Skip to content

Tag: ideas

Fast & Slow

Previous post I talked about being part of a high performance team and how we’re able to become so effective in term of our output. This post is about a personal observation in how I’m able to work in such an environment and keep up with the team.

I’ve noticed that my contribution is not consistent. It is fast one day and slow the other day. Ow how I used to hate the fact that I’m slow on certain days, or sometimes even extended periods of time, while seeing the fast periods as normal. But I’ve come to understand that these slower days have a purpose.

Sometimes, being slow means that you need to recover and reenergize from a previous high performance day.

At other times the slower days means that for that particular moment I should spend my time working on something else. When it comes to new ideas and design solutions they sometimes it just require me to be in a particular mood, a particular zone in order for ideas and solutions to come naturally and fast.

Sometimes, being slow means I do not have enough input, or just not spend enough time on finding the solution. Sometimes, it means that I just need to stare longer at the particular problem I want to solve.

In the end, I came to realize that being able to be fast and productive I have to accept that being slow at other times is just part of the process and one does not exist without the other. I’m becoming more mindful of my energy, my own flow, my own limitations and my own process. I’m more accepting of myself.

Why I teach

This week I started teaching a new bootcamp on video game design and conceptualization. I feel very lucky to have the opportunity to teach, even though it’s not a well-paying job. My method requires a lot of effort, and frankly, I would like better financial recognition for that effort.

I believe in the games education, though I must say there are many courses out there that aren’t worth the investment, they just slow students down and drain their wallets.

I’ve found a surprising number of people who study not to learn, but simply to have something to do, too. They aren’t genuinely interested in the subject; they are just there to fill their time.

My mission is always to leave a lasting mark on my students, and to inspire even the most bored ones. To me, game design is a serious craft. I love it with all my soul, and I want to spread its beauty.

Le futur et l’avenir

Tatu Pohjavirta, an experienced CEO and futurist, recently posted a brilliant take on why Venture Capitalists, and so developers, get stuck. They ask, “Are you the next Supercell?” or “What’s the next Netflix?”

As Tatu points out, they are looking for le futur, the foreseeable sequel to the present, when what truly changes the world is l’avenir, the radical, unexpected break from the past.

“The true future doesn’t really inherit the present—it breaks from it.”

This is an inability to step outside the invisible grasp of the present. We assume that our current systems are permanent. But they are just historical accidents waiting for the next great interruption.

Building the Unforeseen

Our job as game designers is to increase the risk of predictability by building something genuinely “other.”. Our work is not to design the next of something; it is to design the first of something else.

But how do you design l’avenir when you don’t even have the language for it? This is where your methodical approach, the discipline you apply to strategy and prototyping, becomes the most powerful creative tool.

Design a game where the question becomes, “What is that?”

  1. Deconstruct Your Genre’s Assumptions (The Historical Accident): Take the genre you know best and list all its “permanent” features (e.g., Shooter: First-Person Camera, Health Bars, Headshots). Identify the Historical Accident, the feature that isn’t essential to the instinct (Combat, Acquisition, Escape) but exists purely because of platform or technology limitations 15 years ago.
  2. Prototype the Vocabulary: Tatu asks, “What’s the wildest thing you can imagine into existence that you don’t yet have language to describe to others?” Your job is to prototype the vocabulary. Build a prototype that demonstrates this “wildest thing” using only simple geometric shapes and text. Playtest it with people and watch their reactions.

Your job is to stop being trapped by le futur and start building the unexpected arrival of l’avenir.

From The Finals to the front lines

Here is the weekly rundown of industry news and my thoughts:

1. Steam’s Home Console Play

The news about new hardware devices from Steam makes one thing clear: they are aggressively attempting to erode the distinction between PC and Console to win the battle for the home living room.

I can’t predict if their strategy will ultimately work, but if I were Sony, I would focus my energy elsewhere. Sony is proven to be exceptionally good at narrative-driven, high-fidelity single-player experiences. You only need to look at the sales figures for games like Ghost of Tsushima (or Ghost of Yotei, if that is the internal name you meant)—that caliber of experience is Sony’s real golden goose. They should double down on what they master.

2. Embark Studios: Practical AI Integration

Another interesting news item this week comes from Embark Studios (developers of Arc Raiders and The Finals). They appear to have found a cool, practical way to integrate AI into their development process.

