“Even though there will certainly be more accomplished documentaries set up in virtual worlds, Knit’s Island will always matter as being among the first.”

Knit’s Island presents itself as an oxymoron: a documentary, but made of nothing more than non-real images, given that they are taken from a video game. The three-person film crew – or rather their avatars – spent hundreds of hours travelling the simulated world of DayZ, a MMORPG (Massively Multiplayer Online Role-Playing Game) in service since 2013, meeting and interviewing longstanding users of the game just like they would do with ‘real’ people for a documentary set in the ‘real’ world. Actually, the voices we hear belong to the gamers, turning the film into a hybrid piece, half real (the sound) and half computer-generated (the visuals) – with the two often not matching one another when a player has chosen an avatar widely different from him or herself, which creates a number of unexpected comedic effects throughout the film.

In a similar manner DayZ is also a hybrid, as it combines archetypal videogame narratives and tropes (players are confronted with infected zombies in a post-apocalyptic setting) and what its human occupants have done with the place over time. Mimicking our own history, sedentary communities were formed, thrived, and in some cases became rivals with others following divergent religious or political beliefs; while on the other hand some players preferred to remain nomadic outsiders, and venture out alone into the game world for years. This variety of behaviors reflects in the encounters that form Knit’s Island, evoking a wide and disparate range of cinematic references. Here, we feel shoved into Harmony Korine’s Spring Breakers when in the company of unhinged anarcho-nihilist thugs wearing ludicrous masks and outfits. There, an invitation from a group completely different in their ways and values makes us experience the closest thing to living in a John Ford western. And while peacefully exploring the woods and fields with a couple of gamers always playing exclusively together, away from the tumult of society, we are struck by the beauty of nature as if in a Terrence Malick film.

Knit’s Island is at its best when it turns into an observational documentary, letting all these diverse inhabitants of the game take the reins of the film. They share with us some of the discoveries they made during years of exploring this virtual world and reaching its edge – that is, the areas the game designers did not plan the players to get to. Managing to go beyond those invisible barriers results in glitches and bugs, which turn out on screen as exhilarating dreamlike experiences: swimming in the sky, relaxing in an all-white cave. Another dizzying feeling born out of prolonged online multiplayer gaming is to witness simulated death. Each time it happens out of nowhere in Knit’s Island, it raises so many compelling questions: how do we know a player does not die himself when we see his avatar die? How can we tell the difference from the player being asleep? The fabric of the rules of our perception and interactions tears to pieces when confronted with such aberrations generated by virtual reality.

The film is not quite as convincing when its authors seek to direct the narrative through their questioning and commentary. What is said in those moments gets less interesting, and will reveal very little to anyone playing video games on a somewhat regular basis. In those moments Knit’s Island becomes more of a documentary about its filmmakers, and how they picture themselves as pioneers entering this other universe. And in a way, they are; even though there will certainly be more accomplished documentaries set up in virtual worlds, Knit’s Island will always matter as being among the first, to immerse in it, and bring back to us outstanding images and encounters.