I remember working on a MASSIVE game project early in my career. (If I told you the title, you’d recognize it instantly.) The game was six months from shipping, the story was more or less in place, and the producer brought me on to finalize the cinematic scripts.

This was, in a lot of ways, my big break, and I didn’t want to screw it up. (I also felt totally lost on the project - but I hoped I could fake it well enough to get through.) I sweat blood over the scripts, really doing my best to give the project and the team what (I hoped) they were looking for.

I remember being an absolute wreck when I sent my scripts over. I wanted them to like what I did, and I wasn’t very skillful at handling constructive criticism. So I braced myself. And the response I got was always “Great! Thanks!”

I was so relieved. My stuff must be pretty good! Yippee!

(But of course, what it really meant was that everyone was too busy to look at my work—and they didn't think it was all that important, anyway.)

I was so thrilled to have avoided any awkward feedback meetings. But I got feedback all right…on the gaming forums. Which was about as gentle and thoughtful as you might imagine. And the worst parts were:

• Some of their criticisms were dead right, and
• The game had shipped; there was nothing I could do to make things better

Looking back, I wish I had heard the feedback I needed when I needed it - BEFORE the game shipped.

That taught me a painful but essential lesson: get feedback when there's still time to use it.

The good/bad news is that my experience on that project was unusual. These days, writers often receive a lot of feedback from the rest of the studio - and that's great, but it can also make life complicated.

If you're an aspiring game writer, you might be terrified of feedback. If you're early in your career, you might not know how to interpret the feedback you're getting. And if you're coming from another field, you might be shocked by how different the feedback culture is in game development.

Here's what I wish someone had told me: the ability to hear feedback, deal with it, and use it to make your work better isn't just a nice-to-have skill. It's the difference between writers who move ahead in their careers and writers who stay stuck.

Why "I Take Feedback Well" Matters So Much to Game Studios

Game writing isn't like novel writing or screenwriting, where you can polish your work in private before anyone sees it. In game development, your (rough draft!) writing gets reviewed constantly—by leads, designers, programmers, artists, and producers. Each person has different priorities, different ways of communicating, and different relationships to the story.

[Related: What Studios Mean When They Say "Experience Required"]

If you're getting ready to start your game-writing career, you're focused on improving your writing chops: character development, dialogue, and branching narratives. And YES, those things matter. But studios assume you already know how to handle feedback like a pro. When you can't, it creates problems that go way beyond your writing talent.

If you're early in your game-dev career, you might get feedback that feels confusing or contradictory. "Make this character more likable," from the narrative lead. "This dialogue is slowing down the pacing," from the designer. "Can we cut this conversation for scope?" from the producer. Huh? What? Whose feedback matters most? What do you do with this information? But you’ve got to figure it out; your ability to navigate these competing perspectives is crucial for your growth.

And if you're coming over to games from another creative field, you might be surprised by how much feedback you get - and how blunt it is. The collaborative, iterative nature of game development means constant input from people who aren't writers but whose opinions absolutely matter to the final product. Not because they understand writing - most of them don’t, they’re not professional writers - but your work directly affects their work, and vice versa, so their point of view HAS to be taken into account.

So: how do we prepare ourselves for a cascade of imperfect, conflicting, confusing feedback?

For this article, I’m leaning heavily on the book Thanks for the Feedback: The Science and Art of Receiving Feedback Well (Even When It Is Off Base, Unfair, Poorly Delivered, and, Frankly, You’re Not In The Mood. How’s that for a title? (If you get to the end of this article and want to go even deeper, I highly recommend picking up a copy.)

In the book, authors Douglas Stone and Sheila Heen write,

The Three Types of Feedback (And Why Most Game Devs Only Give The Worst Kind)

In their book, the writers identify three distinct types of feedback. Understanding which kind of feedback you're receiving at any given moment will help you navigate the weird, sometimes-abrasive feedback culture of game development.

Appreciation: "That Character Voice Really Worked"

This is recognition and encouragement. It tells you what's working and motivates you to keep going. This is the feedback every writer wants. But in game development, appreciation is rare. Everyone's focused on what needs to be fixed, and there's usually no time to celebrate what's working. (I used to think that if nobody said anything positive, it meant everything sucked - and so I would rewrite everything from scratch. Don’t do that! Odds are a lot of what you have created IS working. If you know you need to hear what’s working, ask them to tell you.)

Example: "The dialogue you wrote for that shopkeeper was a lot of fun - I think he's my favorite character now."

Coaching: "Here's How to Make This Better"

This is guidance for improvement—someone teaching you how to become a better writer. Here's the reality: you'll only get coaching feedback if you have a narrative lead who has time to mentor you. Many studios don't have dedicated narrative leads, and even when they do, they're often too swamped with their own work to provide detailed coaching. But when you can find it, it’s a great thing to have!

