Ask the Expert ... Haden Blackman - Writing Video Games

Question: "How has the video game industry changed? What advice can you offer to people who want to write video games?”

Answer: Here’s what it used to mean to be a writer in the video game industry: You’re at a convention or someplace similar and meet another writer you respect for her work in television or film or comics. It’s a great conversation, you’re learning a lot and feeling proud of your profession, until you mention that you write for video games. To which she responds: “They actually hire writers for that?”

The reason for this response was simple: Historically, most game developers did not use traditionally-trained writers, relying instead on team members hired for their other talents to “pitch in” on writing chores. As a result the stories, story-telling, dialogue, and character development in most games was unremarkable at best.

Fortunately, publishers and developers are realizing that a strong story and story-telling can have a significant impact on a game’s critical and financial success. More and more often, teams are hiring trained writers, as either contractors or full-time employees. A handful of development studios have even created writing teams, not too dissimilar from the television model, with a head writer overseeing a permanent writing staff.

Still, we’re a long way from consistently delivering top-notch stories through video games. Some developers will argue that this is because the art form is still very young, and we’re constantly experimenting and learning as we go. There’s some truth to this, but I also think that even experienced game developers forget that (just like screenwriting), writing for games requires some understanding of what makes the medium unique: Interactivity. It’s so integral to every decision we make that we sometimes take for granted how it changes traditional story structure and story-telling.

Here are a few hard-won lessons about what interactivity means to video game writing:

Every game needs two inter-connected themes. Every great story has a strong central theme, but I’ve also learned that games need two complementary themes. The first is the gameplay theme, which maps closely to the game’s genre. This theme answers the question: “What is the player doing most of the time?” Shooting bad guys? Driving fast? Blowing stuff up? Exploring? Talking to people? Whatever it is, this is the aspect of the game that is the highest priority for the game developers and where they invest most of their ideas, energy, and polish time. The best game stories reinforce this theme and give the player a very compelling reason to experience the core gameplay throughout: A game that is indeed about “shooting bad guys” will give us bad guys we want to shoot, a hero in a situation so dire he has no recourse but to shoot his way out, and a primal and relatable end goal that both the hero and the player want to reach.

The second theme is the traditional “story theme.” Just like in films, the best game stories present us with challenging questions through their themes: Do the ends justify the means? What’s the price for redemption? Who am I? This theme can (and should) be integrated into the moment-to-moment gameplay at every turn. But this can only be done if the theme can be clearly articulated by the developers.

The Player is the Hero, but the Hero still needs flaws. Ultimately, a game’s story is also the player’s story. In games built around a single protagonist, it’s essential that the player identify with the main character. Many games “solve” this by making the main character a recognizable stereotype or an “empty vessel” with a very generic personality. The belief is that these types of characters are “safer” for the player to inhabit than a character who might be at odds with the player’s personality. But a character with no flaws can’t undergo any transformation, which is the crux of every story. I’d argue that identification can be better achieved by creating likable characters with relatable motives and flaws we recognize in ourselves and others. This should sound familiar – this is basic screenwriting 101 stuff. Unfortunately, developers often default to the “empty vessels” because they’re (theoretically) less risky.

Another approach is to craft an experience or story that forces the player to face and overcome his own flaws. This is easier in multiplayer games, where real people can react to the player’s good or bad behavior and choices. Using virtual versions of ourselves, we may find it easier to recognize and face our own greed, cowardice, petty jealousy, anger, and other flaws.

Don’t confuse story and story-telling. Game developers are becoming increasingly good at crafting cinematic moments within games, triggering events and story moments based on the player’s actions. A plane crashing right in front of you, a monster jumping out at just the right moment, a character who screams uncontrollably after you shoot someone close to her… These are all essential for creating a sense of immersion, bringing a setting to life, and conveying a story, but they are not the story itself. Without a strong plot, compelling central conflict, and characters we can care about, there are few reasons for a player to continue through this collection of set-pieces and surprises. How a player defeats an enemy is important, but so is the why, and it’s the why that can keep some players motivated to see a game through to the end.

Award-winning video-game writer Haden Blackman has spent the last 12 years as director/producer at LucasArts Entertainment, where he currently leads three separate teams of designers, engineers, and artists in telling new interactive stories. Last year, Blackman received awards for outstanding videogame writing from both the WGA and Academy of Interactive Arts & Sciences for his work on Star Wars: The Force Unleashed. He has also written dozens of comic books for Dark Horse Comics, numerous videogame stories and scripts, and several books for Random House and Del Rey.