Month: February 2012

Jeffrey Scott is a second generation animation writer.  Jeffrey described to me how he got his start when his father “was a story editor at Hanna-Barbera.  At that time they actually had ‘assistant’ story editors.  Well, my dad’s assistant had some upset with H-B and quit.  I was the only person my father could think of to replace him.  So I started as an assistant story editor on Dynomutt: Dog Wonder.  My dad would tell me to write a premise.  I said, ‘What’s a premise?”’ And he’d show me.  Then he’d tell me to turn it into an outline.  I said, ‘What’s an outline?’  And he showed me.  So I was blessed with a six month apprenticeship from a top story editor who, as my father, cared that I learned my craft well.  Then my dad sold a series (The Robonic Stooges) and I took his place as story editor of Super Friends.  The rest is toon history” and launched Jeffrey Scott’s career.

Next I wondered what motivated him to start writing about how the business worked in articles and book.  “One of the things I learned long ago was that an artist had to be a businessman to survive.  So about six years ago I contacted the editor of Animation Magazine (Sarah Baisley at that time), and had lunch with her.  I told her that her magazine was great, but that it never mentioned anything about writing, which was (and is!) one of the most important elements of good animation.”  At that time, he “volunteered to write a column on the subject and she happily agreed.  I didn’t do this just for philanthropic reasons, I had a business motive as well.  I knew that with a circulation of 25,000 I would be getting free publicity each time my articles appeared.  It not only increased my recognition in the industry, but several studios have contacted me as a direct result of their having read an article.”

I asked what Jeffrey enjoyed covering about writing, being a writer himself.  “I’ve enjoyed writing all of the articles.  Most of my Animation Magazine articles have been about the technical side of animation writing, including how to get ideas, how to develop a story, how to sell your work, the essentials of a bible, how to pitch, how to get an agent.  Actually, all of my Animation Magazine articles can be found on my website at www.jeffreyscott.tv.  These articles were the basis of my book, which expanded on all of these topics and filled in the blanks.”  The move to put together the book was motivated by the fact that “[d]uring the course of my entire career I had been jotting down notes and putting them in my file, knowing that one day I was going to write a book.  It’s my personal belief that anyone who knows the technology of a subject has a duty to ensure that the next generation knows what he/she knows so they can build on it and improve the product.  Keeping usable data to oneself is a bit selfish.  Many people are afraid to tell others how they succeeded for fear that it will increase the competition and they might somehow lose something.  I don’t believe that.  On the contrary, I believe that by helping others to survive you only help yourself.  Finally, after years of jotting down notes, and having written over a dozen Animation Magazine columns, I found myself with little work to do one spring and decided it was time to write the book.  It was a lot of fun to connect the dots between my columns and turn it into a complete picture of the professional animation writing business.”

As to the responses he’s received to his book: “I’ve been thrilled to hear people’s thoughts about the book.  Everyone that has contacted me has told me how much they’ve enjoyed it, both technically and as an enjoyable read.  I really put my heart into the book, and apparently that comes across to readers.  One person just wrote and told me that she gave the book to her 15-year-old son after she read it.  He read it and was so inspired he’s now writing a cartoon script.  That’s quite heartwarming.  In fact, my true goal for the book is that it gets discovered by some public school administrator who realizes that it could be very effectively used to motivate kids to write.  Which would you rather write, a dry essay on the Puritans or an exciting cartoon script?”

When asked if Jeffrey felt more people should be writing about the animation industry, he responded that “[t]he industry is changing pretty quickly now, especially with the advent of computer animation, and it would be nice if the literature kept up with new trends.  But I’m not aware of a dearth of books in the field.  Hopefully my book, How to Write for Animation, filled in the hole with regard to professional animation writing.”  He felt that someone should consider writing about the animation industry “[w]hen they have something helpful to say,” and in fact admits he’s “not a big fan of ‘armchair experts’ writing about subjects with which they have little experience.  It’s quite honorable for a busy professional to take the time to communicate his or her valuable experience.  But it seems a bit self-indulgent to me for someone who knows little about a subject to give their ‘opinions’ about it.”  As to someone wanting to pursue writing about animation, Jeffrey admits that “I must be honest here and say that I have trouble with the concept of someone wanting ‘to pursue writing about animation’.  If you’re a professional, then by all means write up the experience that you found worked well so that others can use it.  But if someone just wants to write about subjects they don’t really know, they should write fiction, not non-fiction.  So the answer to your question is, if you want to write about some aspect of animation then spend a good 10 or 20 years doing it before you write about it.”  Speaking of someone who goes out and interviews others to compile that collective experiences, Jeffrey indicated that “[i]f someone is solely interviewing professionals and compiling their practical experience into an article or book, then it really wouldn’t matter how much experience they had in the industry, provided they were a good writer and could communicate the material.  This would be a valuable service.  On the other hand, if an interview is interjecting their own views and evaluating the material, it would seem to me to be more appropriate if they had a good deal of animation experience so they could effectively and intelligently make an evaluation” of the business.

First off, I wondered what got Jerry specifically interested in the history of animation.  “When I was a comic book addict teenager,” he replied,  “I noticed that the Bugs Bunny cartoons on TV seemed funnier than I thought they were when I was a kid. The more I watched, the more I couldn’t believe how great these cartoon masterpieces were.”  Jerry later decided to make a career out of documenting the medium’s rich history.  “After falling in love with the Looney Tunes in my teenage years, I tried to read more about them. How many were there? Who made these? There were no books on the subject. So I started to research them myself. I began by compiling a master list of all old Hollywood cartoons… I met up with Leonard Maltin, who was teaching a history of animation class in New York (around 1975). We became friends and I became his associate on his book OF MICE AND MAGIC (which was published in 1980).”

