Writing a novel, you know? Kind of like a solo gig mostly. Just you and your words. But a screenplay? Only about 120 pages, unless you’re doing some epic Scorsese thing. Now, writing a video game? Whole different beast. You gotta fill up hours with stuff, make it fit the gameplay, and somehow make sense with a whole writers’ room. Deadlines loom, words get thrown around. Especially at 3 a.m. when everything’s a blur. But hey, sometimes genius sneaks in.
So, there’s this game, Clair Obscur. It’s like, all French vibes and whatnot. And players? Totally diggin’ Esquie, this oversized bird dude. One campfire convo with François — who’s kind of a downer usually. Esquie’s like, “Franfran was all ‘Wheeee!’ Now he’s just ‘Whooo.’” For a solid minute, you’re defining “whee” and “woo.” And you get to pick your path in the dialogue. Completely nuts but in a good way.
The brain behind this? Svedberg-Yen, laughing about 3 a.m. struggles. “Had to whip up seven dialogues for Esquie,” she says. Aiming for that deadline.
This script, Clair Obscur: Expedition 33, stretches to around 800 pages. Yup, not even counting the NPC chatter or lore bits. So much to cover, grabbing inspiration from all over. Take Monoco, another character — totally based on her dog. Needed a haircut? Boom, in the story. Monoco and Verso talk trims. “You look like an overgrown mop.” Said it to her dog, used it. Why not, right?
Then there’s that “whee whoo” thing. Middle of the night, makes no sense, yet perfect.
“Wanted to touch on joy and grief together,” Svedberg-Yen recalls, “but words were escaping me. So ‘wheeeeee!’ it was.”
As a fantasy writer, she chases this thing called authenticity. Characters grounded in something real, even in fantasy worlds. Trusts her gut, even the wild bits. Levity finds its way in Clair Obscur’s drama – ’cause that’s life. “Push too far? Sometimes. But when I’m wordless, I think, what am I feeling? That makes it real because it’s true.”
