Gamers love stories just as much as movies or TV shows. In fact, beloved games share many commonalities with stories that people love. From early classics like text-based adventure games, Myst, and Broken Sword, story has been present since the birth of gaming. However, games that deliver both good storytelling and good gameplay simultaneously are rare.

In action-focused games, the story is usually little more than a device to justify the level design, while games with outstanding narratives often suffer from weak gameplay. Taking the stage, Pascal Luban aimed to show that the two do not need to be in opposition and can, in fact, coexist.

With over 30 years in the gaming industry, Luban has worked across various AAA titles as well as console, PC, mobile, and indie games as a creative director, designer, and consultant. Drawing from that experience, he shared his insights on narrative in game development.

Mystery, Danger, and Emotion — How to Build a Good Theme

Luban noted that the first thing to decide when writing a good story is the theme. A good theme must contain mystery and danger. He illustrated this with an example: simply taking a mundane setup like "a high school student who is late every day" and adding two conditions—"because he stops by an abandoned building and spends a long time there"—completely transforms the story.

The abandoned setting immediately creates the danger of leaving one's safe zone, while staying there for a long time establishes that whatever is happening is important to the character. With just these two elements, a dull premise turns into an intriguing story.

In addition, he cited novelty, audience interest, and above all, strong emotion as conditions for a good theme. An unfamiliar subject that hasn't been explored before draws the audience in, but if no one cares about the topic, it's useless. The most important factor is emotion.

He emphasized that "emotion is human beings' first language and the driving force behind our intentions and motivations," adding that if creators themselves don't feel strong emotions toward a theme, neither will the audience. Conversely, a theme in which the creator is genuinely invested imparts authenticity to the writing, directly conveying it to the audience.

Character, Plot, and Setting — The Three Pillars Supporting a Story

Once the theme is decided, three core components are needed to build the story: character, plot, and setting, he explained.

First, regarding characters, the protagonist does not need to be perfect and should, in fact, have flaws. He cited Robert Downey Jr.'s Sherlock Holmes—depicted as a socially awkward genius—Frodo, a small figure entirely unprepared to be a hero, and Tom Cruise's character in War of the Worlds, who becomes a hero despite being selfish and indifferent. The reason these figures feel like heroes stems from their "relatability" to us.

Audiences empathize with stories where ordinary people are thrust into heroism by circumstance, like Jack Shephard in Lost, who never wanted to be a leader. He also pointed to Mel Gibson's physically flawed protagonist in Mad Max 2 and Lara Croft in the 2012 Tomb Raider reboot, who suffers as she is forced to hunt and kill. He noted that seeing an unprepared protagonist suffer while confronting personal drama is precisely what draws audiences in.

Finally, he added that heroes are beloved because they demonstrate values held dear by the audience through their actions.

Regarding villains, he said that while they aren't strictly necessary, if one is present, creators should remember Alfred Hitchcock's principle that "the more successful the villain, the more successful the movie." Just as Darth Vader is the first character audiences encounter in the original Star Wars, a villain can sit at the center of the plot.

A good villain must evoke both aversion and fascination, serve as a formidable opponent with high intelligence, oppose values the audience holds dear, and yet possess a flaw that can ultimately be exploited by the hero. In addition, he mentioned the role of supporting characters who highlight the protagonist, serve as conversational partners, and occasionally provide comic relief to give the narrative breathing room. While supporting characters like Dr. Watson, who complement the protagonist's flaws, are not essential, they are useful tools for a writer.

Regarding plot, the second component, he introduced that while there are various ways to divide it into stages, it is generally summarized in five stages.

First, there is a short, peaceful initial stage that introduces the protagonist and their environment. While not inherently exciting on its own, this stage is essential because it sets the stage for the drama to follow. Next comes the inciting incident stage, where an event occurs that suddenly plunges the protagonist into drama. This disruption must be abrupt, turning a calm situation into one filled with problems in an instant.

The third stage is the struggle itself—the core of the story—where the protagonist manages to hold on but cannot overcome the situation. Luban likened this to being caught in a rapid current, barely keeping one's head above water to breathe without being able to swim to shore.

The fourth stage that follows is the opportunity, where a single chance arrives to break this vicious cycle—whether through the protagonist's own actions or external factors. Finally comes the new equilibrium, where the protagonist escapes the drama and regains peace, but emerges as a changed person who has learned something along the way.

