Postmortem

When I hit submit on Empedocles' Bones, I was proud of the work I had done. I don't think I fully realized, however, that people would actually, really be seeing what we had made. It had totally missed me just what of myself I was putting out there! I never fully accepted releasing my text-heavy game meant they were going to read my writing or engage with its ideas. At most, I thought, it would be swallowed whole like a snake devours an egg, and I'd receive a number telling me how good to feel about myself. So when people's comments revealed that they could indeed,see all the specific things I did, I immediately felt vulnerable. I'm extra fortunate, therefore, that the reception has been so positive. Thank you so much to everyone who has played Empedocles' Bones and left such thoughtful and encouraging comments. I'm honored that anyone has found personal meaning in something I've made.

But regarding the development process, Empedocles' Bones feels like a mixed success. Some parts feel like they were milestones, while others barely feel like victories at all. Here are my feelings about it.

I often have a hard time finishing projects, out of fear that I won't be able to produce something that lives up to my standards. The generous term for the cause would be "perfectionism", but I think it's more valuable to understand this as insecurity, because at this point it's unmistakably bound up with my sense of self-worth. If I can't produce at a certain level, it feels like I've hit an irreversible personal fail state, proving that I am, indeed, worth nothing. I know that's far from the truth, and I do actively work on trying to let go of it, but nevertheless that fear lives deep in my psyche and is almost always present, bubbling up to the surface whenever I attempt anything that can be evaluated (rightly or not) in terms of good and bad.

I think game jams are good for me. Modest time limits encourage me to think smaller, to go into a project knowing I will share it in an imperfect state, and to accept that. It forces me to ask "what can I do in this time", tally up my options, and realize it's not very much. What kind of art can I make? What do I have to divert my effort away from if I want to leave time for polish? Compromise is an invaluable skill to learn when you're the type of person who thinks you can do it all, if you just put in enough time and effort.

I'm most content with the first half of the jam. I floated the idea for EB to Ruune around the start date: a serious of classification tasks that progressively challenged the utility of binaries. I wasn't excited about it yet, but they helped me feel we had something good enough to run with. My plan was to sketch out a rough draft of the script in the first four or five days, then spend the rest of week one making placeholder assets and implementing the controls and script. I'd have a fully playable prototype by day 7, and then make day 8 a rest day. A modest, responsible start. Then I could spend the remaining time revising the script, making new sprites, and tightening up the UI, and if I didn't finish in time, I'd still have a finished product to submit.

The script materialized rapidly thanks to Ruune, who provided support in the form of feedback and conversation, but also created concept art that really helped solidify the game's direction. The focus of the third act, the revisited dragon question, was a direct response to having a sweet picture of a dragon and wanting to lean into it more. I downsized from my original vision of 8 monsters to 5 to make room for the dragon sequence, which meant less art to make. And the placeholder art I was using was simpler, about half the "resolution". You could say that the final draft uses 2x2 sprites, and the rough draft used 1x1, with the intention of ultimately having 8x8 ones. The time I allotted myself proved sufficient to produce these graphics, and to learn Bitsy well enough to execute the presentation and structure I wanted, without having to push myself in the first week. I felt proud of the work I had done and the way in which I had done it, gentle on myself, and humble. I liked it for what it was, and I would have been more than comfortable releasing it in that state.

I'm less content with the second half. 

By the time my day of rest was finished, I had become convinced that I had a great idea, that it was artistically viable, was an novel use of the Bitsy medium, and had intelligent theming that was coming from a place of sincere expression. It would earn me the praise and renown needed to affirm my fragile sense of self - but only if I got it right.

My process became difficult immediately. I had hoped to start editing the script immediately after my break. Writing, however, is one of the main ways of expressing intelligence that won me praise from adults as a child, which means it's now perhaps the easiest way to trigger my perfectionistic anxiety. Editing is even worse, because it means taking a sober look at my work and evaluating it, and engaging with the ways in which it falls short of my standards. I was unable to commit my attention at all that day, and accomplished nothing. I decided that I would instead update the UI and revisit the script later.

UI revision proved far less stressful, and thus more fruitful. I was able to mostly finish what I wanted to that day, replacing a simple rectangular border with something with more detail and personality. But it was a bittersweet victory, because perfectionist mode had kicked in, and whereas before I could settle for 'good enough for now', I was now concerned with precisely tweaking every detail ad infinitum. I wanted everything just so. To some extent, maybe, this was the result of encroaching time constraints. 'Good enough for now' is easier to say when I know I'll have time to improve it later. When I don't, I have to be able to say 'good enough, period', which is so much scarier to commit to. In theory I could still have revised again, but my fear was that if it wasn't up to snuff by the jam's official end, when people were most likely to look at it, it wouldn't get the traction needed for the emotional payoff I wanted. And this mindset, I think, this fear, was more to blame than the time constraints.

