In my experience, world design is not a linear process. In fact, Karinth's design has been a highly iterative non-sequential onion-building over the course of many years.
There are many highly regarded authorities on the subject who have published books that many find good guideposts - Richard Bartle, Jessica Mulligan, Chris Crawford and Andrew Rollings are four authors whose books I keep within arms' reach. Some tend to deal in the hypothetical and stratospheric; others are almost step-by-step advisories - no one condition is going to be all that is needed at any given juncture.
For the patient, ground zero begins with a backstory and theme and spirals outward, becoming more visible and tangible as the design matures - for the impatient, it's often more rewarding to reverse-engineer a beloved game, second guessing what the author has used as his design guideline.
The temptation is there for the new designer to pay homage to a beloved game by following in its footsteps. This is also known as plagiarism. Don't do it. If you're a creative sort, no other game will truly fulfill your game vision anyway, and you should focus your talents on your own originality. If you're not a creative sort, you may find yourself mired in a constant muck of frustration and micromanagement.
More later... dinner calls via cat whispers.
Wednesday, March 23, 2005
Monday, March 14, 2005
Moving Right Along...
Someone asked me the other day what -exactly- do I do at Karinth. I started to answer, then found myself stopped dead in my tracks. I don't really know.
I don't code - so I'm not a coder - coders are the folks who string the bits and bytes together to make everything happen. Most certainly I don't do that. I've looked at the code - the stacks of files and miles of intricately indented shorthand arcanerie that makes the place work. Once in awhile I'll go in and very tentatively poke at something to fix a message's text or color. But I most certainly don't code.
I don't build - so I'm not a builder - builders are the ones who pull together room descriptions, item descriptions, mob descriptions, actions like room programs and the like, creating the environments that the player experiences directly. Well, I do a small bit of that, but I don't do it often or nearly as well as someone who does it full-time. So that's not it...
So what do I do...
I think I'm a weaver. An air traffic controller. A worrier. A hand-wringer, brow-furrower, pacer.
I line up little blocks of functionality on colored Post-Its, rearrange and rearrange until the order of operations looks perfect, and pray the wind doesn't kick up. I remind people what it is that's current on the list, what's next on the list, what just got finished on the list, what they asked me to remind them from the list. I pore over dozens of game design books and reference guides, looking for cautionary tales and answers, scratch my head, and bookmark the instances. I lurk through forums while burning barrels of midnight oil, reading tales of woe posted by other game designers, nod sagely and reserve the tale for future use as applicable. I wake up from a cat-nap and race to my desk, bearing the resolution to a niggling functionality problem as rapidly as my feet will stumble, praying that it will not evaporate into the dust of forgetfulness before I can scribble it down. I step bravely between flailing fists and angry glares, and calm disputes between two volunteers as sleep-deprived and tense as I, applying nods of wisdom and soothing diplomatic faux-pas while sorting out the boundaries of tasks and areas.
So what do I do...
I think I'm a cheerleader of sorts, spreading encouragement and waving electronic pompoms while doing digital cartwheels in the office suites conference room, reminding staff that they are doing a fantastic job and that both their efforts and their results are priceless. I listen and encourage with an open mind while a youngster debates the wisdom of pursuing the girl in his History class whose boyfriend is mean to her, smile to myself as he makes up his mind, dance with him when he comes back the next day and, white-knight-on-horse, he's saved the damsel and is taking her for pizza. I revel in the success of aced midterms and finals, nudge the younger ones away from the computer and to books ("the game will still be here after biology homework - git!") and bedtimes, keeping a line of quiet you-can-do-this running all the while. I e-check the fever when the real mommy is a thousand miles from the dorm, and hope the campus clinic isn't closed at this hour. I line-dance with them over aced finals. I urge them on toward the next big hurdle. These are volunteers, young for the most part, splitting away chunks of precious youth and applying them to our success. I am grateful.
So what do I do...
Well, for sure I'm not a coder!
I don't code - so I'm not a coder - coders are the folks who string the bits and bytes together to make everything happen. Most certainly I don't do that. I've looked at the code - the stacks of files and miles of intricately indented shorthand arcanerie that makes the place work. Once in awhile I'll go in and very tentatively poke at something to fix a message's text or color. But I most certainly don't code.
