Making Our Barks Meaner Than Our Bites

or "Writing the Words That Make Worlds Feel Alive"

by David Gallaher

When I got the call to write for Ghost Recon: Wildlands, I wasn’t crafting sweeping monologues or weaving intricate plot twists—I was writing barks. Thousands of them. The kind of grunt work that makes you question every life choice. If Sisyphus were a game writer, he wouldn’t be pushing a boulder up a hill—he’d be hammering out variations of “We’re under fire!” until his keyboard wore thin.

Barks—those bite-sized bursts of NPC dialogue—are the invisible glue that binds a game’s world together. Screw them up, and the illusion shatters. Get them right, and they disappear seamlessly into the experience—until a player realizes they’re instinctively reacting to them. Ever caught yourself humming a shopkeeper’s chatter or quoting a guard’s warning? That’s the magic of a well-crafted bark.

The Unseen Heroes of Game Dialogue

For the uninitiated, a bark is a short, context-driven line triggered by player actions or in-game events. Think of the suspicious “Move along.” from a patrolling guard, the desperate “I need healing!” from a squadmate, or the legendary “I used to be an adventurer like you…” from Skyrim’s eternally injured sentries.

At first, I assumed writing barks would be a mindless exercise in rewording “They’re flanking us!” But the more I worked on them, the more I realized: barks are worldbuilding in its purest form. They don’t just relay information—they define the game’s tone, enrich its characters, and immerse players deeper into the experience. In many ways, they are the heartbeat of the world.

Barks Are a System, Not a Checklist

One of the biggest mistakes a new game writer can make is treating barks as a pile of one-liners dumped into a spreadsheet. Barks aren’t throwaway dialogue—they’re an intricate system. Every line needs to respond to a specific trigger: a player’s action, an environmental cue, or a gameplay shift.

When a player sneaks past a patrol, and a guard mutters, “Thought I heard something…”, it cranks up the tension. When they execute a brutal takedown, and an enemy stammers, “He’s too strong!”, it makes the moment land harder. These aren’t just random lines; they exist to amplify the player’s experience.

What Makes a Great Bark?

Writing barks isn’t about being witty—it’s about being effective. A great bark should:

1. Be Clear & Concise – Players aren’t leisurely reading your prose; they need to grasp the line in a heartbeat.

2. Fit the Character & World – A grizzled war veteran shouldn’t scream “You’re toast, buddy!” like a Saturday morning cartoon villain. A medieval knight shouldn’t yell “Frag out!” like a modern soldier.

3. Avoid Repetition – Nothing breaks immersion faster than hearing “We’re under attack!” for the 50th time. Variation is key.

4. Reinforce Gameplay Mechanics – A bark should be useful. If an enemy shouts, “He’s reloading!”, that’s valuable intel. If they scream, “It’s Tuesday!”… maybe rethink that one.

Beyond the Basics: Barks as Narrative Tools

Barks aren’t just filler—they’re subtle storytelling weapons. Want to hint at a faction’s sinister motives? Let their soldiers’ barks drip with menace. Want to humanize an enemy? Have them beg for mercy when they’re the last one standing.

Consider God of War (2018). When enemies taunt Kratos, their barks ooze arrogance. But when they start losing, their confidence crumbles into desperation. That’s not just combat chatter—it’s storytelling in action.

The Barks That Stick With Us

Some barks transcend their original purpose and become gaming legends. The nonsensical babbling of Rapture's citizens, the crisp “Job’s done!” of Warcraft, Skyrim’s relentless knee trauma—all of these lines have burrowed into our collective memory.

A good bark doesn’t just inform—it resonates. So the next time you’re tasked with writing a hundred different ways for a soldier to scream in pain, remember: someone, somewhere, is going to hear that line a hundred times over.

Make it count.