While I was at AireCon over the weekend (more of that on Thursday), I was reminded of the power of the gesamtkunstwerk idea: every aspect of your project should be thought of as part of the whole. If the designer, artist, and salesman all go their own way, then what you end up with is confusion in the minds of your audience. Every aspect of a project needs to be working towards the same goal.

When someone encounters your game, they’ll quickly form an impression of what its story is: pirates seeking gold in the sun-soaked islands of the Caribbean, grubby adventurers fighting monsters in the darkness, or slick politicians wheeling and dealing in the hushed corridors of power. Think of this as the movie your audience plays in their heads. The artwork is the most immediate spark for this, and it’s important, sure. However, it’s far from alone. Once this initial impressions has been formed, the rest needs to work with it rather than against it. Each part should enhance the image in their heads, sharpening focus, adding background detail, and refining the tale. Layout, font, paper type, language, iconography, and many, many other aspects can influence this movie before you even get to how the game plays (which ideally confirms everything the audience has experienced so far). 

This is how I conceptualise much of what I’m doing, whether it’s art, writing, or games. I’m helping my audience to tell themselves a story, and as humans are largely visual creatures, that’s often in the form of an internal movie as much as an internal monologue.

The first step in doing this well is being very clear in your own mind what story you want to tell. It’s best to write this down, as the tendency is always to drift as the development process goes on. Writing it down gives you a touchstone to return to when that great new idea threatens to take you off somewhere completely different. Now you may find that changing course part way through is your best bet. I’d just suggest that when you do it’s best done as a deliberate thing, not an accident. That’s where the written version helps.

As a side note, if you do change your story part way through development, then your new (and additional) challenge is that you now have what amounts to two similar, but different, stories cohabiting in the same game. You’ll probably need to tweak the work you’ve done prior to your change in order for the whole thing to be cohesive. Not impossible. Not even a bad thing (if deadlines are moved appropriately). Just needs doing deliberately to work well.

There are plenty of examples of this not being done properly. I’m sure I’m not the only one who’s played a game that seems to be trying to tell me two different tales at once. Some games have great chunks that feel like they’ve drifted in from an entirely separate project, unrelated to the rest, and this changing course in mid-stream is often the root of the problem. This, plus not being given the necessary time to properly smooth over the joins. Drifting from your aim during development is so easy to do and so gradual, that without a written anchor you can easily run aground. By routinely referring back to your initial statement, you can see when you’re drifting, and make whatever changes you choose consciously rather than by inattention.

Over the years I’ve talked to many people who only had the fuzziest idea of what their game was about. Don’t worry if this is you. It’s sometimes me too. To avoid this, I’d encourage you to define your story clearly and early, and to do this you’ll need to ask yourself questions. Then some more questions. Your answers will turn up way more stuff than you’ll need to include in the final game, but it helps you feel confident and deepens your own understanding. In the future, when talking to potential customers, reviewers, or whoever, you’ll be able to answer anything they ask about the why of your project as well as the what and how. This will give them a positive impression of assuredness and solidity. Your confidence feeds theirs. This is a Good Thing.