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Level-up your game – with story!

I was recently asked to give a short talk on two of the three subjects I know best: games and writing. (Sadly, no one wants to hear about my third area of expertise: Batman trivia.)

Since I had an hour to prepare, I threw some notes together before speaking, to reduce the amount of inevitable “Um… oh, and one more thing,” common to whenever I try to just wing it. My resultant ramblings were coherent enough to keep me from being lynched or booed from the stage, so I figured I’d share the notes here before throwing them away, in hopes of spreading some wisdom.

Um… oh, and one more thing. I should mention that these were mostly written about video games, though they can apply nearly as well to tabletop games too.

The Role of Story in Games

Story is to games what ketchup is to French fries.

You don’t need it, but it makes the experience that much better. French fries are still good without ketchup, but ketchup can really bring out the flavor of the fries to raise them to the next level.
It can’t save a bad game. If the fries taste like soggy, grease-soaked twigs, drenching them with ketchup won’t make them taste any better.
A little goes a long way. If you drown your fries in ketchup, you won’t taste them at all. All you get is one mouthful after another of pure condiment. That might be okay if that’s what you’re looking for (they’re called “visual novels,” they aren’t really games, and you can find them in aisle six), but if you’re selling the customer delicious French fries… go easy on the red stuff.

In games, story plays its role by performing three main jobs: attract players, provide context, and create a connection.

Attracting Players

Stories sell games. When I know nothing else about a game, it is its story that pulls me in. It’s the story that dictates the art on the box front, the blurb on the box back, or the icon in the app store. Players will come for the story and stay for the gameplay. Again, it’s not absolutely necessary (Bejewelled has zero story, but seems to be selling just fine), and it’s won’t guarantee a sale, but if it convinces a player to click the link or pick up the box when he otherwise wouldn’t, then the story is doing its job.

Providing Context

Stories tell the player why he’s doing things in the game. Why am I trying to stop this train? Oh, because the President’s daughter is aboard, and it’s going to crash in 60 seconds. Why am I killing 10 rats? Because rat spleen is a key ingredient in the shaman’s secret health potion recipe, and he always needs more spleens.

(Tabletop Note! This is especially important in board games to keep them from being too abstract. Why am I moving the blue cubes from this space to that space? Because the cubes are medical workers, preventing an outbreak of clown flu in that space. Of course, if you want to go abstract, there’s a market for those types of games too.)

Creating a Connection

Story can help create an emotional connection between the player and the game’s characters. This is hard to pull off. (Some would even say it’s impossible, but I’d point to an army of cos-players who say otherwise.) The point of creating a connection is to deepen the player’s experience, and to raise the emotional stakes within the game. And if all story is useless ketchup, this stuff is the utterly unnecessary ultra-fancy dijon ketchup brewed by monks in the Himalayas and brought in by helicopter.

Time’s Up; Move On

Games don’t need story. But games with story can be better (more fun, exciting, and memorable) than those without. Used wisely, story can take your game to the next level. And isn’t that what we all want? Second-level French fries!

If you have your own notes, please post ‘em in the comments. I love to see other folks’ take on the subject.

Through a Crystal Darkly

We hadn’t intended to watch The Dark Crystal. We’d been looking for The Neverending Story, or possibly something with monkeys, to watch for an impromptu Family Movie Night, but Netflix Streaming was, once again, failing us. So we picked the weird-but-technically-family-appropriate 1982 fantasy film, The Dark Crystal.

My daughters were dubious.

“What is this?” asked Thing Two, in the same tone of voice she uses when she finds something on her supper plate outside the regulation nuggets and noodles.

“It’s cool,” I said. “It’s got adventure, and magic. And puppets.”

“This looks seriously creepy,” said Thing One. At ten, she recognizes creepy when she sees it.

Menacing Muppets

Thing One is right. The Dark Crystal is a seriously creepy-looking movie:

The vulturous, skeletal Skeksies are pure nightmare fuel, and could only be more horrifying if you gave them clown noses and a key to your house.
The giant beetle-like Garthim are, well, giant freaking beetles that can apparently smash through any wall like hideous multi-legged Kool-Aid men.
Even our alleged hero Jen (who is, by his own admission, not very good at his job), is an early settler of the uncanny valley: his movements say he’s human, but his weird muppet-goat face says he’s definitely not.

Thing Two dealt with this tidal wave of creepiness by wandering into another corner of the room, turning her back to the TV, and firing up some game apps on her mother’s Kindle Fire.

Her older sister stuck with it. “This is really creeping me out,” she said. “But I can’t stop watching.”

Lessons of the Dark Crystal

After thinking about it, I realized the movie’s real problem is not that it’s creepy, but that it’s inaccessible.

