Most of the time I’m doing work at home, I’ve been set up on the kitchen table, on counter tops, and on any surface that can accommodate me and a laptop no matter how cramped or uncomfortable. So, as a belated birthday gift, my wife took it upon herself to clear a room, strip the wallpaper, paint and decorate it with my things so that I can have my own space for creativity and relaxation.

Once the room was ready, all of my stuff came out of storage. Tons of anime and gaming artbooks, posters, prints, and other memorabilia finally came into the light of day after a decade in darkness. It was a past I had long shunned. Yet, my wife took great pains and gentle graceful steps to put these long forsaken treasures into places of honor in our house.

I had been very bitter about anime and gaming for nearly a decade and put most of these things away in frustration. Part of the reason why I had become bitter was guilt by association. I spent an egregious amount of money on anime and video games to cope with some of the most difficult and trying times of my life and I found very little return on my investment. But mostly, it was because of youthful arrogance in believing that I was somehow better than the “average” otaku or the “average” gamer and a sense of shame that I was once “one of the masses.”

With otaku and gamers, it is very easy to garner a superiority complex. In almost every new game or animation release, you can find someone with the attitude believing that “I was there when games/anime were good and now they suck.” I believed that. It was part of my motivation for getting into video game design because I know better than you all and can show you through the sheer might of my talent and skill.

I was wrong.

Yet, it took many years of marriage and parenthood to begin to start showing me the error of my ways. (Yes… I am a typical male in that way.)

The first thing to go was my cynicism about games. It is simply impossible to be cynical when seeing the delight and surprise in the eyes of a child. There are many gamers who disdain Nintendo for ruthlessly exploiting their intellectual property year in and year out. Yet, the splendor and wonder in my sons’ eyes reminds me that these games were not meant for me, but for them.

How can I turn up my nose and remain cynical when after a long day of work, I come home to find my non-gamer wife and my two boys jumping and laughing as their mommy tries to get Mario across impossible platforms in his latest title? I can’t help but crack a smile every time I hear my wife say “Oh! How cute!” or laugh at myself for falling off the same platform for the 20th time to be greeted with cheers from my boys saying “Do it again, Daddy!”

In the last couple weeks, I bought a copy of the first season of the Generation 1 Transformers from the 1980s for my eldest son who is almost 5. Watching this old TV series together with him, I was able to pick out the many flaws of the series. There was voices out of sync and with the wrong characters, there was some broken animation and even wrong coloring in places, and I was able to pick out some major plot holes. Yet my son was just entranced by the world of Transformers.

He would laugh at the jokes, cheer at beating the evil Decepticons, and imitate some of the fisticuffs of these giant robots battling evil. Within 2 weeks of introducing Transformers to my son, he can tell me the names of all the Autobots and Decepticons on sight and what their special powers are. He didn’t see the flaws that I saw. He saw a world of possibilities. And this summer, he gets to see his Dad play “The War for Cybertron“, a Transformers game set in the Generation 1 world.

There were two concrete events that happened recently that got me to rethink my whole attitude on games, anime, gamers and otaku.

In 2007, my wife gave birth to our second son only 2 weeks before an anime convention. She was supposed to run the Artist Alley where all the amateur and professional artists gather and sell their wares. But because the baby was so little, I went in her stead and ran the Anime USA Artist Alley. My wife has a stellar reputation of running artist alley, so I was under extra pressure to maintain her high standards.

During the course of the weekend, security was overwhelmed, especially for several of the main events including the concert. Since the Artist Alley was next to the main events area, I took it upon myself to ensure the safety of many of our guests. This included maintaining an orderly waiting line during some of the big events of the weekend.

The problem was that security did not prepare enough space for proper waiting lines so we defaulted to using dangerous fire escapes and stairwells just to keep the crowd under control. I cannot tell you how nervous I was. These were deplorable conditions and if not handled properly could lead to people getting seriously hurt or trampled.

