Well, that’s that, then. The last of my things moved out of my old flat, spare furniture sold off, keys handed over to the landlord.
It’s a bit strange to be out of there, finally. Seven years I’d stayed in that flat, I’d long since outgrown it. But I stayed because rent was low(ish) and the shops were within walking distance so I didn’t have to drive much. A good spot for keeping my expenses reasonable while I pursued my dream of indie game development.
That didn’t quite work out, of course. Despite my careful planning, I still ran out of money before finishing my game, and I’m now back to working a day job while I finish SC after hours. But it sheltered me along one leg of my journey, that little flat, and now I’ve seen the last of it.
Strange, like I said. But good. Good to move on.
The packing up was rewarding, too. I sorted out my crap, consigning the detritus to garbage bags and hauling them off to the bins. You feel lighter after such an exercise, unclogged. And it forced me to go through my old notepads and scrap books, looking for anything worth keeping. In the process, I found my old game design notes and the little concept sketches I did, some of them kind of cool, some of them scribbles incomprehensible to anyone but myself.
I sat there, on the floor in my now furniture-devoid apartment, paging through those old, dusty notes and smiling. Remembering.
Game development can be hard, and solo game development even more so. There’s no one to motivate you but yourself, no team mates to draw emotional strength from or to share the burdens with. There have been times, working alone in that little flat while my friends buy houses and start families, where I’ve wondered whether the sacrifice was worth it. Whether I even really want to continue. Whether it matters.
Looking through those notes reminded me. No, this is where I belong. This is where my heart is, where it’s always been.
Page after page of notes and sketches and diagrams. Skill and character descriptions, city and continent maps, spider diagrams of plot brainstorming. Snippets of world lore and quest ideas, monster and building and equipment concepts. Logos and emblems. Database designs and class descriptions(the code kind).
Some of the pages I took photos of:
Much of it shoddy, my nascent skills not quite up to the task of capturing the ideas in my head. And not yet disciplined or committed enough to sit and really flesh them out. But the spirit of the endeavor was there, shining through those pages. The urge to bring my daydreams of other worlds to life.
Like I said, I’ve asked myself whether it matters to me, which is part of the larger question of what I want my life to be about, really. The answer is there, in those notebooks. Indie game developers have a variety of reasons for doing what they’re doing. Some come to game design in order to explore interesting mechanics, others for the chance to bring their art to life. Me, I’m a world builder. World building, the exploration of imaginary places and characters, is what really fires me with excitement.
That’s why I love the fantasy and sci-fi genres. That’s why I can lose an entire Friday night on some Warhammer 40k lore wiki. That’s why I don’t skip the text. Strong world building is the common factor across my favourite games, more than mechanics or genre; compelling fictional worlds that I long to lose myself in, characters that I want to spend time getting to know.
I have spent my youth enjoying and absorbing the fantastical worlds that others have built. Now I want to craft worlds of my own design. And then hand them over to other people to enjoy.
Design is communication. The skills I’ve taught myself, coding, painting, writing, those are just different tools to communicate a design. Each with its own strengths and weaknesses. Game development weaves these disciplines together, binding story, art and mechanical interaction into a whole greater than its parts, conveying living, breathing worlds as no other medium can.
I’ve saved those old design notes, filed them away fondly for when I need a boost. To remind me of where my heart lies, if I forget again.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have worlds to build. 😉