It’s been an interesting couple of weeks. Issues at work, coupled with a weekend with people who I’ve known forever and really, really care about, have just made me really think about what I want out of life, work, and what makes me happy.

Obviously, the thoughts have ranged the happy-miserable spectrum, but for a change, I’ll focus on the positive.

I love making games. I love the creative process, and I love designing things. The high concept phase is obviously fun – are we going to make a game about eating ice cream, or giant robotic gorillas? Usually, it’s relatively constrained, but really, this is where the really wild ideas come from – can we actually make a compelling game about ice-cream eating robotic gorillas? Wouldn’t it be weird if we could?

Still, that gives way to a more detail-oriented process. Once the concept is found, it’s a matter of trying to figure out what it’d actually be in practice. This is a very, “What if?” sort of process, but not an unfocused one. To me, this is where a designer really shines, because anyone can find the obvious answers – it takes hard work and some measure of creative talent to find the odd solutions, the ones that really truly explore the core of the idea, and turn it into something that’s got the potential to be fun.

After that, another drill-down into the ideas – here’s where the weird little details emerge – the aspects of the game’s personality. In the same way that while writing a novel, the characters almost autonomously act without input from the author, this part of the process is where you find what the game has developed. It’s often surprising – the details simply emerge from the decisions you’ve made before and really fundamentally internalized.

Once the drill-down’s complete, it’s almost as though the scale is reversed, as the design goes out to the rest of the team. Engineers have to worry about implmentation, artists have to figure out the visual style of both the large scale, and the individual items in the world. This is where the design process becomes really large-scale collaborative in a way that encompasses every aspect of game development. Other people in varied disciplines add their input on how a particular aspect of the game might function, or how it might be implmented more efficiently. Obviously, many of these people have been involved in the process at every stage, but this is really the first time parts of the design “go public.”

A designer, in some sense, has to be fearless. Showing the team an idea that you’ve worked on for a week, or a month, or longer, is scary. People tear into it, find the holes, wonder about the implementation, the resources that are available, and begin to cut away at it. Sometimes, the response is good, sometimes it’s not. When you’ve got a good team, the end product is always stronger.

A good designer has no ego. Good ideas come from everywhere, and it’s a good designer’s job to harness that energy and turn it into something positive. Finding someone who’s excited about a concept, and really wants to make it happen is a happy moment. Sometimes, the idea emerges, fully formed and considered, nigh-ready for implementation. Other times, the idea comes out raw, and the person may have little experience taking that idea and shaping it.

Teaching someone to design, rather than simply speculate, is a really satisfying process. What is the core of the idea? How does this work with the rest of the game? How do you think a player will interact with this? What is necessary to create the feeling you’re looking for? Being able to quantify these things, to look at an idea critically, and where appropriate, mock it up or prototype it is so immensely fun and satisfying, I can think of few other things I’d rather spend my time doing.

Then, there’s watching the game come to life. Little bits of art, animation, gameplay… all functioning together – creating weird little moments where what’s on screen matches the vision in your head – or better yet, surprises you. Being surprised by a game you know every little detail of is … well, it’s genuinely surprising. It’s happened a couple times, simply because systems that are in place are complex enough that they’re generally not predictable. So, when Seaman asks “Do you like your job?” at just the right moment, as you’re having a conversation in real life about work… what other medium can do that? Serendipity, sure, but it’s so eerie, so perfect, and something that’s really unique to videogames.

I love it. I can hardly imagine doing anything else but building giant robots and taking over the world.