Richard Dansky’s Post

I talk with a lot of people who want to get into doing narrative work in video games, and I always try to be respectful, informative, and helpful. However, I feel it is deeply counterproductive to sugarcoat stuff that people need to know. And again, I applaud the ambition, courage and energy of everyone trying to get into this crazy field. I cannot stress enough how rewarding it can be when everything clicks, and I understand why it's shining like the grail-shaped beacon in the rain to draw you onward. I encourage you to follow that dream - but to do so with clear eyes and full knowledge, not sniffing pixie dust and misconceptions. Because odds are, you are not going to stroll into the industry and become a narrative director right off the bat. Sure, it happens occasionally, usually as a result of nepotism where a creative director or a senior producer wants to give their friend a job, but that is often a recipe for disaster. At the very least, it causes deep, justifiable dissatisfaction in the folks who now get to work under someone who almost certainly doesn't understand how the sausage gets made. Narrative director is a job that requires a deep understanding of game narrative and how it functions, not to mention a track record to fall back on to help provide solutions and skill at handling and developing narrative professionals. These come with time, with effort, and with experience. Narrative Director is a worthy goal, but if you think it's going to be your first step, you're setting yourself up for disappointment. If you are brought in to work on a game, unless your mandate is very specifically "This is broken, fix it," your job is not to fix it. It is not to take your vision for the IP and try to single-handedly institute it in order to meet your vision of a shining Gotham City on a hill or whatever. If you have thoughts or criticisms or suggestions for making things better, by all means, find an appropriate time and place to ask your questions. But running off to save a day that no one asked you to save as you try to steer the IP (with all its attendant marketing, investment, fan sentiment and history) toward your preferred destination is a long walk off a short pier. And always show respect for honest work. It is very tempting to come on the scene riding a snorting, armored up polar bear and declare that everything that has come before you is crap, and that you are here to save the day. News flash: this scenario has played out many, many times, and it pretty much always ends badly. Respect the work that has been done, even if it didn't come out as well as it might have. Understand that there are things you don't know about that might have affected the process. Be aware that no matter how much you think you know, there is more to learn about the day to day that no class, no YouTube video, no book is going to tell you and that you will not learn until you get your hands dirty. And with that, I wish you luck.

And now, for something completely different... Positivity. There's a whole lot of really depressing stuff going on right now both inside the industry and out of it. It behooves us to take that very seriously and to do something about it in any way we can. However, that does not mean we have to wall ourselves off from finding the good in things, or that taking joy in achievements and work well done is somehow inappropriate. Because when you boil it down, our job as narrative folk is twofold. One, we get to tell stories to vast audiences. Two, we get to help make people have fun. They are not always "our" stories in the deeply personal way fiction or any single-author medium can be. Such is the nature of collaboration that defines games. But at the same time, we get to see them manifested by the talents of others on our teams and blossoming in ways that we would have been unable to do on our own. And yes, by and large our job is to help people have fun. This is a noble and precious goal, helping to create causes for happiness. There are always going to be the nay-sayers and the negative reviewers and the jerks out there who will never be satisfied, but we don't do this for them. We pour our hearts and souls into this because we want people to feel like their time is better spent engaging with our stories and our words and the gameplay created by our colleagues than anything else at that moment. That's something to look to and to hang on to. On some level, it feels like we are a positive force for joy in the world, and that's not something to take lightly. I know it's easy to dismiss what we do as frivolous. I remember reading a tweet from a member of one of my favorite bands wherein he made an offhand comment dismissing people just sitting around playing video games. My instant thought is "What's the difference between that and sitting around listening to music?" Both can please, can amuse, can generate emotion, and can even inspire creativity - 98% of the people I talk to about this were inspired to get into games because of a play experience they had. So don't put what we do down, and by proxy put yourself down with it. Celebrate it, and hold onto it as something worthy and beneficial. Which means you should also celebrate yourself and your work. You should view it as praiseworthy and worthwhile. Keep an ear and an eye out for the joy people take from it - don't obsessively Google or anything like that, but pay attention - and be rightfully pleased if your stuff made someone happy. I will tell you right now that there have been very few greater joys for me in my 25 year career than hearing people quote lines of dialog I wrote with a laugh or a smile. It's not even about them repeating it back to me for ego boo, it's about them sharing the lines with other people and thus sharing their appreciation and pleasure, and hopefully increasing it out in the world. So look at what you do, and hopefully find a little happy. You deserve it.

