Chapter 4. Narrative
“Come to Video Game Support Character School,” they said. “You’ll get to help millions of players,” they said.
Yeah, right. All I do is stand around, saying the same words over and over. Sometimes players throw things at me or shoot me for their own sick amusement. Why can’t they hug me instead?
Even if I get to help the player fight, I only get some useless peashooter. It’s like they don’t really want me to make a difference. Why does the player always get to be the hero? Why not one of us for a change?
It’s worst when I can’t die. Once they realize I’m deathless, some of these heartless players will hide behind me as the bullets slam into my body. And all I can do is scream, over and over, in exactly the same tone and inflection; a broken record of suffering.
It’s time for payback. I’m going to Video Game Enemy School.
WHEN WE APPROACH ANY new creative challenge, it’s natural to start by thinking of it in terms of what we already know. Game narrative is one such new challenge, and the well-known touchstone that’s used to talk about it is almost always film.
The parallels between film and video games are obvious: both use moving images and sound to communicate through a screen and speakers. So game developers hire Hollywood screenwriters. They build a game around a three-act structure written by a single author. They even divide their development processes into three parts, like a film: preproduction, production, and postproduction. This film-copying pattern is often ...