7.2.07

Superanalytic Psychobabble GOOD!

(Those of you who haven't been here in a while might be amazed to learn that I blogged on Monday as well.)

Wow. I must say, I just started out my day with a PIKCHOW!! and a ZAMMIE!!! I plowed all the way through this here article, which is attempting to
"...illuminate the overlap survival horror games shared with psychoanalytic theorists."
No, no, I'm serious, that's totally what it's about. Check this out:
"The Resident Evil series conservatively positions a player as a defender of Lacanian 'symbolic order,' the psychological force constituting subjectivity [...] On the other hand, Silent Hill subverts our anticipation to occupy this position. If Resident Evil comfortably positions us as analyst, then Silent Hill mischievously collapses the distinction between analyst and analysand-undermining with it the surrounding symbolic order upon which such distinctions rely."
I don't know if I'm just getting more pretentious in my old age or what, but this kind of shit turns me on. I read that paragraph and I experience lust.

They're absolutely right, of course. I mean, the part about save points is (as they freely admit) a little goofy... but not necessarily wrong. And the central analysis of the position of the player in relationship to the psychological structure of the story is... just...

Well, you'll have to judge for yourself. But be careful. How you respond will reveal to the world how you see yourself.

O.O
( ^-- That's me, watching your reaction.)

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5.2.07

I Can At Last Start To Speak

So, it's not over, not by a long shot. But, last night, as Mr. Sandman was hurling grains of beach detritus into my eyesockets in an attempt to bludgeon me to sleep (I had had too much coffee, you see), I realized that there are a couple of things I can begin to talk to you guys about.

This is a great relief to me. I've missed you. Yeah, I know, shut up, I'm not gonna go on and on about it and I ain't gonna cry, neither, so you can just forget about that. Don't get all mushy on me.

Let's see. I think I'll start here.

Before I go into detail on who the fuck is that?!??, I want to talk for a moment about a strange quirk that has colored my past few months.

It is this: we lost our Art Director in September. Under what can only be described as (indeed, one should go so far as to say must be described as) "sketchy" circumstances, my team of prototyping ninjas quite suddenly found themselves sans-visual leader. Fine, fine, no problem, I said, someone else will emerge from the team, some young, ambitious upstart will... someone... at some point, see, there's gonna be... anyone? Bueller?

It was with the greatest amount of irony that, without any candidates to draw upon who understood the game I was trying to describe, I discovered that I had been surreptitiously volunteered for the job. Now, those of you who know me know that I have no art background, beyond my own personal investigations. I have nary laid pen to paper. Lo.

Didn't matter. Team needed a lead, and I was the man for the job.

Fast forward: six weeks later, I had learned more about what an art team does, needs, and wants from their art director than I had accumulated in the previous decade. I forced myself to learn the trade... since, for the time being at least, there were several talented professional friends of mine who needed leadin'.

It was a blast.

(We finally got the right guy for the role, someone who is so staggeringly talented and experienced at it that I, gratefully, pretty much evaporated into the dark night. "Good luck! Have fun with the art! *poof*")

These six weeks, though... they did something to my head. The picture you see above is one side-effect of the process.

It is the Darklord, you see. He's a little preview of what I'm working on for this site. I assembled him in Photoshop, out of various bits and pieces. I am 100% confident that some of you recognize some of his bits, but I gotta say... as a first-ever piece of digital Photoshop art, I'm pretty damned satisfied with the results. I like him. Let me know what you think.

Unless you don't like him. In that case, fuck off.

(as my darling daughter would say, "j/k! hee hee!")

I'm working on an alternate version of this blog site. I'll keep blogging here until I get all the wrinkles worked out, but I'll hopefully have stuff up for your review and approval. Or, at the very least, I'll have something for you all to mock and point fingers at. Either way, let's assume that it's going to take for-fucking-ever, like every other personal web project I've ever seen.

It'll ship when it's done, ladies and gentlemen.

I have other stuff to talk about, but I'll blog about it later. Don't want to spent all my blogging capital at once!

