Brian Crick

Empty Vessel

Been working on deck plans for the Wisteria, a spaceship in Tinselfly where you’ll spend like 1/3 of the game.

When I started these plans, I just went in trying to design a realistic ship. Not a level, not a game… a ship. Where people can live and work and relax.

Before, I had no idea what that 1/3 of game would look like. And now I kind of do. This is starting to feel like a real place to me, without any modeling or level design yet. I can imagine people running around this blueprinted spaceship, and it helps me think. It’s a playset in my head.

This is an empty space. Some people like coming up with game and ideas and building a container around them. That doesn’t work for me, and I have to constantly remind myself of that.

Me, I want an empty container that can be filled… and you have to have that empty container before you can fill it.

Wisteria-Deck-Plan-12-May-2014

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What started all this was discovering the existence a government-run organization called NOAA that runs a fleet of research ships. And… it was a real epiphany sort of moment; Tinselfly is all about its heroine dreaming of (and getting into) this sort of Star Trekky touchy-feely navy, and it’s all supposed to be like patriotic and stuff, but the whole idea of a government-run fleet of ships that go out and do science and explore just seemed like pure fantasy. So now I’ve got something to base this space fleet on, some sort of precedent. And every aspect of this universe is starting to feel more real to me, and I have a strategy for filling in the details I don’t have yet. I can watch NOAA recruitment videos. I can look at deck plans for NOAA ships. I can read years worth of NOAA blogs.

So here are some revelations I’ve had, since starting my research of NOAA.

  • Research: NOAA ships have a handful of naval officers on them, but most people on the ship are civilians. From what I can tell the atmosphere is fairly casual. My take: I couldn’t write a realistic Navy story with strict chains of command if I tried. And I wouldn’t want to. Your character Robin in Tinselfly needs a lot of independence, but still be on a career path to being a Navy captain, her being a video game character and all. I feel more confident now about selling the idea of having the Wisteria be a sort of casual environment, but some some Navy officers and enlisted-type people onboard.
  • Research: NOAA ships exist to do science. There are modular, interchangeable labs. Half the population of the one ship I’ve studied in detail so far is scientists. There’s a ton of sensing equipment on board. My Take: Initially, the Wisteria was a cutting-edge warship, that never saw combat, that inexplicably existed in a propaganda-filled world that was almost entirely at peace. Again, I like that there is a precedent for a government-controlled fleet of not-for-warfare ships with not-so-regimented ship life.
  • Research: One the big things NOAA ships do is all about fish. They keep track of fish populations, guard against overfishing, and make sure the water in the ocean is good for fish. My take: Similarly, the Wisteria can protect tinselflies, which in this universe create materials used in the production of spaceships — which makes said eponymous alien bugs even more well integrated into the plot. (Like how silk is made from caterpillars.)
  • Research: NOAA ships also create maps of the ocean floor, which are available to the public. These maps help other sailors steer clear of shipwrecks and shallow areas where they might run aground. My take: In the beginning of the game, the Wisteria can be on a routine survey, find routine shipwrecks, and at some point find one that’s not so routine, which kicks off the plot. With the Wisteria as a survey vessel, it’s perfectly reasonable for them to be out there looking for wrecks.
  • Research: While NOAA locates wrecks, to my knowledge, they do not clear them. My take: Robin is an engineer. Since the derelicts wouldn’t be decaying tons of water, it seems reasonable that in an outer-space-based version of NOAA, you might send an engineer onboard derelicts, just to get them moving out of harm’s way, or to salvage yards, under their own power. I have have the player learn about the engineering mechanics by having Robin repair successively repairing ever more damaged ships before finally having to take care of her own.

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Imagine that you own some Legos, and you want to design a spaceship. Not any particular spaceship, just spaceship. So you gather up your Lego sets. You find that one set that got stashed waaaay up high in a closet for some reason. You find miscellaneous pieces in couch cushions. And you start throwing pieces together, and some things you throw together will fit that vague requirement , and some won’t. You’ll get fond of certain pieces; you’ll say to yourself, this would look really good as part of a spaceship, but I don’t know where it would go.

Eventually, you’ll find something you like.

But you’re not done.

The spaceship is not incomplete because you can’t find the right piece to fill in a particular gap. It’s not because you didn’t find all your misplaced Legos. And it’s not incomplete because you didn’t work in every cool-looking piece you wanted to work in.

It’s incomplete because you’re still working with Legos.

Because your goal was to design a spaceship, not a Lego spaceship. So you’ll go to pencil and paper, or clay, or your favorite modeling program, and rough out your spaceship in there. And now, you can smooth out the blockiness of everything. You can precisely balance things that were a little off before.

Right now,  I’m still gathering up my Legos. This is the way I’m most comfortable working. I’m going to make my self some building blocks — doing research on NOAA or anything else that sounds interesting, sifting through my favorite stories and finding my favorite bits, keeping up on new games and their new mechanics — and then I’m going to play with my building blocks. Not all my blocks will get used. Not all deserve to get used.

I have a vague sense of the shape of the story I want to make. I’ll eventually have something that fits, that I made with my blocks… and I’ll start rounding out its edges. But I’m not there yet.

Until then, things are going to be a little blocky.

Copyright © 2017 Brian Crick.