Writing and Video Games: The Plot Connection

I am a gamer. This is no secret. I'm also a writer, and a reader, and so many other things.

But, at a glance, it seems to many people-- particularly those who don't play many games, and even to those who only play certain types of games-- it seems particularly unlikely that what I most enjoy about video games is, in many cases, the plot.

There are people who argue that, for video games, you don't need plot. The gameplay is what's most important.

And that's fine. There are games like that. I doubt most people playing Grand Theft Auto do it for any sort of story. Super Smash Bros is completely about beating up your friends. Halo multiplayer is widely popular.

But there are also movies where the plot doesn't matter. You always know that, in a James Bond movie, there will be explosions, high adventure, and a beautiful woman. I think my father would watch a James Bond movie just for those, and the fight sequences, even if there was nothing else involved.

There are books where the plot doesn't matter. Sounds really odd, doesn't it? It falls into two categories: literary fiction-- something that many college professors failed to pound the importance of into my skull-- and erotica, or literary porn.

Go on, take a few minutes. Think of some movies, some books, where you really didn't care for the point of it all. The Three Stooges. Fifty Shades of Gray. There are more. Think of some.

Just like you can think of those books and movies, I can think of games without plot. And yes, there are times when there's nothing else to shine through but the gameplay; when all I do, upon turning on a game, is play, and not think about evil-doers and people to protect. But usually, it's more fun with them.

In coming weeks, I'll be looking at a number of games from my own collection and discussing their plots, or lack of, in detail. Don't worry; due to my own limited budget, as well as a personal desire not to spoil things, I'll try to only review games from 2008 or earlier. Like books and movies, there's a limit to how long surprises can stay surprises.

I'll also try to connect these games to other medium: books, movies, tv, and so forth. Let's see how games measure up.

As a note, there will be no blog post next week; I have a full work schedule and will be out of town for two days. It's more important to write than to blog, if I have to make the choice.

Happy Writing,

-Alaina

The Writing Commitment: Beta Readers

Beta readers are the first people, other than yourself, to read your work. Typically, these are people you trust. You give them your completed manuscript and a deadline, and they return it to you with comments.

This is harder than it sounds, for a large number of reasons.

The first time I sent my work to beta-readers, I sent it to six people, and asked for feedback in four months. Two got it back to me on time, one got it back to me a month late, and the other three didn't return it at all.

This is an issue; if you're counting on six views, and you only get three, it can be a problem. More is better, to a point. This can be more or less a problem depending on who you send your work to and what sort of environment you're sending it to them in.

If you're sending it to a writer in a critique group used to giving critiques, you'll probably get it back on time. If you're sending it to your friend who does fanfiction, it's a bit more iffy. If you're sending it to someone whose aunt has cancer, who just lost their job, who... I think you get the idea. When you send your work out, try to know the people you're sending it to for their ability to get it back. No point in sending it out and never getting it back.

When you send your work to beta-readers, you want people whose opinions you trust, but who you can ignore safely.

Four years ago, I let my family read my writing. They had been bothering me about it regularly for years, and I figured that would shut them up. I told them, very specifically, that it was an old story I was no longer working on. I did not need comments about it. And yet, my father criticized the subject matter, my mother told me she got confused at every third chapter, and to this day my sister still brings up how she would have written that plot. They are very difficult to ignore.

Now, some people's parents and relatives will be great beta-readers; they'll be able to shut up. But if your parents are like mine, or if your mother's going to do nothing but gush about how wonderful it is... you may want to pass.

Most of my beta-readers are fellow writers from an online writer's group. I have known all of them for over a year, and have read their writing, so I know their comments will be accurate, and I trust what they say. One beta-reader I had once suggested that the story would be better if I changed it from 'Woman finds lost child' to 'Zombie Apocalypse'. Not helpful; they don't beta-read for me any more, and I don't trust their opinion one bit.

You always want more than one beta-reader, but quantity is not always better than quality.

Here's the thing: by the time you send this out to people, it should already be edited. You'll want to argue with their comments. No, I'm not talking about spelling errors, I'm saying someone might find the love interest a bore. When this is published, you can't follow the reader around, yelling at them that they just don't get it, but it's easy to ignore the advice of one person.

If you have two beta-readers, and one of them loves the love interest, and the other finds him a bore, you can ignore the advice... but if they agree that it's stupid for him to turn into a mouse after his first kiss, listen. These are people you trust, remember. Agreeing.

If you have three people, and the third doesn't make any comment at all on the love interest, but also finds the mouse thing stupid, you really need to fix it.

And, of course, all of them will find at least one problem that the others missed.

The thing is, after a point, too many views can be confusing. Most of my beta-readers put their comments right into the computer document and send them back to me; I've compiled-- sometimes by hand-- all their comments into one document to read simultaneously. When two people disagreed on the very first sentence, I spent at least an hour trying to figure out if I should fix it, and if I should, whose advice I should agree with-- they both wanted it changed, but in different ways. The third didn't comment on that. If I had four comments on that sentence, all disagreeing, would it be easier? How about six? Eight? Sometimes, less is more.

There are more reasons for good beta-readers, but those are the first to come to mind for me. You'll find more as you go.

Happy Writing,

-Alaina

The Writing Commitment: Editing

There are as many ways to edit as there are people; while different techniques will no doubt help, everyone will do it just a little bit differently. However, no matter what way you plan to edit, keep two things in mind.

One: There are dozens upon dozens of different editing techniques, and you should try as many as you can find or conceive of and have the resources to do. You may discover that doing it one way will allow you to catch one type of problem, and doing it another way will help you find another type. Try everything, try anything, once.

Two: Yes. You need to edit.