After Wednesday's post, I am amused and appalled by the fact that when I went to write this, the prompt that popped up was "Use AI to write your post!" No thank you LinkedIn, and kindly fuck off with that nonsense. Anyway, tonight we're going to take a slight detour from the weighty topics that have been dominating these posts of late. That doesn't mean I am abandoning the field on hiring or AI or anything else, rather that I am very tired after over a week without air conditioning in the North Carolina heat (still out, mind you), with two skeptical cats, and I want to do something a little different. Lots of folks want suggestions on what books they should read to help them become better game writers. There are plenty out there, ranging from the general to the specific. Many of them are very good. A significant number have been written by people I consider friends and valued professional peers. Some of them, I have even contributed chapters to. But. Those are the obvious answers. And by all means, yes, when you are looking at improving your craft, check out stuff by Evan Skolnick or Anna Megill or Toiya K. Finley or Michelle Clough or Wendy Despain or a whole bunch of others. You will get valuable information, clear instruction, and a great resource to fall back on in times of trouble. But there are other things you should be checking out, too, things that I have found invaluable in helping me as a writer of games as well as fiction. The first is the essay "The Simple Art of Murder", by Raymond Chandler. Putatively, it is all about writing good murder mysteries and that's it. After all, that's what Chandler, one of the kings of American noir, was known for. And to be fair, it's a really good essay about writing murder mysteries. Dig a little deeper, though, and you realize it's really about more. It's a masterclass in subtly making the case for narrative logic as an essential element. With the gentlest of jabs, it talks about doing research into both the hard and soft topics you are writing on. And it offers a challenge, and a condemnation of lazy work. I will forever be grateful to this essay for introducing me to the phrase "having God sit in your lap" as a way of describing ludicrously unlikely sequences of events, and I use that phrase reverently to this day. The second is Zen In the Art of Writing, by Ray Bradbury. The book is short, a collection of thoughts and mini-essays and insights without a formal structure or narrative. And that's fine. This is not a textbook, nor is it intended to provide formal instruction. It is a jar full of brilliant fireflies of the sparkling insights Bradbury had into the writing process, and they are to be read and marveled at one by one. Do all of them work for every writer? Of course not. But there is enough there that I'm pretty sure you're going to find something that strikes a chord. So broaden your horizons. Look for other sources of direction for your craft. And always keep reading.

I think I just might have figured something out. Specifically, I have a sneaky suspicion I stumbled across the root of the disconnect between creatives and tech types over generative AI. Now let me be clear: I am firmly in the anti-AI camp, for lots of reasons, which I will cheerfully lay out at another time when I don't need to conserve word count. But I digress. The realization came to me while I was reading the widely spread interview with TV creator David Simon from 2023. During the chat, the interviewer asked Simon if he would use AI to help with a difficult transition between scenes, and Simon responded - and I applaud this response - that he would rather stick a gun in his mouth. Because that interaction lays the disconnect bare. The two are discussing a tricky transition between scenes, but they view it very differently. Simon, the creative, sees it as part of the whole, a challenge to meet using experience, skill, and talent. Finding ways to make those connections, to do those transitions and to make them good so the thing as a whole is improved is what writing is all about. Meeting the challenge and triumphing is part of the marrow of being a writer. It is why we do this crazy thing, to bring to bear our words on situations and create something from the impact. This hypothetically balky transition was an opportunity to do something creative and positive, and Simon understood that instinctively. The interviewer, on the other hand, saw it as just a simple problem to be solved. The transition isn't happening automatically? It needs to be fixed. It's just another check box to fill in. There is no understanding possible of creative approaches because it is being viewed in a production context and not a creative one. It is, in the end, just another widget, only this one is made out of words. The difficulty of the transition is seen as external to the writing, an outside force preventing it that must be dealt with, instead of part of the whole. And to be blunt, this is wrong. Now, professional writers have known for a long time that our craft is someone else's product. Every line we write for a game serves a dual purpose - creative and functional. The one feeds fun, the other keeps the machine humming. We are comfortable with that. This duality is what gets our work in front of players, after all, and that's a good thing. But even the basest of lines - the nine millionth version of someone shouting a variation on "Grenade!" - has creativity brought to bear on it to make sure it is appropriate for the character and the situation. But even when a writing deliverable is the most monumental, unreasonable, ridiculous thing possible, it's still the writing. It doesn't stand in the way of the creativity, it shapes it, and when done with craft and skill, the results are remarkable.

