Collapsing The Possibility Space

Image: Still from Monarch Black, Matt Schell 2018

I have no idea what I’m doing and it’s super uncomfortable. I go through phases of my life where I’m extremely goal directed. I pick something, like say making a video game on my own, or short films, or some project and push hard toward it. This is when I’m my most comfortable, I know what I should do with my time and I have a plan. And then there are moments that arrive where those goals shift or disappear and I don’t know what I want to be doing. I’m in one of those right now to an extent. I think it’s part of the reason why I’m writing so much. Trying to figure it out. Turning ideas over. I have my game project Monarch Black which I am committed to finishing, though to be honest not actively working on now. I’ve told myself I won’t start large new projects until I finish, but it’s been a year since I stopped actively working on it. A bad place to be. I will finish but when is a big question mark. I know better than to give up, though maybe that is unwise. It will not be as good as I wanted it to be (surprise) and I guess that’s the major source of resistance.

Finishing work is the process of collapsing the possibility space. When work is unfinished it’s still open and might surprise us by turning into (gasp) THE BEST THING EVER. But as we get closer to the end the passage narrows and what the final thing will be starts to become visible. The possibility of it being the best thing ever diminishes. We can see that it will be a thing, yes, and good if we’re lucky, but not our masterpiece. The ego does not like this at all. As long as I have not finished my first game there is always the possibility that I am a secret genius. Finishing something removes that possibility. Letting go of that, it turns out, is hard. I’ve always had a hard time finishing things. I know this doesn’t make me special, but it’s a problem I wrestle with. I think after a year’s pause with Monarch Black I’m getting to the place where I have some distance to just say “It will be a thing that will be OK and done and that’s good enough.” But it hasn’t been easier getting here. And until I’m back in the harness actively pulling towards the finish then I can’t really claim that I’ve accepted that. I think I’m getting closer.

The problem with Monarch Black for me lies in the game design. Game design is a discipline I care about a lot. It’s unique to games and in my mind probably the hardest to do well. I think many of us who get involved in making games, because we like to play them, secretly think we will naturally be good designers. Facing the fact that this is not the case is super humbling. The problem, as I see it currently is that I decided to be a genius and do a flying, six degrees of freedom, procedural shooter which doesn’t directly copy any games I’m personally aware of. How original! How brilliant! The problem is this means I am completely out to sea design wise and have nothing to draw on directly. I can’t compare my game to say, all the Mario games and ask, are my controls as good? I’ve had to cobble together a set of design tropes to steal from and none of them directly fit or work well together. The result feels mushy, unclear and unfocused design wise. This is such a hard thing to accept and move past for me. I’ve flirted with just completely throwing out the core game play and making it a pretty procedural exploration game without combat, for example. This would solve one problem but create others. I still don’t have answers to these questions.

I tell myself a lot that I should love the process not the product. I really believe it, but also find it hard to apply. I’ve learned so much during the making of MB and during that time. It’s huge. But that also is painful in it’s own way because it leads to temptation to start again. It’s also humbling that I know better than this. I know, very strongly, that attempting big long projects for your first project is a bad idea. Yet here I am four years in. As a teacher I am great at giving advice and terrible at listening to it. It’s super embarrassing. I’m circling around though and getting closer. Talking about this stuff publicly is a good way to get it out of my head, maybe. I hope so. At this point in my life I at least have a strong enough stomach to sit with these feelings, recognize them and not give up or be totally derailed. I think this is maybe the start of maturity or wisdom when it comes to creative work, and it only comes from having been here again and again. It still doesn’t get much easier.