We Need a Story
Inspired by a game, guided by a poem, nudged by my kid
Hi, I'm David, and this is my place to talk about what I love most: making video games with my 13-year-old son, Luke. Last year, we released a coop roguelike called Brawlberry. Now, we’re working on an Irish-themed couch-coop 3D platformer called Druid’s Crown. This is where I share how it’s going and nerd out about all things games and game dev.
I had to write about Expedition 33 (don’t worry, no spoilers). I’m sitting here, having just been told by Luke:
“We need a story. I’m implementing the intro.”
Oh no.
Substack has been my current outlet for writing, but the end goal was always to practice writing for game dialogue. Unfortunately, in the excitement of the last 15 articles, I haven’t written anything for our new game, Druid’s Crown. And so, after that gentle but firm nudge from my son, I sat down to write.
And… damn. The story in Expedition 33 was so good.
I could go on and on about how it revolutionizes turn-based combat, or the soundtrack, or how a small 30 person team pulled off a Game of the Year contender, but the story. That story.
It had everything: twists, turns, worldbuilding, amazing dialogue. In the first 15 minutes, the game had me fully engrossed, enthralled, enraptured.
Our demo? It’s only 15 minutes long.
So… how do I do that? Is it even fair to try?
When I’m coding something hard, I break the problem down. I let myself fail. I rewrite and improve with the knowledge I earn. But writing doesn’t seem to follow the same editing process for me.
So I’m going to write a bad story, and aim in the direction I want to end up.
Looking at Expedition 33, one thing that stood out to me was its nuance. It doesn’t spell everything out. Things are hinted at, mysterious. In movies, I think the advice is “show, don’t tell.”
I’m going to try to start there.
Star Wars was always cooler before the Force became about midichlorians.
Maybe the muses will find me. The flow state seems to visit more easily when I’m writing than when I’m coding.
Wish me luck.
The Heartroot Tree
By David Byrne
Long ago, the Heartroot Tree stretched its limbs across the sky. Its roots drank deep of earth’s memory, and from its branches bloomed the songs of life.
But memory fades when it is not kept. The caretakers left, or forgot, or fell. And so the tree withered… and the valley with it.
Yet deep within the wood, the last breath of the Heartroot stirred. It called out not in words, but in longing.
Four souls heard the call, not as heroes, but as shepherds.
Their task is not to conquer. Their path is not to fight. They are here to climb. To carry. To return what was lost.
For only by planting what once was can the valley become what it might be again.
And the druids’ crown will rise again.
Dam, where did that come from ?
I’ve always wanted to write a story. Fantasy books were a big part of my childhood, and I made a few attempts over the years, but it never quite felt like the right fit. Luke has no interest in the story side of game development. And though he joins me in being an avid reader of fantasy, his gaming tastes tend to shy away from story-driven experiences.
So the job of writing falls to me.
For this project, I really want to focus on worldbuilding and subtle storytelling, hinting at something deeper rather than spelling it all out. Ireland has always been known for its poets, and in that spirit, we’re not trying to write an epic, but rather a small gesture of an emotion.
The Lake Isle of Innisfree
By William Butler Yeats
I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made;
Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee,
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.
And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,
Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;
There midnight’s all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet’s wings.
I will arise and go now, for always night and day
I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey,
I hear it in the deep heart’s core.