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From AAA to indie, from barks to missions, from spreadsheets to proprietary scripting systems, I've written thousands of words over a dozen years.
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Cinematic CutscenesAs a narrative designer and writer at Avalanche Studios, I wrote or co-wrote most of the cinematics for Just Cause 3 and Just Cause 4, as well as some of their DLCs.
These examples from Just Cause 4 were co-written with Nathaniel Bryan. The tonal target for JC4 was basically a superheroic Fast 5. 
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A Walk Through El AbismoImmediately following from the above scenes is this introductory walk-n-talk sequence, whose main purpose was setting up Just Cause 4's world of Solís and establishing the power dynamics between the people, the fledgling rebellion, and the Black Hand. It was also an interesting sequence because it's the only time in the franchise Rico is without his signature superpowers -- grappling hook, parachute, and wingsuit.
(Click the link below to download the script for this sequence.)
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I've had lots of experience, professional and personal, in crafting fantasy, vision, and narrative tone. This work involves drilling down into a unique experience, refining it to its most potent, concentrated, core self -- and then drumming up imagery, references, do's and don'ts, pillars, touchstone phrases, and even music playlists, all of which the dev team can use to realize that vision in everyday work.
What follows are snippets of my work in this area. Subtle Systems and Occasional Wow Moments |
Style & Tone:
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Otorongo's
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Just Cause 4's Otorongo side quest blended Rico's signature grappling hook action with a little Indiana Croft. I provided a backstory of colonial revisionism to each of the tomb. After completing each tomb, Rico earns a fragment of a poem. When Rico collects all six lines, Javi reassmbles the poem to reveal the Otorongo's final resting place. |
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The fragments of Otogongo's poem may be discovered in any order.
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The Poem Reassembled:
Far in the east, interred among |
Gameplay
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In Addition to Game Writing...
Prose
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The legend tells like this: once upon a time, the god wasn’t a god yet. But there was a giant, and his name was Ramafausti. He collected the swords of the knights he crushed, wearing more than twenty at a time, tucked into his yards-long sash like needles in a pincushion. The giant and his cronies tortured the villages along the mountain spine, lifting up the tiled roofs and taking whatever they felt like taking. Fish, wine, coins, blankets, children, llamas, lives. No god to protect them those days. But then a boy – big as he was bold – rose up from among the people, and on the day he came of age, he said, no more. And he pulled one of Ramafausti’s great curving swords out of the cracked armor of a beknighted corpse, and sang a challenge to the mighty giant. Ramafausti roared with laughter – this brave little crayfish! And even as those peg-toothed cronies chuckled and jeered, the boy swung the sword around him, twirling his body with the weight of the great thing, and he let it fly straight at the giant. One of Ramafausti’s own swords! The giant was laughing as his head popped off, and it sailed through the air and landed at the boy’s feet, where it now wore an expression of melted shock. They say it stood high as the boy’s waist, from its double chin to its unkempt topknot. The craven cronies tripped over themselves to flee, as they always do in such stories, and were never seen in those parts again. - Excerpted from an unpublished short story
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Poetry.Terse or flowery, tight or flowing, a long-lasting love of assonance and consonance that can console the heart and heal the soul. Rhymes aren't only clever conclusions, and blank spaces sometimes say more than full sentences.
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Whetstone Took a walk, had a Pause to Sit on a wet Stone beside the grooving Water and sharpen my Appreciation, to feel The earth turning After a Good Hike After a good hike your legs are sore your shoes are earthy your stomach is hungry your soul is full |
Brockport Summer 1 Lazy days reading Red sumac on the towpath Crunch crunch my footsteps Brockport Summer 2 Air conditioners Screaming over the crickets Sweltering starlight Forgotten I wrote a haiku, Fleeting as cherry blossoms-- And then forgot it. |