Archive for category writing
Trudy’s Language
Posted by The Management in projects, writing on May 6, 2011
JRPGs, and by extension SRPGs, have an unfortunate tendency to use text as filler. Even with numerous types of fast-forward buttons — something of a band aid solution — their dialogue sequences are often very lengthy.
Luminous Arc starts off with roughly 150 text boxes. Such quantities are pretty common throughout the entire experience.
Verbal diarrhea is never necessary, though, and with Trudy’s Mechanicals we’re taking multiple steps to avoid it:
- Dialogue sequences are often optional. If the player doesn’t want to listen to a character, he can simply choose not to initiate the conversation.
- Colourful tid-bits are non-blocking. This means that if an enemy or an NPC wants to deliver a bark-style one-liner, it simply fades in and out. The text itself is aesthetic and doesn’t hijack the player’s interface, leaving him free to navigate the UI or issue battle commands.
- Cutscenes are short and to the point. Characters don’t prattle on if they don’t have anything interesting to say, and the player never needs to wait too long before he’s back in the “driver’s seat”. A skip option is also implemented as it’s an expected standard for those who are not interested in the story or might be replaying the game.
This less-is-more approach means that our script is much, much smaller than that of a typical tactics game. As a result, we’re taking extra care to make sure the language itself feels unique and interesting.
Here are some examples:
Slang
Planescape: Torment is famous for its cant, Victorian slang that adds personality to its setting. Seeing as Steampunk has its roots in a romanticized Victorian era, we decided to take a similar approach with Trudy.
A few examples of facial expression that accompany the text of Trudy's main characters.
Although it’s tempting to go overboard with jargon, it doesn’t help if the script can’t be understood by most people. Consequently the use of slang is somewhat conservative and the words we picked often have current-day connotations.
Here are some examples:
- Barker – A gun. Not immediately obvious, but easily grasped given proper context.
- Nibbed – Arrested. As in nabbed, or kidnapped. The word doesn’t have a strict association with the police, but its sentiment is easily understood.
- Lushery – A public drinking den. Lush isn’t a common term for alcohol, but this one was just too amusing to pass up.
Names
Naming characters in a fictional setting is a bit tricky. You typically want to steer clear of popular current-day names that might break the suspension of disbelief, e.g., Mike Smith or John Brown. On the other hand, something truly alien might prove too difficult to vocalize internally, while symbolic names like “Black Lightning” tend to come off awkward and hokey.
Of course we could’ve simply used Victorian era names, but I wanted to differentiate Trudy from typical Steampunk pulp.
Unlike the lead stars of the game, NPC dialogues are not accompanied by "talking heads". This is to save on production costs as well as prevent NPC barks from taking up too much space on the screen.
Our solution was to use old Greek and Slavic names.
The result is not entirely alien, but it’s enough to stand out. Characters are given names such as Renatus, Tatjana, Darko, Milos, Daria, etc., which keeps the naming conventions consistent and adds a bit of flavour to the world.
Proverbs
Finally, proverbs are my favourite trick for imbuing a setting with a sense of culture and history.
Proverbs are usually quite short, but they convey words of wisdom that often speak volumes about an entire society. In keeping with our naming approach, I picked out a couple of Greek and Slavic proverbs suitable to our script:
“Gray hair is a sign of age, not wisdom.”
“As long as a child does not cry, it does not matter what pleases it.”
“Eat and drink with your relatives; do business with strangers.”
The Unbroken Circle of Zerthimon
Posted by The Management in design, writing on April 3, 2011
Videogames are filled with conversations. These range from simple barks to deep and varied dialogue trees, but they’re fairly prevalent regardless of implementation.
And it makes sense, too. People like stories, and stories are built on characters.
Despite this fairly natural desire for dialogue, games used to be pretty devoid of conversations. This struck me as particularly odd in RPGs where groups of people set out on a quest to save the world. After all, one would assume the journey would foster some banter and comradery.
Cutscenes eventually filled the void, but it took a while for another mechanism to catch on: letting the player manually choose to speak to his followers.
Planescape: Torment was one of the first titles to do this, and its discussions on the Circle of Zerthimon remain one of my favourite examples of player-initiated dialogue.
Introduction
“No wonder my back hurts; there’s a damn novel written there.”
Planescape: Torment opens up with its scarred protagonist, The Nameless One (TNO), waking up in a morgue. A talking skull quickly floats by initiating a conversation.