Some people are looking at point two and wondering why it's there, and others are looking at it and saying 'No. I don't need to edit. My manuscript is absolutely flawless, a best-seller, and editing will remove every bit of luster it has.'

To people in the second camp: calm down. Take a breath, a sip of water, and listen.

Nothing is ever as perfect as you remember it. If Stephen King, JK Rowling, and other literary greats need to edit, so do you. At the very least, you'll find typos; words spell check didn't catch, the time it accidentally turned your ellipses into a list, formatting errors. At worst, you may find that you wrote 'Chapter 16: I'm not sure how yet, but they kill the dragon and Brent loses his left arm. Chapter 17.' And I guarantee you, there is at least one published author who skipped a scene or a chapter in similar fashion and forgot about it. Sending that off would be a little embarrassing.

Besides, here's the first tip I'm going to give you, something recommended by Stephen King and supported by lots of others: put your story away and don't touch it for six months.

Yes, you heard me. And I'm a complete hipocrite, because I've never followed this advice in my life. By the time I finish a story, I've already got a little list in my head of things that need fixing. Clear Cut, which has had partial requests, has a character whose identity is a secret and unknown for half the story. I didn't figure out how key that identity was until almost 20,000 words in. My first edit, I added clues to that identity, so people would be able to spot it. I added foreshadowing for all the evil events that would occur later. I made sure my characters were doing things, not just talking heads, in scenes with a lot of dialogue. I tried to add senses to scenes: instead of just seeing the place, they were smelling the burning torches, wishing the stew had more salt, and trying to touch the dirty floor as little as possible.

Typically, here's how my editing process goes:

I finish the story... we'll say it's done at 100,000 words (100k for short). I celebrate, eat a candy bar, and relax.

A week later, I read through it and fix everything. This means typos and things I've already thought about. I may decide to cut something or add something, but all told, the story will finish this edit around where it started: 98k.

I double-space it and print it out. Then, on the kitchen table or my desk, kneeling next to my bed or lying on the floor, I read it. You would not believe how different things look on paper. Clear Cut had cross-outs and insertions, mostly cross-outs, on the first 96 pages... and page 97 was five lines long. Entire pages, and chapters, were crossed out.

Then I type these up on the computer again. My insertions, on paper, are usually no more than a sentence; when they're longer, they tend to be messages such as 'You need Harry and Ron to have a conversation about cookies' or 'Foreshadow the upcoming death', where I get creative. However, I cut far more than I add in; by the end of this, it's probably at 80k, and I've been doing this for about two months.

This is when I send it out to friends to beta-read and try to forget about it; typically, I'll give them a time limit of 3-4 months to return it in. I try to forget about it, but honestly, this is when I typically read it over and over again, trying to write queries and a synopsis. (More on beta-reading in another post.)

When I get their comments, I compile their comments into one document and read through it, reading all their comments side on with it. This inevitably leads to-- guess what?-- more changes. Again, usually cutting. That 80k document will probably end up at 79k now.

Last time through, I read it aloud. Here's my rules for the read-aloud: I can't do it while listening to music, or anyone's around to make me feel self-conscious. I also have to stop whenever I realize I'm tuning out my own voice. Usually, there are dozens of 'That sounds so stupid! It should be said like this!' moments, and almost every time, it cuts words out. By the end, it's dropped to 75k.

Those four techniques-- things I've already thought about, printing it, beta-readers, and reading it aloud-- work well for me. I've been 'nitpicking' it for quite a while now, and currently-- under the advice of writer friends-- I'm not allowed to open my current manuscript again until July, so I can (hopefully) have an impartial view of it.

Keep in mind: these four techniques are good to start with, but you can look for others. The first thing is something no one's ever told me to do, but I find my other edits are less effective if I'm constantly distracted by comon speling mitsakes. The other things are widely recommended. Also, I don't outline my stories before writing them.

But you will likely have a shorter story after editing. In Stephen King's On Writing, he mentions that-- early on, before he was published-- an editor told him a second draft is a first drat -10%. As soon as he followed that advice, he had far more success. I'm willing to admit that, at my current stage of writing, much more of what I write gets cut than what he'd do, but that's okay. What's left is better than before.

And sometimes, putting a piece of work aside and ignoring it really is the best thing to do.

Happy Writing,

-Alaina

The Writing Commitment: Synopsis

I'm just going to start off by saying, right now, that I don't know what the plural of 'synopsis' is. I've seen synopsi, synopsises... I just know that spell check doesn't like any of them. Feel free to tell me what it is, if you know, in the comments.

Anyway.

The synopsis is important... and it's not important. It all depends on a huge number of factors.

IF YOU WANT AN AGENT... Synopsises may or may not matter at all. Nelson Literary never asks people to submit synopsises. If you read that agency's blog for a period of time, Kristin Nelson will mention that it's rare to see a well-written synopsis. However, BG Literary wants to see a synopsis with the query letter. Both of these agencies represent a large number of clients, including many award-winners and best-sellers, so you can't say anything about agency quality by their requirements. However, you should have one ready to go. My first synopsis was written in a panic shortly after my second partial request, when the agent wanted to see 50 pages and the (nonexistent) synopsis.

IF YOU WANT A TRADITIONAL PUBLISHER... Synopsises will probably matter. Agents will help you write and polish them, if you have an agent, but the overall synopsis will be your work. Synopsises are useful tools that allow even people who haven't read the book to have ideas about who the characters are and what occurs in it, which means they'll have easier times when discussing, marketing, and selling your book if you have a good one.

IF YOU ARE SELF PUBLISHED... A synopsis likely won't matter. In fact, many readers-- myself included-- will likely consider a full synopsis to spoil the book.

