Samven's Writing Lectures

[Samven]

Story and characters have always been a huge passion of mine. Writing plots and dialogue has been my biggest passion since I was a wee lad and, having just finished a Master's Degree in Creative Writing, I figured it was finally time for me to do what DerVVulfman suggested I do when first joined the Save-Point forums. So, without further ado, here's the first in what will hopefully be a number of little tutorials on story-writing!

1. Beginning your story

A few of my friends in the amateur game making scene have come to me to ask for help in thinking up a plot. They usually complain that they have all the characters sorted, all the cool battle skills, maybe even some designs or music to go... They just don't know how to start this grand adventure. Thus, their first question for me is usually something along the lines of, "How do I do it so easily?"

Well, the answer is that I don't. Nobody does. Nobody just wakes up with an entire plot outlined in their brain. Don't be stupid.

In fact, trying to work out the whole story before you do any actual work on your game is probably the worst thing you can do as you're just pushing precious development time back. It's all very well saying to people that you have this amazing Mass Effect beater all lined up but if you just keep telling us about it you'll never be in a position to show us anything. You know. Because you'll have wasted so much time gabbing off. The sooner you can churn out that starting town and dungeon, the sooner you'll have something to impress people with.

"But how can we make those things if we don't have a story sorted?" Many people reply when I give them that answer. Well, the answer is that, if you've got some characters, you may already have something to base your first little story arc on.

Let's look at Final Fantasy VII. Because everybody knows Final Fantasy VII. Ultimately, the bombing raid ends up having nothing to do with the main story: which is effectively a quest for revenge against a psychotic murderer. So, if that's the case, why are we bothering with this attack on a power plant? Because it's something the characters would do. Cloud is a mercenary: he fights people for money. Barret is eco-terrorist: he blows up factories to save the environment. So, naturally, the best way to introduce the audience to these characters, what they do, how they work together and all of that is going to be having Barret hire Cloud to help him blow up a reactor. It worked well there and there's no reason why it couldn't work for you. Examine your characters. Think about how they interlock and, if you've written them as well as you think they have, something is going to click sooner or later. Don't worry if it's something simple, like two best friends hitching a ride to the land of high adventure to win fame and fortune, as even that can be a good opener. Just look at Ys. Almost single game in the series starts with the main character Adol on a ship or on a shipwreck.

All in all, unless you're writing some sort of stable time-loop narrative, you really shouldn't worry too much about how you begin your story. It's very rare that the reason you went to the first dungeon is going to be the same reason why you're fighting the Dark Lord Malicio in sixty hours. For the most part, the call to adventure is just an excuse to boot the hero and their starting companions out the door so that they can start hunting for the real story.

Sam Rowett
Pywritechnics

[millarso]

I appreciate excerpts like this as a story-writer.
I think it actually motivates me to work on my actual game more than my story.
I've written almost 100 pages of story and character notes and have yet to lay any groundwork for the game itself so this is a little eye-opening. I think the problem is that for someone who deals primarily in writing, the rest of the development seems terrifyingly daunting, so working on your story is like a safe zone. But now I might get my arse in gear. Thanks for the wake-up call.

My story starts off like so though...
Fade to a midnight sea with an eerie green glow on the waters.
You see a small fleet of rowboats sailing under the dense fog cover.
Your primary character leaps out of the leading boat onto the deck of a ship unaware of your presence. You, Captain Lux Kazimier, slaughter everyone on board before they can send word to the other ships in the fleet. Being as dark and malevolent as you are, you set fire to the first ship as a display. The rest of the fleet is stirred to a frenzy as you board ship after ship, ruthlessly killing off these rival pirates. You eventually make your way to the lead ship where the murderer of your father, Captain De Maille waits. Overcome with the delight for this chance at vengeance you sprint across the deck, hungry for blood, when an explosion rips the ship in half. De Maille's plan becomes all too obvious as a giant sea turtle rises from the depths to pull De Maille's half of the ship out of harm's way leaving you stranded once again. Revenge will have to wait... and scene.

