New Plans for “Black Heaven: A Necromantic Dating Sim”!

Big announcement: I’m planning on turning “Black Heaven: A Necromantic Dating Sim” into a full-length, commercial visual novel!

Though the project likely won’t kick into gear until Fall 2020, I’m laying the groundwork for the game now, including 1) an early version of the demo with placeholders, 2) marketing plans, and 3) an outline for the full game!

The Game

Here’s the working description of the game:

In Black Heaven: A Necromantic Dating Sim, you must collect three ghosts in a magical grimoire and return them to a mysterious necromancer named No-Eyes, who offers to bind one of them to you forever. The journey will take you into the depths of this ruined world as well as the memories of each of the ghosts you meet, but you can only give your heart to one of them. Who will you choose?

  • Ru, the shy, brilliant scholar?
  • Leathe, the fiery, sharp-witted conwoman?
  • Ryu-Ito, the fierce but kind-hearted martial artist?

Be careful—in this world, ghosts can take on many forms, from beautiful shades to Lovecraftian horrors, so you’ll need to use your kindness and cunning to survive!

The game is meant to be in the dark fantasy/horror genre, and is planned to have some 18+ material, including romance scenes and some Silent Hill-style horror imagery.

Right now, here are some of the planned key features of game:

  • Three romance-able characters
  • Simple interactive mini-games
  • Lo-fi hip-hop soundtrack with original and licensed music
  • Hidden routes and multiple endings
  • 8-hour playtime

One of the gameplay elements I’m super excited about is a feature in Ren’Py that allows the game to remember certain player decisions, even if they don’t save the game, exit, and reload a previous save.

This ties is nicely with one of the key narrative elements–chronomancy, or time magic. The player character is given the ability to go back in time and change their actions (manifested as the player reloading a save), but when they do, some characters will remember the unsaved “alternate” timeline.

Since two of the key themes are memories and blurring of reality, this opens up a lot of possibilities for weird, maddening things to happen to the PC.

Making the Decision

When I first posted about “Black Heaven” several months ago, he project was only planned to be a portfolio piece, something to demonstrate my narrative design and team management skills.

After starting work for the Loresmyth and Tales in September, I shelved “Black Heaven” to focus on my professional work, which included writing and coding the pilot for a novel-length interactive fiction series.

Once my schedule stabilized a bit and I finished up the pilot for Tales, I decided to keep working on “Black Heaven” in my free time. I felt like I really had something special, and my work with Tales had served as a crash course in writing and coding interactive fiction.

After a few weeks of thinking and researching, I decided that once my writing commitment to Tales was finished, I’d try to make “Black Heaven” into a full-length commercial game.

The Plan

The current development and release plan looks like this:

  1. Establish an LLC to publish the game and act as legal entity
  2. Build the dev team (consisting of a character artist, background artist, composer, and UI/game designer)
  3. Create a 30-min demo with full music and art assets
  4. Promote the demo
  5. Promote a Kickstarter campaign for the full game
  6. Launch Kickstarter campaign
  7. Create full game once funding is secured
  8. Deliver full game to backers (plus any stretch goals)
  9. Release full game on retail platforms

Right now, the estimated budget of the game is between $1,800- $2,000 and the retail price is planned to be around $7.99, though these figures may change.

I’m not planning on making any money from the Kickstarter to keep the funding goal low. If I make any money, it’ll be from selling the game commercially.

The Demo

I’ve already written up an alpha version of the demo, which is about 20 minutes long. The demo uses placeholder art and music (from Persona and various YouTube artists, respectively), but most of the text and mechanics are there.

Here’s some screenshots of the demo:

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What I Learned From Creating an Overhauled “Game of Thrones” Board Game, Part 2

Welcome back to my series on my overhaul of the Game of Thrones Board Game, which I have graced with the name A Board Game of Thrones: A Game of Thrones Board Game (or “ABGoT: AGoTBG”), because if there’s one thing George R. R. Martin is known for, it’s brevity.

In this post, I’m going to talk a bit about how I structured the game’s turns, my initial ideas for Scheme Cards, the Battle Phase, and the conscription mechanic, all of which are big departures from the base game.

The Phases

Everyone’s favorite part of learning board games is the multiple steps (or phases) of the Game Round!