The "cant" is a bit alienating at first, but it adds another layer of immersion to the setting.
We soon find out that Planescape: Torment is not afraid of being verbose. Dialogue is plentiful and it’s buffeted by descriptions, creating entire paragraphs that read like a novel. The Planescape cant — 19th Century British slang — adds further colour to the text.
Morte, the talking skull, informs us that TNO is effectively immortal as he resurrects each time he dies. The caveat is that he risks losing his memories whenever this happens, which is exactly how the game begins.
A Meeting at the Smoldering Corpse Bar
“Here? This is the Smoldering Corpse, though the person smoldering ain’t dead yet.”
TNO’s only clues to his past are rather vague; all he knows is that he’s missing a journal and should seek out a man named Pharod.
A motley crew at the aptly-named Smoldering Corpse bar.
Sigil is a wondrous city, but in some ways it’s not that much different from a typical fantasy hub. To get a few quick answers, the easiest solution is to visit the local tavern.
The gruesome Smoldering Corpse bar is filled with all sorts of interesting characters, one of whom is noted to be observing TNO. His name is Dak’kon, and he’s a withered old githzerai who wields a shimmering glaive.
Talking to Dak’kon reveals that his weapon, a karach, is shaped and sharpened by his mind. The karach represents a zerth, a follower of Zerthimon, but Dak’kon’s blade is somewhat degraded due to a spiritual crisis. The githzerai dwell in the ethereal world of Limbo, forging their surroundings from clear thought, so this is a fairly significant issue.
Unfortunately Dak’kon cannot answer TNO’s immediate questions, but when the conversation ends, he offers to accompany us on our journey.
Getting to Know Dak’kon
“This is his gallery. He says that he *knows* you as his canvas. He shows respect to your strength with his admiration.” Dak’kon is silent for a moment. “Then he insults you by giving you his pity.”
The initial conversation options with Dak’kon are limited, but talking to other githzerai in his presence reveals more about him. We pick up on the fact that Dak’kon’s sullen disposition is a result of what’s seen as a terrible disgrace by his people.
What’s more, Dak’kon is purposefully hiding things from us.
Fell's grotesque backstage gallery consists of TNO's moulted skin.
In the Weeping Stone Catacombs, TNO comes across a severed arm that once belonged to his previous incarnation. The arm can be taken to Fell’s parlour to ask the Dabus about the tattoos that adorn it. If Dak’kon is chosen to translate Fell’s rebus dialogue, TNO can detect that the seemingly honourable gith is actually lying.
When confronted, Dak’kon states that he will not say any more in the parlour. The issue can be pursued later on, at which point we discover that Dak’kon has actually traveled with one of TNO’s previous incarnations. This revelation leads to the rather unique Xachariah subquest that sheds more light on TNO’s own past.
Learning the Circle
“*Know* that I am not a teacher in this, but *know* that I can serve as a guide.”
When TNO asks Dak’kon about his magic — the ‘Art’ — the gith replies that he does not know how it manifests itself in humans. However, if TNO were able to use it, he could learn more of it from Dak’kon.
This is achieved by completing Mebbeth’s sidequests and becoming a mage. While a mage, TNO can study under Dak’kon, and also switch classes by talking to him.
“To learn, you must *know* the People. To *know* the People, you must *know* the Unbroken Circle of Zerthimon.”
The Unbroken Circle of Zerthimon is a device composed of a series of interlocking stone carvings. It’s a clockwork bible of sorts that Dak’kon carries with him wherever he goes.
Examining the Circle as a mage opens up a dialog box. Each level of the Circle tells a different tale of the githzerai race, its genesis, mass enslavement, and eventual rebellion. It reveals the rise of Zerthimon and the eons of suffering him and his people endured. The Circle teaches how the zerth came to learn and master themselves, and how enslavement became their greatest anathema.
“Endure. In enduring, grow strong.”
The full transcript of the Circle’s teachings can be found here, although it doesn’t contain Dak’kon’s and TNO’s commentaries.
Reading and learning the Circle comes across as a ritual; TNO must unlock each layer himself — as shown by Dak’kon — and talk to the gith after each session to discuss it. If TNO’s wisdom statistic is high enough, the proper lesson can be gleaned. This rewards the party with some experience, and a unique spell disk for TNO that magically slides out of the artifact without diminishing its weight or content.