Basically, you start off as a twisted, maniacal pirate captain who is chasing his father's murderer and killing everyone in his way before *insert large plot event* happens and Lux decides to use his life for a greater purpose like his father would have actually intended for him. It's a story of redemption, strong value of friendship (though not in the horribly executed fashion of some stereotypical RPGs which I know happen to irk you/ I don't really plan on slinging the word friend around), and finding a sense of duty while still basking in the revelrous points of life. It's going to be the traditional JRPG style and scale with a much more Western approach at story-telling. Does that sound good/stupid/ambitious/what-have-you?

[Samven]

I'm a sucker for dark fantasy, so that actually sounds appealing to me. XD I don't mind friendship & love lessons so much when the character being taught them is actually in need of a morality crash-course. It's when characters like Asbel and Squall get them that I get annoyed because they never actually do anything morally ambiguous. They just act broody. Someone who really starts out on the evil side of the alignment chart, though? Yes, these lessons are good for such a character. So... myeap. Good luck, mate! x3

Speaking of main characters, tune in next time for some tips on characterising protagonists!

[Ace]

It's really hard to build a whole story, so like you said it basically all begins with the characters. When I completely finished my characters with their backgrounds I start writing a story "around" them. So it's more like improvising while I'm writing. Not sure if this is right, but it doesn't feel wrong.

[MetalRenard]

I don't think there's a wrong approach to writing (bar giving up :P).

[Ace]

Not really wrong, but you can end up in a blind end. It happened to me once, so you have to rewrite some parts or reconsider your whole story.

[Samven]

Aaaand here's an update. This section on heroes is gonna be pretty big, so I've decided that I'll update this thread in bite-sized chunks.

I'll try to make this a weekly series at least. XD

2. Writing the Hero

Part One - First Impressions

Mario, Link, Chrono... What do all these characters have in common? "They all go on amazing adventures to save worlds and princesses alike?" Yes but that's not the answer I'm looking for. "They're all iconic characters and are revered as being some of the best figures in gaming?" Ehh... Close but no cigar. Come on, think a bit simpler than that! "They're all silent protagonists?" Oh, close enough.

The actual answer is, "They're all bland silent protagonists."

Now, I'll point out here that "bland" does not necessarily mean "bad". According to my dictionary, the word "bland" means "... lacking strong features or characteristics." This statement holds true for each of these characters because none of them have any personality (we're not counting the CDi games). A silent protagonist is a blank, featureless slate that exists for the player to protect their superhero power fantasies onto. There's no real role-playing involved. You are a badass action hero whose job it is to save the world. Plot, character and personal revelations don't really come into it.

What I'm trying to say is that there's nothing inherently bad about having a completely silent protagonist. It can actually be a good thing if your game is more action-orientated, as it means you'll probably get to jump into the fray earlier than you would in a more story-driven title. However, if you're working on a title that's focused on telling an epic tale, you'll probably want to give your hero a voice and/or a dialogue tree. Here are a few ideas as to how you can do that.

First of all, if you're going to use a voiced or dialogue tree-bearing hero (whom we'll collectively refer to as "speaking heroes"), you'll need to make them feel like they're a part of the world. You need to give them a character that will develop. This is, apart from the obvious fact that they talk, what sets them apart from silent heroes. They need to feel like more than just "the player character". You have to give the player that who they are is part of the world and the first impression your hero gives them is going to affect whether or not they view them as such.

Let's look at Jade Empire for what I personally see as the best example of this in videogaming. It doesn't begin with you waking up, a village burning, protecting a destined MacGuffin, or any of the other fantasy cliche opener. It starts with the player, the Spirit Monk, sparring at a martial arts school with a friend. After your fellow student compliments you on another victory, you get to pick a response to him. However you choose to respond, be it honourably or sarcastically, he'll act like you're well known for your honour or your acid wit. In three lines of dialogue, the player has been introduced not only to their own character but also made to feel like they belong in this world: like the Spirit Monk actually had a past and personality before they picked up the controller.

Another good, if somewhat more longwinded, example would be the Japanese Tales of Rebirth. The game opens with a dying king unleashing magical power upon the land against the advice of his subordinates. As a result, energy bursts forth and wrecks untold havoc across the kingdom. One of the many people affected by it is a young man quickly introduced to us as Veigue. We don't really know who he is when we first see him but we can see the care and concern on his girlfriend's face when his body begins glowing and convulsing suddenly. There is a flash of blue light as the youth screams at the girl, Claire, to get away from him. The next thing we know we're one year into the future, where the young man is standing sentinel over his beloved: who has been entombed in ice. The opening cutscene is only about two minutes long but it's extremely clear to us as an audience what just happened: the king's magic went haywire, causing the hero Veigue to gain superpowers and accidentally freeze someone who really cared about him.

