Realism and Levels of Actualization (Snecca V1.2)

This will be a post-mortem of the introspective variety. If you're willing to get your game design tips through philosophy, you're welcome to grab a seat and a cup of whatever beverage befits you.

A few days ago I listened to an episode of the Dev Dump podcast. Something that one of the members said resonated with me in a surprising way that connected to many previous thoughts that seemed to be screaming for that missing piece. More on that near the end. There will be 3 sections to this: Games and a creative person's life, Snecca (the game!), and some thoughts about taking action and being realistic.

Section 1 - Games and Life

We are always somewhere between satisfaction and not yet feeling that our idea has been actualized.  For me, that point is seldom close to one side; dynamic and easily distracted, it flits between a poised Zen master and a blacksmith hell-bent on forging the next subtle revolution in game design. This is likely because, like many others, I have many aspects of life which affect the ideas I try to bring to fruition.

There are a few layers which are more directly related to games. There's the Content, stalwart and hard-working. Its chest puffed out, it does its very best to convey the spirit and feeling of a project. On top we have Design, hands flying fervently over the controls in order to most accurate reign in the experience through systems and passion. But it continues, as most things do. Meta-Design looks in from every angle, subtly nudging Design to consider deadlines, healthy schedules, and the possibility that it is wrong and what it might do about it. But of course, even Meta-Design's got a daddy. Meta-Meta-Design wants to make sure that everyone knows why they're doing what they're doing: purpose is important, after all. 

This could likely go on to the point of describing whatever higher power of the universe you believe in, but I think you get the picture. If you look hard enough at anything, you'll see yourself, and, in turn, whatever else you are interested in. Our world is a nested prism, endlessly reflecting our own light as well as others' and telling us to do this or that... or does that mean we're telling ourselves? To get a bit more concrete, in this case we might find Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs. The game is an extension of ourselves, requiring all sorts of things to be successful, meaningful, made in a realistic manner, etc. This means that it is necessarily affected by our aspirations, diets, relationships, and so on - and not just in how those things inspire the game's content, but also how or if it gets made at all! This is inseparable from the creative process, and in the past few years I've found it important to remind myself of this whenever I get frustrated. I hope I can make it an even more natural habit. Crucially, each of these aspects of game/life (wherever that boundary is) influence each other. If you haven't finished a piece of a game for a jam which ends in 4 hours and you lean over and feel some uncomfortable fold of flesh roll over as your belly creases, you might suddenly lament the fact that you haven't worked out, and eww I've been sitting in this chair all day, and aww man this and the other ten thoughts like it have been impeding my progress all day and that's why the game's in this state to begin with and uggggggggggghhhhh.

[Downward spiral ensues.]
These things are forever interconnected.

Section 2 - Snecca

Snecca was a game that was born out of the desire to finish something, or at least get closer. The overscoping problem which I'm sure many can relate to meant that I was always chasing something that would diverge out of reach. I wanted so badly to make something impressive, but constantly felt bad that I was after something that was ultimately egotistically rooted. Sure, I had some cool ideas, but unless I could fail faster with my tests, there what was it all for?  

In my "Game Hierarchy of Needs", I was missing the peace and quiet of a mind which just wants to create. In other words, I was going for the tip of the pyramid without giving into the primal craving to survive at all costs. Being part of The Minimalist Jam, Snecca's basic design and willingness to "copy" off of an existing design space helped manage my expectations. The basic idea was "Snake, but you platform from top down. Emphasis on creation and destruction of your environment." Looking back, it being a week also certainly helped. I've learned about myself that there's only so much that I can do in a day that will actually benefit a project, as frustrating as that can be. I think I won't try to consciously change that about myself for now, simply pushing to focus and take breaks at more fitting times.

Section 3 - When to Lay Eggs

I've started going to a psychologist in the past six months, and one of the things that we've discussed the most is the disappointment that comes when ideas don't ever leave your mind. Sometimes they seem realistic and you never get to them. Sometimes it feels like some other part of life is getting in the way, like I mentioned earlier with the interconnectedness, and if only you could resolve that element you'd find a way to finally lay this idea egg. Whatever the case, after a while it seeps into other aspects of your life, even if it didn't originate from them. A song you want to write, a hike you want to go on, a person you want to ask for coffee. It all seems so... far away. 

