I'm always searching for game writing inspiration. When I heard about "Planetfall," an unconventional novella inspired by science fiction literature and modern interactive narrative, I was intrigued. Author John Burnett, a user interface (UI) artist for video games by day and a renaissance man by night, has written a linear story with a sleek flash interface that affected me in a powerful way.

"Planetfall" differs from other novellas in its format. The story is presented in a seamless UI inspired by early images of the Animus from Assassin's Creed. The narrative is written entirely through a futuristic messaging system that is a hybrid of modern-day emailing and instant messaging. While no dates or timestamps are present, the chronology of the story is quite clear, and the pacing is strong. At first I thought the lack of dates was a fault, but, upon further reflection, I began to see how it aided the overall flow of the story.

The plot is an interesting experiment of a crew put in a drastic situation. The reactions are profoundly human, representing some of the best and worst aspects of humanity. In a relatively short amount of time, Burnett manages to convey the struggles of a large group of people and the variety of emotions they experience. It is very reminiscent of games, as the electronic messages are all we have of the incident. The gaps must be filled in by the reader. Fortunately, Burnett manages to take advantage of the opportunity to leave out information and throw in some surprises. The ending left me somewhat shaken, but I enjoyed it and the finale was fitting.

Burnett has a great attention to detail despite the deceptively simple interface. In his notes, he mentions key decisions, such as having photos for each character to emphasize their humanity. He then explains how he lights up each character when they are the person who wrote the message, but when their picture fades out, the light remains slightly longer on their eyes. Burnett also made several revisions to the novella that added a surprising level of polish, such as the maintenance reports that help break up the messages with a more visual piece of narrative.

While Burnett's novella could clearly provide some positive inspiration for game writers considering telling stories through logs or files, there are still a few weaknesses. For a story told in 2030, his characters have an unusual grasp of some terms that would surely be antiquated by that time. Certain phrases, such as "grab a pen," may be outdated. More futuristic phrases, such as "grab a stylus," could provide more suitable replacements. Also, the story sets a very clear tone through the dialogue. I enjoyed the dry wit and the coolness, but this did create characters with less depth. I wanted to see a character or two with more quirkiness, or characters with different senses of humor. Also, several of Burnett's central characters have a high degree of academic literary knowledge. It seems unlikely that characters in 2030 stuck on a spaceship would've spent hours in a classroom studying Shakespeare and Yeats which they can then quote to express their frustrations.

Despite its faults, I feel that "Planetfall" provides a strong narrative. Outside of sci-fi literature, Burnett cites his inspirations as System Shock 2 and BioShock. This style of on-demand narrative through logs in increasingly popular, as it will also be utilized in the upcoming Dead Space. It has certainly inspired me to write my own interactive narrative through messages. It certainly seems a challenge to write an interactive narrative that could affect me as strongly as "Planetfall."  

Please do not read this post if you intend to play Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic (KOTOR). There's a fantastic moment of game narrative that caught me completely by surprise, and I would hate to spoil it for you. Click here to skip to the previous post.

However, if you have played KOTOR, please read on and feel free to share your own thoughts.


On a seemingly average Tuesday, I had an hour or two to kill before class. Too restless for TV, I turned to my favorite pastime: gaming. I booted up KOTOR with the goal of getting through a lengthy quest on Korriban.

An hour later, I was deeply engrossed in the game. The seemingly ordinary task on Korriban had turned into a rather interesting quest concerning multiple tombs in the Valley of the Dark Lords. By the time I left Korriban, I had met a host of interesting characters, from the ghost of a Sith lord to a droid that was hyper-sensitive to sounds.

As I flew to the next planet, I was shocked to find my ship pulled into a tractor beam. Suddenly, we had been captured and our entire fate was dependent on one character. I had to play solo to free my fellow adventurers. This new quest sounded quite fun, so I decided to play a little longer, foregoing my usual makeup routine.

No sooner had I rescued my characters than further developments unfolded, and I found myself bargaining for more time. I resolved to buy food instead of taking the time to make a sandwich. I worked my way through the level, searching each room and taking out the enemies. I had just beaten a boss and was running to my ship. Nearly home free, I was convinced I would stop once I had reached that safe point.

Then it hit me. It was possibly the biggest OMG moment in the entire game. Darth Malak had stopped me and mocked me with a grave truth: I was Darth Revan, the other half of the sinister pair that I had been fighting the entire game. My mouth dropped open in shock. It was simply brilliant.

I continued through the conversation, clicking through the dialogue with a stupid grin on my face. The writers had fooled me with one incredibly clever twist. I was thrilled.