My first introduction to phases in a tabletop game was Magic: the Gathering, and honestly, this game is pretty similar: there’s an Upkeep phase, an End phase, a Combat phase, and two Action phase, one before combat and one after. However, two new additions to that formula are the Negotiation and Initiative Phases. Here’s the full list of Phases:

  1. Upkeep Phase: This is where various game effects are resolved and tokens are changed/removed. This is also when players draw new cards from the House, Battle, Scheme, and Crisis Decks.
  2. Negotiation Phase: During this Phase, players may give other players a Raven Token that signifies a desire to meet with them to talk in private.
  3. Initiative Phase: This is where players bid cards from their House Hands to determine the turn order for the Round.
  4. First Action Phase: This is where players manage resources and perform non-combat actions, such as carrying out Schemes, resolving kingdom Crisis cards, and more.
  5. Army Mobilization Phase: This is where players move their Heirs, Ships and Units of soldiers. Players proceed according to Initiative Order, and move all the Units, Ships, and Heirs they wish to move before moving on to the next player.
  6. Battle Phase: This is where players take turns engaging in Battles with one another’s Units.
  7. Second Action Phase: This phase is functionally identical to the first, but some actions may only be taken during this Phase, such as conscripting Units of soldiers.
  8. End Phase: This is where various game effects are resolved before the start of the next Game Round.

I found during playtesting of the game that each of the Phases ended up provoking different player behaviors:

  • Because players receive their Resources during the First Action Phase, they make a lot of planning decisions with their allies. This is where a lot of inter-player trading happens, as well as strategizing about battles.
  • The Army Mobilization Phase is one of the most crucial strategic moments in a Round–I’ve seen entire plans to take over Kingdoms fall apart due to one player moving their Units in an unexpected way. In this sense, it’s almost more important than the Battle Phase.
  • The Battle Phase is where everything hinges on a combination of cards and dice rolls. There’s a large element of uncertainty in Battles, and this uncertainty scares a lot of conservative players who don’t want to gamble their plans on the outcome of one decisive battle.
  • The Second Action Phase is where the outcome of the entire turn is reckoned: who won what battles, whether campaigns can be continued, and what moves players have made. This is also where new Units are created and plans for next turn are made.

During playtesting, I also found that two major issues with these Phases:

  • Players didn’t like the ‘private meetings’ introduced in the Negotiation Phase–instead they preferred to talk openly among themselves and make secret plans by whispering, winking, and so on.
  • Winning first or last during the Initiative Phase has almost no meaning–there’s only an advantage to going first or last if you know what your opponent’s are going to do. This made the Initiative Phase most trivial.

When designing the game, I found that I really did need an End and Upkeep Phase for keeping track of the game’s mechanics, especially Conscription.

Conscription

Conscription became one of the key new mechanics in the game. In a nutshell, conscription allows players to create Units of soldiers from their territories. Creating these Units requires 200 Gold and 100 Steel, and supporting these Units each Upkeep Phase takes 200 Food.

To conscript a Unit, players must choose a territory to conscript from. Each territory has a Population number, which denotes how many Units can be conscripted there (most territories can only conscript 1 Unit). The combined Population number of a player’s territories represents how many total Units they can conscript.

After conscripting a Unit from a territory during the Second Action Phase, the player must put a Conscription Token on that territory. Conscription tokens stay on those territories for two turns, and until they’re removed, no more Units can be conscripted from that territory.

Conscription is a particularly crucial piece of games design because it shows how time and space can effect a game immensely.

The reason timing is important is because players cannot create Units of soldiers before the Battle Phase of a Round–they have to wait until the Second Action Phase. Why is this important? Two big reasons:

  • All players can see how many Units everyone has before going into the Battle Phase. This makes battle-planning for players easier.
  • Players are forced to pay at least 1 turn of Upkeep for their Units, rather than being able to create Units, fight with them, and only pay for the surviving Units during the Upkeep Phase.

Here’s a quick example of play:

Alex creates 3 Units of soldiers during his Second Action Phase on Turn 1. Joe creates 2 Units of soldiers. Neither of them can fight with their Units this Game Round because the Battle Phase has passed, but they will be able to do so next turn.

During the Army Mobilization Phase of Turn 2, Alex moves his Units onto one of Joe’s territories. Joe, seeing this, moves his Units onto the same territory to defend it.

During the Battle Phase of Turn 2, Alex has a Battle with Joe. All of Alex’s Units are destroyed, while Joe has 1 surviving Unit. During the Second Action Phase, Alex decides to create 2 Units to replace the ones he’s lost.

During the Upkeep Phase of Turn 3, all players (including Alex) must pay for the Upkeep on their Units, which is 200 Food per Unit. Alex pays his Upkeep (400 Food) and is ready to fight in another Battle.

Another reason time is important is because those Conscription Tokens take two rounds to be removed. This means those territories are essentially inert for an entire Round. Because players prefer to conscript Units from territories that are the closest to the where they want to go (the easternmost edge of the Kingdom, for example), players will conscript from nearby territories first. This ensures that they can carry out their plans immediately.

However, this is where space comes in: players must conscript Units from more distant territories during the next subsequent turn if they want to reinforce their first Units. Because of how the map is laid out, this can cause problems: Units can only move 3 spaces during a Game Round, and most Kingdoms consist of 4-5 territories.

