Monday, August 30, 2004

Round and Round and Round we go

Some thoughts on game design. It's a hobby of mine; I consider myself fairly good at it. And I've been at it long enough to start making some meta-observations. One such came to me earlier today, having to do with cycles of thought.

This is prompted by the fact that I'm at a mild low ebb with regards to work on High Trader, and a slow but comforting increasing ebb of enthusiasm with regards to work on Heresy. And I'm learning to spot both trends, and to make some interesting hypotheses...

My current thought is that part of why game design is hard centers around two cycles. Linked, but separate. One is the cycle of enthusiasm; a given design moves from obsession to slog and back again, over (for me) a long timescale, on the order of six months or a year for a full cycle. So far, it's been the case that I end up needing to last through at least one of the slog periods, in which I'm just not interested enough to actually work on something, before it can even near publication. I understand this makes me a pain to work with. The second cycle is the cycle of ideas, those sparks which - in the right soil, to mix metaphors - catch, grow, and shape the wine of inspiration.

My realization this afternoon is that not only are these two distinct cycles, but they interact and interfere with one another as they go. I've had some really cool ideas in the last week or so which, if implemented, would brutally reshape the way Heresy is run; stuff like doing away with the dice (again) and so on. This is of course not a unique occurrence, I'm not claiming to be special in suffering this issue; rather the reverse. It hits everybody like this, from time to time. A design (or other project) hits an enthusiasm slump, and moves slower... and the idea train catches up, and jumps it like a demented hijacker. The alternate problem also exists; the enthusiasm cycle peaks, but the idea cycle is at low ebb, and you get stuck in a rut with one (possibly suboptimal) idea-set.

I think the latter happens less commonly, which implies to me that the idea cycle is dependent (in cycle time, peak height, maybe a DC offset... hard to measure and not worth force-fitting to those terms) on the enthusiasm cycle. Duh, right? I'm not so sure. The idea cycle is that spark of lightning, and while it may be that manipulating the enthusiasm cycle is helpful, it's not like jumping up and down with glee is automatically enough to seduce the Muse. Witness the efforts of thousands of gamer fanboys through the ages, among others. Another metaphor might be that enthusiasm provides a channel, a pathway, for ideas to pour down - if other conditions are right.

I seem to be rambling.

Certainly this all brings me back to the idea that enthusiasm itself, as a key quality, is one of the things which makes life really worthwhile. One of the things that distinguishes depression from fun. So how do we manipulate that cycle? Better living through chemistry? (Actually, that's not a bad way to express the intent of the actual better living through chemistry thought, cf. Timothy Leary et al, which I've always respected a lot while lacking any desire to emulate it directly.) What else? I'm not sure.

Long, hot showers seem to play a positive role. Childcare, alas, seems to play a negative one. But just identifying individual factors is a long way from giving me a technique... a way to manipulate what I care about, what I gush about and stay up late for, what I'm willing to injure myself over.

But that can wait.

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Dancing like Nobody's Watching

Reflections on Star's birthday party...

Not that we haven't noticed this before, but this group of mostly underexercised urbanites always seems to thrive when subjected to intense physical activity. Says something about sociobiology, sure, but more importantly it's a big help in our evolving sense of how best to live our own very specific lives. The dancing on Saturday is obviously what prompts this thought, but Sunfall, lasertag, and good old midnight tag shine out to me as examples of a similar experience - bonding by exertion.

As lessons go, it cuts a layer deeper than "go get some exercise, silly," because of the social element involved. A big part of the payoff, the joy (in the Spider Robinson distinction sense) of all of these activities, seems to revolve around how it takes an already close-knit group of friends and tends to lower barriers - ego barriers, the walls between us and childish wildness, as well as lots of similar impediments which I can sense but not presently name.

I have to wonder whether a group of, say, roughnecks and roadies, might not derive the same kind of contrasting joy from sitting down to work through a crossword puzzle or play Scrabble together. How much of the high is contrast, how much is sociobiology and the demands of neglected muscles? Chalk another one up to the unanswerable questions list.

Regardless, I'd bet that this social element is part of why those of us with physical pastimes not much echoed by the gang (my fencing hobby being a case in point) tend to lag in them and end up slacking, while when you can get a bunch of us onto the bandwagon do tend to reinforce each other. Add this on top of peer pressure and the like; nice to be part of a group that cements its bonds through the joy of pain.

We call it masochism, but this is mockery concealing truth; really, masochism is a sexual oddity, it's tied to pleasure, not joy. One wonders why we have a word for the one, and not the other...


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Sunday, August 29, 2004

Root and Foundationstone

Yes, Eric has a blog now.

Hey, it's a meme. But also a very good way to communicate... Star and I agree that it's one of the best implementations of the 'net for the improvement of real human lives, of understanding. One another and ourselves, come to that.


For reference, to those who would ask about the site name... the hellequin is an old Breton myth-form, a precursor to the Italianate harlequin, clad in motley like that latter-day version, but no jester. The hellequin was a damned king, captain of a troop of the Devil's horsemen. The Wild Hunt, in an earlier and less Celtic incarnation than the one we think of today. I'm still tracing out the connections which led this figure of awe and fear to star in the Commedia del'Arte; if any reader happens to have references they can give, that would be cool.

How the hellequin connects to my heart? Tricky. Those who know me best can probably guess much of it; I can guess some of the rest.
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