Jerry’s first book, The Warner Brothers Cartoons (1981), came about when he “expanded my list of Warner Bros. cartoons with my associate Will Friedwald into a book for Scarecrow Press.”  He continued, explaining that, “Scarecrow is a bottom of the barrel, institutional & library books mainly, publisher. We sent them a sample of our filmography. They agreed to publish it. We couldn’t get permission to use pictures of Bugs Bunny, so we published it without any images. That book is still in print!”
“Most commercial book publishers are not that interested in animation books unless it’s tied into a very famous character, movie, or gimmick,” Jerry noted when I asked, in his experience, what the demand for this kind of material seems to be,  “hence my books like THE 50 GREATEST CARTOONS or OUTLAW ANIMATION.”  As far as what’s involved to research a book like this, “for any book about history, you have to love the subject and be enthusiastic about the smallest details of its history.”  In Jerry’s case,  “I love the 1930s and 1960s Warner Bros. cartoons, thus I enjoy researching them. Sometimes you have to spend days and weeks researching the tiniest details, like release dates. Maybe no one will notice, but I’m proud of the small things… I spend a lot of time at the Academy library (in Beverly Hills ) looking at newspaper clippings and digging up trade magazines.”  Jerry’s passion about animation history extends beyond the page.  “I do screenings locally with ASIFA HOLLYWOOD and other groups. I’ve been collecting 16mm cartoon film prints and videos and I love to show films and discuss them with audiences. I’ve also taught at the AFI, UCLA, NYU and the School of Visual Arts . I think showing animation is the best way to communicate about it. I also started my CARTOONRESEARCH.com website to further the knowledge.”

When I asked Jerry what he enjoys most about documenting animation history: “The more people know about animation history, the more people want to see more and know more. It encourages more interest and enthusiasm in the subject.”  However, as far as challenges, he notes that “it’s not a very well paying career, I’m sad to say, I’m an animation historian out of the love of it. I make a living by doing freelance writing, and occasionally write and produce animated films. I previously worked in film distribution, as an animation executive (at Nickelodeon & others), and was a journalist for a trade mag, KIDSCREEN.”

Jerry feels animation history is an area that other writers can still break in to.  “There is plenty of opportunity. As long as animation continues to be made, there will always be stories to be told about their creation. And the whole story of animation’s 100 year history has not been completely covered yet. I want to read more about Terrytoons! I want to see books about Fleischer, Bill Tytla, John Hubley and many others.”

I greatly appreciate your time, Jerry, for giving readers a glimpse into ways to keep animation’s rich heritage alive as non-artists.

Frankly, I’d never heard the term “interstitial” before I took my current animated job.  So when I was first told I would be a production coordinator for 100 interstitials, I had no idea what I was getting into; all my previous experience was on 11-minute stories like those on INVADER ZIM or 22-minute episodes of shows like EXTREME GHOSTBUSTERS and JUMANJI.

Basically, interstitials are short animated pieces, usually used as bridge pieces or filler between longer pieces, but can also air separately depending on the broadcast rules of a given country.  Given that animation is generally a page and a half per minute of screen time, scripts are just a few pages at most.  Storyboards average between thirty and forty pages.

On the surface this may sound very boring and tedious.  I admit that tying to keep track of lots of little pieces, that aren’t any real intense storylines, may not seem appealing at first.  But bear in mind that each interstitial has some sort of beginning, middle, and end – a “mini-story” if you will.  And because they are shorter material, you potentially get exposed to a wider variety of mini-plots, themes, and ideas.  That’s one of the things I’ve enjoyed most about the job.  For our production, the manageability issue was overcome by treating the interstitials in groupings of ten two-minute interstitials, equivalent to the length of one 22-minute episode each.

Also, because they are just interstitials, we’ve had a smaller staff than I’m used to working with. This has required me to fill some script coordinator and post coordinator roles out of the necessity that we don’t have these positions, so they are part of my job umbrella.   Of course, then I can put this knowledge on my resume to help me get jobs later on. This for me has been another excellent reward of the project.

So if a job comes your way to work on animated interstitials, don’t turn it down just because it’s “not a show,” especially if you’re just starting out.

More opportunities than ever seem to be cropping up for non-artists to learn about the animation industry.  A screenwriter’s conference in the Fall of 2002, mainly geared to live-action writers, has several seminars scheduled devoted to animation.  Now in the bookstores, alongside the animation artist-geared books that have been available for years, are books for writing and non-artist aspects of producing animation.  Classes geared specifically to writing animation are available through continuing education, many of them online and available to aspiring writers around the world. With so many choices, and so many people offering advice, how do you sort out the worthwhile stuff from people who don’t really know what in the world they’re talking about?

First off, doubt everything.  Hey, doubt me too, for that matter.  There’s a reason a fair number my columns consist of interviewing others, and that’s because I am well aware that I do not know it all.  That said, there’s also some experience I have that other people at my level are not sharing, and I think — or at least hope, anyway — that insight into the lower ranks of the production ladder really can help someone wanting to break in know what to expect.

A credentials check should be what you do first.  In the instructor biography, on the book’s back cover, look for specific projects people have worked on.  Sometimes they’ll tell you what positions they had on shows or at companies; confirm them.  If all they’ve done is claim they worked for companies but don’t say what they did, the radar should go up.  Be sure to check what that potential instructor or book author did in fact work at that company, and see if those positions at those companies involved animation in any way.  They may have an extensive resume at all the major studios, but if the total experience in animation adds up to very little, you should choose someone with a greater wealth of animation experience.

This industry tends to have a lot of people in it embellishing their resumes.  It also tends to have a lot of people playing up projects that have not been produced; however, this is not necessarily bad.  Not everything that gets developed gets made in animation.  Someone with a lot of developed but unproduced series under his or her belt may very well be good at what they do, and just not been fortunate enough to be with, or find, a company able to make things happen.  Or it could just be that they know enough people to keep getting gigs places but are ultimately replaced on shows because they truly are not capable. On any case, these people still can say they developed such and such a show on their resumes, because it’s true.  They did take a pass at developing the show.  Their version just didn’t get made.  Now if someone says he or she helped create a show, happened to be on staff at the time, and maybe the most they did was gave a suggestion to someone at one point that just happened to be followed — that’s more my definition of fudging your credits.

So do your homework before doing your studies, in other words.

