Authoring Magical and Surrealistic Works of Interactive Fiction
By J. D. Berry
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"Magic is surreal almost by definition and surrealism is dangerous." -- Graham
Nelson, "The Craft of Adventure"
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Magic and surrealism are common themes in interactive fiction. They excite the
imagination, transforming the everyday into endless possibilities. However, as
Mr. Nelson suggests, when you write such a work, you play with fire. If you're
not careful, you'll get burned.
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Endless possibilities in these genres suggest there's no one right way to go
about writing such a work. This article isn't a how-to manual. This is a
discussion of the nature of these settings and the issues unique to them.
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Why write such a work?
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"I had been wanting to write a game with weird language for a long time. Partly
this is because I don't trust myself to write memorably enough in a normal vein;
writing in a strange style evades that issue entirely." -- Dan Schmidt, referring
to his IF work "For A Change" (1999) in a SPAG interview.
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Schmidt's work is widely regarded as a classic of Interactive Fiction. His
humility aside, the man can write. One doesn't win the Xyzzy award for "Best
Writing" without knowing a little something about the craft. Words convey an
author's ideas, in any type of fiction. A surrealistic setting does not excuse
poor writing, and few things will alienate your audience faster than ineffective
prose.
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But Schmidt introduces a valid strategy, one that applies to many areas of
life-play to your strengths. With a surreal or fantastic setting, the interactive
fiction medium is itself a strength. Using these genres, you can leverage what
seems to be a constraint and make it work for you.
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"When the game is written competently and sufficiently debugged, this trick
[making the PC some kind of unusual or non-human creature] often works remarkably
well, even better than its static fiction equivalent might. Why is that? I think
it's because IF has an advantage over static fiction in the area of character
identification. When you're reading a book, you may read third-, first-, or even
second-person accounts of a particular entity's exploits, and with sufficiently
effective writing and characterization, you may even identify with that entity
quite strongly despite its non-human traits, but no matter what you are still
watching that entity from a distance. IF, however, literalizes the process of
identification one step further. Not only does the prose put you in someone
else's head, you actually have to guide the choices of that someone. I'd submit
that when a reader is compelled to guide a character's actions, especially if
there are puzzles involved, that reader will try to think like that character
would think. When this happens, the identification process has reached a place
where static fiction can rarely take it." -- Paul O'Brian, from his "Verbose" Web
Page, reviewing "The Djinni Chronicles" (2000)
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The best part of writing a work that has a bizarre setting is that nobody can
tell you "Things don't work that way." Well, they can tell you, but they'd be
wrong. That is, if your world is consistent.
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How Interactive Fiction (IF) is similar to Static Fiction (StF).
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* An underlying set of laws and operating principles (rules) apply in the work's
universe.
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The author establishes these laws separate from the body of work, or story. 
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When the setting is the modern-day, real world, there's not much the author needs
to do. He's already familiar with how the world works, its causes and effects,
its meanings.
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With a magical setting, the author faces the "lazy medieval" temptation.
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"The commonest 'mythology' is what might be called 'lazy medieval', where
anything prior to the invention of gunpowder goes, all at once, everything from
Greek gods to the longbow (a span of about two thousand years). In fact, anything
an average reader might think of as 'old world' will do, the Western idea of
antiquity being a huge collage." -- Graham Nelson, "The Craft of Adventure"
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The author may think he gets the best of both worlds using a lazy medieval
setting. A) He has the freedom to add to his work whatever seems nifty or
expedient. B) He assumes the player will be as familiar with this setting as he
is with the real world. Even if these assumptions are correct, A plus B doesn't
equal C-a captivating world. 
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The player, upon his realization that he's in a lazy medieval setting, will
attribute laziness to the author. The player may feel that he won't experience
anything new, and that the author substituted convention for imagination. Even
good writing may not overcome these attributions.
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The author of a work with a surrealistic or unique magical setting has much
thinking to do. Beyond a basic level of accessibility-a person at least remotely
comprehending what is going on-the author can take nothing for granted in regards
to how things happen and why.
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Consistency is key.
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"The truth is that good fantasies carefully limit the magic that's possible. In
fact, the magic has to be defined, at least in the author's mind, as a whole new
set of natural laws that cannot be violated during the course of the story. That
is, if at the beginning of the story you have established that your hero can make
only three wishes, you better not have him come up with a fourth wish to save his
neck right at the end. That's cheating, and your reader will be quite correct to
throw your book across the room and carefully avoid anything you ever write in
the future" -- Orson Scott Card, from "How to Write Science Fiction and Fantasy.