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23.6.06

A Word From Audio_Guy

The following is a chat log that rolled across the darklord's chat system earlier today. I felt it was poignant.

audio_guy: dear level designers and producer type people - a few words about audio...
darklord: :)
audio_guy: audio is not like color, if everything on the screen is green, then the screen looks green, however, if everything in audio is turned up as loud as possible, it will sound like crap...
darklord: :) this is true. :)
audio_guy: the phrase "Everything Louder than Everything Else" works well for the heavy metal band Motorhead, but for videogames it is perhaps the wrong mantra
audio_guy: I'd like to introduce a friend of mine: Dynamics
darklord: hello, Dynamics!
audio_guy: Dynamics is the process by which some things are quiet while others are loud, allow him to demonstrate...
audio_guy: take our main critter for example: he has an attack scream, and he has footsteps, the attack scream is big and loud, it is SCARY! the footsteps are quieter they are just there to pierce the silence when he walks
darklord: hmm. yes, this makes sense.
audio_guy: I am sorry that you cannot hear the footsteps when he is doing his attack scream
audio_guy: some things however are necessary
audio_guy: the options are as follows: I leave things the way they are.
audio_guy: or
audio_guy: I take out/turn down the scream
darklord: sounds reasonable.
audio_guy: you'll notice that there is NO option called "turn the footsteps up as loud as the friggin' go"!!!
audio_guy: care to take a guess as to why?
darklord: ...dynamics?
audio_guy: very good

...

darklord: I have an idea
darklord: take them to the zoo
audio_guy: zoo?
darklord: wait until the elephant trumpets, and ask them if they could hear the elephant's footsteps when it was trumpeting.
darklord: or, maybe a lion + roar.
audio_guy: you can't hear elephants footsteps when they're not trumpeting
audio_guy: they are silent
audio_guy: or nearly so
darklord: hmmm.
darklord: good point.

...

darklord: billygoats then.

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29.3.06

GDC Found Art

I've recently been showing you (y'all) various interactive thingymajobbers that can be engaged with on the web. And, I... seem to be unable to stop myself.

I attended the Game Developer's Conference last week. Normally this is an excruciatingly pleasant affair for me; I really dig swimming around in academic-style higher-learning thinking, and reminding myself of the fundamentals of what we do.

This year? Not so much. I was fighting a flu of some kind, and when I get sick I get stupid. So, I missed most of the talks I wanted to see, the talks I did see sucked badly, and I just generally walked around and went "duuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhh..."

However, I did find something I want to show you.

The Independant Games Festival (IGF) is a hoot; folks make games for free, and then compete for a cash prize and the prestige of their fellow game developers (which hopefully translates into some kind of distribution deal--HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA *wipes tear from eye* hooo, boy I crack myself up sometimes... no, seriously though, I think someone one time got some money for it, but I can't confirm that).

The IGF benefits me directly, because I get to play their games. Most times, they are not so good. Lots of love there, but...

Common mistakes repeat themselves endlessly among the new initiates into the realm of entertainment making, and games are no exception to that. But, every once in a while, you get a rare gem. Something that could not ever possibly make money, but is so completely captivating that it can only be described as art.

Palette is that.

Before you click on that, here's a couple of hints to help you navigate the unbelievable overdone website. Click on the door, and then... don't panic. Everything's okay; the little window that just exploded and then resized itself is the game. I know, I know, it's just a black window. Wait for it. Wait... wait... it'll load. Do not try to click back to the main site; it's useless to you now.

There you go. Now, as a favor to the latent stained glass artist in all of us, spend ten minutes with it.

Oh yeah, and turn the sound on. It's just not the same game without the sound.

Here's something that isn't obvious until you've dumped four hours into it (like I might have done, I don't really remember, it's all a blur of color and light... so... beautiful...): there are several color layouts for each "window". When you replay, you will likely have a completely different problem to solve than the first time you played it.

Not sure if you care that much. God knows I do. But, I'm starting to wonder about my sanity.

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2.2.06

The Day After (Black Wednesday)

Having been through a massive layoff or two (at EA), I have a rather vivid idea of what yesterday was like at Electronic Arts.

Let's not dwell on that. It was no fun, and a whole bunch of people got caught in the proverbial threshing machine of business priorities. If you are still at EA, and still want to be, congratulations. If you are not there, and wish you were, my condolences to you and your family.

I do not share many people's urge to shake their fist and rail against the cruelty of these financial institutions; I am not startled when a large, soulless organization makes a large, soulless decision, shifting the world around to better suit its aims. I observe these behemoths in the same way I would a Tyrannosaur: with some fear, some respect, and very little surprise when their predatory instincts flare up.

...

It is clear what it would feel like to have been given the boot. A variation on anger, or a variation on acceptance, or a variation on relief, are in my mind the most likely candidates.

What fascinates me are the moments just after events like this. In particular, when one is among the survivors.

For example. Immediately after a large layoff, the folks who have not been pulled into an office and given a sad (but stern) communication from the Human Resources group end up kindof... walking around. You can't really work on a day like that, and no one expects you to. But you do go looking. Can't help it: you want to know who made it and who didn't.

And then, you see a friend of yours, maybe that one artist guy who worked with you on your level a few months back. And he's out looking, too. You look at each other.

