What-Ifs and What Next

Our lives are filled with countless decisions, each with the potential to alter the path forward.

Within videogames, branching narrative systems often grant players the agency to explore multiple choices and results, uncovering a series of “what-ifs” among diverging scenarios and destinies.

Typically, such exploration is made possible through saving and loading at various points in a story’s progression of events, replaying segments to pursue alternative outcomes. In essence, we assemble the broader narrative by traversing one specific branch at a time.

However, The Alters manages to break away from this familiar convention.

Rooted Within Choice

As the lone survivor of a deep space mission gone wrong, Jan Dolski faces the insurmountable ordeal of sustaining a large mobile base alone on an alien planet. He must establish infrastructure to mine for resources, construct essential living and work modules, and manufacture tools and equipment — all the while racing against the approaching sunrise that annihilates all life forms with its radiation.

Jan seizes a fighting chance only after discovering Rapidium scattered across the planet’s surface. This miraculous element holds the key to accelerated growth, pushing matter into advanced stages of development within hours rather than years. It is the main reason for the space mission, after all, to extract and deliver as much Rapidium as possible to restore the state of agriculture on Earth.

For the mission’s success — and his own survival — Jan decides to use Rapidium in a far more experimental manner. But this isn’t a story about cloning. It is, in fact, about alters.

The body is a vessel for our consciousness; human beings are made of both hardware and software. Jan requires more people to manage the base, more working bodies, but he also needs them to be proficient and educated in multiple disciplines. And so enters quantum computing into the equation.

It turns out that Jan’s employer, Ally Corp, has secretly kept mind records of all its current workers. Taking advantage of this corporate overreach, Jan accesses the quantum computer and simulates versions of himself, of where his life would have led to if he were to branch away at certain points, like playing a choose-your-own-adventure game. These artificial memories are then implanted into Rapidium-powered vessels grown from his own DNA sample, creating a new space crew of alters.

Each of the alters, due to their alternative lived experiences, embodies a realised possibility of Jan. Together, they demonstrate the tension between nature and nurture, while fleshing out the many curious “what-ifs” of an individual’s story. Yet unlike the average game that isolates paths through saves and replays, we get to study a collection of Dolskis side by side, coexisting as living branches shaped by their own decisions, and even interacting with one another in a high-stakes setting.

This is why The Alters is so compelling, as it pushes boundaries of ludonarrative design by layering divergent character choices and outcomes into a unified, interwoven structure. Actor Alex Jordan deserves much credit for bringing to life no less than eleven distinct versions of Jan Dolski.

To truly appreciate the pliability of one’s life, let us explore several branching examples of Jan’s tale.

Branch of Interest: The Technician

A person’s family of origin provides the environment where core beliefs, values, and communication patterns take root, shaping personality and relationship dynamics into adulthood. It is no surprise, therefore, that any major decision made within this context can have lasting impact.

For Jan, his upbringing was marked by an abusive father who acted aggressively toward his mother. The toxicity left him desperate for escape, and so he went off to college as soon as the chance arose.

Unfortunately, things at home only deteriorated with his mother falling sick and passing away while Jan partied on in his reckless youth. This lack of closure continues to haunt him until this day.

But had he stayed home — the initial major branching point — Jan would have been forced to stand up to his father, challenging the cycle of abuse in the family. And despite forgoing tertiary education (which is often overrated), his choice to attend a vocational school, paired with his determination, would pave the way for him to become Jan the Technician.

The birth of the Technician is crucial for survival, as he is able to make certain repairs to their mobile base that vanilla Jan cannot. Fuelled by his experiences, this self-sufficient alter also teaches Jan the importance of being assertive, unlocking dialogue options during confrontations against Ally Corp.

These two grow close over time, but not without friction. After all, the Technician is a tough nut who carved out his own path through life with rebellion and grit. He is a moody character, prone to anger when things don’t go his way. Befitting his nature, he finds courage and catharsis in rock music.

To the Technician’s credit, he stuck around and supported their mother when it mattered the most. He rebukes Jan for trying to seek closure via digging into his version of events, his private memories earned by facing life’s toughest moments head-on, instead of running away.

