Picking an idea, self-plagiarism and figuring out how to start

After my last post about remembering how to come up with ideas, I was left with another conundrum to navigate: actually choosing an idea to start developing into a game.

Choosing my idea ended up being about finding something that felt like it had legs. Something that I thought had a lot of different possibilities, even if I couldnt quite see all the possibilities yet. It felt a bit like staring at a bunch of puddles, and trying to figure out which one was the deepest by only looking at them.

My original sketch for the first idea of what the BOXBOT game might end up being.


I shared the above sketch previously of an idea I was playing around with about a year ago when I started thinking of making a game. I was calling this game BOXBOT, and my idea for it was to make a very simple game where you move a character back and forth and catch boxes on your head as they fall from the sky. The main mechanic would be around trying to maintain your balance as the tower became taller and taller. It was a direct rip off of a mini-game from the Nintendo Wii game, WarioWare: Smooth Moves. I literally thought to myself, I should make a game like that game. I kind of thought it would be easy.

This is the minigame from WarioWare that I originally based my idea for BOXBOT on.

BOXBOT never felt like an idea with depth. I felt like I could see all that the idea had to offer before I even started. In a way, that might have been good like having an idea for a painting that you can see vividly in your mind before you start painting I sometimes think having a vision and inspiration for something can be a good place to start. In this case, though, I could see that game clearly in my mind and it just didnt excite me, which is part of why I think I never pursued it further.

In another way, I think having an idea that isnt so clear in your mind can actually be a more exciting artistic endeavour. The feeling of experimentation, exploration and discovery you can have from figuring out what that work is, is in a lot of ways the very ethos of what I want this project to be about. Its about learning and uncovering things I didnt think I could do. For that reason, I feel like my idea should be something I discover as I work on it.


After exploring a few different ideas, I eventually came back to BOXBOT, because something about the character and the wrapping of that idea felt like it had potential it was just the game part that I didnt love. Thats where Andy J. Pizzas idea about plagiarizing yourself came into play for me, and everything seemed to come together. Essentially, his idea is to look to your own past work and to pull from those ideas in the future when youre trying to find something to work on now refining your own ideas from the past by plagiarizing yourself in the present.

From last year, this is a design I made for the BOXBOT character. I still really like that sketch of them running with the box in the background here.

Several years ago, I wrote and drew a four-page comic about a strange little creature that lives in a cardboard box, loves boxes, and collects them in their box house with a disturbing, fetishistic obsession. At the time, it felt a bit like a throw-away idea, but Ive always been really fond of the character and the box collector idea. I think the idea is partly drawn from my own instinct for hoarding boxes from every computer, iPod and game system Ive ever bought something Ive been working very hard to get over in recent years.

So thats where everything clicked, thematically, and I found the narrative for my game: you play as a box-collecting robot (made out of a cardboard box) designed by an obsessive box-collector to go out into the world and find more boxes for them to hoard.

Once Id convinced myself about the direction of my idea for the story and justification for this game, I started to rework my idea for the gameplay mechanics. The falling and balancing boxes idea from earlier was clearly not interesting enough, but I started to think of an idea where youd stack boxes on your head and try to balance them as you navigate through an obstacle course. Something like one of those egg-and-spoon races, except youre trying to balance three eggs on top of eachother at once.

In the end, I realized the idea of building a physics-based game wasnt the direction I actually wanted to go. Im not really interested in writing my own physics engine (and Im quite sure that that is outside of my ability, too), and so building a game around manipulating physics to keep something in balance wasnt the direction I wanted to take. But the idea of stacking these boxes on top of your head was still interesting to me.

In the end, the idea I came up with was solidified when I made this paper prototype of a super simple level to justify an idea to myself.

I made this prototype for a level idea with paper cutouts so I could manipulate them in real time. Ive heard of the idea of paper prototypes before, but Im not really sure if this is actually what that is. In any case, it really helped me picture the flow of this gameplay idea.

In the game, youll be presented with a level and a series of boxes you have to collect before you can exit. But, unlike other games where, when you pick up a collectible, it gets added to an inventory and effectively stops existing in the world, in this game, when you pick up a box it will get stacked on top of your head. This means that as you collect the objective boxes in each level, the size, shape and weight of the player character will start to change. What I came up with in my super simple paper prototype was a level where, if you pick up the boxes from left to right, you wont be able to fit in the last area to pick up the final box. So, instead, you have to pick up the boxes from right to left to be able to exit.

This idea is what Im talking about when I say I want an idea that I can feel has depth, even if I cant see everything yet. To me, the different ways that picking up the boxes will affect how you can navigate the level feels like something I can iterate on endlessly to create a lot of interesting little puzzle rooms for players to figure out.

And so, that new gameplay idea, paired with a solid feeling narrative concept, led me to feeling ready to start prototyping. And thats where I hit my next roadblock: how do you actually start making a game?

Now I’m trying to figure out how to actually start making a game. It’s going very well.