If a player isn’t careful, their second round of reinforcements may not be able to make it to where their previous Units were, or where they’re needed most. This is especially true if a player is controlling two disparate Kingdoms, like Dorne and the Riverlands.

Together, time and space place limits on how quickly players can react to one another and carry out their plans. With only 10 Rounds, every delay can be game-changing.

Conclusion to Part 2

I didn’t cover Battles and Scheme cards in this post like I’d hoped, but that’s because doing initial playtesting for the game brought up a whole new slew of ideas, issues, and design challenges. I’ll be writing up my full takeaways from the initial playtesting in the next post!

Making ‘Black Heaven: A Necromantic Dating Sim’, Part 2: Narrative

Welcome back to my ongoing series of posts on my game demo project “Black Heaven: a Necromantic Dating Sim”!

If you haven’t read part Part 1, go read that first, you animal.

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Logo design by Joel Clapp.

This time, I’m talking about narrative—outlining the story, figuring out the characters, and writing the opening scene. Because Black Heaven is just a demo at this stage, there are only four scenes, each of which introduces the player to one of the key characters: the necromancer No-Eyes, the scholar Ru Okazi, the martial arts master Izagi Ito, and the conwoman Leathe. Still, putting together the demo meant having a general outline of the plot for the entire game, as well as in-depth outlines for the characters.

Plot and Setting

The first step in creating the game’s narrative was brainstorming the plot. After a few iterations on the general idea of collecting ghosts for a necromancer in a post-apocalyptic fantasy world, I came up with this summary:

Five years ago, a devastating plague spread across the world, driving humanity into the long-abandoned subterranean ruins known as the Starving Kingdoms. As one of the few survivors, you’ve been living a lonely existence, haunted by memories of the world you knew…until a necromancer named No-Eyes offers you a deal: if you bring him the ghosts of three people, he will bind one of them to you for eternity. However, the others will be trapped in his grimoire forever.

This summary was eventually adapted into the game’s overall description, but first and foremost it was a clear, concise encapsulation of the game’s setting, plot and conflict.  I split it into four parts:

  • Setting: post-apocalyptic fantasy world ravaged by a plague
  • Plot:
    • Desire: your character is lonely, and desires companionship
    • Solution: you make a deal with a necromancer to obtain a ghost companion
  • Conflict A: you must find and capture the ghosts, as well as convince one to become your companion
  • Conflict B: if you fulfill your end of the deal, the other ghosts you collect will be doomed

Apart from the expected challenge of romancing one of the ghosts (Conflict A), I wanted there to be another conflict for the player to deal with, which was a moral dilemma that asked whether the player would sacrifice the souls of the other two ghosts they didn’t choose to romance (Conflict B). The moral implications of Conflict B eventually developed into a third secret, conflict, which I won’t go into detail here…

Setting

As for setting, I drew strong inspiration from the landscapes and worlds of Dark Souls and Bloodborne (the latter of which is also afflicted by a rampant plague). I liked the idea of exploring the ruins of a dark, subterranean city, and decided to set the game partly underground.

When it came to the worldbuilding aspects of the game, such as magic, metaphysics, and history, I drew on my own body of stories. One of the key elements I incorporated was “physiomancy,” the study of the human body with the goal of discovering a path to eternal life. The main character used to be a physiomancer, as were No-Eyes and Ru, and the study of immortality is woven into the origin of the plague that swept through the world.

Here are some of the visual references I used when imagining the world of the game (all are from the Dark Souls series or Bloodborne):

Characters

The first and most important character I figured out for the story was No-Eyes—he’s the primary “antagonist” and the person who gets the plot going. The player meets him while scavenging in a subterranean library, an encounter that serves as the intro to the game.

I decided to use a character profile format I’d picked up when I was interviewing at Gameloft, which included an occupation, personality, and key words. Here’s what No-Eyes’ character profile looked like:

NO-EYES


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A sketch I made of No-Eyes.

Key Appearance Traits: close-fitting black robes, smooth, eyeless helmet, gloves, no exposed skin, tall, emaciated

Occupation: Necromancer

Personality: No-Eyes is irreverent, outgoing, charismatic, highly intelligent, cynical, and entirely without morals. He sees other humans as amusements or puppets, and is highly adept at twisting them to his own ends.

Key words: relaxed, conniving, cruel, humorous


The other character profiles followed this same format—you can read all of them in the Art Brief.

One of the things I learned during my creative writing courses is to set up “trios” of characters: trios allow a writer to flesh out characters by making their traits opposed to one another, which “bakes in” the potential for conflict and tension. For the demo, I decided to introduce a distinct trio of potential romance interests:

  • Ru, the shy scholar
  • Izagi, the fierce martial artist
  • Leathe, the shrewd conwoman

Each of these characters was designed to be easily and intuitively understood, but with a few hidden dimensions unique to each, which would come into play in their horror forms and relationships with the player.

