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Interview with merritt k for MEL Magazine

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merritt k kindly interviewed me for MEL Magazine, a publication which covers culture "from a male point of view" but also seems to employ a fair amount of not-men? Anyway, the discussion mostly focused on video game culture and masculinity. I argue that video game masculinity missed a few developmental steps, and I'm dutifully trying to plug that hole with my work. Here's an excerpt of my tirade:
[...] I bring it up because I think the game industry’s anti-sex stance means we never figured out the equivalent of teenage sex comedy games — so game masculinity jumped from a love of cruel mindless violence to a stilted masculinity about being a Cool Dad who raises their daughter to be a Cool Girl, which is totally unearned, right? Video games cannot continue to repress this whole “sexual anxiety” part of masculinity and growing up. Fuck that shit! You don’t get to reconcile with feminism until you actually put the work in.
Feel free to read the rest of the interview, I'm told I say some good words in it. Thanks to merritt for the thoughtful questioning.

GDC 2018: How To Light A Level, slides and transcript

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This post is aimed at beginner / intermediate designers. It's a summary of the talk I gave at the GDC 2018 Level Design Workshop with David Shaver for the "Invisible Intuition" double-feature session. You can get the full slide deck PDF here, and the speaker notes PDF here... but I don't know when GDC will upload the talk to YouTube, sorry.

A very brief and simple history of light starts with the sun. Then let's not forget about fire, controlled burning in gas lamps, incandescent light bulbs with a filament... and these days, there’s a stronger focus on more energy-efficient fluorescent lights, and LED lighting is also becoming more common.

It’s tempting to think of this as a story about technology and progress and older light sources becoming obsolete... but the light bulb did not make the sun obsolete, and the LED does not make fire obsolete! We still use fire as a light source all the time -- in our birthday candles, in our campfires, in our romantic candle-lit dinners -- in fact, I hate those little fake flickering LED candles, because a real flame has a unique quality to it, you know?

Fire hasn’t disappeared from the world, but rather our culture around fire has changed. That is, fire used to be a common and practical tasklight in Shakespeare's time, but now it feels more like special decoration for a special occasion. As a designer, you need to sensitize yourself to how light feels and conveys these ideas, because this is how you communicate those moods to the player.


Now in real-life, light is part of a complex but coherent system of physics with energy, waves, rays, photons, etc. Expensive lighting effects like real-time shadows, reflections, refractions, or screen space subsurface scattering (SSSSS) all happen for "free" in real-life, because that's how physics works! Meanwhile, in video game land, light is a box of crappy hacks that we must tweak and tune into seeming like an elegant system. Every piece is a layer of detail where you can tell one light to "turn off shadows" or tell another light to "disable reflectivity", which would make zero sense in a physically accurate system. Because it can get so complicated, I'm just going to focus on fundamentals... these 4 light types are in every 3D game engine or 3D toolset, and form a complete domain of basic lighting tools:

3D LIGHT TYPES:Global, affects everythingLocal, affects nearby things
Shines in one directionDirectional lightSpotlight
Shines in all directionsAmbient lightPoint light

Ambient light is like the default amount of light you add to the world so that it isn't pitch black. The directional light is like sunlight or moonlight, and casts constant light from a certain direction (usually downwards from the sky). A point light is like a bare light bulb and throws light in all directions, while a spotlight casts a cone of light in a certain direction. (For more info and examples, see "Lighting Theory for 3D Games, part 4")

These are just tools, and you need design theory to imagine how to use these tools. The most common lighting design theory is probably three-point lighting, which is widely used in film, theater, and photography.


Three point lighting refers to three different types of lights: (1) a key light is your main dominant light source, (2) a fill light brightens darker areas, and (3) a rim light highlights edges to pop the foreground from the background. Sometimes there's a (4th) background light that brightens up the backdrop to smooth out awkward shadows from the key and fill.

Notice how the key light and fill light in this example are perpendicular to each other, while the rim/back light is behind the subject. All these lights had different intensities and color temperatures, but for this theory, you should be paying special attention to the light positions and directions. Their placement, relative to other lights, determines their function.

(If you want some more examples of three point lighting, you can read this post from the lighting blog Lighting Pixels.)

However, the big problem with using three point for games is that it assumes you have complete control over the camera... but what if you don't? What if the player controls the camera? Three point light types depend on the light's orientation relative to the camera -- a rim light is a rim light because it grazes the subject, but if you approach from a different angle, now there's no more rimming action -- now the rim light is a key light! If it looks like a dim shadowy silhouette from the front, it'll glow like a deer in headlights from the back. The light placement matters, but the camera placement matters too!

So in order to use three point theory effectively in games, you need to be able to predict the camera angle. In a first person game, that means knowing roughly where the player will be walking and looking. Fortunately, we already have a tool to constrain the player's movement and rotation: it's your level layout! If you frame a subject a certain way, or limit an approach to a certain direction, then you can place lights for that perspective.


OK, now let's just get down to it: how do you light a level? Here's a general suggested workflow, for use in whatever engine or toolset you're using:

1. Graybox / blockout your level layout. You can't light a level if you don't have any floors or walls to light. Also, remember that your level layout is a lighting tool, and you'll want to understand how the player moves through your level. (If you need help, read my primer for How To Graybox A Level.)

When I'm grayboxing, I like turning off light baking so that I don't get distracted -- in Unreal 4.18, that would involve enabling "Force No Precomputed Lighting", while in Unity 2017 you would disable "Auto-Generate Lighting" at the bottom of the Light Settings tab.


2. Configure global lights (ambient, directional) and figure out the dominant mood. Is this a safe sunny sundrenched place, or is a spooky dangerous moonlit complex? You'll want to setup your basic light levels and time of day because it affects your entire scene.

In Unreal 4.18, this means playing with the DirectionalLight, SkyLight, and Lightmass bounce values in the World Settings. In Unity 2017, you should tweak the Directional Light as well as the ambient values in the Environmental Light section at the top of the Light Settings tab.

If you're not baking lights or using global illumination, you might need to hand-place some faint point lights to simulate the bounced "fill" effect that would come from sunlight. I've even heard a particularly scary rumor that Fallout 4 didn't have any GI or light baking, so some poor soul had to go and place little point lights everywhere to simulate sun rays washing through a room. Yikes! Unless you're making a mobile game or have harsh memory limits, I'd just do some baking. It's worth it.

(TIP: For those kinds of "invisible" faint subtle fill lights, you should usually turn off their specular contribution / flatten them. So in Unity, I'll often set these lights to "Not Important", and in Unreal I'll set the Min Roughness to a higher value.)


3. Light for player progression, and highlight exits / critical path. This part mostly involves using point lights and spotlights to draw more attention to where the player might want to go in your game. My example above is pretty exaggerated, with bright red doors and bright warm spotlights, but you get the idea -- you want to create contrast with these key lights, and suggest where the player can go in a pretty obvious way.

One important concept here is hierarchy. If your room has multiple entrances, exits, or routes, you should try to light them according to their context. Don't light everything the same, but rather, create some differentiation. Maybe some key lights should be brighter than other key lights, maybe a main entrance deserves more lighting than a sneaky side exit, etc.


4. Light setpieces and encounters. If you have big puzzle areas, or battles or enemies in your game, you'll want the player to notice these features and form a plan to tackle these setpieces. That means your lighting needs to help the player read the situation. In these instances, a key light might get lost -- so here I often like using rim lights and background lights instead, to help silhouettes and shapes pop out from the background.

You can see in the example above I use blue-green teal flood lights to draw attention to the Almighty Orb and the various henchmen. The enemies themselves remain dark silhouettes, but that's OK if the game is about eliminating them. Notice the light direction (teal arrow) is roughly perpendicular to the player's critical path (orange arrow), that's different is what makes it function like a rim light. If I hadn't playtested my level, and I hadn't known where the player would approach from, then it would make it difficult to design this lighting scheme!

Again, it's a very exaggerated example, but it helps you see the difference between the NPCs and the environment, even from a faraway distance. As you do this, try to keep your lighting language consistent. If you light one type of thing in one way, then try to keep lighting it that way.


5. Do a texturing / color / albedo pass. At this point, you should maybe do a texturing pass or a base color pass on your level geometry. Light color might mix with your diffuse color to produce strange or unpleasant color combinations, especially if the colors happen to clash.

If you're using baked lighting or GI, then the albedo color value matters even more, since both Unity and Unreal use the albedo's luminance to calculate light reflectance. Darker albedos produce much darker rooms than you'd think, while lighter albedos tend to produce more plausible results. In general, try to err on the side of brighter albedos near the upper midtone range of a histogram. (You can check your texture's histogram in Photoshop with Image > Adjust > Levels.) (For more info, see Epic's UDK texturing guidelines, which are old but still relevant.)

Calibrating your brightness and darkness tones is important. When you light something prominently or hide something in shadow, you're sort of making a statement about how you feel about it...


6. Take responsibility for your art and be considerate. In the article "Black Skin Is Still A Radical Concept In Video Games", Yussef Cole and Tanya DePass feature this unfortunate example from Skyrim: the white woman on the right is lit evenly and we can read all the different contours of her face... while the black woman on the left is lit poorly, and basically the bottom half of her head is missing. The black woman is lit so strangely that it's as if she doesn't even belong there!

This is why lighting is worth spending time on! The cost of thoughtless lighting is heavy: you'll end up making a game that doesn't care about black people.

Now, I doubt an evil mustache-twirling racist developer sabotaged the lighting in Skyrim. However, this is a clear case of institutional racism -- it wasn't intentional, but the predominantly white dev team at Bethesda probably playtested with lighter-skinned characters as the "default", and never stopped to do a lighting pass for the darker skinned characters... otherwise they would've noticed the black woman's albedo tint is way too dark, or that she needs stronger specular values, or that the game world's spheric harmonics bake needs to be recalibrated. Lighting matters and workflow matters!