Having said that, experience does not in itself make people good instructors.  I also mean this in the sense of books; someone may write a great creative script but be totally unable to express concepts in nonfiction.  You may be able to glean a lot from that wealth of experience, but if the information is communicated in an ineffective way, much of the impact is lost.  If you have the access to ask other people’s opinions (who have read the book, taken the course, etc.), by all means do so before spending.  It’s your precious money, and you should want to be making an investment, not throwing it away.

As to whether books or classes are more effective, that is up to your own personal learning style.  I do well with either, though I enjoy the ability in a classroom setting (whether online or in person) to interact and the immediacy of asking questions specifically tailored to my current needs.  Others may prefer this road because they hate reading.  Some people, on the other hand, are far too shy to ask questions and feel more at ease being able to learn on their own time.

Essentially, don’t let your eagerness and passion totally blind you into thinking that every class or book geared towards non-artists in animation fits your needs.  Make sure you’re getting your money’s worth and worthwhile experience.

All the buzz that arose about Adam Sandler’s animated movie 8 Crazy Nights offering to animate brands into the film for sponsors willing to pay makes it sound like product placement is new and innovative to animation.  Since it’ set in a mall, Sony’s been actively soliciting chain stores to see if they are willing to have product placement.  In case you are not familiar with the term, it’s basically the agreement to provide product as props to a show, — or in the case of animation, draw in the props with its logo clearly visible — often in exchange for covering some of the production costs.

However, as someone reminded me, it certainly wouldn’t be the first time product placement’s occurred in animation — just look at a certain famous doll in Toy Story 2.  It’s just never been pointed out so strongly before.  I’m very interested if product placement will become implemented more often as a result of 8 Crazy Nights or not, though it probably would not work in most of the fantasy/SF animated films that make up the bulk of the animated features released today.

Right now, most product placement seems to be confined to feature films.  In television animation, which until recently was perceived as strictly for children, there’s still an instinctive need to protect kids.  Also, with all the merchandising tie-ins to product based on successful shows, companies may not want to muddy things pushing other products.  Product placement on television seems most logical with prime-time and late-night animation offerings.

Since I interviewed for jobs related to this area, I’ve had to ask myself how I feel about product placement.  Ultimately I believe that consumers should be able to decide for themselves, and the use of specific brands visibly in a program is not in and of itself a big deal.  But when the brand names unnaturally get worked into dialogue, I think at that point (largely as a writer) it goes too far.  The dialogue just sounds too unnatural, most times.  The other reality is that the business gets more expensive, and product placement is an avenue to explore to cut costs and find needed props.  It just must be exercised with caution and care, particularly in programs children watch.

I want to stress that while working at a product placement company isn’t an animation job per se, it can put you in contact with companies that produce animation.   This depends, of course, on what animated productions are being done and what kind of product they would use.  If the product placement company doesn’t represent what the production needs (you can always influence them to shift to the brand you represent, but they must need the item to begin with), then there will be no connection with a given animation script.  Still expect the bulk of your work at any product placement company to be live-action, since that’s where most of the work is.  The companies ultimately broker the brand, not the medium.  However, if you want a potential association with animation, it is a possibility to explore.  Be sure to ask prospective employers how often they deal with animation companies and/or how they would feel about handing animated scripts if that’s crucial to you wanting to work in the product placement field.

SHANNON MUIR:  Your early experience in the gaming field included sound design and being a director of photography.  When and how did you make the switch over to game design?

RANDY LITTLEJOHN: During the time I was working as a Director of Photography on Sierra On-Line games, such as Phantasmagoria and Gabriel Knight II: The Beast Within, I acquired some allies that came in handy later – people who believed in me.  The most important of these allies was the video production manager, Bill Crow.  Later, when Sierra On-Line and other companies decided to discontinue doing live action games, rather than sending me to the wolves, I was given the opportunity to use some old skills from my rock and roll band days and early college education as a music major to land a position as a co-sound designer of a game called Lighthouse.  During the production of this game I began lobbying for an opportunity to get into game design, and with the help of Bill Crow, I did indeed manage to get a job as an assistant game designer.  From that time on I remained in game design.

SM: Generally speaking, how is character development handled in game design?

RL: With rare exception (Jane Jenson’s and Christy Marx’s adventure games, for instance) computer games have been controlled by the idea that they are ‘games’.  Thus, arcade-like experiences and artificial puzzle-solving have been the main emphasis in game production, even while the graphic and sound environments have become more and more realistic – even as non-player-characters (NPCs) have become embedded with so-call ‘AI’ (artificial intelligence).  The idea of ‘story’ has largely been used to set the stage for first person shooters and role-playing games.  Once the game begins, story elements become simplistic, linear or at least pre-defined, and ‘underwhelming’, if they exist at all.   With the exceptions mentioned above, character development is something left behind after opening movies and seldom-read documents that come with the game, which outline who’s who, and why they’re doing what.  It is rare indeed to find good character development and multi-layered, gradually unfolding stories in computer games.

Half-Life II seems to be a partial move towards a remedy to this.  The NPCs in Half-Life II have more ability to communicate a range of emotions than perhaps in any game before, except for the days of live-action games.  They are also the most ‘life-like’ of any computer-generated characters in a game thus far. Nevertheless, judging only from the E3 demo, Half-Life II seems still to be basically a ‘shooter’, rather than an interactive drama, albeit in a more realistic universe than usual.

SM: Again, generally, can you paint a picture of how story is determined in game design?

RL: Today computer games are often serial incarnations of a good-selling franchise title.  So the ‘stories’ are extensions of what has already been set up in previous games.  In general, people who are often not professional writers or professional storytellers, but who may be ‘designers’ or ‘producers’ will hash out a story premise for a game, or will decide on a setting populated by a certain kind of characters and monsters, and will pre-define game features.  The operating system and the genre of game will help determine what kind of action will take place in the game.  Sometimes a professional writer will be brought in to take what has already been decided upon and flesh it out.  The professional writer may write a background story that sets the stage for the action and/or will write up biographies for the main characters.  Much of this will never been seen in the game itself, beyond opening movies and cinematics (non-interactive interludes). Sometimes professional writers will even get in on dialogue writing.  But in terms of actual game design, my experience has been that in general, there’s little attempt or little interest in interweaving story and character development into the non-linear, interactive design for the game.  There are exceptions.