That moment there? The air fairly shimmers with the unspoken communication. "So. You lived too." And, you both share this strange sequence of emotion:
  1. Relief (or regret) that he made it.
  2. Brief shared sympathy for those that didn't.
  3. Quick (and unadmitted) pride that you didn't get cut, shared (also unadmitted) with your coworker who also didn't get cut.
And you both move on, looking for other signs of what people the future might contain, and what people it won't.

...

And now, today. Today, of course, the surviving members of the Event gather together in the auditorium for a studio meeting. At this meeting, the Heads of State will stand up in front of the uncertain crowd. And, the remarkable thing about this moment is that as everyone is streaming in, witnessing the podium and the preperations for the PowerPoint presentation that will explain what just happened and why, and what will happen now, there is this almost tangible undercurrent, talking to everyone in the room.

"We lied to you," the undercurrent says. "We have been lying to you for some time. We have been lying to you about the security of your positions, what the future holds, who you will be working with, what you will be doing, what our plans are for the studio... just about everything, in fact.

"However, that is our
job, in times such as these. You know that, and we know that. If we had told you the truth about this before it happened, it would have gotten ugly. Because it had to happen. Or, at the very least, that is the conclusion we have reached.

"And now, even though it is remarkably uncomfortable to start over like this, we want to tell you a
new story about the future. And, we want you to believe that this one is the actual truth.

"But... let's be honest. You know, and we know, that this new story is
also a lie. And, we are all painfully aware that that doesn't really matter. Because we never tell you the actual truth. We don't have to, but... also, we really can't. Not if we want to keep our jobs.

"Please don't think about this too much, for your sake and for ours, but the main difference between today and any other day is that today it is much harder to convince yourself that the world is not filled with monsters."

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8.11.05

Milestone

I spent last week stuffing gameplay into my project.

Game design has a funny rhythm. (Not clown funny. Funny bone funny. As it, not funny.) The forces at work in game development conspire to make most of the actual work of game design happen at the very last minute. But there is one force that insures that designers always end up stuffing their work into the game at the last minute.

Force The First: Ambition.

So you're sitting down to plan your next milestone. You've got six weeks, and you've got like 10 people you're planning for. Which would you pick?
  1. Give your system programmers the milestone off, because you just want your designers to build gameplay out of what they have;
  2. Put absolutely no gameplay into the milestone (but be sure to hide this fact from your producers);
  3. Balance the work of the milestone between new systems development and design work.
Everyone picks 3. I've seen exceptions to this so rarely that when I describe them it takes on that mystical tone that you get when describing that unicorn you think you saw that one time when you were a kid.

Cool, so we're going to keep everyone busy during the milestone. Spread out the deliverables. Good call.

Except that design implementation depends on systems to be at least functional before work can begin.

Thus, design implementation begins two weeks before the milestone is due.

Because that's about a close as you can cut it and still make a new feature function. Systems engineers know this, so they will likely pace themselves towards this goal (being done with at least two weeks to spare). Sometimes they miss.

So, designers spend the first few weeks of the milestone "designing". By that I mean sitting around writing documents and giving "feedback" to other people. This blows, and is not what designers want to be doing, but until the tools are ready, it beats playing World of Warcraft.

Actually, scratch that. Warcraft is better.

Then the systems come online. With ten days to spare before the milestone. Panic.

So, as I mentioned, I spent last week stuffing gameplay into my project. This is because the milestone was Monday. And, I gotta say, we made a hell of a lot of progress. It is amazing what a small, talented interdisciplinary group of people who are all focused on the same goal and are comitted to each other's input can do in a short amount of time.

I just sometimes wish it could happen in a long amount of time as well. :P

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12.10.05

The E[A]scapist

Wowzers. The Escapist has a whole bunch of articles on EA, just came out.

There's one on how EA became the behemoth it is today.

There's a really horrible piece that couldn't do better than scan that seems to be about the authors opinions on EA's market conditions.

There's that bitchin' ad for Second Life that they run every issue.

There's one on how EA devoured Origin's soul. And this, I think, is by far the most interesting of the lot. Read it, and let's sit down, grab a cup of joe, and talk.

See, it points to something I've been mulling over for some time now. Let's see if I can express my thoughts... algabraically.
  • Personal contribution = (personal sacrifice) x (talent)
  • Quality = (personal contribution) x (# of developers) x (months)
  • Cost = (salaries) x (# of developers) x (months)
  • Profit = (quality) x ( (marketing) + (licensing) ) - (cost)
  • Personal Profit = (profit) / (# of developers)
Solve!

