One of the things Freeman bemoans in his criticism of the majority of videogame writing is “robo-speak”, which he defines as flat, characterless but most importantly emotionless dialogue. In an effort to see the difference the application of his NPC Interesting Techniques make, let’s rough out some robo-speak in our script.
I stare at her whilst wondering how we got here. Tears well up in her eyes as the darkness of fear grips her soul. Soul? That’s something for song and she’s lost her voice. So, tears well up in her eyes as the darkness of fear grips her . That’s good enough for me, really. She whimpers. Whimpering is good, it equates to submission, but it distracts them. They look at her, all doe eyed and meek, weapons dipping as uncertainty crashes into their minds. That’s not good enough for any of us. I kick her in the face. She snaps back at my retreating foot, desperate for meat and blood, fangs bared, animal lust visible to all. She’s scared and hungry, then.
NPC Interesting Techniques. I’ve said it before, but Freeman really doesn’t do his credibility any favours using terms like this. He means ‘Ways to Make NPCs Interesting’.
We’ve covered a lot of this chapter already but it’s worth a quick recap. Freeman introduces his ‘Character Diamond’, a list of around four (hence diamond) Traits that serve as an outline and a thumbnail sketch for major NPCs. You create a list for each character and then measure the dialogue you write up against that list to see if you’re keeping the personality of that character clear and coherent.
The term “Dutch courage” is synonymous now with drunken bravado. Back in the day it was an insult, used by the English to denigrate their foreign rivals – a Dutch man is no kind of man if he has to drink to be brave, as they believed.
I despair at my fellow Brits sometimes. Ridiculous as it is to tar an entire nation with the same brush, when you’re tired and travel-weary and bored of airport queues and worrying about whether or not you’ve got all your paperwork in order, it’s not hard to let your usually rigorous moral standards decline. Such was the passport queue at Schipol airport, waiting impatiently in line to get access to the Netherlands and specifically Amsterdam. Three young lads with thick Birmingham accents wait behind me, nervously assessing the formality of the passport control area. Off to one side is a desk labelled largely in English, ‘Immigration Enquiries’, sporting the most marvellously varied collection of human beings. Indian, African, South American, oriental extractions and many varied white Europeans, all distinctive in that peculiar way that defies the homogeneity of modern living against all preconceptions.
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