Why Do I Want To Create Games?

Creating games is something I’ve always wanted to do since I was a small child. As soon as I was able to understand code at a rudimentary level I thought about making games. The idea would always excite me and my mind would instantly fill with fully fleshed out games, complete with graphics, sound, music, and far more things I in reality had any hope of completing or figuring out how to do.

Keep in mind. This was the 80s. There was no Google, no internet at all. I also was a child with almost zero attention span and would give up easily on things he found too frustrating. The best a wannabe game developer could do back then was get a really good book or some magazines with some brief examples.

I also found out later in life that I am most likely on the Autism spectrum and have ADHD, even into adulthood. My extremely vivid imagination was no match for my tendency to become overwhelmed and distracted. I also didn’t have a grasp on how truly difficult game making is, and when I couldn’t just figure it out right away I would tend to lose interest and just play games instead of making them.

There were many attempts at game making at various stages of my youth, but the little prototype games and graphical demos never really made it that far to become a real game.

I also wanted to do a lot of other things that required an immense amount of focus and practice. I wanted to write music. I wanted to create art. I wanted to create comics and books with rich characters and storylines. I always started these things and then gave up after the beginner’s period was over and I needed to spend time practicing and honing my skills… but I just wasn’t willing to do that.

I am genuinely a very fast beginner at things. This isn’t a boast; it’s a real truth about how quickly I adapt to new things and can just sort of hack my way through an unknown interface or realm of knowledge and have something to show for it. That’s a blessing and a curse. I always learn new things quickly and advance in ability much faster than others, but that just makes the process of mastering something all the less appealing. Why spend time grinding your way to a new level of a specific skill when you could start at level 1 again in a new skill and have that fun rush of discovery again?

This is part of the reason I am such a Swiss-Army developer and designer, someone able to do a little of about anything; I never accepted the need and purpose of the grind. This is all great for one’s own enjoyment of things, but it is not so much fun for others. I’ve disappointed so many professors, coaches, managers, and others who were originally impressed with how quickly I progressed in learning something new… only for them to see me crash and burn when I quickly lose interest and I had to really work on learning something.

The end result of all of this is a life and career of many starts and stops, grand ambitious beginning moves followed by withering ends, and a lot of broken promises and burnt bridges. Not to say I haven’t done some amazing things in my time, but all of these things could have been much more and been something for others to build and grow on. I would just have my fun, get bored with it once it was starting to become cumbersome and complicated, and then leave it all for someone else to work with.

But over time, I seem to have mellowed and see the value of the boring part of creativity. I think it took working with someone who was just like me to realize the ineffectiveness of my ways. This person was absolutely brilliant, could figure anything out, but was so frustrating to work with. His brilliance, his own enjoyment of his discoveries, and his intellectual adventures mattered far more to him than those people who depended on him. Then I worked with another person like him, and then another…

I started to get the point. I used to get angry, throw tantrums, and blame others for projects not going well. Part of this was my potential ADHD/ASD condition (never diagnosed as they usually don’t diagnose adults), but even more than that I just didn’t want to deal with the grind. I didn’t want to do the difficult, boring part that comes after the initial fun stage of first making something. So I was just unhappy to be put in the situation where I had to keep working on the same, boring thing over and over.

The same frustration and disappointment I was feeling towards these individuals was exactly how I was making others feel. Pot meet kettle.

Even more so, I had unresolved issues from my youth. When I was young I thought you either knew how to do something or you didn’t, and being allowed to do things involved convincing others you knew how to do something even though you didn’t. Part of this is because I was the youngest child and was placed in school early. I was always smaller, weaker, dumber, and less capable than everyone around me. I always was either told by others that I was incapable of doing something others could, or I genuinely was not capable. I always had something to prove, and I didn’t understand that you became capable through growth.

So, when I was young and tried to make games, I was told it was too difficult for me and I fought against that. When my first early games failed to become playable masterpieces right away, I figured everyone was right and shied away from it in embarrassment or I’d blame someone or something for being unfair to me (somehow, it was the computer, the programming language, or other people distracting me that was to blame, not my own short attention span).

So many things I wanted to do went that way. I would bask in the glow of being someone who can do something in the early learning steps, beaming with confidence and vigor, and then when things get difficult and the whole process stops going so well I withdraw to avoid the conclusion that I am just not capable of doing it, not because of what I know but because of who I am.

Sometimes I would then try to keep up the illusion that I was indeed capable in this a specific skill I believed I was failing in, putting up a charade of absolute ability and mastery, while not practicing or studying because that would mean admitting I wasn’t completely capable already. I did this for a lot of my career, acting like I was an absolute master of a developer and designer and not allowing any criticism of me and my projects. Often blaming others for my own failings and lack of knowledge, as in my mind being giving even the smallest amount of criticism was just the same as when I was a small child with others telling me I wasn’t capable of doing something because of who I was.

I’ve since learned, probably in the last six years, that the rising difficulty and minor setbacks in a project is not a judgement against me; that criticisms and suggestions are not a sign I am incapable and incompetent. I have learned that all of these things are tools to hone my understanding of a craft, and noticing my deficits and gaps in knowledge is a path to mastering something.

So, back to games. Why do I want to make games, now being a middle-aged, grey-haired developer who is over halfway through his career who has never been a professional game developer? There are so many indie game devs out there now. The market is awash in indie games, and most indie games only sell a few copies to family and friends.

The answer lies in my new found love of craftsmanship and the grind that comes with it, and a desire to become better at something through practice and long-term learning.

Something in me has changed. In my older age I have found a love for gradual improvement and the honing of skills. This requires focus, self-criticism, learning from others, and most importantly an appreciation for the grind and boring things.

I now care more about my ability to understand a subject in depth and to be able to effectively teach others than my own enjoyment of the learning process. You can’t effectively mentor others if you cannot explain what you know in an understandable manner; you cannot do that if you always just jump in and figure it out each time. And no matter how good you are at something, you should always be open to criticism and better ideas.

Games require grinding. They take a long time to make and you have to keep honing that little playable universe over and over to make it an enjoyable experience. It takes so many different skillsets, all of the fun skills I wanted to learn when I was young, all of which can take a lifetime to master.

Also, I do believe that game creation is my ikagai (over-commercialized term, I know), something in which I can derive a great amount of joy and purpose from. I love bringing characters and worlds to life. It brings me an immense amount of joy.

And as far as my age, most people do not start writing novels until they are middle-aged, so it can be thought of in the same way.

So, why am I creating games?

Because I can.

Because I want to.

Because it can help me grind away at all these other skills that I want to learn like art, music, writing, character design, and so many more.

Because I want to bring little universes into being that others can discover and enjoy.

Because it is a chance for me to become a craftsman at something I love.

Because it is something in which I can find others who share the same passion and whom I can from and eventually mentor.

Because it’s fun.

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