If a bunch of professionals (making an otherwise awesome game) can fall into this trap, then so can all of us. So the big takeaway of this entire talk is basically just: think critically about what your light is doing.

Light adds depth, mood, meaning, and context to your game. Don't leave it until the last minute, don't treat it as an afterthought, and don't be scared of it -- you just gotta put the time and work into it. Try different variations, and experiment with different lighting schemes. If you're ever in doubt, ask diverse collaborators for feedback. I believe in you!

Anyway. I hope you learned a little bit about light today. Thanks for listening.

This is just a summary. You can also download the full slides PDF (with bonus slides at the end) or the speakers notes PDF.

A call for video game neorealism

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Bicycle Thieves (1948)
This is adapted from a spur-of-the-moment Lost Levels 2018 talk.

In video games, we understand realism as meaning photorealism: a hyper-real commercial aesthetic that's cynically detached from politics, emotion, and reality. Photorealism is also about escalating the video game value system, where high production AAA games are generally seen as more "immersive" and well-crafted than something that's less photorealistic. These are supposedly the videogamiest video games.

But outside of video game aesthetics, realism means much more. There's a centuries old tradition of literary realism, that sought to plunge the reader in the banal moments of everyday life. Social realism was a movement to paint more of the poor and working class, while socialist realism was a state-sponsored hyper-heroic style about personifying socialist thought. And today, we arguably live in an era of capitalist realism, where art and culture cannot imagine a world outside of capitalism. Reality is not a fixed thing -- there is not one realism, but many realisms, and each realism has a different type of commitment to reality.

So to imagine a world outside of photorealism, I'd like to build-off of another historical moment in realism -- and that is (Italian) neorealism in film.

Umberto D (1952)
From Wikipedia:
Neorealism is characterized by a general atmosphere of authenticity. André Bazin, a French film theorist and critic, argued that neorealism portrays: truth, naturalness, authenticity, and is a cinema of duration. The necessary characteristics of neo-realism in film include:

a definite social context;

a sense of historical actuality and immediacy;

political commitment to progressive social change;

authentic on-location shooting as opposed to the artificial studio;

a rejection of classical Hollywood acting styles; extensive use of non-professional actors as much as possible;

a documentary style of cinematography
"Without Pity" (Senza pietà) (1948)
What would a neorealist video game look like? As a starting point, I guess I'd like to try adapting some of Bazin's argument as a manifesto...

A neorealist video game should focus on truth and authenticity. It should have a definite social context, and a sense of historical immediacy. It should have a political commitment to progressive social change... (ok so far so good...)

A neorealist game should use on-location shooting as opposed to the artificial studio -- (wait, hm, no, let's try that again) --a neorealist game should rely on assets and non-professional actors sourced primarily from the physical world (?!) and these assets should be minimally postprocessed, cleaned, or optimized... raw photos, raw video footage, raw 3D scans? (I regard this as a crucial strategy for destroying photorealism: to deploy more accurate but less polished likenesses, and detach realism from production value.)

A neorealist game should adopt documentary styles of cinematography, which to me, means no singular unquestioned first person / third person focus on one character. That doesn't mean the game camera should try to feel disembodied from the world, as if it were a neutral observer / fly on the wall! It's more like... the player perspective, and perspective shifts, should be actively concerned with the construction of the story / setting. There needs to be some sort of commitment or concern for how things are.



There's a great 5 minute analysis called "What is Neorealism" that argues the core of neorealism is about the slower shots, fewer cuts, lingering in scenes, and messiness of the story. Where a classical Hollywood film would follow only essential story beats around a central character, a neorealist film explains much less, and features all the "in-between" characters and moments that make real-life. Our good friend André Bazin would call this a "cinema of duration", where time and place are more felt by the viewer.

I think farming simulators, truck simulators, and walking simulators are maybe the closest thing to a "design of duration" with their unique commitments to preserving long in-between moments.

In contrast, anxious antsy games like Far Cry 5 constantly get worried that not enough is happening, and thus totally fail this "slow games" neorealist critique, at least formally, if not also socially and politically.



Anyway. That's some early thoughts on what a "neorealist" game could do. I think many games have implemented aspects of neorealism, but it'd be cool to witness a full experiment that really dives into it. No, it doesn't have to be a grayscale game about working class people in postwar Italy, but we'll know it when we see it.

But mostly, I just wish "realism" wasn't such a dirty word in game criticism and theory. I hope I've shown how, historically, realism has been a powerful progressive tool for rethinking art and its relationship to the world.

Don't let AAA game aesthetics monopolize realism! Realism doesn't belong to companies! Realism belongs to the people. We just have to reach out and take it back.

American Choppers debate the arches in a sewer level from Half-Life 2

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This happened last night. I'm so so sorry.

I don't have the time to actually fit this into the American Choppers meme template... but at any rate, I'm clearly Paul Sr., because I'm clearly right and I also deserve the last word!

Full tweet thread embed (what Twitter calls a "moment") is below:

"Sex and Drugs and Video Games" at Nordic Game Jam 2018 - Friday, April 13th at 5:30pm

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This weekend I'll be in Copenhagen to speak during the opening program of the 2018 Nordic Game Jam on Friday, April 13th. The talk is called "Sex and Drugs and Video Games"... it's intended mostly as an introduction / primer for thinking about sex games and intimacy in play, since most of the audience will be younger people or newer devs who might not be so familiar with this particular diversity of indie games.

Here's the blurb:
There are already many video games about simulating popular real-life activities such as jumping and killing, but what if there were video games about things that people never do, like sex and drugs? In this talk, we will explore this fascinating frontier of game design and learn about this rich history and community. Because maybe sex is a real-life activity too?
If you'll be at the jam, feel free to say hello. I'll probably jam a bit on Friday night and Saturday, but unfortunately I can't stay long and I have to fly back to New York on Sunday. See you around maybe!

On "Marathon" as an almighty whoosh

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This post spoils my game Marathon.

Marathon is a 0-99 hour game about the athletic endurance required to masturbate for very long durations. I only spent about 6 hours making the game at this year's Nordic Game Jam, but I do intend to revisit this prototype and update it later. (Coming in Q4 2018: Marathon HD?)

The game is a pretty simple one-button timing game: you have to hold down [SPACE] on your keyboard to arouse yourself, but you must avoid arousing yourself for too long or else you might prematurely climax; similarly, if you avoid holding [SPACE] for too long, then you will fall flaccid and you won't be able to get it up again. I wanted to keep the mechanic simple because I didn't want to focus particularly on strategy or skill. Instead, I wanted to test endurance, and how long a player would be able to keep edging themselves without getting sloppy and/or bored.

The game concept is heavily inspired by merritt k's article "The Man Trying to Break the World Record for the Longest Time Spent Masturbating", an interview with a man named Drake Hardy who is competing for the world record in time spent masturbating:

Hardy’s approach to masturbation is an uncommon one, especially for men. Just look at the slang for male masturbation, which emphasizes the quick-and-dirty nature of the act -- rubbing one out, jacking off, etc. In the popular imagination, male masturbation is a furtive, spur-of-the-moment act to temporarily calm an ever-present urge, rather than a planned-out affair. In fact, the image of the premeditated or marathon masturbator is mostly associated with lonely, disgusting cast-offs who are surrounded by lube and tissues hours deep into a PornHub search.

Drake, however, almost never watches porn. “I put on some music and set lighting to make a pleasant mood. This is a time to focus on pleasuring me.” [...]

Additionally, he occasionally “rests” his penis and “freshens the blood” by allowing himself to slide into half-mast or chubby territory for a few minutes at a time. “This can be risky,” he admits. “Sometimes I can’t get a full erection back and end up losing it altogether.” But once he gets going, he gets into a flow state he compares to that experienced by athletes. “The first time I did 10 hours, I remember looking at the clock and saw I was at about 6 and thought, Okay just a little more and I’m done. I was so focused that the next thing I knew I was ready to quit, and it was 10 hours!”

That interview was basically a game design document. Plus, it fit well with the Nordic Game Jam 2018 theme: "breaking point." The idea of physical breaking points, deformation, and athletic physicality made a lot of sense to me, so I tried to design the masturbation / erection mechanic to resemble some sort of exercise, like a sit-up or a push-up or something.

But the difference between a mere game and a sport is that people regularly spectate sports, so I ended up spending most of my work time on implementing the dynamic audience.

As your time progresses and the stakes escalate, more spectators appear and cheer you on, and then they gradually get rowdier too. I like the effect of having only 1 loyal fan cheering you on at first -- and then gradually it grows into a massive raging crowd that won't get tired as long as you don't get tired. Most of these progression effects are tuned to top-out after 3-5 minutes, after accumulating several dozen people.


The focus on duration was also inspired by the local multiplayer party game eCheese Zone, which (at first) tasks players with repeatedly clicking on falling cheese puffs to accelerate an hour-long cooldown delay. It's painfully repetitive and boring on purpose, but the challenge for players is to find meaning in the activity anyway. At a typical games event or party, players end up forming ad-hoc communities to share tips and tricks and to indoctrinate newcomers. You end up coining strange communal rituals, like at one party we would chant "cheese! cheese! cheese!" over and over, and then bombard the unfortunate clicking player with lots of unsolicited advice about what to click and when.

As the countdown approaches 0:00, everyone nearby is sucked into the orbit of this game. Then when the clicking player inevitably fails a difficult section, everyone shouts and the tension is released. The philosophers Hubert Dreyfus and Sean Kelly argued for the importance of such "whoosh" events, when you experience a significant moment "when reality glows", such as during epic sporting events or historic rallies / speeches -- or maybe it's when you have a cup of hot coffee on a cold day, or take a much-needed hot shower. A "whoosh" is when we are faced with reverence and gratitude for being present.

