COTE SMITH

You’re reading these words, but you wish you weren’t. You wish there was a cutscene maybe, a short video conveying the same information. Though even that you might skip. If you wanted to be talked at, you’d watch a show or read a book. So what do I do? How do I keep you engaged?

 

I give you a choice.

 

Players love choices. If I’ve learned one thing from game writing, it’s that player experience comes first. If I learned a second thing, it’s that players don’t like to be told what to do. 

 

For example, here’s a video demonstrating what I’ll talk about in this essay. You can watch or continue reading.

 

Oh, you’re still here?

 

Bless your heart. I’ll never forget this.

 

Of course, it’s possible that you went straight to the video and never looked back. If that’s the case, as a narrative designer, I failed. In games, as in life, a true choice should be difficult to make. If you’re still reading this, you should be wondering what you’re missing from having not opted for the video. The writing should be engaging, of course, demanding (why else would I mix in the second person), but at the end you should also wonder: What if I had chosen the video? Would I learn something different? Would the video set me down the path of true enlightenment, freeing me from this world’s trivial, ephemeral concerns? (Spoiler alert: Probably not). 

 

But it should feel that way. Every choice should have stakes and consequences. It should not be a disappointing illusion, where no matter what you choose, you end in the same place. For example, the consequence of reading this text is that you have a better sense of my polished voice, not the montonic timbre I give you in the video (I can’t help it! That’s how I sound!). However, the text can only tell; it cannot show like the video, and that’s another consequence. You miss out on the visual.

 

So which one is it going to be?

 

Either way, you should feel like you’re winning. And losing. And you wan’t to play again.

 

That’s the game I can help you make.