The massively multi-player on-line game Earth and Beyond makes a gallant attempt at interweaving an evolving story and interesting characters into their game engine.  A professional writer with a background in drama was finally hired (after some false starts) to oversee the narrative elements of the game.  Professional writers were also called in to help with dialogue writing (Christy and myself, among others).  This game, however, is an exception to the usual computer game, and missing is any kind of autonomous narrative activity by NPCs.  In addition, the NPC animations are very limited.  This game does not try to represent a ‘real’ experience.  It’s very much a ‘game’.

SM:  Considering your educational background in drama, are there things that you feel you be improved in the approach to character and storytelling, and can you provide an example of the feel of a game might differ whether or not such principles were applied?

Randy responded by citing from a work-in-progress paper:

RL: I think that the masses are ready to spend money for an interactive drama that leaves the trappings of “computer games” behind.   Whoever builds this groundbreaking system is going to get rich.

My intent is the creation of a new kind of interactive experience that is comfortable and compelling for the masses. This new art form would immerse the experiencer inside of a reality very much like what he or she is already familiar and with – film and television.

My primary interest can now best be described as R&D in “interactive drama.”  By focusing on drama instead of storytelling I free myself from the restraints of preconceptions of linearity in my search for a method of ‘interactive dramatic narrative presentation’.

In my imagined design the moment-to-moment experience is not defined.  Nevertheless,  a satisfactory dramatic experience demands there to be a definite beginning, middle, and end, which will support a rising level of tension until the dramatic climax and resolution are achieved.  My goal is to create a system in which the dramatic and narrative support elements and principles and macro-level structure are pre-defined, in order to achieve “drama,” but in which these elements are active in a non-linear, non-branching way at the micro-level.

In a nutshell I want to create an environment in which the player and AI-smart NPCs, each with their own goals, biases, and methodologies, co-create the narrative at the micro-level, in real time, as their actions trigger the results of dramatic situations that are pre-defined.

I have long believed that combining a story/drama world-authoring engine with something like Haptek’s “People Putty” (www.haptek.com) represents some of the major software components of such a project.  At one time the People Putty engine was being considered for an adventure game at Sierra.  I was present for long demos and was able to talk at length with the founder of Haptek, Chris Shaw.  So I am very familiar with what they’ve done.

People Putty creates 3D animated agents and provides for their 3D environments.  These agents are low-polygon creations covered by photo-realistic skins.  Their software automatically creates “fidgets,” eye blinking, reflections, shadows, etc. and provides for an environment for the characters to be in.

Agents can respond to input.  The input can be from a keyboard, mouse, or through spoken words.  Text input can be embedded in scripts with emotional and movement cues.  Code embedded into text input can also cause the agents to physically morph, change costumes, change backgrounds, etc.  In other words, scripts written for the agents to speak can also be embedded with code that will cause other actions as well.

A big deal is made out of the fact that these characters can morph in real time into new characters as demanded by the user via scripting.  But it is more interesting to me that these agents can be “taught” to react with “apparent emotion” to objects within their physical environment – including to other agents.

Much of what Haptek has achieved is now also available by way of the characters in Half-Life II.  The work that is left to be done is the creation of an experience that is based on a ‘drama engine’, focused on a dramatic experience.  The bias of ‘game-thought’ is central to role-playing, first person shooters and massively multi-player on-line games.  I seem room for a new paradigm for the masses that leaves game-thought behind.

I see technology advancing at an incredible rate, but few people outside of academia seem to be thinking about how to evolve the tools of drama so that they can work in an interactive environment.  That’s my interest.  But this interest needs a test bed.

I look out there and see that all of the components (though dispersed in various non-entertainment fields) are now available, and if combined, could lead to a new kind of interactive entertainment – call it interactive drama – or interactive drama worlds – call it working towards an evolution of drama towards preparation for a real ‘Star Trek Holodeck’ experience.

I envision a system combining interacting modules into system to support life-like NPCs with the ability to ‘act’ – call them ‘synthespians’.  The list of modules would include at least the following: Adaptive Learning, Pattern Recognition, Expert Systems, Speech Processing, and Text Parsing.  But I do not envision creating autonomous agents that are truly ‘aware’, of course.

As a metaphor let me give an example: stage sets are only designed to the degree that they will be used. If a door in a flat is to be used, it is built strongly enough so that it can be used.  If the door will never be used there doesn’t even have to be an opening in the flat – just a door painted on the surface.

Drama is smoke and mirrors – it only needs to seem real.  There doesn’t need to be “real” understanding by the machine, or “real” communication.  It only needs to appear to the experiencer that there is real intelligence, understanding, and communication.

This is what I mean by synthespians: I’d like to explore the potential of creating autonomous agents with “dramatic character”.  In other words, I’d like to see autonomous agents with goals, biases, and abilities to carry out “intent” – all inspired by the principals of drama.  I’d like to explore the possibilities of autonomous interaction between agents that move forward by the principals of drama.  These agents would have as much potential to be “aware of”, interact with, and change their persistent environment as the interactive drama experiencer.

I envision an experience in which synthespians and the experiencer interact in a “drama-world” made of theatrically atmospheric environments saturated with exposition (story elements), dramatic potential and events orchestrated by a “drama-engine”.   I see a dramatic work arising from an environment where, given certain starting criteria, there can be an emergent and yet dramatic story. This emerging drama would be co-created by the synthespians with conflicting goals and biases and the experiencer as a result of their actions in the drama-world.

I am especially interested in the potential of creating a dramatic situation in which an autonomous “sidekick” or “partner” would join the human experiencer in an adventure/ quest.  I envision a human stranger in a strange land, with the sidekick being the liaison, as well as potential friend, helper, and fighting partner.  This sidekick would be an AI-smart ‘synthespian’ that can apparently learn and reason, who is afflicted with needs and desires, as we all are, and who is motivated by a strong dramatic goal that is in conflict with the state of the ‘drama-world’.

