FAILURE DRAMA

Ugh. This is the painful part of the blog thing. Sure I get to share my successes with an enraptured audience of dozens, and that's fun. But I'm also committed to sharing my failures.

And fail I have. All bullshit aside nobody would mistake FRONTIERS for a releasable product right now. My deadline has come and gone. Now I get to choose whether to stick to my guns and shelve the game like I threatened to back in dick-swinging March or wuss out and pretend I never made such a threat.

Okay, that's a false dilemma. A third option is to reflect on why I failed, admit I made mistakes, resolve not to make those mistakes again and remain committed to finishing the game.

Spoiler: I'm not shelving the game. As much as I'd love to be a badass and walk away, the pain of shelving it would be too much.

Missing this deadline was rough. It may be hard to see from the outside, because deadlines seem so arbitrary when they're self-imposed. But this one wasn't. It was a measured calculation. It was based on objective self-appraisal. Failing means I overestimated myself in skill or self-honesty or both.

Before I go on, yes, this is a pity party. None of this wailing and drama really helps anything. But fuck it, it's *my* pity party and I'll boo hoo hoo if I want to. If this post reads like a eulogy it's because I feel like part of me died when I missed that deadline.

I'm not even kidding.

When you try something new you have to pretend you can do it or you'd never start. 'Yeah sure I can *totally* make a game even though I never have before.' You're like a kid outlining yourself on the wall, then drawing the outline you *think* you'll fill 10 years from now. Unless you're really morbid you're going to assume you'll grow a couple of inches and keep all your limbs.

When I started this project I drew a mental outline of myself as a game developer, hoping that I would grow to fill it. It wasn't overly ambitious, but it did assume a full set of limbs. As I worked I'd fill in bits of the outline with real observations - hey, it looks like I *am* pragmatic when it comes to design and hey, it looks like I *can* make art assets quickly. Go me! It was a promising start. So promising (even intoxicating) that I stopped wondering whether I'd grow to fill this outline and started assuming I would.

That was cocky. I can see that now. I treated my goal like a reality. Doing that is like using your '10-years-from-now' outline to buy all your clothes in advance. They ain't gonna fit right.

This deadline didn't fit right. In fact very little about the past two or three months has fit right. I'm not the game developer I sincerely believed I was. It's like looking down and realizing I've been missing a leg this whole time. Fuck! No wonder these pants were loose!

So this is me tossing a rose on that imagined self's coffin and saying some final words before burying it in the ground. Goodbye. It was nice thinking I knew you, but I've got to move on. Cue rain machine and sad folk song as I walk away in slow motion, etc.

Okay. Moving on.

Deadlines

Last post: Dec 31st, 2012. What the hell happened?

Two things. First, my wife & I moved into our first house - that's part of what motivated my self-imposed Christmas deadline, knowing that I'd lose most of January to the move - and second, I got busy on the newer 'leaner' Frontiers.

Last time I posted I said I achieved my goal of a playable game by Christmas, but not without cost. Remember how Frontiers started as a Minecraft clone with a dynamic terrain engine, with survival elements built on top? Well around November I realized that if I was going to make this thing playable by Christmas, one of two things had to go - the survival elements, or the sandbox elements. Yeah, sucks huh. After a few tough nights of waffling I decided to ditch the sandbox elements. I salvaged everything else I could - the interface, interactivity engine, survival engine and art - and started over from scratch. The rest - eight painful months of development and an engine that was 80% there - I tossed in the bin.

Why not just keep working on the terrain engine if I was 80% there? Because I had a deadline. And if I didn't make that deadline I'd sworn to shelve the game permanently. Yeah, it was painful. I still feel sick when I think about how much time I spent on something people may never see. But when the alternative was giving up entirely, the choice was clear.

This is why deadlines matter - they motivate the really tough decision. Of course, you have to take your deadlines seriously, and when you're a one man shop that means taking yourself seriously. I knew I wasn't playing around - I really meant to drop the whole project if I didn't have a playable game by Christmas. If I thought for an instant that I'd let myself off the hook, I'd still be tweaking the terrain engine for an unplayable game.

My next deadline is in March- my goal is to have a releasable game by then. Not perfectly balanced, not totally finished, but releasable. If I can't pull that off, I'm shelving it.