This is exactly what I like to see: No hype, just pure gameplay utility. They released a world-class game, and they’ve released useful tools for the community. Embark is positioning itself as one of the most promising development realities here in Europe.

3. The AI & War Reflection

On a more sobering note, a friend recently sent me an Instagram post detailing new tactics adopted by the Russian invaders in Ukraine. This led me to a chilling thought:

Perhaps we are seeing so much investment in AI for games because games are essentially a free and unregulated territory to train models made for war. The complex environment, the decision-making under pressure, and the dynamic systems found in games provide perfect training grounds for military AI development. It’s a sobering perspective on the intersection of our entertainment and global conflict.

Offline networking

Here is one of the advices I give to people trying to break into the industry: make sure you constantly meet people in real life.

Instead of staying at home preparing and sending résumés to dozens of applications, it is far better to spend two hours per day outside, perhaps at the gym or at a local course on something entirely unrelated to games.

This approach offers three crucial advantages:

1. Maintain Human Energy

You keep your energy levels high because you are meeting and talking with real humans, not just staring at a screen. Waiting for a response to an online application is passive and draining; engaging with the world is active and vital.

2. Design for Reality

When you meet people outside your professional bubble, you gain invaluable insight into their context. I often use these interactions to think about game design.

For example, I currently attend a Catalan language course twice a week. The class is full of nurses and public service workers who are there primarily to get a better contract, not necessarily to master the language. I notice they are tired, easily bored, and don’t want too much complication. Their lives are already full, balancing jobs and children.

How would I entertain someone like them? Not with a complex console game, right? They need a simple casual game, but it has to load fast and get straight into the gameplay. This helps me stay in touch with reality. It forces me to design for the actual, busy human being, not the idealized, endless-time “gamer.”

3. Unlock Lateral Opportunities

You significantly increase your chance of finding job opportunities in lateral sectors by meeting people who have nothing to do with the virtual bubble you’ve created in your online networks.

I honestly have the feeling that nowadays, it is often easier to find a job by going to the gym than by applying on LinkedIn.

The studio lie

Tim Plöger on LinkedIn shared a critique of the glib advice given to laid-off developers: “You got fired? Then start your own studio!”. This message often gets mixed up, confusing the business problem with the craft problem.

Tim, coming from a focus on the structural and financial side of the industry, correctly points out that starting a studio is not the answer. A studio isn’t just about making games; it’s about allocating people and financials, legal structuring, and sales. That’s a different type of work, and often, a recipe for quick failure for someone whose expertise is in pure creation.

The advice tells you to become an Executive/CEO when all you need to do is remain a Designer/Developer. My counterpoint to Tim was simple: “You don’t have money to buy bread? Well, maybe you have it to buy flour and cook your own bread.”

If your job is to design games, your energy should go into designing games. Spending six months, a year, or even two years sending out résumés without a response drains your energies. It is better to do your job every single day than to beg others while your energy wanes.

When you are laid off, you are given a clean slate, a golden opportunity to build the things you need.

Cook Your Own Bread

You have the chance to prove your adaptive insight (your ability to transfer design knowledge across genres). Here are three immediate actions for any designer, artist, or programmer who is waiting for “the next job”:

  1. Stop Applying, Start Prototyping: Turn your application time into creation time. Build simple, fast, collaborative projects. Don’t worry about polish; worry about fun and flow.
  2. Master the Instincts of the Market: Use this time to apply System Thinking. Pick a successful micro-genre (like the recent Friend-slop games) and try to replicate its core loop. Don’t copy the art; map the instincts (Acquisition, Gregariousness, Escape) that make it tick. This process demonstrates analytical skill far better than any résumé.
  3. Join the Flour-Buyers: Seek out other developers who are also “baking their own bread.” Join forces for a focused, two-week game jam or prototype challenge. The goal is not profit; the goal is to keep your creative engine running and generate concrete work that proves you’re a builder, not a waiter.

The best way to get hired is to be actively doing the job, with or without a corporate logo on your title.

The 100 hours weeks

Michail Katkoff, founder of the brilliant Deconstructor of Fun podcast, recently made an uncomfortable but valid point about 996: 9 a.m. to 9 p.m., six-days-a-week schedule.