The Origin Way:
  • let (personal contribution) = 10,000 dollar ergs of worthiness
  • let (# of developers) = 5
  • let (months) = random (12-48)
  • let (salaries) < (industry average)
  • let (marketing) = 3
  • let (licensing) = 0
  1. Quality = 10,000 x 5 x ~24 = 1,200,000 (which is a lot of quality, as we all know)
  2. Cost = ~$2000 (~$24K) x 5 x 24 = $240,000 (dirt cheap!)
  3. Sales = 1,200,000 x (3 + 0) = $3,600,000 (people liked it!)
  4. Profit = $3,600,000 - $240,000 = $3,360,000 (much dough, low overhead)
  5. Personal Profit = $3,360,000 / 5 = $672,000 each (which is a lot of green for those 5 people)
The EA Way:
  • let (personal contribution) = 1000 dollar ergs of worthiness
  • let (# of developers) = random (50-200)
  • let (months) = 12
  • let (salaries) > (industry average)
  • let (marketing) = 10
  • let (licensing) = 10
  1. Quality (~1000 x ~125 x 12) = 1,500,000 (which is, of course, only slightly higher than what was achieved above)
  2. Cost ($6000 (~$72K) x ~125 x 12) = $9,000,000 (ow! high! ow!)
  3. Sales (1,500,000 x (10 + 10) ) = $30,000,000
  4. Profit = $30,000,000 - $9,000,000 = $21,000,000 (much dough, high overhead)
  5. Personal Profit = $21,000,000 / 125 = HA! Who are you trying to kid.
I'll understand if none of that makes any sense at all. I will. And, I promise not to take it personally when you fail the test on Monday.

...

I could tell you which model I aspire to, but I prefer to seem secretive and reserved. But I bet you can guess.

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6.10.05

Overblogged

So... much data... can't hold on...

/deep breath

My children take their breakfast one room over from my web wave-catchin' terminal. I prefer to "hang-10" in the den, if you catch my meaning. And so it was that, this morning, my children got to hear, muffled through the thin wall that seperates my domain from their breakfast table, the deep, stacatto pounding of my evil overlord laugh. It leapt, unbidden, from the depths of my chest and filled the house upon my reading of these words.

I "mu hu wa ha ha HA HA HA HA HA HAAAAA" 'd my way through the rest of the morning. My children scurried hither and yon, hoping to avoid being tossed into the Pit O' Flame for kicks by this nefarious creature that their father had become.

Made my goddamn morning, it did.

I love being right. Have you heard? Have you heard? Sun & Google have aligned.

What's more hilarious than the news itself is the effluviant skree (to borrow a word from the title of this blog) that it generated. Hyperbole? Absolutely.

As far as I can tell, very little has actually happened. Here's Fortune's take on it, which seems nice and balanced; in short, everyone's pretty excited, but very little concrete has come out of this alignment.

Some folks are, in fact, taking issue with the whole thing. Which, as experienced media watchers know, is a fine indication that something might actually come of all this bru-ha-ha.

Regardless. Clearly we don't know much right now. Except, of course, for this:
"The American internet search group said that the deal would bolster distribution of Sun’s OpenOffice software, which offers similar programs to those available on Microsoft Office, such as word-processing software."
(taken from the Times Online)

Readers of this site have heard me pray to various gods and powers for the day when Google would give me a version of MSWord that I could use with a browser, from anywhere. It appears that the Google gods are kind and just (at least, for now), and want to do just that. And, clever monkeys, they seem to want to do that with a product that already exists.

I {heart} Google.

...

BUT!! For cryin' out loud. If you can believe it, that's actually only the first piece of remarkable news to hit the stands this morning.

I love being right. Have you heard? Have you heard? The EA lawsuit got bought out--I mean, settled.

This one I haven't spent much time on. I used to work for those yahoos, see, and it didn't seem like a good use of my time to blog about how much it sucks to work there, when other folk have done such an admirable job of that already.

That said, anyone with a passing familiarity with the way EA does business will not be startled at my opinion on how this particular lawsuit would (and will) pan out. It goes something like this:
  1. EA will buy out the plaintiffs to prevent a judgement from being entered. This is prudent, and the right thing for EA to do for its own preservation.
  2. Alas, this will leave the actual law unclear, and will leave the door open to future abuses.
  3. EA will engage in future abuses, in part as a knee-jerk retribution against being ashamed in public. Still unable to make significant changes on their teams, managers will find themselves speaking the words "Well, you guys wanted to be hourly, so... I don't know what to tell you."
  4. Working conditions will worsen, EA's profits will increase, and the hourly workers will experience increasing resentment over their small slice of the pie (even though that was the deal they signed up for).
  5. The hourly workers will eventually call IATSE (the International Alliance of Theatrical Stage Employees, Moving Picture Technicians, Artists and Allied Crafts), and the drive to unionize will begin.
  6. (This may or may not actually improve things. It entirely depends on who's in charge and what issues galvanize the membership.)
But, as a friend of mine just said, "Yeah, here's my prediction: the sun's going to fucking rise tomorrow morning." ;)

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30.9.05

Revolution!! Or Something.