Consider:

It starts with two minutes of voice-over explaining the background, while we’re shown images of a weird, alien landscape.
The first scene with actual characters in it features the Skeksis getting crystal-powered energy beams blasted into their eyes. This is apparently a good thing.
We don’t even meet our hero (the closest thing the movie has to a relatable human character) until ten minutes into the movie, after having our minds blown and eyes seared by Jim Henson’s circus of animatronic horrors.

It’s okay if your story and world are creepy or weird. But you need to transition to that space from the mundane world. Don’t throw the audience into the deep end. Lead them gently down the stairs at the shallow end of the pool, giving them time to adjust and become immersed.

Or, to abuse a different metaphor, don’t smash them through the wall like a Kool-Aid man, but usher them through a door in the form of a relatable character or situation. Your audience will thank you for it. And your story’s wall will remain more structurally-sound.

World of Conflict

How can something be utterly fascinating and yet boring? When there’s no drama, no suspense; when there’s no conflict.

I’ve seen my share of nature documentaries. (“Look, kids! Lemurs!”) I’ve yet to see one that’s just a recitation of facts and figure, presented in conjunction with supporting images on the screen. (“The lemur is found on three continents. It can kill with its eyes. It eats the following insects: ants, beetles, cockroaches…”)

Instead, it’s always a story. It’s always the same story (baby animal survives predators and other hardships to grow into an adult and have its own adorable animal babies), but it’s a story all the same.

Most importantly, it’s a story with conflict:

Lemur versus cannibal siblings!
Lemur versus hard winter!
Lemur versus potential mates who just need some time to find themselves, thanks anyway for trying!
Lemur versus lemur-eating pterodactyls!

My point is this: Facts without conflict can engage you on an abstract, intellectual level. But inject some drama into those facts, and now they engage you on the visceral, emotional level as well.

Without conflict, you know. With conflict, you care.

This matters a lot when it comes to world-building.

Whether for fiction or games, if you’re building a new world, that world should engage the audience on an emotional level. You’re not just describing the setting, you’re selling it. If you want the audience to buy into your world for an extended period of time, you need them to care about it. There needs to be conflict.

I’m preaching to myself here, folks.

I love world-building. I enjoy putting twists on familiar tropes, piecing together the elements in a way that makes logical sense yet is something we haven’t seen before. (“The elves live in a vast network of underground caves that they carved out with their own acidic saliva! Now I’ll write up a dozen elven rituals based around acid spit!”)

But too often, when I’m done, what I have is fascinating, but boring. Guided by my words, the reader could fit in very well with the acid elves (for example)… but he wouldn’t want to. Because there’s no conflict. Because the world is boring.

And that, brothers and sisters, is why we have second drafts.

Now the elves are split into factions, and squabble over acid-spit religious differences. They compete for space and food in the caverns with the acid-dwarves, who claim the underground as their ancestral right. A sub-group of elves is born without acid glands and prefer to live on the surface. They’re rejected as traitors by most but secretly worshiped by others.

Now it might be exciting to hang out with these guys. Now I want to roll up an acid-elf character, or read about the adventures of an acid-elf zealot. Now there’s drama.

Now it’s not boring any more.

Have tips to make world-building more exciting? Share them in the comments, and we’ll all be a bit wiser.

This Eight is Super, These Games are Hungry

As a rule, I don’t do reviews on this blog. I figure that since negative reviews are a lot more entertaining to read and write, I’d probably just end up churning out churlish snark, which (a) isn’t really fair to the media creators, and (b) gets a little old for the readers. So really, I’m not being lazy by avoiding reviews. I’m doing everyone a favor. You’re all welcome!

I do, however, provide recommendations. If I play, read, see, or hear something cool, I’ll pass it along. (So my Shark post was actually a recommendation to go read some good REH Conan, not a review of the book. Honest.)

This week, I’d like to recommend the movie Super 8. It sets out to capture of the feel of a 1980s Spielberg movie, and does so beautifully. The kids are great protagonists on par with those from The Goonies, E.T., or Stand By Me. The alien gives the movie the same sense of creepy wonder you get from Poltergeist or Close Encounters. And the dialog was authentic, funny, and very well performed.

I would also like to recommend Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins. I’ve been hearing about this book (and its two sequels) for a while now, but finally got a chance to read it, via audiobook CD, while driving around the country with my wife. If you haven’t heard of it, the gist of the book is this: in the crappy future, kids are forced to fight to the death for the entertainment of their evil overlords. Our hero is one of those kids.

The book is smart. The author does a great job of seamlessly integrating just enough exposition to keep you going, while holding back enough to keep you curious. She also makes her characters smart. More than once, when the book provided a problem and my wife or I thought of a clever, not-so-obvious solution (like gamers often do), within a page, the characters had thought of it too. Like I said, smart.

How about you? See any good movies lately? Read any good books?

Time Enough for Fun

I made the comment on Facebook that, for a guy without a job, I sure haven’t been playing much World of Warcraft.

