Why Bother

One upon a time, when wishes were still worth something, storytellers wandered this world, carrying their tales in pockets and pouches.
-John Wick, Orkworld

I've been struggling this past month. Struggling with a darkness and depression. Struggling with the nagging voice in the back of my head, the voice that is whispering, "Why bother? Why bother?"

Creatively, it has been a difficult month for me. Little Fears has taken the gaming world by storm (or so it seems), and with each passing day, it seems that someone else has something bad to say about it, especially my contribution. Unemotional, it has been called. The worst piece of writing of its kind. Some artists take this criticism and strike back. I tend to curl up into a ball, emotionally. And the voice whispers, "Why bother?"

Sugar & Spice is struggling to form. Certainly the writing is proceeding easily and the art is beginning to come in. But the system still eludes me, and my well of inspiration seems to have run dry. And the voice whispers, "Why bother?"

Sales reports came back. Junk is not doing as well as I would have hoped. Only one review has materialized of which I am aware. My personal one-man revolution seems to be going nowhere. And the voice whispers, "Why bother?"

Have you ever been where I am now? Ever looked at your creative efforts and wondered why you bother? This does not just apply to big projects, like game design. Ever feel like you have lost your groove as a GM or player and you just want to give up on gaming forever? Ever hear the voice whispering in your ear?

Now, I am not talking about writer's block. We have already talked about that. I am talking about the gut-sinking sense, nay, certainty that what you are doing is an utter complete waste of time, that all your nastiest critics are right, that you should just throw in the towel right now. This is a hard feeling to shake. After all, doing what I do takes a lot of effort. Every week I put a bit of my heart and soul into writing this column for you. I try to manage a business. All this on top of all my other responsibilities. It is a hard thing to consider that your passion might be a complete waste of time.

Of course, the rest of the world looks on and scoffs. Games. Games are for children. The impractical. The foolish. Grown-ups don't do that sort of thing. Even other gamers are not much help. So often the kind words of praise and encouragement are rare, and the raging voices of dissent, anger, and disgust rise to the surface. Some days I wonder why I even turn on my computer and get online. It only exposes me to the harshness of the online community. It hurts. It really hurts.

So why do it? Why bother at all?

Tuesday night I logged on to the RPGnet chat room. It was late. I was tired. I should have been in bed. Instead, there I was, talking about games and gaming with a couple of other folks. We got to talking about past gaming experiences and reminiscing about the games we played when we were younger. I confessed my former love of Rolemaster and told of the horror game that I ran using Hero System. I put candles all over the backyard, which set a wonderful mood for the game. In term, the person to whom I was speaking told me about playing D&D almost every day with his older brother when they were younger. We both lamented the passing of our childhoods.

And that's when it hit me. In that moment, I knew why I do game design and I remembered why I love it so much.

There's magic in it.

I'm serious. Real life magic. The joy of childhood. The wonder of play when the world was bursting with possibilities and every nook and cranny held the promise of new adventure. A drawing back of the dreams of old. At its best, when someone makes a game, they are taking this magic and packing it into a book or game set and giving it to others. At its best, game design is about spreading the magic.

I was walking into the local library recently and the security guard hailed me by name. I was struggling to remember him when he asked me how Junk was doing. Then I remembered. I had demoed Junk to him on a couple of occasions, once at a local convention and once at a gaming store. He started raving about how much he loved the game, how his teenage daughter got the biggest kick out of it. His eyes lit up as he talked about it. He had received the magic that I had put into that game.

And he is not the only one. Every so often I hear from someone who just loved Junk and wants to thank me for it. The magic is spreading, slowly but surely.

I hope that I will be able to give you this same sort of magic with Alyria. I hope that it will give you that sense of joy and wonder that I desperately want it to have. I hope that I can make your eyes light up as you play it. Because, more than money or fame or recognition, that is why I design.

There's magic in it.