Invisible in all of this is the “dramatist” in the background – behind the curtain, who uses a new kind of tool to ‘direct’ the theatrical potential of the experience by inputting narrative elements, inherent conflict, characters (with wants, needs, goals, schedules and action abilities) and dramatically “soaked” environments through a software interface, and where the user does not have to be a programmer – just a dramatist.

What I see is an interactive drama for the masses who have computers, but who are not ‘gamers’.  The masses will be drawn to this experience because of three things: it’s familiar like TV and film, the interface is simple and intuitive, and because the synthespians are emotionally evocative and their plight is understandable and just.   There are no brainteasers laid artificially and superficially into the design.  If there are to be puzzles, they are puzzles that evolve out of the dramatic backbone of the experience.  In fact, everything that can be considered a trapping of ‘game thinking’ would be absent from this new kind of interactive dramatic experience.  Though the designer knows that the experience will have a beginning that sets up the narrative, a middle with evolving conflict, and an end with a good resolution – know one knows how the dramatic experience will evolve.  Going from A to B to C will be a non-linear, yet emotionally powerful, experience.

SM: How do you feel a change in viewpoint could be injected into the existing interactive entertainment arena?

RL: I don’t know.  As large corporations have bought up smaller game companies the tried and true gaming genres have become dogma, even though the interactive entertainment industry is just a child compared to TV, which is a child compared to film, which is a child compared to thousands of years of dramatic evolution in theatre.   But large corporations are good at making money and loath to take a risk.  This puts the brakes on the evolution of interactive entertainment – for now.

It will take a design team to create such an experience – not just a designer.  The team will be composed of a programming lead, a dramatist/ storyteller/ writer, an art lead, and a sound/music lead.  There will be no talk of ‘levels’ and such.  There will be no talk of whether the experience will be a shooter, a role-playing game, or a massively multi-player on-line game.  There will be no mention of the word ‘game’.  Instead there will be talk of ‘narrative environments’, synthespians, synthespian directors, motivations, subtext and goals, emotional environments, and real-time adaptive music.  There will be talk of the macro-level ‘drama engine’, which provides for a three-act structure, like an umbrella, over non-linear narrative development.

I suspect that some day, someone with vision will be in a position to create a dramatic and interactive computer experience for the masses.  It will become the biggest thing ever.  And then everyone one will want in.  Suddenly the bean counters and marketing people who now advise against risk will be clamoring to be a part of the new ‘next great thing’ – before it’s too late.

SM:  How likely do you think it is that this will actually come to pass?

RL: I think it’s inevitable.

SM: What can consumers who would like to see this kind of storytelling approach in their interactive entertainment do?

RL: Support ‘games’ that include story and character development.  Write to the big interactive companies and tell them that you demand strong, non-linear storytelling and well-developed, believable characters.  Don’t have low expectations about what is possible.

—

Thank you, Randy, for sharing your insights.

l the lyrics, you don’t have to do that…” Or after you’ve written a section, “Oh, the part where the bird flies in, that’s a running gag, it works like this….” So you have to go back and redo the section now that you know the gag.

In an original series, you usually have some writer’s meetings and you get a pretty comprehensive bible and guidance on these things from the story editors, but with ADR writing, there are often no show bibles, or very thin ones, and the story editors often only come into play after you finish your first draft. So a lot of the time you’re just taking your best guess at everything. If you have an idea for a running gag or a signature phrase for a character, you can put it out there, write a note in the script suggesting that the other writers pick up on the idea. Often there’s not enough communication for the other writers to get the message. For instance, on Gatchaman (Eagle Riders) I had the idea that the ship’s computer could have different “personality settings,” so that it would have different character voices in different episodes. Though the idea was used for that episode, it never passed on to other writers. In other cases, however, running gags or signature ideas do get passed around and become part of the series.

For story editors, the process is different than for writers. You attend meetings with producers – sometimes network executives or other executives on the project. We discuss how the series works, the
characters, the arc of the series (how it changes from the first episode to the last) and all other considerations relating to the scripts. Then writers receive tapes and translations – usually one tape at a time – the
translation may be in hard copy, or it may be sent as an e-mail attachment or delivered on disc. The writer is also given a deadline to complete the script (typically ridiculously short).

The writer takes the tape home and works on his own equipment — video equipment with good frame control is essential — or the alternative is to have the tape digitized and work on your computer rather than on a VCR: this is still rare, but will probably become common over the next few years.

The writer generally watches the whole episode, reads the translation, then goes to work. If you’re lucky enough to be working with a savvy producer like Rita Majkut or Jamie Simone at ABC, they may talk you through the episode letting you know what direction they want to go with it – but that’s rare. Most of the time you’re on your own for the first draft.

To break it down technically: The script will include time codes and dialogue. The time code works like this: each frame has a number, you can see it on the screen — 30 frames for each second of screen time. So when a character starts speaking, we note the frame number where he starts. When he stops speaking, we note the frame number where he stops. Then we write the line to fit in that space. That way, in the recording studio, the engineer can punch these numbers into his recording equipment, so he and the actors and director can
instantly find the location of the line and easily record the new English line at that spot. This speeds up the recording process immeasurably and, more importantly, it allows the actors to maintain their momentum and focus so they can concentrate on their characters and not be slowed down by technical issues.

So the writer’s work is a mix of creative work, writing dialogue, and non-creative detail work, locating and recording time code numbers. Time coding is a boring technical exercise. There are a few people around who only do time codes: sometimes writers farm out that part of the work to these coders (bless them). But usually the writer does his own codes. You can do all of the codes in a single pass before you start writing: some writers prefer that because at that point you’re just focusing on numbers, that frees you up later to just focus on dialogue. Also, by the time you’ve done a numbers pass, you’ve watched every scene and you’re a little more familiar with the episode.  Other writers prefer to do the codes as they go, putting in numbers and dialogue one loop at a time. I work either way depending on how I’m feeling at the moment.

