, the game’s superb worldbuilding goes a long way in selling it to you… but after playing through the main story, I’m convinced that Jung’s nodding his approval at his developers, from deep within the astral plane.
The game puts you in control6 of Jesse Feden, a “parautilitarian” (read: someone with superpowers) who literally stumbles her way into a job as new Director of the Federal Bureau of Control, an M.I.B.-esque government agency tasked with investigating, containing, and covering up Altered World Events (AWEs)—basically, incursions into our world from other worlds (or dimensions, or parallel universes, or ???’s).
“Hey, wait a minute!”, you’re probably thinking to yourself. “Alternate universes, paranormal abilities, the Feds… what does all that have to do with Jung, or psychology, or this ‘unconscious’ bulls—?!”
And to that, I first respond by reminding you that—check the roadmap way up above, in case you’ve forgotten—we’re both in the collective unconscious right now. As such, I can hear your thoughts! So… watch your damn language.
Second, I’ll show you right now, wise guy. For starters, you can find and read a researcher’s memo on… can you guess? The collective unconscious:
EXAMINATION OF PARANATURAL TOPICS
Collective unconscious is defined as a form of the unconscious that is shared in all human minds. From this arises unconscious knowledge linking us through our ancestral heritage (see Jung report, pg. 12–34). Through this collective unconscious, we unknowingly attribute a series of images and archetypes to all elements of our lives. These archetypes are never fixed, but shift and change in tandem with our species and culture.
This internal belief in the power of images, shared by a massive population, is [REDACTED] in the creation of Altered Items and Objects of Power. The sheer amount of [REDACTED] exuded is attracted to the best representation of that image, imbuing a single object with massive amounts of [REDACTED].
Theoretically, Places of Power could likewise be formed by the simple power of sustained, collective belief.
Refer to file 5-41-7532 for full report.8
That description sounds pretty faithful to our pal Carl’s, doesn’t it? And just to further drive home the point, the memo even namedrops the man! But this document does more than just make the game developers sound smart and well-read.9
The first paragraph clearly establishes that this is indeed the same collective unconscious that Jung talked about. The second and third paragraphs—and you’re just going to have to take my word for this—tell us that not only is it the “astral plane” variety, but that it’s also real. So real as to be the subject of scientific study and government monitoring.
Why does the government care? Because there are moments in space and time in which the two planes—the material, and the astral—intersect. There’s a ton of fascinating lore surrounding these places (“thresholds”) and events (the aforementioned “AWEs”), but in the interest of time, let’s leave it at this: when the two planes collide, weird and sometimes sinister things happen.
How weird? How sinister? Enough to completely cover up the entire Bureau and everything it’s involved in. And they take their security very seriously:10
FEDERAL BUREAU OF CONTROL
Certain objects are not allowed inside the Bureau. Recent incidents have necessitated an issued reminder on prohibited materials.
-"Smart" Gaming Devices
-Number 2 Pencils
-Any objects considered iconic representations of an archetypal concept (e.g. rubber ducks, ketchup bottles)
All material under Bureau investigation is to be brought in through the private entrances. If you see any lobby personnel in breach of these policies, please notify your supervisor immediately.
Oh, look! There’s that word—”archetypal”—again! Spotting a pattern?
Finally, Jesse herself will travel to and from the astral plane on several occasions. Usually, these involve passing some sort of trial in order to unlock some neat psychic powerup. The rest will be to communicate with this mysterious entity:
Yes, the inverted pyramid. That’s the Board, and we don’t know much about… whatever it is, but it’s purported to be in direct control of the Bureau, having handpicked Jesse for the job. And considering this is the astral plane, it’d only be fitting for the Board to be some sort of protector deity.
Perhaps even… THE protector deity. Especially since the Board appears locked in a mortal stalemate against an unknown, malevolent, and formless force known only as “the Hiss.” You’ve probably already figured out it’s up to Jesse to defeat the Hiss.
But I’ve already spoiled enough of this game as is. If you want to find out if she succeeds—as well as what secrets she finds in the collective unconscious—you’ll just have to play the game for yourself.
Trust me. It’s a lot of fun! If you’re a gamer of a certain age, it will surface warm, fuzzy memories of Perfect Dark (2000). If you enjoyed the action sequences in The Matrix, you’ll have a blast11 with the combat. And if you were a die-hard X-Files fan back in the day, this is the closest thing you’ll get to actually playing it (certainly much better than that godawful official adaptation).
