In all other forms of entertainment media, the writer is the only person who must begin with nothing. An editor has a manuscript, a director has a screenplay and a comic artist has a panel-by-panel script. The writer must pull his inspiration directly from the ether, then graciously give away his children to those who arrive late and demand changes. When it comes to games, however, development can begin long before a writer is ever involved. The engine, genre and gameplay can be established way in advance of any kind of back story, dialogue or even characters - the primary realm of the writer.
In many ways, not having to start completely from scratch should be a relief to the videogame writer, but living within someone else's artistic universe puts tight reins on a profession used to enjoying (if only briefly, at the beginning) complete creative naissance and redefines the writer's position on the developmental ladder. Even though the pen pusher may no longer be the father of the story's world, his role within this particular medium is far more extensive and varied than almost every other type of fiction writing.
When we look at a job posting for a game designer, it reads like a checklist for a superhero. The specialized requirements (programming, direction, art, management, music, magic powers and yes, writing) are so disparate it's utterly irrational to expect professional competency in all these areas from one person. Even if he's only actually required to perform one or two of those duties, a jack of all trades, as they say, is still a master of none.
But the written word crops up in a variety of places within a modern game, from dialogue and character biographies to instruction manuals and box inlays, and a writer can help piece together each of these seemingly diverse elements to create a cohesive narrative. Monitoring all these small details of story and narrative are, individually, too minor for a programmer or designer to spend his limited time chasing and tweaking, but when mixed together properly, this gloss can cover a great many cracks in the rest of the game. And, adversely, ignoring the quality of the writing can bring a superb game to its knees to be remembered as not much more than an average, fleeting amusement.
Even our hand-held consoles are capable of delivering vast worlds replete with a myriad of divergent characters. In my recent experience with the superb Nintendo DS system, I've seen several games exhibit both the creative and destructive power of the written word. Trauma Center: Under the Knife is a remarkable game that makes excellent use of the system for which it was designed. The DS' touch screen finally had a genuine purpose, rather than just being a clever redesign of a standard controller. The graphics and sound were spot on, while the gameplay was unique, imaginative and highly entertaining.
