Dev Log: October 9, 2024
I’ve been waking up hours before dawn more than I’d like. Having trouble finding stillness in the dark, thinking about ways to improve Smart functionality in my home, inventing situations where everything I cherish goes wrong… I’m gonna go ahead and blame those Liquid Death cans with the “microdose” of caffeine, yeah okay.
the author, moments before relieving the babysitter
In my restless hours I end up at my desk, picking at the neglected corners of my work. I finally took a deep breath in Sourcetree and merged my current work’s branch with the main source, which I haven’t touched in a month. I’m embarrassed to admit how much this simple act frightened me. Source control can’t be as safe as it seems, can it? (Before this, for years, I was syncing Dropboxes across devices. What do I know about safety?)
I’ve had no desire to write this week. That’s fine for now - there’s plenty of other things to do. Yesterday I jammed through a dozen art assets that, while not the most urgent, will (I think) help the game to tell its story during the testing process. It’s hard to feel the full effect of the writing when you’re looking at stick drawings, placeholder portraits, or characters who can only face front while walking. Since I’m working near the end of the game, this is my first time really appreciating Soren’s winter backgrounds as more than just files in my folder. They are enchanting, and deserve my best treatment.
But I do need to write soon. Everything at this point in the game feels cathartic or like some kind of goodbye. A lot of it is still a first draft and needs my attention. It’s possible I’m spinning my wheels, not wanting my connection to this world to end. Or I’m just circling slowly around the madness that facilitates writing, a process I really can’t predict or control.
Either way, I’m waiting to feel a way about something that needs to get done soon. I trust the process - urgency has always been a great motivator. Any time I’ve ever luxuriated in the Time it takes to Write, I’ve let good ideas go rancid. Better to feel that heat on my back, the tinge of desperation that makes love and creation and other risky endeavors feel like living.