Hitting Your (Design) Stride

 Hitting Your (Design) Stride

Any decent artist will tell you that art is work. Yes, it's true that the muses strike from time to time and we don't always ask for the inspiration we receive. These are extraordinary moments for which artists are grateful. But it's easy for people who aren't artists (or bad artists) to presume that inspiration is what drives great art and that "you either have *it* or you don't."

I mean...yes? But also, it's possible a pad and pen will do until you're out of there...

This is untrue. Inspiration is a wonderful thing, but it only carries us so far. Additionally, inspiration draws on context. The more experience a person has, the easier it is to translate inspiration into a meaningful context. Imma cite an example from a different realm and try to draw the parallel back to what I'm writing about here.

In the 2007 Super Bowl against the New England Patriots, the New York Giants had trouble beating cornerback Ellis Hobbs on a very specific passing route. They'd called the same play twice, which sent a receiver on a slant toward the goal posts. And each time, Hobbs was there, ready to make a play on the ball. Kevin Gilbride, the Giants offensive coordinator (and responsible for selecting the offensive plays) had watched lots of tape on Hobbs and realized that Hobbs was "cheating:" when Hobbs saw a particular offensive formation, he knew the receiver would either break into a slant toward the posts or towards the corner. He was GUESSING it would be the post every time. So if it was the post, he'd be in position to either knock the ball down or intercept it. But if it was a corner route (slanting toward the sideline and near corner of the end zone), Hobbs would be woefully out of position. Sure enough, when Giants star receiver Plaxico Burress ran the corner route on the last Giants' offensive play of the game, Hobbs fell over and Burress was alone to catch the Super Bowl-winning touchdown pass.

There's an element in that story of inspiration: Gilbride's realization that Hobbs was *guessing* where the ball was going to be thrown rather than *knowing*. But that realization isn't really a realization as much as it is a complete guess or hope if Gilbride hadn't watched as much film on Hobbs as he did. Had Gilbride not done all his homework, maybe the inspiration never comes because his brain never recognizes or even considers the pattern.

So. Much. Space between them.

I mention all of this because just this week, I spent several hours with my buddy Chad working on game design stuff. We normally play a new game for a bit and discuss what we like or don't like about mechanics, components, theme, etc, and then we dive into our own design work. But with Stonemaier Design Day approaching pretty fast, we decided to skip the game and just hammer through design work. We made outstanding headway and hit that groove where one of us could say, "You know..." and the other had drawn a similar or identical conclusion and could finish the sentence. We were in a really terrific space and more or less finished the design, overcoming some obstacles that really had us stymied for several weeks if not a month.

That's not to say the game is done and everything was brilliant. It's not that. We also shared ideas with one another that either didn't work or just weren't very good. And we know once we start testing, anywhere from several to many of these solutions will fall apart and need to be replaced or simply removed. But the first complete iteration of the game itself is all but done and ready to start testing. We were fortunate that the muses were feeling particularly vocal that day, but the inspiration also arrived at a time when we had the knowledge and experience to practically apply it. We've got a decent amount of board game experience between the two of us, we've documented mechanics, themes, what we enjoy and don't as well as why...at the intersection of all of this are the designs on which we're working. Yes, games are fun to play, but as a designer, they're also homework. My two decades in theatre taught me that the more a theatre artist has seen and read, the better the chances that their own work is both informed and nuanced. It's the same thing with game design.

My therapist told me that when I can't sleep and I've been trying for 20 minutes, that I should get out of bed. Keep the lights low in another room, read, do T'ai Chi, paint my minis or some other low lift activity that doesn't include a screen. Then try to go to sleep again when my body starts sending signals that it's ready. If you're having difficulty with your game design, don't give up on it! Just put it down and do something else! Work on a different design. Play a game you've never played before. Add to your list of games that you need to try or your list of mechanics that you like/dislike and why. There's always more peripheral work one can do that will help when one is ready to return to the work that was troublesome in the first place.

I'm sure this seemed a little scatter shot, writing about football and sleep hygiene in order to draw parallels to board game design. And I'm still very much a novice, so this isn't gospel! But I'll say this: I'm a pretty seasoned actor, director, and producer. I know what it takes to be an artist. And make no mistake: game designers are absolutely artists. So believe me when I say there are some hard and fast rules that apply to any art form; one of them is hard work. And another is that inspiration doesn't happen in a vacuum, no matter how much that might appear to be the case. I promise that your peripheral work *will* inform your primary work and help you hit those creative strides that just feel brilliant and help you reach your artistic goals!