But people were very patient. These “weirdos” wearing strange and often bizarre costumes were incredibly understanding and even grateful despite our the poor planning. When it came time to move the lines, people walked in an orderly manner and no one lost their place. This happened several times throughout the weekend, and each time my staff was greeted with the same joy, gratitude, and patience.

It is so easy to think badly of people when you hear of shopping riots. Or even to think the worse of gamers and otaku who have no qualms of saying the worst about one another on the Internet. But in their physical presence, and in some very trying circumstances, the average person I met was more than happy to be there and were thankful for even the mediocre job we were doing.

It broke my heart. How can I think that I am better than these people?

What sealed the deal for me was the band that played that year: “Back On.” They are relatively unknown except for a couple songs that played as part of an anime soundtrack for Air Gear, but despite the language barriers their music just moved me.

That weekend, after many years of cynicism, I was convinced of the fundamental goodness of the average person. For all their flaws and bad fashion sense, humanity still has that core goodness.

Amongst the music and the dancing lights, I saw the very goodness that God put into man, made in his image and likeness. Man is a tragically flawed character, yet created with an unchangeable nature that seeks and thirsts after the good, the beautiful and the true.

It is this natural drive that brings all these people into packed halls year after year. They come together seeking friendship, meaning, camaraderie, and joy in sharing the stories told to us in games and in animation. It is the inborn desire to be part of something meaningful that brings us together in these strangely dressed halls.

This was the seed that was planted in my heart that year. It only germinated this year when I was confronted with my very own attitude. It was time to break that chain.

America has been going through some trying times which is bringing up a lot of deep issues even amongst friends.  It was only a few days ago, that while debating a friend of mine, he said to me, “We have to agree that the average person doesn’t understand what is even best for them, much less the country.”  This gave me pause.  And in that moment, I saw.

That was me, once.

And it was then I realized why we disagreed…  It is because I believe in the average person.

All of this interest in movies and anime is the average person striving to find meaning in his or her life. I find that this drive to play games as people who are looking to be part of meaningful stories and to be heroes. Heroes are not perfect people or “knights in shining armor.” Heroes will make mistakes and do stupid things. Heroes will have dark pasts and angst. But I believe that deep down, everyone is born with the desire to have done something truly meaningful given the freedom to do so.

And that is why we play games. It is practice and waiting for our time… To be called.

My wife gave me a gift as the final piece to the room: a beautiful statue of Gwendolyn from “Odin Sphere” as the centerpiece.  As I gazed upon her,  I came to realize the largest block to my ability to creating something as beautiful in games and art:

How can I create beauty and meaning for someone I disdain?

For the past 10 years, I’ve believed the lie of my own superiority above the average person.  Yet, it is the average person for whom I will make games and tell stories. I cannot truly create something meaningful or beautiful for them without great humility and love for the common man and his freedom.

That is what so moved me about the TED Talk by the beautiful Jane McGonigal.  She exuded a deep love and awe for gamers when most people just write them off.

I’ve forgotten how to love games and the people who play them.  I’ve forgotten how to love anime, the stories it tries to tell, and the otaku who love them.  This beautiful statue of Gwendolyn is a reminder to me of the things I’ve forgotten.  It is a reminder to me that there is still room to be utterly surprised and delighted by the games people create today – with inspiring beauty, moving stories, and meaningful experiences and a deep love of life and freedom that I wish to give to my fellow man… The common man.

I believe in the future of games.

I believe in the future of anime.

I believe in gamers.

I believe in otaku.

I believe… In the average person…

A hero waiting to be called.

Ten years ago, I was just getting out of college and barely dragging myself over the finish line.  At the time, my academic record, personal life and spiritual life was in pieces.  Had it not been for the understanding, encouragement and kindness of my instructors, I would not have passed.

It was from this standpoint that I entered my professional career: with no confidence in my own abilities because I had thought that my merits were not deserved.  It has only been over the last few months that I realize how I have spent the last decade trying to prove to them and to myself that I deserved their trust.

I have been blessed with many good jobs, many good managers and coworkers, and with many opportunities for growth – professionally, personally and above all, spiritually.  Even the times when I had difficult management situations and difficult times, I now see them as opportunities to exercise patience and long-suffering.  But ultimately, I see those times as challenges meant to test my personal integrity – to say the things that no one else would say and to do the hard things that needed to be done.