And isn't "sex" also occasionally a time "when reality glows"? Then isn't (some) sex a "whoosh"? I wish we would all be so lucky as to experience whoosh sex in our lives!


If it was ever played in a public setting, I imagine Marathon would hopefully transform into a social and communal game. People might trade-off turns at the controls, dutifully trying to reach the longest time. Not really masturbating for themselves, but rather, masturbating for each other. 

This is also the humanistic turn that champion masturbator Drake Hardy pushes, near the end of the interview:
Overall, Hardy says the biggest challenge is about changing the way we think about jacking it. “Like most people, when I was young, I was taught that masturbating — and any sex outside of heterosexual marriage — was sinful and something to be ashamed of,” explains Hardy, describing himself as a “masturbation ambassador” who’s working to win hearts and minds on the virtues of self-pleasure. “I want to share my experiences with others in the hope that their journey to sexual freedom can be shorter, better informed and more open and honest — with themselves and others.”
Thank you, Mr. Ambassador.

Advice for making a game design / game dev portfolio

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After advising several game dev students on their portfolio websites, I realized I was basically giving the same advice and pointing out the same kinds of issues, and maybe I should write about it. So here's some thoughts for students making a portfolio:

First, figure out your audience. Who is your portfolio primarily for? If you want to get a AAA game job, you should try to tailor it to the norms of that industry -- if it's for some sort of school admissions application, then think about what an admissions committee would want to see. A small indie studio will want to see that you're versatile and that you won't need much supervision to solve problems. Each situation will have different expectations for a portfolio.

A portfolio is more curated than a personal site. A personal site can be whatever you want, and represent all your diverse interests and complex personality. In contrast, someone hiring for a programmer job doesn't care whether you play guitar or whether you draw sometimes, and anyway, they have 50 more applicants to look at! Your still life paintings are important to your identity, but probably irrelevant to a gameplay programming position, so you might want to consider keeping your portfolio separate from your personal website.

Next, here's some more specific advice:

SOME MORE SPECIFIC ADVICE


PUT YOUR NAME AND E-MAIL NEAR THE TOP!!! Don't hide it behind a "contact me" link, don't put it at the bottom. Your ideal outcome is that someone will e-mail you with a big delicious job offer... don't make it hard for them to e-mail you. In game art, some people even argue that you should watermark every single image with your e-mail address and website URL, for the same reasons.

Showcase 3-8 projects. You don't want too few projects, otherwise people wonder "where's all their work?" And you might want to avoid too many projects, otherwise people won't know what to focus on, and if you're a student, your work is evolving so fast that you shouldn't show everything anyway.

Don't write too much. Be concise, and describe each project in a few sentences at most. On group projects, outline your role / contribution / responsibilities. Say what you did and describe it in specific and succinct language. This is also good practice for an interview; if someone asks you about your project, you'll need to be able to talk about the actual work you did. If you just mumble that you helped test the game and provided some ideas, then that won't be very convincing.

If it's not obvious from your work, say your desired role at the top. Do you want to be an environment artist? Maybe put "environment artist" at the top. Are you a game designer or level designer or level scripter? Say so! But don't just say "programmer", there are like 50 different programmer specializations in the game industry alone. If you want a primer to different industry job roles, see Liz England's post.

No splash page. No carousel / slideshow.You're not selling a fantasy or brand; you're trying to convince them that you're a real person who can work with real people. Your front page should basically be a list of links to your projects, a flat and simple navigation structure works best. Until you actually have the experience to act like a loud celebrity, then adopt a tone of modesty, honesty, and authenticity instead.

Test on mobile. Lots of people use phones to browse websites. Many people will probably visit your website on their phone. Hopefully it works on their phone!

A note on hosting. If you're at at a university, they probably offer you free webspace with FTP access, for example NYU has a Web Publishing service. GitHub Pages is also a solid free choice, where your Git repo becomes a web server. But if you don't know anything about FTP or HTML or CSS, you'll probably need to buy a plan at an all-in-one service with a website builder system like Cargo Collective, Squarespace, or Weebly.

EXAMPLES


Example AAA gameplay programmer portfolio: Hugo Peters. Projects all listed on main page (the front page video is a little obnoxious though)... individual pages (example: "Bolt Storm") list specific systems and features, and Hugo explains the technical implementation and reasoning for each module. Short in-editor videos demonstrate workflow and tuning.

Example AAA game design / level design generalist portfolio: David Shaver. Projects all listed on the main page. Individual project pages have explanation of setpieces and gameplay segments, with specific examples of implementation and short videos. (example: "Titanfall 2, mission 3") Visual aids and short text descriptions explain generalist design touches (example: "Titanfall 2 enemy AI and game feel").

Example AAA level design / scripting portfolio: Mike DiRenzo. Projects all listed on main page. For individual project pages (example: "Rise of the Tomb Raider") the tasks and features for individual puzzles were explained and illustrated with short videos... for projects where he built the entire level (example: "Berserk") there's a layout overview image that illustrates critical path with a walkthrough gallery.

Example generalist game developer portfolio: Jonathan Brodsky. Name and role at the top, list of projects with short descriptions and links, very flat and simple with everything on one page. Pay attention to the project descriptions -- Jon always says what it is and what his contributions were.

Example creative technologist portfolio: Ivan Safrin. When Ivan isn't building his own open-source Unity killer, he's making big impressive interactive installations. Notice how it's a simple gray page with links -- he doesn't need flashy photos or videos, because his work will speak for itself. Also note the concise text descriptions on each project page.

Example 2D/3D artist portfolio: maybe just setup an Artstation profile.

ANYWAY


Good luck, and try your best! But even if you don't end up working in games, you'll probably enjoy a higher salary and better quality of life by doing something else. Don't stress out too much, take care of yourself, and remember: it'll probably be OK.

A MAZE 2018 after-action report

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This year I attended A MAZE 2018 in Berlin. It's still probably one of the best video game events in the world; it happens in one of the coolest places in one of the coolest cities around. In the day, you basically hangout in a beer garden and drink some surprisingly affordable beer. At night, hordes of punky post-apocalyptic Berliner teenagers hangout and dance. This unique audience and format makes it all feel pretty special, and I think this year's award show host Tim Rogers put it best: usually people at games events are frantically planning where they're going afterwards, but at A MAZE, the after-party is the festival itself, and many people often linger into the wee early hours of the morning in true Berlin fashion.

There's also a strong participatory focus at A MAZE. Each night, there was an open booth for anyone to plug into and DJ, and "open screens" for anyone to exhibit their projects. There were also stand-up comedy routines, hypertalks, and a "devolution" show featuring various old builds of Superhot to understand its 3-4 year dev cycle. In that spirit of experimentation, I ran a "democratic lighting workshop" where I solicited lighting suggestions from the audience, and then attempted to realize their designs in a Unity scene. We laughed and we learned!!!

But wait, that's not all...



I also attended the festival as a jury member.

On Thursday, we all basically spent 10 AM - 5 PM playing games and thinking about them. Some of my personal favorites here included Attentat 1942, a video documentary game (it reminded me a bit of Her Story with its focus on unreliable realism) about your Polish grandparents' encounters with the Gestapo, and it was censored / not officially displayed at the festival due to Germany's laws against public display of swastikas, and a legal precedent against Wolfenstein 3D in 1992. (Challenging the law to set a new precedent for games will involve a lot of legal fees.)

At the exhibition, I enjoyed two short VR pieces that I had never seen before, Museum of Symmetry and Fountain.

The Museum of Symmetry belongs to the venerable VR narrative genre of "people shout stuff at you, and then you do stuff", but with an exceptional hand-drawn cartoon style and wonderful character design by Paloma Dawkins. My favorite part was a magical garden where I was watering plants, but then I watered too many plants and everyone started crying at how overgrown the garden had become.

Fountain is a critical exploration of Duchamp's famous found sculpture featuring a urinal, and what this kind of art means in an age of mechanical / digital reproduction. In general the designer Philipp Stollenmayer is basically a prodigy, who has shown he has the range to make tightly tuned physics games, as well as high-concept work like Fountain.



Anyway, this is all to say, that you should probably attend A MAZE at least once to see what it's about. If you can afford it and make the time, I recommend about a week or two in Berlin, to fit some sightseeing in there as well. In the meantime, I'll be dreaming about all the delicious doner I ate...

What is the game university for?

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I did not go to game design school -- not that I had a choice, since only a handful of game design programs existed when I attended college. Like many in the industry, I'm "self-taught" -- which is to say, I relied on informal learning from a network of creative communities and random online tutorials. Today, I teach in one of the better-rated and better-funded game design programs in the world. With my self-taught background, I'm often suspicious of the idea of formal technical education. So here's my experience with teaching game development for the past 5-6 years:

There's often very loud implications from students, parents, and industry developers that we, as universities, are never doing enough to prepare students for the "real world". This criticism exists alongside the skyrocketing cost of US higher education, the ivory tower elitism of academia, and a societal shift toward privileging "practical""hard" skills like science and engineering, instead of "useless""soft" skills like literature or ethics. This anxiety is understandable, but it also plays into a very politically conservative vision of universities: that we exist only to train a productive and compliant workforce.

Danette Beatty recently tweeted something that seems very reasonable and actionable, and her thoughtful thread started a long important conversation on generalism vs specialization and how we ought to teach game development... but a lot of people don't read beyond the first tweet in a Twitter thread so I'd like to get into why "set your students up with the skills to actually get jobs that are in demand in the industry" has been complicated for me as a game dev teacher.

