Sure, here’s a rewritten version of the article that fits your criteria:
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So, here’s the thing about writing novels—it’s mostly a one-person gig, right? You’re in this little bubble, scribbling away. And screenplays? Just about 120 pages, easy peasy (unless you’re like, working with Scorsese—it’s a whole other movie-length saga). But crafting the story for a video game? Oh boy, that’s a different beast. Hours and hours of content, plus everything’s gotta dance to the gameplay’s beat. Did I mention there’s usually a team? Yep, a whole gaggle of writers. Deadlines looming? You just might find yourself tossing words around like confetti at 3 a.m. Now and then, something brilliant pops up. Go figure.
Anyway, switch gears to Clair Obscur. Okay, it’s got all these French-flavored quirks that gamers love. But seriously, Esquie’s the star here. This particular campfire chat? Legends speak of Esquie babbling about François to Verso. Classic François is a grouch, but Esquie’s like, “Franfran was all ‘Wheeee!’ Now he’s more of a ‘Whooo.’” They even drag players into this whee/woo spectrum. Super silly, right? Should probably patent it.
So, I guess Svedberg-Yen, the writer, spills the beans—it was a 3 a.m. brainwave. Seven relationship chats for Esquie? Why not? That stuff’s gold.
Now, get this: Clair Obscur: Expedition 33 clocked around, oh, 800 pages? And that’s just the tip. We’re not counting the gigabytes of NPC chit-chat or the lore that holds the story together. Svedberg-Yen’s mantra? Inspiration’s everywhere, man. Monoco, the floater in the game? Totally inspired by her dog. True story. Apparently, when her dog needed a trim, it turned into a Monoco and Verso dialogue. “You look like an overgrown mop,” she literally said that. To her dog. And voila, it’s in the game.
Oh, yeah, the “whee whoo” thing—made even less sense in the midnight haze. But who cares? It just worked. “I knew what I wanted to say, it’s about feeling joy and grief,” she says. Sleep-deprived, words eluding her, and there it was: “wheeeeee!”
Fantasy writer life, huh? Svedberg-Yen’s compass is set on authenticity, crafting characters grounded in reality—even if they’ve got two heads or fly on Thursdays. No self-doubt about her gut feels—even when they border on bizarro. Levity’s a footnote in the tragedy of Clair Obscur. It’s life, after all. “Pushed the envelope? Maybe. But when words escape me, it’s all about what’s bubbling inside at that moment.” Authentic vibes only, folks.