None of this, of course, answers the key question you may be wondering about right now:

WHAT IS A SYNOPSIS?

To put it bluntly, a synopsis is your book if it were two pages long. Actually, two pages might be pushing it; the most common request I've seen is for a one-page synopsis. Some are fine with two page, and before I started actively researching synopsis-needing agents, I heard of agents who would be okay with five-page synopsises... but I have a list of 50 agents I can submit to, and none of them would be okay with 5 pages.

Now, writing a synopsis is hard. I've found a lot of advice on doing it, but here are the key things you need to know.

First, decide who your main character is. If you have multiple viewpoints, many characters, choose one. Just one. Trying to do otherwise will give everyone involved a headache.

Try to start with a quick description-- maybe two or three sentences-- of who that character is. Then dive into everything else. Go in order-- I don't care if your story is written in flashbacks, start at the first event and keep going. Write in present tense. Name all of the key characters. Mention every major event. Include how it affects them.

This is all harder than it sounds, and will be doubly so because you're no doubt attached to your story. Try writing one or two synopsises about other stories to practice: the first Harry Potter, The Wizard of Oz, or even a movie like Avatar. Something you know really well. For examples, go to the following link; that has lots of practical advice, as well as a number of sample synopsises... but it may not be the most useful link, in many regards.

http://www.charlottedillon.com/synopsis.html

For more solid, practical and condensed advice, I'd recommend going here: http://www.stellacameron.com/contrib/synopsis.html

And, to be perfectly honest, the advice that helped me most was not about synopsises. By the time I found it, I had six or eight bad drafts, so I knew what I was doing, but this helped me put it to practical use. I'd recommend you start with the one-sentence pitch. http://blog.nathanbransford.com/2010/05/one-sentence-one-paragraph-and-two.html

That's all from me for now.

Happy Writing,

-Alaina

The Writing Commitment: Query Letters

A query letter is a one-page letter to show your interest. You have 250, 300, at most 350 words; 400 is really pushing it. In that letter, you have to include the following:

A nice greeting

Your name

Some information about you

What your story is about

Why anyone cares

Story title

Story length

Story Genre

A nice closing

Doesn't sound so hard, does it? At least... until you try to write one.

I'll be blunt. I suck at query letters. I have at least forty drafts for one story's letter, and even the best is somewhere in the mediocre territory. So instead of giving you much of my own advice, I'll give you advice from other people.

Miss Snark was an anonymous literary agent and blogger. Her advice is old-- some of the things she says about electronic queries and e-books can be safely disregarded-- but most of it is still sound. I'd love to link you to the specific place she said this, but alas, only the quote remains in my 8-page file of query advice. “Give me six sentences of no more than ten words each of WHO is doing WHAT to WHOM and WHY I should give a rat's ass.”

Miss Snark is probably in one extreme on query letters; I'm physically incapable of writing that. I've tried. Try it yourself a few times. Here's the most important thing, though: you need to make them want to read it.

There are dozens upon dozens of formulas out there; there are millions of guidelines; there's advice. Try it. Follow it. If you know the rules, you can break them, but it's good to know how much agents hate receiving colored paper and necklaces in with their letters.

Why do you want a good query letter, though?

See, a lot of agents only want the letter. Some get the letter and 5-10 pages of the story; some get the letter and a short synopsis; but all get the letter.

Nelson Literary Agency-- with several New York Times bestselling authors as clients, and only two agents-- got about 32,000 of those letters last year. Between the two of them, they took 17 clients. (Their full stats for 2012 can be found here: http://pubrants.blogspot.com/2013/01/2012-year-end-stats.html )

What do you think your odds are?

Now.

Half of those query letters weren't even in the running, really; they were people who didn't read the guidelines. Every agent has standards. If you wrote an erotic mystery, and you send it to an agent who represents picture books, you'd deserve that rejection, and yes, that DOES happen. Other people included in those half didn't put enough effort in.

Remember, there are 31,999 other people trying for the same agent. If you can't spell, don't follow directions, or prove to be annoying, why should that agent accept you? There are enough others out there.

Step one: do more research than just me.

Step two: follow the directions.

Step three: make it interesting.

The rest is up to you. Good luck.

Happy Writing,

-Alaina

The Writing Commitment: What Do Agents Do?

A literary agent is a very, very valuable person to have on your side. You can get published without an agent.

An agent is someone who knows the editors at a lot of different publishing houses, and can call them up and say, “I think you'll like this.” And they'll say, “Cool. Let me set aside these eighty books written by complete strangers to read yours, because I trust you.” Without an agent, your book is one of those eighty.

And then the publisher says, “We'd like to buy this. We'll give you three pieces of string and a muffin.” Only they put that in sixty pages of contract. And the agent is used to reading those contracts, and calls them up and goes “A ha ha ha ha no. You're giving us cash, buddy.” And they do. But when you get that contract.... good luck.

Let's say you found it and you're getting money. The publisher goes, “We'll give you a $5,000 advance.” The agent goes, “No way buddy, we want $30,000.” And so do you. The difference is, the agent gets $15,000 and the unagented writer gets $10,000. And yes, it's been proven that agented writers get better deals, everything else being equal.

The cover art for your novel is a bare-breasted chick. You call the publisher and go, “This is a middle-grade fantasy novel!” And they tell you, “We know what sells. You don't. Go away.” The agent calls them up and goes, “Do you think this is appropriate for a middle grade fantasy? Children that age want swords and sorcery. Why don't you look for a cat, since this has talking cats?” And the agented author winds up with a cover of a spooky castle, but that's okay, it takes place in a castle.

I could go on, but I think you get the idea.