Motivation is Steam Powered, Not Solar Powered

Do you ever try to solve a small problem and end up solving a big problem along the way? I love it when that happens.

About four months ago a cloud of doom fell on my project, one more potent than your typical moment of doubt. For over a week I felt this hunch that I'd never finish the game. I couldn't put my finger on why I felt that way, I just felt it, deep down in my bones, and it was sapping my will to continue.

I hate sourceless anxiety, so for the next few days I paid close attention to when the feeling would strike. I found it hit me hardest when dealing with to-do lists - writing them, checking off completed items, disposing of them - basically whenever I touched the wretched things.

Yeah. To-do lists. That threw me for a loop. It was like finding out that my shoes were to blame, or my stylus. They're so... benign.

But like any useful tool, to-do lists have rules of operation. And it turns out I was breaking them. Oh I followed the basic rules well enough, we all know them:

• Don't list tasks unless they're specific and concrete
• Don't list tasks you can't finish by the end of the day
• Don't start working until your to-do list is finished
• Don't stop working until you've finished every task

But there's another rule I didn't follow, a golden rule, and that's what summoned my cloud of doom:

• When you've finished the tasks on your list, STOP WORKING.

I said STOP WORKING. Pencils down.

If you're like me, your first thought is 'Fuck off, you're crazy.' If you're motivated, you're supposed to keep working, right? You'd be a fool not to use that energy. Who knows if you'll feel the same way tomorrow? It's use it or lose it. For as long as I can remember, this is how I've conceptualized motivation - these days I call it solar-powered motivation. When the sun's out, keep going. Because you're SOL when it's not out, and you can't control the weather.

Well, it turns out this was my big problem. And thanks to my little to-do list problem, I was lucky enough to discover that motivation is steam powered, not solar powered.

Backing up a minute, how exactly was my doom cloud summoned? Well, how about some gratuitous visual aids to demonstrate?

Every night I went to sleep feeling like crap. And every morning it felt like I was waking up to a crime scene. All because I assumed it was 'wasteful' not to work when I felt motivated. This cycle chewed up any memory of what I'd accomplished during the day and left only the bitter aftertaste of what I hadn't accomplished while pressing forward without a to-do list. Over time that dark cloud started to infect the whole cycle.

When I realized what was happening, I decided to try stopping after my last task. I really didn't like the idea of wasting my motivation, but I figured I couldn't possibly make things worse, and something had to change.

This was the result:

Ah. Much better. (Result is in no way exaggerated to support my point.)

The expected result was that I avoided going to bed in a funk. The unexpected result was that my motivation actually built up pressure during my downtime, and by the next morning I was rearing to go. Quite the opposite of use it or lose it - by letting the pressure build, I gained more momentum. Sort of like a steam engine, right?

That was four months ago. So far the result hasn't varied. Every time I've slipped and worked past my to-do list, I've regretted it. In contrast, I haven't once regretted stopping while I was ahead.

At this point you might be wondering why I bother with terms like steam powered and solar powered in the first place. If we're honest, the analogies are weak the artificial boundary between the two reeks of the oversimplified bullshit you find in self-help books. Try the Steam Powered Motivation™method for only three easy installments of $19.95 - learn to let go of your inner solar panel.

Never underestimate how useful a quick mantra can be when trying to break an old habit, even a silly one. Whenever I feel anxious at the thought of wasting my motivation by stopping - and I still do, every time, though it's getting easier - I need only repeat steam powered, not solar powered to remind myself of everything I just covered here. Sometimes the dumber part of your brain needs to literally be told what's happening before it will relax.

I can't believe I got this far without mentioning steampunk. Why not close with another gratuitious visual?

Next post: I'll actually tell you about the game I'm making. Honest.

It's Not Paranoia If You're Really Out to Get You

As mythical curses go, Lycanthropy shouldn't rate above an inconvenience. Ask anyone with half a brain how they'd deal with it, and they'll say the same thing: on the night of the full moon, go someplace isolated and chain yourself to a wall. Voila, problem solved.

Odysseus took the same approach when he encountered the sirens. He heard their call and knew he would be too weak to resist, so he ordered his men to tie him to a mast. He had the sense to treat his future self as an adversary to outwit, not an equal to bargain with.

When you can predict your behavior and you know your trigger, any weakness is manageable.

But first you have to admit that you're weak. Truly weak. It's harder than it sounds.

