Wrapping text by code

Very many games require displaying significant amounts of text on the screen. Whether dialogue, signs, backstory “data log” entries, or lists of quests and objectives, text is absolutely a necessity. And we’re not talking about just a word here and there. No, this is serious text, entire sentences at least. More specifically, I want to look at the long strings of text that are commonly shown in dialog boxes or other GUI/HUD elements, not something that might be baked into a texture.

With single words, it’s not hard at all: you just throw the word on the screen at the right position. What game engine doesn’t let you do that? Even my failed attempt at a simple 2D engine a few years ago could manage that much!

It’s when you need to display longer snippets that things get hairy. Your screen is only so wide, so, like any word processor, you have to know when to wrap the text. Now, many engines do this for you, but you may not be using one of those, or you may be writing your own. So this post is designed to give you an idea of what lies ahead, and to provide a starting point for your own efforts.

Ground rules

First, let’s get this out of the way: I’m using a bit of pseudocode here. Actually, it’s JavaScript, but with a lot of references left undefined. Hopefully, you can convert that into your language and platform of choice.

Next, I’m going to assume you’re working in English or another language that uses an alphabetic script. Something like Chinese or Japanese will have its own rules regarding how long text is broken up, and I don’t entirely understand all of those. The same goes for Arabic and other RTL scripts, but they’re much closer to American and European usage, so some of the concepts described here might carry over.

We’ll also ignore hyphenation in this post. It’s a hideously complex topic, first of all, and nobody can quite agree on which words should (or even can) be hyphenated at the end of a line. Besides, what was the last game you saw that used printed-style hyphenation? In the same vein, we’ll be ignoring non-breaking spaces, dashes, and the like.

The last assumption I’m going to make is that we’re working with Unicode strings. That shouldn’t matter too much, though. We won’t be delving into individual bytes—if you do that with Unicode, you’ve gone wrong somewhere, or you’re at a far lower level this post.

Words

On the screen, our string will be divided into lines. Thus, our job is clear: take a string of text, divide it into lines so that no line is longer than the width of our dialog box. Simple, right? So let’s see how we can go about that.

English text is divided first into sentences. These sentences are then divided into words, sometimes with added punctuation. Each word is separated from its neighbors by blank space. It’s that space that lets us wrap our text.

For a first approximation, let’s take the example of fixed-width text. This was common in older games, and it’s still used for a retro feel. (And programmers demand it for editing code.) It’s “fixed” width because each letter, each bit of punctuation, and each space will have the same width. That width can be different from one font to another, but every character in a fixed-width string, even the blank ones, will be as wide as any other.

As we won’t be worrying about hyphenation, every line will have a whole number of words. Thus, our first task is to get those words out of our string:

// Split a string of text into a list of words
function splitWords(str) {
    return str.split(' ');
}

Basically, we’ve split our string up into words, and removed the spaces in the process. Don’t worry about that. We’ll put them back in a moment. First, we need to go on a little digression.

Building with boxes

Do you remember magnetic poetry? Those little kits you could buy at the bookstore (back when bookstores were a thing)? They came with a set of pre-printed words and a bunch of magnetic holders. Some of them even let you cut your own magnets, then slide the bits of laminated paper containing words into them. However you did it, you could then assemble the words into a short, tweet-level string that you could stick to your fridge. Longer words required longer magnets, while something like “a” or “I” took up almost no space at all. If you used one of the magnetic poetry kits that came with a little board, you had to do a bit of shuffling—and maybe some editing—to get the words to fit on a line.

That’s what we’re doing here. We’re taking the words of our text, and we’re assembling them on the screen in exactly the same way. Like the board, the screen is only so wide, so it can accommodate only so much. Any more, and we have to move to the next line. So wrapping text can be thought of like this. (It’s also the beginnings of computerized typesetting. We’re not really doing anything different from TeX; it just does the job a whole lot better.)

So we need to pack our words onto lines of no more than a given width. One way to do that is incrementally, by adding words (and spaces between them) until we run out of space, then moving on to the next line.

// Build lines of fixed-width text from a string
function buildTextLines(str, screenWidth, fontWidth) {
    let allWords = splitWords(str);
    let lines = [];

    let currentLine = "";
    let currentLineWidth = 0;
    let currentWord = "";

    while (allWords.length > 0) {
        currentWord = allWords.shift();

        let currentWordWidth = currentWord.length * fontWidth;

        if (currentLineWidth + currentWordWidth > screenWidth) {
            // Too long; wrap text here
            // Save the line we just finished, and start a new one
            lines.push(currentLine);
            currentLine = "";
            currentLineWidth = 0;
        }

        currentLine += currentWord;
        currentLineWidth += currentWord.length * fontWidth

        // Try to insert a space, unless we're at the edge of the box
        // (width of space is the same as anything else)
        if (!(currentLineWidth + fontWidth > screenWidth)) {
            currentLine += " ";
            currentLineWidth += fontWidth;
        }
    }

    return lines;
}

For fixed width, that’s really all you have to do. You can still treat the text as a sequence of characters that you’re transforming into lines full of space-delimited words. As a bonus, punctuation carries over effortlessly.

Varying the width

The real fun begins when you add in variable width. In printed text, an “m” is bigger than an “n”, which is wider than an “i”. Spaces tend to be fairly narrow, but they can also stretch. That’s how justified text works: extra bits of space are added here and there, where you likely wouldn’t even notice them, so that the far ends of the lines don’t look “ragged”. (That, by the way, is a technical term.) Two words might have an extra pixel or two of space, just to round out the line.

Doing that with simple strings is impossible, because I don’t know of any programming language having a basic string type that accounts for proportional fonts. (Well, TeX does, because that’s its job. That’s beside the point.) So we have to leave the world of strings and move onward. To display variable-width text, we have to start looking at baking it into screen images.

Since every engine and renderer is different, it’s a lot harder to give a code example for this one. Instead, I’ll lay out the steps you’ll need to take to make this “box” model work. (Note that this phrase wasn’t chosen by accident. HTML layout using CSS, as in a browser, uses a similar box-based display technique.)

  1. Using whatever capabilities for font metrics you have, find the minimum width of a space. This will probably be the width of the space character (0x20).

  2. Using this as a guide, break the text into lines—again based on the font metrics—but keep the words for each line in a list. Don’t combine them into a string just yet. Or at all, for that matter.

  3. For each line, calculate how much “stretch” space you’ll need to fill out the width. This will be the extra space left over after adding each word and the minimum-width spaces between them.

  4. Divide the stretch space equally among the inter-word spaces. This is aesthetically pleasing, and it ensures that you’ll have fully justified text.

  5. Render each word into the sprite or object you’re using as a container, putting these stretched spaces between them. You can do this a line at a time or all at once, but the first option may work better for text that can be scrolled.

In effect, this is a programmatic version of the “magnetic poetry” concept, and it’s not too much different from how browsers and typesetting engines actually work. Of course, they are much more sophisticated. So are many game engines. Those designed and intended for displaying text will have much of this work done for you. If you like reading code, dive into something like RenPy.

I hope this brief look whets your appetite. Text-based or text-heavy games require a bit more work for both the developer and the player, but they can be rewarding on a level a fully voiced game could never reach. They are, in a sense, like reading a story, but with a bit of extra visual aid. And games are primarily a visual medium.

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