Above all, I see that my marriage has been the greatest blessing for my own growth.  My marriage and my family has not only blessed me with many earthly joys and a place of spiritual healing, but also given me the most focus and inspiration in becoming the person I have always wanted to be.

Coming into 2009 was incredibly hectic.  I was working late nights and long weekends.  I had gained 25 pounds in about 4 months from all the high-stress development we were doing that was fed on soda and takeout food.  I was glad for my parents being there to celebrate Christmas and New Years, because otherwise, it would have been lonely for my wife and kids since I was rarely at home and working the holidays.  And even then, the end was still not in sight in 2009.

My team vented frustrations in many ways to keep our morale up and to prevent inertia.  One of the ways I vented my frustration was in driving my energy into developing my first published Flash Game, “Strike Eagle.”  The inspiration of my sons and my wife, the confidence I had gained over the decade, as well as the combined frustration at work gave me the impetus to finally make my first game.

I’m glad that I got the game done and had much to show for it at every step of the way.  And there are so many great people in the Flash and Indie Game Development community that I’ve met through this effort.  It certainly outweighs the lack of monetary recognition this game had, but that is my own fault for submitting it to a contest rather than trying to sell it as a license.

After publishing the game April 1^st, I only just got paid at Christmas.  I received $110.14 for the 100 hours I spent developing it (a little over $1.10/hour) but it was timely and made a great set of Christmas presents for my sons.

After April, my work shifted gears.  Development was done and so I was moved over to Operations to get our product installed, ready for use and with 24-hour call support.  This was the time I was the most prolific with my blog posts (mostly because I wasn’t sleeping.)  I was analyzing the strengths and failures of “Strike Eagle” but I was also writing posts of encouragement for the Indie Game Development scene.  It was partly because I was seeing a lot of despair for Indie Developers, but also to encourage myself that I just had to keep trying.  Sadly, I was kept so busy that I could not hunker down to program – but it was not without reason.

At that time, my wife had volunteered to make some dresses for a Steampunk Fashion show.  She had long been contemplating her career path since having our eldest son right out of college and she wanted to get into Fashion design.  So between my new work responsibilities and the odd hours I was keeping, I shifted from doing my own projects to taking care of the boys at every spare moment I had.  This freed my wife’s time to put together her fashion pieces spanning over 6 months.  She also took a couple commissioned dresses during this time which not only gave her more confidence, but seriously boosted her skills for the final push before the Fashion show.

In a span of a few short months, I saw my wife grow tremendously both in her ability and in her confidence to sew.  And I am very proud of the final products that she was able to produce for the Anime USA 2009 Steampunk Fashion show.  I even created a site for her to showcase the work she has done and her site will eventually sponsor some items that people can buy.   I am extremely proud of her and am just happy that I get to not just share in her joy, but that I get to announce it to the whole world through the Internet.

After the Fashion show in late November, I started to take some real vacation time – turning pagers off, and seriously decompressing.  It was rough for the first few weeks because I was irritated, agitated and suffered from a second bout of insomnia.  I was forced to take more time to rest and to really sleep once the whole family got sick in early December.  It was around then that I realized how much stress, anger and frustration I had been bottling in for the last year.

Even though it was a good thing that I channeled so much of my energy into projects and doing productive things, much of what I created was out of frustration and anger rather than out of joy.

I realize that it was for this reason I was held back from doing more in 2009 – so that I would not create out of anger or frustration, but to really enjoy game development for itself.

And so, I’ve started taking it a bit easier into this new Decade.  I’m going to take myself a little less seriously and poke fun at myself for it.  And that I should work hard at things that give me joy, rather than just for the sake of working hard.

Nothing fills me with more joy than knowing that what I am building makes a big difference in the lives of so many people.  And so, my first project for this decade is building a site to help build wells and fight HIV in Central Africa.  I will post a link once I have it up and running.

