It’s not always easy to look back and realize you had the right idea and then veered into wrong choice territory. Hindsight is 20/20 after all. But when you know how long that wrong turn took you… ouch, it would be nice to have that time back.
The newsletter I’m looking at in preparation for this newsletter contains a real whopper (January 11th, 2021):
Anyway, if you saw the first 12 minutes of the first IFP Doc Labs submission, you know that I started that version with footage of the bucolic Welsh countryside, eventually leading up to Jeff’s front door and the sounds of him playing a video game. For the longest time that’s how I wanted to open the film. The trap of thinking I was doing something clever - subverting documentary tropes or some such nonsense. This time around I’m trying something else. I’m leading with Jeff’s first impressions of Tempest, and from there launching into a montage of Jeff’s own games. It’s more direct, it’s thematically stronger, and it’s just more interesting.
But it WASN’T more interesting. In fact, if anything, a lot of non-gamers found it really off-putting. I was really struggling with the sequencing of Jeff’s story, and I really didn’t have a firm grasp of how to make a film for my target audience. I talked a big talk about making a film that would reach a wider audience than just the people who were already familiar with Jeff’s games. Leaning into Tempest 2000 on the Jaguar might not be a helpful interpretation of what non-gaming audiences might relate to. Plus, and this is a big one, I was in love with the details of Jeff’s story. I really did want to make a film that gamedevs would dig, and appreciating Jeff’s most celebrated game didn’t seem all that unreasonable.
One of the best pieces of advice I was given was to show the film to uninvested audiences - people who didn’t know Jeff, or his games, or me, or games in general for that matter - and to show it more often than I might personally feel was necessary. And I did, with increasing reluctance I might add. Before each major feedback presentation, I was almost entirely convinced “oh this cut is just fine, so the feedback will validate that for me” and then I’d get a bunch of feedback that that not only provided me with ample evidence that the film WASN’T ready, but also provided a roadmap for implementing the suggested changes that would make the film stronger and more relatable.
I’ve talked about listening to advice before. It’s not always easy to do when you’re a creator and you’re trying to make a point about something with your work. What the heck does anyone else know about what I’m trying to say, right? And there’s a lot to be said about having strong opinions but taking notice of how those opinions are being met… Maybe there’s a less alienating way of saying the same thing so that more people will actually hear it… But what I’m talking about today is more about not kicking yourself too hard for spending time exploring options.
I’ve worked with a lot of filmmakers with way more experience than perhaps I’ll ever have who have taken creative detours to explore options that don’t turn out (though not as many detours as I’ve taken with HoN). Sometimes the thing in your head that you’re trying to manifest in the world is just a flawed idea. Most of the time you won’t know that until it’s been made in some form (the expression I use is “put it on its feet”). There are so many blind spots in the creative process, especially with stuff that is intensely personal. You need to be able to review what it is you’re doing, if only to confirm that yes, this is what I want.
Like this blog post. This is not what I intended to write today at all. I don’t even know if there’s a way to connect this with Jeff. Jeff’s process is focused on core stuff, the game loop itself - is the main thing the player will be doing an engaging activity? As it’s described to me, and from what little I’ve seen, this is how Jeff wins. He is able to spend twelve months working on a game and deliver it on time. He doesn’t get caught up in the details too soon, and when an idea isn’t working and he’s exhausted his immediate options he moves on, because he’s in the game-delivery business (as opposed to the endlessly-noodling-with-game-mechanics business). If he feels there’s been a missed opportunity, he’ll address it in the next thing he makes. I assume he has creative regrets, but he doesn’t talk about them. So maybe we shouldn’t either.
I could just be reacting to my circumstances: I’m not getting any younger, so looking at how long it took me to reach the correct decision can be horrifying when the right decision now seems so obvious now. But that’s the trick, isn’t it? Presenting something to the world that seems like the form as presented was inevitable. I wanted to make a film about process, about how video games get made, but in the end most people aren’t really all that interested in process. They just want to be entertained. There’s nothing wrong with that. As a creative person, my discipline is finding the balance within the work that meets my needs as the creator AND the desire for my chosen audience to enjoy the work.
The phrase “creative journey” is a bit obnoxious, but it IS a journey, and no matter what you try to do it always ends up being the scenic route : )
If you’ve gotten this far you might be interested in the VIDEO GAME DAY #weareindiedev livestream on the HEART OF NEON YouTube Live channel next Monday, starting at noon, 12pm EST. Join me to celebrate Jeff Minter and other indiedevs from all around the globe, sharing their hopes and dreams, their current games, and their passion for independent game development! It isn’t easy being indie. Let’s share the love. I look forward to seeing you there : )