I’ve been having a hard time trying to decide what to post publicly under the Creative tag; I can’t divulge exactly what we’re doing with the game, primarily because I don’t want to spoil anyone’s experience of it who may end up reading this (in the probable eventuality that we become rich and famous), and it’s very hard to write creatively about the game in its early stages without revealing things that I might want to have kept secret later on down the track. However, over the past few days I came up with a solution.

For those who do not know me, I fashion myself somewhat a student of storytelling, generally in four main media types: literature, music, film and tv, and game. The reason for doing so, apart from the immense joy I find in experiencing works of art in any of these mediums, is to learn from the amazing creators and artists behind each masterpiece, to see how they tell their stories and relay their emotions, and to attempt to find out their reasons for doing so.

I’ve amassed an enormous collection of favourite artists over the years. From Ken Levine and the Bioshock team to They Might Be Giants, from George R.R. Martin to Stanley Kubrick, I have experienced their works, felt changed by them, but also I have tried to learn from them, how to tell stories and to evoke emotion.

I don’t think I’d be able to summarize the extent of what I’ve learned; these experiences are so intrinsic to my being that I don’t think I’d be able to separate them from who I am as a person. But, to remind me of specific things that I’ve picked up from each artist, and to at least attempt to give these people credit for everything I know, I am going to try to list five things that I’ve learned from each major artist.

Sometimes nailing five distinct things that I learned is going to be tricky; at other times, narrowing down a large list to the five most important lessons might be problematic. We’ll see how we go.

I won’t begin with the artist that has given me the greatest inspiration – I will simply begin with the one whose works I have most recently experienced for the first time. And that person is the father of the spaghetti Western genre, Sergio Leone.

I saw The Good, The Bad and The Ugly for the very first time a few weeks ago, and it left me absolutely enthralled. The power, the passion, the ability of that simple story to be so intensely evocative… but anyway, enough gushing, lets get to the meaty bits!

(SPOILAR WARNING – although I’ll try my darndest not to reveal endings, if you ever feel like you’d enjoy some old spaghetti westerns that are absolutely incredible, you’d better not read these)

• The lesson clearest in my mind at this moment, is that, when you have a villain, especially a particularly dastardly one, when you are about to give him, dark, moody, disturbed and rotten music, hesitate. In the second scene of Once Upon a Time in the West, as the villain Frank is introduced, killing an entire family – including their young, defenseless son – the music that plays is the most grandiose, full, intense and forlorn music in the entire movie. I don’t know why, but having that music introduce him is so poignant, like he has surpassed simply being an evil human, and now simply exists as a destructive force of nature, a gigantic, fearsome structure that must be felled. From that moment on, you never feel that there lies in Frank any element of humanity, other than perhaps a curious interest in what might have been, had he not become the monster that he now is.
• Don’t be afraid of giving the time required for pacing to various shots or sequences, regardless of how slow it may seem. Although it may turn those with unforgivably short attention spans away, if you are supplying the audience with an incredibly defined, emotion filled, minutely perfected experience, do not be afraid of allowing that experience to take the time it requires to do its job in the larger narrative.
• Forced cuteness is bad. Honest cuteness is good. When the characters of The Ugly, The Bad and The Good are introduced at the beginning of the film, each in turn after seeing them in a situation that epitomizes their personality, with a freeze frame and a huge title of “The Ugly” and so forth, it is cute, but it works because it ties in so closely with the core themes and concepts of the film. The characters never change. Clint Eastwood’s character is always good, Eli Wallach (in an incredible performance) is always ugly, and Lee Van Cleef is always bad. What keeps you guessing is to what extent they live their life in accordance with their beliefs, incredible plotting and characterization, and ultimately, as the characters race to the finish line, which mindset will end up on top.
• The visual fidelity of the characters’ faces and clothes and the environment around them was something that completely blew me away with Sergio Leone’s films, even though I’m sure I’ve seen “better” actors and costumes, and more accurate environments. I think the reason that Sergio Leone’s films are so visually striking is not that he necessarily attempts to acquire the best of the best; more that, he simply tries to find whoever, whatever or wherever is most “right” to perform the task visually in the film, and then spends time meticulously enhancing their vital features, bringing them as close as possible to the extremely powerful vision that he has in his head, until there’s absolutely no chance for anything to fall flat, even when the viewer encounters obvious issues such as out of sync speech or historically inaccurate costumes and environments.
• Making your audience dislike your movie right at the start, for a bigger payoff at the end when everything comes to fruition, is a good thing – but only if you’re Sergio Leone, or are famous enough to have the confidence that nobody is going to leave the cinema. At the beginning of Once Upon a Time in America, Robert De Niro’s character Noodles, despite obviously being cared for by the characters that are killed or hurt while he’s lying around smoking opium, is an intensely disagreeable character. When you know that this film is the story that will be chronicling this sad person’s life, it’s disheartening, but, because it’s Sergio Leone, you sit through it. And slowly but surely, the character wins you over, and when the same events occur, right at the end of the film, the difference in feeling you have toward the character is palpable, even more so because you started out with him in this very situation, disliking him! It’s interesting, but not for those who don’t already have an audience who are indebted to them.

I might eventually write a conclusion about Mr. Leone here, however I’m a bit too drained at the moment. Nevertheless, this was fun! I’m looking forward to choosing who and what to do next…