That was three weeks ago. I still haven’t loaded the WoW client. I simply don’t have the time.

I’m not complaining. Far from it. I consider myself blessed to have enough colleagues, contacts, and creativity to keep me too busy with paying work to have any time left over for grinding my way through Azeroth. And yet…

On a certain professional level, I should be playing more games (video and otherwise). I’m seriously considering setting aside 30 minutes a day to simply play. But if playing games is just another bullet on my eternal to-do list, will it still be fun? Or does it become drudgery, such that while I’m playing through Portal 2, I’ll be thinking, “Man, I wish I was outside pulling weeds.”

Guess we’ll find out. I’ll let you know.

A World of Adventure

It occurred to me this week, between juggling three projects and defending my home against a particularly aggressive woodpecker (Seriously! The beast put a 3″ diameter hole clear though the siding in a single morning!), that I haven’t yet blogged here about my upcoming Karthador venture that was announced last week.

Here’s the announcement from my good friends at Reality Blurs, in which Sean says some lovely things about me and the world of Karthador. The TL;DR version is this: Karthador is a new science-fantasy world that I’m developing, and Reality Blurs will be publishing as part of their line of tabletop roleplaying books.

Karthador is a setting I’ve been working on, on and off, for five or six years now. I ran an RPG one-shot there, then designed a board game around it (never published; I should try to get that prototype back), and even wrote a short novel based in the setting. And each time I’ve visited the world, I’ve found my imagination set ablaze with all of its adventure potential. Dinosaurs! Super science! Air ships! Exclamation points! Once I found myself without a day job, it seemed the perfect opportunity to kick Karthador development into high gear and start looking for a commercial outlet. I’d been thinking of pitching it as an RPG to Reality Blurs, and when Sean called, it felt like providence.

We don’t have a timelime yet — at least, nothing we’ll commit to in public — but I’ll keep you posted here and Sean will make announcements on the Reality Blurs site as we get closer to announcing product and release dates. In other words, don’t hold your breath, but do bookmark Reality Blurs.

If you need me, I’ll be in the western wastes of Karthador — right after I go another round with this stupid woodpecker.

Past Tension, Future Perfection

A week ago, I decided to do something about the pile of unedited novel manuscripts slumped on my hard drive, staring up at at me with their sad puppy-dog eyes. I publicly proclaimed that I would take one of these neglected beauties out, give it solid re-write, and try to find it a good home.

The first step to rewriting is to do nothing. Just let the text lie fallow for a while so you can gain some distance and come at it as a reader, not as the person who just poured blood into every word on the page.

Since the printout of the manuscript I chose has literally been sitting in a box in the basement for the past year, I think it’s safe to say, in regards to the first step, “Check.”

The second step (for me, at least) is to do pass on the general writing. Yes, we’ll fix a few typos and spelling mistakes here, but it’s mostly about sentence structure and word choice — steps 3 & 4 from the guide I posted last week.

When I pulled the manuscript from its temporary tomb, I was surprised to see that it was already covered in pen marks. Had I already started this step? I thumbed through the whole thing: there was blue ink all the way to the end. Thank you, Past Me!

But when I got to the computer, I realized that Past Me was a lazy editor who had marked up the hard copy, but never actually implemented any of the changes. As it turns out, this is actually a good thing. Instead of moving on to the next step, I have to carefully re-read the manuscript for the first time in a year in order to insert the edits from the printout. This has led to finding things to fix that Past Me overlooked (that incompetent buffoon!), but this time I’m putting them straight into the soft copy.

That’s where I am at the moment. I’m about a quarter of the way through the manuscript, and have been pleasantly surprised at how not-terrible it is. I do fear that I have too many characters (when the text literally says, “…and there were two others, but she couldn’t even get their names” you might have a problem), but that’s what the literary device is for: killing darlings.

But I’m nowhere done yet. Anyone have any good rewriting links? Tips from your own past self? Words of wisdom shared by ethereal beings that came to you in a dream? I’ll take it all!

After the Writing, the Real Work Begins

I’m not the best at rewriting. It’s not that I’m so impressed with my own words that I’m loathe to change a thing, it’s just that I’m sick of looking at them. I’ve got three NaNoWrMo manuscripts sitting here, all done, all waiting for me to rip the skin from their flesh and start rearranging their vital parts, but just thinking about it makes me feel tired.

Yes. I know. Lame. Lame. So very lame.

I am ashamed.

Why do I share this shame with you, you may ask? So that by doing so, I may publicly commit to rewriting one of these things such that I can submit it for publication confident it won’t make some poor intern’s eyes bleed. Since I suddenly have a lot more time for such things, I really have no excuse not to dive into the rewriting process.

But I won’t be going on this adventure alone. Oh no, I’m taking you with me! Along the way, I’ll be pointing out tips and hints I’ve found useful, holes I’ve fallen into, and any dubious tricks I discover to make the journey a little less painful.

