It was one year ago today, on October 16, 2008, that I had the ventricular tachycardia that could have killed me.
I remember thinking multiple times in the weeks after, “I wish it were a year from now”. Well, now it is.
And if you’d told me last year, “Okay, you’re going to almost die, but your pacemaker is going to save you by shocking you about twenty times over the course of three days. You’ll spend weeks in the hospital while doctors puzzle out what exactly is wrong with you. You’ll undergo multiple procedures only to be back in the hospital a day after release. And two months after you seem to be okay, you’ll lose your job.
You’ll spend the next nine months in extremely difficult financial circumstances, doing whatever contract job you can find and mooching off everyone who cares about you. You’ll struggle with anxiety. For a long time the only place you’ll feel safe is in your own bed.
But as time passes, your anxiety will lesson. Regular exercise will make you feel much better, even if it doesn’t result in rapid weight loss. You’ll find even more joy and solace in your programming than you used to.
And a year later, you’ll be one day away from embarking on a huge adventure, travelling across the country to start work at the job of your dreams.”
If you’d told me that, I’d have said, “Uh, is there any way I can just kind of jump to the good part at the end?”
No, seriously, I’m poised to end up with a much better life than I had a year ago. I won’t say that getting put in the hospital and losing my job were good things, but they led me here, and I like where here is. Or where here is going to be when we finally, finally get moved.
But I’m not going to mark this day every year. As the title says, this is an antiversary – a date to forget.
Needless to say, moving across the country entails lots of work and many details. You have to tie up loose ends of your life that you didn’t even know you had.
Frankly, I’m beginning to think I stayed in Texas far too long. After the Origin Debacle and the Gizmondo Debacle it should have been clear to me that I wasn’t going to find what I was looking for in Texas. Plus, I’m starting to think that my brain is overclocked and trying to work in this heat just makes it want to shut down.
But the current plan is for the movers to arrive Friday or Saturday (we don’t know which, grrrr), at which point we’ll leave town and head for the great snowy fields of Michigan, hopefully arriving on the 21st so we can move right into our new apartment.
Of course, despite the fact that we’ve already got twenty boxes packed we’re nowhere near done and now we’ve got about four days left to finish it all. It’s crazy.
This was not really a surprise. Margaret had been in bad health for a long time. She had Lewy Body dementia, which produces symptoms similar to Alzheimer’s. We had to watch her rapid decline into confusion and senility, and then continue to watch as her body broke down.
Last night her son Curt, my wife’s brother, had been with her for about four hours. He was noticing that she was having trouble breathing, but there was little the doctors could do. He finally left for the night…only to get a phone call almost as soon as he got home telling him that his mother had died.
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Margaret didn’t like me very much at first. Indeed, I didn’t meet her until after I asked Jamie to marry me.
I met Jamie when we were both working at Arby’s at Barton Creek Square Mall. We were both attracted to each other because we were both horrible at the “game of love”. We were both way too honest and forthright to keep potential mates who were used to being told how wonderful they were, and flirting? ForGET it.
Now, back then, both Jamie and her mom were Jehovah’s Witnesses, and one of the things about Jehovah’s Witnesses is that they really, really want their kids to marry other Jehovah’s Witnesses. I could relate because my parents had been Seventh-Day Adventists, who like to follow the same rule. Only substituting “Seventh-Day Adventists” for “Jehovah’s Witnesses”.
The only problem was, I wasn’t a Witness and had no desire to become one.
So our love was forbidden – so romantic! Indeed, at one point, due to pressure from her family and the elders of her congregation, Jamie broke it off with me.
But she looked at her congregation…there were so few people her age that the marriages may as well have been arranged. And the young couples didn’t seem to be doing any better than non-Witness couples – there was adultery and fighting and divorcing just like everywhere else.
She went out with a few of the guys, but they all treated her badly, mostly because there were more women than men in the congregation and they had their pick of the flock.
And she finally realized…oh, Lord, this is going to sound so egotistical, but she finally realized that despite not being a Witness, I would make a much better husband and father than any of the guys she’d been dating “in the church”.
So Jamie and I made up. I had been hoping she’d come back to me so I hadn’t really been pursuing any other women (that and the whole “shy as a rabbit” thing). I was very happy, and so was she.
And one thing led to another, and that thing led to a strip of pink on a stick. And so I asked her to marry me, and she said yes.
