Choosing Tenby

I’m a perpetual “want it all”. In high school I didn’t want to cut down any subjects, not that I was amazing at all of them, not by any means, but I hated the idea of losing the possibility of learning about things. I’ve had that same attitude ever since. It took me three gap years in between school and university to decide on what I wanted to do. Some would say that I’m lucky to have so many interests. I would say that I’m still angry with existence for being finite.

Since deciding to pursue game design as a career option, I’ve been hedging my bets, working on many different ideas and taking them all variously to different stages of the design process. I’ve been headlong into one game and convinced it was the game I should get serious about, only to worry that this or that aspect of it wasn’t working the way I intended, or that it didn’t support the ethos that I would like the company to represent, or for another hundred other reasons. I don’t mean to diminish the reality that all of those considerations are very important, and not only do I want a solid game to take to market, but also to have a game that represents a forward direction, that does indeed represent the values I would like to share. I worried however, that whatever game I might bring to the fore would dictate where expectations of my next game would lead, should that game be successful. Take any successful brand you can think of, even in the board gaming world, there is some level of expectation that a pattern will be fulfilled. And if that pattern isn’t followed, then there better be a damn good reason as to why!

It may be obvious that I can get a little introspective at times. I wouldn’t claim to be vain as a person, but to ignore the perspective of a prospective audience also feels naive. I don’t have the business mind of a worldly producer, and I’m not trying to make a game with a particular audience in mind, but I do want the first game I make to indicate some sense of a forward direction. I want to set up an expectation of a general theme, something that anyone can recognise and remember.

Easy, right?

I hate reducing options, no matter how necessary it might be. I love all of the things I create. Well, the ones that get through the initial meat grinder at least. I guess it’s the problem of having a lot of things to say, but not knowing the order in which to say them. Which ideas are most relevant to now? Which ideas will be explored in the next year and therefore be done by the time it gets to market? The list of questions could go on and on.

I remember reading once that Picasso said he never read reviews. Probably healthy! Psychology aside, I like coming back to this remembrance, because it cuts through something I always get swept up in. Don’t make what you think people will like. Make what you would like to be made. It’s not a new sentiment by a long stretch, but I do seem to keep on forgetting.

In this spirit, it’s time to commit to one game. To release worry on how it will be received and what expectations it sets. To commit to taking the plunge and seeing where the winds blow, rather than reading the meteorological charts for the next five years and predicting the weather to the nth degree. In this spirit, I’m settling on a project I’ve been dabbling with since February. Tenby.

More to come, but I’m as excited as I am terrified about the notion of committing my efforts, and in a quite real sense my future, on one idea.

Thanks for reading, and happy gaming.