I'm going to define a generalist as "someone who has basic competency in diverse skills", and thus can execute an entire project themselves. They may not be the best artist or programmer or designer -- but they can make basic art assets, prototype game systems with code, and communicate an intended experience at a presentation or meeting. Generalists often have specializations, but they're also not scared of picking up new skills or filling-in for another role.

Can the university (or industry) predict what will be relevant tools / workflows in 5-10 years? An entire generation of students learned Torque3D, Flash, and Macromedia Director. How marketable are those skills now? Many design departments have learned painfully, from experience, that teaching too closely to the tools is usually not good for the students.

Different parts of the world have different jobs. In NYC, there's basically one AAA studio here, and most indie studios staff a few people at most. I know many students who go on to do games-adjacent work in advertising / journalism / medical / education / film and TV, which often seek generalist interactive developers. These other industries don't know or care about how you profiled UE4's GPU memory stats, or how you can sculpt amazing rocks in ZBrush... they just want you to make an app or game, like some sort of general contractor.

(To be clear: we're happy when our students enter AAA, but we're also proud of students when they find any other job or figure out any other living. If games are art / culture, then that means studying game design should be generally useful for a life that's adjacent-to-games or outside-of-games too. Must all English majors become novelists and poets? Well, I didn't.)

Also, why isn't the game industry generalizing its junior positions / making itself more accessible? It's fun to blame schools for everything, but maybe some of the fault here is also with studios. If the game industry can't fill its absurd "temporary contract: junior graphics programmer with 20 years of C++ experience and 4 shipped titles" openings then maybe it should change how it hires for junior positions, and adjust its studio structure? Instead of expecting colleges to completely train its workforce, maybe the industry should invest much more in outreach and training. In most industries, this is the baseline expectation: entry-level hires will be trained and mentored on the job. In exchange for that investment, the hire stays at that company and makes it worth their while. But for that to work, I guess you'd need an industry with low turnover and low burn-out though. Some question whether the game industry can even support its existing specialists.

Games education is not a monolith!!! Each school should be allowed to specialize in their own vision of game design. At NYU Game Center, we do not train C++ engine programmers nor 3D gun artists, and we teach design-first and generalist fluency. Other games programs at USC, UCSC, UCLA, CMU, SCAD, Digipen, Guildhall, LCC, Concordia, ENJMIN, KADK, ITU Copenhagen, TH Koeln, ZHdK, Uppsala, RMIT, etc. all have different focuses too. If you want to critique post-secondary games education, that's great and we want to hear your feedback, but try to be more specific about who you mean.

What is the purpose of post-secondary education? By the way, people can't even agree on this basic question. Historically, universities started as a way to train clergy / scholars / government officials. In the US, we developed a tradition of Deweyian"liberal arts" meant to prepare well-rounded citizens to critically engage in democracy, as generalists in life itself! And Paulo Freire famously argued that education should nurture revolutionary political consciousness. How does that fit with other academic priorities like athletics programs, military aerospace research, and teaching teens how to code? You could also argue that "college" functions mostly as a rite of passage for entry into the upper middle class / elite, where the main goal is to make the "right kind" of friends and social networks, and it doesn't even matter what you study.

The real world does not consider game development to be part of the real world. Practical technical skills in game development are considered impractical by most of society. How does this prepare students for the real world? Most would argue that "training students in technical skills for a niche hyper-competitive industry with very few accessible junior positions, while industry practice and trends drastically change every 5-10 years" is definitely not the real world. This 99% of people would also think teaching game development is obscenely irresponsible of us as educators, and we should stop trying to push game design as a distinct discipline.

Of course we think the naysayers are wrong, and we're still trying to listen to the game industry's needs. However, we still need to do it our own way -- a way that balances academic / institutional norms and dreams of a better future, while also hopefully helping students live their best possible life... a life that revolves around much more than just the game industry's current demands for specific job openings scattered across less than a dozen cities around the world.

It's complicated, there are many obligations in many directions, and the best course of action is more ambiguous than you'd think.

TLDR: every school worries about this a lot

Again, I just wanted to speak to my own experience and perspective as someone who teaches game development. I also encourage you to check out Brendan Keogh's take as well as Innes McKendrick's thread too, for more on the idea of industry placement / what generalism means.

Dreamhouse process diary and prototyping notes + a better retro 3D low precision vertex shader

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In collaboration with local NYC-area arcade collective Death by Audio Arcade, me and several other gay / queer artists are making small games for an event at a Brooklyn queer arts space called Dreamhouse / (formerly known as The Spectrum). My contribution is shaping up to be a retro low polygon 3D brawler called "Dream Hard."

If you want to play it, you'll have to visit The Dreamhouse, which will house the only public display of the game in the world (for the time being), starting in late May 2018.

I don't have much time to work on this, so grounding the concept firmly within a clear retro arcade genre helps me work quickly with less realistic visuals and simplified character art, while also engaging deeply with the arcade tradition of game design. Specifically I'm riffing off one of my favorite genres, beat 'em up games like Die Hard Arcade, X-Men Arcade, Simpsons Arcade, or the iconic Street of Rage series, which all offer breezy brawling with strange setpieces and colorful sets.

Here's some prototype GIFs and notes from my development process...


I don't really care that much about making a "pure" brawler game, and I'm not doing anything radically experimental with the gameplay, so I decided to build off a "Warrior Pack Bundle 1" template that I got for free years ago via the now-discontinued Unity Asset Store "Level 99" promotion.

The assets and character controller script were surprisingly robust, but the author's decision to base everything off of coroutines and then freely interrupting coroutines with StopAllCoroutines() means a lot of random timing errors and race conditions where you never really know if a coroutine will complete, which makes it difficult to manage the character's state. Like, imagine there's a "JumpKick" coroutine that resets the player at the end of the kick -- but if the player gets hit before the kick completes, and the hit calls StopAllCoroutines, then the player won't get properly reset!

After a lot of "defensive programming" I finally got it feeling stable enough, and started doing more AI tests.


I prototyped the basic enemy AI bots rather quickly. It technically uses the same prefabs as the player characters, but with a "use AI" mode activated, which fakes keyboard input to the bot. The end result is systemic consistency, where the bot can do anything a player can do, and vice versa. Unfortunately this fairness ends up feeling unfair to humans, because the AI will just totally gang up on the player and kick their ass with perfectly executed combo attacks. I ended up implementing an "AI skill" parameter that decides how efficiently the bot will circle strafe, attack, and/or react.

Also note the isometric camera perspective. I thought I was going to emulate the 2D perspective of old school brawlers, but it never quite felt right to me. And because I wanted to emulate retro 3D Playstation 1 era graphics, this camera also felt unfaithful and anachronistic: at a time when 3D graphics were still very new, flattening the perspective was precisely the last thing a game developer would want to do.


At that point, I decided to do an art pass. I built out the arena to resemble the main room at The Dreamhouse, and I tried to light the space with a color palette from a moodboard of Dreamhouse photos that I collected from their Facebook page.

I also art passed the characters, improvising a basic procedural character generation system that randomly toggles body parts on/off and chooses random colors. It often results in some very good outfits and looks. Much of this system's power comes from the abstraction of working with a low polygon look -- I can just parent random cubes to the characters joints, to suggest a hair style or a shoe, and it feels consistent enough to me.

Lastly, I did some overall art direction decisions and overhauled the shaders. To get the feeling of an older television, I render the game at 640x360 resolution and then layer this CRT post process shader from demonixis on top, with some minor edits to weaken the overly sharp scanline effect. Note that most Unity projects should use a low resolution render texture to get this pixelation effect, which is resolution independent and thus works well for windowed and HTML5 embed display modes. However, since I'm designing this game specifically for one arcade machine, I can guarantee it will run full screen.

I also relied heavily on this psx_retroshader pack by dsoft20, with its posterize post process and its low precision vertex shader. But then I was encountering problems with the vertex distortion, and I also wanted more control over the degree of distortion... so I mixed in the low precision parts of Keijiro's Retro3D shader, to get the best of both worlds: better vertex distortion from Keijiro as well as vertex lighting / fog support from dsoft20's version. I also have a suspicion that Unity's automatic shader API upgrades might've been "fixing" the distortion and perspective de-correction before, so I added a "UNITY_SHADER_NO_UPGRADE" line to the shader file to make sure it leaves the code alone.

My combined shader code "VertexLit-Retro3D.shader" gist is embedded below if you want it, under MIT license:


Anyway, that's just what I've been up to this month, and hopefully I'll have more progress to show next week when I finish it. Peace out.

new interview: Tone Control with Steve Gaynor, Episode 26

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At GDC 2018, me and Steve Gaynor sat in an empty rehearsal room and nerded out about level design and stuff for nearly two hours. Not only that, but it was also recorded for his developer-focused podcast "Tone Control"?! Make sure you also check out the rest of the Tone Control episodes too, like my colleague Bennett Foddy feebly attempting to defend cricket to a US audience.

Radiator does Australia, Summer 2018 tour (but, like, Winter in Australia though?): Artworld Videogames, August 9-29

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People of Australia! Now hear this!

The kind generous people at Bar SK and the notorious Doug Wilson of RMIT Games, in partnership with National Gallery of Victoria (NGV) and Australian Center for the Moving Image (ACMI), and in conjunction with MEL&NYC Festival (phew, this is a lot of organizations) are running an "Art/world Video_Games" month and bringing three New York City area game designers to Melbourne, Australia this August.

Those people are me, Nicole He, and Zach Gage.

I'll be flying to Melbourne first, with a kick-off exhibition at Bar SK, later followed by a tag-team master class with Nicole He at ACMI. After that, I fly back to NYC and hand over all ceremonial duties to Nicole and Zach, who I'm sure will have further events / appearances planned. For more info and updates on the full Art_world Video-Games schedule, check out the main event page.

