How We Write Stories For RPG
How We Write Stories For RPG
Hi everyone, I’m Zygmunt from WeKnowGame.
WeKnowGame is a small independent game consulting company. This year we are honored to be writing the script for the game The Bell Echoes. Taking this opportunity, I’d like to share how I approach writing a script for an RPG.
Before working on this game, I had already written three movie scripts, two of which were space opera sci-fi films. That experience gave me a solid foundation for building a fantasy world. Although the studio we’re working with this time focuses on artistic expression, as a commercial writer my ultimate responsibility is always to correctly and fully convey the producer’s theme. Only after that do I consider practical matters such as story logic, structure, and market appeal.
Conveying the producer’s theme is not difficult. Using film-writing logic, it’s best if the producer can describe the story’s core event in a single declarative sentence. Take the classic hero-versus-demon-king tale: the theme should not be the abstract idea “I want this story to express that justice always triumphs over evil.” Instead, it should be: “The righteous heroes unite, find the legendary weapon, and permanently seal away the evil demon king.” The first version is an abstract concept that could be executed in countless ways, while the second anchors the idea to a clear event. This makes the theme far more convincing and greatly reduces the writer’s workload. After all, there are endless ways to show “justice triumphs over evil.” How am I supposed to know whether the producer wants something abstract and unconventional—like the demon king drowning in a toilet—or a traditional hero’s journey? That’s why, before anything else, it is essential to lock in the script’s core idea and event with one clear declarative sentence.
The biggest difference between game writing and live-action film or television writing is that different visuals call for different styles. For example, in a AAA title with realistic motion capture and photorealistic graphics, I have no problem writing a five-minute monologue that becomes a story highlight. But if the game uses pixel characters, even Shakespeare-level writing won’t save a five-minute monologue—it would simply be boring. No player wants to watch a pixel sprite talk for five minutes; at that point they might as well read a book. Since our company mainly works with small- to mid-sized independent teams, I can share a few practical insights for low-budget writing.
Because visual expressiveness is limited, indie RPG stories need to rely more on character chemistry and an operatic style of storytelling. In short, every line of dialogue must be engaging, and every chapter or level must contain an emotional peak. It doesn’t have to be earth-shattering every time, but in every key plot segment the protagonist’s emotions must shift noticeably. They can’t feel as flat as drinking a glass of water.
This leads to the classic chicken-or-egg question: do you design the characters first or the world first? In my experience, either approach works, because at some point the two will develop in parallel. Stories like JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure clearly start with interesting characters and then build a stage for them to clash. Traditional sci-fi, on the other hand—whether alien invasion or zombie apocalypse—usually starts with the world and then adds functional characters with distinct personalities. Neither way is right or wrong. My own habit is to confirm the main characters and core world concept first, then devote most of my energy to fleshing out the world: writing a full chronicle, designing political systems, economic systems, weapon systems, and other societal rules. Only after the world feels solid do I go back and add more characters.
All characters must grow. By the middle of the game the protagonist party will inevitably suffer a major defeat and then rise from the ashes. I won’t dwell on this standard pattern. What I do want to emphasize is that game writing sometimes has to make compromises for the sake of gameplay—this is unavoidable. A good game is meant to be played, not read like a novel (games that sell primarily on text are outside the scope of this discussion). Sometimes dialogue that would slow the pace simply has to be cut, even if it leaves a character’s arc feeling incomplete. After the player has been mashing the A button through pages of text, they probably don’t want to sit through two more minutes of conversation. Most players would rather move on to a new map and a fresh battle. In cases where a plot point is especially important, it often works better to turn it into a collectible diary entry. The most extreme example I’ve encountered is Final Fantasy Type-0: the main game consists almost entirely of back-to-back battles, while the menu contains a history document with what feels like millions of words detailing every aspect of the world.
Finally, I want to share a real mindset I maintain while writing. Although I create with genuine passion and love the world and every character I build, I constantly remind myself that the players—my audience—have no obligation to fall in love with my story. My job is not to pour everything in my head onto the screen as some kind of artistic exhibition. I am more like a magician: everything is fake, but I have to design every action and every plot beat so that the audience laughs when I want them to laugh and feels surprised when I want them to feel surprised. Of course writers will include personal thoughts; that depends on the creator’s literary depth and insight. But deliberate, destructive personal expressions or political agendas are a desecration of the game story itself and are rarely accepted by most players.