In the beginning there was a loop.
A loop that trapped an external stimulus. A stimulus that caused the world to move a tiny bit. A tiny bit of movement that resulted in a collision. A collision that fed back to the world outside.
There was a game!
By starting from simple principles, you’ve built a full-featured game from the ground up. Where there was nothing, there now stands … well, something. Something kind of fun. The gap between reality and the game ideas in your head has narrowed. What will you make next? A tower defense survival game? A sailboat exploration game? An RPG about librarians? It’s up to you; you have all the tools you need to create entire worlds. You’ve reached an achievement that many strive for but very few attain. You’re a game developer.
You reflect on this while sitting in your formal attire in the main function hall of the annual Independent Game Developer Competition awards ceremony. Pengolfin’ did well: it picked up an honorable mention, while EGI’s embarrassing Candy Crush clone—Gummi Bash—was nowhere to be seen. You now fidget nervously, moments away from the announcement of the winner of The Grand Prize in the Category of Excellence in Making Some Games.
The lights dim, and the crowd falls silent. The host strides over to the podium, opening an envelope with a flourish. “And the Independent Game Developer Competition Grand Prize in the Category of Excellence in Making Some Games goes to …”—a nervous buzz fills the air—“Exploitative Games, Inc.—and MomPop Games! For the first time in the history of the competition, we have a tie!”
A tie? What?! Do we win the bet? You rise and look around, and slowly walk towards the stage.
Guy Shifty joins you, beaming his corporate smile and waving at people in the crowd. “Not bad, MomPop Games,” he says out the corner of his mouth. “I have to say, you put up a pretty good fight, and certainly kept me entertained. You really showed some indie gamedev spirit. Pity you lost … well, pity you didn’t win.”
“What?!” you exclaim, as you turn to him in desperation. “I beat you in mobile and tied on desktop. You have to give us a break. You can’t shut down the coworking space!”
A ponderous expression falls over Shifty’s face. “Tell you what—I’ll withdraw my tender on the space so you can keep your little clubhouse open. On one condition.” He stops walking and turns to you, and an impish look enters his eye. “You create a brand new game in a 36-hour, live-coding battle extravaganza against my top five programmers and artists. It’ll be like—like an underground ‘game-dev-off’. Yeah! Fight Club for gamedevs! We’ll have DJs and strobe lights, and I’ll get some celebrities to judge the best game. Winner takes all! What do you say?”
He may be a weird and infuriating nemesis, but we certainly are being productive. I guess you’d better get busy if you want to win the competition!
[Roll Credits]