The Rest is Scary

This post is secretly about video games

It’s been three months since I published to Substack. Generally, when I hit a time wall like this you can just count on me to not pick up a hobby (or way of life?) again for maybe a year or a decade or maybe ever. But here I am, drafting away.

It hasn’t been the summer that’s stopped me. This year in Sitka has been some of the foulest summer weather I’ve experienced. I had what I like to call a San Diego Year of Rain fall on me on one of my 35 minutes strolls to work. I don’t fish anymore (another dropped hobby), so I wasn’t out on my boat all the time. And my theater rehearsals didn’t start until about when the sun showed up three weeks ago. And boy, did it show up…

It’s great to see the F/V Maverick after my time on St. Paul Island

I could also blame my lack of writing on how disrupted my life has been. Just after my last post we traveled down to see

Audrey Saiz

graduate from Oregon St. Yes, it was hectic, but also yes, it’s a perfect thing to write about. I’m a writer. My daughter earned a degree in creative writing and journalism. I cried a ton. My parents, who I haven’t seen since before COVID, were there, and my gosh that seems like an excuse to write. But that draft is still just sitting there, stewing. (Arguably, having the draft at the top of the queue sent me scurrying for the start button in Rocket League each time I signed in.)

I attended my first Pride event ever, so there was an opportunity to write about that. Imagine writing posts about coming out of the closet (metaphorically) after moving my desk back into the closet (physically). The youngest two kids were back for the summer, so I was relegated to the same home-office setup I had with peak-depression-era-Brandon and peak-COVID era Brandon. They were, remarkably, two distinct eras.

One possible entry point into an opening paragraph would be to talk about the amount of shame and guilt I felt for having 2021 feel like one of the greatest adult years of my life in spite of the utter collapse of the world around me. I mean, I can sometimes write about shame and guilt so much that I end up late to work. It’s how I landed a guest appearance on one of my favorite podcasts (episode coming in October, I think!)

I haven’t just lazing around though. Today was the end of the Indie Den Godot Jam where teams of up to three tried to create a video game in two weeks. I’ve never done anything like this before, but I was feeling a lot of angst from not being able to write when I wanted to. So I joined and found out the theme was Duck, Duck, Goose!

Duck Duck Goose is a classic children's game where a circle of children sit down in a circle while one of them walks or runs around it. They tap the head of each child in succession as they go around and say "duck" at each tap. The "ducks" are safe and can remain seated. The children in the circle are waiting to hear the word "goose" while being tapped, which begins a chase. The "goose" must tag the child that tapped their head before they run all the way around the circle and sit in their spot in the circle.

Whether you go all-in and build a virtual version of the classic children's game with a fun additional mechanic or an aesthetic twist, or you take the words literally and make a game about ducking under a big goose trying to attack you, we encourage you to be as creative as you like with this theme. The intent is to encourage an interesting variety of games, and we expect everyone's game to be different, so make it unique to you!

And, funny enough, this little project is what got me writing again. Inspired by some other community members, I started a little devlog to document what I was going through. My goal was to keep the game as simple as I had time for. I had heard so much about developers having the scope of their project bloat until they go over time and budget. I just wanted to finish! And so I did. I drew some of my art. I got a bit silly by putting some lingcod into a duck pond. I had a fucking blast.

Somehow I chose the sunniest two weeks of the year to program every day

Yesterday came, I clicked submit on my project, and then I was suddenly sad. It felt the same as the end of our Nutcracker performances, or the end of Rock of Ages. I am incredibly proud of the game I created. It’s fun and fairly bug free and it took a ton of thoughtful work and problem solving. It is the first game project I have finished in about 22 years of tinkering with the idea of game programming.

I know with the completion I’ll lose some of the contact with the online community I spent so much time with. It feels like I’ll have to go back to just me. And I know that’s not true. For one thing, I’ll have 9 hours of rehearsals over the weekends for the next month and change. But I’ve also never really been alone in my life. Just lonely. Lots.

There was a moment during development when I had a working prototype running. There were fish swimming around and I, the player, just floating around. I had a list of features I could start on next, but in that moment, it was just me and this mediocre idea of a game. Much like the little placeholder yellow bird on the screen, I felt like I was floating towards imminent doom (or at least a concussion from gargantuan goose feet). I needed to move.

But I didn’t know what was next. All of the next steps were challenging and would take learning, or relearning, with a distinct possibility of failure. Tiny teeth of failures have chewed holes in all of my hobbies, but especially game programming. They have also bitten giant chunks out of my heart and left my brain on constant high alert for the next predator to swim by. By progressing through this next level of life, I was taking a genuine risk of feeling consumed by the memory of yet another project tossed aside in frustration.

My last therapist used to challenge my by saying something that I would always parrot back at her with a slight change. Paraphrased, it went something like this:

“When you’re faced with this challenge again, you have a choice. You can push through it, or you can avoid it [and die in a fiery car crash].”

I put my hands to the keyboard and I picked a task. And then another. And then another. And I finished it. I made a goddamned video game.

This morning, players started playing my game, and some gave me feedback. From another developer, I read this: “I really like this! The concept is really creative, and the execution is honestly incredible! The artstyle gives me a real prototype vibe, and I adore it! This is awesome, good job!!”

I am not sure I’ve ever read such a sweet compliment. I definitely did not die in a fiery car crash <3

a fiery sky