Let me be clear: There is no secret button that will get you hired as a narrative professional. If there were, everyone would be mashing it like a six year old playing Street Fighter. The sad truth is that until companies start looking to long-term development as a profit engine as opposed to slashing expenses to make this quarter look better, it's going to be rough. There's nothing I, or really anyone below a certain level, can do about that. Instead, what I would like to offer here are some approaches that, taken singly or as a group, may make your chances as a junior a little better. I promise nothing. But read it over, take what works for you, and hopefully it will help. The first thing you have to do is network, and particularly network with established narrative devs. I am most absolutely NOT suggesting you try to make every senior narrative designer out there your bestest buddy in the world. I am saying that if you get a chance to introduce yourself in a respectful way, do so. Listen to what they have to say - on social media, at conferences, wherever - and if the chance comes, ask questions about it. Establish yourself in their eyes as a serious, thoughtful person interested in growing their craft, and not someone who just wants an express elevator to a job. Because one of the dirty secrets of the industry is that we get asked for recommendations, and not always by our own employers. If you make a good impression, you increase your chances of being mentioned in those conversations as someone who is worth taking a chance on. Always keep working on, adding to, and tuning your portfolio. Take every chance you get to improve your written samples and throw out old ones that you've surpassed. If you're applying to a specific company, adapt your samples to what they specialize in. Rotate pieces in and out depending on what job you're going for. And if you're including game samples, try to add new ones. Always show your latest and greatest. You're not the candidate you were even six months ago. Your portfolio should reflect that. Do your research. If you're going to target a studio, know their games well enough to talk intelligently about them. This does not mean telling the people who made a game that you could make it much better. Rather, look for narrative choices that were made and build questions around them. If you know who you're going to be talking to at a studio, follow up on them. Know the games they worked on so when you get asked for questions, you can ask good ones. The answer may not be "Yes" this time, but if you make a good impression, it may pay off down the road. Do take every /paying/ opportunity that comes your way. Professional work is professional work, and you never know when you will catch lightning in a bottle for your CV. And most of all, believe in yourself, your talent, and your skill. You have something unique to share with the world, and there really are a lot of us who want to see it.

A huge thank-you to everyone who read, forwarded, or commented on the last post. The response was overwhelming. As for the content, it's something I firmly believe and I am glad to see those words resonate. I apologize for not having the bandwidth to respond individually to comments yet, though I will try to do so, time permitting. What I'm going to do tonight instead is address some of the topics that got brought up by multiple folks. To wit: 1-For everyone who agreed with and applauded the message, I would request that you pass it on, amplify it, put it in your own words, and keep the conversation alive. Forward the post to folks you think need to read it or write your own version of it - just don't let the discussion die. The point needs to be made on every front that the current approach is unsustainable. 2-I strongly suspect one of the reasons a lot of C-suite types in the industry don't care about a sustainable business model is that they expect to be gone trailing clouds of loot long before the bill comes due. One would hope companies would wise up and stop appointing people to top-level posts who are not interested in the success of the company, but I'm just a writer and what do I know? 3-I wish I had concrete steps for juniors to follow that would guarantee employment. I don't. I do have thoughts on things you can do to improve your chances, which I have mentioned in the past and will re-post in the very near future. In the meantime, I call on seniors in the industry who have bandwidth and sympathy to make themselves available to mentor and network on the behalf of fresh talent. 4-Here's where I get in trouble. Yes, folks from other media are always welcome in the game writing tent /if/ they are interested in writing games. I have been at this a very long time and I have seen many fine and talented writers from other media strike out in the game space because they couldn't wrap their heads around the interactive aspect of the job, or because they thought their skills would be 100% congruent and tried to ram square pegs into a cheese grater. This is not to say don't try, but rather that if you do try, do so with the understanding that game writing is its own thing, with its own needs, language, approaches, and processes. It is not movies, it is not comics, it is not novels. Are there elements from those crafts that apply? Absolutely. But be prepared for a new adventure instead of thinking you're going to slot right in from day 1 with no adjustment period. 5-To those of you in positions to do something about it, build career tracks for narrative. Make mentoring part of the job for seniors. Lay out clear career progression for people in the field. Do what you can to stop Narrative from being treated like a hastily bolted-on addition and instead make sure it is treated like any other part of the team. You will get better talent, better retention and better results if you do. Now let us carry the banner onwards.