Of course, there’s already an avalanche of articles, charts, and memes exploring the very well-established archetypes of female romantic interests in anime, like this one:

I’m not a huge fan of this kind of pigeonholing, but I do understand that most characters end up falling into archetypes. Ru, for example, resembles Yuri from DDLC: shy, bookish girl who’s nervous around other people. No-Eyes resembles an archetypal Mephistopheles or “manipulative bastard.”

If Joseph Campbell has taught me anything, it’s that archetypes are a part of writing. It’s not a bad thing that a character is recognizable or familiar, but a writer needs to make their own mark on them to make them unique.

Working with Archetpyes and Creating Complex Characters

After thinking about conversation trees and how I would structure player interactions with the characters, I decided to take inspiration from Mass Effect‘s Paragon and Renegade elements. However, instead of a dichotomous ‘hero’ or ‘rogue’ option for each conversation, I created a three-option system, where each choice falls into one of the following attitudes and appeals to certain characters:

  • Gentle (associated with Ru)
  • Bold (associated with Izagi)
  • Cunning (associated with Leathe and No-Eyes)

The more the player chooses a certain type of option (such as “Gentle”), the higher the disposition of the corresponding characters. However, though Izagi responds positively to the Bold options because her character’s ‘archetype’ is fierce and brash, her personality is more complicated than that.

One key idea I took from my writing courses is that complex, believable characters are built on contradictions. When I was designing the character of Leathe, for example, I wanted her to take pride in her ability to manipulate people, emotionally and physically—as a conwoman, she sees it as part of her craft, as well as proof that she’s smarter than other people. The contradiction is this: Leathe ends up getting tired of pretending to be someone she’s not, but is too afraid of expressing herself genuinely, which is something she associates with vulnerability.

These contradictions are present in each character, and end up branching out into smaller traits that define the character’s personality. If you want to read more about how this kind of characterization is employed in games, check out my piece on Mass Effect 2‘s infamous fight between Jack and Miranda.

Planning the Introduction Scene

Before writing out the introductory scene for the game, I made a list of the things I needed to introduce or establish:

  • The main character’s connection to the character Ru (a former friend)
  • The main character’s previous occupation as a physiomantic scholar
  • The plague that effectively wiped out civilization
  • Ru’s death
  • The subterranean setting
  • The way the player survives in the post-plague world (a filter mask)
  • The player’s current location (the Library of Gizaron)
  • The character of No-Eyes (including his background)
  • The three conversation options/paths (Gentle, Bold, and Cunning)
  • The deal between No-Eyes and the player
  • Information about the ghost characters
  • The beginning of the player’s quest

I decided to start with a horror-tinged dream sequence that introduced the plague and the player’s former relationship with Ru. Dream sequences aren’t exactly original, but done right, they can be surreal and horrifying, especially if the player isn’t sure if it’s the real opening of the game.

The dream is interrupted by an immediate threat: the player’s filter mask is clogged with ash and dust, suffocating them. From there, there’s some exposition and the player gets a chance to relax and take in the setting. Immediately after that, they encounter No-Eyes, who hasn’t seen them yet. The player must make a choice about how to approach him, which leads to the introduction to the three-path conversation system.

Outlining the Scene in Twine

When I first started the Twine outline for Black Heaven, I wanted it to be as complex and non-linear as possible in order to give the player a lot of agency. Each of the little squares below represents a text passage, and each of the lines connecting them represents a connection between two different passages, with an arrow showing which direction the narrative is flowing. Depending on the choices a player makes, their narrative path will be different.

As you can see, the map below has a pretty small number of text passages, but has a whole lot of connections:

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Here’s a closer view of the story map, which shows how complicated and multidirectional the narrative can get. You’ll also notice that a big branch in the narrative happens at one passage: “Get Up Intro”. This was meant to be one of the key choice moments in the scene, and would cause the player to branch into one of the three routes based on how they handled the initial meeting with No-Eyes.

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Unfortunately, this structure caused some pretty significant problems. Because the conversation could go so many different ways (and even cross over into different ‘routes’), each passage in the narrative had to be somewhat modular so it could fit together in many possible combinations. Though this modularity meant the player could get to the same place through multiple routes, it also meant the flow of the interactions between No-Eyes and the player came across as abrupt and choppy.

This caused a realization: the more player choice you allow, the less control you have over the unified effect of the narrative. It’s much more manageable (and impactful) if choices are restricted to a few key moments, rather than try to offer a hundred ultimately minor options that sacrifice quality for the illusion of freedom.

After a few revisions, the story map looked like this:

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Notice how clearly defined the three routes are (top, middle, and bottom, joining together about halfway to the right), how many fewer lines cross between the routes, and how few lines there are in general. Though “linear storytelling” is usually a dirty word among gamers, writing this short scene showed me that it’s especially useful in the beginning of a game, when the writer is trying to establish the setting, characters, and situation. Here’s a closer look at the story map:

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Conclusion to Part 2:

Like with Part 1, this covers a very small part of the work that went into the narrative aspect of the game—instead of diving into the minutiae, I’ve tried to hit the highlights and big ideas.

