A Year Of Making Disappointing Games

She practically barked at me in agreement, a bit too readily for my tastes - I had been talking to my oldest friend, and it had been an offhand comment of mine, that, “I should give up on making big impressive games, and just go make fan levels in Neverwinter Nights,“ (a computer roleplaying game based on Dungeons and Dragons, which let users make their own levels and stories within the program). When I was in high school, I had used the Neverwinter Nights D&D toolset to make a few of my own levels, ‘so why wasn’t I applying all I’d learned since to this proven (if unambitious) tool??’ was the vibe I got off of my friend when I casually brought it up to her.

We lost her last year, and she’s been on my mind this season, like Marley’s ghost.

She cornered me once, years ago, interrogated me about my chasing fame. Would I be satisfied with the level of fame of the guy who wrote In The Hall Of The Mountain King (Edvard Grieg) - someone who se most famous piece of music, many people would recognize, but whose name you’d have to look up. It was a startling question, but she was startling like that.

I’d told her no, that so long as I was alive, I was competing for the best in the world.

It’s a new year. My plan, this year, is to honor what it seems like she was trying to steer me toward in life: making games that might disappoint my ‘grand visions,’ but games that are easier to make.

Games that are easier to make are more likely to get completed. I have a graveyard of projects I threw my heart into, but were overly ambitious for one man.

I won’t be a household name, but if I were to pick simpler projects, and complete those projects, I’d at least have something to share with those of you who have found my work.

And those of you who are here to watch the process - if I’m not beaten down by the crushing force of overambitious work, I’ll have more energy to share the process along the way. You’ll have something to read from me, instead of months-at-a-time of silence, while I work on whatever the plural of a Magnum Opus is.

Happy 2026. May your year, similarly, be one that won’t haunt you. Good luck! 🥳