Discussing the Circle in front of the Tomb for the Planes, it's finally revealed what plagues Dak'kon with doubt: he fears that Zerthimon was just a puppet of his enemies.
This pattern goes on for six lessons until it’s revealed that Dak’kon himself does not *know* the full Circle.
Teaching the Circle
“You performed a great service for me. In so doing, you enslaved me.”
With with the sixth layer, both TNO and Dak’kon receive a new spell. To unlock the seventh and eighth layers, TNO’s intelligence must be high enough to work the mechanism, and his wisdom high enough to understand the lessons themselves.
This is a nice transition of student-to-teacher, and ultimately rewards Dak’kon with some permanent stat increases. These in turn affect the karach blade, empowering it with each increment.
The lessons of the Circle also lead to the truth behind Dak’kon’s and TNO’s past.
The ruthless “practical” incarnation originally found Dak’kon close to death in the world of Limbo. He desired the karach blade, so he ensnared the gith in a devious trap. By constructing the Unbroken Circle of Zerthimon and speaking of its lessons, he showed Dak’kon a glimmer of hope to his spiritual ailment. In exchange, Dak’kon promised to follow TNO until his death, effectively becoming bound to the immortal for all time.
Although purely text-based, this was one of the most moving moments I had ever experienced in a videogame.
This enslavement constituted the greatest sacrilege for the zerth, yet it was the only salve for Dak’kon’s moribund soul. By completing the Circle, we finally brought him the resolution he so desperately craved.
Conclusion
“*Know* that there is now nothing left that I may surrender except my life.”
Although still bound to TNO, completing the Unbroken Circle of Zerthimon allowed us to strengthen Dak’kon’s body, mind and spirit.
The process also facilitated character development and character progression. It was meaty, and deep, and unfolded gradually as the game progressed. It sparked numerous discussion that are still ongoing to this day, and it’s held up as a prime example of what made Planescape: Torment such a compelling title.
And it was all for a completely optional character.
Localizing Exclamations
Posted by The Management in writing on July 30, 2010
“Gnhhh!”
“Whhhhaaaah!”
“Bah….ah….gahhhhhh…”
“Hmmmf!”
“Ehiehhh…”
“Mhaemm!”
These grunts, sighs, squeals and miscellaneous other vocalizations compose roughly 1/4 of the dialogues in the early hours of Final Fantasy XIII.
One one hand, they’re to be expected; Japan is known for its plethora of exclamations and onomatopoeiae. On the other — when translated literally — they make for a poor localization.
These sounds are often louder and longer than their English counterparts, or they simply have no equivalents. As such, they’re difficult to remove or replace and are usually left untouched. They’ve even become something of an accepted “quirk” among the more dedicated fans of Japanese media, but that doesn’t mean they couldn’t be handled in a friendlier fashion.
I think the localization team for FFXIII wanted to give Vanille a unique voice -- much like the Björk-esque Fran in FFXII -- but the voice actress' performance is a bit of a mess.
As things stand, vocalizations often come across as alien and awkward. They break the flow of conversation and the suspension of disbelief, and can leave a new audience feeling put off.
Sure, one can always argue for the purity and cultural authenticity of any given product, but that’s being a bit of a stick in the mud. Literal translations lack context and social nuances, and those fully familiar with them might as well experience the original versions. In order to make the products easily digestible by a different audience, though, some things need to change. FF XIII in particular is a title Square Enix wanted to be a global blockbuster, not just a Japanese game released to a niche audience outside of its home country, so it stands to reason that they’d want to iron out these kinks.
So how can this be done?
A couple of points:
- If possible, simply remove the exclamations altogether. The ones that could easily be cut are left in to keep things consistent and speed up the localization process, so getting rid of them shouldn’t be a big issue.
- Use local equivalents of the vocalizations if available. For example, make a character surprised by a hand on his shoulder utter a short “Huh?” instead of the original, “Mnhaaa?”
- Use actual words or sentences for sounds that have no local counterparts. A character crying out “Gwahhhhhhhhhhhh!” for three seconds after witnessing a car crash could easily be replaced with a quick “Oh my god!”
- Meld the exclamations into the speech itself. I’m not an expert, but I noticed many of the vocalizations were isolated within the dialogue, whereas in English they’d part of it, e.g., “Mmmm, I don’t know about thaaaaaaaat.”