There are good agents, and there are bad agents. For a list of bad agents, scam artists, and warning signs, check out Writer Beware ( http://www.sfwa.org/for-authors/writer-beware/ ). However, here's your most basic clue: if they ask you to pay anything-- ANYTHING-- run. 99% of the time, if they want you to pay, they're a bad agent.

Agents get paid when you do. Remember that $15,000 advance I mentioned earlier? Agents, on average, get 10-15%. They'd get $1500-2250 of that. Still more money than you get unagented.

So how do you get an agent?

There are several steps. Not all agents go through all the steps; on average, though, you can expect to do one or more of these things-- which I'll cover later.

Expect future posts on:

Query Letters

Synopsis: What It Is, Why It Matters

Rejection Letters: The different Types

Partial and Full Manuscript Requests: What They Mean
and maybe more!
 

Happy Writing,

-Alaina

The Writing Commitment: The Difference Between Self- and Traditionally-Published

Imagine you and a group of friends are are in a strange city on a holiday. Every restaurant is closed for the holiday, and you can't find anywhere to eat. It's almost noon. You remember seeing signs earlier for some sort of event in a park, so you go there... only to discover there are two events. Due to annoyances of timing, there are two cooking competitions scheduled for the same park at the same time, and you pause between them, taking them in. They don't open for another hour, so you have plenty of time-- as your stomach starts to growl-- to choose.

On the right are twenty tables in a neat square, each with two people standing behind them, tending to their hugely over-sized pots and adding last-minute ingredients. The cooks are all wearing aprons, have their hair tied back or otherwise out of the way, and are very nicely dressed. A quick read of the sign posted by the entrance tells you that these are the recent graduates from Hungry Harry's Cooking School. For $20, you can sample a cup from each of their chili's, then fill out a form on your favorite. The person with the most popular chili will get $5,000 towards opening their own restaurant.

On the left are at least a hundred tables, arranged in haphazard squiggles. Some tables have one person standing behind them; others have five or six. The cooks range from teens to grandmothers, some with hair tied back, others in hats, some with it loose; they range from wearing three-piece-suits to bathrobes. Each table has one or two pots on it, some very professional, others chipped and cracked but still holding. A quick read of the sign tells you that every entrant paid $1. You'll be given a mug for $5, and then you can wander the rows, sampling chili at will. Some people are giving away their chili, others are charging a nickel or even a quarter a ladle. When you leave, write down the name of your favorite chili, and the most popular person will get half the profits towards opening their own restaurant.

Which cook-off will you go to?

For those who haven't guessed right now, yes, the cook-off is a metaphor for the publishing industry. Right now, there are two main forms of publishing.

Traditional Publishing is when an author gets a publisher to publish their book. This is a long process, involving many negotiations. In the end, the publisher pays the author for the privilege of publishing that book, puts it in stores everywhere, and-- in return-- gets a large cut of the profits.

Self Publishing is when an author goes it alone. This is a much faster process. The author either pays someone to help or does every step themselves, advertising, creating cover art, getting it into bookstores, and covering the costs of doing so on their own. However, the author gets 100% of the profits, and can be published in a matter of days or weeks, not years.

Which of these is better?

A lot of people are saying the publishing industry is dead; I am not one of them. Yes, self-publishing is alive and well; however, the problem is the lack of gatekeepers.

If you went to the cook-off on the right, you were guaranteed to get a chef who had been to cooking school. Of those 40 chefs, one or two is probably lazy-- used canned ingredients, found a recipe online, didn't practice-- but the vast majority are good. To get there, they went through several classes, pleased several people, and spent a lot of time cooking.

To get traditionally published, you must do much the same. None of the major American publishers will accept unsolicited manuscripts, so most authors have an agent; an agent is a person that publishers trust to have good taste. Without an agent, when you submit your manuscript to any publisher, it will have to go through roughly six rounds of editors to get approved, and if any one rejects you, you get no further. With an agent, you still have to please one or two editors, but getting an agent is a challenge. A professional will edit it again for you (or suggest improvements to your recipe), a professional will do the cover art (or make sure you have an apron and your hair is out of the food), and a professional will advertise for you (or make sure they know you went to cooking school).

If you went to the cook-off on the left, you have no idea what you're getting. Everyone who couldn't get into cooking school is there. Sure, some people were just too young, too poor, or just didn't want to go to cooking school... but most are the cook-school rejects. Still, there might be some good chili in there.

If you self-publish, there is no way to let anyone know your manuscript is better than anyone else's. Everything, and everyone, is out there... and there's no way to know who's who. Some people have good presentation, good cover art, good grammar and spelling (they didn't need to be taught about aprons and hair). Some people are really good cooks, but only cook traditional Chinese food (you might have a great story, but if the publishers don't think they can sell it and make money, they won't buy it). And there might be some wonderful stories, but the author doesn't understand grammar or spelling very well (chili with hair in it, anyone?).

In amidst all this stuff, there are a few handfuls of people who could get published traditionally, a few chefs who went to cooking school years ago but couldn't afford their own restaurants. But, on average, 1/1000 self-published books are good quality. On average, 950/1000 traditionally published books are good quality. There may be accounting for taste, or genre, or anything else... but if you go traditional publishing, you are more likely to get somewhere.

And both places have the same eventual goal, don't they?

I'm trying for traditional publishing. If you're not, that's okay, but I'm going to talk about it now.

Future posts will cover query letters, synopsizes, and other minutiae.

Are you trying to get published yet, either the traditional way or self-publishing? Why? If you're not, are you planning to in the future?

Happy Writing,

-Alaina

Video Games, Movies, and Novels: Why a Game's Sense of Choice Creates Unique Plots

999 is a game for the Nintendo DS. It was released in 2010; it's past the point where spoilers should be applicable. Its full name, which it's rarely called, is 'Nine hours, Nine persons, Nine doors.' It has a sequel, released in October 2012, that I haven't played. In the interest of full disclosure, I haven't 'fully' played 999 either. I have only gotten four of the six possible endings.

