Meet Mr. Game Grump

Welcome, welcome! My name is Lucas, and I’m a writer and narrative designer for games. Please, come in. Take a seat. I’ve set out a nice arm chair for you, and there’s some nice chamomile tea on the coffee table. Don’t mind the velvet on the arm rest—it’s already worn. I find worn velvet’s the most comfortable. 

I’m happy you came to chat about narrative design—it’s one of my favorite topics. Please, get comfortable, sip your tea if you like, and settle in. I’m excited to see where the conversation will take us—there’s so much to consider! We might as well jump right in—

—Ah, yes. The old man snoring on the couch. I suppose there’s no avoiding it. I was hoping he wouldn’t make a nuisance of himself, but perhaps it’s best to introduce you. That man there, using his tweed jacket as a blanket and smacking his lips in his sleep, is named Mr. Game Grump. Mr. Game Grump is an old-school game designer who grew up back in the days when games were, as he describes them, hardcore. 

Between you and me, he doesn’t care for the player very much. In fact, he thinks the player’s a needy good-for-nothing who should be grateful we deign to give them any games at all. Needless to say, he doesn’t care much for the player’s feelings.

Yes, he does live rent free. I don’t know what he does with all his time, but he does spend an awful lot of it grumbling objections from my couch.

Now where Mr. Game Grump believes the player’s feelings don’t matter much at all, I believe the player’s feelings really do matter. They’re everything. So since Mr. Game Grump’s already here, I’ve made it my job to try to convince him that to give players the most riveting experiences we can possibly give them, we need to deeply consider the player’s feelings. After all, the fantasy we weave in our designs is only half-finished until the player picks up the controller and begins to co-create the fantasy with us. 

Maybe you and I can convince him together.

Oh, look! Speak of the devil. Mr. Game Grump has just woken up from his nap. “We have a visitor,” I say. “Mr. Game Grump, please, meet the reader. Would you like to tell them anything? We’re just starting to talk about narrative design.”

“When I was young, games were hard!” says Mr. Grump. He fidgets uncomfortably underneath his tweed blazer. I did already mention he doesn’t pay rent? “And besides, I don’t take kindly to your characterization of me.”

“You heard that? I thought you were asleep.”

“I was fake sleeping, you dolt.”

“I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

“I don’t get hurt feelings—you’re just wrong. And young. Naivete is also likely.”

“Oh, so then you do care about the player’s feelings?”

“Absolutely not!” Mr. Game Grump sinks deeper into the couch and ditches his tweed blazer for a nearby blanket. “And anyone who does is mollycoddling. There’s a ten-dollar word for you. And I won’t define it.”

“You do have nice diction, Mr. Grump.”

“Hrmph,” Mr. Game Grump says, settling back in for a nap. “Wake me up when you have something interesting to say.” And with that, he dozes off—and this time is really asleep.

Well, Mr. Game Grump hasn’t ever been easy to please. The thing is, we do have lots of interesting things to talk about together. In the end, I hope we can figure out what makes for a game that achieves our medium’s ultimate goal—a fantasy in the mind’s eye of the player so visceral that, at least for a little while, they’re swept away into the sort of transcendent emotional experience that only the video game medium can provide.

Maybe, with your help, Mr. Game Grump will come around.