I want to talk about this Manifesto Games thing. (Here's some more. Oh, and this, and this. Maybe some of this, but only if there's time left over after Q&A.)

Boy, he sure did generate a lot of press!

I have the greatest respect for Mr. Greg Costikyan and his inciteful writing. When I was on my own, and struggling to try and make something out of nothing in the games industry, his direct, take-no-prisoners style writing and clear thinking about what makes games games kept me warm through the long dark night.

But...

Okay, so as far as I can tell, the pitch here is that the games industry sucks, and that the way out is for Mr. Costikyan to incite revolution (with a new company that he has announced very publicly) that will change the economics of games in a way that gives more money to the creators.

Foundational to this idea is the notion of Scratchware, a term he coined (watch out for popups on that link), which is defined as follows:
"The phrase scratchware game essentially means a computer game, created by a microteam, with pro quality art, game design, programming and sound to be sold at paperback book store prices."
I would like to respond to the assertion that Mr. Costikyan and his brave revolutionaries are going to generate a whole new industry, filled with scratchware, and free himself (and other oppressed creators like him) from the shackles of The Man.

*ahem*
(Well, hell. I guess I'll just have to include them all.)
...

WTF is he talking about??

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26.7.05

Okay, so OW.

It really, really hurts to have a cool thing you designed summarily cut from the game.

Now here's the problem: it is well known that designers love to sit there and beat their chest in woe when their ideas are removed from their games by producers. It is, in fact, stereotypical behavior to protest such cuts. So much so that it galls me when I see it, and it galls me even more when I do it.

But, man, sometimes it really stings.

It seems to be largely in the presentation. Producers take note: there is a great deal of difference between saying, "We're thinking about cutting that boss fight and replacing it with something simpler; what do you think about that?" and saying, "Yeah, we cut that. Thank god, too, it didn't make any sense."

Don't get me wrong. When a producer comes to me and asks me what I think about a proposed cut, I'm well aware that they aren't actually looking for my opinion on the matter. It's been settled all ready, generally long before the question made its way to my desk. That said, even the slightest courtesy in these matters often makes the difference between a kind of resigned acceptance of the inevitable and sitting there stewing in frustration and confusion (and then blogging about it).

But still, one is presented with the dilemma: the way such things get handled often really fucking stings, but if I make any noise about that fact, I have to overcome the initial assumption that I'm just complaining about my work getting cut. Which I'd like to do. Which of course is something that wants to invade any conversation I have about the topic, and takes some reasonable amount of restraint to prevent. Which makes convincing people that I really don't just want to grouse all the more difficult.

Sigh.

Needless to say, they cut something today. It happens. I fantasize sometimes about ways to handle the urgent necessity of game development in such a way as to not require me to sit and take it unflinchingly. There ought to be a better way, dammit.

None jump to mind, though. Other than just being kind to one another.

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17.7.05

58... And Hubris.

WoW continues. 58 and a half, to be precise. I'm going to spare you for now. Rest assured, it's coming.

I think today I want to talk about a little game delay. Consider yourself warned: it's going to get a little abstract and moral here, and it's going to go all over the place. Settle back, get a good strong hold on the arms of your chair, maybe get something to drink, and brace yourself.

It's about this:

hu·bris (hyoo'bris)

n.
Overbearing pride or presumption; arrogance: “There is no safety in unlimited technological hubris” (McGeorge Bundy).

[Greek, excessive pride, wanton violence. See ud- in Indo-European Roots.]

It is said that history repeats itself. Although I suppose this is true from the perspective of the historian, I imagine it would be more accurate to say that humans in similar situations with similar information and available choices make similar mistakes. It seems a bit rash to me to present the activity of homo sapiens as occuring in a context of "history". Everything that happens, happens right now, and that's why it happens over and over and over.

How does that apply to the topic at hand? Well, this mistake, like so many mistakes, was avoidable, was predicted, and will cause more harm than it must, and at the center of all of that is our word of the day: hubris.

Does it sound personal to me? It is. I don't want to go too deeply into why; I think that will only cloud the issue. If you know me, you know why, and if you don't, that's not the point I'm making here.

It would be easy to point at this turn of events and go "you fucked up! nyaaaaaaah!". But that's not why we're here. What I want to talk about instead is what happens around hubris. Or, perhaps, in the presence of hubris.