Updating the art went similarly to the UI revisions. I do think it was the right call to settle on "2x2" monster sprites instead of "8x8" ones, both in terms of time management and creating a more memorable aesthetic. But with only a couple days left, and any awareness of the difficulties of editing, it felt like the only option. It never occurred to me keep the original monster art. Maybe if I had done so, the script would have gotten the intensive care I had wanted to give it. But I also might have spent that day dithering instead, too nervous to confront my writing. So for now, I think it pays for me to focus on finishing what causes me the least stress first.

By then, too, it was clear that I was stressed. I was fixating on my work, and while Dyl was able and willing to show great patience and understanding in giving me the space and support I needed to produce in the capacity I felt necessary, it felt bad. I felt guilty for focusing my attention so singularly on development to the exclusion of my romantic and emotional lives, and I'm not sure I was even enjoying the work. The last three or four days of the jam were a slog.

When I finally did finish rewriting the script, I think, on the last night of the jam, I was more relieved than excited. I left myself only just enough time to get the rewrites done, and had to stay up late the last two or three nights to keep pace. I didn't leave myself enough time to let the changes sit with me or even to play through the game with the new script to understand how it felt in context. I realize that's not unusual for jams, but it still bummed me out. Partly, I think I could have avoided it by scoping more responsibly; even if the final filled in some important gaps, it struck me as unnecessarily long and clunky, and unbalanced in pacing, at least on paper. But more importantly, I think, I was just too invested in the reception. The emotional climax of the first draft came out unbidden while I was having a moment. The second draft, by contrast, was forced. I wanted it to be resonant, and I reckon most of the time I put into editing was spent trying to figure out how to effect that resonance when the feeling expressed was no longer at hand. The last section I rewrote was the boundary removal scene, and it took me ages, because I couldn't figure out how to make it honest, even, let alone poignant. In the end I threw my hands up and wrote what felt like an admission of defeat. I'm still not sure how well it worked - I barely remember what I said. It was very late, and I needed to finish up and submit.

I don't want to give the impression that I feel negatively about this experience. I think it was a very important one for me, I learned some important lessons about process, I got to see parts of my brain in motion with new clarity, and in the end, I made something that I'm proud of and that others seem to have enjoyed. I'm grateful to have had the opportunity to make Empedocles' Bones and share it with an audience that was willing to be receptive. But I think it's important for me to document my feelings of dissatisfaction, lest I forget them and repeat the mistakes that brought them about in the first place. It's important to document the parts of the experience that brought me joy, too, for much the same reason! But I've already written my reflections in this way, and I think I'd better follow my own advice and accept that I might have written an imperfect postmortem instead of burdening myself with with another revision. I'll have to write my next postmortem with a better balance in mind.

I'm still figuring out what needs to be done differently next time. What do I do once my ego starts creeping in? Are there skills I can learn that will help me keep my attachment to validation from running the show? I guess the first step is awareness. I was eventually able to recognize what was happening, although by then I felt was committed to my plan, and I wouldn't even entertain the thought of scaling down. The next time my fear starts to take over, I hope to notice it happening sooner, and recognize it for what it is immediately.  If I find myself getting short with my boyfriend in order to (hyper)focus on my work, I know that it's time to step back and reexamine what I'm doing.

I think it would help to treat my final draft more like another rough draft.  It can afford to be less ambitious, and less complete. It's okay to leave some room for improvement; if it's that important, I can come back to it later. Iterative design worked for me best when I was setting humble targets and I think it would behoove me to adhere to that sort of minimalism.

I think it's worth focusing my development efforts on jams and otherwise working within constraint time frames as they encourage me to think small, and still put an upper bound on how carried away I can get. As fixated as I got on the outcome of the game, it could have been a lot worse. Had the jam gone on longer, I might have gotten burnt out to finish the draft and felt too ashamed to submit anything at all.  

I can see wisdom in doing more collaborative creation because it'll force me to let keep a looser grip on the reins and make compromises on my Artistic Vision™.  I can see it requiring me to confront much earlier and more often the fact the finished product isn't going to be exactly what I want, exactly what I think it needs to be. It would especially behoove me, I think, to group up with people who have strong visions of their own and will give me some pushback. I should also seek a situation where I can a backseat while someone else assumes creative control, and I can focus on understanding and fulfilling their vision. I worry that I'll end up thinking I know better and getting bitter that I'm not running the show, but I still think it's worth pursuing that kind of project and finding out how I handle it.

I'll continue to reflect on ways the process could be improved and my more pernicious emotions can be managed, but this is where I'm at for now. I don't have any game development plans in the near future, so I should have plenty of time to chew on it. In the interim, I'm adjusting to working full-time, and I want to focus my attention on some longstanding games writing and non-games programming projects. If you've read this far and you're interested in working together, or you have any advice or thoughts about what I've expressed int his postmortem, please feel free to get in touch.

One final round of thank yous to Naomi Norbez and all the other participants in the Nonbinary Game Jam for making this opportunity for growth and experimentation happen; to the Bitsy community for their patient guidance and inspiring creativity; and to everyone who honored me by playing Empedocles' Bones.