At some point, writing a novel feels like a solo mission, right? Or, like, a film script? Those are around 120 pages max—unless you’re doing some epic Scorsese thing. But video games? Whole different animal. You’ve got to fill hours. H-o-u-r-s. And make it mesh with the gameplay. Oh, and you’re not alone. Toss in a team of writers, too. Imagine it’s 3 a.m., and you’re just throwing words at a wall, hoping something sticks. Crazy, but sometimes genius happens.
So, in this game, Clair Obscur, there’s this jumble of French stuff that just grabs people. Especially Esquie. There’s this chat in the game—kind of a campfire thing—where Esquie talks about his buddy François with Verso. Got me thinking—François used to be all “Wheee!” Now he’s like, “Whooo.” So, Esquie goes off, explaining the whole “whee/woo” thing while players navigate this dialogue maze. Ridiculous? Totally.
And Svedberg-Yen, the writer? She’s all, “It was 3 a.m., and I just needed Esquie to say something relationship-y.” She laughs, admitting the chaos. Seven dialogues due? Just another all-nighter, I guess.
Get this: the script for Clair Obscur: Expedition 33 is like 800 pages. That doesn’t even count all the babbling NPCs or the lore files. Svedberg-Yen basically pulls ideas from… well, everywhere. Exhibit A: Monoco, another character? Modeled after her own dog. He needed a trim, so bam, Monoco talks haircuts in the game. Verso calls him an “overgrown mop.” Seriously, she said that to her dog. Why not use it?
Now, about that “whee whoo” nonsense—it’s late-night madness, no doubt, but it clicked. “I wanted it heavy and sad, meshed with joy and grief,” Svedberg-Yen explains. “I was zonked. Words failed. So, ‘wheeeeee!’ it was.”
As a fantasy writer, Svedberg-Yen aims for authenticity from these surreal, real-feeling characters. She trusts her gut—even when it’s, let’s call it, quirky. Clair Obscur dances between heavy and light. Because, well, isn’t that just life? Ever push too far? She wonders sometimes but mostly runs with what she’s feeling. That rawness? That’s her truth, she reckons.