Now, in my defense, I’d already decided that I was going to marry her, I just hadn’t gotten around to proposing yet. Her getting pregnant merely accelerated a process already in motion.
But now I had no choice – I had to meet her mother.
So one Sunday afternoon we both went over to her mother’s house. I was surprised at Margaret’s age. Jamie told me that Margaret had had her when she was almost forty, so when I met Margaret that day she was in her mid-sixties. She looked like she could have been Jamie’s grandmother, not her mother.
She let us in; I introduced myself and was as polite as I could possibly be. We sat down in the living room and made some small talk. But then we dropped the bomb. Jamie said, “Momma, I’m pregnant, and Anthony and I are going to get married.”
Without a word, Margaret stood up, walked into her bedroom and shut the door.
We sat there for ten agonizing minutes before Jamie finally went into the bedroom to discover Margaret crying. She was absolutely inconsolable for a while. I sat there dying inside until finally Jamie coaxed Margaret out of the bedroom. At which point I pledged my undying devotion to her daughter and our unborn child.
Finally Margaret settled down. “Well, at least he’s not a Mexican,” she said.
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Margaret’s life was scarred by tragedy, just like almost anyone’s who lived through the two World Wars. Her first husband, Curt’s father, left her. Her second husband, Jamie’s father, ran a liquor store. With free access to liquor, Margaret quickly became an alcoholic. And when she began to suspect (correctly) that he was cheating on her she threw gigantic booze-fueled fits, throwing liquor bottles and crockery at him.
Eventually they divorced. And then, it seemed, Margaret’s life began. She kicked her alcoholism. Her son Curt had a beautiful boy named Brett – plus Margaret still had Jamie, her own child, to love. She got a government secretarial job and worked at it for twenty years, finally retiring with a pension. Joining the Jehovah’s Witnesses gave her a spiritual peace. Austin grew in the direction of her house so she was able to sell about half of her backyard to a local developer for a substantial sum.
And then…tragedy again. It turned out that Brett had cystic fibrosis. The odds of him living to adulthood were very low.
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I only met Brett a couple of times…he lived in Austin for about the first half of his life. As he grew up he became a big fan of computer games, and when Origin Systems heard about him they actually donated $3000 worth of computer equipment and games, making him the envy of the block. From a computer-related standpoint, at least.
When I met Brett I was working at Origin, which made me super-cool despite the fact that I was just doing tech support. He was an extraordinarily likeable kid.
But then Curt and his mother divorced, and she took him away to live in Missouri.
As a parent I now understand – grandchildren are your reward for successfully parenting your children. And not only was Margaret’s only grandchild sick, now he was hundreds of miles away.
And then, a near-miracle happened: Brett’s health started to improve. For almost a year he lived a near-normal life. During that year he came to visit Margaret, and this picture was taken.
That year was a gift, but it couldn’t last. Soon after they returned to Missouri, Brett worsened and then quickly died.
At the funeral, Brett’s mother told me that Brett had always looked up to me, and had wanted to make video games when he grew up.
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But as the years passed Margaret began to like me more and more, and I began to have a much better relationship with her than with a lot of my own family.
Of course, there were downsides. When Jamie and I got into financial trouble we lived with her in her house for a year. This was annoying for everyone involved; Margaret had become incredibly fastidious in her old age and Jamie and I kept forgetting to do various things.
On the other hand, I remember once while we lived there that I was playing Jet Set Radio on my Dreamcast late one night. I had the sound down low so it wouldn’t wake Margaret, but I glanced behind me and there she was. She was staring at the screen as if in a trance, captivated by the game’s visuals. Once she noticed I was looking at her, she made a quick comment about how interesting the game looked and moved on. Obviously, the power of Jet Set Radio transcends generations.
But the real upside was that Margaret now had daily access to Megan, the apple of her eye.
And Jamie was pregnant with our second child, David.
Only David wasn’t as easygoing a baby as Megan had been. Indeed, he cried unless he was constantly held (an early sign of his autism). He drove Margaret crazy and it was only a few months after he was born that moving out became the best thing for everyone involved. Fortunately at this point I’d just made programmer at Multimedia Games (my first programming job) and we could now just barely afford our own place again.
But still, I continued to, you know, not cheat on her daughter and not divorce her daughter and not take her only remaining family away to live in some other part of the country. And then Jewel came along, cute, sassy Jewel, to really seal the deal. Margaret finally told Jamie that she was glad Jamie had married me.