With the Cowboy Bebop Movie we did this all backwards.  We received tapes with no time code so we had to write all the lines first, then later gave it to a time coder who went back and spotted all the numbers. This is a very difficult way to work, not recommended. Similarly, I worked on just time codes for Laputa and Kiki’s delivery services for Disney because they re-edited after the script was complete, so we had to go back and redo all of the numbers. Along with dialogue, numbers must be spotted every time a character gasps, grunts, or makes any kind of sound. So this process typically involves 15 or 16 thousand code numbers on a full length script: you can easily go number crazy doing it.

Putting in numbers entails finding the start point for each loop. A loop is when an actor speaks or makes a sound. So every time an actor will need to say a line, or gasp, or cry, or make any other sound, you need to find the spot where he will begin and note the frame number. — Those numbers later go to an engineer who punches them into the recording system so that when we’re recording we can move very rapidly from one loop to the next without hunting around for spots.  This saves lots of time in recording, but, perhaps more important, it allows the actor to maintain their momentum and focus so they can concentrate on their character and not be slowed down by technical issues.

As I mentioned, the main part of the job is, of course, trying to write great creative dialogue that syncs and moves the story forward, but concurrently, you are trying to provide the director, actors, engineer and producers with what they need to have smooth, efficient recording sessions. So as you work, you always want to keep the recording session in mind. My goal is to make everyone at the session feel that the script is on their side, supporting them, giving them the info they need, notes, codes, whatever it may be. I don’t want them to feel they’re struggling with my script, working to interpret or adjust it, or feeling that there are things missing. Of course none of this ultimately prevents them from trashing the writer. It’s a running joke in the business that when things go wrong at a recording session you always blame the writer, mostly because he’s not there, so he’s a natural target. So when the writer sits in on a session, it ruins everyone’s fun: they have to find someone else to blame. The receptionist!

Back to the writing process: as you’re working your way through the video, you’re stopping at each loop, figuring out what the character should be saying here, and then crafting it to fit into the mouth movement and/or time slot. You come up with a possible line, then speak it out loud while watching the picture to see if it will fit. Then you start adjusting it, shorter or longer. Or you decide it’s not good enough, so you throw it out and try another line. In this way you go over and over the same 3 second spot relentlessly until you nail it down. Then you move on to the next 2 ½ second spot, etc, for 300 to 500 spots per 22 minutes.  By the way, this can have in interesting impact on your relationship with the neighbors: if they happen to be passing by as you are  repeatedly shouting out “I will take over the universe! NOTHING CAN STOP ME! HAHAHAHAHA!” it may tend to color their opinion of you. Well, you probably didn’t want to be invited to their party anyway.

In addition to writing each line, you also put in any parentheticals that will help the actor. Parentheticals such as (sadly) or (harsh) or (shouting out) are usually kept to a minimum in original scripts, however, for ADR scripts, the more guidance you can give the actor, the better. You also have to include notes letting the actor and director know if this line is on camera or off camera and many other technical notations. It’s very painstaking — drives a lot of people nuts. Some people think that’s what happened to me, but those who know me well would assure you that I lost sanity long before I started doing this. That’s probably why it seemed like a good idea.

When I finish the first draft, I do a read through and polish — I don’t know if other writers do this or not.  Virtually all writers who write original episodes do multiple re-drafts and polishes, but with ADR scripts I don’t know if they do.  I read through to feel the flow of the dialogue, usually making small adjustments as I go.

Everything in the script is laid out so it will be easy for the actors and directors to work with it in the recording studio. When we’re finished with the writing, we create “breakdowns,” “loop counts” and other documents to help with the planning and recording of the episode. A breakdown is a technical sheet listing all of the loops for each character, and a loop count with total numbers of loops for each character. When it’s complete, it is usually e-mailed to the company, along with a synopsis telling the story in brief, typically half a page, and any relevant notes.

Then you wait for the producers/ story editors to send notes telling you what changes you need to make for the next draft. As soon as you read their notes, you realize  with absolute certainty that they don’t know squat about writing or anime or anything else, and they certainly do not appreciate the great genius you put into this script —- however, once you begin to make the changes they suggested, you often realize that they’re a lot smarter than you thought, and they actually had a lot of good ideas that have improved the script after all.

SM:  Does it help to know the original language?

MH: I think it’s helpful and more enjoyable. I worked on a live-action tele-novella called La Dama dela Rosa — the most-work/least-pay ADR job I’ve ever done. I speak enough Spanish that I could follow most of the dialogue and have my own take on it — that made it more fun and gave me extra-ideas as I was writing. This would be even more true for someone who spoke Japanese; because the structure of the language is so different from English, there are many more options of how to interpret any given line, so knowing the language would be more helpful. I wish with all my heart I could speak Japanese, but I’m still on the same beginning Japanese book I was on a year ago. I don’t know of a single anime ADR writer who speaks Japanese. It would not make a major difference in their writing, but it would be a nice addition for any of us.

As I mentioned, on the Cowboy Bebop Movie and on FLCL I was working closely with Japanese speakers and I was able to ask lots of language questions. The FLCL script had copious language notes — that was ideal. That process makes you realize how open-to-interpretation it all is. E.g., in The Cowboy Bebop Movie, there’s a scene where Vincent leaves Faye tied up on the floor as he goes out to unleash his nano-machine gas. His parting line to Faye is about Purgatory. In Vincent’s earlier dialogue, he characterizes the whole world as a kind of Purgatory. I went over the script with two native Japanese speakers, both with excellent English skills. One of them insisted that Vincent was telling Faye, “After I leave you can watch what’s going to happen to this purgatory,” meaning, to this world, earth, which is a kind of purgatory. But the other Japanese speaker insisted, with equal vigor, that Vincent was saying, “You can watch what’s going to happen FROM your own purgatory” – an entirely different idea: that Vincent was leaving her tied up, alone, miserable, stuck in her own personal purgatory. This kind of discrepancy is very common. It is not a case of one translator being right and the other wrong. The original writer purposely left it open to interpretation, so an attempt at “literal translation” would not solve the problem. As I mentioned before, fans often talk about literal translations in an absolute way, and someone who is from Japan or lived there will sometimes insist that they know what the line actually means, but the reality is, Japanese people tend to communicate in non-specific ways, through innuendo, implication, and intentionally ambiguous phrasings – especially in stories. Plus the structure of the language is very different. So trying to nail down an exact meaning is very iffy at best.

