How do you overcome game limitations to tell your story?

I agree, the environment and locations play a huge role in not just the design of the game but also in conveying the story. For example the game Raji has used environments in a great way to tell the story. There are locations within the game where the character can stand and hear the backstory while viewing a large painting on a wall. These paintings sit well with the environment and the locations as well. This is a great way to use the environment and locations for storytelling.

Progress in game isn't just progress in plot. On Dustland Runner we were able to lock together three things: -The player's fitness journey -The exploration of the environment -The character's slow ascent from terrified survivor to highly skilled adventurer. If someone's making their way through an environment that environment can tell them Everything. I had a cult worshipping a red bakelite telephone in a temple for one episode; instantly clues you in that a long time has passed since the present day and that the need for communication is essential to the point of veneration. The really good news is you can trust yourself on this. Your influences will sub-consciously manifest this stuff in your scripts. You just need to build on them.

I believe another outstanding example of a game where limitations play a pivotal role in shaping the player's experience is 'Brothers: A Tale of Two Sons. The game's unique control mechanic, where each thumbstick on the controller corresponds to one of the two brothers, imposes a physical limitation on the player. This limitation fosters a deeper emotional connection as players navigate challenges that require the cooperation of both characters. The restriction becomes a metaphorical representation of the brothers' dependency on each other, reinforcing the game's central theme of sibling bonds and cooperation in the face of adversity. By embracing these limitations, the game creates a powerful and immersive narrative experience.

Some of the most iconic environmental storytelling is in Thief: The Dark Project (1998), where you are stealing a sword from a mansion. It starts out like any other mansion, but soon turns out to be an Escher-esque madhouse filled with secret rooms. Clearly, the person you are stealing this sword from is insane. After finishing the mission, it turns out the person who employed you for the job was also the owner of the building... It foreshadows just how your interactions with this person will work out. Finding this level of continuity between the story being *told* and the player story as *experienced* is a hard feat, but one worth attempting!

Continuing on the role of environment in storytelling, in "Journey," the environment takes center stage as a powerful storytelling tool. The vast desert landscape becomes a canvas for conveying emotions, exploration, and discovery. Without relying on text or dialogue, players embark on a wordless narrative journey, forming companionships and experiencing a profound sense of connection. The shifting sands, ancient ruins, and ever-changing weather mirror the emotional highs and lows of the protagonist's quest. Through this interactive environment, players feel the story's mood and progression on a deeply personal level, making "Journey" a remarkable example of how an environment can serve as the backbone of storytelling in gaming.

I believe another outstanding example of a game where limitations play a pivotal role in shaping the player's experience is 'Brothers: A Tale of Two Sons. The game's unique control mechanic, where each thumbstick on the controller corresponds to one of the two brothers, imposes a physical limitation on the player. This limitation fosters a deeper emotional connection as players navigate challenges that require the cooperation of both characters. The restriction becomes a metaphorical representation of the brothers' dependency on each other, reinforcing the game's central theme of sibling bonds and cooperation in the face of adversity. By embracing these limitations, the game creates a powerful and immersive narrative experience.

Gameplay, and changes in its state, are an extremely powerful and cost-effective way to convey story in a game without introducing complex arcs or expensive assets that ultimately inflate file size or content generation in itself. Nightfall, for example, occurs naturally and doesn't need to be explained to players. A change in state can signify a heightened sense of danger or introduce entirely new mechanics. Snow or ice can seamlessly add an element of survival or modify existing mechanics. If your character can fly and has superhuman strength, it is implied that they are a superhero, without the need to say it. Once your initial narrative is set, let changes to gameplay help tell your story throughout the player's journey.

Restrictive limitations push designers into a corner and force more creativity. Having too many toys to play with often can actually hinder amazing ideas that only spring from being under pressure.

Again, progress is progress if that's running or flying a ship. I'm playing, and loving, Starfield at the moment and just did my first mission as a Vanguard pilot. Going from 'Terrified miner' to 'Captain Cooper Duffy, Vanguard' felt REAL, felt like I was taking a step out into a wider universe. Because I was, and so was my character. The more you go, the more you see.

LIMBO, INSIDE, and LITTLE NIGHTMARES come to mind here — exceptional storytelling without a stitch of dialogue. In each example, atmosphere and gameplay drive the story forward, creating tension and and dilemmas through puzzles, platforms, and choices. When narrative works closely with game design, you pull off compelling mechanical storytelling.

Limitations are essential, because otherwise the game project would never ship. The most important task early on for the vision holder is to define the bounds within which innovation will happen. This will provide creative guidance and push for establishing the core design pillars for the game. Later into project, core pillars continue to save a lot of time and ensure focused development. Games are complex entities that benefit greatly when the whole team is aligned about the vision and both agree to and acknowledge its limitations.

Personally, I love limitations. They can spark creativity in the most unexpected ways. We often tend to overcomplicate things, especially in design. And we seem to mistake that for being incredibly creative. Shackling ourselves can help us get the most of limited resources we were given. Helps us go deep instead of going broad. Any kind of constraint can make that happen: time, budget, availability of talent, engine or even space. Super Mario Bros fits a cartridge with storage so tiny it couldn't hold a .txt containing Hamlet by Shakespeare. But somehow, they made one of the most influential games of all time. My bet is constraints played a big role in that.