And then I started cooking turkey dinners for everyone at Thanksgiving, taking that weight off her shoulders. She loved my cooking.
But her health had been getting worse for about the last sixth months. Curt, who had been taking care of her, finally had to put her in a home because he wasn’t capable of providing the round-the-clock medical care necessary to keep her alive.
During this time, it became clear to us that the only thing that still mattered in this world to her were her grandchildren. Our visits with her were the only time she conversed, became animated. But it was obvious her health was seriously worsening.
The last time I visited her was about a month ago. I hadn’t seen her in a while so I wasn’t prepared for how much she’d declined. She could barely see and hear, called me “David” and couldn’t even prop her own head up, much less move under her own power.
It was then that I realized that I probably wasn’t going to get to make her another turkey dinner.
And then last night she left us. I’m sure she didn’t want to, but her body gave her no choice.
(Forgive the expletive, but my friend Nathan Regener is of the opinion that all great stories start with “No shit, there I was” and I concur with him.)
Okay, both of my previous posts were made when I was exhausted for one reason or another, so I’m going to start over and tell the whole story.
No shit, there I was. Tuesday night before the flight, I go out and buy a rather nice netbook called a Gateway LT31 so that I can stay in touch with my family and show my interviewers at Stardock any of my previous projects that they might want to see. I spend practically the entire night scrubbing Vista off it and putting XP on, installing Visual C++ Express and Visual C# Express, syncing with my Subversion server and then making sure all my stuff compiles. Um…while Warcraft III and World of Warcraft install in the background. I also get my certification from Apple to install games I’ve compiled on actual devices so I do some updates on Inaria (it’s > < this close people, really) and install it on my iPod Touch. (Which is actually Ryan's but let's not get into that again.)
So I get very little sleep, but honestly, can you blame me? I finally fall asleep around 4 AM after everything is proven to work (except WoW which continues to download for another three or four hours; that game has just gotten out of hand).
I wake up at 7 AM and help my wife get the chilluns off to school. I then pack (which I should have done the night before, of course, but I was too busy fiddling with the computer). I bring with me some books to help me review, including Effective C++ and Game Coding Complete, Third Edition. I get to the airport around 10 AM for a flight that leaves at noon. I kiss my wife good-bye and enter security.
Now, I haven’t flown in ten years. You’ll notice that that’s before 9/11. I knew security was going to be tight, but I was surprised that I had to take my belt and shoes off. Once I escaped from security I went to my gate and, of course, had about an hour to wait. I thought I’d get online and send a message to Jamie telling her what was going on…when I realized that the airport did not have complimentary wi-fi. No, they had wi-fi service for four dollars an hour. Since I was going to be there less than an hour I figured it wasn’t worth it, and decided to call her.
That’s when I realized that I didn’t have the cellphone. I’m not in the habit of carrying it everywhere, so I’d left it at home. This is not merely inconvenient, it’s really going to bite me in the butt later on; you’ll see.
So the flight boarded. I was pretty worried. In the end, I’m not afraid of flying per se, I just hate takeoffs and landings. And…I was worried abut my anxiety level. But despite feeling afraid, nothing bad actually happened to me. Unfortunately I didn’t have anything to listen to (I hadn’t thrown any actual music on the iPod) so I basically just sucked it up the entire flight. I did get a little sleep, but mostly I was scared the whole time.
Which, frankly, was stupid because all in all, it was a great flight – smooth takeoff and landing, very little turbulence and we landed twenty minutes early because we had a good tail wind.
So I get off the plane into the largest airport I’ve ever seen. They’ve got people movers. They’ve got a tram. They’ve also got this long tunnel connecting one half of the airport to the other that has frosted glass on the walls that light up different colors in time with the muzak that is playing overhead. Seriously.
That was very cool and surprisingly calming.
But still, I’m in Detroit, Michigan. I do not know a soul. I have no phone. And while I’ve got an address for my hotel I’ve no idea how I’m going to get there. I don’t even know if it’s in Detroit or closer to Plymouth (the town where Stardock is).
So I ascend an escalator just outside the Tunnel of Sound and Light and as I get off it I look to my left. There I see – and I am not kidding – a stand for the Traveler’s Aid Society. And here I thought it wasn’t going to exist for another three thousand years.