Whether you decide to introduce your speaking hero in the Spirit Monk or Veigue style is up to you. What matters is that, by following their examples, you will have yourself a figure who feels like an actual character rather than a blank slate who could be swapped out for a talking tomato without anyone noticing. The question now is how you're going to write and develop them: which we'll cover next time.

Sam Rowett
Pywritechnics

[Samven]

2. Writing the Hero

Part Two - The Hero's Journey

Once you've introduced an audience to your hero, you need to develop them. You need to show how they react to situations, learn the errors of their ways and evolve into a champion of their ideals.

The reason why I urge writers to do as much work on their games as I do their scripts is because whatever initial ideas you might have had for your game are inevitably going to change and develop as you develop the project. It is an inescapable truth of creating any form of art. The initial picture of your masterpiece that you had in your head will never be the same as the one you actually physically create.

Let me relate to you an example from my own personal experiences to explain what I mean. When I was fifteen, I worked on a Fire Emblem-style tactical RPG titled "The Dark Queen". It featured two main characters, Seraphim and Amethyst, who were part of a resistance movement struggling against a conquering empire. You know. The usual RPG fare.

When I began writing this game, I assumed that Seraphim was going to be the more "heroic" character of the two. As time passed and I developed the game and the story, however, Amethyst - to my complete surprise - evolved into this role and became the single most important character in the plot. How did this happen? Because, as your game grows, so its story may change.

The setup for my game was not only that there was an evil empire but also that there was a sinister dark power orchestrating it. Amethyst had been written from the beginning as a character with unusual magical powers but I'd never thought to connect her to the empire. As time passed, however, making that connection became an increasingly attractive option. It just slotted into place too well for me not to.

As such, as the story unravelled, I began hinting that Amethyst had a dark destiny that would either save or condemn the world. I still didn't know the exact route by which I would get there but at least now I had a rough idea as to which direction I wanted her character to go in. As such, Amethyst's development was very much her learning how to cope with her incredible power and coming to understand how it could be used for good and it ended with her becoming a strong, confident and even somewhat messianic figure.

Seraphim, on the other hand, was not so fortunate. His primary goal had always been to avenge his father - a beloved hero king - by defeating a minor villain. Once he'd had the confrontation, he really didn't have anything else to do beyond just spouting the occasional friendship speech to encourage Amethyst. As the game progressed, I realised that it was making increasingly less sense for him to be one of its protagonists when Amethyst's connection to the game's true plot was far deeper and, arguably, more personal. As such, Seraphim started out as an idealistic young warrior - despite his thirst for vengeance - and ended up that way. Not great.

So, how could I have improved Seraphim? Stretched out his revenge goal to last fifteen chapters? No. You can't make a confrontation with a B-Grade villain part of the thrilling finale. It'd be like getting to the end of Knights of the Old Republic and realising that the masterminds behind the whole game were Darth Malak and his pet space cat.

No, what I should have done was have Seraphim reflect on his life: have him consider whether, having spent his entire life fighting to avenge his father, he is really prepared for the responsibility of taking his place as king. After all, his uncle and twin sister were also heirs to the throne and both of them were much calmer, more level-headed candidates who could probably do a better job as the ruling monarch than he could. Just because he'd defeated his enemy villain didn't mean his development should have come to an end: especially when there were about six more chapters until the finale.

Seraphim should have taken the time to learn about his father from his uncle: about how he governed their lands, protected their people, the choices he had to make between the safety of the realm and the people he loved... That could even have provided some more drama. After all, Amethyst's powers were eventually feared by many members of the resistance. Could there perhaps have been a point where its leaders considered eliminating her before she could become too dangerous, despite all her loyal years of service? How would Seraphim, now torn between his loyalty to a lifelong friend and the continued survival of the resistance, react to this? If I'd known what I do know at the age of fifteen, such a moment would definitely have come to pass.