Example: "This conversation needs to give players clearer direction about their next objective—try ending with a crystal-clear next step, don't do any character work here; make the message loud and clear."

Evaluation: "Here's Where Your Work Stands"

This tells you how your work measures up, but here's what's different about games: most feedback you'll receive is evaluation, and it's tied to constantly evolving project decisions, not performance reviews.

A designer evaluates your dialogue against their level's pacing needs. An artist evaluates your character descriptions against what they have time to create. A programmer evaluates your branching narrative against engine constraints. A producer evaluates everything against scope and budget.

Most feedback you'll get as a game writer falls into this category.

Example: "This conversation is too long for our memory constraints" or "This character motivation doesn't match what we can show with our animation system."

This kind of feedback is typically based on the other person's area of expertise, rather than writing quality. They're not saying your writing is bad—they probably haven't thought about that one way or another—they're saying it doesn't work now, for this project, for reasons. Learning to hear that distinction is crucial. It will save you from taking it personally! It’s not you, it’s them (or more specifically, it's the project).

[Related: What No One Tells Writers About Working With Designers (Until It's Too Late)]

The Three Ways Feedback Can Set Us Off (And What To Do About It)

Why are so many of us resistant to feedback? Why does it upset and aggravate us so much? We want to do good work, after all. So why don’t we say "Hooray!" when feedback comes our way?

For a lot of us, it's because feedback is triggering.

The authors of Thanks for the Feedback describe three psychological triggers that make us resistant to feedback. In games, these have the power to do more than just hurt your feelings—they can set your career back. 😬

Truth Triggers: "This Feedback Is Wrong"

What it sounds like in your head: "The designer wants me to cut my favorite dialogue sequence, but they don't understand that it's essential for character development."

What's really happening: You're rejecting feedback because you believe it's incorrect.

We often see this with career changers who might think, "I've written three novels—this junior designer doesn't understand good dialogue." But in game development, that designer isn't evaluating your dialogue as literature. They're thinking about how it affects the player experience, pacing, and technical implementation. They do know what they’re talking about - they may just be expressing their feedback poorly, focusing on your writing instead of their needs.

The professional response: Instead of dismissing the feedback, get curious. Ask: "What specific pacing issues are you seeing? Help me understand how players might experience this section differently than I intended."

This shift from "you're wrong" to "tell me more" separates professional writers from amateurs. 😎

Relationship Triggers: "Who Are You to Give Me This Feedback?"

What it sounds like: A programmer gives you notes about character motivation, and your first thought is, "You're not a writer. What do you know about storytelling?"

What's really happening: You're responding to who's giving the feedback rather than what the feedback helps you understand about the overall player experience.

Everyone on the team is a proxy for different aspects of the player experience. That programmer might not know narrative theory, but they do know how your dialogue affects the technical implementation. That artist might not understand story structure, but they do know when character descriptions are too vague to be useful.

The professional response: Remember that valuable insights can come from anybody on the team. ANYBODY. Ask yourself what this person's point of view might be telling you. How is this person speaking for the player?

Identity Triggers: "This Feedback Threatens Who I Am"

What it sounds like: Your lead says your writing feels "too literary" and needs to be "more accessible." If your identity is built around being a sophisticated writer, this feels like an attack on the core of who you are.

What's really happening: The feedback challenges your sense of your own worth, triggering a defensive response that gets in the way of communicating anything useful.

This is particularly tough for aspiring writers who may have tied their identity to being "good at writing" or career changers who are (rightfully) proud of their previous writing success.

The professional response: Separate your identity from your role. You can be a sophisticated writer AND someone who adapts their style for interactive media. The feedback isn't asking you to become less skilled—it's asking you to expand your range.

In my game writing masterclass, I tell the story about the blind men who came across an elephant, which none of them had ever encountered before.

The first man reached out and felt the elephant's side. "Aha! An elephant is like a wall," he announced. The second man grabbed the trunk. “What are you talking about? An elephant is clearly like a snake." The third man wrapped his arms around a leg and said, “You two are idiots. An elephant is obviously like a tree trunk.”

And so it went - “It’s like a rope!” “It’s like a spear!”

Each man was right - and each man was wrong. They had a piece of the truth, but that’s all they had.

And that’s game development for you. Our perspective, however accurate, is often incomplete. Our fellow game devs know things we don’t - and vice versa.

Build Your "How To Deal With Feedback" Toolkit

So feedback can be painful - but it doesn't have to be. Here's how to turn Ugh into Thanks.

Understand What You're Really Being Asked To Do

Game developers often use vague language in their feedback, and that can be confusing. When someone says "make this character more relatable," they might mean:

• Players aren't connecting emotionally (coaching feedback)
• The character doesn't fit our target audience (evaluation feedback)
• We like the general direction (appreciation feedback)

Dig deeper. Ask: "What specifically makes the character feel unrelatable? What would 'more relatable' look like in practice? Are there examples of characters that have what you're looking for?"