The third component, setting, serves two functions. One is acting as a simple stage where the story takes place—whether New York or Paris—functioning merely as a backdrop. The other is serving as a device to heighten the drama. For example, he explained that placing a castaway story at sea rather than in a mountainous region is not only technically more challenging for survival, but also because mountains subconsciously evoke vacation spots, whereas the ocean feels inherently threatening.

Furthermore, there are cases like Robinson Crusoe where the setting itself becomes more important than the plot. Most of the novel is devoted to the protagonist transforming a deserted island into his own paradise, while meeting Friday and escaping are handled briefly near the end.

Summarizing all of this, he emphasized that a good narrative is ultimately a real or fictional story focused on an interesting protagonist, and that a powerful story can be built around a single ordinary "Mr. X" who loses a child, rather than a hero saving the galaxy. What makes a story engaging is not flashy spectacle, but the spectacle of an unprepared, ordinary person confronting the drama they must endure.

Why Good Storytelling Is Rare in Games

So why are games with great narrative so rare, even though techniques for writing good stories exist? Luban pointed to several reasons.

First is the technical challenge. Writers for books or movies have total control over when and how events unfold, but in games, players progress at their own pace, making pacing far harder to control. Furthermore, narrative elements naturally become diluted while players spend time on gameplay.

Second is the budget issue. Good storytelling requires far more than just hiring writers; it demands significant expenses for cutscene 3D models for facial animation, multilingual voice acting, and impacts level design as well. When looking at these costs, publishers frequently ask, "Do we really need a story?" he noted.

Third is the industry's complacent assumption that gamers don't care about good storytelling. He pointed out that many designers presume gamers only want muscular superheroes saving the galaxy, leading to a tendency where developers simply follow what others are doing.

Fourth is practical resistance within the industry. Games with good gameplay and weak storytelling still sell, but the reverse is rarely true—a fact publishers know all too well, making this resistance grounded in reality. It is no coincidence that major publishers rarely make adventure games anymore.

Luban recalled his experience working with a French publisher that specialized in narrative-driven games, sharing how he watched funding for narrative games shrink year after year until the studio eventually went bankrupt. He explained that while interest hasn't vanished entirely, it has become far harder to reach an audience.

The final reason is a lack of talent. Game designers trained in screenwriting are rare, and screenwriters who understand level design are even rarer. As a result, when designers without narrative training write stories, the narrative quality suffers; conversely, when good screenwriters write without knowing level design requirements, their stories inevitably get cut to fit the game—a cycle that keeps repeating.

Pairing designers and writers can be a solution. He recalled his experience working as creative director on Wanted: Weapons of Fate, where he collaborated with a talented screenwriter sent by publisher Universal. Because the writer understood the demands of level design, the collaboration went smoothly with mutual respect.

However, he added that better screenwriters often have stronger pride, and the moment one side tries to unilaterally force their story or gameplay, the collaboration can easily break down.

Five Strategies for Uniting Gameplay and Storytelling

Despite these practical constraints, Luban presented five strategies that have proven effective, drawn from his own experience and various examples. First, he emphasized that to convince publishers, one must approach them through gameplay rather than narrative. Being able to say, "We have a solid action game here, and on top of that, an intriguing narrative layer is attached," is what makes publishers see value worth investing in.

The first strategy is immersing players in an intriguing, meticulously crafted world. Ubisoft's The Division took a sandbox-style approach, offering only a very brief introduction with neither an explicit plot nor set main characters, letting players live by their own rules.

The Long Dark similarly has no story in its base mode, but the environment itself replaces the narrative through a simple premise—being left stranded after a plane crash—combined with an immensely believable atmosphere and detail. He also noted that indie games like Dear Esther, which essentially established the walking simulator genre with almost no gameplay beyond walking, fall into the same context.

The second strategy is leveraging characters that evoke empathy or revulsion. He cited Pagan Min, the ruthless dictator in Far Cry 4, as an example. Appearing friendly at first, his cruel nature is quickly revealed as sounds of torture echo from the next room, yet he maintains an excessively polite demeanor that simultaneously evokes revulsion and fascination.

Trico, the dog-like giant creature in The Last Guardian, was cited as an example where its mere presence drove purchasing intent. He also shared a personal experience playing Heavy Rain as Ethan Mars, a father crushed by guilt over losing his son. As a parent himself, the empathy was so intense that he confessed to being emotionally overwhelmed before even starting the game, knowing the scene where the child disappears was coming.

He also mentioned protagonists in recent games who appear rough on the surface but possess depth underneath, explaining that in such games, fascination or revulsion toward a character itself becomes the driving force to keep playing.