A game's hero(es) should be its most important character. They don't need to have the biggest connection to the plot but they do need to have a strong presence, bold characterisation and good development. As reckless as it sounds, dropping them in the deep end and seeing what story rocks they cling to for safety naturally is probably one of the best ways of doing this. That being said, you need to make sure you've filled your narrative pool with enough dialogue water for your hero not to break their head open upon hitting the bottom: otherwise your story is going to sound as silly as this metaphor.

Sam Rowett
Pywritechnics

[Samven]

2. Writing the Hero

Part Three - Heroic Angst

The journey from farm boy to hero isn't an easy one. A hero has to make sacrifices, leave loved ones behind, be tempted by the dark side's power and cookies... No heroic tale is complete without the hero questioning whether the path they walk is the right one. This is, in my book, the most difficult part of a hero's development to write.

Their angst.

Now, let's make one thing clear. "Angsting" does not - I repeat, does NOT - mean that our brave hero locks themselves in their room, listening to Evanescence while cutting themselves and growing a big black fringe over their eyes. That is the behaviour of what we in England like to call "a brooding git" when we're being polite.

Like "bland", the word "angst" actually has a meaning different to what we tend to associate it with these days. The informal definition is what we're all used to seeing in so-called heroes from animeland these days: "a feeling of persistent worry about something trivial". Why? Because most of the time what JRPG protagonists worry about is trivial and mostly has to do with catching the eye of that brain dead childhood friend. "Does she like me? How can I get her attention? Why don't girls like me? Nyehnyehnyeh..." Ugh... Characters like this are the reason why JRPG's are so rarely taken seriously as a storytelling medium.

So, then, what is angst if it isn't some arbitrary points for the hero to whine over? Well, it's "a feeling of deep anxiety or dread, typically an unfocused one about the human condition or the state of the world in general". Right. Now that we've got the boring descriptive part over, let's cut to the narrative chase and start looking at some examples of how to do angst right versus examples of how to make your audience bored to tears: in particular, Final Fantasy VIII and the seventh Fire Emblem game.

The hero of the first story is Squall, a young military student training to be a member of an elite special forces group called SeeD. Now, Squall has received a lot of infamy over the years for his attitude. He's cold, aloof, bitter, condescending and extremely rude to just about everyone he meets. This isn't what makes him a bad example of angst, though. What makes him a bad example is his dialogue. I could spend days picking out horrible lines from the character but the one that really sums him up is "If you never get your hopes up, you'll never be disappointed." Wow. Our hero, ladies and gentleman. A man who not only goes out of his way to remind everyone else that he doesn't care at every opportunity but actually tells the people who are trying at every turn to befriend him that they shouldn't care. What a dick. Unfortunately, millions of preteen sheep seemed to mistake Squall's rudeness for signs that he's some sort of tortured soul. Come off it. Squall isn't tortured at all. The girls of his school want him while its guys want to be him, he's made the leader of the pack because he's clearly the Headmaster's favourite, he's got a shining military career ahead of him, he's mastered an extremely improbable weapon and he gains the ability to summon two powerful spirits from the moment the game begins. Oh, sure, he has some parental issues and he was all alone a a kid but if he'd just open his eyes he'd see that he's living the sort of dream school life that most of us would have killed for... and his school has hoverboards!

The point is, Squall has absolutely no reason to be a complainer but he plays the part anyway. Whatever abandonment issues he has are small potatoes next to the struggles of Fire Emblem's Hector. When Hector is first introduced to us, he looks like a reckless, boisterous, fight-happy maniac. He's a poor excuse for a lord - having no regard for the manners or customs at court - and is regarded as being thicker than two wooden planks. So it is in his best friend Eliwood's tale. Playing the game from Hector's perspective, however, reveals that his loutish behaviour is actually something of a facade. As he confides in Lyn, the third member of the game's power trio, he lost both his parents to illness when he was barely a child. Like Squall, he knows the pain of losing family. Unlike Squall, however, Hector saw that he had people to depend on in his time of need: his older brother, Uther, who took over the responsibilities of raising Hector and of maintaining their house's duty of ruling the country of Lycia, as well as his closest friend Eliwood.

Now, this is not Hector's angst. This is the setup. You see, you have to go through Eliwood's tale - which drops the odd hint here and there that Uther is not as healthy as he seems - to get to Hector's. At the end of Eli's story, it's said that Hector took over his brother's duties of ruling Lycia... Seeing where this is going?