Despite the game's age, I will try to explain it using as few spoilers as possible. Any specific examples I use will come from the first half of the game, and any excess information I include will be the sort of thing I would personally like to know before playing.

A Description of 999

999 is, in essence, a combination of two genres: Escape-The-Room game and Visual Novel. The premise is that nine people were kidnapped, drugged, and locked in a ship. The ship will sink in 9 hours. Each person has a numbered bracelet welded on their left wrist. In order to escape, they have to go into numbered doors and find things that will be useful to exploring more of the ship. They will escape if they can find, and go through, door 9.

This game relies heavily on math; not hard math, but addition and memory. A main example is how you open the doors. Every character has a bracelet with a number from 1-9 on it, and the doors are numbered 1-9. Doors can be unlocked using 3-5 bracelets... if the digital root matches the number on the door. Example: 3 + 5 + 6 + 8 = 22. 2+2 = 4 That combination of people can go through door 4. To prevent cheating, each bracelet is a detonator for a bomb. If the people who enter a door don't verify their numbers fast enough, they explode.

999 is rated 'M' for 'Mature'. There is swearing, but not excessive amounts; however, there is blood, violence, and I skipped quite a bit of the text because it made me feel queasy. M games are, by definition, not for children.

Now that that's over with...

What's an Escape-The-Room game?

Escape-The-Room games are simple, in concept, but usually require a lot of thought and effort to complete. While the 9-hour timer isn't enforced on the gamer, the characters are constantly mentioning how time is running out. This made me, the player, anxious about the amount of time everything took: when I struggled with a puzzle, I felt as though they were judging me, and often screamed at them to try it if they thought they could do better. I also demanded to know why they were standing around talking while time was ticking away.

Escape games require players to look at limited resources and normal objects and figure out what their specific purpose is. The very first puzzle of the game involves the player, trapped in a single room, to find specific objects. There are two slips of paper, with colored shapes (outlines and filled in) and arrows beneath them going from right to left. There's also a picture, screwed into its frame, and a screwdriver. If you use the screwdriver to take the back off a frame, you find a list of things such as 'triangle outline = 1' on it.... and the room happens to feature two combination locks.

This game has great replay value because of the different rooms you can go through. Every time, your character can only go through one of two or three different doors. Each door has its own puzzle. Player Note: Choosing Door 3 will force you to go through Door 2 next, no choice involved. Sadly, the puzzles are identical each time, down to the specific numbers needed to open locks, which means that doing certain puzzles-- such as the very first one-- can eventually prove rote. My first time through the game, puzzle 1 took 30 minutes. My last time, I doubt it took 5.

What's a Visual Novel?

A visual novel is, essentially, a game where the player makes choices for a character. Depending on what the player chooses, subsequent sections, and even the ending, may change. The results can alter the information a player receives, the choices available to them in the future, and so forth.

A basic example, though not one featured in the game: in a game about being stranded on a desert island with four people, two of them, Max and Lucy, are fighting. You are asked to take sides. Your options are to sit it out, take Max's side, or take Lucy's side.

If you take Max's side, then about three weeks later, in-game time, Lucy will find a new, reliable food source. She won't share it with anyone. If you took Lucy's side, she'll share it with you, and only you... leading to more decisions. If you didn't take a side, the game will have the last character find the food source, and no decision will be involved at all.

Why does 999 work as a game?

That's actually a very simple answer: every section of the game involves the person playing it to put conscious thought into what's going on.

Over the course of the game, choices arise with alarming frequency. There's the obvious, in terms of which door you enter and why... but there are smaller choices, and each of them can also change the ending you get. Smaller choices are things like which of two, or three, questions you ask another character; whether you encourage a character to talk about their past, or tell them to stuff it because of the time limit; even if you decide to humor another character's fears or laugh at them. Because these things change how the other characters react to you, and what information they're willing to give you in the future, you weigh these choices carefully.

Also of note: door 9 has to be opened by 3-5 people with a digital root of 9. What happens if seven people reach it? What happens if the only people left alive can't make 9?

Why would 999 fail as a book or movie?

That's simple: The element of choice, and the multiple endings, are vital in understanding what's going on.

Over the course of the game, there will be regular choices between which doors you go through. Each door will reveal something different about the plot.

First Choice: Door 4 or 5

Second Choice: Door 3, 7, or 8.

Third Choice: Door 1, 2, or 6.

Every choice will lead to your character getting different information and different character interactions, and all are essential to understanding the plot as a whole.

If you go through door 4, you'll learn about old scientific experiments and about psychic communications. Door 5, you'll learn about some mysterious circumstances and another character's approach to life. These things will affect what ending you get, and what information you can use later on.

If you go through door 3, for various plot-related reasons, you will only be allowed to go through door 2 after. This makes perfect sense in context-- if you need something specific to advance, why keep searching after you find it?-- but prevents other choices later, and gives you the very least amount of information.

IF your final choice is Door 2, you will always get ending F.

IF your final choice is Door 6, you could get ending B or E, depending on what other choices you made.

IF your final choice is Door 1, you could get ending A, C, or D, depending on what other choices you made AND WHETHER OR NOT YOU'VE GOTTEN A SPECIFIC OTHER ENDING AT LEAST ONCE BEFORE.

You see, ending A-- the game's 'real' ending, canonical, and the one that ends with the most people alive-- requires you to have information from Door 4 and Door 5 to make sense of it. It requires you to use information you only got in one of the other endings. And the explanation for how you, as the character, are capable of knowing this-- despite having never gained this information through this playthrough-- is explained in the in-game text, the conversations you had with other characters, in other playthroughs.