To use a very simple every day example: The Japanese “O genki desuka” is usually translated “How are you?” A very literal translation of O genki desuka would look something like this:

“Respectfully, healthy is ?”

The “you” is implied. Obviously if you had a character say this, the American viewer would be totally lost. A more sensible direct translation might be

“Are you healthy?” or “Are you in good health?”

This actually makes more sense when you see how this phrase is used in Japan:  they generally don’t use it as an everyday greeting as we do with “How are you?” —  implying “How are you feeling today?” or “How are things going today?” They are more likely to use it after they haven’t seen someone for a long time, the way we would use, “How’s your health?” or “Have you been feeling okay?”

So a translator could choose any of these phrases, “How are you?” “Are you healthy?” “Are you feeling okay?” “How’s your health?” etc., and each would have a different implication in the context of the scene. So if the writer spoke the language, he might look at the scene and say, “Oh, the translator is saying “How are you?” but in this case, the character has been ill so it would be better to have the character say, “How’s your health?” In short, you could make better choices with more knowledge of the language.

SM: Would it help to be more familiar with the original storyline?

MH: The more familiar you are with the storyline, the better.

SM: What kinds of spec scripts are used to get jobs doing ADR?

MH: I have never seen full ADR spec scripts used to get ADR jobs. It may happen, but I haven’t seen it. Saban/Fox ran a few workshops where they taught adr writing and they had people write a scene or two on spec.  That’s enough to see if the writer understands the form and can write to picture, and to get a sense of how they write dialogue. So I guess you could write a few scenes of something and hand it to a producer along with the tape — it’s a bit complicated. Usually, when they hire someone for this, it’s kind of a leap of faith. One comedy show I worked on asked for non-ADR sample scripts — they just wanted to see if you could write funny. Many of the writers being considered didn’t have any non-ADR samples; they only wrote ADR, and the ADR scripts don’t work very well as comedy samples because you can’t get most of the jokes from just reading the dialogue without seeing the picture. ADR scripts are only dialogue and technical notes – there are no scene descriptions, so when you read it, there’s no context for the jokes. In original scripts it’s much easier for the reader to get the joke.  So for an ADR writer looking for work, it might be helpful to have some good strong non-ADR writing samples for an adventure script and/or a comedy script, depending on the kind of project it is, just to give a producer or story editor a feeling for the kind of dialogue you write. But this doesn’t come up often.

SM: Is dubbing animation more of a popular fad now that will fade, or do you believe it is here to stay in the mainstream?

MH: Ha. I talked to someone recently who had a possible investor for new projects. I said, “Ask if he’s interested in investing in importing shows from Asia.” He checked with his inside-the-business friends and called me back a few days later announcing that the consensus was: anime is just a minor trend and will soon be out of style.

My answer: That’s what they said about rock and roll.

I have been living in various Asian countries about half the time for the last few years and it is crystal clear to me that, in the coming years, more and more entertainment projects will be imported into the US. This is just a small part of a much larger global trend of countries trading entertainment products the same way they have long been trading food products, technical products, etc.  Imagine asking a Thai four hundred years ago when they first brought peanuts and chile from the Americas whether these foods would catch on in Thailand. I can just feature some Thai old-timer saying, “These chile peppers are too hot! And the peanuts taste funny! Our people will never eat these strange foods!” — Most Thais today eat so much of this stuff, they don’t even realize these foods aren’t native to their country. The music we listen to in the US is a mix mostly of European and African music with some other influences thrown in — but you forget about where it came from and just think of it as American music. The Astro Boy series that I’m working on now is a cultural mix. It’s definitely Japanese, but it there is heavy American influence. We’re moving toward something that would be neither Japanese nor American, but a genre of it’s own with influences from both.

Overall, I think Americans have a very inflated view of the value of their own entertainment products. It’s true American movies are sold around the world.  I’m very happy about that — but if you watch TV in any Asian country, flip the channels and you are much more likely to see period Chinese dramas (Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon style); Thai soap-operas; Baliwood Indian musicals; Hong Kong kung fu movies; and of course Japanese Anime. These shows are imported and exported from one Asian country to the next, and dubbed into the local language, usually very badly (although I recently saw a superb live-action Japanese dub of an American sit-com, so they’re starting to catch on).

American “youth culture” was turned on in the 60s by English rock bands (who were, oddly enough, imitating American black blues artists). Today young people are turned on by Japanese Anime, Salsa dancing, and World Music, among many other influences. These things are beyond the control of US industries that would rather keep them buying home-grown entertainment products. It is very clear to me that in the coming years, young Americans will be more and more influenced by interesting trends and styles and ideas coming at them from many different cultures: as a country becomes more economically viable, people have more leisure time, and young people start producing new interesting kinds of music, dance, film, animation, and new art forms emerge that reflect their culture. As they burst onto the scene, these forms will often have strong appeal to people in other cultures. Satellites, the internet, and other global technologies allow these new forms to be disseminated quickly to other countries where they can catch on and rapidly become a part of that culture as well. The way hip-hop can move from black neighborhoods to white neighborhoods today, that is how trends will move from one continent to another in the near future: we’re most of the way there already. In the near term, look for powerful cultural trends coming into America from Japan, China, and Brazil (Handler predicts!)

Viewers in most countries are used to watching dubbed films, and American viewers are also starting to get used to it. As dubs get better and better and foreign products get more and more attractive, it’s inevitable that importation and dubbing will expand.

SM:  Where are the dub companies located?

MH: Don’t know. I just work for the ones that call me up. If I had to track them down, I guess I’d go to anime websites, check the credits on anime video releases, and/or check the Hollywood Reporter annual animation issue. In the Southern California area, they tend to be in and around Burbank (where Disney and WB are located), and in the Hollywood and Santa Monica areas. Of course there are also dubbing companies in Canada where they pay even less than American companies do. Going north anyone?