While in Melbourne, I'll probably try to hold some kind of open office hours in the afternoon (especially if it's raining) where anyone can talk to me about whatever (... well, within reason...) and I will graciously allow folks to buy me beers (... within reason).

See everyone in August.

So you want to try playing Thief 1

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I've been streaming some Thief 1 for the past month, which has gotten some people interested in trying the game for themselves. You definitely should, especially if you like eclectic first person games, immersive sims, open world games, or walking simulators... it's almost 20 years old, yet it still feels really different and fresh and distinct from anything today.

That said, it can be a bit tricky to play for modern tastes, so here's a bit of advice for getting into Thief:
  • Acquire a copy of Thief Gold. Buy it, borrow it, or uh, get creative... just as long as it's gold: Thief Gold (1999) is the remastered re-release of the original Thief: The Dark Project (1998) game, and it has a bunch of tweaks as well as three new missions. (Well, you should skip one of those new missions because it's terrible, but more on that later.)
  • Get the NewDark mod, a rewritten engine patch for Thief's Dark Engine developed by the player community based on some possibly-stolen source code. But don't be afraid, it's been secretly vetted by the fan community, and the GOG store sells Thief and System Shock 2 with it installed already, so most people agree that it's safe. Basically the mod adds DX9 widescreen support and high screen resolution support, fixes other small issues, and also adds advanced features for mods ("fan missions") you might want to play. Just install Thief as you normally would, and then download and run the installer, and it should automatically detect everything from there. It's also up to you whether to install the "high definition textures", 50% of people think they look worse.
  • Rebind the controls. I forget what the default keyboard bindings are, but they're basically terrible and ignore modern first person genre conventions. Make sure you rebind them according to your own play style. My main bindings are:
    • WASD = Run forward, slide left, etc
    • Shift = Speed Toggle (walk)
    • C = Toggle Crouch
    • Q/E = Lean left, lean right
    • Left Bracket / Right Bracket = Previous / Next in Inventory
    • Left-Click = Attack
    • Right-Click = Use Item / Pickup Item
  • Don't skip the training mission. Thief is from an era of level design where, like Half-Life, the tutorial isn't built directly into the game. You'll need to play the training mission to learn about Thief's distinctive "light gem" mechanic, where the brightness of the floor determines your visibility to enemies. It takes a little while to internalize how this works, and how dark is "dark enough" to sneak past a guard's vision cone. (Fun game design fact: Thief AIs have several different vision cones, to simulate peripheral vision, night vision, and "spidey sense".)
  • Try to play on at least Hard difficulty. If you play on Normal, the game will disable a lot of special objectives that otherwise add lots of richness to the game -- it basically cuts out, like, 25% of the game. If you're a somewhat experienced stealth game player or first person player, just start on Hard. You'll probably die a lot, but at least you'll get the "real experience."
  • Hone your spatial memory or draw a map. Thief levels are really big and unusually complicated for the first person genre, and the in-game map screen is intentionally useless for most missions. If you're confident you can remember how ten different-yet-similar stone rooms connect to each other, then go for it. But if you're someone who easily gets lost, then try treating this as a cartography puzzle, and keep some pen and paper nearby.
  • ... that said, feel free to skip the Thieves Guild mission. It is notoriously regarded as the worst mission in the entire game, even by diehard "taffers" (Thief fans) and it's mostly just a maze of boring tunnels that lasts for 3 hours. To use the level skip cheat, hold down Ctrl + Alt + Shift + End on your keyboard.
  • Be a little reckless, don't plan things too carefully, and try to roll with your mistakes. If you get caught by a guard or trigger an alarm, then don't reload the game. Just run ahead, improvise, and see what happens. It's OK to be detected! Some of the best moments in Thief are when the shit hits the fan and every mistake compounds another mistake, but then you end up surviving anyway. In fact, one of my personal favorite missions is best ONLY when you trigger the alarm.
  • ... that said, it's OK to quick save before every climbing challenge / ladder. There's the fun kind of death where you should've foreseen disaster, and then there's the not-fun kind of death where the game insists you didn't really "grab" the ladder and you plummet to your death repeatedly. The quick save function is a peace offering from the player physics programmers, you're meant to use it, that's why it's there. No shame.
  • Sound propagates realistically around corners and down hallways. You can also listen through doors if you lean into them. It's a cool eavesdropping mechanic.
  • Advanced technique: you can KO guards and animals (but not undead) from the front by leaning forward and booping them on the head at exactly the right time.
  • Even more advanced technique: try not KOing anything and never getting caught. The Thief player community calls this "ghosting."
Whether you're a first-time Thief player, or a long-time taffer who hasn't played it in ten years, welcome!... and good luck.

Games as Research symposium, after-action report

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A month ago I attended a one-day Games As Research symposium, hosted by TAG at Concordia University and organized by Rilla Khaled and Pippin Barr. If you want my rawest thoughts, here's my live tweet thread from that day.

I learned a lot about design history and current methodologies for studying how a game is made. Here's some of the common topics and threads that we kept coming back to, and a brief summary of each presentation:


What should this research do? What are different ways of thinking about thinking about making games?

Rilla Khaled began the day by arguing that industry devs freely share their processes at events like GDC, but academics can't just study that -- North American academic norms dictate that research must resemble science, which means collecting quantitative data, no matter how pointless it might be. Research should mean more than just numbers, it should also include any kind of investigation, and questioning / defining paradigms should count as research too.

And even if you do like all the number-collection paradigms of research, Jonathan Lessard lamented that such "research" is often based on unquestioned assumptions about making games. Like if you crunch some data about proc-gen platformer levels and machine-learning physics that's great, but there's also a vital unspoken question in that case: why did you choose to work in the platformer genre and what was your process for designing that platformer? How does that game design affect the data and conclusions you're making? It seems pretty problematic to pick any one genre trope as the "pure" generalized medium for games research.

Laureline Chiapello argued all this anxiety parallels general design history, where there was a "crisis of relevance" and how to transfer values from applied science to applied arts, and eventually the somewhat effective solution focused on Donald Schön's notion of "reflective practice." We now imagine design as a "conversation with materials."


Game design as craft. Game design is "design" because there is an intended function for a user, and it is also a "craft" that focuses on the forming of an object (a game) from materials.

Gillian Smith brought a crucial focus to this notion of craft, in her game design experiments with diverse workflows like sewing and egg dyeing. Compared to other types of non-digital craft, game design ends up looking soulless and empty. Sewing a quilt for a family member, for example, symbolizes a relationship and leaves an heirloom to pass on, and all that context can literally keep you warm. Why can't you wrap a video game around you to keep you warm?

Craftspeople also develop a unique relationship with the tools they use. Sewing experts prefer certain sewing machines, and can any game engine truly compare to a well-worn hammer passed through generations of craftspeople? We pay attention to player psychology and flow -- but not to designer psychology, or the phenomenology of game development. A game developer moves their mouse in a specific way, a 3D artist understands a 3D interface differently than someone with no 3D experience. This direction begins moving into usability / HCI research territory, but maybe those fields don't have enough concern for critical theory and aesthetics to be so useful to us as game designers.


New methods and case studies. So we know some of the problems researching games / making games as research, but now let's go into some examples about putting this into practice.

Miguel Sicart proposed a shift from game into play design. When you make that shift and step back from tweaking numbers in a spreadsheet, you can pay more attention to how we use those numbers instead of what those numbers are. Miguel points to Phoebe Sengers' research on "critical technical practice" as a good way to teach design and make good work, with a focus on bringing marginalized concepts to the center of your design.

Pippin Barr proposed a study of version control repositories. If making a game can be an act of research, a Git repo serves as a useful archiving tool to centralize all your thinking and process throughout development. So when you commit your code, you should also commit your mindset, and that way you can track your mindset as you work on your game. Pippin's actually done this a few times now, check out his GitHub examples for "It's As If You Were Doing Work" and "b r 1". If you want to know more about his approach, read about their curiously named "MDMA" (Method for Design Materialization and Analysis) theory.


Stéphanie Mader talked about "Le Village aux Oiseaux" (The Town of Birds), a therapeutic first person photography game to help seniors with Alzheimer's develop their perception and memory skills. Even with a funded dev team and dedicated researchers, it took a long time for them to develop a working relationship with doctors. They had to figure out how to design for Alzheimer's / study their audience, and then they had to formalize their game design clearly enough to communicate it to their subject experts. How much are they asking their players to remember and track? In the end, all that data collection left them with "no time for game design", which suggests we're just scratching the surface of stuff like games and learning / games for change, and we're going to need a lot more rigor and research to figure out how to do any of it properly.

Emma Westecott applies feminist performance theory to understanding games, focusing on the player / designer's cultural position in society. She even ran a feminist game jam called "SYSTEM.FAILURE" where participants were fed meals (!) went home at 6pm (!!) and were paid for their work (!?!). Wow, labor-aware intersectional feminism sounds pretty great huh? But it also suggests an interesting direction for investigating game jams as research.


Owen Gottlieb talked about making historical AR games for kids, and the difficulty of designing and running any type of research experiment involving human subjects in an academic setting. His project had players roleplay as reporters interviewing different historical figures surrounding the notorious Triangle Shirtwaist Factory fire of 1911. He emphasized the importance of documentation for research; they know the game worked only because they got permission to record all the kids' reactions as they played. Owen also pointed to designer Ira Fay's visual documentation for a game called The Tomes (pictured above) where they kept meticulous track of all the different UI screen designs and iterations throughout development.

Oh, and I gave a presentation too, I guess. I talked about how I think of my gay sex games as a sort of "sex design" research, but also a very formal inquiry into writing as a form of game design. That is, I'm one of the few people in games who writes artist statements about my intent and influences -- and I start writing my artist statements early in my development process, to try to check my work and figure out if my thing is actually doing what I say it's doing. Sometimes, I'll end up writing about what I wish the game did, and so I change the game to fit my statement's claims. Then I showed a bunch of sexy hunks to the academics, and much fun was had by all.