Separate Yourself from Your Work

This is hardest for up-and-coming writers and career changers who may have spent years working independently, writing novels or screenplays. In game development, your work is going to change—sometimes dramatically—based on technical constraints, scope changes, and player feedback - things that have nothing to do with you.

When someone critiques your dialogue, they're not critiquing you as a person or even your writing. They're saying “there’s a clash between your work and the larger goals of the project” - and most often, the larger project wins (because it involves the work of So Many People.)

Ask for the Type of Feedback You Know You Need

If you've been getting feedback that feels unhelpful, you might be getting the wrong type. Try being explicit about what you need:

• Do you need some guidance from your narrative lead? Try "I'm still developing this character's voice—could you give me coaching on how to make their personality clearer?"
• Do you want to hear the brutal truth sooner, rather than later? Try "Before I spend more time on this, could you evaluate whether I'm heading in the right direction?"
• Do you need to know if anything you’re doing is working? Try "I've been revising this dialogue for weeks—could you tell me what's working well before we dive into changes?"

Recognize Your Patterns

Most of us have default reactions to feedback. Maybe you immediately get defensive (relationship trigger), or you start explaining why the feedback is wrong (truth trigger), or you spiral into "I'm terrible at this" (identity trigger). If any of this sounds like you, congrats: you’ve got plenty of company.

Early-career writers often freeze up and say "okay" to everything without really understanding what's being asked. Career changers might push back based on what worked in their previous field. Aspiring writers might take feedback as proof they're not cut out for the industry.

Those are just reactions. They’re natural - and they're in your control. Once you see your patterns, you can manage them.

[Related: Game Writing Is Only Partially About Writing]

How This Could Transform Your Career

The writers who thrive professionally aren't necessarily the most naturally talented. They're the ones who can work with feedback, because that makes them good team players.

Studios need writers who can:

• Take direction from multiple stakeholders without getting overwhelmed
• Rewrite material quickly based on changing requirements
• Collaborate with team members who have very different perspectives on narrative
• Stay creative and motivated even when their work changes significantly

These are all feedback skills, not writing skills.

When you handle feedback professionally, here’s what happens:

You become easier to work with. Leads start giving you more complex assignments because they trust you to handle input constructively.

You learn faster. Instead of defending your choices, you're digging for information about what works and what doesn't in this specific context.

You build better relationships. Team members feel comfortable giving you honest feedback because they know you won’t flip a table.

You develop better judgment. Understanding how different people experience your work helps you make stronger choices in future projects.

I've seen talented writers stay stuck in junior roles because they couldn't handle feedback gracefully. I've also seen less experienced writers advance quickly because they were sponges for input and improvement.

One last quote from the book:

What This Means for You

Developing the ability to handle feedback well is, hands down, one of the smartest moves you can make for your game writing career.

Are you an aspiring game writer? Don't wait until you're in a studio to start practicing. Join writing groups, throw yourself into game jams, and share your work anywhere you can find people who'll give you honest input. The more perspectives you get, the stronger you'll become.

Are you a working game writer? Start paying close attention to the feedback you're getting and who it's coming from. This is when you want to get really good at asking follow-up questions and—this one's tough but crucial—learning to separate your ego from your work. (It gets easier with practice.)

Are you a career-changer? Recognize that feedback culture in games might be different from what you're used to. The volume, directness, and sources of feedback can be startling, but it's not personal—it's just the process.

The game industry is tighter than ever right now, which means the writers who get hired and keep moving up are the ones who show up with professional skills, not just creative ones.

Want to see where you stand?

I put together a quiz that helps writers see what skills they already have, and where they have room to grow. It takes about 5 minutes and gives you specific guidance based on exactly where you are and where you want to go.

Whether you're just starting out or you’re looking to grow your career, getting good at handling feedback isn't optional—it's essential. Games are a team sport, and the writers who succeed are the ones who've figured out how to work with all that input instead of fighting against it.

It’s a skill, which means it’s completely learnable. You don't need to be naturally thick-skinned or born collaborative. Nobody expects you to be a rhinoceros. You just need to understand what's happening - for them, and for you - and develop some practical strategies for managing your reactions.

Your writing career isn't just about creating great scripts or developing incredible characters—though those skills matter, too. It's about how well you can work with a whole team of people to get the game out the door.

Master that skill, and you'll see opportunities opening up that you didn't even know existed. 💖

Susan O'Connor is an award-winning game writer with credits on BioShock, Far Cry, and Tomb Raider. Her projects have sold over 30 million copies and generated more than $500 million in sales. She founded The Narrative Department to help writers learn the ins and outs of writing for games - skills that everyone assumes you somehow already know.