Learning normally comes from interaction with environments.
We learn by acting in the world and receiving feedback from it. We touch something hot and pull our hand away. We make a decision and experience the consequences. Every interaction triggers physiological responses in the body and brain that we experience as emotions. Those responses, as we’ve seen, carry important information and also trigger the biological processes that lead to learning.
Simulations do not involve direct interaction with a real environment. Yet they still make learning possible because they provide an interface that allows us to interact with a constructed reality and have an experience we can learn from.
For example, a flight simulator presents virtual scenarios primarily through images and sound. On their own, these would simply be representations. What makes it possible to learn through them is the interface. The cockpit, with its controls, instruments, and feedback systems, allows the pilot to act within the simulated environment. Every input produces a response. Every decision has consequences. The pilot is no longer observing a situation but participating in it. And that participation creates an experience the pilot can learn from.
So what about stories? If stories act as simulations, how do they create the kind of interaction that turns fiction into experience and experience into learning? With stories, there are no levers to pull or buttons to push. There is no control panel or joystick.
Instead, the interface is identification. We, as audience, step into the characters’ shoes and experience events as if they were happening to us.
But here’s the key point: simply seeing and hearing what a character does is not enough. For identification to happen, the audience must experience the protagonist’s emotional journey first hand.
Think of it this way: if you experience an emotion and its accompanying physiological response while watching a film, then, as far as your brain is concerned, you are having a real experience. The moment that happens, you stop watching the character and begin living the story through them.
At this stage, we need to clear up an important distinction. Two terms are often used interchangeably even though they describe very different processes: empathy and identification.
They’re related, but they’re not the same, and that difference matters for storytelling.
Empathy is an immediate emotional resonance with another person. You can think of it as a biological echo. It is facilitated by a specialised group of cells called mirror neurons.
When someone acts or experiences an emotion, cells in their brain fire up that make that action or emotion possible.
With mirror neurons, something interesting happens. As we watch the other person, those same cells partially fire up in our own brains. The only difference is that we don’t get to perform the action or fully feel the emotion. Instead, these cells firing in our brain help us understand what the other person is doing or experiencing. It’s effectively as if we were watching ourselves in a mirror.
This makes sense. It helps us predict someone’s intentions. For example, if there’s a knife on a table and we see someone move their arm, our mirror neurons help us understand that they intend to pick it up. We can then look at the context and decide whether we should be worried or whether we can just relax.
The same thing happens with emotions. Recognising that someone is angry or sad helps us adjust how we respond to them.
This forms the basis of empathy.
The key thing to understand is that this process is typically triggered by perception. When we see or hear another person expressing emotion, our system echoes that response automatically.
Empathy is fast. It happens almost before we are aware of it. And it happens in the now.
Identification is a different ballgame.
It relies on alignment with another person’s meaning-making system and requires understanding how they interpret reality.
We identify with someone when we understand how the world makes sense to them.
All humans share a common mental architecture. We form beliefs, pursue goals, and try to make sense of the world in similar ways. Our lives may differ enormously, but we all understand what it means to want something, to strive for it, and to experience success or failure as a result.
Because of this shared architecture, identification can extend remarkably far. We can identify with almost any human, provided we understand where they are coming from. We can identify with a criminal, a morally flawed person, someone culturally different, or someone socially alien — as long as their reasoning is legible to us.
To bring this home, let’s put it this way: you can empathise with a dog, but you can’t identify with it.
Why?
Dogs are mammals like us. They possess the same physiological apparatus responsible for generating emotions. When a dog shows fear, excitement, or distress, our mirror neurons automatically echo those emotional cues. We recognise what that state feels like, and that allows us to empathise with it.
But identification is different.
We cannot truly identify with a dog as a dog, because we do not share its way of interpreting the world. We simply do not know what it is like to be a dog — and never could — because its brain organises reality in a way that is fundamentally different from ours. They do not have the same survival needs we do or aspirations as humans.
Yes, we can write stories with dogs as protagonists. But those stories work only because we personify the animal and give it human thoughts, motivations, and language.
There is one final difference between empathy and identification, and it has to do with time.
Empathy happens here and now. Identification involves more of a process.
Empathy is fast and automatic. It is triggered by perception. You see someone cry, and you feel something immediately.
Identification, by contrast, requires understanding — goals, context, motivations, and the character’s interpretation of events. That understanding unfolds gradually as information accumulates over the course of a story.
So empathy is instant resonance, while identification is gradual alignment.
Each does a different job, but both are essential to character arcs and catharsis.
Â
I need to mention the need for reaction shots because of the above
Learning requires interaction. In a flight simulator, the cockpit is the interface that turns virtual images into a "real" experience. In a story, identification is the interface that allows us to "pilot" the character's journey.
For the brain to hit "record," it needs physical proof of significance. Emotions are the haptics of story.When you feel the character's physiological response, your brain stops "watching" and starts "living" the simulation as if it were real.
These are two distinct processes used to bridge the gap between audience and character:
Empathy is instant resonance (perception-based), while identification is gradual alignment (logic-based). A successful story uses both to turn pixels on a screen into a lived experience in the audience's brain.