ALL TALK, NO PLAY

I don't quite have the words to address the first part, but I've got something for this:

author=thatbennyguy
An even more frightening question: if we realize that creating the thing that we want to create is beyond our reach - should we even try in the first place? Is the process fun enough to continue? Will "settling for less" be good enough? And is this notion particular to personal preference, or is there an objective statement to be made about the fruits of creativity not appeasing the ambitions of your own mind?

I'm of the belief you should always try; you don't learn and develop if you aren't attempting to push your limits, you're just instead developing your existing skills into rote maneuvers. Given an unlimited budget of time, you can accomplish any goal. However, we, as finite mortal beings, do not have an unlimited time budget - so, in the end, there's some decisions that have to be made. Are you working on this for other people to eventually experience it or is this for personal "I did it"ness?

In the case of something that you want others to experience, there's a point where, inevitably, you're settling for slightly less than what you envision (imagination to finished product conversion rate is never 100%). If you want others to experience it, you will have to, at some point, say "this is good enough" and let the public have it. Where the "good enough" point is will depend on the individual and each individual project - one person's "good enough" may be far beyond the most wildest dreams of ever accomplishing for others.

If you're working on a project just to be able to say "I did it," however, I don't believe you should ever entirely give up and say "good enough" (well, there is a point, but few, if any, hobbyist gam mak crews will ever reach the point where the amount of work put in is no longer worth the return). An individual should always be striving to better these personal projects, if only to assist in making those that they do release to the public that much better; these projects never really need to be done, because you can keep refining them until you reach the point where you've achieved almost all of what you set out to do. Sure, you might need to shelve it for some time to clear your mind, or restart the project in an entirely different engine (or medium!), but I personally feel these types of projects should always be worked on, in some way, and never truly dropped.

(Hope I'm making sense, been up and awake a long, long time.)

author=thatbennyguy
Do members of the RPG maker community spend too much time discussing development of games, and not enough time developing them?

I at least spend as much time working on games than I do talking about them, personally.

author=thatbennyguy
Do you think that discussing game mechanics with others dilutes the artistic integrity of your game, or do you like the open method of suggestion? If we created graphics and maps just to be like others, wouldn't we all end up with roughly the same game? Where does innovation come in?

I suppose the subject of the echo chamber comes in: if people are constantly making maps and games to fit with what they believe the online community wants, they may in fact end up with similar content. But I still see plenty of innovation and cool ideas made real here, so I'm not sure that's a huge problem right now.

author=thatbennyguy
I am of the understanding that collaboration is good, but if a developer becomes frustrated with their lack of progress in their game, or lack of innovation or general dissatisfaction of the game, what is at fault? Is it simply lack of ability? Will a person who has struggled to achieve an artistic goal, whether it be game making or not, ever achieve their goal? What is the optimal combination of components to spur on growth in this area? Or is it simply beyond one's reach?

I don't think I can answer this. My personal goal is a simple (and probably common) one: Make games that I'd like to play. Aside from that, everything else is trivial. I may never make something that's truly a wondrous piece of art, but I'm content to keep trying.

author=thatbennyguy
An even more frightening question: if we realize that creating the thing that we want to create is beyond our reach - should we even try in the first place? Is the process fun enough to continue? Will "settling for less" be good enough? And is this notion particular to personal preference, or is there an objective statement to be made about the fruits of creativity not appeasing the ambitions of your own mind?

Travio had a good response here. I'm of a similar opinion. If what you want is beyond your reach, create what you can. Some day, if your skills improve, perhaps you can achieve a more perfect version of that vision.

I can't be a perfectionist. The games I make will never be 100% what I want them to be. But I can't keep refining every little detail indefinitely. I have to settle because part of the fuel for my creativity is actually seeing progress. Everyone's got their own limits. And I feel like if I can get the game done, if one or more of those imperfect parts still pokes at me afterwards, I can try to fix them then. If they're too ingrained into the game, I can try to do better in a future game. Everything's a learning experience.

Ultimately, I feel that you have to get joy from the Gam Mak itself. If you're making it for any other reason than making it is either fun or fulfilling in some way, then you can't guarantee your own happiness in regard to making games. And the reason I can keep going on a project is that making it continues to make me happy. If that makes sense.

EDIT: I wrote my post before I saw your latest response.

author=thatbennyguy
So my question is - if the person will theoretically never be able to find the full joy that they are searching for in the creation of anything they pursue - is it worth the journey? Or would their efforts best be spent elsewhere? Can a person ever know if they will never reach their goal? Is the pursuit of an impossible goal admirable or even sane? I know these are tough questions, and for some of them I am being the Devil's Advocate, but I would like to hear people's answers.

I break it up like this: I could either be creating "stuff" or consuming "stuff" that others have made. Either way, time will pass. I will age. My life is limited. I'd rather spend much of my time creating because I feel driven to do so. So the question isn't if its admirable or sane. It's just what I want to do, in my case.

author=thatbennyguy
Good answers, unity. Very down-to-earth.