The third strategy is introducing moral dilemmas. While the action game Army of Two appears to be a pure shooter on the surface, it occasionally presents moral choices, such as whether to kill an employer, adding an entirely different layer to the game. He assessed such devices as effective because they are relatively simple to implement while immediately boosting emotional engagement. As a more advanced example, he named Quantic Dream's second title, Fahrenheit.

In a scene where the protagonist—framed for murder and fleeing the police—must choose within a limited time whether to save a drowning child or abandon the child to escape the police, most players choose to save the child. However, the moment of choice itself gives players the sensation of truly becoming a hero.

The fourth strategy is letting players experience real-world events. Using work he was involved in as an example, he said that anchoring a game in actual historical or tragic events eliminates the need to fabricate a story from scratch, as it builds upon an already existing narrative.

He cited Polish studio 11 bit studios' breakout hit, This War of Mine, as the most effective application of this strategy. While it is a management game where players oversee a group of survivors in a besieged city, the mere reality of such situations—as seen in Ukraine or Sarajevo—creates powerful emotions without needing a complex plot or scripted main characters.

The fifth and final strategy is designing the game around a deep scenario at its core. Mentioning Naughty Dog's The Last of Us, he said those who made such games ultimately chose to take risks. Telling a great story that stays with players long after requires taking such risks at times.

Concluding his lecture, Luban summarized that what he wanted to show today was that implementing better narratives in games is possible, while emphasizing that gameplay—the heart of a game—must never be sacrificed.

He stressed that while technology and resources are necessary for this, what is needed above all is will.

What we need is the will to speak to players, to express our beliefs, and to express hope for a better world. That is what masterpieces are made of.

Q&A

Q. Can AI serve as a technical solution to bridge the gap between narrative and gameplay?

= For those without screenwriting training, AI can be a tool to help write better stories. However, that is limited to writing the story itself. Combining good gameplay with a good story is far too complex a task for current AI, and it remains uncertain whether AI can be the solution in that regard.

Q. Why do studios bother making narrative-driven games when profitability is low?

= There are two reasons for this. First, passion-driven studios often achieve incredible results. Narrative-focused games that didn't look promising on paper sometimes become massive successes because behind the game was a team dedicated to a story they genuinely wanted to tell.

= Games that effectively pioneered the walking simulator genre despite having almost no gameplay are good examples. In such cases, the final result can be overwhelmingly outstanding. The other reason is that some teams simply don't understand the market well and jump in believing their game will work.

= A long time ago, I worked with a French publisher that specialized in narrative-driven games. I watched the capital injected into this market shrink year by year until the studio ultimately went bankrupt. It doesn't mean interest has vanished entirely, but rather that finding an audience has become much harder.

Q. What advice would you give to aspiring narrative designers looking to enter the industry?

= First and foremost, you must speak the industry's language. You need to understand what level design and game design are, and how games are made. Second, you must prepare a project of your own. That means creating a proposal worthy of a portfolio that proves you know how to write a story and understand what games are.

= For example, even a somewhat conventional action game concept will do—you must prove what value you can add by layering good storytelling on top to elevate the experience. Ultimately, in any case, you have to prove yourself through a portfolio.

Q. How does combining gameplay and storytelling differ in mobile games, and how does it compare to console games?

= I haven't played every mobile game, so my examples are limited, but a mobile game about Alzheimer's disease comes to mind. The developers prioritized the story they wanted to tell with that subject matter over gameplay, and it was a commercial success as well.

= However, the fundamental problem with mobile games is short play sessions. People generally look for quick sessions on mobile, which doesn't align well with narrative-driven games that require time to get to know characters and remember the plot. Even as someone who loves storytelling, I've tried several mobile narrative games, only to stop playing in the middle of an interesting story and forget what happened before when I returned. The session structure simply doesn't fit these games.

Q. That experience doesn't seem much different from reading a book bit by bit over several days. On PC as well, there are short yet excellent narrative games like Firewatch that run about four hours.

= Technically, it's not impossible. The key is whether there is an audience searching for such games. The mobile market is so vast that there is always room for niche genres, but the issue is discoverability—making people aware that such games even exist. In that sense, forgetting the content when picking up a book again after several weeks is fundamentally the same issue.

Q. Still, people read books.

= That's true. However, because mobile games are usually consumed as casual relaxation, players immediately move on to something else if there's no instant gratification. That might just be my own bad habit. That doesn't mean it has to stay that way, though. I hope that one day we'll see high-quality narrative games on mobile as well. For the record, I'm currently writing a novel myself.