Taking this as a sign, I approach them and take out the address for my hotel. And they kindly, kindly give me a map that has both Canton Township (where the hotel is) and Plymouth on it. And point me in the direction of the cab stands.
Now, the direction of the cab stands was also the direction to the shuttles that ferry people to the car rental places. Since I was going to be driving out of Detroit and back I figured I’d do better renting a car than taking a cab everywhere. So I take a shuttle to Budget car rentals. There I am informed that renting a car will be $126 and can I please see your credit card? I hand the nice lady my card; she runs it and frowns.
Now, you see, I don’t have a real credit card. I have a couple of check cards tied to two different bank accounts. Both of them had enough money to cover the rental, but because they weren’t “real” credit cards they couldn’t be used to rent a car. So…no car. I’d been dragging my bags around for an hour now, and I knew Jamie had to be getting nervous because I hadn’t contacted her yet. So I ask the girl at the counter to call me a cab.
I cabbed to the hotel, which was pretty easy to find. As I entered the hotel parking lot I noticed the nearby White Castle restaurant, which also bode well. I paid the cab driver, went inside and said, “My name is Anthony Salter. I have a reservation.”
I’ve always wanted to say that.
Checking in to the hotel was painless and they had free wi-fi. They’ve also got these things called “phones” in each room, so I call Jamie. I tell her everything that has happened so far, and of course, now I’m about to drop dead from exhaustion. But I’m also starving, so once I get done talking to Jamie I walk out to the White Castle and get four of them, which I then bring back to the hotel room and eat with relish. Uh…not really with relish, just with great enjoyment. A White Castle already has pickles on it, it doesn’t need relish.
ANYway, as soon as my stomach is full I cannot keep my eyes open any longer. I plug in my laptop so it can charge and I hit the hay. This was at about 6 PM local time (Michigan is in Eastern Time, an hour ahead us here in Texas). I set the alarm to go off at 9 PM.
Which it does. I start boning up for the interview. I skim through what I think the most relevant parts of Game Coding Complete 3 will be (tools, matrix math and debugging, mostly). I do this for about two and a half hours and go back to bed around 11:30 PM. Interview is at 1 PM the following day.
I wake up at 3:30 AM. I toss and turn for a half-hour before I realize I’m not going to get back to sleep. So I get up and do some more preparation for the interview. I answer some C++ trivia questions online. I read through parts of Effective C++ again and also skim some of my questionnaires that I still had from previous interviews. I shave. I realize that I left my nose hair trimmer at home so I spend a painful half-hour doing some hand plucking. I upload some music to the iPod, thinking it’ll help on the trip home.
Around 6 AM I start feeling sleepy again. I set the alarm clock for 9 AM and get back in the bed.
I wake up at 11:30. The alarm clock had been set to radio and the static that was issuing forth wasn’t enough to wake me up. My interview is in an hour and a half and I am in my underwear.
Now I’m panicking, not only because of my interview but because check-out time at the hotel is noon. I shower really fast. I throw on my nicer clothes and lace up my stormtrooper boots. I throw all the detritus that I’d spread around the room back into my clothing duffel and my backpack, hoping I don’t forget anything. I call the front desk and ask them to call me a cab. I race downstairs and check out just before noon. My cab arrives. I go out and throw the bags into the back of the cab. The cab driver says, “Where are you heading?”
It is then that I realize that I cannot remember Stardock’s exact address. All I remember is that it’s in Plymouth. But I know exactly how to find out; it’s all on Stardock’s web page. I pull out the iPod, run back into the hotel, and try to look it up.
Except that suddenly the hotel’s wi-fi has stopped working. It keeps connecting and disconnecting, never actually bringing up the page. The cab driver honks, so I jump in and say that I want to go to Stardock Corporation. The dispatcher can’t find a listing for it. Finally I say, “Let’s just head to Plymouth and we’ll figure it out from there”. I’m hoping that we’ll drive by an unsecured site long enough for me to bring up the page, but that never happens. Finally we get to Plymouth and I jump out and enter a small coffee shop. It doesn’t have wi-fi, but it does have a phone book.
Which doesn’t have a listing for Stardock.
At this point it’s a few minutes to one. One of the things that I think defines me is that I am never, ever late to an appointment. Ever. And here I am, about to be late to one of the most important ones of my life!
So I ask the nice girl behind the counter (notice how nice everybody has been so far? It’s almost like Texas) if she’s got a computer I can use for a minute. She can’t let me, but I write “Stardock Corporation” on a piece of paper, she goes back to the back and her Google-fu is obviously mighty because she comes right back with the address and phone number. I am so grateful I nearly cry.