In a movie, in a book, that would be impossible. It requires the same person to make two opposite sets of choices, and gather information that's impossible to have, in order to proceed; movies and books, at present, have no way to 'lock' a person out of an ending, and people would feel cheated if it was attempted. In the context of a game, where starting over is seen as commonplace and being able to play a game again for a different experience is considered a way to raise its value, this is vital and valuable. In a movie or book, it would require either alternate realities-- which would strain reasoning and not make sense, given the final conclusion to the plot-- or to force the reader/viewer to re-watch or re-read the first quarter of the book/film each time.

If requested, I'll go into further detail about the plot of the game 999 in a future post, but that should give you a decent idea of why the very ability to choose, and alter, the plot of a story can be instrumental in gaming plots. Forcing a person to do the wrong things, and make the wrong choices, is a story device that can't be offered in books or movies as-yet.

Any questions? Opinions? Thoughts?

Next week, I'll focus on writing-- specifically, publication.

Happy Writing,

-Alaina

Video Games, Movies, and Novels: Stories and Mediums

Last week, last post, I took the same information, the same characters, and put out three possible openings. One movie, one book, one video game.

The question is, how different are they, really? Couldn't one work as another?

Well, let's examine that. Because, doubtless, there are stories out there-- simple ones-- where you could easily have things almost exactly identical as you go from book to movie, from movie to game. But not all.

The book's opening was very focused on senses. A boy hiding in the bushes; a girl talking to her father. Sight. Sound. Holes in shoes and facial expressions. A movie could probably do everything in there, except, possibly, for going into Mike's head and seeing how nervous he is. It wouldn't be as effective, though, because with the differing camera angles it would be hard to know which of these three characters is supposed to be the main one. A game could do everything the book did, except in a game, there's not enough action. The gamer would be watching all this occur, likely squirming in their seat, bored and waiting for something to happen. Gamers don't want to be spoon-fed this stuff. They want to discover it on their own.

In short, a book is able to show the reader exactly what they should notice, even going into characters' heads, in order to advance the plot. However, it is incapable of painting broad brushstrokes of interaction, and offers limited-- if any-- sense of choice.

The movie's opening deliberately painted a picture of town and life. Here's the boy's family; here's the garage, with a microwave and robot, and parents talking unconcerned. Here's a boy and a girl playing. Here's a shot of a spooky house. This would be ludicrous as a book. Can you imagine opening a book that's supposed to be about a kidnapping and reading all about a blue sky and a peaceful town, then reading about someones parents, and then reading about the actual character you want? I'd close the book on the first page. As a game, starting with an overview of the town might work, but the parents are minor characters at best. In a movie, showing that serves to establish character, but in a game, the first thing I want-- the first thing most people want-- is to know who the main character is and to control that character, in whatever form. This opening, going through a scripted game of catch only after featuring the town, the parents, and the scenery, doesn't do it.

A movie can use a single image in a single brushstroke to give major impressions of every aspect of the plot, but is limited in that it can only use images and sound to portray these things. It is incapable of taking a viewer into a character's thought process, and offers no sense of choice.

The game's opening features a strong emphasis on character interaction. At every stage, Lucy is asking Mike a question, and every point of the scene involves their interactions. More to the point, each and every choice you-the-player make is because of Lucy, and that alters both the outcome of each event and, likely, the information gained about Lucy. A novel could take a similar tact, but would be forced to go into the character's head, rather than let the interactions stand on its own. A movie could also do a similar scene, but would leave the viewer with an inaccurate picture of the town. Both other mediums would have to either decide which of the different events they'd show at each choice, or do a brief, detached summary of what else could/would happen.

A game gives the player a sense of importance, in that their actions and decisions will alter the plot, and by doing this greatly increases their attachment to characters and places, but is limited in that it cannot simply jump around. A game is greatly tied to its main characters, and cannot simply show the scenery, as a movie does, or go into detail about things unrelated to the characters that may be important, like a book.

Each of these mediums could tell this story, and this story would have the same characters, the same overall plot, and even the same ending, but they would have drastically different approaches through necessity. If any of these tried to tie itself to another, as many book and movie adaptations must do, it would strangle itself. A book's natural introspection falls flat in a movie or game. A movie's broad sweeps of setting are dull in books and games. And a game's sense of choice cannot be replicated in a movie or book.

There are stories that work well in two or three mediums, when done correctly. However, there are also-- by design-- stories that cannot be effectively replicated in other mediums. This is readily apparent by the number of books we love with movies we hate.

But it also applies to games, which isn't really thought about. Games are still seen largely as either 'educational', 'childish', or 'violent' with little in-between. However, that very element of choice is key in the best stories it tells... because it makes the player's interaction key in telling that story.

Next week, I'll go into detail about one game with a plot that I believe can't be changed into a book or a movie.

What's one movie-to-book you've hated? What's one book-to-movie? Are there any books or movies you think wouldn't work in the other medium? How about games? Why?

Happy Writing,

-Alaina

Video Games, Movies, and Novels: Same Opening. Three Mediums.

What are your reactions to each of these scenarios?

BOOK:

Mike hid in the bushes while his dad stopped the car and rolled down the window. Lucy, as ordered, stood right in front of the bushes. “Lucy, have you seen your brother anywhere?”

“I saw him at lunch!” Lucy threw the ball up in the air and caught it again. “Why?”

“Then why are you out here alone?”

“I'm not alone,” Lucy said, throwing the ball and catching it again. Mike held his breath and thought several swears. If she told... “Lyndsey and Audra just went to get some water.”