Let's be clear: Game narrative needs juniors. We need more juniors than we have across the industry, we need them from a wider array of backgrounds, and we need them now so as to ensure the quality of game narrative going forward. It's all very nice that every entry-level narrative position being advertised these days wants 1-3 years of AAA experience at a minimum, but that's just pretzel logic. If you won't hire someone who doesn't have AAA experience to an AAA job, and your existing juniors are growing out of their junior positions, who the hell is going fill those roles? Try and push the more experienced devs down and you'll lose talent. Look around for people who have the experience you have actively prevented them from getting? Good luck. It is, for lack of a better word, illogical. Think about it. Your current juniors, assuming you haven't blown them out the door to try to get useful content out of the verbal salad spinner that is generative AI, are growing into mid-level and senior positions. Your mid-level folks are either leaving the industry or growing into seniors. And your seniors are in the process of aging out, burning out, being told they're unhireable because of age discrimination, or otherwise heading vaguely sunset-wards as the years go on. But who's there to replace the juniors? These days, it feels like nobody's thinking about that. Nobody's thinking about the consequences of not developing talent that can handle small tasks now while learning how to grow into bigger ones. Nobody cares that there's going to be an increasingly rapid talent drain and no one to replace it because companies didn't understand the need to replenish their talent pool. But hey, that's a problem for later, right? Well, actually, it isn't. A good, talented junior can bring a lot to the table besides a pair of hands to do junior tasks - not that there isn't a desperate need for folks to do junior tasks right. Juniors bring fresh perspectives on old problems. They've got an understanding of a younger slice of the audience that seniors might have gotten distanced from, especially after yelling at them to get off the damn lawn. They have a different relationship with games and technology than those of us who have been in the industry for a while have, and that's valuable. And they bring energy, something that too often has been squeezed out of industry vets by endless dev cycles. Of course, you absolutely have to invest in training up your juniors. They are juniors, after all - they don't know how the sausage gets made because this is not The Matrix and they cannot just download it along with kung fu. But the key word is "invest" - not "spend", "invest". The time you put into training a junior with potential will be repaid a hundredfold when they get up to speed and start owning bigger and more sensitive tasks. So treasure your juniors. Hang onto them. Make sure to set up an influx of new ones. And then you'll reap the rewards.

My feed is being swamped in sponsored posts claiming the overwhelming percentage of workers are now happily using AI in their jobs. It honestly feels desperate and untruthful. For one thing, if the overwhelming majority of folks are now ensconced in their AI-assisted labor paradise, they’re working awful hard to convince us few remaining holdouts. For another, I’m pretty sure “just had unwanted AI jammed into apps I already use whether I wanted it or not” is not quite the same thing as “are actively using it.” Of course, if these ads were generated by AI - which is well known for being wrong, certain things make sense…..

