Clay and the Art of Games Writing

Ian Thomas
4 min readOct 24, 2024

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This is really another take on this article — sparked this time by the fact that I’ve seen some people who write for games putting in lots and lots of effort only to have their work cut, and that being devastating for them. So here are some thoughts about that problem, scribbled down quickly.

There is a tendency for writers to, like dragons, hoard their gold. Pile it up in a hidden cave until they have enough to reveal it to the world. “Look at my riches,” they say. “Aren’t they magnificent?”

“But now we’ve put your riches into the game, they don’t fit what the player is supposed to do at that point,” say the game designers.

“How can that be so? Look how wonderful my riches are!”

“Well, when we asked for that pile of gold, we didn’t realise how the gameplay would feel, and…”

“You are saying my riches are the wrong colour? You are saying I’m bad at being a dragon, aren’t you?”

And so on. I can’t stretch this metaphor very far. After all, I didn’t test it before I wrote it.

Let’s try again. There is a natural tendency for writers to not want to show their writing until it’s polished, and it’s the best thing they think they could produce. They labour for days or months on it. Then they release it.

For a game writer, this can be an awful moment. They might realise that all that time was spent on a scene that has to be cut. Or it’s too long and doesn’t fit. Or it’s hit the wrong tone. Or a change of focus on that scene. Or someone in the art department has pitched an amazing idea in the playtest, and the creative director has signed up for it. Or the CEO changed their mind. Or the publishers said something couldn’t be done for this audience, or a particular note needed to be hit for PR purposes.

The writer’s sacred, polished writing needs to be hacked, broken, reorganised, decimated, or even completely cut.

Sorry folks. Games change all the time in development, and that’s a fact of life.

The obvious takeaway is that I think if you’re writing for games it’s a good idea to not wait and polish. Please, please throw your writing into the game as early as possible — even before your first draft, just as a set of placeholder beats. Play the game. Get others to play the game. Make sure the beats make sense. Rough it out with a first draft of text, play, test, get feedback, adjust, do it again, and again. If you’re writing dialogue, get in test recordings of your dialogue (please don’t use monotone text-to-speech, record it yourself on a phone if you need to). Repeat, repeat, repeat until they pry the material out of your hands and send it to a recording studio.

Because everything in the game will and should affect your writing. The art, as it starts to solidify, might (and should) make you cut words — why use words to describe something that’s all around the player? The gameplay might require additional words, focus, or a reminder. The previous scene might need an explanation, so you want your writing to paper over the cracks. Develop your writing as the moment in the game develops — and it will be much stronger, will not need to have suffered from the death of a thousand cuts, and you will be much more in tune with the entire game team.

Make your team aware of what you’re doing. When you put terrible text into the game, tell them “this is terrible — I know it’s terrible, but I’m putting it in anyway, and this is why”. Ask them for feedback. Ask them to make sure the text is saying the things it needs to say. Collaborate!

I like to think of the whole of a game as consisting of unformed lumps of clay. When a level is designed, it’s roughed out, blocked out, or white-boxed. Art will start as concept mood pieces, and become more and more realised. The same should be true of the writing as much as any other department. Rough it out. Then you can test it, and remove and add lumps as you need to.

It’s been a long day and I’m out of metaphors, so please fall free to insert your own. In summary: please don’t polish your writing, fall in love with it, and be devastated when it no longer works with the game you’re trying to make.

A quick recipe:

  • Get something functional in first, test, make sure each dialogue and line is performing the functional work it’s supposed to. Functionally, does this all make sense? Logically, does this all make sense?
  • Cut, rework, rewrite.
  • Go through making sure you (and the team) are clear what the emotion/mood is supposed to be in each scene.
  • Start with the most important scenes, make sure they are connected up properly – logical connections (what does the player need to know for this to make sense or hit them in the feels – and also sprinkle in foreshadowing and aftershocks as appropriate)
  • Do a pass on character voices. Does each character feel distinct?
  • On every pass, test, test, test! Play it! Don’t be afraid to cut/reshape.
  • Make the most important scenes shine. Work out from there, as time allows.

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Ian Thomas

Ian is narrative director, coder, and writer of video games, films, larp, books, live events, and VR/AR experiences. He has worked on well over 100 titles.