Mike didn't think Lucy knew anyone named Audra, and from his dad's expression, neither did he. “Well, when you see your brother, tell him we're not getting another microwave. If that one isn't put back together by this time tomorrow, he'll--”

“Be grounded for a month?” Lucy missed her catch this time.

“Exactly!”

Lucy waved as their father drove away. Mike came out when the coast was clear. “Good work, Luce.”

“I thought you said they wouldn't mind if we took apart the microwave?”

“I said they wouldn't mind the toaster. He didn't even mention that.” He tweaked the bow at the end of her braid, and she giggled, squirming away and tossing the ball. “I've gotta go to Brad's now. We've got a killer test tomorrow.”

“Aww, but I wanna play!” Lucy dug her toe in the dirt; she'd already worn a hole in her new sneakers.

“I'll buy you ice-cream when I ace it,” Mike promised, throwing the ball back. “Just stay out of trouble, be home by five, and stay out of the woods. That old house has started to fall apart.”

MOVIE:

Clear, blue sky over a small town. It pans down to one house, where a man sipping coffee opens the garage door to find half a microwave and a small robot doing a silly dance. The man stares, shakes his head, and calls over his shoulder, “Honey, Lucy helped Mike destroy the microwave.”

A woman is heard calling back, “Again?”

The scene continues to shift, through backyards and children playing, to the woods by the edge of town. There, a teenage boy and a young girl play catch. “Next comes a high one, Luce. You ready?” asks the boy.

The girl nods and plants herself. She dives, but catches the ball, and the boy claps her on the shoulder. “Good job.”

“Do you have to go study now?” The girl tosses the ball and catches it. “I'll have no one to play with.”

“Hey, I promised you ice-cream if I aced the test,” says the boy. He tugs on the end of her braid in a friendly manner. “Be home by supper, okay?”

“Okay,” says the girl, and waves as the boy runs off. She tosses the ball a few times, misses a catch, and it rolls to the edge of the woods. She stands there, looking in for a few moments, then walks in. The scene pans forward to an old, three-story mansion with a tall, chain-link fence around it, barbed wire on the top, the sky darkening around it, then fades away.

GAME

A short scene shows a boy crouched over a large amount of wires in what was clearly once a microwave, a young girl standing by. “Do you need the wire cutters, Mike?” asks Lucy.

Press A to pick up an item.

Mike picks up the wire-cutters, and instructions appear for how to use them, along with a puzzle to cut certain wires. After cutting four wires, Lucy asks, “Can I turn it on now?”

Yes/No

If you select No, you redo the puzzle. 

Yes, but failed the puzzle: Smoke fills the garage. Coughing, the two open the door and run outside.

 Yes, success: A small robot starts to dance. Mike turns to his sister, and they high-five, then run outside.

“Do you want to play catch by the woods?” asks Lucy, holding up a ball and two mitts.

Yes/No.

You select no, so Lucy says, “Please? We haven't played all weekend, and you promised!”

You're given the yes/no option again, but Lucy whines with each 'no', so eventually you select 'Yes' and she says, “Race you!” And takes off.

Instructions for movement appear, and you follow her-- or not-- through town. Depending on the detours you take, she'll appear, laughing and calling you slow, or out of breath and struggling, at different points. It's possible to win the race, if you know the route/have played this before. If you win, Lucy just flops on the ground, panting, while Mike says, “I won!” If Lucy wins, she teases you about being slow. If, though, you keep the race close-- Lucy is out of breath, and it would have been possible for you to win, but you didn't-- Lucy will do a full-out victory dance.

The game of catch is used to teach you how to throw items (it seems Mike is terrible at catching, as you must retrieve the ball from the ground each time) and, after three throws, are given the option to finish-- you can continue as long as you like. After, Lucy says, “Can we explore the haunted house later?”

“I have to study,” says Mike. “Brad and I are supposed to meet in an hour.”

“Please?

That place is dangerous/I don't think we can get in/ I'm scared.

(Choice A): “Aww, don't be so scared, Mikey. You'll protect me, right? No matter what happens?”

“Of course,” says Mike, tweaking her braid, and then you're told the route to Brad's house.

(Choice B): “I guess not. That gate's awful high, and it's locked. But what if we found the key?”

“If anyone could find the key, it'd be you, Luce,” says Mike, tweaking her braid. “But don't go exploring without me, okay?”

“Okay,” says Lucy, and you're told the route to Brad's house.

(Choice C): "You're lying, Mike. You're not scared of anything."

"Everyone's scared of something, Luce." Mike tweaks the end of her braid, and you're told the route to Brad's house.

Video Games, Movies, and Novels: You Can't Tell Stories The Same Way

Stories are stories are stories. Good prevails. Evil falls. Telling your kids 'Cinderella' and seeing the Disney movie and playing a game where you do puzzles to determine how much food to cook for the dwarves are not the same thing. Put this way, it seems obvious, but it's not.

I've often read, on the blog Murderati among other places, that you can use a movie or play's three-act structure to think about plotting novels. Yes, maybe you can. And you can likely see that same three-act structure in books, two. Act one: set-up. Act two: difficulties upon difficulties. Act three: Everything-on-the-line success-or-failure and denouement.

But how many times have we adored a book, gone to theaters, and walked out in a huff? How many times have we turned to someone and said 'The book's better' and had them believe it? How many people trust novelized movie adaptations, with 'based on the movie' on the cover? I sure don't. And, to compare and be fair: I enjoy the Lord of the Rings trilogy movies. The books put me to sleep.

This is for one very simple reason: these mediums have very different ways of interacting with the reader/viewer/player, and cannot be treated the same way.