In Part 3, I’m going to cover my first interactions with the Ren’Py engine, including learning how to use Python and set up a scene.

You can play through the Introduction scene for “Black Heaven” on itch.io using Twine now! Keep in mind, it’s still a work-in-progress.

Making ‘Black Heaven: A Necromantic Dating Sim’, Part 1: Concept

I haven’t finished a novel in at least two years. It’s a pretty shameful thing for someone with a degree in Creative Writing. It’s even more shameful for someone who originally wanted to work in book publishing. Instead, I’ve been playing games like Doki Doki Literature Club, Katawa Shoujo, VA-11 Hall A, and Mass Effect (among others). 

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Logo design by Joel Clapp

I’ve written articles about the characters and narratives in those games, and after a long gestation period in my head, I decided to put together my own game. Or at least a demo of it.

That game is Black Heaven: A Necromantic Dating Sim. So far, it’s been one of the most rewarding and challenging projects I’ve worked on, and I’m looking forward to sharing it with people once it’s complete. This series of articles is gonna talk about what it’s like putting it all together, from concept to (hopefully) final demo.

A Story of Two FAN Letters

I don’t think that any creative person ever stops being a giant fanboy (or girl) for the people that inspired them, no matter how experienced or acclaimed they become. So I wanted to start off by talking about two fan letters I wrote to the creators of two games that really shaped this project.

doki-doki-occult-triangle-lab

A big part of my drive to create a visual novel game came from playing Doki Doki Literature Club, which won over fans and critics despite being one of the most disturbing, twisted games in recent memory. After I finished my first playthrough, I opened up a window in Gmail and wrote Dan Salvato a letter. Here’s an excerpt:

…I wanted to send you a letter saying how much…I’m not sure. It’s a terrible thing to say I “loved” a game about girls committing suicide. To be honest, I felt sick playing it–it felt like it was slowly picking apart my sanity in ways I believed nothing could…

When I was done, I felt like I was looking at the whole world in a new light. For me, DDLC reignited my passion for storytelling, for games, and for creating elaborate fantasy worlds where, as Yuri might say, you can lose yourself.

You can read my full thoughts on DDLC here, but that game wasn’t the only one that really inspired me.

katawa-shoujo-occult-triangle-lab

As the internet legend goes, Katawa Shoujo started as a joke on 4chan that progressively became more and more serious. Forum members started pitching ideas for a dating sim, which ranged from disgusting to surprisingly thoughtful. Some committed posters got together and assembled the game in Ren’py, a free visual novel engine.

The game’s story revolves around the male protagonist’s transfer to a high school for handicapped youth after he suffers a heart attack, and from there, becomes an exploration of vulnerability, honesty, and empathy. After my first playthrough (Hanako’s Path), I wrote another letter, to one of the writers behind the game. Here’s an excerpt:

“…every now and then, I come across something that illuminate my life, whether it’s a song or a conversation with a friend. Katawa Shoujo was one of those things, and I’m so thankful that it exists. I hope that one day I can write something so well-crafted and devastatingly honest.”

What was so striking about these games was how engaging they were, despite having very limited animation and relatively little player interaction. Instead, the strength of the writing had to carry the game. As a writer myself, I wanted to create something that evoked the same feelings I had while playing these games.

Brainstorming Black Heaven

I’m a big fan of necromancers. I wrote a whole post about designing a terrifying helmet for my necromancer character No-Eyes, who appears in this game. I also published a standalone short story about No-Eyes in the professional fantasy magazine Beneath Ceaseless Skies. I’m fascinated by immortality, forbidden arts, and riding the line between being human and…something else. Horror really hooks me, and I wanted to weave that into the game.

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Concept art for No-Eyes’ helmet, by Joel Clapp

I’m also a big fan of worldbuilding, to the point that nearly everything I write or create takes place in the same world. So when it came time to lay the groundwork for Black Heaven, I decided to set it in my shared world. Because of my love of DDLC and Katawa Shoujo, I decided to make the game a dating sim, but with a necromantic twist: you’d be romancing ghosts.

One of the guiding ideas of ghosts in my stories is that they’re shattered mirrors of who they used to be–the memories, traumas, and desires of their past warp and twist their mind, and their memories become muddled. This added an interesting dimension to the ghost characters: instead of just building a relationship with a ghost, you’d need to learn more about their past and psychology.

