Some time ago, Bioware held a writing contest in which community members were encouraged to submit modules that highlighted their skills as writers. I can’t imagine just how many submissions they received, but I can imagine how many of them were automatically turned down – probably close to 80%, if not more. So out of every 10 submissions, only 2 would actually progress to be judged by the merit of their story, characterization, and other elements that make up effective writing. And the issue wasn’t with the quality of the writing or inappropriate submissions or weak grammar and spelling, though I’m sure a fair number of submissions were rejected because of those reasons, as well. The problem was that most of the writers submitting modules were writing them as though they were writing a novel or at best, a movie script.

Post-contest thoughts from Kevin Barrett echo my theory:

Far and away, the contest guideline that was overlooked more often than not was the suggestion that the player should feel like he is in control of the conversation, and by extension, the story. This has to do with a player’s desire to direct the unfolding of an adventure. It was often the case that a contestant would create a very interesting story, but then put the player in the position to peripherally explore or “observe” the unfolding of that story without actually “living” it or caring about it. Such stories were often characterized by several consecutive single-option exchanges between the player and NPC. This stymies ownership of the story by the player and rarely feels heroic.

Currently Bioware is seeking writers for their Austin-based studio, and considering that they have made a public plea on Penny Arcade and a couple other sites, their search has turned up another vast majority of submissions that were written in a very linear style. And while this may be fine for console RPGs like the Final Fantasy series, computer RPGs have always, with few exceptions, offered the player diverging paths and over-arching choices that affect the game on both small and large scales. The best CRPGs make the player feel as though he is playing a role and his choices within the game world truly do affect it. The player doesn’t see all of the branches and banks of code that progress and converge into paths that are, when you look under the hood, mostly linear. The game is able to immerse him in such a way that he believes he is charting his own course in unfamiliar territory. When a game can convince a player of his own importance in the world, despite the underlying code proving otherwise, that is truly the mark of a great game writer.

Now, you may be reading this and probably think my ego has received so much stroking that it no longer tingles during stimulation, so let me just clear that right up by saying that I am very much a beginner at game writing and the current state of my demo module’s script would go into the reject pile because of its linearity. But this is something I will be fixing, to the best of my ability, and until my fingers act of their own accord and give me a rude gesture before going on strike.

Those of you who know me will know that I have been working on a story idea called Ties of Vengeance for a rather long stretch of time. I have also undergone the process of adapting that story to a game concept. Now, the first thing to know about the game industry is that a.) they don’t accept submissions of game concepts from outsiders and b.) by the time you might have the possibility of getting your game concept turned into a production cycle you will have been in the industry for 30 years and by that point the whole thing will be moot. However, I’ve been using the concept to flesh out my portfolio, and I figured I’d use it for the required demo module for the writing position. I have begun writing the script for Ties of Vengeance: Chaotic Justice, a 15-30 minute module in which the player acts as the defense representative in a trial. It was a great opportunity for me to not only show a large range of dialogue, but to experiment with dialogue as a means of gameplay.

There is a great deal of choice already in the script; the player basically chooses a certain conversational path after the prosecutor makes his turn and is awarded a certain amount of points for their choices. The one with the highest ’score’ wins the trial. But it was a bit of a challenge to keep it from just being a Choose Your Own Adventure novel inside a game. So here’s what I decided upon:

The councilman gives his opening statement, and then the player must give theirs. The game advises the player to “Choose a strategy for the opening statement”, and presents them with the following menu:

1. Insult the Councilman.

2. Defend Zantharus’ motivation.

3. Defend Zantharus’ intent.

4. Defend Zantharus’ background.

The player will choose one, and the other three choices appear. For example, let’s say the player chooses to insult the councilman, in which case they are given the following menu:

a. Defend Zantharus’ motivation

b. Defend Zantharus’ intent.

c. Defend Zantharus’ background.

They choose one, let’s say to defend motivation. The following final menu appears:

i. Defend Zantharus’ intent.

ii. Defend Zantharus’ background.

They choose to defend intent, and now they’ve chosen a full strategy for the opening statement that is comprised of Insult (I), Motive (M), and Intent (T), or IMT. That configuration plugs into the game and outputs the following dialogue from Neila, the PC:

N: Rousing statement, Councilman. Truly moving.

A: Guardian, I advise you to check your sarcasm in such matters as these. I very much doubt it will be of any use to you.

N: No sarcasm needed, my Lord. In fact I believe such a dramatic display was the Council’s intent. It is, after all, somewhat difficult to convince a judicial committee when you know damn well that you have no solid evidence backing your claims. Zantharus Mashem has been accused of killing three members of the Rose, stealing sacred texts and selling their privileged information in the city, and then setting the library ablaze to cover all source of his crimes. Obviously he didn’t do a very good job of it, since we’re all here today.

N: Amusement’ aside, gentlemen, I will prove that Zantharus had no reason to commit any of the crimes of which he is currently burdened. And even if, through some vast stretch of the imagination, he did have considerable motivation for the crime, I can assure you his intent was not, nor has it ever been, betrayal.

That’s my first and very rough draft of it, but it illustrates the system I am setting up. Basically conversation becomes a mode of gameplay in the way of a puzzle in which the player must figure out the most effective counter to the prosecution. This mechanic becomes more complicated as witnesses are brought in and the player must figure out the most effective way to manipulate them by asking the right questions to get the best answers.

However, the start of the script is entirely linear. Though it basically functions as a cutscene, I don’t want that to be the first impression I give, or I fear Bioware may never even look at the trial portion. And though I may ‘picture’ it a certain way, I’m going to adapt it so that the player feels in control of the situation. Because that’s the difference between a good story and a good game story.