Bonus: Even if you’re not a gamer, Control’s got tons of accessibility options, so you can make it as easy or as challenging as you want. This also includes an “immortality” option for those who don’t care about the action and just want to experience the story (or are rushing to research the game in time for their publication deadline… not like I’d know anything about that).
Persona: The Series About Personas
Ok, here we are. If you’re still with me, I sincerely thank you for your patience. But I’m afraid I must ask for even more of your patience. Because now, we’re going to talk about Persona. Yes, I know it sounds benign, maybe even fun, now that you understand what that term even means. But oh, sweet summer child, your mind’s about to get tied into knots.
Now, just to be clear, I’m not knocking the series—these are great games... to play. We’re here to analyze. And while this series is titled Persona, it doesn’t stop there. These games are so steeped in Jungian concepts and themes that they might as well be called “Carl Jung: THE GAMES!”
As such, we’ve got a lot to unpack here. Yes, I know I say that all the time, but we really do this time. So, go ahead and pour a cuppa off the kettle. Because this might take a while.
Persona is a quintilogy12 of Japanese Roleplaying Games (JRPGs), itself a spinoff of Shin Megami Tensei, which is another successful JRPG franchise. Unsurprisingly, Persona is all about… well, personas. Specifically, the psychological kind. You know, the ones we’ve talked about in this very newsletter. The ones that Jung taught us about. Yes, those personas.
JRPGs, as a genre, are notorious for stuffing their 60-hour marathon games with as much convoluted and needlessly complicated lore as will fit on the game disk. Persona is no exception—both as a series, and for each individual game. Of which there are five.13
And the latest one, Persona 5, clocks in at over 100 hours. Just to finish the main story! Not including side quests, multiple endings, and other optional content.
If you’re a JRPG fan, this wouldn’t be a big deal—but if you really are a JRPG fan, then you’ve already played through the series, several times over. If you’re not a fan, and you’d still like to follow along, allow me to present a much faster and less grindy option—just watch the following (brief, I promise!) plot summaries to get you (somewhat) fully up to speed:
Back? Ok, good! By the way, it’s OK if you didn’t get or follow all of that. To be perfectly honest, neither do I. But I have grasped just enough to conduct a rudimentary psychological analysis on it.
In any case, now that we’re (somewhat) on the same page about the series’ premise, themes, overarching storyline, and other basics—let’s turn our laser focus to its psychological elements. Specifically, how it depicts the collective unconscious.14
In the Persona series, the collective unconscious manifests in different ways, and goes by different names—Mementos, the Abyss of Time, the Sea of Souls, and even the Metaverse (yes, ole’ Marky Mark owes Atlus a few royalty checks).
The way these different representations manifest and connect is… complicated, but just as we’ve seen before, everything points to the collective unconscious as the deepest and most primal layer of existence. The birthplace—and playground of archetypes. A discreet, physical location, but one that dwells within each and every one of our hearts.
Confused? Oh, don’t you worry, it gets worse.
It’s also the realm where literal angels and demons reside, the plane where every human soul comes from before birth and gets cleansed and goes to rest after death, and where electro J-POP fueled dance-off final boss battles go down. No, I’m not kidding.15
Throughout each Persona game, the protagonists visit the collective unconscious several times, and it changes game by game. Even its name changes, as mentioned above. In-universe, this is explained as the collective unconscious absorbing individual and cultural knowledge from returning souls, and adapting accordingly.
It’s not quite what Jung posited, but it’s close enough. That said, the Persona series’ collective unconscious does depart more clearly from Jung’s theories in other aspects. For instance, it being the dwelling place of literal deities, including demiurge archetypes that warrant a whole writeup of their own (given that, despite Jung’s—and our—forays into the mythological, this is still a psychological analysis and not a religious one).
But in other aspects, it hits pretty close to the mark. Of particular note is an entire optional lecture on the collective unconscious (and other Jungian concepts) in Persona 4:
As you can see, despite the centrality of the collective unconscious to the Persona series, even from the very beginning, the series is frustratingly paradoxical as to its true nature. Even trying to wrap your head around it takes several dozen hours of gameplay16 and even then, you might not understand all…
…hey, wait a minute. Maybe that’s the point?
Maybe, just maybe, the the fact that it’s all so maddeningly complex and contradictory is itself a commentary on how the collective unconscious is beyond human understanding?
Because if so… well done, Persona. Well friggin done.
Where To From Here?
