There’s a thread over at Story-Games asking designers why they make games right now. It’s full of great reasons to make games, some of them perceptive, some of them funny, some of them sort of poetic.
I’ve always made games, as far as I can recall. In first grade I upgraded a pretty boring game into the magnificent and unplayable “Jesus tic-tac-toe” (you needed ten across!). After spending a feverish weekend playing Wumpus Hunt on my uncle’s brand new Kaypro II, I reverse engineered it for tabletop play. Another time I drew page after page of elaborate combinations of choose-your-own adventure and side-scrolling analog video game.
I’ve always loved to play, and to create new things, and to puzzle out conundrums, and to express myself with words and art and performance. My love for making games is a little obsessive and weird. I’m OK with that. I think play is important — I think it is a survival trait just as valuable as thumbs. I love to play and I love the clever, strange, kind-hearted and passionate people I get to meet and play with. I love the fact that I can make things with skill and pride that return some small measure of good to the world.
There’s so much goodness — my own joy in creation, my delight in play, my deep satisfaction in seeing others similarly delighted in my work, a profound sense of camaraderie and mutual support, and the rewards both material and emotional. Making games brings me all this and I’m very grateful for it.