Bounded Long Form Storytelling in Games

I've had a bit of radio silence here for personal gaming reasons(I didn't want the situations that I'm dealing with in my ongoing games to appear here and I couldn't quite keep them out of my thoughts).  However, I'm returning with a bit of an examination of meta-narrative philosophies and my own approach to things.  I've recently been revisiting the work of two of my greatest influences, Chris Claremont and J. Michael Straczynski.  Looking at how these two different writers used methods of long form storytelling [one strictly bounded, one hurt by unboundedness] has helped me reflect on my own approach to writing games and my philosophy of stories.
First off, this is going to contain spoilers, admittedly, they are for a television series that went off the air when I was in college and a run of comics that I first picked up in middle school, but spoilers nonetheless.  Especially for Babylon 5.  If you haven't watched it, go do so.  I'll wait.  No.  Go back, the first season is a little light and the special effects budget for the entire season was less than one episode of NextGen, go finish the series.  Great, I'll continue.

Long Form Story
Reflecting on these naratives, I see exactly where I get a lot of my preferences for stories.  My love of ensemble casts, my enjoyment of material being teased before being introduced, my occasional love of overblown monologues.  But I especially see my own love for serial storytelling.  The reason that I love ongoing games and ongoing media is that there are certain types of stories that tell much better in that form.  If you look at the development of a character like Storm, from naive 'goddess' to team conscience to team leader to hard edged pragmatist to hero struggling to retain identity without powers to ultimate redemption/restoration, you can't fit that into a non-serialized story.  It's impossible to tell that story without time passing and single episode stories are generally very bad at portraying the passage of time.  The same is true for nearly every character in Babylon 5.  The character arc of G'Kar from sleazy warmonger to reluctant prophet, the journey of Franklin through his addiction and recovery, the change between Lennier's humble beginnings and tragic ending.  All of these can only occur in a story that includes time.
In long form storytelling, there is a chance to stretch out, to allow character aspects to mature, to age, to settle before being shaken up again.  That freedom to stretch out and develop characters means that as you get to the climax of the story, the characters are more fully realized and thus the stakes of the narrative are much higher.

Bounded vs. Unbounded
However, not all Long Form Storytelling is quite the same.  One of the aspects of my re-read of Marvel's back catalog has reminded me of are the perils of unbounded long form storytelling.  So, when I call a story bounded, I mean that it has a pre-defined beginning middle and end.  There is a sense of when the story starts being told and when it stops.  In non-serial storytelling, this is generally fairly simple.  The movie goes for 2 hours and then is done, maybe with room for a sequel.  In the case of most Long Form Storytelling, there is no expected end.  This is the soap opera model, the idea that so long as the good will of the network exists, that there should never be an end.  As Gordie says in Stand by Me "Wagon Train's a really cool show, but did you notice they never get anywhere? They just keep wagon training."
This sort of unbounded storytelling, where there is no defined end point to the story almost always breaks down at some point.  It's so common and well known that there is a quick cultural shorthand for it, jumping the shark.  Marvel and D.C. comics are among the worst for this, with characters first introduced in the 1960's still bumming around as if they haven't aged more than a decade.  And every story decision has been undone by the needs of later stories.  Right now, I have to do extensive research to figure out if there are any of the X-men who haven't died and been reborn(I count four out of the thirteen X-Men from the end of Giant-Size X-Men #1's "What are we going to do with thirteen X Men?").  This sort of backtracking is more or less required for unbounded storytelling, because what made sense 3 years ago may not fit with the needs of the present.
Instead, I prefer my stories Bounded.  Part of this comes from my experience in improv theater.  One of the biggest rules we followed in improv was that every scene should have a beginning, middle and end.  By sticking with a Bounded story, one can easily plan towards an end rather than plan for forever.

Retaining Interactivity and Momentum
However, planning a long form game provides some of its own issues.  First, how do you plan a game, where one of the major attractions is interactivity, to have a bounded story?  Second, how do you maintain momentum in a game with a bounded story, not allowing things to happen too slowly or too quickly?  Third, how do you write a story compelling enough to attract Neil Gaiman(Day of the Dead) or Joss Whedon(Astonishing X-Men) to write an episode/run for you?
Well, as to the first, one of the philosophies I tend to write around is "not if, but how".  In games I run, there are events that will happen, elements of change to the status quo that are in motion regardless of how the players act.  The key to writing such stories is to make sure that the players are in a position where their actions influence how the status quo changes.  At the same time, never make a story element completely contingent, as in, if nobody ever tells you they investigate, then nobody influences anything.  Sometimes, this requires literally handing decisions to individuals or groups. Sometimes, it's just about reminding players of the stakes and giving them the necessary information.
As to the second, "The avalanche has already started, it is too late for the pebbles to vote."  Events need to be in motion, but not so quickly that they overtake everything.  Part of this is looking at the arc as a whole.  I use a spreadsheet that has the entire arc written out, every game from beginning to end.  That spreadsheet helps me set the pace and know that I have time remaining and can keep on a pace to finish.  It helps me know when I have time to stretch things out, and when I have to push things forward.  It also allows me to plan when to introduce elements that add to the momentum or create new wrinkles.  However, remember to draw maps but leave gaps.  The spreadsheet should be more or less complete for the session that is coming up next, partially filled in for the next handful, and then more broadly outlined for those beyond.  Allow for the ways that changes will change plans. I will write more about this when I write about memorable antagonists, but villains should make plans of action, not simply have things happen regardless of surrounding events.  Knowing how an antagonist adapts is part of writing a good bounded story/
As to the third, I'm still trying.

The Beginning in the End, the End in the Beginning
The central philosophy of a Bounded Long Form Story is simple.  In retrospect, you should be able to see the End in the Beginning and the Beginning in the End.  There should be elements of what happens right at the outset that set the course for how things proceed and conclude.  And there should be elements of how things conclude that connect back to the beginning of the story.  And in the end, you should be able to point to the places along the way that things were different because the player characters were present.
I return again to Babylon 5.  Londo's entire character arc, from decadent political outcast to secretive warmonger to corrupted emperor is entirely driven by the presence of his nephew on Ragesh III, invaded by the Narns in the first episode of the first season.  His fall from grace all stemmed from that one simple thing.
Stories that fit together and have a clear sense of direction can achieve the best of what serial storytelling has to offer.