Thanks. :D

author=thatbennyguy
This brings up another question in my mind, and it's something that is more practical and less theoretical than the other questions: to what point should you say that a piece of art is done? Whether it be an entire game, or a tiny sprite, or a game mechanic. To what degree of near-perfection should you stop and say that it is good enough? Is it relative to the amount of time that a person would spend on it, or the value that the developer/player places in that element?

It's more a feeling in my case. It's trying to look at the element objectively and say "does this work for my game?" It's very gut-based, and thus I have to rely on feedback for when I fail to measure it. I'll think a sprite looks good, and then players will say "the colors look flat" or "the hair doesn't move right." Then I have to gauge if the players' perspective is correct, and then go back and polish the element that was lacking. I have a lot of flaws, so I'm grateful to be in a community where people can pick up on them.

What part of creating a game, or anything else, makes you happy? Is it the process of creating, or the enjoyment of the finished product? If it is a combination of the two, where on the sliding scale are you? And is there a place on the sliding scale where a person would find ultimate happiness from developing? Can you, as a person, choose your place on that scale via your mind?

A lot of the process isn't purely fun, but its all about goalposts. Trying to make a sprite look right is painstaking and annoying. Seeing the sprite move around correctly is the goalpost, and seeing it pulled off makes me happy and recharges my urge to keep going. Making the boss battle is fun but tedious. When the challenge feels just right and the boss and his minions are unleashing attacks the way you want, that's another goalpost that grants happiness for me.

On the bigger scale, there's the big goalposts. I felt extremely accomplished and happy to release a demo, even though there was a lot that was lacking in it (most of which I needed pointed out to me ^^;;) but it felt good because all the little things I did over and over added up to something.

And I guess that "doing what you want to do" is both admirable and sane. Good reply.

Thanks very much! I like these sorts of discussions, even though they are difficult.

Studies have proven people that talk about things don't finish them. People that don't talk about things just do them. The idea researchers have come up with is that people that talk about things have expended their energy talking about it.

I think it's best to aim for the absolute best you can do, or at least something you view that has a level of quality satisfying enough to give exposure to, while keeping public expectations in mind at least a little bit, if only to stay within necessary standards and not pander to your own sense of... to put it simplistically, "what's good and bad".

And I think it's incredibly important to discuss our games with each other, since there's always room for improvement in virtually anything, whether someone wants to admit it or not. If a person ever struggles to make something, though, and eventually develops limited enjoyment with his/her creation despite being given advice that helps in the long run, then game-making probably isn't their suit or they should take breaks so their creativity and motivation isn't run dry.

Honestly, finish a game if you want to finish it, and for no other reason.

It's nice to have other people play your games, and it's even better when they enjoy them. However, once you start announcing deadlines and designing the game around what the community will like, then your project is suddenly all about them. Unless you're working on a commercial game, there's no real reason to limit yourself to what others want.

A lot of people forget that RPG making is just a hobby, and let it become just another workload in their lives. Like any recreational activity, if it stops being fun, stop doing it.

That's why I wrote a little pep talk of a how to make your first game telling people 1 town, 1 dungeon. That's all you need. Then say its done.

I actually like discussing game design more than actually making games myself. That's why I see myself more of a game design advisor these days who just gives criticism/suggestions to game developers he likes rather than being a game developer myself. If someone asks I usually say I'm a game designer.

I do not know what talking of our projects does, but I do know that it can only enrich us. As for whether it is worth making a game when we know we cannot create that which we envision, I offer this:

There once was a young man who sought to learn from the wisest man in the world. He climbed the highest mountain in Tibet to the oldest temple and there he found an old man meditating. "Master," he said, "I came to learn the secrets of the life from you. Will you teach me?"

The old man considered and said, "I will teach you if you can find a man or woman in the world who knows only happiness."

So the young man went back down the mountain and went into the city. There he found a wealthy woman surrounded by her pets, dogs and cats and she seemed to be the happiest woman in the world. So he spoke to her for a while and learned that she kept the pets because she could not have children. So the young man realized that this woman wasn't truly happy because her love for her pets hid a deeper longing.

So the young man continued to search and finally, he left the city and ventured to other cities. In Paris, he found an artist that seemed quite content. His art was popular and his painting had made him wealthy, but the young man came to realize that the man's art was borne of deep longing.

So the young man continued to search, and he searched. He went from city to city. He met philosophers and leaders, poets and builders, dreamers and realists, but no matter who he spoke with, found nobody who was truly happy, knowing nothing less.

He got malaria in Cambodia, was robbed on the streets of Tokyo, nearly starved to death in Johannesburg, and still he journeyed. Then one day, many years later, he climbed the mountain and spoke with the old man again.

The old man said, "So, did you find the happiest person on Earth?"

The young man said, "No. In fact, I'm not so sure that there is such a thing as happiness, but everyone I talked to was always looking for it." And he told the old man of his journeys and his hardships, his most harrowing moments, and his most delightful memories and he spoke for hours.

Finally, the old man said, "So what is it you want me to teach you? I, who sit up here in this temple all day, have not learned even a little of what you have."

And it occurred to the young man that everything he knew, he had learned from the old man, during a pursuit he might never had made for something that never existed to begin with.

The moral: It is not the destination that matters: it is the journey.