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So how does one research games / understand games as research? It seems like a lot of the burden is on designers to develop critical consciousness and foresight to document everything they're doing.

Like as much as I love Pippin's use of the Git repo as a general design archive, I also don't trust any non-developer to understand what's going on in my repo. Any hypothetical non-expert scholars would probably need some kind of code archaeology tool to visualize certain aspects of the repo, or to flag certain commits or code fragments for inquiry / explanation from subject experts or the author. Maybe someone should make this "accessible code review" tool someday?...

After the presentations, we also discussed how to fit this work into the existing machinery of academic research / what a government funding body would want to hear. The idea of research-creation or research-as-creation is still relatively new in academia, which is still reeling from the relative failure or lukewarm reception of the digital humanities. Organizing money and people, doing good work, and then publicizing that work, is still a hard problem.

Still, I left the symposium full of Tim Bits (don't ask), energy, and renewed sense of purpose. At least we have a direction! Now we just have a lot of work ahead of us...

On the indie story RPG's use of "encounter-space" and Fortune-499

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This post spoils some gameplay systems / moments in Fortune-499 and its general themes, but none of the specific plot events.

I just finished playing Fortune-499, a short stylish story RPG replete with millennial career angst and light deckbuilding. It does what other strong indie story RPGs like Undertale do: it actually questions the logic of its battle and progression systems, exploring its own design space for narrative effect.

Few video games ever do this. Acclaimed AAA RPGs like Final Fantasy 12 ask you to fight many monsters and level-up via "license boards" or whatever, but rarely explore what those metaphors mean / interrogate the logic of these metaphors within the game world.

So if a game is about programming your party members with "gambits" as a metaphor for command and decision-making, then isn't it weird that you have to buy gambits at shops? Does that mean poor people in this fantasy world literally have less sophisticated reasoning and mental capacity because they can't afford better gambits? Or if a character has low self-esteem, shouldn't that affect their license board / upgrade tree, which is a metaphor for self-improvement and growing-up -- or vice versa, if there's a story beat where they renew their commitment and self-confidence, shouldn't they get a million experience points to emphasize their growth? (This isn't over-thinking it, this is just a demand for designers to follow through on their metaphors.)

Of course Final Fantasy 12 isn't alone on this, and AAA games don't usually care about this dissonance / disconnect, while most gamers probably don't even notice it anymore. However, I think Fortune-499 is one of those rare exquisite indie story RPGs that really does care enough to ask questions about its own game systems.


fan art by SimonWL
In Fortune-499, you play as Cassandra, an everyday office witch who checks e-mail, complains about the printer, and banishes monsters for her company. To fight monsters, you play several rounds of rock paper scissors, but you can alter the AI's likely choice by drawing magical cards that affect probability. And just like any deckbuilding game, counting cards and re-ordering your deck is crucial for winning duels.

But later in the game, you'll meet a character who ignores probability and plays artlessly, spamming offensive spells with all the MP he bought with his privilege. Worse yet, everyone thinks he's better than you! Thus, the game sets up this parallel between the tech industry and the magic industry: you can thoughtfully engineer number systems (your card deck) to solve problems, but social systems like sexism continue to undermine your career and give all the credit to male "wizards" instead of higher-skilled witches.

The game continues its systemic critique through to the end, ultimately arguing that the RPG genre's singleminded focus on leveling up and completing dungeon-after-dungeon is not healthy. Quests symbolize work, and constant work takes a psychological toll on your character. If grind and dungeon-runs are also metaphors for work, then over-grinding would clearly lead to burnout. (puts on backwards baseball cap) Whoa, I guess the ultimate level-up is achieving a healthy work-life balance!!


I also like what Fortune-499 does with its cards. When drawn out of your deck, most cards do something like "+4 chance of AI playing Rock", but later you get cards that give you additional health or mana, while some cards hurt you or change how the battle works. For one boss battle, you have to rig your own deck so that you draw the perfect tableau of cards to undo the boss shield; for another boss, you have to lose on-purpose and somehow rig the odds against yourself. All these surprising systems variations and puzzle concepts usually tie heavily into the whole dungeon's theme.

However, my favorite use of the cards is a fairly mundane case: in some dungeons there are locked doors, so you need keys to unlock these doors, and these keys are "key" cards!

If the logic of this game world is cards, then it makes sense to represent other mechanics (and crucial plot points) using cards too. A lesser designer would've implemented a separate key inventory system, but Fortune-499 carefully slots these functions together. When you end up drawing these key cards during battle, they're useless in combat and you feel silly for stockpiling so many key cards into your deck -- but even then, there's an encounter when they're not so useless in battle anymore... and then that's it, the game doesn't make you fight 20 more battles with key cards. Thus, the game concisely explores the space around key cards without any repetitive gestures. There's not many "filler puzzles" or "filler encounters" here.


Really, the only painful misstep of Fortune-499 is one level with a frustratingly cryptic "Lost Woods"-type of teleportation room maze puzzle. Up until then, the game does a good job of hinting what to do for its setpieces... then suddenly, this obtuse thing with little warning or explanation, oops.

As a public service, here's some hints the game could've had. Highlight each hint to reveal in order of increasing spoilage:

(HINT 0:) if you see a plant, it doesn't matter, ignore it
(HINT 1:) pay attention to the icons around each exit, what do they resemble?
(HINT 2:) the correct path is long, listed somewhere in the game
(HINT 3:) use the filing cabinet
(SOLUTION:) the card order in your deck is the path you need to take; like if the top of your deck is a +4 Rock card, that means you have to use the Rock exit four times, etc. and the only way to see your deck order is to use the filing cabinet (the "Deck" option in the game menu just shows you what's in your deck, but not the actual order) (this is actually pretty clever and interesting, I just wish I could've solved this without looking through some random forum posts)



But anyway, Fortune-499 still has plenty of charm to compensate for that brief low point. The CMYK color scheme and pixel art feels fresh and great, the music is pretty catchy, and anything that has the shameless audacity to mix Office Space and Kiki's Delivery Service together deserves special regard.

This is an indie story RPG that is confident about its story, storytelling methods, world, and characters, all united with a very novel probability-based battle system. Across several different levels, it also maps out its own variation-space in a way that I usually associate with high-concept "pure" puzzle games like English Country Tune, A Good Snowman Is Hard To Build, Stephen's Sausage Roll, or The Witness. These games have Puzzles with a capital P, and I like them, but they always seem like hard mathematical proofs instead of soft metaphors for self-reflection.

I argue that an "encounter" is something less rigid / formal than a puzzle. Games like Undertale, or Hylics, or the more obscure Winter Voices, use encounters to destabilize their own systems and assumptions. When you play a Final Fantasy game and level-up your endgame party into a giant ball of power and death, the game world never acknowledges that dynamic -- but the indie story RPG has the self-awareness to contextualize that progression and reflect it back at you.

It's about what our many "encounters" mean to us, and understanding that encounter-space means we understand ourselves better. In that case, Fortune-499 might even be a bit ashamed about how many different encounters it has, but fortunately, it never ends up feeling like work.

9/10

(disclosure: me and the Fortune-499 developers work in the same workplace)

(see also: Fortune-499 strikes me as a post-bildungsspiel sort of game, where the protagonist has grown up, but doesn't like what they've grown into)

Remastering Rinse and Repeat

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Rinse and Repeat remastered, for Radiator 3 (2018)
Rinse and Repeat (2015)
I'm nearing the end of the remaster process for my shower game Rinse and Repeat, as part of a future re-release planned for late 2018. As I've said before: if you have the time and energy, I highly recommend remastering your games -- you get to revisit all the compromises and sacrifices you inflicted on yourself, and now you're not desperate to get the game out the door -- you can finally do things calmly and properly.

The time difference helps you see the project with new eyes. In my case, it's been about two and a half years since the original Rinse and Repeat release in October 2015. Game engine technology has changed, my skills and tastes have changed, and it's surprisingly therapeutic to revisit my past decisions. Like, why did I give everything a weird green tinge? I don't remember. Maybe I had good reasons that I've now forgotten.

Here's some of the specific changes I made to the shower scene, and some of my reasoning:



First, you'll notice the whole scene is generally less colorful and more dark gray. Above, I've pixelated the two screenshots to emphasize the colors.

Much of that change comes from upgrading my materials to use physically-based shaders, and adding a post-process stack to do some basic color grading on the camera. The result is a much more consistent photographic feel, without the blown-out neon green highlights of the older art style. While I feel bad about how the colors are more boring now, the game is already pretty surreal, so I decided it was more important to setup the game with normality and match contemporary game aesthetics.


Lately I've been paying more attention to materials. The original had poorly defined materials, where every tile had the same identical sheen, because I basically used the same tile textures for the ground and the walls. But after inspecting many bathrooms and locker rooms, I've noticed the wall tiles are often very smooth and glossy, while the floor tiles usually have more friction and noise. I realized I had to make these materials read better, and distinguish more between the wall and floor. This differentiation would help players visually understand the scene more easily.

For the tile wall, I found some photosource of slightly old smooth tiles with slightly offset alignments. Those small offsets were key to selling the age of this shower room. Once I swapped the new albedo texture onto the wall, it fit almost instantly. I didn't even change the normal map, it's technically using the same normal map as the floor, just at a different tiling scale.


Next, I noticed the composition felt a bit sparse, with no small clutter details / set-dressing to anchor the scale of the space. There's generally two rules of thumb when it comes to detail placement:

Try to balance the amount of big objects (wall forms, in yellow) and medium-sized objects (furniture, in magenta) and small objects (bottles, cans, leaves, in cyan)... but if you want a place to feel cleaner, err on fewer small clutter objects.