The game push is so deliciously crystalline as an example, but there are others. The one that hits me the most often personally is having the basics of game design re-explained to me by people who know less about it than I do.

On the surface the two would seem to have very little to do with each other. But let's dig. I see it as two flareups of the same disease; one small, and one very, very large. Let's try and walk the path of how that could be.

Many people that I work with can't imagine that I would disagree with them (about anything, really) if I just understood them. My disagreement is almost always interpreted as either an incomplete understanding of what is being presented, or a frustrating inability to see it the way they are seeing it.

Of course, the concept that I might actually be seeing more than they do, or that I might just simply disagree is... I don't want to say never, but certainly just shy of never considered.

That was the case with that game up there. As a witness to actual events, let's say that many predictions about the likely path that project was likely to take were made. But, every time, the counter response assumed that the speaker just didn't get it. You're not seeing the whole picture, see, that's why you believe taking this path we are all on is a mistake.

Make some little sense? See that? That's hubris. Re-explaining something is not the same thing as listening.

So, now. I want to ask you something.

Do you see that behavior in yourself? I mean, EA didn't. Still doesn't.

What I really want to do is to reach right through this keyboard, across the billion-bit divide that seperates our minds, and turn your seeing organs right back on your own self, dear reader. I can't, of course, but I wish to.

Let me ask you this, then, instead of inverting your optic nerves. Do you begin your conversations believing that you understand your topic at hand better than your peers? If so, did you come to this after years of exhausting every other possibility, or, perhaps, did the idea that other people are less informed than you come before the actual evidence emerged?

I reject a "No, I don't do that." I do it, we all do. And so:
  1. Believing that you are above acting out of hubris is the greatest act of hubris itself.
  2. It is even worse when you claim to be willing to listen, and are in fact merely sorting data to see if your audience understands you. (see "a little game delay", above).
  3. The only way out, then, is the Work, which is just trying to improve, one day at a time.
That's it. I just wanted to take this wonderful, hubritic moment, and use it to remind you that you've got some work to do yourself. But don't let it get you down. You've got plenty of time.

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7.7.05

It Keeps Happening This Way

[ random emotional outburst ]

I'm getting tired of myself.

Before I go on, I should explain something. I have absolutely no patience for insufferable artist folk who go on and on and on about how terrible their life is, and how it's all a big fucking tragedy. Because it isn't, see. So, take this post in that context: I'm engaging in behavior that I find abhorrent.

So, here's the deal: I'm paid to think. It's pretty much my whole gig. That, and talking. The way it works, generally, is that someone with their hands on the wheel of whatever project I'm on points me at some problem, and goes, "Explain!" I go trundling off, dissect the poor creature with my talons and mandibles, and bring back a rather detailed explanation of what made it tick prior to my arrival. Often it is no longer "ticking" per se by the time I am done with it, but those are the risks you take.

My masters then go "Hmm. Okay. Then we should do is..." and kinda wander off talking amongst themselves, holding the information I brought back between them like a medical specimen, or a rare artiface. Sometimes I engage in the conversation about what we are going to do about what I found, and sometimes I don't.

I like this gig. I like it a lot. And, I'm pretty good at it, if the reports on my progress and my continued deployment against expensive problems are any indication of the quality of my work. Figure they are.

So then why is it, do you suppose, that over and over I find myself in a room full of people who don't want to hear what I have to say? And here is where the random emotional outburst actually begins: it's so frustrating to be hired for a given strength (say, one's analytical abilities), and then to be constantly ignored when attempting to apply that strength to problems other than the specific problems that one's masters are aware of. This situation is bizarre to the extent that my outspoken nature and foresight are often the very reason I have been brought in. To be ignored in such a case is surreal at best.

And yet, it happens again, and again, and again... and again... and again... until I have to step back and say, "What in the fuck am I doing wrong that is creating this situation?" Because clearly I can't have simply ended up in the same situation in every professional role I've had to date by coincidence.

I think the answer lies in what I am willing to settle for. For, of course, what you will settle for is what the world will give you. So, then, it follows that the solution to this dilemma is to change what I am willing to settle for.

This will be difficult.

But, as a wise man once said, "What the fuck else have you got to do?"