After several iterations on that theme, I came up with the central conflict: your character makes a deal with the necromancer No-Eyes to collect a list of ghosts from across a post-apocalyptic landscape and bring them to him. In return, you get to keep a ghost as a companion. However, as the game goes on, you realize that turning any of the ghosts over to No-Eyes may mean condemning them to an eternity of torment…

Laying the Groundwork

As soon as I had the central kernel of the plot and some rough sketches of where I wanted it to go, I started thinking about the project as a whole: what would the final product look like? How would it be framed to potential players? What would the guidelines be for the art? And what would be the game’s “pitch”?

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The original draft of the Black Heaven logo, made in MS Paint.

I came up with a proposal document, written and outlined so that I could show it to possible collaborators to give them a quick, effective summary of the project. Mostly, though, it was meant to be an internal reference document: I’ve found that pretending to explain a project to a complete stranger can quickly solidify what the project is and what it should be, and the proposal did that. In essence, the doc galvanized the specifics of the game and gave me a clearer picture of what needed to be done.

In addition to the game’s description, I listed the art assets I needed for the project (such as character and background art), narrative content, character profiles, and marketing materials (such as a logo and cover art).

You can read the proposal here.

The proposal became my guide for the rest of the project, but I realized I needed to create separate docs to start outlining and designing the characters.

Character Profiles and the Art Brief

 

You can see the Art Brief for the demo (which includes Character Profiles) here.

I decided to sit down and sketch out backstories for each of the characters, covering their history, personalities, and key experiences, as well as their deaths. I boiled down these backstories into very short, succinct profiles for each of the characters, which listed key traits, physical descriptions, and a summary of their personality. After that, I found reference photos from real-life models to help get a clearer picture of their appearance and assist the artist in drawing character art.

A reference photo for Ru Okazi, one of the characters.

Visual novels live or die based on their art and visuals, I wanted to make sure the art brief  clearly expressed what I was going for. In the brief, I give some samples of the type of art style I envisioned for the game, as well as samples of character art from Katawa Shoujo. I also outlined how I wanted the concept art and design process to work.

Because of the visual novel format, each character would need at least three “portraits,” each of which would express a different emotion: happy, neutral, or sad.

In addition to their normal forms, I decided to give each ghost a “horror form,” which must be dealt with before sealing the ghost in the player’s grimoire. The idea was that the player must see beneath the horror form to find the person underneath, and then appeal to their humanity to convince (or force) them to enter the grimoire. Each horror form had its own description and set of reference photos, which were meant to guide their design.

Horror forms were partly inspired by the monsters in Silent Hill, which were designed to be expressions of the protagonist’s suppressed thoughts and feelings. Another influence was my reading into the Tibetan Book of the Dead, which described the many layers of psychological hang-ups a soul must peel away before moving to its next reincarnated form.

Kali

Key Question: ARE WE JUST MAKING PORN?

I got in touch with Joel Clapp, an artist friend of mine, to discuss creating some of the concept art for the game. I sent him the art brief I’d put together, but soon after creating some sketches for me, he brought up an important and troubling question: how sexy should he draw them?

Screenshot from Bandai Namco’s “Girl Friend Beta: A Summer Spent with You “

This led to a conversation about the morality of dating sims in general and how comfortable we were with creating a game in a genre where women are explicitly treated as sex objects. Here’s an excerpt from my email response to Joel:

“From the beginning, I’d planned on Black Heaven being a subversion of your normal dating sim, but as you point out, just because Doki Doki Literature Club is a subversion doesn’t mean it doesn’t exploit sexuality to attract players and implicitly promise them sexy times to get them to play—the characters still have accentuated breasts and curves, which were designed to attract people.

This brings up two questions:

  1.  Are we making low-key porn and putting up fancy window dressing in the form of narrative and setting to disguise the fact that Black Heaven is essentially a sex doll house, where all the characters are designed to titillate and gratify the player?
  2. If we’re not doing that, then are we being dishonest by calling the game a “dating sim” and marketing it like one?

In my mind, the answer to the first question is no. That’s not what attracts me about dating sims, and it’s not what I have planned. In my mind, this is gonna be a game about romance, but it’s not just gonna be about that—it’s about learning how to put yourself back together by helping others do the same, it’s about being honest with yourself and others, and it’s about choosing between your own selfish desires and what’s best for someone else. It’s not just a pretext for porn.

As to the second question, I think the answer is also no. Games like Katawa Shoujo prove that you can have a conventional dating sim, including sexuality and multiple romantic partners to choose from, and still tell a heart-wrenching story that does not boil down to you picking out a 2D sex doll. It is possible to creating a dating sim that uses romance and sexuality as part of a bigger, unified effect, and I think a lot of players are looking for something like that…

…I think, when designing these characters, we should stick to making them tastefully attractive, but with a greater focus on bring out their individual characters. It’s more important to make them memorable and distinct than making them sexy.”

Conclusion

This is a really short summary of the concept stage of the project, which went through a bunch of iterations and alterations. In Part 2, I’ll talk about the narrative design process, including drafting scenes and revising them in Twine.