The first helpful thing I’d like to share is 10 Steps for Editing Your Own Writing on the Daily Writing Tips page. It’s a good overview of the process, and I like the idea of looking at the manuscript one part of speech at a time.

How about you, dear reader? Any great tips to share? Any links? Any words of encouragement to your fellow rewriters?

The Pregnant World of Rango

Saturday morning, my wife and I rounded up the young’uns and drove the herd over to the theater to see Rango, the new CG animated film that Nickelodeon’s been flogging between episodes of Spongebob and iCarly for the past six weeks. Perhaps you you’ve heard of it? Directed by Gore (Pirates of the Caribbean) Verbinski? Starring Johnny (oh, most everything) Depp? No? Then follow the link above; I’ll not be doing a synopsis here.

It was, as the critics have said, a good movie: great story, great characters, great action, funny bits to spare, and with just enough Deep Thoughts to give it a vaguely mythic quality.

In fact, as we left the theater, part of me was just a little bit sad to leave the world of cowboys and talking animals behind. I was intrigued. I wanted to learn more about Rango and his friends. Yes, the story had a satisfying conclusion, but there were still questions unanswered:

What did happen to that girl’s father? Or those brothers reportedly killed off-screen?
What are the villain’s cronies going to do now? For that matter, what’s the deal with the slithery heavy?
(Yes, I’m being vague, trying to avoid spoilers. You’re welcome.)
What of the villain’s project? How did that get started in secret? What happens to it now?

These questions, this sense of intrigue, the pop-culture craving to more fully immerse myself in this world — these are all indications that Rango is situated to be a great transmedia property.

Trans-what Now?

“Transmedia” is a hot buzzword right now, with multiple, occasionally conflicting definitions. For my purpose, I’m defining a transmedia property as one that allows connected stories to be told across multiple media platforms.

Star Wars is the classic example. You’ve got the movies, sure, but all those other books, comics, and games expand the world beyond the movies and tell hundreds of other stories — which are all related to both each other and to the setting as a whole.

On the other hand, Twilight is not a transmedia property. Neither is Harry Potter. While they’re both terrifically popular properties, with lots of licensed merchandise, none of those other products expand the world or tell more stories. The movie tells the story of the book. The Lego playset tells the story of the book (as defined by the movie). The officially-licensed tattoo your mother got across the small of her back is a painful reminder of the story of the book.

Back at the Ranch

With its interesting setting, characters, and conflict, Rango is swollen to bursting with story potential. It’s a pregnant property, its transmedia water ready to break. So let’s see how how the fine folks behind the property are exploring this (warning: pretentious term coming up) story-space.

Rango: The World - Okay, this is really cool. It’s a browser-based, kid-friendly, mini-MMORPG based on the movie. You create your own character and explore the world, doing quests and playing minigames. From the 20 minutes I’ve spent messing around in it, I’d guess there are some new stories here — and since it’s a multiplayer game, players can create their own Rango-based stories (which some transmedia folks say is a key ingredient in keeping the audience engaged).

Rango: The Videogame – Available for the three main consoles, I was ready to write this off as “tie-in merchandising” rather than an extension of the world, but the reviews I read talked about the crazy new stories in the game. Something about meteorites and aliens. There was none of that in the movie, I assure you, so I’ll have to say there’s some new story here.

And… that’s it. Yes, there is the novelization. And the children’s serial novelization, in which they cut the movie up into three different books to be read in sequence. But this isn’t new story; it’s just the movie’s story with more words and fewer pictures.

My Unsolicited Transmedia Advice

You’re dropping the ball. This money here? You’ve left it. It’s lying on the table, looking up at you with lonely, Geico eyes.

Where are the comics? The “further adventures of Rango” books? The CG web-shorts starring that adorably psychotic little girl lemur (or whatever she was)? The one-shot web-comic, available exclusively at Nick.com, taking us into the world of those hillbilly moles (updated every week, and surrounded by ads for upcoming shows and movies)?

Maybe it’s coming. Maybe the powers that be wanted to make sure the movie was a hit before announcing the various ways they’re expanding the property. Fair enough. If that’s the case, my daughters and I will be there, money in hand, ready to revisit Rango and the glorious town of Dirt.

Don’t make us wait for the sequel, folks.

Final Amber, Final Stone

This is it. The final installment of the pulp fantasy story Amber and Stone is here for your reading pleasure. Maybe you’d like to take a moment.

Breathe it in. Savor the flavor of the last adventure-soaked page.

Perhaps you’d like to read the previous installments again (or for the first time) to capture the full experience of reading the whole story. Before you dive once more into the unnamed world of bounty hunters and magic rocks, I’d like to say thank you for joining me on this journey. It’s been fun, and I hope we can do it again soon.