Very few successful franchise characters are lucky enough to be written by only their originator over the course of their time onstage. Writers and narrative directors move on, franchises get doled out to different studios within a company or get sold off to different companies, series go into hibernation for years and then re-emerge - all of these factors mean that someone new is putting words into a beloved, or at least a long-running character's mouth. This can be hard to do. Some writers are naturally gifted with the ability to mimic another writer's voice, but they are few and far between. The rest of us have to make do with cruder tools, but at least those tools exist. The first thing to do, of course, is to go over any existing material featuring that character. Watch videos of the characters in previous incarnations and learn how they typically expressed themselves, particularly in fan-favorite videos. If the pen behind the character has already changed hands at least once, pay careful attention to what aspects of the character's voice survived from incarnation to incarnation. These are almost certainly the things fans consider the pillars of the character's voice, and the things they will miss most violently if you randomly decide to leave them by the wayside. Does this mean you have to do a spot-on impersonation of the previous or iconic writer's work? No. It just means you have to be aware of it, and you abandon it at your peril. Obviously, you will need to find your own way to connect with the character, but knowing what has gone before in terms of diction and syntax and pace will go a long way toward informing your approach in carrying on the character's legacy. This holds true even if you don't like what has been done before. Yes, we always strive to improve on our predecessors, but even if you don't like what was done in early iterations of the character, don't crap all over them and ignore them. You do that, and you will almost certainly manage to alienate both the fans who liked the stuff you don't like and the ones who didn't who don't recognize the character you're putting before them. If you strongly feel the need to change an existing character's voice, do so subtly and with good reason and context. It's fine to add a /little/ humor or other elements to a character who maybe has gotten stale and needs to evolve. Just don't suddenly take them from Silent Bob to Deadpool in 60 seconds. That stuff works fine if you've got different writers sequentially. However, too often projects scramble and big deliverables featuring a single character voice have to get divvied out among several writers. What needs to happen then is agreement and coordination. There needs to be absolute agreement as to what the touchstones of the character's voice are that get suggested, decided upon, and shared so that everyone knows with certainty what they are. More on that next time...

Last time I talked about all the issues in the way of developing game narrative talent. Today, I want to talk about what we can do about it. The first hurdle is maybe the biggest one: getting studios to recognize the need. Over my career I have seen it again and again - narrative folks are expected to be finished products when they walk in the door, something that is rarely expected of devotees of other disciplines. This is an unfortunate outgrowth of the misconception that narrative is easy, and as such it is hard to root out. But every narrative professional in gaming owes it to themselves, their professional peers and the ones who will follow in our tracks to preach the gospel of professional development to our employers. It needs to be made clear that there are aspects to the job you simply don't pick up in school or writing novels or screenplays or student projects or whatever, and that each studio has its own narrative needs, tools and approaches. When I came into the industry from tabletop RPGs, I was kindly given a learning cushion by my boss, Brian Upton, that let me get up to speed, but that's rare. Hires tend to happen to put out fires these days, but that's short term thinking. So yes, let us go forth to tell our producers, our studio heads, and more that narrative workers need to have professional training, preferably from senior folks in the discipline who understand how the sausage gets made. There need to be clear milestones, timetables, goals, and avenues of support to help people improve at their tasks, and thus become (surprise!) better, more productive employees. Hand in hand with that is setting clear career paths for people following the narrative track. Giving people something to aspire to and a clearly marked path to reach that goal is HR 101 for motivating people. Offering multiple paths to suit their desires and expertise - some folks are better at technical aspects, some at managing, some at hammering out words - is even better. But too often there's no understanding of what the various levels of expertise in the field are, and so there are no clear signposts and no formal role assignments. People who can't see where they're going inevitably bail, looking for greener and clearer pastures. Now, senior narrative devs, don't think I have forgotten about you. We all bear a responsibility to the craft we work in. While many of us are largely self-taught, there has always been a spirit in the narrative community of reaching out and mentoring. People I considered my idols reached down and did it for me when I got started, and I've worked my entire career to turn around and do it for other folks as well. Don't hoard your knowledge. Reach out to juniors and students. Have those conversations at GDC that turn on lightbulbs for people finding their way. And if you can formally share your work - in a blog, in a book, in a conference lecture, whatever - do so. It'll make it better for all of us in the end.