Y’know, it’s kinda weird when you think about it. Writing a novel, it’s just you and your laptop, right? Same with movie scripts, mostly. Unless you’re churning out something epic like Scorsese. But video game writing? Totally different beast. You’re not just penning a couple hundred pages. Nope, you’re creating this whole universe with words, whole hours of gameplay. And it’s always a team effort, like this chaotic writer jam session. Ever been so desperate to meet a deadline that you literally fling spaghetti at the wall and hope something sticks? Been there. Especially those late-night, caffeine-fueled marathons. Weirdly, sometimes genius emerges from that chaos.
Anyway, there’s this game, Clair Obscur. The bits of Frenchy flair really pull folks in—especially this quirky dude, Esquie. Picture this: he’s chatting about his pal François with Verso in this campfire scene, right? François, basically a grumpy pants, but Esquie’s reminiscing like, “Franfran used to be all ‘Wheeee!’ but now he’s just ‘Whooo.’” Cue several surreal minutes where Esquie breaks down the philosophy of “whee” and “woo”—and players even get to choose their emotional path like a dialogue buffet. So silly, but kinda brilliant.
Svedberg-Yen, the brains behind this, cackled about it recently. Said something about how at 3 a.m. creative block, she was losing it, had to crank out seven chats for Esquie. And somehow “whee whoo” was the answer. Magic, right?
The script for Clair Obscur: Expedition 33 is like… 800 pages. Not even counting all the NPC chit-chat or the lore manuals that lay the groundwork. Svedberg-Yen pulls ideas from everywhere. Like, ever heard of Monoco? The floating gestral? Yeah, based on her own furball of a dog. Once, when her pooch needed a trim, she just… put it in the story. Monoco and Verso have this laugh-out-loud talk about hairstyles. “You look like an overgrown mop,” says Verso. Definitely words that’ve left her mouth, straight to her dog. It’s real talk.
The morning-bewitched “whee whoo” scene? Even less logical at 3 a.m. But, it vibed. And that’s what counts. “I was aiming for this mix of happy-sad, joy-grief. The words failed me. So, wheeeeee!” Svedberg-Yen shared, yawning.
Fantasy writing, it’s all about keeping it real. Even within mythical lands, her goal? Authenticity. Characters birthed from genuine moments. She trusts her gut—even when it’s being mischievous. Clair Obscur, although drenched in tragedy, makes room for light-hearted escapes. Svedberg-Yen doesn’t shy away. Sometimes you just gotta ask, “Did I go too far?” But then, feeling the moment rings true. Real, raw emotion. That’s the heart of it.