Emperor: A Poetic VR Experience of Life with Aphasia

In our everyday lives, we often believe that language can precisely convey our inner thoughts. But is it always that reliable? Imagine when you say, "I'm just doing this for your own good," the other person might not hear your concern but rather a hidden criticism. Or when someone says, "I'm fine," does it really mean everything is calm on the surface, or does it hide unspoken fatigue and emotions?

Even in "normal" situations, language is full of cognitive ambiguities. So, what happens when you're dealing with a father who has aphasia? In the chaos and fragmentation of language, can we find new ways to communicate? The VR interactive narrative piece, Emperor, invites audiences into the inner world of a father with aphasia, allowing them to experience the absence and reconstruction of his thoughts, language, and emotions through a delicate and poetic narrative.

This piece tells the story of a father who loses his ability to speak due to aphasia, making communication with his daughter particularly challenging. Through the father's perspective, audiences experience his process of piecing together fragments of memory and language in his mind. Using hand tracking and other interactive designs, audiences simulate the father's situation, performing everyday actions like writing, and feeling his frustration and effort due to his disability. As the experience progresses, audiences gradually enter the father's inner world, reconstructing a complete story from fragmented memories.

Visually, Emperor is presented in a minimalist black, gray, and white palette, combined with a subtle yet impactful sound design, making the visuals resemble an unfinished hand-drawn sketch, adding a poetic and abstract feel. This abstraction not only focuses the audience on the emotional world of the characters but also reflects the fleeting and reconstructive nature of memory between clarity and ambiguity.

With its touching narrative and unique visual approach, Emperor has not only received the "XR Spark Special Recognition Award" and "XR Immersive Award" at the Kaohsiung Film Festival but has also garnered multiple accolades at international film festivals like the Venice Biennale, becoming one of the most acclaimed works. In this interview, director Marion Burger and producer Oriane Hurard share the creative journey behind the piece.

Using Personal Experiences to Tell a Universal Story

"When I first read the concept of Emperor, I was deeply moved, even to the point of tears. It was the first time I had such a reaction just from reading a project description," recalls producer Oriane Hurard about her initial encounter with the project. This intuitive touch perhaps stems from the most universal yet unspeakable theme in the story—the helplessness and persistence when we try to understand our loved ones.

"We wanted to bring a very personal and intimate story to a broad audience, exploring communication barriers and connection between parents and children," Oriane says. In a way, Emperor is not just about a case of aphasia but reflects the unspoken, difficult-to-express emotional entanglements in every family. When language becomes a barrier, love transforms into a more fundamental pursuit—we are all trying to overcome obstacles and understand each other. Aphasia might not just be a condition but a universal predicament.

What Truly Takes Us into the Father's Mind?

Interestingly, Emperor was not initially planned to be presented in VR. "At first, I wanted to make it an animated film because I wanted to maintain a sense of distance," admits director Marion Burger. It wasn't until discussions with another director, Ilan Cohen, that they decided to use VR as the medium. "Ilan told me, since this story explores the father's inner world, why not try VR? This medium allows the audience to enter the character's mind in the most direct way."

This suggestion opened up a whole new narrative approach. "VR is an immersive medium that allows the audience not just to watch the story but to participate in it. You're no longer a bystander but experiencing the father's confusion from his perspective, and even the daughter's efforts to mend their relationship," Marion explains. The combination of dual perspectives is the core of this story.

Balancing the father's perspective while maintaining aesthetic distance was no easy task. Perhaps this explains why the visual style of the piece adopts a minimalist gray and white palette. "I found that many VR works try to pursue surreal, extremely intense visual effects. But VR itself is already very immersive, and if there's too much to see, it can be overwhelming," Marion states.

In a VR piece lasting about 40 minutes, adopting a minimalist style is uncommon. To capture the audience's attention, Marion tried to simplify, allowing space for emotions to unfold. She likens this aesthetic to Japanese ink painting, "using the simplest strokes to convey rich meanings." This deliberate blank space is not just a stylistic choice but also considers the expression of abundant emotions: "We hope that through this style, we can slightly detach from reality and leave room for emotions." Just like fragments of memory, always carrying a certain hazy quality, wandering between clarity and ambiguity.

When Aphasia Becomes a Perspective

Aphasia is a language disorder caused by damage to the brain's language areas, possibly due to stroke, head injury, or other neurological conditions. Patients may have difficulty expressing and understanding language, writing, or reading, with language abilities becoming fragmented, disordered, or even completely lost. In the patient's world, communication becomes a huge challenge, even though memory and emotions still exist, they are difficult to convey through language.

"When I first conceived this project, I wanted to create a highly poetic piece, not just a documentary," says director Marion Burger. In her design, audiences enter the story from the father's perspective, experiencing the limitations and disabilities caused by the illness. Audiences need to complete a series of actions through hand tracking, such as writing and grabbing objects, and these actions are not designed to be smooth and easy but intentionally made more challenging.

"We want the audience to feel the father's frustration because he cannot communicate fluently due to aphasia," Marion explains. "It's like starting with your dominant hand (usually the right hand) but then having to use the left hand, representing the disability of the right side of the body. We hope that through these limitations, the audience can deeply understand the father's situation." Oriane adds, "This design allows the audience to not just complete actions but to resonate with the character's emotions. When you try to write but find it increasingly difficult, you can feel the father's inner frustration and struggle, which is actually a crucial core of the piece."

However, these frustrations and ambiguities are key to advancing the plot of Emperor. After completing the writing segment, audiences enter a language therapy scene. Here, you need to pick up word cards and try to understand their literal meanings, but the images that appear often don't match your expected meanings. This can be shocking, even disorienting, but this ambiguity also brings out a poetic misunderstanding. As these ambiguities repeatedly occur, the space in the father's mind gradually becomes clearer, prompting us to constantly reflect on the limitations of language and feel the attempts at communication and closeness between father and daughter.

The Essence of Communication Might Be in Constantly Getting Closer

"Marion wanted to get closer to her father, trying to imagine his inner feelings and lead the audience into this story and interact with it," said Oriane as she interpreted the motivation behind the creation of this piece.

As audiences overcome challenges and enter the father's inner world, physical limitations suddenly disappear. "When we enter his inner world, those limitations no longer exist, the shackles of the body are lifted, and you can stand up, making the experience more liberating," Marion describes this key scene. This turning point of freedom symbolizes a connection deep within the soul, transcending language barriers.

At the end of the interview, I suddenly remembered a real interaction with the father shown at the end of the piece. I recall that moment as if being awakened from a dream—all the freedom and poetry in the virtual world were instantly pulled back by the harshness of reality, leaving indescribable emotions and shock.

In Emperor, the father searches for an outlet with fragmented language, the daughter uses the piece as a bridge to approach his heart, and the audience picks up these fragments during the experience, piecing together their own "reality." Perhaps communication has never been about finding the right answer but an endless attempt. The precious part is that we are always willing to do so.