Sure, let’s dive into it. So, writing a novel, right? It feels kind of solitary, like, you’re usually just in your head, scribbling away. But I heard — from somewhere — that screenplays, especially for movies, are shorter. Unless, of course, you’re on a Scorsese project, then all bets are off. But video games? Whole different beast. It’s like stuffing puzzles into puzzles, filling hours with dialogue and plot, and then you toss it around with a team. Late nights become a blur… like, it’s 3 a.m., and you’re just chucking words at the screen. Magic sometimes happens, though.
Take Clair Obscur. Everything Frenchy in it is like, bam, imagination ignition! And Esquie, this oversized gestal creature, kinda steals the spotlight. There’s this particular chat, a campfire scene maybe? Esquie and Verso mull over their friend François. Now, François is typically grumpy, but Esquie remembers when he was more about “Wheeee!” than “Whooo.” Players actually pick between these moods in real-time. Silly? Definitely.
Svedberg-Yen, who whipped this up, had a laugh about it. “3 a.m., and seven dialogues to write,” she chuckled. Why not? Clair Obscur is bulky — 800 pages if you’re counting — minus all those side NPC chit-chats and the lore underbelly. Here’s the kicker: Monaco, another fab character, sprang to life from Svedberg-Yen’s pup. Needed a trim, did Monaco? Turned into script gold.
The “Whee Whoo” bit? Confusingly brilliant at early hours, strangely meaningful. Svedberg-Yen’s aim? Realness. Otherworldly yet rooted in some raw truth. Outlandish, maybe, but it’s the odd, kooky instincts that gel authenticity. Life’s bittersweet, after all, fling in some laughter amidst doom, right? “Am I going too far with this?” she reflects. Nah, it’s all about feeling it and dumping that feeling right onto the script. Authenticity doesn’t question itself.