Riding on this high, I suddenly noticed the time and had to race out the door and drive to school, still in shock. I ran into horrible traffic and was late to class, but I didn't care. I had just experienced one of my greatest moments in gaming. Fortunately, I was driving to a game design class full of people who would understand, or so I thought.

"I saw it coming," claimed one of my friends. How could it seem so simple to him and yet so brilliantly hidden to me? As I talked with him, I began to see how I had assumed that Revan was a male from the beginning, so it never occurred to me that my female character could be the same person. Even though Revan was carefully hidden in cloaks, my assumption had allowed me to be taken completely by surprise. He had played as a male character in the presence of roommates who dropped hints now and then.

Fantastic OMG moments in games can seem like pure genius when set up properly, but games aren't played in a vacuum. Gamers form a community that seems to thrive on rumors of the latest game and fans love to drool over the newest trailer. In a game development setting, some employees pick up games as soon as they come out and avidly discuss the finer points the next day. If you wait until the price drops, you will likely overhear gossip that spoils the delicate secrets of a game.

KOTOR's big reveal was incredibly satisfying for me because it caught me completely by surprise. Playing a game long past its prime kept me shielded from the spoilers and blissfully ignorant of its amazing twist. In a culture that thrives on the rapid spread of knowledge, I hope that writers continue to weave in twists that catch players off guard. It's the OMG moments that make the other 10-30 hours worthwhile.  

Please do not read on if you intend to play Mass Effect. I will do my best not to reveal unnecessary information, but it is impossible to discuss the impact of a certain portion of the game without giving away a few details. Click here to skip to the previous post.


I wish I could say that I followed my own advice and did not hear about a certain part of Mass Effect before I played it, but, in the course of searching for help a couple of times, I accidentally saw a hint of what was to come. I had heard that I would lose a companion at one point, and I would have to make a tough choice. This information haunted me as I chose my team members for each mission. I kept thinking, “Will this be the mission where I lose someone?” Unable to take the stress, I consulted a friend who had finished the game. He kindly told me that the game would strongly imply when that point would come, and I had no need to worry.

I didn’t worry until I got to a part of the game where my team was suddenly split up. I had to choose one of two companions to leave behind. I thought, “Will this be the tough decision?” I saved compulsively as I moved ahead. By the end of that mission, it turned out that I did have to make a choice to rescue the separated team member or to rescue another. I was very upset, because I had imagined this moment over and over again. I had thought that my party member choices would allow me to leave behind a companion that I never used or someone that I didn’t care about. Unfortunately, the choice happened to be between the two companions I always took along with me. I was torn, as I had spent some time talking to each and learning about their backstories, making them seem like real friends. After all, these characters had been through nearly 20 hours of gameplay with me, and I felt that I could depend on their help.

I agonized over the choice. There was no option to save both. It was simply one or the other. I was sending one of them to their death, and they each wanted me to sacrifice the other. While I considered both equal in terms of friendship, there had to be some deciding factor for me. Soon, it came down to two factors: fighting style preference and the romantic sub-plot. I had begun to enjoy one of the team members’ fighting styles more than the other’s style. This is because my Shepherd’s style complimented the one companion’s well, making my life easier. The other team member had combat skills similar to mine, so it created an overlap that wasn’t quite as helpful. Second, I had begun to pursue the romance subplot with one of the characters. As a writer, I was really curious to see how it would play out (and perhaps my girly desire for a juicy romance got the best of me). These factors may seem trivial, but I had to find some way to choose and these factors tipped the scale for me.

I felt that I had made the best choice for me, but, when I turned off my 360 that night, I felt terrible. I wandered out of my room in a daze, confessing to my roommates that I was torn up about losing a virtual friend that I been through 20 hours of missions with me. I realized how silly it sounded, but I was genuinely sad. I went online, talking to other friends and searching in forums to see if I really did have to make the choice between those same two characters or if I could’ve changed it. While everyone had to make the choice between the same two characters, it was easier for some due to their personal preferences for certain characters. Some of their choices involved romantic interests like me, but others were simply because one character bothered them.

The fact that I let a good friend and member of my team die has stayed with me and I don’t think I’ll forget that moment soon. It was a fantastic moment in game narrative. I hate to think about setting out to make a game that makes people cry, but this type of choice really can have a profound effect on a person. Tough choices seem to be the heart of creating real emotion in games, since you can affect a person’s conscience and make them realize that hard decisions have to be made in situations where the fate of the universe is at stake.