This is a sobering lesson, one that compels me to reflect on my family history. For I also struggled under an abusive father; and like Jan, I grew up preferring the option of escape — to keep a healthy distance, as some would say. Who knows how my life might have turned out, had I the bravery and strength to stand my ground? The inability to confront what I feared most has often gnawed at my heart like a defining failure, a weakness I continue to carry with me.

Branch of Interest: The Botanist

Back at the base, Jan and his alters may opt to grow some fresh vegetables in their greenhouse, using Rapidium again to hasten the process. While these ingredients taste better than the bland mush made of nebulous organic matter, they are by no means essential to survival.

In light of this, Jan the Botanist doesn’t seem to add much value to the team… until you realise that he is the only one whose life path kept him married to their wife, Lena Berg.

And it isn’t just because he presumably gave Lena flowers on a regular basis, but his humble and considerate attitude, coupled with a willingness to communicate, played a crucial role in sustaining their relationship. Whereas vanilla Jan pressured Lena to abandon her hopes of relocating for work, the Botanist supported her career advancement, choosing instead to become a house husband who, by the way, prefers soothing music resonant with his soft, nurturing energy.

Regardless, fate ensures that Lena ends up working at Ally Corp’s medical division. With her focused biotech background, she has much to offer for everyone’s survival and the mission’s success over the course of the game. Access to her expertise is but a call away via the quantum communication hub.

However, there is but one tiny problem: Jan never thinks to ask for help from Lena — whether as his wife or now, his ex-wife. The thirst for control keeps him trapped in familiar patterns, convinced that every obstacle must be solved on his own terms. More often than not, this foolish, prideful attitude results in a cycle of failure and estrangement.

Yet with the Botanist’s guidance, Jan begins to learn about reliance, realising that he needs all the help he can get. Given the chance, Lena’s knowledge could prove invaluable for the crew’s survival: from cultivating polymers resilient enough to form a bridge in Act 1, to engineering a neural implant in Act 2 that counteracts the Rapidium-induced cognitive degradation afflicting the alters.

Should Jan allow it, the Botanist could substitute him in one of the calls with Lena, aiding the process of repairing their relationship. This is helpful, but not without complications.

The opportunity to converse with Lena delights the Botanist, but it also triggers feelings of jealousy, for he senses a profound loss. On one hand, within their shared past, he feels robbed of exclusivity, since another Jan carries the same memories with her. On the other, in light of their diverging paths, he mourns the broken state of the present relationship, reminded that this particular Lena isn’t truly his wife at all. What a sensitive soul in a fascinating mess!

For all the ethical and relational complications surrounding the creation of alters, the Botanist holds fast to one fantasy: that he might one day return to Lena and live happily ever after.

As a divorcee, I think back to the times that I behaved in a controlling manner toward my wife, May, often compensating for areas where I had fallen short. She has always been a highly capable woman, and while I leaned on her, I did not do so with peace. Instead, my self-resentment left me paralysed, unable to give back in the way she deserved.

And even though I have now softened up a great deal, much in the spirit of the Botanist, I no longer cling to the hope of restoring our marriage. By the grace of God, we have moved on from spousal commitments into a special siblingship. I am deeply grateful that we continue to support each other as family in this new form. Without this renewed bond, I would find the struggle unbearable.

Branch of Interest: The Miner

Mining for resources is essential to attaining success in the game. Therefore, when I came across this branch of Jan who excels in mining (+50% efficiency bonus), I quickly decided to add him to the crew.

Little did I realise that whenever multiple paths or possibilities exist, there is always a worst-case scenario waiting to unfold. Unfortunately, Jan the Miner embodies this very calamity.

The Miner’s downfall began when he — against better judgement — accepted a job offer facilitated by his father, following in his footsteps. He worked tirelessly to cover his mother’s medical expenses, but it never seemed to make any difference. After her passing, he tried to be strong, taking on extra mining shifts… yet it all felt pointless, as he had no one to come home to, no one to live for.

Even as he endeavoured to study, his mind refused to focus. Rote, heavy labour became his refuge. He doubled down on work and engaged in riskier jobs that involved the use of explosives, eventually finding a grim satisfaction in doing what few others had the courage to attempt.

Then came the accident that plunged him into darkness: a haywire blast obliterating his right arm!