You can read Part 2 here!

What I Learned From Creating an Overhauled “Game of Thrones” Board Game, Part 1

Back in November 2018, I decided to do a total rules overhaul for the Game of Thrones Board Game, which I titled A Board Game of Thrones: A Game of Thrones Board Game as a joke. Beginning with a single ten-hour brainstorming session that ended around 3 AM, I started laying out everything I wanted to do with the new game.

One of the driving factors of the project was the fact that the original game didn’t capture what made the HBO show so enamoring: the “Influence Track” seemed like a really shallow representation of Houses jockeying for subtle advantages over one another, possessing the Iron Throne wasn’t that big of a deal, and the majority of the gameplay revolved around your armies. Instead of feeling like you were playing as Littlefinger or Tywin Lannister, you were just a military general.

To me, Game of Thrones was like watching smart people play 4-D chess: while the wars were being fought abroad, characters were throwing wrenches into their enemies’ plans at home, too. A lot of this didn’t make it into the original game’s territory-control aspect. Sure, players could backstab one another and broker deals, but it wasn’t enough for me.

After about a month’s worth of work, I’d created a 10,000-word rules doc that introduced everything from brand-new Battle and “Scheme” cards to new Houses and army mechanics. From there, I tinkered with the project bit by bit, figuring out what new material components I needed to make the game work. After returning to it months later, I cut out about 3,000 words’ worth of mechanics from the rules, paring down the game to be more streamlined and intuitive.

Finally, I had the first playtest with some gamer friends of mine. The setup was messy, some of the mechanics needed fine-tuning, and we only made it through three game rounds in 5 hours, but by the end, I heard exactly the kind of reactions I was hoping for:

“Oh, so that means…man, this is cool!”

“That’s really interesting…wow…”

“This was fun! Tell me what you’re doing this again!”

For a very complex, high-investment, five-hour game that didn’t even end with anyone winning, it was a great first reaction. Here’s what I learned from the whole experience, from brainstorming to playtesting.

THE DESIGN PILLARS

At the heart of the original Game of Thrones Board Game was territory control: you build armies, you capture territories, and you fight other armies. My first task was retooling this aspect of the game so that it was one element among many that the player had to manage, partly inspired by this exchange between Tywin and Tyrion Lannister:

Tywin: You really think a crown gives you power?

Tyrion: No, I think armies give you power [but] Robb Stark had one, never lost a battle, and you defeated him all the same.

This exchange made me think about how clever rulers had to juggle multiple aspects of power, not just managing armies. The new pillars of the game became:

  • Territory control (creating and moving armies and capturing territories)
  • Kingdom management (managing resources and public approval)
  • Sabotage (damaging other players’ resources and game position)
  • Socializing (making deals, threats, and alliances between players)

Many of these pillars are the same as the base game, but were reimagined to more closely fit the spirit of Game of Thrones (or, at least, my favorite parts of it). I won’t cover all these pillars in depth here–instead, I’ll start by introducing some of the major framework changes I made to the game and my thoughts behind them.

Changing the Victory Conditions

One of my first decisions was to forego the original game’s victory condition of capturing a certain number of Strongholds scattered across the map and change it to capturing and holding the Iron Throne to gain victory points. This, in theory, meant that everyone’s attention would be focused on a single geographic area: King’s Landing.

This kind of King-of-the-Hill victory condition caused a dramatic shift in how the game was played. In early drafts of the redux, it meant that players (like Houses Baratheon and Lannister) who were closer to King’s Landing had an incredible advantage, while distant players (like Stark and Martell) seemed constantly at a disadvantage. It also created a negative gameplay loop:

In the early iterations of the redux, one player started the game controlling the Iron Throne. Simply capturing the Iron Throne from that player was enough to grant victory points, and holding the Throne for each Round after would grant a continual (but smaller) amount. This incentivized geographically close players to bum-rush King’s Landing and fight for the Throne, while the more distant players would follow in their wake, capturing vacant territories on their way to King’s Landing, taking the Throne from the current holder (weakened by the previous fighting), then fighting among themselves.

No matter the outcome, the game would become a constant cycle of mustering troops, marching on King’s Landing, deposing the weakened player holding it, and gaining victory points (as demonstrated through simulations I played against myself). If for some reason a bid for the Throne failed, that player was usually left lagging behind in VP for the rest of the game.

Ironically, the situation resembled Daenerys’ description of the ‘wheel of power’ in Westeros:

“Lannister, Targaryen, Baratheon, Stark, Tyrell…they’re all just spokes on a wheel. This one’s on top, then that one’s on top and on and on it spins, crushing those on the ground.”

