Navigating the Uncanny Valley: Writing for Video Games vs. Films

Introduction and The Uncanny Valley in Storytelling

The phrase “Uncanny Valley” may sound like something ripped straight from an H.P. Lovecraft novella, but it’s a concept often used in robotics and artificial intelligence to describe the unsettling feeling we get when we encounter something almost human, but not quite. Whether it’s a hyper-realistic android or a CGI character, our brain notices the slight imperfections, causing a mild sense of dread. Interestingly, this psychological phenomenon also extends to storytelling in contemporary media like video games and films.

Now, why would I bring up the Uncanny Valley when talking about storytelling? Simple. In an era when video games are becoming increasingly cinematic, and movies are employing more and more interactive storytelling elements—think Netflix’s “Bandersnatch”—writers often find themselves on a tightrope. How do you make a story or character feel genuinely real to the audience, avoiding the narrative equivalent of the Uncanny Valley?

Let’s talk about interactive storytelling for a minute. In recent years, advancements in technology have allowed narratives to become increasingly complex and interactive. Interactive storytelling is not a new concept; it traces its roots back to the ‘Choose Your Own Adventure’ books. However, the medium has evolved. Video games like “The Last of Us” and “Red Dead Redemption 2” have taken storytelling to an entirely new level, blending intricate plots, deep character development, and high-stakes decision-making that was previously the sole domain of literature and film.

But this foray into complex storytelling comes with a unique set of challenges. In a video game, you can’t just have a well-developed protagonist; you also need to make the world around them reactive, dynamic, and able to change based on the player’s actions. If you’re a writer looking to break into video game writing, some important writing tips include understanding game mechanics and being able to adapt your narrative to multiple outcomes. In essence, you’re creating a multi-dimensional narrative space where each decision opens a new avenue, but it also needs to feel cohesive. Games like “Life Is Strange” exemplify this well, as they present multiple narrative options that still tie back to the core storyline.

On the flip side, films have the luxury—or perhaps, the limitation—of linear storytelling. Here, every plot point, every piece of dialogue, and every visual element must be meticulously planned to evoke specific emotions at specific times. And this, too, is an art form that comes with its own challenges. Films like “Inception” make masterful use of linear storytelling to create intricate narratives, and they accomplish this without the variable of audience choice. One could argue that this controlled environment allows for a tighter narrative but eliminates the element of exploration and choice that video games offer. If you’re invested in writing a screenplay, understanding the nuances of pacing, tension, and theme becomes critical. In films, you have roughly two hours to tell your story, and you don’t get a second chance to make a first impression.

And here’s the crux of the matter: As a writer, your aim is to create emotionally authentic experiences that resonate with the audience. Whether it’s through a Choose-Your-Own-Adventure style video game or a carefully structured film, you want the reader or viewer to suspend their disbelief. You want them to invest emotionally in the characters and the world you’ve built. Achieving this is easier said than done; the wrong tone, an inconsistent character, or an implausible plot development can pull the audience out of the story, plunging them right into the narrative equivalent of the Uncanny Valley.

So, what can we take away from all this? The Uncanny Valley serves as a potent metaphor for the pitfalls of storytelling. In both interactive and linear narratives, the audience’s emotional investment is the ultimate goal. Understanding the tools and limitations of your chosen medium—be it video games or films—is critical in crafting a story that not only entertains but resonates. Your role as a writer is akin to that of an emotional architect, constructing scenes, dialogue, and events in such a way that your audience becomes a part of the world you’ve created, rather than mere spectators.

Character Development and Plotting in Video Games

Let’s dive into the exciting world of video game narratives. Unlike traditional storytelling media, video games offer an interactive experience where the player doesn’t just witness the story; they are an active participant in its unfolding. This unique feature has profound implications on character development and plotting, from the elasticity of narrative arcs to the mutable personas of protagonists and even antagonists.

When it comes to crafting characters for video games, the playbook is considerably different than what you’d find in traditional screenplay structure. Let’s take Kratos from “God of War” as an example. Kratos isn’t just a character; he’s a vessel for the player’s will, a puppet whose strings are pulled by someone holding a controller. This presents an incredible opportunity but also a challenge. While you want Kratos to have his personality and motives, you also need to ensure that he’s an empty enough vessel to host the player’s intentions.

It’s this dual role that makes video game characters so intriguing to write. You’re essentially crafting a dual-identity: one part of the character belongs to the world you’ve created, and the other part belongs to the player. The balance is crucial. Tilt too much in one direction, and you risk creating a lifeless avatar or, conversely, a character too strong-willed for the player to feel they’re making choices. This is why understanding game mechanics and how they intersect with narrative is a vital writing tip for anyone venturing into this field.

Now, speaking of choices, let’s discuss the elephant in the room: player agency. Games like “Mass Effect” take the concept of choice to an astronomical level, offering players a plethora of dialogue options, moral choices, and actions that significantly impact the game’s outcome. As a writer, this means you need to plot not just a single, linear story but a web of potential narratives. It’s a different kind of storytelling calculus, where X doesn’t just lead to Y but can lead to Z, A, or even Q! You need to consider not just what makes sense for the character but what could make sense based on a player’s choice. It’s like creating a “Choose Your Own Adventure” book on steroids.