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But all of this effort is not without reward. The more detailed and thought-out
the world's rules, the more support the story will have. These rules spark
creative ideas and suggest logical plot threads. They impart a feeling of
authenticity, that the world the reader/player experiences is real. 
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A tree can be only as tall as its roots allow. The deeper you dig into your
world, the fuller your work will be.
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* Gradual revelation of these laws in the context of a story. The reader/player
is not expected to read a 50-page rulebook before beginning a story. Part of the
enjoyment for the participant (reader or player) is learning bits at a time as
the story unfolds. The following text illustrates this:
 
"For A Change" -- "Under the High Wall (on the resting)
Sweetness fills the shade of the High Wall to your east. Under this sweetness
lies a small expanse of fod. A mobile releases mildly to the west; ..."
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"The War of the Worlds" -- H. G. Wells.
"No one would have believed in the last years of the nineteenth century that this
world was being watched keenly and closely by intelligences greater than man's
and yet as mortal as his own; that as men busied themselves about their various
concerns they were scrutinised and studied, perhaps almost as narrowly as a man
with a microscope might scrutinise the transient creatures that swarm and
multiply in a drop of water."
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"The Djinni Chronicles" - [opening screen]
"A wish diminished me. I fulfilled my summoner's desire expending Purpose. I
returned to my container before I was lost forever."
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The reader/player gains some basic information about the world that he is
entering. He has a guess at what role he might take and at what he might expect
from his surroundings. This introductory text was not just a lecture on the first
few rules from the list, however. A story is afoot.
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The rules of the world never change, but the reader/player's understanding of
them certainly may. Each new event--in the broad sense--presents an opportunity
to add a new rule or two. It is also the place to clarify a difficult rule or
obfuscate one the reader/player thinks he has down pat. 
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Observation: The sun rises, arcs across the sky, and sets behind the horizon.
Initial Conclusion: The sun revolves around the earth.
Later Clarification: The earth revolves around the sun.
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The rule never changed, only the reader's perspective.
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How Interactive Fiction differs from Static Fiction
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Both IF and StF authors work from a set of "world rules." When the StF author is
ready to insert a story into his world, he writes. When the IF author is ready,
he writes and implements. Implementation is critical to consider before diving
too deep into a work.
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This is not an article on coding techniques, design principles or machine
specifications. The implementation I'm talking about is "do-ability." As a
programmer, can you do (implement) the necessary code that enable a player to
experience your vision?
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With an interactive environment, a player should be capable of many different
actions.
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I'm sure most writers go through a compromise phase-that time of planning when
you realize some things just won't work. In some cases, simple deletion does the
trick. But how to work around it when the story demands complex elements? Fudge?
Add? Rewrite? (I would like to tack on "writing" to Murphy's law on sausage and
legislation. If you like it, you should never watch it being made.)
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With IF, there's not only the writing compromise phase, but there's also an
implementation compromise phase. One second after I conceived the idea for TDC, I
realized that there was no way I could implement the powerful djinni we all know
and love as a player character. Um, yeah... you can fly anywhere, conjure
anything, become anything, and wield the forces of nature with wanton abandon.
Oh, I'll be sure to provide a unique and intriguing story line for each of the
billion paths.
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I liked the idea, though. So I got out my constraining net-yeah, the black one
with the cedar handles-and focused on how I could limit a djinni. Some of these
constraints were incorporated into the set of world rules. For example, a djinni
has only so much potential before it must return to its container. But I handled
other constraints in the writing. In the setting, you're in the middle of
nowhere. You'll run out of potential before you reach anything noteworthy. In the
plot, your goal encourages you to save your energies for only the most important
tasks. You certainly don't want to waste it turning into an elephant. (And, OK, I
certainly didn't want to implement that.)
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Implementation compromise may blend with writing compromise. You can reconcile
implementation problems through your writing. It's a tool you can use, and there
are appropriate tools for every job. I have one rule thumb: if you think it feels
forced, your players will probably think so, too.
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Don't shy away from implementing complex objects. Where would the community be
without some of the wonderful NPCs and gadgets we've encountered and experienced
in the last few years? Such creations can truly enhance a work of interactive
fiction. 
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Many articles within this IF Theory Book will tell you to practice your craft.
I'll mention here it, too. Experience gives you the knowledge of when to
implement and how to implement. It lets you know when and how to integrate your
writing with the implementation.