The Hunger Games, book one/movie one, came out in theaters/DVD recently this year. The book was told entirely in first person, and included the heroine's paranoia about numerous events, her gradual working-out of different points, and her fears. The movie cannot see into her head, and had it tried, the effect would have fallen flat. Instead, the movie took advantage of the fact that the premise revolves around the games being televised, and-- in vital moments-- cued in commentators, sports-match style. It cut to a scene of people watching, shouting at the screen. If they'd tried to put those moments in the book, they would have fallen through, but they worked. Fans will vary on if the movie truly measure up, but I enjoyed them both.

The book-to-movie and movie-to-book controversy has a counterpart: I've never found a book-to-video game or movie-to-video game I've enjoyed. I think gamers have more caution, actually, because these knock-off games tend to be significantly worse than similar games that are not based on other media. And that has to do largely with the way these mediums are set up, and how they interact.

Let's look at plot, just to begin with. We'll give a very basic story premise: Mike's little sister Lucy goes missing, and his family recieves an ominous note saying they can have her if they find her. Mike learns Lucy is being held at the abandoned house on the edge of town, and sets off to rescue her alone.

You can have that plot in a movie, book, or game. Let's settle a few other things: Mike is 15, Lucy 7. Mike gets in a lot of trouble trying to invent things, fixed his family's car and toaster at least three times, and buys Lucy ice-cream every time he aces a test. Lucy hates dresses, loves playing baseball and hopscotch, and often helps her big brother with his projects. You can put any of these things in movies, games, or books.

But how would those books, movies, and games start?

Tell you what. Next week, instead of a blog entry, I'll post three openings to that story. One novel, one movie, one game. And when I do, I hope you'll tell me how you would react to the three examples.

Happy Writing,

-Alaina

The Writing Committment: Finishing Your Work

This week I wrote 1441 words on a project.

Some of you are looking at that number and saying, "That's nothing." Others see at that number and say, "That's a lot." Here's the important thing: in one respect, the number doesn't matter.

What matters is that it's progress.

The most important step to publication is getting something complete, from beginning to end, that makes sense. It may not be good, but it makes sense. A person could read it and turn to you, frowning, to say "Lisa Stone vanished without a trace on page 107, and I wish I had some idea how the phases of the moon determine the strength of unchanged werewolves, but I love how they had to use the moon to trap the werewolves and launch them into space, since the main character's a rocket scientist and they spent the first half of the story trying to solve the werewolf murders."

...I'd actually like to read that. Maybe I should try to write it, once I have fewer projects.

But to get back to the point: completing a draft is the hardest part. It's the part most people fail at. To get from 'Chapter One' to 'The End' without leaving long sections blank, without saying 'Rocks fall everyone dies.' And the best way to get from point A to point Z is to make a commitment.

There are plenty of writing books and guides out there that advocate writing every day. That doesn't work for everyone. What matters is you make a commitment and stick to it. That commitment can be anything, so long as it's something you can stick with.

Stephen King, in his book On Writing, advocates reading for 3 hours a day and writes every morning until he gets 2000 words. I've had my 2000 days, but doing that every day leaves me exhausted. So instead, every day, I get my 100. I don't do it at any set time-- possibly a good thing, since I work fast food and never have a set schedule-- but I get my 100 words. That's just a paragraph, not even a long one; I can get that, surely. And almost always, I get more than 100, because just sitting down and writing leads to more writing. That's an every-day approach that works for me, and I think it's recommended to new writers because it's so easy to fall into. Small numbers, no pressure. It's not like blocking off 5-7 PM every Wednesday, something I tried that lead me to spend 90 minutes staring at my ceiling. But it guarantees 700 words each week... and sometimes more.

I currently have four projects. I'm ignoring one; I can't edit until it's sat for another month or two. Another is in the final stages of editing before being queried. The last two are works in progress. Rough drafts. Unfinished. One less than 5000 words; the other less than 15000. They were started at the same time, but one of them I decided-- months ago-- to focus on. The other gets a word or two... when I feel 'inspired'. This week, it got 253. I doubt that one will ever get finished. For the other? 100 words a day is 3-5% of a novel a month, depending on length... but once I start, it's hard to stop.

If I only ever wrote 100 words a day, I would finish a novel in 2-3 years. That's a long time, but it's a finish. And it's a commitment that I can keep.

Try finding something you can keep to. Make your stance. Start writing.

And enjoy it.

Happy Writing!

-Alaina

What It's About

There are two main themes I'll be discussing in this blog.

One is writing and publishing. In an upcoming series of posts, titled The Writing Commitment, I'll explain my process-- and give outside examples-- of how to stay on track as you write and publish a book. Since I'm currently unpublished, the later posts will include much more outside reference than the first few. But, here's the thing: you can't control if you get published. You can control if you write-- and write well.

The other theme is plot in various media. There are the obvious: books, movies, television, video games... yes, video games. I'll have them as a focus. The way you approach plot, and the way the world is shown, is different depending on your medium. Video games are largely overlooked, but they tell amazing stories... and they're usually stories that traditional media can't, or won't, tell.

I'll update this blog every Sunday, EST, until further notice. Since my schedule is erratic, you'll be better off checking on Mondays.

Happy Writing!

-Alaina

Work In Progress

Something not yet finished.

A rough draft.

Unformed, unshaped, but still out there.

My name is Alaina, and I'm an unpublished novelist. I've been researching the industry, and studying the craft, for years. I've received plenty of rejections, but among them are 'try us again' and 'keep going' personalized ones; it's kind of like being called in for a job interview but not making it to a second interview round. But I'm getting better.

If you're here, you might know me in person, you might be a fellow writer, you might want to read one of my many posts, or this may still be up at that far in the future point where I get published. Either way, you're welcome.