The older I get, the more abandoned game projects I leave in my wake. During the past fifteen years I’ve started work on dozens of video games and – if you ignore this trifle – failed to finish every single one of them. Am I proud of this record? Of course not. The thought that the fruits of so much effort – so much reflection and experimentation – are now gathering dust on forgotten hard drives, cuts me to the quick every time I think about it.
My excuse for this woeful pattern of behaviour is not especially original. Like amateur coders the world over, I’ve a habit of shelving projects when Real Life gets in the way, when a thorny technical problem retards progress, or when another more interesting game idea pops into my head. Alternatively, I lose focus and/or momentum once the programming problems are behind me, and only the donkey-work – UI design, level design, testing… – remains.
Although the vast majority of my unfinished creations have been conjured up with the help of the magic wand that is GameMaker, I recently stumbled on a folder on an old HD that reminded me my game dev journey actually began in 2009 with Adventure Game Studio.
All that remains of project #1 – ‘that book game’ – is a collection of memory-stirring assets. In essence it was going to be a compendium of literary mini-games. Each level was inspired by a different novel and quite literally built from that novel. Some levels like the Tales of King Arthur one…
…and the One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich one…
….were distinctly puzzle-like.
Others such as challenges inspired by The 39 Steps…
and The Day of the Triffids…
…were arcade or tactical in character.
The jpeg remnants that decorate this post bring back emotions as well as more prosaic memories. When you’ve been living next to a spiky border fence for the best part of thirty years, how exciting – how intoxicating – it is to finally vault that fence and see, from a new perspective, a world you know well.
While I know I’ll probably never experience quite that thrill again, I’m happy to say I still get a buzz from testing a new bit of handmade code and discovering it works exactly as intended. The thought that coding – even when inexpertly done – can produce pleasure makes the fact that I’ve ‘squandered’ weeks months of my life programming games that will never be finished, or played by anyone other than myself, that bit easier to bear.
Keep trying!!
A game is still running online to which I contributed code 32 years ago. I’ve changed industries with my professional software engineering and other work.
Other people change the world in other ways. For instance, I know of some chap who mastered his craft, built up over many years a large online following, and still delights, entertains, informs and influences them to this day.
I’ll keep coming here, to read his wisdom.
Hear, hear!
None of us are one-trick ponies at heart. (I’m pretty sure I can do at least two things well.) I’ve tried many others. Some I’ve been successful at, others very much not. Many of the things I enjoy don’t get the time devoted to them that I would like.
I have to remind myself that the things I have not accomplished in no way subtract from the things I have. I may get to those other things some day, but I have to be ok if I do not.
I worked on Inkquest at Lionhead which was a kind of adventure game with wordplay.
And even though i’ve made games for 25 years, I still have a F1 management game i’ve wanted to make, sitting on a hard drive somewhere for the last 15 years i think.
Maybe when i retire!
I too have a few folders of in-development shame (a cricket dressing room psychological rhythm game! A 1v1 WEGO survivalist manhunt! A massively multiplayer recreation of Radiohead’s Pyramid Song video clip, where you create and unearth alien languages!). And I can only echo what cederic and Jer say above, Tim: your other outstanding achievements should tell you that there is, in fact, no “shame” in leaving other pursuits to occasionally fall by the wayside.
Having said that, from time to time I still think about Guy Fawkes game you were making, and I’m still slightly disappointed that something publicly playable never saw the light of day!