Ah, the non-linear narrative—the wild frontier of video game storytelling. Unlike traditional narrative forms where events unfold in a predetermined, linear fashion, video games often employ non-linear storytelling to enhance player engagement. Take “The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild” as a case study. Here, the overarching goal remains the same—defeat Ganon—but how you get there is entirely up to you. You can storm the castle right away or spend hours (or days, or weeks) exploring every nook and cranny of Hyrule. This narrative freedom not only enhances replayability but also makes for a deeply personal experience. But remember, with great power comes great responsibility. Writing for non-linear narratives means accounting for cohesion and continuity even when events are experienced out of sequence.

While crafting such an intricate narrative may sound daunting, a few specific writing tips can make the task more manageable. One effective technique is modular storytelling. Rather than writing one sprawling epic, consider breaking down the narrative into smaller, self-contained modules that can fit together in various configurations. This will not only make the writing process more manageable but will also allow for more flexible gameplay.

Another writing prompt to consider is theme: what is the underlying message or concept you want to explore? Unlike movies or books, players will spend a considerable amount of time—sometimes hundreds of hours—in the world you’ve created. Having a strong thematic underpinning can provide a consistent emotional and philosophical context, adding depth and cohesion to even the most sprawling, non-linear narratives.

Lastly, don’t be afraid to leverage the unique capabilities of the video game medium. Environmental storytelling—where the world itself provides clues to the narrative—is a powerful tool in the video game writer’s toolkit. Look to games like “Dark Souls,” where lore is often hidden in item descriptions, or “Fallout,” where a terminal entry can provide as much emotional punch as a cinematic cutscene.

Screenwriting Techniques and Linear Storytelling in Films

Cinema—the bastion of narrative tradition, where storylines unfurl without any pesky interference from the audience. While video games are the shiny new kid on the storytelling block, movies remain the old-school master class in how to craft a compelling narrative from beginning to end.

Let’s start with the granddaddy of them all: the three-act structure. Ah yes, the setup, confrontation, and resolution, the backbone of classics from “Gone with the Wind” to “The Godfather.” This structure is often the first lesson in Screenwriting 101, and it’s your go-to template if you’re just dipping your toes into the craft. Even if you want to shatter the mold later, understanding this framework is crucial. The three-act structure isn’t just a set of arbitrary guidelines; it mirrors the psychological ebb and flow of the human emotional experience. And mastering it is definitely a way to improve writing skills.

Unlike video games, where the player can take a left turn and head off into an alternate storyline, films require a more tightly controlled narrative to guide the viewer to a predetermined emotional destination. Take “Forrest Gump” as an example. The storytelling is linear, yet it spans decades and a plethora of historical events. We’re not just following Forrest; we’re traversing the American cultural landscape, guided by a single, unchanging perspective. The film could have easily become a chaotic mess, but thanks to the strict adherence to a well-crafted screenplay, it remains one of the most beloved stories in cinematic history.

That brings us to emotional resonance. How do you make your audience cry, laugh, or grip the edge of their seats when they have no agency in the story? Well, it’s all about writing characters that serve as emotional conduits. Take Pixar’s “Up” for example. The film manages to break our hearts within the first ten minutes, all through a well-executed montage without dialogue. There’s no player to choose whether Carl and Ellie get to have a baby or not; there’s only the inexorable march of time and the poignant choices made by the writers. Crafting scenes that encapsulate universal human experiences is a creative writing strategy that, when done well, can pack a wallop of an emotional punch.

Let’s talk dialogue. In films, what characters say (or don’t say) carries the weight of the story, informs character development, and provides the thematic meat of the narrative. Take Aaron Sorkin’s screenplay for “The Social Network.” The dialogue is razor-sharp, each line serving multiple purposes—developing characters, moving the plot forward, and laying the thematic groundwork. This level of complexity isn’t achieved on a whim; it’s meticulously crafted. If you’re looking to work on your dialogue-writing chops, studying the masters can serve as an invaluable writing prompt.

Film writers also employ visual and aural elements as storytelling tools, often penned down in the screenplay as specific camera angles or sound cues. Think of the shower scene in “Psycho,” with its screeching violins, or the slow zoom into Roy Scheider’s face in “Jaws.” These are moments where the writing on the page transcends into a multi-sensory experience. As you hone your skills, understanding the potential of these elements can significantly enrich your storytelling arsenal.

One might argue that film storytelling is a bit of a magic trick. You have to make the audience forget they’re merely spectators. They should feel as if they’re part of the journey, even though they can’t steer the ship. Engaging an audience in a story they have no control over is, in itself, an art form. It’s about building tension, developing relatable characters, and delivering satisfying resolutions—all within a predetermined structure. It might lack the malleability of video game narratives, but therein lies its beauty. It’s a crafted experience—a tightrope walk of pacing, tone, and emotional engagement that’s been honed to near-perfection over a century of cinematic storytelling.

In a nutshell, screenwriting for films offers a different set of challenges and opportunities compared to video game writing. Each has its own unique requirements and limitations, but at their core, both aim to do the same thing: tell a compelling story that engages and moves the audience. Whether it’s the linear, time-tested tales of the silver screen or the branching, interactive narratives of a video game, mastering the specificities of each medium can offer invaluable lessons in how to be a more versatile and effective storyteller.


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