He argues that when you’re early in your career, time is your only leverage. You don’t have the pattern recognition yet. The only way to earn that wisdom, like a surgeon or an investment banker, is through sheer, brutal volume. He says you must work hard before you can work smart.

I agree with him. Volume builds experience, and experience is the only thing that separates the dreamers from those who achieve mastery. But there’s a crucial distinction that separates self-sacrifice from exploitation.

Back in 2014, I was staring at a resume with two incomplete projects. I had lost my second job as a game designer. The industry was already demanding a commitment I hadn’t delivered. It was the turning point where I decided: I am going to stay in this industry, no matter the cost.

The cost was high. Achieving what I have now required working more than 100 hours a week. That is the hard truth of earning my space in this sector. I was fortunate to have a wonderful family who provided emotional and financial support; without them, it would have been impossible.

However, I have never accepted working more than eight hours a day for someone else. I have the luxury of being supported emotionally and economically from my family. The story would have been different otherwise.

This is the critical difference:

  • 996 for the Company is often a management failure masked as ambition. It’s an unsustainable practice where you burn your hours and your health to deliver someone else’s messy vision. It’s exploitation, pure and simple.
  • 100 Hours for Yourself is like hard training, instead. It means building your own systems, and your future.

When I was rebuilding my career, I was awake before dawn, spending my days working intensively and alone. I discovered Michail’s podcast, taking notes at night. I developed my own systems, my own frameworks, and my own unique pattern recognition.

I was working for my competence. I was working to build my own gate so that I could one day invite the market in, rather than begging for access. I couldn’t skip the hours and the volume. I am sure that it’s not the only way, but it’s the one that avoids most of the risks.

Thoughts on 996 (aka Crunch)

I love my work and I work a lot. Yes, I feel that I have to, because I feel responsible for our team, for our game, for our publisher who’s placing a lot of trust in us and our game and I’m ambitious and eager to succeed. But I crunch when I feel like it. In our team, no-one is ever forced to crunch, nor is it expected. We repeat to ourselves and each other that we do not need to crunch.

I used to think crunch very much avoidable and is all due to bad planning, and to an extend it is. You always have to factor in that things take longer and that game development is very dynamic. But it’s not that simple. Ambitions and aspirations won’t be tamed that easily and having a drive to succeed is an unstoppable force.

But 996 (working from 9am to 9pm for 6 days a week) is extremely unhealthy, even for a single week, especially if it’s mandated and expected but you planned for 955. In our team, if we feel we’re running behind schedule, we reprioritize and focus on the things we can finish and replan for the things that fall of the schedule. So not only do you need to plan realistically, expect dynamic development and ambitious team members, you also need to be flexible and adept to any situation to make sure crunch is not considered a tool.

Crunch is avoidable and should be avoided, but crunch if you feel like it on a personal level.

Beyond your resume

Companies and investors look at the past experience of a candidate or an entrepreneur to determine if the person is right for the position or investment. This makes sense because you want to reduce risks as much as you can. Having people with concrete experience on something working on that something gives at least the feeling that they can do it well.

In the case of game design, this translates to genres and platforms. Companies look for economy designers who have worked on idle RPGs, for instance. Investors will probably fund ex-Riot people to make a new MOBA game for the US market.

But if you are a real game designer, you can work on different genres. I mean, if you know the basics of problem identification, audience, deconstructing mechanics, and so on, you can work on a platform game for PS5 even if you previously worked on casual match-3 games for mobile. We are not finding the cure for cancer, right?

In most cases, the only way of proving this capacity is alone or in a game jam. It’s hard to be hired by a company in a completely different environment. But the reality is that there are fashions, and maybe that popular genre in your area becomes uninvested, and you have to reinvent yourself.

How to do that? I prefer to start by applying my past experiences to the new challenges. The capacity to adapt insight and look at everything as a system is key. And it is a talent, so you need to cultivate it. I hold a design diary and often take notes of these cross-references and analogies.

The art of discovery

What is art? To me, art is everything that makes me discover something new. Video games are about fun, and fun is basically discovery. It’s the discovery of some skill we have, the discovery of how a certain story will end. It’s the discovery of a new technology, or maybe the discovery of a new type of appearance or visual style.

It’s clear that video games are pure art under this optic. This includes even games made purely for cash, like gambling games or aggressive free-to-play games. We discover something about ourselves in any case. Of course, that “something” can be bad as well.