Originally released for the Dreamcast in 2001, Rez is an interesting game to observe in relation to affect, and it can be seen why it is used so much in this kind of discourse. It’s a game about feeling the music, and responding in kind. The plot and characters are expressed in rather abstract forms, evolving from a simple sphere to increasingly humanoid shapes. Any context that is  established simply tells us of a rogue A.I., and a hacker’s mission to shut it down.

Yet still, its experience as one of pure synaesthesia provides an example of the structured experience that systematically generates affective responses throughout each of its levels. The avatar is merely a placeholder to quite literally embodying these sensations on behalf of the player. When flying through each level, the abstract character built from lines and simple geometric shapes pulses in rhythm with the music, simulating the trance-like sensations of being at some kind of electronic dance concert or rave.

Demonstrated in the game’s music itself, the intensity of these sensations have greater affective impact on the body than the feeling or interpretation derived from it. Hence the sole focus of the game is less about hitting every target or achieving a high score than it is about simulating this synchronicity between aural and visual. It is less about attempting to communicate a particular meaning, and more about directly moving the player with intensities. Every action is denoted by the chime or beat of simulated music instruments As incoming obstacles and targets are acquired by the player, the player is cued with the crisp tap of a high-hat cymbal, while targets are destroyed in music harmony, creating myriads of visual and aural effects.

The gameplay experience then becomes an almost spontaneous exchange, focusing on how the game makes you feel rather than think. Hence the intensities gathered from the music experience is at the forefront of Rez’s design, while the embodiment of the character is used to reinforce these affects.