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24.6.05

Conversationaloisty

As I'm sitting here in my cube, two unfamiliar faces walk in. One is a local guy, who knows me but I do not know; we introduce ourselves. The other is, I am informed, the new Producer from corporate for our project. I only mention this because their behavior in the moments that follow is so striking to me. I've been in the games industry for seven years now, and over and over this moment occurs. Here's the setup:
  • We are all People of Importance. That is to say, leads, or producers. Folks with Influence.
  • We have not met before.
  • We are engaged in our normal work-a-day existence. Say:
    • I am sitting at my desk, typing away.
    • You are being given a tour of a new office, chatting away with your tourguide, who is also a Person of Importance.
  • We meet. As in, you are brought to my cube, and we are introduced to each other.
In this situation, several things happen right off the bat:
  • "Hi, I'm the producer on [insert project name]." "Oh, hey there. I'm the lead designer on your project!" [smiles, handshakes]
  • We all know that we would do well to know one another. This is clear from the moment the titles are exchanged.
  • And, suddenly, we have nothing else to talk about. I mean, we hardly know each other, weren't prepared to meet & discuss anything, etc.
  • But, we're not quite ready to bail on the opportunity to get to know another Person of Importance.
What happens next is the strangest thing: the human urge to connect and make an impression on someone that we know will be important in our future kicks in, and you strike up a conversation with the person that you do know (in this case, your tourguide), right in front of the person you just met. And you pick a topic that hopefully will be of interest to your new acquaintence.

The scenario progresses as follows:
  • I sit and listen. I'm learning things about you (and your tourguide), and as you are a Person of Importance, I want all the data I can get on you, and thus am more than willing to do this. Happy to, in fact.
  • You, thus, have an interested audience, which makes the conversation you are having with the other guy easy to have.
  • It works really well. For about thirty seconds.
  • Then, the strangeness of having a conversation with 2/3rds of your group kicks in, and the conversation swoops to a swift close, and with semi-embarassed grins on their faces that they indulged in this strange "talking in front of someone you just met" behavior, everyone breaks.
  • "Nice to meet you!" "Really great! See ya around!" [ more handshakes ]
  • Everyone leaves happy.
This has happened to me, oh, let's see here, maybe 50 times over the course of my career? The exact same process. It fascinates me, these human behaviors that emerge 100% of the time that we are often completely unaware of.

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17.6.05

New Digs

I have arrived at my new home away from home, and it is... good, I think.

I was ushered into a new, spiffy cubicle yesterday morning. The walls of this new habitrail contraption are higher than the last cube I had, which is a cube upgrade of sorts; now the only person who I can see as they are walking by is the 6'10" Tower of Denmark who is my director.

Now, I am tall. I'm just under 6'1", which puts me just inside that elite class of folks who can scan a crowd while within it. Western civilization is a fine place to be a tall man, they say, and I have seen nothing to contradict this appraisal. However, it also puts tall people into a state of mind that I can describe as "I'm taller than you."

Thus, when some giant appears, and suddenly my head is tilting back instead of forward when I look at this guy... it's a little disorienting. And, as a tall guy, I don't have any communication patterns that apply to people who are taller than me (because, see, I'm taller than you), and so I end up using tall guy body language, only up instead of down...

I'm going to fall on my ass during a meeting, is what's going to happen. So it goes.

My new gig is made all the better by the presence of several old and dear friends. It's actually kinda strange, working with the same people I was working with in the other place, but in a completely different environment. It honestly feels like I accidentally stepped through one of those blue, glowing rifts in reality, and have emerged in some alternate universe where I work at a slight different game company and everyone's roles have been shifted around haphazardly.

I like it.

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6.6.05

Exhibit A

After five years of grind, I am relocating from my current sprawling corporate behemoth to a smaller, slightly less sprawling corporate behemoth.

There are many aspects of this long-in-coming transition that I am satisfied. For today, we will discuss why I am glad that I will have a chance to roll over my "Exhibit A" in the "We Own Your Brain Document".

Perhaps you are familiar with this document; it is the one that says flatly that anything that you think or do during the term of your employment at the company belongs to them. I've always chafed at this notion. If I go home, and paint a purty picture (say), does that picture belong to The Man, simply because I could have been working during the hours of 9pm to midnight? Does the fact that I draw a salary from these people to think mean that I can no longer think my own thoughts? I'm skeptical about this.

Those of you who have signed one of these may be familiar with this "Exhibit A" that I mentioned. This is the page where you get to make a list of what is affectionately referred to as "Prior Inventions". The last three times I signed a We Own Your Brain, I left my Exhibit A completely empty.

That will not be the case this time. For, you see, over my tenure at this company, I have discovered that I very much enjoy the process of creation. In particular, I enjoy creating little interactive game things that I can show to my friends and family.

See, but the way I see it, those little creations of mine shouldn't belong to the company. They should belong to me. They have nothing to do with my work, even though creating them often involves a similar skill set to what I do professionally.

Now, from their perspective, I get it. Say, for example, one of your workers invents Nylon. Well, you'd want to own that, wouldn't you. (True story, by the way. I think the guy got a $100,000 one-time bonus for the invention.)