But thankfully, warping back to the present, we get to produce from scratch the Miner’s body with Jan’s DNA, complete with every limb intact. He wakes up with a brand new arm, no doubt relieved — or so we might think…

Instead of being pleasantly surprised, the Miner freaks out. Before long, he starts complaining about a constant ache in this new arm, as though suffering from a peculiar case of reverse phantom pain. He demands heavy painkillers, the sort of drugs that he had relied on after losing his arm in the past.

The pills are but a band-aid for something far deeper; the Miner is a troubled addict with serious mental issues. Though skilled at his trade, he struggles during work, often having accidents and injuring himself. He even loses track of time, drilling until the planet’s radiation makes him sick.

His self-destructive tendencies reach a breaking point when he proceeds to amputate himself right there in the kitchen, of all places. It is a bloody and insane act by a man teetering on the edge.

Having lost his ability to work, he then spirals into insecurity; sadly, he measures his self-worth entirely by his usefulness. As is apparent, I didn’t label him the worst-case scenario for nothing!

I resonate with the Miner’s position. Born into a high-achieving family, I was expected to accomplish great things with all the resources at hand. Yet a combination of trauma, poor choices, and patterns of self-destruction left much of my potential unrealised. Now, like our one-armed friend, I am always battling a lingering insecurity, often feeling like a failure myself.

If we’re judging by mere success, I appear out of place among my family members. In the same vein, one might look at the Miner and wonder if he truly shares the same DNA with the rest of the alters, especially when set against the Scientist: the sharpest, most learned and level-headed of the bunch. Such stark contrast highlights the power that nurture can have over nature.

Despite all his faults and brokenness, the Miner remains a player’s favourite. That is because we are present and active in helping him find breakthrough. While alters like the Technician or the Botanist awaken with triumphant, defining moments already behind them, the Miner’s rehabilitation unfolds over the course of the game. The road to embracing the lesson of vulnerability is a long one.

We get to heal the Miner’s body by either replacing (with prosthetics) or regrowing (with Rapidium) his severed arm in Act 1; we then heal his mind in Act 2 through contemplation or therapy sessions; and in Act 3, we direct him toward a new creative outlet, providing tools and materials to play with, which finally give him healthier focus and a reclaimed sense of purpose.

Our close involvement in the Miner’s journey makes it especially memorable. His story becomes one of redemption: once a loser, the ultimate worst-case scenario, he is now a productive, indispensable member of the crew, a vital part of this special brotherhood. His transformation compels me to keep hope alive, to persist in being fruitful in the ways I can, and to continue engaging with and reflecting upon art — a core reason why I have undertaken to write this article in the first place.

Blooming Toward Tomorrow

We don’t really know it, but we sense it…
There is a sister ship to our life which takes a totally different route.
While the sun burns behind the islands.

— Tomas Tranströmer, The Blue House

I remember being rather baffled at the time by this opening quote as I crash-landed into the cosmos of The Alters, unsure of what destiny had in store. Yet after spending extensive time with Jan Dolski and all of his alters, I have come to see how aptly this evocative image frames the existentialism.

Indeed, each individual alter emerges as a “sister ship” to Jan’s life, charting their own course along consequential choices and unforeseen circumstances that shape relationships, careers, personalities, as well as the type of music they appreciate. By observing these divergent siblings interact, struggle, and succeed side by side, we are reminded that every journey carries paths both taken and avoided, and that even amid the harshest of realities, there remains room for hope and redemption.

The sun, burning behind the islands and scorching everything in its wake, represents the relentless passage of time. Indifferent to our choices and unyielding to our readiness, it heightens the stakes pressing on every decision and underscores the impermanence of opportunity. Jan and his alters must keep moving, or they risk incineration; likewise, we must not linger in one place for too long, lest we be reduced to the radioactive ashes of yesterday’s shadow.

We may consider the forks never explored and the outcomes only imagined. Lessons pour forth from the shadow of regret, yet acceptance is pivotal. It is important to ponder, but not to dwell too long — for if we let the “what-ifs” derail us, we are merely tripping over what lies behind us.

Alternatively, by focusing on the race against the sun, we stand ready to face whatever comes next. Even for a late bloomer like myself, I know that tomorrow is just beyond the horizon.