I receive an original idea every time I face an uncomfortably vague but demanding obsession, a question I didn’t know how to ask. I think about it until I do know how to ask the question, until the vague obsession becomes precise. Out comes a payoff. I can write it down and people will like it, usually (if I can convince anyone to read it).
I can’t imagine that there are a lot of people who don’t get these leading obsessions, these tractable neuroses, these itching intuitions that there is something over there that we should be trying to get to know. I think there is a difference between people, some people go after those sorts of smells, others are repelled. A lot of good work comes from people who, through circumstance or psychology, cannot ignore their difficult questions.
I don’t know what use this observation is for creative engineering work. I’ve been stuck on a simple game design problem for weeks and I’m pretty sure that’s because I never learned to direct my creativity (or, to phrase that in another way: the thing that is directing my creativity does not respect and listen to the thing that knows what problems I’m supposed to be working on right now). Something in the design is missing, shallow, but this problem.. in my mind.. it never asserts itself as one of these kinds of unarticulated question that can and must be answered. I just want to turn away. I want to do something else. Some crucial party in me is not interested. I can’t tell it it’s wrong to be disinterested. I hate this game. I know that one day I will love it again, unfortunately I love it when it needs my love the least, and I hate it when it needs my love the most. Maybe I need to divorce the concept of the game as it exists (the current build) and the vision, the game as it should exist. Terrible thing to be confused about, but it feels like that’s what’s going on.
I’ve thought this before: A finished, released game will always be a thin shadow of an experience it is alluding to, a lot of the time games make it very obvious, it’s practically explicit, I didn’t want it to be obvious, I wanted the game to be honest, just what it appears to be, and so I have to go through hell to bring the being so far forward to align with the appearance.
I receive an original idea every time I face an uncomfortably vague but demanding obsession, a question I didn’t know how to ask. I think about it until I do know how to ask the question, until the vague obsession becomes precise. Out comes a payoff. I can write it down and people will like it, usually (if I can convince anyone to read it).
I can’t imagine that there are a lot of people who don’t get these leading obsessions, these tractable neuroses, these itching intuitions that there is something over there that we should be trying to get to know. I think there is a difference between people, some people go after those sorts of smells, others are repelled. A lot of good work comes from people who, through circumstance or psychology, cannot ignore their difficult questions.
I don’t know what use this observation is for creative engineering work. I’ve been stuck on a simple game design problem for weeks and I’m pretty sure that’s because I never learned to direct my creativity (or, to phrase that in another way: the thing that is directing my creativity does not respect and listen to the thing that knows what problems I’m supposed to be working on right now). Something in the design is missing, shallow, but this problem.. in my mind.. it never asserts itself as one of these kinds of unarticulated question that can and must be answered. I just want to turn away. I want to do something else. Some crucial party in me is not interested. I can’t tell it it’s wrong to be disinterested. I hate this game. I know that one day I will love it again, unfortunately I love it when it needs my love the least, and I hate it when it needs my love the most. Maybe I need to divorce the concept of the game as it exists (the current build) and the vision, the game as it should exist. Terrible thing to be confused about, but it feels like that’s what’s going on.
I’ve thought this before: A finished, released game will always be a thin shadow of an experience it is alluding to, a lot of the time games make it very obvious, it’s practically explicit, I didn’t want it to be obvious, I wanted the game to be honest, just what it appears to be, and so I have to go through hell to bring the being so far forward to align with the appearance.