A Script by Any Other Name Would... Smell?

Ok, that's not the best Romeo and Juliet reference, unless I mean to imply all game developers smell their monitors when they pull up Confluence. Which we don't. I would hope.

The first article I wrote talked about metatexts, and the perspective I wanted to share was that the journey is just as important as the product, where the people involved in making the vision a reality will be more affected and changed by their individual actions before the total sum makes its mark. In writing about metatexts, I built on a base idea about our common mediums that I’ll explain here. (Look, we had to make posteriori jokes first, ok? It was very important.)

Design docs… are scripts.

That’s it, that’s the post. Design docs are scripts, we can pack it up, let’s go home.

But why is that an important comparison to make? It’s an easy one to draw, definitely. As with comedy and food, here’s a set of three to think about.

First, the flow of a script, like many stories, usually follows a chronological sequence. A happens, therefore B happens, which makes C interesting when that happens next, and so on and so forth. The sequence of events, one after the other, build and complicate the story for the audience, challenging current conceptions of the story to create new paradigms and new structures to further develop the performance.

Here, chronology can refer to the procedural nature of developing features in their various stages of completion, the creation of required code or blockers in order to create a new wrinkle in the fold of a game, or any interpretation that’s reflective of a single-step process.?

But, let’s consider the actual truth of the matter - if we waited for one thing at a time to be completed to specifications or perfection, nothing would ever release on time. So, of course, concurrent development is the name of the game here.

Our second consideration is this: in order for a script or feature to lift off the page, collaboration to make concurrency possible. Rehearsal doesn’t hammer away at one scene until it’s performance ready and then move on to the next one. Rather, the actors work together to create a framework with the director and then are called to iterate upon their own mastery in their own dedicated time.

Sounds pretty similar to creating a framework for a developer’s slate of work, right? The basis for creating a game is not the completion of one feature at a time, but the parallel development of several, creating a singular vision with each separate channel of work. At the very end, when it comes time for us to put it all together, we can see what fruits were borne.

“But, Pranshu,” I hear you say, “you’ve barely talked about scripts at all. How can we feel confident saying that design docs are scripts?”

Don’t worry, I got you. Our first two points were about implementing scripts and transforming them into work. Neither of these points see iteration at all without a crucial first step, which is also our third point.

Point the Third! When a scene of a script is considered - not even the full script - the first thing that happens is the analysis and breakdown of the scene. Who arrives in the scene? Where are they coming from? What happens in the scene that becomes the thread for the next scene, and the script as a whole? What has to have happened for this scene to have happened? What are our most important moments to build toward in the scene, and what does each individual beat mean? What gives us our foundation before putting the script on its feet?

Those are some of the wider questions. The analysis also requires granularity. For a given character, what are their stakes? What is their goal? What actions come together to create their contribution to the scene? What is their own personal perspective? What does an individual actor need to consider for the scene to work, and what work needs to happen in order to create that result?

In a script, the written word contains intention, and while interpretations can vary, a consensus on its meaning creates a language of performance. That common language then becomes a way for each collaborator to work through the various scenes of a script. In the hands of an adroit director and versatile actors, the result of that collaboration is the various actions of the script. As each rehearsal is codified into structured performance (cough cough a priori metatext cough cough), those actions become requirements that each performer must complete, in the order of the script, with the intention of the story weaving its way through the audience.

It all starts with those first analyses - the understanding of what work is required, and the prioritization of each moment in the scene, broken down line by line, act by act, moment by moment - with communication and collaboration at the core building toward that final product of performance.

You know, when I put it that way, that sounds like breaking down a design doc, roadmapping and building out tasks for developers to implement and complete while creating a definition of done for the described work.

Huh. Wild.

Anyway, see you next week.