I thought that I could avoid this (in the game-creation process, at least) by making a solid plan. To some degree, this idea was well-founded: I often went into game jams looking to make something small and manageable, but then allow my ego to sneakily creep in and stuff my game until it bursts. Therefore, I should have a more realistic plan, stick to it (even if it meant some concessions theme-wise, whatever), and, jam by jam, tune my personal "realistic pace". In retrospect, I can see that in the same way that one might overestimate their creative abilities, I overestimated how many jams this would take and how much I'd need to tamp down my ego outside of creative endeavors. I can now better explain the failure of this tactic, though, thanks to that podcast I mentioned way at the start. 
[*Looks up]
[Woah, that's way up there?]
One of the hosts (I think Polymars?) had mentioned something about how an idea isn't as fun once it's been fully formed in your mind. Once you're sure of what you're going to do, it essentially becomes about how much grunt work you can do to translate your vague thoughts into reality. I say vague because that's likely the reality, but I think it's important to mention that even if you're quite sure of what you'll do, it's probable that you haven't considered everything that comes with those ideas. Anyway, you're now essentially writing down a "closed problem". Your design challenge has already been solved, which, if you don't wholeheartedly accept as a good and responsible thing, can make it feel simultaneously like:
- you haven't done anything because it's already "done" and nothing's in front of you
- discouraged because now there's a mountain of work waiting to be done
- there's no point in doing it because, if it was that simple to think of, then it shouldn't be something you bother to polish up - it's already "manifestable" through means other than labor-intensive game-making

... which is potentially why Snecca was such a good turning point for me, because I had managed to lower my ego's bar enough to let myself go with something "casual" and therefore it didn't matter than I only had a half-baked idea, but it was also enough to be confident in because I would finally be working at my current - and real - experience level: beginner. I could finally take my own advice and start small, be willing to base a game off of someone else for a mechanical foothold, and spend time polishing. Basically, make a "real game" - nay - a real game, no quotes included. 

What should we take from all of this? Well, firstly and frankly, this was for me to feel important and professional at having finally more or less finished something AND gotten the drive to put these feelings into words. Thus, the rambling nature of my writing might not actually be conducive to any substantial self-improvement for anyone else (or myself, for that matter. :/ Welp).

Despite that, I think I'd like to say this: be real with yourself, and know that it's a habit to feel grounded and in the moment. You can build it up with the right actions or thoughts or break it down with the wrong ones, and it does have an element of confidence. Please take care of yourself by asking others what they think about your habits, your project, and your project's habits. You can make things happen. Indeed, you can alter your surroundings with persistence and the belief that your actions matter. Ask yourself and others what's important, and be willing to accept your ego. It won't go away anyway, so might as well get comfy.

I know that it's frustrating to not finish things, or feel that something will never be good enough. That might be at the conceptual phase or when the game is 75% done and there are tons of interesting things to say about how far along a project actually is. You might be sensing that I'm going to say, "but..." here, but I won't. I'm in complete agreement. It sucks. Big time. It's for that reason, I think, that I began to be turned off from watching devlogs of others. It made me feel like I wasn't doing enough and wouldn't get there because there was something innate missing or that needed to change, but it also hurt to watch all of these people do the same thing. "Making my dream game", this and "Please wishlist my game even though it's still in the graybox phase after 4 devlogs and I'm saying it'll be done in a month!!!!" that. 
I don't want to make "Dream Games". It sounds like a play on words, but the fact that they're even called that says something about our expectations, in my opinion. They're too damn high... or... off to the side somewhere... 

So, yeah. I don't want to make my "dream game". I want to make. Period.

It'll hurt sometimes (okay, okay... maybe all of the time - but only to a degree...!), but as we see in Snecca, breaking habits and traditions might feel like biting off our own tails. Just don't let distractions decide for you - I'm right alongside you, trying to avoid the YouTube plague myself. Seriously, I'm actualizing this post after having made just a tiny update to this game after months of feeling it was done enough. You can do it!

Hang in there, creators (of all things)!