Tuesday, February 9, 2010

I'm listening to The Fountain soundtrack, and I have a feeling I'll be up late tonight.

Friday, February 5, 2010

Authorness

I don't have much time to write -- life is throwing so many wonderful challenges at me recently, and it's not easy to tackle them all and keep all of my sanity (I have most of it... just not all of it).

Over the last month the Firehouse Gallery in Burlington, Vermont has been hosting a wonderful Game (Life) exhibit featuring some of the brightest and most innovative minds in the indie game development scene -- four of which came to speak at Champlain College. Each and every one of the speakers was inspiring for me in some way, and as I move into my final year -- the capstone of my education -- I know that I am ready for this. Hearing them speak about their experiences only solidified that for me, and I'm itching to get out there. I am so excited to do it.

A theme that I found throughout some of the talks was this idea of "authorness". What seems to separate movies from video games (among other things) is the idea of a "director", a sole author who controls every aspect of the vision of a piece. On a game development team, the final product ends up becoming a hodge-podge of ideas from multiple people all coalesced into a particular experience. One speaker, Jason Rohrer, emphasized this idea of a director and gave us his insight into how it is potentially detrimental to our industry to not have one.
Similarly, Jonathan Blow discussed this idea of authorness in a different context. He explained a philosophical approach to game design that focuses on discovering a system instead of authoring and shaping it to fit into a particular vision. He said that "in discovery there is nothing that kills your authorness. You are still the captain of that idea," and this concept really resonated with me. Instead of intimately creating a system to tailor and tinker into perfection, we should create the rules and see what happens; sometimes the system will give us something brilliant if we take the time to appreciate its simplicity and listen to what it's telling us. Perhaps instead of being a movie director we should be like a professor in a classroom -- put an idea out there and listen to what that idea develops into.

Heather Kelley gave me a lot of hope for my path in life. One of the greatest things I have admired about Heather is the fearless way she treks into interesting and unique game endeavors. For the Game (Life) exhibit she gave us a deeper look into the history and practices of Gamma, and the possibilities for my future exploded in my head. Her and the Kokoromi Collective have proven to me that the games industry and the culture surrounding it is expanding in so many exciting directions, and the possibility for innovation is astronomical. Again -- so excited.

There are a lot of things I could say about Randy Smith's talk (so interesting, so quick, so engaging), but the major thing I found myself taking away from it is how kickass my Champlain College education has been. I felt in awe learning about how he and his previous colleagues were some of the pioneers about how we think about game design today. He described a lot of terms that are a part of the common language we use with one another in and outside of the classroom, and he helped further my feeling of preparedness -- and hearing about his part in academic-izing game design was star-striking. Games are art, goddamnit, and I'm ready to prove that to people one of these days. I promise that I'll do whatever I can to get them to that point.

But now I feel sort of at a loss. I feel so ready to get out there and start creating games, but I don't know where I want to go. I feel incredibly lucky to have been awarded the GDC Scholarship by Champlain this year because I think it will give me an opportunity to figure this out. I cross my fingers that I can figure this all out, but if I don't, I think no matter what happens I'll have an exciting journey ahead of me.


--

On a different note, I saw one of the most amazing sights I have seen in a long long time. The sky was mostly a bright white blanket of clouds, yet clouds closer to the lake were opened up enough to see the oranges and pinks of a sunset. There was an enormous flock of crows that was coming from the north and heading into the south, and as the snow fell slowly I couldn't help but stop where I was walking -- right in the middle of a step -- to stop and watch them fly over me. I stood there for over 2 minutes watching the crows come from a white nothingness on my right and disappear into a white nothingness on my left. It looked like a scene from a painting. It was beautiful, yet ominous, and I couldn't stop watching. I waited until there were only a couple crows left, and I headed inside. I had a wonderful conversation with an old Professor of mine, and the rest of my evening was uplifting.

I wish I had a picture of it all.