Speaker 1: This is The Writing Game, and I'm Gregory Pellacci. Since the dawn of time, our storytelling arts have been split into two genres, tragedy and comedy. It's the idea behind the two masks used to signify plays in theaters. It's a dualism that speaks to us for its simplicity. But it's far from accurate. Comedy is tragedy plus time. Carol Burnett. Genre is a tricky concept when it comes to the arts. It's both a means of description or categorization, as well as a marketing methodology. But these days, genres do little to actually describe a piece of art, especially when the artwork flows across genres, or as is the case with video games, has to incorporate both systemic genres and storytelling or artistic genres. Which is why it's bad to describe anything ever as comedy. I'm not the first person to say this. The much-referenced Mark Bernardin has readily said this a dozen times. Comedy isn't a genre, it's a device. A device is a method or tool in storytelling and art that aids in getting the creator's message across. It's not a genre unto itself, but it can be used as a means of categorization, as any commonly occurring idea can. Similarly, satire and pastiche aren't genres, but tools. And ones usually associated with the aforementioned comedy. Yet comedy is not a requirement for them. Take Animal Farm, for example, by George Orwell. It's a satire, but far from comedic in its tone or telling. So what's a genre? Well, according to Sean Coyne in The Story Grid, a genre is a label that tells the reader or audience what to expect. Genres simply manage audience expectations. Expectations are everything. They help us as creators determine what elements to include, be they story, art, or game mechanics. As an audience, they help us find a project we're interested in playing. It's why when I hear walking simulator, I expect story and a well-told one. But I know that's pretty broad and could encompass anything from Firewatch to Tacoma to What Remains of Edith Finch. Each of those games, while first-person in an often-considered genre, have drastically different storytelling genres and techniques. Tacoma is clearly science fiction, or as it's sometimes called, speculative fiction. Firewatch falls between a mystery and a character drama, while Edith Finch is readily classified as magical realism. All of those terms in no way refer to gameplay or the systems that work in the games, but the storytelling within. As such, they create certain expectations for what we'll find within them. It comes as no surprise that in Tacoma, we're dealing with spaceships, space stations, zero gravity, and artificial intelligence. For Firewatch, it's expected that a crime will be solved. And in Edith Finch, we know we'll be pushing the boundaries of our reality. Gameplay mechanic genres are a tricky thing, as none of the current terms is terribly useful or accurate, nor are they necessarily inclusive to all the possibilities they present. What is the difference between an action-adventure and an adventure game? Other than perspective, what do you learn about a game when it's called third-person shooter versus first-person shooter? Comedy faces the same problem. As a description, it's meant to say that we're going to laugh. Problem is, humor is highly subjective. As Alan Yang, co-creator of Master of None, said on The Dave Chang Show.

Speaker 2: Not only does comedy not age, it doesn't travel. So like, you think Asia gives a fuck about Will Ferrell? They don't care. It just doesn't, because comedy is so specific to a community, to a place in time, and to your identity. It's all of those things. So that's why a comedy is never going to be the highest grossing movie ever made. It's just not. It's just too specific. It's too personal. It's too cultural. It's too cultural. Explosions sell. Explosions sell. Animation sells. Sex sells. Yeah. Sci-fi. Look at the top 10 movies of all time. It's all computer graphics and cool visuals, because that stuff is universal.

Speaker 1: Of course, it's more than visuals that are universal. It's the stories, the tropes, the ideas, the characters, their feelings that are universal. In a visual medium, inevitably, the visuals help sell those memories. But Alan Yang is right about what comedy is and isn't. Of course, he's professionally funny and a writer to learn from. His insights stand, regardless of whether we're talking movies or video games. Comedy isn't funny to everyone. Case in point, think of any literature class you may have had in school. In my case, it was English, which meant we were studying Shakespeare. His work is divided into the aforementioned two genres, tragedies and comedies. Midsummer Night's Dream is one of Shakespeare's comedies, except I don't find it funny. And I can't think of any of my classmates that did either. Of course, with time, maybe that's changed, but by and large, it doesn't elicit a laugh. Some of that may be how it was taught. After all, a play is meant to be performed and not read. But I like to think my point stands. Comedy as a genre is a misnomer, especially in games. With the fact that you're laying systems on narrative, or as some game devs do, narrative on systems, at no point in that process is comedy the defining point of what makes the game. Especially with how repetitive games are. Some comedians argue that if something is funny the 3rd, 5th, and 7th time it's done or said, then it'll always be funny. The problem with that idea is it ignores what may be problematic about the joke, who the joke is about, or whether it's even culturally relevant. Seth Meyers, for example, makes a lot of jokes about the Trump administration, and rightfully so. However, what I find off-putting about a lot of them is how centered on the appearance of the various individuals they are. Sure, there are old white men in positions of power and privilege doing horrible things to the world, but that doesn't mean they should be targeted for their appearance. Doing so distracts and ultimately undervalues the purpose of the jokes, which is to point out the flaws in their actions, the absurdity of the situation, and the sheer what-the-fuckery of it all. Humor is a release valve. It's why even in the darkest drama or tensest thriller, there are often moments of levity. Times when one character or another makes a joke, cracks wise, or otherwise comments about their situation and how screwed up it is in a humorous manner. Humor as a tool is used similarly in the try-fail cycle in resetting the amount of tension, so it can be amped up again and again over the course of a story. Tension and odds aren't necessarily the same, but as additional complications or failure occur, upping the odds, then generally the tension is increased as well. The problem, as Will Schroeder pointed out in his video essay, David Foster Wallace, The Problem with Irony, is that the reliance of humor in every scene to comment ironically on the present situation, it ultimately