I don't build - so I'm not a builder - builders are the ones who pull together room descriptions, item descriptions, mob descriptions, actions like room programs and the like, creating the environments that the player experiences directly. Well, I do a small bit of that, but I don't do it often or nearly as well as someone who does it full-time. So that's not it...
So what do I do...
I think I'm a weaver. An air traffic controller. A worrier. A hand-wringer, brow-furrower, pacer.
I line up little blocks of functionality on colored Post-Its, rearrange and rearrange until the order of operations looks perfect, and pray the wind doesn't kick up. I remind people what it is that's current on the list, what's next on the list, what just got finished on the list, what they asked me to remind them from the list. I pore over dozens of game design books and reference guides, looking for cautionary tales and answers, scratch my head, and bookmark the instances. I lurk through forums while burning barrels of midnight oil, reading tales of woe posted by other game designers, nod sagely and reserve the tale for future use as applicable. I wake up from a cat-nap and race to my desk, bearing the resolution to a niggling functionality problem as rapidly as my feet will stumble, praying that it will not evaporate into the dust of forgetfulness before I can scribble it down. I step bravely between flailing fists and angry glares, and calm disputes between two volunteers as sleep-deprived and tense as I, applying nods of wisdom and soothing diplomatic faux-pas while sorting out the boundaries of tasks and areas.
So what do I do...
I think I'm a cheerleader of sorts, spreading encouragement and waving electronic pompoms while doing digital cartwheels in the office suites conference room, reminding staff that they are doing a fantastic job and that both their efforts and their results are priceless. I listen and encourage with an open mind while a youngster debates the wisdom of pursuing the girl in his History class whose boyfriend is mean to her, smile to myself as he makes up his mind, dance with him when he comes back the next day and, white-knight-on-horse, he's saved the damsel and is taking her for pizza. I revel in the success of aced midterms and finals, nudge the younger ones away from the computer and to books ("the game will still be here after biology homework - git!") and bedtimes, keeping a line of quiet you-can-do-this running all the while. I e-check the fever when the real mommy is a thousand miles from the dorm, and hope the campus clinic isn't closed at this hour. I line-dance with them over aced finals. I urge them on toward the next big hurdle. These are volunteers, young for the most part, splitting away chunks of precious youth and applying them to our success. I am grateful.
So what do I do...
Well, for sure I'm not a coder!
Saturday, March 05, 2005
Blown Away
Last night I was blown away when I looked at our game ratings and saw we were in the #3 position at MudMagic - I was so jazzed I set the game to double experience for a few hours.
Not long after that, I looked again, and we'd hit the #2 position at MudMagic - another first. So I put up Triple experience for the weekend.
This afternoon, I looked and we were in the number one slot at MudMagic ...
>speechless<
Not long after that, I looked again, and we'd hit the #2 position at MudMagic - another first. So I put up Triple experience for the weekend.
This afternoon, I looked and we were in the number one slot at MudMagic ...
>speechless<
Friday, March 04, 2005
What's Next
There's a strange feeling when standing at the peak of a mountain. No steps lead up (unless you're one of those transcendent souls who ascend a heavenly stairway accompanied by an angelic choir). Unless you've brought a stepladder with you, you're as high as you can climb, and what earthly sense does it make to bring a three-foot high stepstool to the top of Mt Everest?
So what's next?
I need a javascript fluent soul willing to work for free and unlimited digital coffee. Said individual must be prepared to take a handful of wild ideas which will likely change two or three times before completed, form a program around then and make them work on the website. The faint of heart need not apply.
Once said javascript guru steps forward and makes him/her/itself known, we shall begin to construct the makings of a reference manual for the website. If I solo this one, I should have it done by June of 2009 or so, assuming I don't take too many coffee breaks. (pun intended)
Interested? Willing to work for free? Capable of dealing with a fast-paced but fun situation? Let me know. Send me an email to here and i shall respond immediately or sooner.
So what's next?
I need a javascript fluent soul willing to work for free and unlimited digital coffee. Said individual must be prepared to take a handful of wild ideas which will likely change two or three times before completed, form a program around then and make them work on the website. The faint of heart need not apply.
Once said javascript guru steps forward and makes him/her/itself known, we shall begin to construct the makings of a reference manual for the website. If I solo this one, I should have it done by June of 2009 or so, assuming I don't take too many coffee breaks. (pun intended)
Interested? Willing to work for free? Capable of dealing with a fast-paced but fun situation? Let me know. Send me an email to here and i shall respond immediately or sooner.
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