But with creative endeavors, it gets murky. I mean, let's say I maintain a web comic, and I work for an entertainment company. Now that web comic becomes popular. Does the company have any right to claim ownership to that work? Even if I began working on it while under their employ? I'm dubious on that.

Thankfully, civilized society sort of agrees with me. The evidence for this is the "Exhibit A", a blank page that is put on the back of every We Own Your Brain document, a page which, this time, I intend to fill with as complete a list as I can muster of all of my creations, past, present, and future.

Power to the people! Or something.

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31.5.05

> write blog entry

West of House

You are standing in an open field west of a white house, with a boarded front door.

There is a small mailbox here.

>

See, yeah. Even now, in these days of multi-pass shaders and 5,000-polygon character models, there's something there.

Admit it. You want to open the mailbox. I know, so do I.

> open mailbox

Opening the mailbox reveals a leaflet.


>

Yeah, and this is where the slippery slope begins.

Admittedly, a large part of the appeal of the text adventure back in the day was the simple fact that it was immersive and interactive. That portion of the appeal has now been claimed by the Half Life 2s of the world. Resoundingly. I mean, look at it.

So complete was the takeover that many fans of interactive entertanment ("gamers", for those of you keeping score at home) convinced themselves that there was, in fact, nothing left behind. That the world of text adventures was nothing more than a cored out husk, dry and brittle. A kind of technological mummy: interesting when observed in a museum, but only to provide historical edjumacation.

To these folk, I say, bah.

The best argument I've found to demonstrate why I still am interested in this ancient word-based form of entertainment is Andrew Plotkin's Spider and Web. There is, quite simply, no better way to convey this kind of experience than through interactive text.

[ A technical aside: in order to actually play the .z5 file that you'll find at the end of that link, you'll need Frotz for Windows. The way this works is you download the game file, and then run it with a "player", which is what Frotz is. In Frotz, do File->Open on the .z5 file. I know, I know. They're working on it. ]

(I am making the unreasonable assumption that if you aren't using Windows, you are likely capable of figuring out what steps to take to find a player for your system. Believe me when I say that there are players for Every Goddamn Platform Known To Mankind.)


There are others out there of that quality as well. And, the thing that makes me go "hmmm," is that these people are all unpaid fans. Imagine what would happen if there were actual companies out there who were making these kinds of games full time.

There's hundreds of dollars to be made out there. Maybe even thousands.

That, however, is the really interesting thing. Games as a whole are large enough now that even a 2% slice of a niche genre is enough to live on. I like it.

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19.5.05

I Have Fallen Into A Hole

So, everything was cool this morning. The world was revolving as it should, I had coffee with my egg thing for breakfast, and woke my children from their slumber. Then, this happened.

I clicked, see. I clicked, when I should have turned away, disinterested.

Let me give you some background.

I have a deep-rooted interest in the evolution of the independent game development community. For years upon years now I have suffered the complaints and gripes of my fellow corporate slave monkeys who "wish there was some way to make money in games", who would "love to make their own game" if only "there was any money in it".

There are 10,000 variations on this line. The general idea is that where we are is all there is, and no one could possibly be doing the thing that we wish we were doing (which is making games that are fun), because clearly if that was possible, we, of course, would be doing it.

Let me apply an opinion to my otherwise dry and empty rhetoric. That, my friends, is a load of crap. So says I.

Thus, I watch with loving, adoring fascination as the independant games industry emerges from it's chrysalis, and spreads its wings. The last two or three years have been amazing. I've said to several folks that the independents of today as a whole look to me like the whole industry did about 6 years ago. That is to say, small teams, some very high-quality product (with some real stinkers in there), and some folks that are starting to figure out how to actually sustain a profit.

There is, for example, PlayFirst. Oasis is an outstanding game, one that I dumped a vast quantity of time into over the last month. It's the one that convinced me that it's all up and running. Diner Dash has eaten my children. It had me in it's foul grip for some time, but I believe I have escaped.

SO! Back to our thread. So I click. And I find Game Tunnel.

I had no idea these guys existed, and how can that be, but who cares, they have the Top 10 Indy Games of 2004! Shit, is that Wik & the Fable of Souls? I've played that! (It's awesome, btw.) And, other stuff... and... and...

So you see, it's been like this all morning, with no signs of abating. I have found, in the very same moment, proof that indy games are a viable alternative to the Big Guns (proof that I can send in an email no less), and found a rich, verdant jungle filled with mad gaming weirdness. HamsterBall?

It's going to be a long week.

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10.5.05

Oh my god

Genius. I certainly ain't the first to pass this link along, but god DAMN it if I can't keep myself from linking:

http://www.experimentalgameplay.com/

In particular, Tower of Blobs must be played.

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