undermines its purpose in terms of character building, pressure relief, and humor. If that's the type of humor used throughout a piece of art, then can it really be called humorous or a comedy? What there is, rather than laughs, is an air of disdain and misery. This is not me dismissing irony, it has its place, but within constraints. Irony relies on the viewer, or the player in this case, to be in on the joke and aware of the absurdity of the situation, otherwise it just comes across as an empty comment. A game like The Stanley Parable makes use of irony, it's playing on the tropes of video games and what's expected from players, but it's not the only form of comedy used. The writers made use of other techniques, some of which we'll explore in a bit. Irony or not, well-ranked characters seek to affect change, not just writhe around complaining about it since any attempts at comedy aren't about affecting anything but pointing to the obvious. In games, this becomes tiresome extremely quickly because of the swiftness that the jokes are repeated. So what can be done to avoid the numerous pitfalls of making a game that's funny? Funny in this instance implies humorous or comedic, but of course that's not a given. The first step, avoid irony. Not entirely, but as a crutch. If every joke is on the basis of a character cracking wise about the situation or making reference to the fact that they're in a game, then the player will quickly tire of the character's jabbering. Jazzpunk makes use of irony in limited amounts. Similar to the aforementioned The Stanley Parable, Jazzpunk dots its world with only small comments on games and game mechanics, but never at the expense of everything else going on. The second step, diversify the humor. Scott Adams, the creator of Dilbert, identified six dimensions of humor. By combining those dimensions, he's able to continually create new comic strips and develop jokes, as well as cross cultural boundaries and generations. Weirdly, before I ever had a job, I read an odd amount of Dilbert. The six dimensions of humor are naughty, clever, cute, bizarre, mean, and recognizable. Mixing two or three or more of the dimensions will result in jokes that appeal to more than one person and may, in fact, last longer. Of course, there's no guarantee. For more on these six dimensions of humor, check the show notes or simply search for Scott Adams dimensions of humor. The problem with diversifying humor is how poorly that ties in with game mechanics, which by their nature are meant to be repetitive and easy to scale. Repetition is the antithesis to good humor, or what we think of as good humor writing. Just think of any time someone's repeated a joke you've told right after you've told it. It's not funny in either sense of the word. The third step, review and edit. Comedians know you have to hone your craft. Few people are inherently funny, and to get their jokes to land during a set takes practice. That includes learning when to cut a joke or tighten up a punchline. Games writing so often doesn't include time for editing, but if the game is meant to be funny, then there's an even greater need for editing, especially for games that have to be localized. I've proofread the scripts for some games being localized, and I could readily identify issues with the humor that weren't going to be translatable or funny to others. Firewatch wasn't one and done when it came to the number of drafts of its script. Sean Vanaman was constantly writing and rewriting and honing the story, the lines, the encounters to create a better game, and that applied to the humor as well. Of course, Vanaman couldn't know how each scene would ultimately land with individual players, but he had intent. Through rewriting, testing with players, and running the script by the rest of the Campo Santo team, they were able to refine all the elements of the game, even the comedic moments. Games given their confluence of other arts inevitably have to consider more when attempting comedy. There's a timing of animations, not just dialogue, sound effects, the art style, and the animations themselves, the aforementioned localization, etc. And worst of all, a joke may never be seen. It's why easter eggs tend to be so self-indulgent. The creators don't know if the player will find them, and, like irony, require a certain level of cultural knowledge to be relevant, otherwise they're just something that breaks immersion. The fourth step, don't break immersion. This harkens back to the previous step, but it deserves mentioning again. If a joke takes a player out of the game, then it's entirely unnecessary. It's the equivalent of a first-person shooter adding the ability to plant flowers. Conceptually, I can think of a reason for adding it if the story is about a hitman who plants them as their signature, but if you're playing Halo, Call of Duty, or Fortnite, the ability to plant something doesn't add to the narrative or your lethality. There are jokes that I ad-lib in this series that inevitably fall flat for any number of reasons. Most of them get cut. For the ones that don't, I'm sorry. If you don't find any of those jokes funny, or you think I should stop trying to be funny, then take that as a lesson when it comes to your own writing. You're not as funny as you think you are, so strive to do better. The fifth and final step, figure out your story genres first. Sean Coyne, author of The Story Grid, describes all stories as having two genres, an external and an internal. External genres are what we think when we hear the word genre. Action, horror, crime, western, thriller, war, love, etc. They are a combination of setting and story, and will inevitably have some determination over the plot as they create expectations in the player, or, as Sean Coyne calls them, obligatory scenes. A bit more on those in a future episode. Internal genres are not as immediately clear, but are defined as worldview, a change in perception of life experience, morality, a change in the character's inner moral compass, and status, a change in social position. Each of these have sub-varieties that will see characters through a different character arc, but not all internal genres work well with the external. For more on that, I really suggest you give The Story Grid a read, but we'll address it in a future episode. For now, for your game, take a look at the genres you're using, and then determine if comedy is the tool that would help you tell that story. Thanks for taking part in this episode of The Writing Game. I'm Gregory Palaci. Everything I do can be found at onegamedad.com, and I can be reached there or on Twitter at onegamedad if you want to talk writing, games, this show, or even working together. Writing Game is hosted by 3rd Culture Kids, which can be found at 3rdculturekids.net. Please be sure to like and subscribe, and rate and review this show on whatever platform you find it. I'll see you on the next episode.