I work from home - VFX work, when I'm not chipping away at my game projects. Sometimes I'll work onsite for a few weeks, but otherwise I enjoy silence, privacy and freedom. I can wake up when I want and sleep when I want. I can watch a movie after breakfast, take a nap after lunch, then eat cake for dinner. I'm not gonna lie, it's pretty cool.

What do I do with all this freedom? I get up at 6 or 7 in the morning, eat breakfast, and start working. And I don't stop working until dinner (or cake), sometimes later if the job demands. It's a strict routine.

I learned the hard way that if I break routine, even for a day or two, it triggers my transformation. I become the Beast. You know the Beast. He's the lazy bastard that procrastinates on the internet. The one that can't stay focused. The one that nearly got me fired because he wouldn't stop playing Minecraft long enough to submit a shot that I should have finished the day before. (True story.) The lazy bastard doesn't give a hoot about my career or my dreams. Sometimes I can't believe we're related.

When I meet people who have a hard time working from home, it's usually for the same reason: they think they should be able to control their beast.

Note that I didn't say they think they can control their beast - they know they can't. Most are self-aware enough to list their faults with a laugh, stuff like:

• I'm distractible
• I have no self-discipline
• I can't stop watching TV while I work
• I can't stop browsing the internet while I work
• I use friends as an excuse to avoid work
• I can't stop eating cake for dinner

All problematic, sure, but they leave out the one that really counts:

• I indulge in the fantasy that a good person can always control their behavior in the moment if they try hard enough.

Emphasis on fantasy.

This is why Lycanthropy is a curse to be feared and not merely an inconvenience. Some idiot always thinks they're strong enough to beat the full moon. Don't indulge in that fantasy. Save a peasant. Chain yourself up.

Are you distractible? Clear your working space of distractions. Are you using your friends as an excuse to avoid work? Tell them about your problem and ask them to help you stop. Are you browsing the internet? Unplug the internet. Do you need the internet for your job? Block your favorite sites.

Are you irritated with these suggestions yet? You should be - they're horribly condescending. I feel like telling myself to fuck off.

I will feel that irritation until the day I die, the way someone raised Catholic still fears hell long after becoming an atheist. I want to shout: If it were that simple, I'd be doing it already.

What makes it so complicated?

I'm always tempted to say 'the very qualities I'm trying to compensate for,' because come on, that's a great excuse. But it's rarely the case. I've witnessed this with my own eyes - a motivated person asks a circle of friends for solutions to these problems, and the instant someone drags out those chains, the willpower just drains out of their eyes. They were ready to do anything except take that critical step.

No. The truth is, it isn't complicated. It's painful.

Deep down, all the way down where you keep your most sacred beliefs about your value as a human being, you feel you shouldn't have to do chain yourself up. Maybe everyone but you, but not you. That's the fantasy. That deeper part of you believes using those chains admits of a weakness so profound that you could never laugh it off like you do the others. Oh, we can pretend to laugh it off - we'll joke around and say 'oh man, I just can't stop myself, ha ha, isn't that funny.' But to truly accept that you can't stop yourself, that no matter how hard you try you really can't stop, that stings. It really does.

I don't know where this fantasy of self control comes from, or what makes it so raw. I have my suspicions - maybe it originated with the Cartesian concept of the perfectly revealed mind. Or maybe the Christian concepts of sin and free will. Or maybe it's more universal. Who knows.

Whatever the cause, we flinch when it's threatened and fall back on the dull ache that we know: the paralysis and self-loathing of holding ourselves to a literally fantastical standard. A dull ache that will throb for the rest of your life if you let it.

This is getting a little dark. What were we talking about? Working from home?

Here's my point. Rip off the fantasy like a band-aid. Yes it hurts, but you can handle it. Stop thinking of yourself as one person who can control their behavior and start thinking of yourself as two: one who can, and the lazy beast.

Then stop depending on the beast to do the right thing, and stop beating yourself up when he doesn't. Because he can't, by definition. Just like our mythical werewolf, at the point when you're most in need of self-control, you have already lost whatever qualities formally enabled you to do control yourself. If this weren't the case, you wouldn't have a problem to begin with, right?

Right.

Do this and I promise you, all those irritating 'simple' solutions will start sounding a whole lot simpler.

Now. Time for cake.