Treat gamedev like theatre: You can never afford your dream set, and you have to think about concepts as 'allusions' instead of tangible constructs. The more generalized your sounds, animations and assets are, the easier it is to re-use them in other contexts - and by extension, change the symbolic meaning they have in the player's POV.

Sometimes an artificially created limitation can result in a great game! Check out "Kingdom: Classic" - the game features just 1 currency, a 2D linear world, and no tutorial, but is rated as one of the best in the category.

Look at the limitations as borders of your fictional universe. If you know what you are doing, you can even embrace emotions that are seemingly outside your game borders; If you look at every element of a game narrative as a tool for enhancing emotions, you will find equivalent tools that are already in your box that can stand for that same emotional experience. Say you are after an open-world feeling; inside a game that is not open-world for the sake of example... Then you will go after the feeling of the open world and try to find it in your own toolbox. If you know yours well.

'Survival is a team sport' was a line that came up in one of the scripts and became our team motto both as characters and creators. I'm red hot on dialogue and narrative arcs. My staff writer is fantastic on comedy and moments of full on horror. Our lead voice actor brought incredible nuance and insight to character creation. Our lead designer took everything and made it lived in, real and new and old all at once. You can't and shouldn't do all of this alone. Work with other people, learn when to compromise and when not. Survival is a team sport. So is storytelling. Join a team.

Collaboration, communication, coordination. 75% of the role of a game writer/narrative designer is those three Cs, with a pinch of time for writing between. If you head into the industry expecting head-down writing time for 40 hours a week... surprise! Most of the job is talking to other people. Generating ideas, iterating on work, solving problems, progress updates — that collaboration is crucial to a cohesive game that gets shipped (relatively) on time.

Creating games is a joint effort, where all contribute their unique skills and cultural perspectives unless you go solo. More diverse backgrounds contribute to a greater emotional and intellectual range, enriching the game's narrative and player interactions. Build the right team for the game: Collaboration brings a broad perspective to overcoming possible game design limitations. Consider the key selling points of your game and ensure your team stands behind those choices. Acknowledge team members' unique strengths. For example designer can have a knack for storytelling. When you leverage cross-disciplinary strengths, you are not just optimizing workflow but also cultivating a dynamic environment where creative brainstorming thrives.

I believe that the repetitive game cycle, where players perform similar actions, can actually be a perfect setup for a dramatic narrative. All it takes is some boldness to experiment and try different approaches. Even when games have technical constraints like limited graphics or voice acting, they can still tell powerful stories. Games like "Undertale" show that even with simple graphics and quirky characters, you can evoke strong emotions and narrative depth. The game cycle, with its repetition, allows for character development and tension-building, similar to acts in a play. Technical limitations don't hold it back; they often fuel creativity.

Yo, game designin' ain't all glitz and glamour, my peeps. When them limitations tryna cramp your style, you gotta get jiggy with it. First, keep it OG - Original Gameplay. Sometimes, them tech limits can birth the dopest innovations. Embrace the constraints, and you might stumble upon a fresh approach. Second, remember, less is more, like a smooth beat. Focus on what's crucial for your story to shine. And lastly, think outside the box, my gamers. If the game engine's actin' shady, find a workaround that's so fly it'll make your players go "Fo shizzle!" So, when game gives you limits, flip 'em like a mixtape. Get creative, stay true to your story, and you'll be gamin' like a G in no time. ??????

"Kill your darlings." The age-old adage in storytelling extra applies when it's interactive. Your ideas might seem great in a prototyping vacuum, but if they fail the playtest, knife up, 'cause it's time to stab some darlings. Break down what's working and improve what's not. Your darlings will become little Frankenstein's monsters of collaborative creativity, and better for it.

I would argue that, aside from some standard tropes that help anchor the player in the game, it's not just that you don't have to settle for the first solution, but that you *shouldn't*. At least, not until you've explored some other approaches. It's imperative that game writers and narrative designers are flexible and willing to change elements. Game development is always subject to some constraints and limitations, and aspects of the game change all the time. It's so important not to be too precious about your work and keep in communication with the development team to ensure that concerns on either side don't fester.

This is a very complex discussion between the ludo and narrative aspects of games. Some authors argue that the act of playing is an act of telling a story, others defend that they are different aspects, and when we try to embed games with narrative elements, such as dialogue and cutscenes, we are jeopardizing the ludic aspect of gaming - and player agency. What I believe is that even games that are not story-focused, tell a story. The story is what you tell the audience. The narrative is how. The biggest strength of games is to have mechanics that can tell stories. I would even go further and say that Mechanics = Plot = Character = Theme for games. The best stories are the ones where every premise is echoed through all game elements.

Picture a scale between Authorship on the one hand and Emergence on the other. If your desire is to tell a specific story and have every player engage with an identical experience of your design, then you are leaning towards Authorship. A colleague called these types of games (modern God of War, The Last of Us, etc.) "sonylikes:" spectacle-driven authored experiences. On the other hand, if you want to provide a framework where the player of your game can experiment, have more unpredictable experiences, and make their choices with reasonable consequences, then you are aiming for a more Emergent experience.