- Finally, keep these points in mind when developing the game, and provide the team(s) with the tools necessary to port it. Automated lip-synching is already widely used, but I’m sure other functionality — or just the permission to alter the in-game cutscenes — would be appreciated.
Of course there are more issues to consider as well — perhaps toning down on the dramatic, clenched-fist poses with characters uttering such phrases as “I’ll do my best!” — but those are a whole other topic…
What a Twist!
Posted by The Management in writing on October 23, 2009
Fiction writers usually despise lists such as “The top 50 character archetypes!” The reason for this is that even the most meticulously pre-planned stories begin in the magical land of the imagination and continue to evolve until they’re completed. Appending these tales with stock concepts doesn’t really enhance them, and the end results often resemble poorly written soap operas.
In the spirit of poking a bit of fun at such things, here’s Aaron Diaz‘s 42 Essential 3rd Act Twists.
The "unreliable reader" and "stolen identity not worth it" are two of my favourites.
Also, for a more videogame-centric list of what keeps popping up in our medium, check out TVTropes’ videogame section.
-
You are currently browsing the archives for the writing category.
About
Hi, my name’s Radek Koncewicz, and I'm the Creative Lead of Incubator Games, a small development studio I started with a few former coworkers.
I think a lot about videogames, and when I find the time, I post those thoughts here on this blog.
Narrative Through Commentaries
Posted by The Management in writing on September 28, 2009
James Parker has an interesting entry in his blog that centers on sports titles and their play-by-play commentaries. James argues that games like FIFA 09 contain responsive narratives that come much closer to player-generated stories than anything else in the medium.
Is this a story? Well, technically, but that doesn't mean it's a great one.
Although there have been much more ambitious attempts at such systems, I’d have to agree that none have pulled it off quite as well.
Chris Crawford’s Balance of Power: 21st Century, for example, has a much grander scope than a typical sports game. The freedom it provides, though, tends to create expectations of an infinitely open experience that the game can’t possibly match. As a result, the initial play can be exhilarating, but the sensation quickly wears off when the player runs into a situation where he cannot do what he desires.
Of course the more focused nature of sports games isn’t their only advantage when it comes to telling dynamic stories. The games’ audience often recognizes and empathizes with the game’s cast: the athletes. Furthermore, the purely voice-driven commentaries inherently convey emotion and are easier to digest than text.
The emoticon-like faces help to add personality to the game, but the Madlibs effect is hard to ignore.
As was pointed out on Gim Crack’d, the Madlibs approach of Balance of Power just doesn’t come off quite as organic. Its phrasal templates are powerful, but not subtle, and their patterns are relatively easy to spot. The end results are robotic strings of text that look like a programmer’s debug output, i.e.:
“The [a] successfully captured [b] in [c].”
“Production of [x] increased by [n] during [t].”
As I’ve stated before, I’m more a fan of the game telling a story rather than it becoming a storytelling tool for the player. Still, commentaries can be — and have been for a long time now — useful in more crafted experiences. Their obvious boon is that they serve as a reward and an acknowledgement of the player’s actions. Beyond that, they can also be used to point out gameplay elements and encourage the player to reflect on the story.
JRPGs are notorious for their rudimentary and often entirely artificial choices, e.g., “Do you want to save the princess?” Chances are that no matter how many times you pick no, the game will keep asking you the same question until you choose “yes.” However, despite being a very shallow interaction, these moments serve to pause the narrative and remind the player that there is a princess that needs saving. Commentaries on the player’s actions — or inaction, for that matter — can be used in much the same way.
The protagonist of Aquaria also serves as its narrator, describing the backstory and commenting on events as they transpire.
What’s more, these commentaries can inform the player of the consequences of his actions, or just general plot points that might’ve been missed. In a way, it’s almost like having a short conversation with a friend while watching a movie; it can serve to fill in the gaps and provide a new point of view.
Whether linear or open-ended, and whether on a sporadic or a constant basis, games that have used commentaries were largely better for it. Just think of Guybrush Threepwood’s quips in Monkey Island, uppity Baldur’s Gate characters, the prince’s narration in Sands of Time, Alyx Vance’s feedback in Half-Life, the “barks” of Call of Duty team members, etc., all these titles would’ve been a lot more silent, dull and lonely without their great use of commentaries.
balance of power, commentaries, commentary, fifa, madlibs, narrative, narrator, phresal templates, play, sports, voice overs
No Comments