The Creative Process #46 - The Push and Pull

I've properly launched my IF Study Course, my project to provide lessons in writing, design, and implementation by playing notable works of interactive fiction. Two exercises have been posted so far: a warm-up "slow play" and a more directed examination of last year's IF Comp winner, Detritus. Writing the course, and participating in it myself, has been good for reflecting on my craft and keeping me moving creatively, although it has exposed a deeper question: "what am I building toward?"

I've been sharing the exercises on the IntFiction forums, including my own attempts at the exercises. The slow play went well. I replayed the fun 16 Ways to Kill a Vampire at McDonald's by Abigail Corfman. In carefully playing the game and taking notes, I noticed a good design philosophy that I want to bring into my own games. Throughout the game Corfman never just provides a straight line to a situation. There's a push and pull where it recognises what you want to do, but always throws a spanner in the works.

This is good design via conflict. It takes the structure of a zany 90s interactive fiction game and makes it interesting and intricate. Many games in that era would build their puzzle structure in the style of that "for want of a nail..." proverb, but it was mostly to get you to criss-cross the limited environment and once you had solved a puzzle, whole characters and areas became useless. I didn't get that sense in 16 Ways... because every wrinkle was an opportunity for story and inhabiting that space just a little more.

I'm still working on Detritus. It's a wonderful game, which makes it daunting. I gave the author a heads up on the course, and he's been lovely and supportive. But it still requires me to sit down and concentrate and not turn a deep shade of emerald in jealousy of how excellent it is. My mind's worked furiously on the problem of "how could I replicate this general structure myself?" (ever since I was a kid, if I ever saw something cool, I'd wonder how I'd make my own version). Detritus takes the Ship of Theseus as both a narrative and gameplay principle, then meshes everything together so tightly and intricately that I can’t see how to make my own version without simply copying it. I often feel like my subconscious creative approach is to just glom more and more onto a central structure. Reckless generosity. I'm in awe of people who can build a work like clockwork with every piece serving the central function, precise and excellent.

A number of people have been recognising the course, but I'm the only one actively participating in it, as far as I know. It's early days, and this course is meant to be a long project. As the content accumulates, there might be more to pick and choose from and more to recommend. For now, it's just a new variant of the old feeling of trudging through an early project alone.

The study course lends itself to productivity because each piece already has a frame. I don’t have to invent the shape of the work every time; I just have to fill it in. This has made my actual potential creative projects look wild and untameable. I've done myself a disservice listing my five potential IF projects in previous newsletters. I can't seem to choose a single one to devote to. I guess the study course is the one project, but I need something else: something made for its own sake rather than improving my craft.

I need to push enough mass into an area to give it gravity. Currently I'm just flitting about, dropping an idea here, a bit of code there. Maybe the five ideas aren't good enough to embark upon? Maybe like this study course, I just need to start something and find momentum.

I've had one idea come unbidden like a bat through an open window and it won't leave: create a set of images in Blender, one for each tarot card. It'd be good practice and a rigid scope. I like the suggestion of creative projects built around "one item per letter of the alphabet" or similar. 78 cards is a lot, though.

Nevertheless I'm feeling a lot more evenness in my productivity across the month. The course means I've always got a defined thing to do. I'm still working on the pace. We're going into winter, so night-time cups of tea have returned. I've found a new chai tea source. The workbench is set. I just need to get cracking.