As for all you who have encouraged me on this blog over the last year…  Thank you for your support and kind words throughout this time in my life.  I hope to have much more to share with you in 2010.

Have a blessed and wonderful new Decade!

The shortest route to making a game meaningful for a player is really simple.  Just make it a multiplayer game.  This Copernican observation was made by prominent game designer, Daniel Cook.

Danc points out that a lot of games make a false constraint by trying to make meaningful experiences for the player through cinematics, music and a moving story.  In reality, the shortest route to create meaning is simply to get other human beings invovled in the same experience.

As an example, Danc points out the widely popular Facebook games like Farmville and Mafia Wars and how it has become meaningful to people’s lives because of its social aspect.  But I think that games like Farmville and Mafia Wars fall short on creating something truly impactful.  What truly makes a game impactful is not just that a game is social, but that it gives you choices and consequences.

Many single players give you the illusion of choices and consequences by showing how your actions impact the story.  But this is artificial and fake.  You can play through every scenario again and again, and even laugh at the differences when you choose the “jerk” option rather than the “nice” option.  But you can’t take those things back when you are making a choice with a real person that has real consequences.

For instance, in Mafia Wars, you can put bounties on people’s heads and “oops you’re dead, minus some experience.”  There really is no real bite to it.

But in this not-so-well-known Facebook game, Starfleet Commander by Blue Frog Gaming, your interactions with other players have lasting consequences.

There is an invisible choice that is made when you play Starfleet Commander that most people don’t notice.  At some point in the game, you begin to realize that the fastest way to grow is to attack other players.  It takes time, and a lot of resources to build an economic infrastructure.  And while other people are doing the same, impatience grows to take from the weaker players so that you can quickly grow.

Unlike Mafia Wars, if you attack another player’s planet, take their resources and destroy their ships, those things are really gone.  To add insult to injury, vultures can even harvest the debris of destroyed ships as well, destroying not only your fleet infrastructure, but also the resources you put into building them.  The consequences are harsh, lasting and have cause people to switch to a safer “diplomacy” mode where everything they produce is taxed or to quit the game all together.

The ironic thing is that like the real universe, Starfleet Commander’s playing field is infinitely vast and ever expanding.  Resources are unlimited and plentiful.  What is limited is time and patience.  So the choice is made whether or not to take from others.  This is a real and lasting choice and people can and will hate you for taking what is theirs.

For my section of the universe, one particular aggressor kept hammering away at weaker players until he grew to an enormous size and threatened all the players in the area.  Where I was once quietly gathering my resources by myself, I was suddenly called upon by others to gather together and defend against this bully.  I found myself digging in my heels and rushing up the technological ladder to create a fleet equal to or greater than the aggressor.

For people who know me in person, I am naturally a protector.  But I never expected to experience that personality habit in a game.  I found myself growing my fleets and colonies simply to push myself to protect others.

Our alliance, “Fading Suns” came together and we made another choice.  After vanquishing this threat, we decided that we were not going to become an aggressor alliance and simply to continue to be a defensive alliance while actively seeking out to go after other aggressor “bully” players in the game – of which there are plentiful.

One of my friends was completely wiped out last night.  And as I write this, he is in correspondence with his attacker asking him questions like, “Why do you do this?  Do you feel better about yourself by doing this – attacking people who are so much weaker than you?”  And the usual replies come back:

“It’s your own fault for playing so stupidly.”
“It’s just a game.”
“Life’s unfair anyway.”

My friend in his wisdom said back, “If life is unfair, shouldn’t you work at making it better rather than worse?”

I don’t think that this conversation on morality would happen over something like Farmville or Mafia Wars.

Some people may laugh this off and say, “Man you are taking this really seriously.”  I really don’t think so.  I think that not enough people really like to ask the only meaningful questions in life.

Who do I make myself to be by my actions – in work, in play, at home, with others, when I am alone?
Who do I like to pretend to be – in books I buy, movies I watch, games I play?
Who am I?

Those are the only questions that really matter.  And like it or not, how you conduct yourself in play does matter.  It’s something I have to constantly tell my boys, after all.