To solve this, I implemented three new gameplay elements:

  • Fortifications
  • NPC forces occupying the Throne
  • Heirs
  • Removing the ‘capture’ bonus

First, I gave certain territories (including King’s Landing) Fortifications, which differ from the original game’s Fortifications. In this version, some territories cannot be captured unless they are attacked by a certain number of army Units. I set the minimum amount of Units to capture King’s Landing at 8, meaning players would need to either band together or muster a very large army over the course of several Rounds.

Second, I set up NPC-controlled Targaryen army Units in Crackclaw Point and King’s Landing at the beginning of the game and put the non-player Targaryen faction in control of the Throne. This prevented a player from starting the game with the Throne and created more barriers for the players to gain the Throne in the first few turns. Having to raise a large army to break through the Fortifications and then having to fight a large group of enemy Units required more planning and resources, and encouraged players to be more strategic.

Third, I made new rules so that each player started the game with three Character cards called Heirs. Upon capturing the Iron Throne, a player had to choose an Heir to become King or Queen, and upon losing control of the Throne, that Heir risks dying in the coup. If all three of a player’s Heirs die, they lose control of almost all of their territories and resources and have to build themselves back up from almost nothing. This disincentivized the constant cycle of gaining and losing the Throne, which would cause players to quickly burn through their Heirs and lose everything.

Finally, I removed the victory points for simply capturing the Iron Throne and instead granted the victory points to the player when they took and held the Throne for one full Game Round. The idea was that it was easier to take the Throne, but holding onto it took more skill and deftness, which is what I wanted to encourage in players.

This combination of factors was designed to make assaulting King’s Landing (and gaining victory points) much more of a strategic endeavor, one that would require careful planning and canny decision-making, as befits the spirit of Game of Thrones.

As for the geographic isolation of certain Houses, I’ll speak more about that later.

Revamping Territories and Resources

One of the keys to making the game more multi-faceted and true to the book/show was enlarging the resource management aspect of the game. To do this, I changed how players gained resources to build and support their armies (which I renamed “Units”): instead of capturing territories that had Supply markers on them, every territory produced a certain amount of Food, Gold, and/or Steel.

This immediately made the economy and resource management more complicated, since players had to keep track of three resources, each with its own use:

  • Food was mainly used to support Units
  • Gold was mainly used to build Units
  • Steel was mainly used to upgrade Units and build Warships

Because each territory provided different resources, players had to think more carefully about which territories were most valuable to them: did they need more Food or Gold next turn? How many Units could they build if they captured (or lost) this territory?

The design challenge of attaching a certain amount of resources to each territory was made easier by organizing them into Kingdoms. Instead of starting the game with most of the map unclaimed by any player, I decided to give each player control of a Kingdom (consisting of 4-5 territories each) right at the start. This meant that I had to figure out the amount of resources each player should start with, then divide these resources among the Kingdoms’ territories. Instead of distributing resources among territories randomly, players could reliably expect each Kingdom to have a Gold-producing territory, a Steel-producing territory, etc.

However, this resource management element would create difficulty when it came to strategizing and playing the game, due to the number and complexity of the material components. I’ll talk more about that later on.

Public Approval and Crises

When watching the show, I noticed how much the Noble Houses worried about the peasants rising up during times of war: because armies are expensive and resource-intensive, a war necessarily meant taking food out of the mouths of the common people. In the base game, however, it’s never really a concern–all your resources go straight to your armies.

This quote from Olenna Tyrell sums up the threat of neglecting the people:

“The people are hungry for more than just food. They crave distractions. And if we don’t provide them, they’ll create their own. And their distractions are likely to end with us being torn to pieces.”

To emulate this aspect of kingdom management, I introduced the Public Approval and Crisis mechanics, which incentivize players to divert resources away from their armies to take care of their Kingdoms.

The system works like this: over the course of the game, the players may raise their Public Approval Rating, which gives them benefits like drawing an extra card each turn or collecting extra resources each turn. One of the main ways Public Approval can be gained is by dealing with Crises, which randomly arise each Game Round and demand a certain amount of resources to solve (for example, a Steel Crisis requires 200 Steel to resolve). If the player solves the Crisis  before the end of the Round, they gain Public Approval. If not, they start incurring penalties, such as drawing less cards, etc.

Forcing players to spend resources on things other than their armies (and gaining benefits/penalties for doing so) means the player’s attention is split between the battlefront and homefront, and benefiting one may mean sacrificing the other. The randomness of the Crises means players need to keep a certain amount of all resources saved up, or risk losing the support of the people. Those who properly curry the favor of their subjects find themselves in a much strong position overall, and become much more efficient and powerful.

Conclusion to Part 1

These are some of the biggest structural changes I made to the game, but there are a lot more to discuss–how battles are fought, the new Phases for each round, the process of conscripting and maintaining soldiers, and the Scheme cards all represent fundamental changes to how the game is played.

I’ll cover some of those in the next installment, along with my thoughts on their design! In the meantime, you can view the current version of the Rules (along with a material list) here.