“You Should Make a Game!”
That was the sentence, the challenge, that started this project. A simple discussion with a close friend and New Kingdom was underway. Of course, there is some backstory to this challenge, and we will fill that in as we go. Before we get too far though, let me clarify why get into the process at all.
This blog is dedicated to helping aspiring game designers, fans of the game, and generally curious readers peel back the layers of game design from one designer’s perspective. As a creator, I know that creativity is easily squashed, constantly tested, and rarely affirmed. If you, like me, struggle to embrace and express your creativity, I hope my story will be helpful for you as a gateway to your own project whether it be a game, a business, a piece of art, or literally anything else your mind can conceive.
First I’ll explore the origins, the challenge, “you should make a game!’
“…okay I’ll do it,” I said.
The “inception text” after the initial challenge…thanks Weston!
That pause, however, was filled with imposter syndrome. “Like…a whole game? One people will want to play? A game that people might buy, play without me, and play again? A real game? Could I possibly? I couldn’t. I guess I could…no…but maybe…” you get the gist. Turns out the feeling is quite normal among creative types. As a right-brained person constantly bouncing from one project to the next I know the feeling well.
My garage and basement are full of half-built furniture, half-painted miniatures, and barely scribbled-in journals and sketch books. This challenge, however, struck me as one not to be taken lightly. It came at a time I was ready to finish a project, and it came at the tail-end of a year spent indulging and stretching my creativity (more on this later).
I was ready. I could be an imposter and simply say “okay that sounds like a nice project for someday down the road,” or I could get to work and make a plan. You see, imposters are actors, and I knew that how I set out on this journey would effect whether or not I would feel like an imposter at the end. Would I give this a fair shake, or like the drawings in my sketch book would I refuse to seek any outside input whatsoever and just keep doodling until I got bored?
I’m sure you’ve heard a million times - failing to plan is planning to fail - so before jumping in with two feet, buying software and supplies I thought might be helpful that I didn’t know how to use, I started planning. The plan for the game, however, is the subject of another post entirely. The first battled had already been won. I said, “yes,” to myself and to my creative impulse.
At this stage I had overcome imposter syndrome. I had taken that brilliant, beautiful, risky leap into the unknown. I had started a project. I told someone I cared about that I knew would follow up with me on my progress, “okay, I’ll do it!” That was and is truly the first step in any creative endeavor: accepting the challenge.