SM: Do you have any final advice for people who want to get into writing scripts for dubbing animation?

Man, this is always the hardest question. I want to give good helpful encouraging advice but if I sounded very encouraging it would be a big fat lie. The truth is, it’s very hard to break into dub writing and if you do break in, it’s very hard to make a living at it. It doesn’t pay well as entertainment jobs go, and no benefits. Many ADR writers are also actors or directors: only by juggling 2 or 3 jobs do they make a passable living, and even then, it’s up and down — good years, bad years.

The problem with breaking in is, there just aren’t that many jobs and it’s so technical that most producers are very reluctant to try a new writer. It has nothing to do with the new writer’s talent.  He may be very talented – but it’s still going to take him a while to master all the technical aspects of adr writing and to get the hang of writing to a picture that’s already there.

A lot of people never get it; others try one script and swear they’ll  never write an ADR script again. They hate it. I’ve known several writers like that. A big issue is writing short or long. You have to be able to speak your lines out loud to the mouth movement in the picture and time the line accurately. It’s very typical for a new writer to write too long, i.e. all of his lines have too many words for the mouth-movement of the character — or too short, i.e. all of his lines have too few words for the mouth-movement of the character. In either case, the director ends up cursing the writer because he has to rewrite every line at the recording session. That means the sessions go long and the producers blame him, the director. And all of this ultimately costs money. This is why, when producers do try new writers, they often choose ADR actors. Typically, the actors have no training in story structure or writing, but they know how to speak lines to picture, so they can accurately time the lines. That’s what you’re up against.

Beyond that, your best chance of breaking in is by contacting a company when they are just starting a new series and they may need to fill out their writing staff. Be persistent in a nice way. It’s hard to find the line between friendly-persistent and obnoxiously pushy.  Try to find it.

If you get a shot at a job, it would be ideal if you could get an experienced ADR actor to help you go over your lines and determine if they are short or long or fit picture. Or ask the producer if you can turn in your first 5 or 6 pages and get early feedback so you can make adjustments at an early stage.

Also, get a high quality VCR with a jog wheel with very good single frame forward and back. It shouldn’t jump when you try to go one frame forward or back, and it should hold a steady picture when it’s on pause, no jiggling. This sounds like funny advice, but it is much more important than you would think.  If you’re very technically savvy, you may be able to skip the VCR and do it all on your computer, but you’d need to digitize the picture from the tape.

Also, take your first opportunity to sit in on any ADR recording sessions you can. When you see how the directors and actors work with an ADR  script, you get a much better idea of how to give them what they need, and you can personalize the script to the particular director and cast.

Of course the other way to do it, the best way, is the Spike Lee way: do your own project. Import your own OVA or whatever and write and produce it yourself. Then you have a finished product to show, not just a spec script. If it’s successful, people will be coming to you for jobs, not the other way around. In fact, now that I think about it, my official suggestion is: import a whole series. Then, when you need some more writers to complete the project, give me a call.

When I attended the Gathering of the Gargoyles 2001 convention, I got the chance to hear Crispin Freeman, who’s built a resume in dubbing animation brought to the United States from other countries. This is an art sometimes also referred to as ADR, or ‘automatic dialogue replacement'(though it can also apply to dubbing done to make last minute corrections to any animated project). Crispin’s known for being the English voice of ‘Zelgadis’ of  Slayers, and ‘Touga’ of Revolutionary Girl Utena, among others.  Crispin’s also been a script adapter for Pokemon. Here’s a couple questions I posed to him about animation dub acting…

SHANNON MUIR: What special challenges are there for actors dubbing foreign animation?

CRISPIN FREEMAN: Well, it depends on the show and the script.  The first is whether or not the script has been adapted to match the lip flap of the characters on screen.  If it has, then the actor’s job is simpler (not necessarily easier) since you don’t have to waste a lot of time trying to rewrite lines on the fly that don’t match.  If it has been adapted prior to recording, then it’s a matter of trying to make an authentic and honest read for the character you’re portraying in the rigid form handed to you, namely that your performance has to match the lip flap on the screen as opposed to animators matching your vocal performance.  The next level is to try to get across the original intention and subtlety of the original show, while still making it work to an audience of a completely different culture.  It definitely is tricky.

SM:  Briefly describe what a dubbing session is like.

CF: I go into the studio by myself and stand in front of a microphone with a TV in front of it.  The director and recording engineer are there and sometimes a producer.  Sometimes I’ve been able to read the script or watch the show ahead of time, but many times, I’m seeing both animation and script for the very first time when I get up to record.  I wear headphones, I have a music stand in front of me with the script and I look at the TV.  The animation appears on the TV with the Music and Effects from the show in my headphones. I get three beeps in my headphones as the time for my line comes up.  Where the fourth beep should be, I say my line and try to match the lip flap on the screen.  Usually, we have to go back and try the line again to adjust the read or the match to lip flap or even the script.  We usually go one line at a time until we finish an entire recording session.

SM:  Does a dubbing script look different than a typical animation script?

CF: Most of the dubbing scripts I get are merely straight Japanese Translations with timecode telling the director exactly where the line falls in the course of the show.  Those don’t look anything like the scripts that I get from other producers who are doing the voices first and the animation later. In those, they’re written more like a screenplay, except that every line a character says has a number so that they can keep track of everyone’s lines and in what order they go.

SM:  If an actor wants to go into dubbing, what do you feel he or she can do to prepare?

CF: Take class.  Find people who are teaching acting and voice acting.  Contact licensing companies in your area and find out how and when they hold auditions so you can try out.  Get to know people who are doing what you want to do.  Once you’re in class, you’ll meet all sorts of people in the business.  Pick their brains about how and what they do and how they got

there.  Keep smilin’ and have fun.

Crispin, thanks so much for taking the time to share insight into the world of animation dubbing.  For more information about Crispin Freeman, visit his official website.

(originally published 2001 at Suite101.com)