Phew. That was… quite a journey, wasn’t it? But we’re not done yet. Hell, there are many Jungian concepts I’ve glossed over or skipped in the interest of brevity (a big one being the anima/animus), and so I can wrap up this volume relatively soon.
Before that, though, there is one area that I want to touch on: video game depictions of mental illness.
But that’s a topic that warrants its own article (maybe even a two-piecer), so we’ll just have to wait until next time. Meanwhile, let’s get back on board the tour vehicle, and surface back to the conscious world. My sensors indicate that you’re all dangerously close to psychic overload right now.
See you next time!
Food for Talk: Discussion Prompts
While you wait for the next issue, I invite you to mull over the following discussion prompts. Please reply to this email with your answers, or post them in the comments—I'd love to hear your thoughts!
What is your conception/interpretation of the collective unconscious?
Which of the three games/series in this issue do you think best depics the collective unconscious? Explain.
Do these games succeed in portraying the collective unconscious more or less than other media? How so, or how not?
I know this issue (and volume) is a mindful enough, but hopefully I’ve piqued enough of your interest that you’d like to learn more about Jung and analytical psychology. If so, I’ve got just the fix for you:
Man and His Symbols by Carl Gustav Jung — Finally, I can list the source, the fount, the man himself. The brilliant mind behind almost every idea and concept we’ve discussed over the past few months. This book, the last one published before his death, has the dual advantage of being comprehensive in its coverage of Jungian psych while also being accessible enough for lay people to read and grasp. And, as an added bonus, it’s in the public domain. So, if this volume of G&W has sparked your curiosity, there’s no reason not to dive deeper—and this is the best entry point.
Persona 4: What Are Shadows and Personas? hosted on Let’s Play Archive — Full series of optional, in-game classroom “lectures” that covers just about everything related to Jungian psychology. If you need a refresher, start here. To advance to the next lecture, click the “Part #147” next to an arrow at the bottom of the page. [NOTE: There are 10 lectures in total; not too long, but not exactly a quick read.]
Exploring Myth and Society in Persona 5 by Edward Weech — If you want to go REALLY deep down the Persona rabbit hole, this is a good place to start. Set aside some time, and make sure you don’t have any mentally strenuous tasks scheduled for before or after you read this piece.
Persona 5, developed by Atlus, published by Atlus — PlayStation
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#psychology #metaphysics #spirituality
#Psychonauts #Control #Persona
In a more secular context, at least.
The more you know, the more you know you don’t know.
One could point out that the whole notion of interconnectedness is itself archetypal, but this piece is already getting too complicated as is.
If there’s a better word for a two-part series, please let me know.
This is especially prevalent in genres like 3D platformers, colloquially referred to as “collect-a-thons” due to the sheer amount of collectible tokens/items/upgrades the developers cram into each level. If you have completionist tendencies, this can be a decidedly mixed curse.
No pun intended. No, seriously! Believe me, I’ll be the first to cop to writing the cringiest puns and dad jokes in the lexicon. But this time really was purely coincidental… or perhaps it was synchronicity??? …Ok, that one was intentional.
Even if the rest of the document wasn’t so heavily redacted, you wouldn’t be able to wrap your mind around it without a lot more context that’s WAY beyond this post’s scope. If I’ve stoked your curiosity such that you won’t rest until you can understand the whole thing… then I highly recommend just playing the game. It’s a lot of fun!
Oh, and add a bit more texture to the game’s world. And there are dozens of memos like this. I told you the worldbuilding was great!
Ok, this one I did type out myself.
Pun absolutely intended. >:)
See, why do only series with three entries get their own word? I’ve decided IDGAF, and will bring words like “quintilogy” and “duology” into popular usage through sheer force of will.
Not counting spinoffs. Yes, that’s right—spinoffs of a spinoff. We’re getting quite meta here!
One of the hardest decisions I had to make regarding this volume was when to feature it. Like in Majora’s Mask, masks are central both to Persona 5’s mechanics and lore—in fact, you assume your persona (and its power) by putting on a mask. And similarly to EarthBound’s Magicant, Persona 5 also makes use of internal “Mindscapes.”
But I decided to save it for the tail end of our exploration into the mind, because it has a fantastic take on the collective unconscious. And all the other stuff ties in with each other, and that’ll be easier to follow now that you know what all the psychobabble actually means. Plus, I’ll admit that a “save the best for last” mentality factored into my decision, at least partly.
Just for the record, these ideas did NOT come from Jung.