What story has changed how you see the world? What structural choice made it land — was it a twist (diamond), a slow reveal (gauntlet), a sense of freedom (hub-and-spoke), or something else?

When you imagine your ideal reader playing your story, what do you want them to feel at the end? Not think — feel.

What topic do you know about that most people don't? That's your unfair advantage as a writer. How could interactive fiction explore it in a way a linear story can't?

What makes your voice different from an AI's voice? When you read AI-generated text, what's missing? That missing thing is what you bring.

Forced rank — no ties allowed. Put these in order from most to least important to you right now, not what you think the "right" answer is: freedom, safety, belonging, truth, justice, beauty, growth, rest. Now look at your top two. That's what your story is actually about — whether you planned it or not. Does that surprise you?

Think of a time you changed your mind about something important. Not a preference — a belief. What happened? What information or experience made the old belief impossible to hold? Now: could an interactive story create that same shift for someone else? What would the choice architecture look like?

The uncomfortable trade-off. Your story can only do one of these — which do you choose?
(a) Make the reader feel deeply understood
(b) Show the reader something they've never considered
(c) Give the reader a new way to talk about something they already feel
What does your choice reveal about why you want to write?

What's something you believe that most people in this room probably don't? Not controversial for the sake of it — something you've lived that gave you a perspective others haven't earned yet. That belief is creative fuel. What would it look like as an interactive story where the reader discovers it through experience rather than being told?

The mirror question. When you read the list of story shapes — diamond, gauntlet, hub-and-spoke, QBN, time cave — which one did you instinctively think was "the best one"? That instinct isn't about craft. It's about how you see the world. A person who loves diamonds believes in convergence. A person who loves time caves believes consequences are real and permanent. A person who loves hub-and-spoke believes in autonomy. What does your preference say about you?

Write down three things you would never put in a story. Now sit with that list for a moment. Is each item on there because it would genuinely harm someone, or because you're afraid of being judged? There's a difference. You don't have to share your answer. But know the difference.

Think of a real choice you made recently. Was it a diamond (pick one, all paths converge), a foldback (you ended up in the same place regardless), or a time cave (genuinely irreversible)? Now the harder question: did you know which shape it was before you chose, or only after? How often do we know the shape of a choice while we're inside it?

When is the illusion of choice valuable in a story? When is it harmful? Now think bigger: where do you encounter the illusion of choice in real life — systems that present themselves as hub-and-spoke but are actually gauntlets? What would it mean to design a story that makes that visible?

Who gets to make choices in your story — and who doesn't? The characters you give agency to reveal what you believe about power. But go deeper: who in your own life doesn't get enough choices? Could your story let a reader experience what that feels like from the inside — not as a lesson, but as a lived experience?

Interactive fiction lets the reader practice making decisions in a safe space. What decision would you want someone to practice making? Why that one? Who specifically needs that practice — and what would change in the world if they got it?

A gauntlet says "you can't avoid consequences, only choose which ones." A hub-and-spoke says "you choose what matters to you." A QBN says "who you've become determines what you see." A time cave says "every choice is permanent and irreversible." Which philosophy matches how you actually experience your life right now — not which one you wish were true?

Think about a system you interact with daily (school, work, social media, healthcare, housing). What story shape does it most resemble? Now the real question: who designed it that way, and who benefits from that shape? If you redesigned it as a different shape, who would gain power and who would lose it?

The loop-and-grow pattern says "you return to the same place but you're different each time." Where in your life do you experience that? What changes between loops — is it you, or the place, or both? What would break the loop? Should it be broken?

The algorithm question. Social media feeds are QBN systems — your accumulated behavior (state) determines what content (storylets) you see next. You're living inside a quality-based narrative you didn't author. If you could see the "source code" of the QBN that feeds you content, what would the LIST values be? What state are you accumulating? What would you change?

Most interactive fiction is about individual choices. But the most important choices in real life are collective — we decide together, we act together, we live with consequences together. How would you design a story where the "player character" is a community, not a person? What would a "choice" even mean?

The 3-sentence future. Describe the future you want to live in — not a utopia, but a realistic, specific, livable future. Three sentences. Now: what's the first choice point on the path from here to there? Not a grand political choice — a choice someone could make this week. That's the opening of your story.

Interactive fiction almost always presents scarcity — limited resources, binary choices, zero-sum conflicts. That's a design choice, not a law of nature. What would a story structure built around abundance look like? Where choices create more choices instead of closing them off? Where helping another character unlocks paths for you too? Sketch the shape.

Who in your community has a story that needs an interactive format — where the reader needs to walk in their shoes and make their choices? Not "someone should tell their story" — could you build that story with them? What would it take to ask? What's stopping you from asking?

The hard one. Solarpunk says "another world is possible." Do you actually believe that? Not as a slogan — in your gut, when you look at the real world, do you believe it's possible to build something better? If yes, what makes you believe it? If no, or if you're unsure — what would it take to convince you? What evidence would you need? Could you write a story that creates that evidence for your reader?

Look back at your answers. What surprised you? What pattern do you see? Somewhere in what you've written is the seed of a story that only you can tell. What is it?

Describe your next interactive fiction project in one sentence. Now describe its shape (diamond? hub-and-spoke? something composed?). Does the shape match the feeling you want? If not, what shape would?

What's the smallest version of that story you could build in 30 minutes? One shape, 3-5 knots, one tracked variable. Write the Ink skeleton — just knot names and diverts, no prose yet.

What part of this story could an AI help you generate? What part must come from you alone? Be specific — not "the emotional parts" but which exact knots, which variables, which choices are yours to make?

Who do you want to play your story? Be specific — not "everyone" but one real person, or one real kind of person. What do you want them to carry with them after the last choice? Write them a one-sentence dedication.