I hop back in the cab to discover that the cab’s dispatcher has also looked the company up on the internet and discovered the same address. So now all we have to do is follow the GPS.
Right.
When we got to where the GPS told us to turn, it was closed off with a chain. There was a McDonald’s right next door, so I knew we had to be close (Brad used to talk all the time about eating at a nearby McDonald’s on the Poweruser Podcast). I suggested that we turn into the road next to the McDonald’s. The cab driver says, “Nah, nothing back there but McDonald’s parking.” So we find another way into the complex with the chained-off entrance and drive around the big building there. The cabbie stops someone coming out and asks him if he’s ever heard of Stardock. Nope. Then he asks him what the address on the building is. It’s 14990 and we’re looking for 15090.
So I ask the cabbie, “Please can you turn into that road next to McDonald’s? It’s got to be there!” The cabbie grumbles, “All right, but I don’t think…”
Notice that while it denotes the address, it does not give you any information about how to get there from the street. So let’s switch to satellite view!
The building just east of Beck Road with the green roof is the McDonald’s. Notice how the road next to it keeps going past it, dips down a hill and ends up at a mysterious building!
And thus, I arrived at Stardock Corporation, about twenty-five minutes late. I gave the cab driver a huge tip, picked up my bags and walked inside, certain that I was doomed from the start.
A nice HR lady instantly finds me and gives me a place to put my bags. I apologize profusely about my tardiness; she brushes it off and tells me that she was late to her own interview for the same reason. She then sat me down in a conference room, brought me a glass of water and summoned my interrogators – uh, I mean, interviewers. Once again I was talking to Scott Tykoski, Cari Begle and Jesse Brindle.
And thus began one of the best interviews I’ve ever had. There was nothing difficult or confrontational about it. They asked me again about what games I liked to play. They asked me very, very little about my previous work history, preferring to focus on the games I’d done for myself on the side. I told them about how Inaria had started as a forty-hour challenge and then been ported to the iPhone. I passed around the iPod and they all took a look at it and seemed impressed. Scott asked me if I’d done any other challenges, so I told him about the One Page Game I wrote.
To my utter, utter surprise, at no point was I required to answer C++ trivia questions or write code on a whiteboard.
Indeed, after a very pleasant conversation with the three of them, Scott and Jesse got back to work and Cari took me to see Brad. Again, I had an incredibly pleasant conversation with him – not about my previous work, but about what games I’d played and enjoyed and why.
Then Brad asked if I wanted the tour. Did I.
Brad showed me around the very nice office space at Stardock. He told me that the building had been built for lawyers and doctors but they had trouble renting (possibly due to the fact that it’s so darn hard to find) and so Stardock has been slowly buying the whole place up. The building is gorgeous and is surrounded by not one but two ponds. (Ponds! Standing pools of water that don’t instantly dry up! What a concept!)
He took me around to meet all the developers, artists, and support and marketing teams. I saw the Whiteboard Wall and even got a brief look at Elemental. He even took me out to see the bees, which was awesome. Then we headed back to his office.
It turns out that Stardock shares something in common with Valve, Bungie and Irrational Games – they don’t have dedicated designers. Everyone contributes to the design. This is why they needed someone competent at programming, but also very familiar with game history and design.
Which is why he then offered me the job. In fact, I found out from Cari later that they’d pretty much decided I was the right guy after the phone interview and just flew me up to make sure I was who I’d presented myself as on the phone!
And while it may take a while for us to get up there (we’ve some things we need to take care of here) we’re definitely going. I’m going to work for Stardock on Elemental and have a White Christmas this year.
Fortunately the flight was uneventful…but attempts to rent a car were stymied by the fact that I don’t have any real credit cards. I finally had to take a cab to the hotel, which is in a little town called Canton. (Stardock is in a little town a little farther out called Plymouth.) I’ve got my laptop, wireless internet, and WHITE CASTLES for dinner. White Castle doesn’t exist in Texas. We don’t even have Krystals in Texas. So if you want teeny-tiny burgers smothered in pickles and onions and you’re in Texas, you’re pretty much out of luck.
This by itself might be a reason to move to Michigan. Also, the weather is nice, the trees are…trees (as opposed to Texas, where our trees are simply tall bushes) and it’s nice and cool. Yes, I know, that cool is going to turn cold but right now it feels great.
