I’ve been wondering how to make a visual novel of my own ever since I first witnessed the potential of VNs as a storytelling medium from a player’s perspective. I fell in love with the Hakuoki games and sakevisual titles like [Text] – A Summer Story, Ripples, and Jisei years ago, back when making a visual novel of my own seemed like a little bit of a pipe dream
Before making The Dragon’s Last Flight, I knew nothing about programming. I studied art in grade school but shifted my focus to writing by the time I went to college, and knew I didn’t have the skills or patience to illustrate a visual novel myself. I had (and still have) several talented artist friends, but what about the music? The animation? The narrative design? It all seemed like a little too much for a kid who hadn’t even finished a full first draft of a novel
Since that time, I’ve survived a few serious reality checks that reminded me how precious time is, and how ridiculous it is to waste it telling myself I “couldn’t.” Now, whenever I can, as much as I can, I try to just do. So when my talented artist friend Odd Lazdo asked me if I wanted to make a visual novel for NaNoRenO 2019 with her, I said “yes.”
Needless to say, I learned a hell of a lot about how to make a visual novel in a very short amount of time. In just a month, I not only outlined and wrote a full demo of The Dragon’s Last Flight, but also taught myself (with some help from my friend) how to program in Ren’Py and publish it to itch.io. In spite of a day job and various medical appointments and migraines and general life stuff, I hit “publish” on time—at 11 something PM on March 31, the last official day of NaNoRenO.
Here’s what I learned.
1. Plan ahead, but don’t expect things to go according to plan. Originally, we wanted to write an entire game in a month. I was going to write it, and Odd Lazdo was going to illustrate and program it, since she had some previous Ren’Py experience. Instead, due to a variety of unexpected variables, halfway through the month we decided that I would drop drafting and take over programming. It certainly wasn’t what either of us had in mind when we’d started, but it all worked out in the end–and now I can finally say I know how to make games in Ren’Py!
2. Build “extra time” into your project timeline. Keep expectations realistic. Even “simple” ideas become infinitely more complex when told in a branching narrative format. Unless player choices don’t impact the story at all (in which case, I ask you, what is the point?), always remember that branches exponentially expand the amount of writing (and coding, and illustrating, and so on) you’ll be doing. We chose probably the most straightforward idea I came up with out of about half a dozen potential stories… and even then, we still had to cut our submission down to a demo to finish it in time. In other words, if you’re new to branching narratives, take whatever amount of time you think your project will take you and double it. Just in case
3. Don’t fear the Ren’Py. I heard a lot of talk about how easy Ren’Py is to use, but even after teaching myself to write in ChoiceScript for The Harbinger’s Head, I was a bit intimidated by VN programming at first—and not just because of our looming NaNoRenO deadline. But like a surprised me exclaimed after several days of tutorial-watching and experimenting, “It’s actually kinda fun!” I’m only a beginner, of course—even now, I’ve only got a tentative grasp of the basics—but it’s definitely not the Herculean feat it seemed to be back when I first wondered how to go about making a visual novel game all those years ago.
(Bonus tip: if, like me, you find the official Ren’Py guide and tutorial confusing at first, try watching some YouTube walkthroughs and just playing around with the projects that come with your initial Ren’Py download!)
4. Give yourself permission to use stock or royalty-free materials. As an art student, I avoided stock photos like the plague. I wanted to be able to say every element of every piece was my work, and mine alone. Similarly, when we discussed music for The Dragon’s Last Flight, a part of me balked at the idea of using royalty-free music—not because it wasn’t worthy, but because it felt false somehow, even though I planned to credit whatever artists’ music we used. If this is you, make yourself do what I did: tell yourself to stop it. That music/art/whatever is out there for a reason. These artists made these things free to use because they want them to be used. If you can get an original score, original art, or whatever else it is you need, great! But if not, remember that there’s no shame in making use of a resource freely offered. (Just make sure to attribute credit where credit is due.)
5. Don’t forget to have fun with it! It’s easy to get tunnel vision, especially when working on a tight deadline, and forget one very simple but important truth: you are making a game. Something your audience is meant to enjoy in some way, whether because it makes them laugh, think, jump out of their seat, or cry their eyes out. But don’t forget that you can—and should!—enjoy it too. Play with your words. Play with your code. Try things. Invent things. Have fun! (But maybe also keep a backup copy or two handy, just in case.)
For someone like me who has files upon files full of novel-length ideas but can’t write flash fiction to save her life (at least, not yet!), jams like NaNoWriMo or NaNoRenO can be extra challenging because they force us to condense—or at least, to be ready to adapt our plans if needed, no matter how deep we are into a project. It can be a little chaotic, but ultimately, if you do it right, it’s also a lot of fun. I look forward to finishing the rest of The Dragon’s Last Flight and (hopefully) releasing it sometime later this year—and I hope our players look forward to it, too!