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In StF, the author controls the story, the pace, and all of the incidentals. He
doesn't have to consider where or how the protagonist may deviate from the plot.
The author's responsibility to his reader ends at "be engaging at all times."
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In IF, the author and the player have a continuous, symbiotic relationship. The
author must consider where and how the protagonist may deviate from the plot, and
what effect that will have on the world. 
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In general, the player controls the pace actively, the author, subtly. Subtlety
is not of less importance. It is the river flowing gently in some parts, rapidly
in others. It forks and twists. It offers spectacular scenery. Combining these to
create an enjoyable experience is an art. But the player may get out of the boat,
take a wrong fork, or never figure out how to steer the canoe. So much for the
breathtaking waterfall located a few miles downstream.
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This is especially important for a writer using a magical setting and critical
for a surrealistic one. A player may fumble around in a normal world, let alone
in one where his very frame of reference is askew.
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"For descriptive language, where I couldn't be completely mysterious because it
would leave the player without a clue, I mostly tried to keep one step of
metaphorical distance from whatever I was describing. So if something was rising,
I'd instead say it was getting larger, or gaining, or something." --Dan Schmidt,
"For A Change"
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In general, the author controls the story actively, the player, subtly. Nothing
can happen in an interactive work that the author doesn't script. The player may
come up with an ingenious solution or a clever rejoinder, but it won't matter if
the author didn't anticipate it. However, each player will have his own approach
and his own thoughts as he plays. Each player will experience the work
differently.
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In a normal world setting, a player can usually fill in the blanks-the places
where the author did not anticipate. But a writer of a magical or surrealistic
work must take greater care. When an author fails to account for something, a
player in his world will do one of the following:
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o He won't be able to fill in the blanks at all.
o He will fill the blanks in from a normal world perspective.
o He will attempt to piece things together based on his limited knowledge of the
world.
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If you're creating a work of surrealism, one of the above may be just the
perspective you're looking for. But deliberate use of them demands tight control.
You have to be consciously aware of how you implement them and the overall
effects they will have on the player.
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"I had to cut back on the weird language in some places. For example, darkness
was originally described without any reference to the lack of light; it was
described as the lack of thought, thought and light being somewhat synonymous in
the game's word. But that just confused the hell out of people, so I had to take
it out." -- Dan Schmidt
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I see each work of IF as its own unique pas de deux, an intricate dance between
the author and the player. The author is the ballroom dance instructor. But the
dance studio here adds challenges. The instructor can't dance directly with the
player, so she must lay out the footprints of the dance steps on the floor. She
can't maintain an active dialog with the player, so she must anticipate his
problems from start to finish, leaving a recording of her advice at each step. 
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The pupil learns as he dances, most likely making mistakes. But he must feel the
soul of the dance before he becomes discouraged.
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Creating unique magical IF is a pas de deux with a deaf player. I don't mean
someone who is physically hearing impaired, but rather one who chooses not to
hear because he's heard it before. The pupil sees everything he needs to do, but
the instructor's commands are lost. The instructor must provide visual clues
beyond the numbered footprints, at least at first.
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Creating surrealistic IF is a pas de deux with a blind player. The pupil learns
nothing from the numbered footprints on the floor. Because the instructor cannot
directly communicate in IF, she must impart the feel of the dance exclusively
through her descriptions.
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IF authors have beta testing at their disposal. Through this, you will discover
how well your dance instructions encourage, clarify and entertain. 
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Conclusion
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If form truly is liberating, what more could you ask from the IF magic and
surrealism genres? You get a form within a form within a form. Have you ever felt
so liberated? 
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Seriously, though, the magic/surreal form allows you to focus your raw, unique,
wildly creative ideas into a medium that may be a perfect fit. Interactive
fiction is a relatively young field, and many possibilities are unexplored. There
certainly will be a considerable amount of work involved in implementing your
ideas. But what masterpiece demanded anything less?
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--
Bibliography
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"For A Change", (c)1999, a work of Interactive Fiction by Dan Schmidt
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The Society for the Promotion of Adventure Games (SPAG), (c)2000, Issue # 19,
Paul O'Brian, editor
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"War of the Worlds", first published in 1898, by H. G. Wells
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"How to Write Science Fiction and Fantasy", (c)1990, Orson Scott Card, ISBN
0-89879-416-1
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"The Djinni Chronicles", (c)2000, a work of Interactive Fiction by J. D. Berry
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