Blog appendix: taking time away from this project

When I announced that I wanted to make a game, I deliberately avoided committing to a cadence for these blog posts. Part of that was because I was already committing to one big project (making a game) and committing to another felt like I might be biting off more than I could chew. Another reason, though, is that I already have had plenty of professional experience that told me that sticking to that kind of schedule would only do one thing: create a lot of artificial stress for myself.

I love deadlines. They are, in a lot of ways, the only thing that truly motivates me to get anything done. But with longer term projects especially ones that are meant to be done in your spare time I find that setting arbitrary deadlines for yourself can create a lot of self-imposed stress, and they rarely account for the unpredictability of life.

And so, even though in my mind I had softly committed to weekly blog posts, I ended up skipping a couple weeks because other work, family emergencies, my own mental health and less dramatic things like relaxing and spending time with my partner all took precedence over this project.

And heres the thing: I dont think any of that is bad, and I dont believe that mentality will prevent me from finishing this game.

One of the many harmful rhetorics that is perpetuated by basically everyone, whether they realize it or not, is that you have to sacrifice everything if you want to be successful. Your friends, family, personal life and health all of those need to come second to your work if you want to make a splash in the world. To me, that feels wrong, and it certainly doesnt seem worth it. 

And so, if Im going to commit to anything with this project, it will be that it will not become a source of negativity in my life, and Ill continue to make space for everything else if this work starts to get in the way.

I’m making a game!

But I don’t know how to make games.


For a pretty long time I’ve been curious about making video games. I’ve loved games since I was a kid, and have admired the work of many game designers for years. There’s something special about interactive art that really excites me it’s similar to the feeling I get from animating and bringing pictures to life. It’s magical! 儭

But here’s the thing: I’m an artist/illustrator/animator/designer/creative person who, for a very long time, thought that making games was something I just couldn’t do. Largely because I got a 51 in grade 11 math and don’t know how to “code”.

Portrait of a robot trying to fit in. We all feel like impostors from time to time.

The thing is, I didn’t know how to do anything until I learned how to do it. Recently, I’ve really embraced the discomfort of learning new things. I’m learning Chinese (very slowly) and bought a skateboard and fell off of it a bunch of times. It’s a magical kind of thrill to do something with the certainty that it won’t go perfectly because you’ve never done it before. There are insurmountable feelings of impostor-syndrome associated with it, too (I’m still working up the nerve to hit the skate park), but maybe just admitting publicly that I have no idea what I’m doing is a good way of getting over that.

So I’m gonna figure out how to make a game. And this blog will be a record of that process.

I’ve decided to commit to making, finishing, and releasing a game. That’s just about all I know about how I’m going to do it, too. I’m hoping that part of the value of sharing this learning process in public will be to show that you really can just decide to do things. We manage to self-sabotage a lot we decide that our ideas are dumb before they’ve even fallen out of our heads so I’m just going to decide that this is a good idea and do it.


What I’m bringing to the table.

In case someone else finds this and wants to use it as a bit of a guide for making a game, I thought it would be useful to go over the things I already know.

Professionally, I’m an artist who primarily works in illustration, animation and graphic design. Games have a big artistic component to them that I know these skills will contribute to. From character design to animation, UI design to environment art the part of figuring out how things are going to look is something I know I have the skills (and the tools) to manage.

I also have a good amount of experience working with 3D software (3Ds Max, Blender and a bit of Maya) which will come in handy, too.

In university, I took a Game Design course where you were put into a small team and told to make a game over the duration of the semester. That course was kind of awful for the artists, though. It was meant to be an exciting collaboration between a group of art school kids and a group of computer science kids, but in the end it was very self-directed and I didn’t learn much about actually making games.

The main character of our game was a firefighter with a sort of lamp for a face. There was supposed to be some fire in his face but I don’t think that ever got figured out in-game since you always saw them from the back.

I used a peer’s character design to make a really basic character model, rigged it and made a few animations for that character. This was my first introduction to the Unity game engine, and I learned how to import animations into the editor (though I never got the chance to actually learn how to hook up and trigger those animations). The majority of that project was run by the programming students, which made sense since the artists had no idea what we were doing. It was kind of a discouraging experience.

Despite feeling kind of negative about that game design course overall, I was always really happy with this idle animation.

Since then, it took me a while to get the game-making itch again. University burnt me out on art making and learning in general, and only recently have I once again found myself interested in either.

About a year ago I experimented with making a prototype for a game, but my heart wasn’t really in it and I abandoned it after a couple days.

This is a screenshot from this abandoned prototype. I don’t really understand what I was trying to do, and some navigation plugin that I didn’t understand how to use at the time is broken now.

I’ve since spent some of my spare time working with tutorials from Unity’s learning platform (which is free right now, and a really wonderful resource), as well as getting a bit of an intro to Unity’s programming language, C#, from different channels on YouTube (like Sebastian Lague’s Intro to Game Development course, which is insanely good and free).

At this point, I feel like I could keep trying to learn from tutorials alone, but I’m feeling empowered enough to dive into the deep end and learn by trying to make my own thing (and messing up a lot).

So that’s my introduction post! Thanks so much for reading this, if you did. I’m going to go start now and I’ll be back when I’ve done something I can show! Let’s do it!

Learning can be painful but it can also be thrilling!

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