When you place medium-sized and small-sized objects, try to have some in the foreground and some in the midground / background. Notice there's a shower fixture near the player as well as far from the player; some shampoo and soap bottles are also at the player's feet, as well as the far wall. The viewer will assume these objects are the same size, and use that to judge distances. (You can also exploit this assumption, which is called forced perspective.)


My last addition was the dark wall stripes, to add more of an institutional feeling. If you examine public gym showers, especially older mid-century showers, they sometimes have a stripe bisecting across the walls. I think it helps demarcate the area like a line of caution tape, but also in the manner of a large public swimming pool with its tiled transitions. I also like how it adds more visual weight at eye-level and accentuates / unifies the shower fixtures.


For the game, I didn't want to make a separate wall texture variant with some stripes painted on. So in the game world, these stripes are technically just some long semi-translucent sprites layered over the walls.

It's nothing fancy, but I think bringing this graphic design sensibility to level design is often helpful. It also helps breaks up the big wall shape into several "medium-scale shapes", which were previously lacking in the older version, and I think the composition feels more balanced now.


I'm also updating the hunk. I didn't have much time for the original release, so his teeth were just a light gray cube embedded in his mouth. In this new version, I've finally given him proper teeth... but again, I went for a quick solution that would be "good enough" for my purposes. Because the hunk is almost always facing toward the camera whenever he speaks, I've found that this flat teeth card works surprisingly well.

There'll be a few other surprises in this remastered version, but I fear I've already said too much...

Until next time.

Why I'm not super excited about Valve's new Steam policy

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In case you haven't heard: Valve recently announced it won't attempt to moderate the content on Steam anymore except when legally required to, or when it's "obvious trolling", whatever that is.

On the face of it, this is supposedly a net-win for queer people and marginalized creators. Supposedly I'll be able to publish as much dick as I want! But after many years of dealing with platforms, and their intentionally vague policies and selective enforcement, I've grown extremely wary of these many public statements that promise to do better, and then never do. Even if this new policy is for real, I can easily imagine a future where Valve suddenly changes its mind to disallow my games -- I'm used to being treated as a "controversial" edge case in games, and all these companies have successfully trained me not to trust them or take their word for it.

There's a lot to unpack in Valve's post, and you can read a lot of different editorials all around the internet for the full scope of those ideas. Personally I'm not interested in regulating "spam games" or "asset flips", and my analysis will focus more on my experience and attitude in using Steam as a developer.

I think one big problem with "Who Gets To Be On The Steam Store" is that it doesn't recognize how some developers are more On The Steam Store than others.

1. "No moderation" as no relationship

If gatekeeping is about who holds power and access to the platform, then fixing Steam's gatekeeping involves fixing Valve's broken relationship with small developers and creators.

Was this new policy supposed to help me, personally, with one of the most-banned highest-profile gay erotic games on Steam? I don't know! They never talk to me!! Gosh, why am I so ungrateful and insolent, why can't I read their minds?

It'd help if I (or any Steam dev) could reliably talk to a Steam rep or several, it'd help if Steam reps would automatically talk to first-time devs and ask if they had any questions, it'd help if I could get a sense of how Valve treats other developers to know if I'm being treated fairly... it would help if Valve would recognize the existing power dynamic and work to counteract that.

I don't know how many people Valve should hire or what that ideal engagement process looks like. I'm also not sure if I see a real difference between oppressive people or oppressive systems (designed by people). I just want the outcome of more robust transparency, better communication, and a healthier relationship with my benevolent corporate overlord somehow, which would mean more to me than a stated policy that may or may not happen.

Some developers are more equal than others. I get it. I'm sure some people deserve great healthy relationships with Valve, and I'm sure they take impeccable selfies in front of the valve sculpture in the lobby and everything. This policy will preserve their great relationships / active line of communication, while I get to maintain my non-relationship and non-communication. What a great win for me.

Valve's blog post seems to argue that the best relationship (at least for the least lucrative devs) is no relationship, and some magical content filters / the invisible sacred hand of capitalism will solve racism. (The anime-filter joke, after a recent and shocking Steam ban threat against previously approved "sexy anime games", also feels a bit tone-deaf. They don't seem to understand how that threat has hurt a lot of people.)

2. "No moderation" as crowd-sourced gatekeeping

The hands-off approach also doesn't address the toxic communities that make managing a Steam presence such a burdensome risk. Instead, it invites conservative hate mobs and racists to claim more power across Steam, and they will further weaponize the bad faith already afforded to them.

"Just ignore them." Blocking bigots on my accounts barely even helps me personally, and definitely does not help my audience or players subjected to their abuse. Are my many anti-gay "reviewers" entitled to use my store page to tell gay people they're disgusting, are they allowed to harass my players on the Steam forum that Valve forces me to maintain? Can alt-right white nationalists review-bomb games with black protagonists? Do they count as dangerous racist harassers, or are they just "harmlessly" theorizing mass violence and deportation against people of color? And how helpful are US hate speech and harassment laws here anyway? (Hint: often very difficult to litigate, acts as a minimal floor for only the most extreme cases, if even that.)

No one is saying this work is simple. It's definitely easier for a company to disengage. It's more profitable for them too. But if you believe some causes are more important than profits, then Valve's new non-policy ends up feeling like a weird retreat instead of a proactive investment towards inclusion and retention.

Their stated focus on being a neutral platform is worrying. You could argue that no neutrality is possible when Valve collects a hefty share of sales from every game, including the assorted homophobia simulators and misogyny simulators, thus encouraging these awful communities to feel tacitly supported on Steam. Offending other users isn't just about an "inconvenient" user experience, it's also about intimidation and forcing people off the platform. How can I ever feel truly welcome and included in any place like that? Is the idea that "racists deserve to be heard" really a "neutral" stance? (My opinion: no.)

Conservative forces in games want to make the psychological burden of being on Steam as high as possible. This policy seems to encourage them to do that, and alt-right communities basically celebrated Valve's decision.

3. "No moderation" as no governance
    My NYU Game Center colleague Bennett Foddy argues that relying on Valve to fix Steam establishes a dangerous reliance on a corporation to govern its users, and instead it's better to have an elected government with legal and regulatory institutions to truly bring Steam into compliance. In the most extreme case, we should perhaps nationalize Steam, to hold it more accountable in this legal sense.

    We should definitely reshape the industry so that we don't need trust or benevolence from corporations. That's an admirable long term goal if there's a less-terrible national government involved. However I think we've already passed this terrible point where corporations are already acting as governments, and the terrible dystopian future of "corporate responsibility" is already happening. Until the revolution, I also support the medium term goal of breaking Steam's monopoly on PC game sales by supporting more socially-engaged storefronts like Itch.io.

    But in the short term and likely scenario, the game industry doesn't change and many people continue to rely on Valve and Steam.

    These people will probably need more than a pinky swear that everything will be OK, and I think that starts with (a) more direct relationships / conversations between Valve and vulnerable people on Steam, and (b) better moderation to make Steam less of a stressful annoying dangerous place that we're forced to exist in.

    Maybe the most likely outcome is that Valve will (c) let all the vulnerable people continue to feel neglected and burn out from Steam anyway, and then (d) years later, implement an opt-in nazi filter that the nazis will delight in circumventing.

    I wish I could end this blog post with a more hopeful note! So, uh, imagine I did.

    (Comments are disabled, sorry. Writing this post has already taken too much of my life.)

    PRACTICE 2018, June 21-23 in New York City

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    Hey all, just a quick reminder about PRACTICE 2018, a yearly eclectic game design conference put on by my employers and colleagues at NYU Game Center. It's happening very soon, during this coming weekend in New York City, June 21-23.

    I go to stuff like GDC all the time, and I'm often frustrated by huge industry events' limitations -- they're huge crowded anonymous affairs that must cater to an entire field and assume a wide general audience, or they focus too narrowly on a technical detail without reflecting on deeper implications. At this point, GDC probably can't change itself very much, but what if there were a bunch of different events that could do what GDC can't?

    So I think this is one way of making the game design conference we'd like to see in the world. The PRACTICE speaker lineup is tightly curated, seeking a variety of deep case studies as well as deep primers outside the niche world of video game design. Generally, there's usually at least one tabletop game design speaker and one sports design speaker, and this variety helps a lot. In the past, there's been professional poker players, race car data scientists, breakdancers, rock climbers, all going into the actual problems and examples they work with -- as well as AAA game designers talking about combat systems and indie developers talking about game feel. There are zero 101-level intro talks here.

    Basically, this is a conference for working game designers who already kinda follow what's going on, but appreciate deep critical takes on what's happening. Unlike a lot of these types of events, the post-talk Q&A actually has some good audience questions and isn't terrible! It's also great if you want a more laidback environment where you can chat with everyone, instead of running to the next party and apologizing to the folks you missed.

    If you live in the New York City area, I hope to see you there -- and if you live outside NYC, maybe you should look at some last minute airfare deals... and the city is especially lovely this time of year too, you know...


    Dream Hard as queer brawler defense

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    This post spoils the gameplay and ending of my game Dream Hard.

    In collaboration with local arcade collective Death by Audio Arcade, me and several other gay / queer artists made games for a Brooklyn queer arts space called The Dreamhouse. My contribution was a retro low polygon 3D brawler called Dream Hard. If you ever find yourself around the Bushwick or Ridgewood neighborhoods in New York City, you can play this (and many other queer games) on The DreamboxXx cabinet at The Dreamhouse.