In about three hours I’ll be at the airport. In about five my flight leaves. In about eight I’ll be in Michigan.
It is going to be hard keeping my inner fanboy in check. If I’m not careful I’ll end up giggling excitedly the whole time I’m at Stardock.
Updates will follow, mostly posted from my brand new netbook. I had several people tell me, “Just try it, you’ll get used to it” and when I found out that there were some netbook models that were slightly larger than the typical ten inches I decided to go for it.
So I ended up with a Gateway LT31, which I’d never heard of until I saw it at Best Buy. To my surprise, it had almost everything I was looking for. The screen is 11.6 inches at 1366×768, and while it’s widescreen I’m not having that much trouble reading it. The keys on the keyboard are nice and big, it’s got a 250-gig hard drive, an AMD processor, two gigs of RAM out of the box and a dedicated Radeon graphics chip instead of the awful Intel 950 integrated graphics most models of this type are stuck with. And the price was $379.
Cons? It came with Vista, which I had to scrub and replace with XP. And the AMD processor and graphics processor suck up a lot more power than your average netbook, so the battery life is only about five and a half hours…which, goshwow, is more than enough for me.
Visual Studio Express installed just fine and Planitia compiled cleanly (though it runs a little slow, surprise surprise). Warcraft III runs just fine, but I haven’t had a chance to put it to the WoW test…that game takes a long time to download, dontcha know.
The thing is, I’m absolutely amazed at how creative I am…when I’m asleep.
When I’m awake? Not so much. Let’s think about this: all my games have been rehashes of older games that I enjoyed that no one is making any more. That’s not particularly creative.
In my dreams, though? I’ve composed music, written entire stories (which play out like movies), and designed much more creative video games.
For instance, just a couple nights ago, I dreamt I was watching an anime about a young girl who is normally sweet and kind, but has a magical, demonic side that she must struggle to control. I remember the name of the anime: Avertigo. I even remember the anime’s logo. But I woke up before I saw the ending.
A while back after a day working on Inaria, I dreamt I was in a cathedral-like structure, bright with clouds near the ceiling. In the center of the floor was a circular map of a fantasy world. Realizing I was dreaming, I stepped over to the map in order to try to memorize it. As I did so, a gospel choir started singing:
‘Cross this great world I have trod
Stood astride it like a god
And then, maddeningly, I woke up. I remember the lyrics and even the tune, but I have no idea what the next line was going to be.
I also recently dreamed that I was a new hire at a software development firm. The facility was incredibly impressive, with futuristic-looking corridors lit by soft light, a huge break room with tons of arcade games, huge glass windows that looked out onto a beautifully-landscaped quad and…um…a room full of pods that you could step into that would clean and dry both you and your clothes in a matter of minutes.
That one was probably Stardock. When an issue is weighing heavily on my mind, I tend to dream of two extremes – the best I can imagine and the worst I can imagine.
F’rinstance, there was one Christmas when I was twelve or thirteen where my sleep was incredibly fitful – and every time I managed to fall back asleep, I’d dream one extreme and then other. In one version, our presents were ornaments our mother plucked off the tree; in the other the living room was packed with presents and there were hoverbikes and such.
But the biggest problem is that while I’m sitting there, effectively munching popcorn and watching this incredibly interesting scenario unfold, I tend to realize that I’m about to wake up. Your dreams are most clear and coherent when you are at the end of your sleep cycle, and then I wake up and I’m just boring old me again, and I try to grab as many details about what I was dreaming as I can.
I have once (once!) managed to complete a story in my dreams…but I think I’ll save that one for another time.
I wind up, I get excited. I’m going to do it this time. (It being lose 50 pounds, finish Inaria, clean the house, whatever.) Then as I start to work I wind down, and I always wind down before I’m finished. Thus I have to finish the task when it doesn’t excite me at all; it’s now drudgery.
But then something happens! I get wound up again! And this time I know it’ll last! This time I know I’ll succeed!
The thing that winds me up the most when it comes to game development is talking about games. Not making them – the effort of making them tends to unwind me. But discussing games, reading about game design, reading other people’s development blogs – all these things wind me up.
But I’ve had a hard time getting wound up since…well, pretty much since the Great Unpleasantness last October.
