I realise that the previous posting makes me sound quite bitter, and while that may be true
at times - some days I do feel a little bitter - it's not an indication of how I feel in
general. In general, things are okay. They're not great, they're not terrible - they're okay. I'm not about to retract any of the statements below, because it's all true: it
is tough to get anything going, and it
is very frustrating to be where I'm at right now and feel completely powerless and utterly useless.
In theory, I have two jobs. Job one: I'm a writer and designer. That's what I do on a daily basis. I write story articles, I update the story Bible, I put together story elements for upcoming story content, I create story-based NPC designs and dialogue, and I answer story-related e-mails. I also design things that will - hopefully - make it into the game, either through the expansion pack, or through patches - like the first concept for a revised character creation, the initial design for Jobe, and some other stuff that I can't talk about yet. With this job, I'm a part of the AO team, and I answer to the game director. I'm not a lead. I don't tell anyone what to do.
My second job -
in theory, mind - is being the creative director of Funcom. This is a management position, sort of. I say "sort of", because there's no real management-level authority or mandate. I have the opportunity to give input on certain issues - creative ones - and I'm able to bring certain topics to the table - again, creative ones - for consideration. This is a good thing. A long time ago, I argued that there was little to no concern for creative issues (and by
creative, I mean game-related content, quality issues, game-play, the presentation of our "products" both internally and to the public...in other words, that whole developer-thing) in the decision-making process, and no one to speak on the behalf of the designers and the players. Thus, the role of the creative director was born, and I was it. Formally, though, there's never really
been a creative director position; and while this role was initially supposed to encompass the work of the individual game directors - the vision-bearers and creative leads on each project - that's never been the case; partly because there's only been one project for some time now, and partly because I haven't done a good enough job pushing for more formalised responsibilities.
Who, then, ensures that there's a focus on the game, on quality and content, in the decision-making process? Fortunately, there are other individuals with more power, more authority, who care about game-play and quality control in the management structure, and, fortunately, the Funcom hierarchy isn't as strict as it is in other, comparable companies. The "regular employee" can speak up and be listened to. That's pretty rare, to be honest. Funcom isn't a "flat" organisation; it's not a democracy. But it is a place where initiative, spirit, intelligence, and talent bring you further than titles or how long you've worked for the company.
It's about "what are you doing now?" rather than "what have you done before?". Experience counts, but not as much as what you contribute to the company today.
That's good, in general. Like I said in my previous posting, it can be an unfortunate thing as well, when no matter
what you've done, what you've accomplished, you're back to square one when it's time to start anew.
So, two jobs: one contributing a tiny bit - not enough, but doing my best - to Funcom's most important project ever; the other a largely ineffective, but well-intentioned, addition to the management structure. It's a noble ideal, protecting the visionary aspect of game development. But it's one that often falls victim to circumstances, not the least of which is an inability to effectuate change; to actually carry through on idealistic issues, to institute a policy. My fault? At least partly, yes, absolutely.
What to do about it? Everything boils down to one thing, all my concerns and worries and complaints and hopes: My desire to make a game. It's as simple as that. I don't know what your passions are, those of you who read through all this, but I'm certain that, at one point or another in your life, you've felt as though your dreams and ambitions have been restrained by mundane practicalities, or by other people, or by circumstances; that you haven't been able to do the thing you most want to do, even when it's your job, even when it's your
life (as game-development and writing is to me). I'm sure most of you can sympathise with the sentiments, if not my apparent bitterness.
Trust me; it ain't bitterness. It's frustration. It's frustration on behalf of myself, and on behalf of the gamers out there. Because the greatest joy is in creating something that people eventually get to play and comment on and criticise and love and hate. Nothing beats that. Nothing. And to be denied that whole process, that whole creative loop...that
really does suck. Big time.
