Brian Crick

Fully Realized

Continuing to work on that Tinselfly scene. In fact, I’ve done little else in my free time lately.

Right before bed on Sunday, I was working on this light-up sign. And for just a fraction of a second, I thought it was real, spinning silently above me on that late summer night as the crickets chirped and leaves rustled around me.

The weekend was ending. Shops were closing and the city was strangely quiet. It was time to go home.

It was kind of unsettling.

* * *

Given how long all this has been in development, you’d think that I’d be overjoyed to be able to see this stuff on screen at long last; to be able to walk through these sets that previously existed only in my head. Like how you might want to see a well-realized version of your favorite book, with all the sets and costumes and everything just the way you imagined them.

And… that’s completely not how I’ve been reacting to it. Which is kinda surprising me.

I guess you could say that getting this stuff out of my head makes it more malleable; an idea is hard to react to. Once something’s up there on screen, I’m more willing to change its purpose, appearance, or cut it and related objects entirely. Initially, my city here was supposed to be half a kilometer in diameter; now, it’s down to half that, reducing the area over which the player can travel to a quarter of what it originally was supposed to be. And the scope of the project in general has gotten significantly smaller.

Now that I can see this, I am so much more willing to produce work that I find merely adequate and make cuts to all areas of the project.

It’s kind of liberating.

For the most part, this place does not feel any more real to me than it did before I started modeling it. It is, however, significantly easier to work with. And that’s what’s important right now. Feeling real can happen later.

Soggy Popcorn Texturing

Been a while since I made a development-as-cooking post. I think it’s time for another one.

I tend to think of cooking in terms of problem solving, and the problems I’m solving are always the same: spend less time cooking; make the management of meals and ingredients easier. I dislike cooking, and that’s why I’m trying to do it better.

I’ll pick one problem and just keep at it until it’s been solved to my satisfaction. The latest problem is microwave popcorn. The full-size bags are too much for me, and the single-serving bags always end up both burnt and barely popped. A 10 pack of popcorn bags takes up a lot of space in the pantry, for very little food. There’s also lots of waste, with the box and the plastic-wrapping around each bag and the bags themselves.

The solution is homemade popcorn. A small jar of kernels can produce way, way more popcorn than a large box of popcorn bags. There’s less waste. I can portion things the way I want.

But despite trying a different recipes, the popcorn I’ve been making has been pretty unappetizing. It comes out oddly stale. The salt doesn’t stick. The butter feels greasy.

I still haven’t made popcorn to my satisfaction. But there are still new things I can try here. In the long term, I’m confident I’ll solve this problem; I’m confident that eventually, this will actually feel more convenient than popping a bag into a microwave and pressing a button, because of the vastly reduced frequency with which I’ll be buying boxes of microwave popcorn, and because of the vastly improved likelihood that I will have raw ingredients on hand any time I want them.

And here’s the point of all this: I still eat the popcorn. Greasy, burnt, bland, chewy popcorn. I eat it all. Because whether it’s a snack or a dinner gone horribly wrong, it’s food you prepared, and you’re gonna sit and you’re gonna eat it. I’ve made some really bad food here and there, but it’s hard to think of calling dinner a loss and pitching it (though sadly, I have done this a couple times). You gotta eat.

Which brings me to video game authoring.

* * *

A seeming difference between completely digital artwork and dinner is, I have no qualms about pitching reams and reams of art and starting over. You don’t have to eat everything you make.

Unless, maybe, you do.

Street-1-August-2013

I’ve been working on this walkway for Tinselfly for six days, using drawing technique in my modeling program that I didn’t know existed before Saturday.

For six days’ work, I think this is looking pretty good. The only problem is, I spent way too much time on the cobblestone, and I’m still not really happy with it.

I made something, and threw it out. Then I made something a completely different way, and threw it out. Then I made this.

But I certainly would have learned more — and worked more efficiently — by just putting an ugly texture into my scene and moving on — sort of like eating the bad popcorn. The things I learned making this look better, I would have learned just as well while making something new for the scene. And then I could have come back and fixed this quickly.

The only disadvantage to moving on is that you’ve got this ugly thing in your scene for a while. I don’t like having ugly things in my scene. Even though this is of course a work in progress. I feel compelled to drop everything and immediately work on whatever looks the worst.

So here’s something new I’d like to try doing: at the end of the day, ugly or not, whatever I’ve worked on is going into my scene, and the next day I’ll start working on something else.

And it may be there for a while. And it will annoy me. And that’s something I need to get over.

 

Copyright © 2017 Brian Crick.