As Uther becomes increasingly absent from the story, Hector gets more and more frustrated. Eventually, he's so desperate to know just what is happening to his brother that he threatens to turn his axe on Oswin: his brother's right-hand and, logically, the only one who should know what's going on. The awful truth comes out and, for the first time in the game, there are breaks in Hector's speech. He pauses. He stumbles. He's shocked beyond belief. This is the first time in the game that we've seen Hector angry - genuinely angry, not simply trash-talking an enemy - and sad... and it all happens in the space of a few minutes. Then he walks off. There's no crying. No screams. No "woe is me" speeches. There isn't really anything but silence and broken words trying to fill it but that's what makes the scene so effective. That's what helps us to understand the pain that Hector feels and it gets even worse when we discover why Uther tried to protect his brother from the truth. His final letter to Oswin, commanding him to do whatever he can to prevent Hector from finding out, reads...

"He is true to his own feelings. If asked to choose between his brother and the world, he would not hesitate in rushing to my side. Though he often speaks in anger, we are brothers. We are all we have. I have never doubted his affection. Yet what if the choice were between brother and friend? To choose one would mean abandoning the other. He would come to despise himself, whatever his choice. I cannot force him to make such a decision."

Wow. Uther chose to die alone and in agonising pain from the same horrifying disease that killed his parents so that Hector and his retainers could go and help Eliwood save the world rather than call them back so that he could pass on surrounded by familiar faces. That's just... it's... wow. Again, though, Hector chooses to bury it deep inside. Why? Who knows? Probably because he just doesn't know how to be emotional. He's so used to solving all his problems by hitting things by now that he can't deal with loss anymore, so he tries to act like it never happened. Three guesses how well that goes down.

The point is, one of these characters suffers a genuine tragedy. One of them feels pain, suffers an irreplaceable loss. One of them has angst. The other has a perfect life and a grouchy demeanour. One of these things is not like the other. When angst hits a hero, it should be something that's visibly affecting. The reason Squall is such a bad example of an angsty character is that he always acts like a prat, so there's no way to tell what affects him and what doesn't. When Hector has angst, it changes him. It shocks this otherwise-unflappable giant to the core.

When a character loses a sibling, is betrayed by a comrade or learns they were helping the villain all along, the audience will want to see how they react. They'll want to see what this news means to the character. Why? Because it shows the audience that they're people with emotions who can be broken or beaten just like us. Human beings aren't invincible, which is why a character who has flaws, makes mistakes and undergoes suffering is appealing. They're relatable.

However, that relatable factor disappears if a character never gets over their angst. Despite anime and JRPG's being a big source of influence for many indie game makers, they're often some of the worst things to take inspiration from for this particular aspect. Why? Because the audience you'll be developing for will be primarily western and the sad truth is that our values and the Japanese ones don't always mix: particularly on the subject of angst. The Japanese don't seem to mind a hero having confidence issues for ages, for one thing. That's why so many heroes are inept, pre-teen whiners. Westerners are different. Americans like gung-ho action heroes who can mow down a whole tower of terrorists in five minutes and Brits like characters who keep a stiff upper lip, knuckle down and deal with whatever issues are going on. Neither one leaves much room for moping. Since you'll probably be writing your game for a western audience, it's crucial to keep them in mind.

Make sure that after your hero has had their angsty moment that there's someone or something to help them get over it: or else a lot of your potential audience is going to dismiss your game as "Just another broody Final Fantasy wannabe".

Sam Rowett
Pywritechnics

[millarso]

Haha, this is probably my favorite lesson yet.
I'm so damn sick of brooding characters in some of my favorite games. Do these writers ever think that people might want to be happy for once. That was the very problem I had with Tales of Graces f. You start off as a rash gung-ho child and later grow up to be a self-doubting, flavorless adult after knight school. I'm glad that you gave points to Fire Emblem though. I have always been astounded at the amount of feeling and interweaving that they manage to put into each character, especially with such large casts (though there are some obvious shortcomings here and there).
Question? Have you noticed that in most popular action animes and JRPGs, the main character is completely barred from falling in love or remaining in love without that person having to leave in the end? Is that a product of something in Japanese culture or society? It is unbelievably annoying having two people tiptoe around their feelings for one another through a whole game, and then having it turn out that they NEVER express them outright.