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Tag: myself

I connect through game design

I work in games not as an individual creator, but to do it with others. Game design is a way to get in touch with others, teammates and potentially players. I am not a solodev, I struggle really hard when I do projects completely alone also if at times is necessary to push my boundaries.

That’s another reason why I do teach and I join online courses, as well. As a freelancer, I don’t always have clients. There are periods in which I dedicate to personal project, such as the book I am writing, and I feel very alone professionally speaking. Having the excuse to meet other people to teach them or to study with them fixes partially that problem. I am also on Discord channels, but I feel hard to follow discussions there because of the way Discord is designed.

Vulnerable latitude

I have met plenty of professionals who don’t actually love working in games, including game designers. I’m sure this is not news to you, and I also believe that everyone has a right to work in an industry as big as gaming, even if only for a while.

Yesterday, I met one of these people, who told me, “Videogames are your beach!” (using a Brazilian, Rio de Janeiro slang phrase). And I agree; I genuinely love my profession.

I have proof of that because I often put myself in a vulnerable financial position just for the sake of engaging in game design. A client might offer me shares as part of my compensation. If I like the client or the project, I accept, even if I know I may never see any money from it. I know that my task will end, the client will close the collaboration, and I will lose all shares.

I know this, and I consciously make that choice because I love what I do.

But I deeply respect the professionals who don’t care too much—the ones who pass through the industry like tourists, earn some money, and move on. They will have the opportunity to explore different things, and their minds probably won’t be 110% focused on games all the time, unlike mine. I respect that attitude very much as well.

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.

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.

Structured work

The other day, I was reflecting on how I carved out my space in this industry.

Today, that reality has changed. I have other responsibilities, and I can no longer dedicate the same time to my work. My energy levels aren’t what they were 15 years ago. I worked extremely hard to secure the professional space and flexibility I have now.

I still engage with the medium: I play games, about two hours a week, and spend my evenings studying books and taking online courses. Lately, I’ve been particularly focused on the history of games.

Otherwise, I dedicate my energy to activities outside of the games industry. My passion successfully evolved into a job, and ultimately, a job is a job. With time, one has to work less not more.

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.

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.

Vision and clocks

Recently, I was hired for a gig as a fractional leader on a new genre. The team was skilled and talented, and the environment was fantastic. Also, the vision was clear, and my client was very creative. Without even noticing it, I worked lots of hours—much more, actually, than the hours I billed.

Some time ago, I was working on another project with a different client. The vision was messy and definitely not based on anything apart from personal opinions. The team was split across multiple projects, and the goals weren’t clear. Someone told me on a Monday, “I wrote you the whole weekend over Slack, where have you been?” And I answered, “I’m sorry, I don’t work on weekends.”

I believe that crunch is a systemic issue in our industry, and since we have pipelines, it’s avoidable. However, a team truly aiming for success will always have certain members willing to work extra to contribute to a good project. If someone asks me to work more, I will probably be reluctant. But when I feel I want to, I am happy to work extra hours. Things aren’t always black and white.

I believe in bootstrapping

Investors will look for 2x, 5x, 10x, 50x, or maybe 100x returns on their investments. So, if you want to secure funding for your game, you should aim for big revenue numbers, or at least make investors believe that your game can make $500M to $1B or more.

On the other hand, when you build a team, it’s better to start step-by-step, gradually building up your skills by releasing small games and then becoming big. But this sustainable model is hard to sell to investors.

So, we have a paradox: you need money to pay your people and make games, but by promising a billion dollars, you put yourself in a position that’s hard to sustain. Furthermore, if you pitch a billion-dollar game, you need to convince your team to make the best possible game, but with an unimaginable objective.

I personally prefer bootstrapping, but the struggle there is finding the right believers. Because, in any case, you need them.

Today is a good day

Yesterday under the shower, I had an “eureka” moment. Now I can continue with a project I had put on pause, because I have a new vision to work on. This breakthrough was possible because I put hours into studying a tool– a completely different kind of task. My mind started connecting the dots, and after a couple of “let’s try this…” attempts, I got it.

I am happy; now I have renewed energies to work on this.