For a long time after my surgeries, I had anxiety problems. Bad anxiety problems. I-don’t-want-to-get-out-of-bed-because-that-might-trigger-my-pacemaker anxiety problems. At the time, when just driving to work at Aspyr would trigger a panic attack (what was I going to do if it went off while I was driving?) I yearned for it to be a year later…after my anxiety had resolved and my heart was doing fine and everything was okay.
Well, it’s almost a year later. My anxiety problems are almost completely resolved (though I am still on some medication for it). My heart is doing fine.
But everything isn’t okay.
If you’ve been reading my professional blog, you’ve probably seen the decline in both the quality and quantity of posts over there. It really does feel like I’ve lost something – like my heart problems knocked something off me that I haven’t recovered. Or perhaps I’ve gained something; something that has mired me into almost not caring about game development any more.
Almost.
I need something to wind me up. Sitting at home working on stuff isn’t doing it. Perhaps what I’m saying is that I miss the social experiences that come with game development.
And…I’m back to reading accomplishment porn. That’s never a good sign. Right now I’m reading Mike Hommel’s development journal (and watching his Behind the Dumb series of videos) and it’s great stuff. Mike just keeps everything so light and airy and fun and I just don’t feel like I can do that any more without it feeling forced.
A year ago I wished it were a year later. Now I still wish it were a year later. Or that I could shake this malaise that is preventing me from finishing Inaria and Let’s Play Starflight and that video on Startopia I’ve been wanting to do forever…or even posting a new Name That Game, which would take, like, fifteen minutes.
There’s a Bible verse, Romans 12:2 : “And be not conformed to this world: but be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind, that ye may prove what is that good, and acceptable, and perfect, will of God.”
Now, I’m not terribly big on religion, but the phrase “the renewing of your mind” sounds like just what I need. I just don’t have any real idea how to get it.
And I really liked it. If you’ve ever seen the original Shane Acker short, you might be disappointed since nothing will really surprise you. Fortunately, I hadn’t. While the plot was pretty predictable, the characters were easily identifiable despite only having numbers for names, and the action pieces were pretty darn awesome. The voice work was very good, and I was surprised at how dark the movie was…it’s a post-apocalyptic movie, so at some point you have to show the apocalypse. I think they pushed the limits of PG-13 there, despite there being almost no blood in the movie. Took the older daughter, had a fun time. Got Amy’s ice cream afterwards.
Okay! So I’m taking a trip to Michigan. (Still don’t know when; the Stardock folk are probably still recovering from PAX.) It is traditional upon taking such a trip to bring along a laptop so that you can a) stay in touch, b) cram it full of your demos to show your interviewers and c) play World of Warcraft in your hotel room.
But I can’t seem to find one I like. My friend Ryan Clark (who I’ve mentioned before) gave me an old (VERY old) laptop of his called a Panasonic Let’s Note CF-T4. As you might can guess from the website, he imported it from the ancient shores of Nippon.
Now, to me, this was nearly the perfect laptop. I liked the form factor (10.5 inches by 8 inches). I liked that the screen was big (12.1 inches diagonal), was 4:3 ratio and was a standard resolution (1024×768). I liked the fact that it did not have an internal CD or DVD drive, since those things only get used occasionally while they add weight, generate heat and suck up power all the time. I liked how light it was (about three pounds) and how long the battery lasted (about five hours). I liked that it was more than capable of development – indeed, this is the machine that CrazyBump was written on.
The only, ONLY thing I didn’t like was that its 733 megahertz processor meant that it was just a little too slow to play WoW.
So basically I want a laptop just like Ryan’s, only with a slightly faster processor and maybe more RAM. And since Ryan’s is five years old, I shouldn’t have to pay too much for one, right? Right?
Well, in this case, they don’t make ‘em like they used to.
Laptops at this point have diverged into two paths: either expensive, big, heavy, full-featured “desktop replacement” models, or cheap, adorable, super-light, super-small “netbook” models. Neither fits my bill. A netbook of any type would be perfect…if it were just a little bigger! I can’t be constantly backspacing to fix errors due to tiny keys and I cannot peer into one of those things’ tiny screens.
I’ve looked ’round the internet a fair bit to try to find a suitable one, but companies tend to drop older models of laptops like hot bricks once the new ones come out. I wouldn’t mind a used one as long as I could make sure everything worked…but I’d really like a new one (or rather, an unused one). At this point I’m tempted to start cruising pawn shops.
