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!