    While making this game, I was interested in what it means to appropriate a game genre with queer intent, and I wanted to figure out why the brawler genre would be a good fit for this kind of aesthetic. Some of my early prototyping and design direction is already covered in an earlier post. I wanted something that recognizably belonged to the arcade era, while staying fairly simple and accessible to a general audience.

    Much of my personal memory of arcades focuses on big licensed beat 'em up games like the X-Men brawler cabinet or The Simpsons arcade tie-in. I also liked playing old 16-bit console games like Golden Axe II or Streets of Rage 2 on the Sega Genesis, but neither of those franchises exists today. Other than a few notable indie releases, the classic brawler game is mostly dead. I wanted to channel my nostalgia for these games toward The Dreamhouse.


    First, let's consider the brawler genre and all its accompanying baggage.

    The politics of brawlers like Streets of Rage (1991) come from a history of redlining and "inner cities", infrastructural failure for poor people of color, and the associated anxieties of films like The Warriors (1979) or Escape From New York (1981) where the city is a "no-go zone" supposedly swarming with criminals. In turn, those movies were heavily inspired by 1960-1970s NYC, especially events like the 1977 Blackout, when neighborhoods like Bushwick were some of the most devastated, dangerous, and poorest areas in the entire city. (Also see Shawn Alexander's brawler-tactics game Treachery in Beatdown City for a related take on beat 'em up politics.)

    But I feel like Streets of Rage, The Warriors, or Escape From New York's miraculous dream of journey and escape from the crime-ridden city isn't completely relevant to the gentrifying reality of Bushwick / Ridgewood today. This is the neighborhood where The Dreamhouse lives, and hopes to remain. In particular, The Dreamhouse began as The Spectrum, a queer performance space that was gentrified and expelled from Williamsburg. Today, the story is less about escape, and more about fighting to stay!


    Coincidentally, Streets of Rage games often have anti-capitalist populist narratives which argue that underserved urban neighborhoods are the intentional products of corrupt governments and the greedy corporate elite.

    The original Streets of Rage 1 famously begins by warning you not to trust cops. (The actual backstory is a bit more complicated: your characters are ex-cops who seek to reform the police force.) As you fight your way through city streets and industrial zones, you must defeat all the corrupt cops and street gangs united by a corporate crime boss named Mr. X. Throughout the entire Streets of Rage series, each installment has featured a prominent climactic showdown with Mr. X, who usually wears a suit and waits for you at the top of a skyscraper.

    The fan favorite Streets of Rage 2 also features a stage progression which is clearly about how automation will affect the working class. This isn't an accident, this is an intentionally constructed Japanese game industry retelling of US politics to a US audience.



    Sure, these games feature flamboyant neon-wearing street punks oozing with power and sexuality, and you must fight them, but the bored suit-wearing chairman is always pulling the strings at the top. Even though you're basically brawling with Grimes clones, the ultimate enemy in Streets of Rage is always an Elon Musk figure who totes a variety of guns and unfair high-tech weaponry.

    (At the same time, we mustn't induct these works into a mythical perfect social justice canon. Streets of Rage's treatment of its black and brown characters is kind of weird sometimes, while the original Japanese version of Streets of Rage 3 had a leather queen midboss named Ash who was obviously meant as a homophobic insult, etc.)

    What would it take to imagine something more genuinely queer, intended as such from the very beginning, instead of relying on wishful projections of queerness onto some mostly normative media? And how do I reconcile this with The Dreamhouse's history / context in Brooklyn?


    That's why Dream Hard only takes place in one screen, in one room. There are no scrolling backdrops or additional rooms or flashing "GO" arrow. Most brawlers cast you as a trespasser forced to move through enemy territory, but here I invert that relationship to emphasize how your enemies are the invaders. This place is your place, you belong here.

    My combat mechanics mostly resemble Streets of Rage 2. Each character has a basic attack to be chained into a combo, and a special attack that costs some health but is very effective against a crowd of enemies / escaping a mob. As much as I love games like Streets of Rage or Die Hard Arcade, I avoided implementing any of the typical brawler throws or dash moves because (a) I didn't have time and (b) I also wanted to keep the game fairly simple and casual for the club-going audience at The Dreamhouse.

    I also implemented two different character classes. A "karate" class runs fast with long combos but with a small attack radius and little endurance, while a "brute" class attacks with a short combo of big heavy swings and moves very slowly with twice as much health. There's also a simple revival system that lets players rescue each other, to encourage cooperation.


    To try to compensate for the overwhelming normativity of these gameplay systems, I decided to spice it up with something from the gayest of all video game genres: the JRPG. The Dreamhouse cabinet designed by DBAA has an extra big button shared by both players in the middle of the panel, so I thought this button would be good for some kind of ultimate ability. In the JRPG, that ability is the "summon", which usually brings a miraculous supernatural being into the game to fight on behalf of the players.

    In Dream Hard, the summon character is always a hovering glowing golden goddess (pictured in the center, below) who descends from the sky, heals and revives both players, and then proceeds to mercilessly beat up enemies until her time runs out. This pattern is similar to Final Fantasy 12's implementation of the JRPG summon, which spawns a super-powered AI-controlled ally for a limited amount of time. I think this mechanic fulfills a core pleasure of many action games, the act of watching the AI fight another AI on your behalf. When you fight for others, then others will also fight for you.


    The dance ending sequence (pictured above) was the very last thing I implemented. I wanted to invoke themes of survival, fatigue, dreams, and celebration with a short epilogue sequence at the end of the game. Unlike most action games, in Dream Hard every defeated enemy's body remains on the floor and does not disappear. By the end of the game, there are 50+ crumbled bodies everywhere, obscuring most of the dance floor, rendering it damaged and unrecognizable. Defending a space, even when necessary, does inflict a cost on a space.

    But as the floor gradually fills with dancers, you clean-up the floor and celebrate who was displaced. It's a bit of a cheesy feel-good pep talk, but that kind of radical upfront communal hope feels necessary and queer to me in 2018. This tone is the also the crux of the DIY punk aesthetics like The Dreamhouse, necessary to cope with limited resources and spaces by showing up for each other. If society thinks queer people are trash, then we'll work together to make trash fashionable and exciting.

    To cement this campy "let's revel in our own trash" approach, I choreographed the ending dance scene to build-up to a meme track by Renim: it's a ridiculous mashup of that Shooting Star meme synthwave track with a pitched-up version of "I'll Make A Man Out Of You" from the Disney film Mulan... and true to the tradition of mashups, it works way better than you'd think.



    When paired with a jubilant queer disco dance floor scene, I argue that this track (especially the second half) is transformed from a winking meme mashup, and into a classic 1970s gay dance anthem mocking the public performance of masculinity. It does this while evoking a 2016 viral video meme that simultaneously nostalgizes the closing of the Spectrum and reopening of The Dreamhouse in October 2016.

    Of course, no one could hear any of the sound at the premiere party anyway. The May 26 debut of the DreamboxXx arcade cabinet coincided with their notorious monthly "Ova The Rainbow" late night rager, and the room was full of wall-thumping dance music and fashionable neon-strobed bodies writhing around the floor.

    It was probably the loudest, gayest, sweatiest, and most intense video game release dance party ever, perhaps in the history of the world? I was impressed. Local blog The Gothamist even covered the event, with lots of great photos of sweaty fashionable beautiful gay people playing video games.

    photo of The Dreamhouse on May 26, 2018, by Walter Wlodarczyk, for The Gothamist
    If you're a local NYC community organization who wants to host their own arcade night / wants their own arcade cabinet with unique games, you should maybe get in touch with the folks at Death By Audio Arcade. I also want to acknowledge all the other folks who made games for the cabinet:

    Haitham Ennasr made "Local Informant", Eddie Cameron made "Queer Space"... (and I'll add more to this list as they finish their pages!)

    You can play Dream Hard, along with many other great gay and queer themed games by local artists, on the DreamboxXx at The Dreamhouse, 1022 Wyckoff Ave near the Halsey L stop. A complete playthrough (finishing all 8 waves) takes about 10 minutes. And for more technical details on the development process, see my previous post with my early prototypes and shader notes.

    Lastly, can also download your own copy of Dream Hard and play it on your own computer. 100% of sales / tips / donations (minus processing fees) will be donated to Make The Road New York, a local grassroots organization dedicated to immigrant rights and social justice.

    The DreamboxXx Bundle

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    Me and my collaborators on The DreamboxXx project (the commission for my recent game Dream Hard) have launched a queer arcade bundle. In the tradition of past social justice oriented game bundles like Devs With Ferguson, the proceeds from this bundle will benefit local queer / trans / pro-immigrant nonprofits.

    It's a limited-time offer, running from June 24 - July 24, and it consists of 8 games for $8, a 69% discount off the $26.23 retail value. (Nice!!) Here's the blurb / more info:
    Most of these games are for two players, all can be played on the keyboard, and the majority are cooperative. Most of these games are also experimental, and don't really fit the standard idea of a traditional arcade game. These games include:
    • queer sex party simulator about lovingly eating cuties before the last train
    • stark auto-biographical explorations of social anxiety
    • a day at the beach, because you deserve it
    • an abstract notebook about migration and queerness
    • retro 3D brawler about fighting fascists, in glorious Playstation-era graphics
    • gay space RPG about fucking friendly aliens
    • a competitive arena game about gay orbs... I mean, it's orbtown, enough said
    • cooperative strategy game where you literally create a safe space large enough to rescue the entire planet
    Most importantly, all these games were made by LGBTQ people to support their community!Proceeds from this bundle will go toward local social justice non-profits of each artist's choice, such as the Sylvia Rivera Law Project(local legal-aid organization serving low-income people of color who are trans, intersex, or nonbinary) and Make The Road New York(local grassroots organization dedicated to immigrant rights and working class communities)
    We hope you consider donating toward these worthy causes, and thanks for everyone's support!
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