This is a departure for me - a recent Facebook post by Tim Schafer reminded me that back in 1990 I was excited about the possibility of a special kind of VR rig I thought would be possible in the future.  Turns out the future is now, and although the story I wrote describing what I thought it would be like was rejected (justifiably, I fear) by 3 science fiction magazines at the time, I'm kind of proud of the 25-year-old predictions.  And now I don't need a magazine to publish it!  Judge for yourself:

A Kind of Confidence
Noah Falstein
January 1990

            I saw Julie in the distance, and my heart sank.  She was already talking to Bart, the arrogant jock she had dumped me for.  It was more than I could stand.  I glared at him, disdainfully muttered, "Groundhog,"  and turned.  I took a few deliberate, running steps, and jumped off the cliff.

            I went over head first, keeping my arms stiff and straight at my sides, turning my body into a human bullet.  The base of the cliff was hundreds of feet below, with the ocean washing up against it, crashing into foamy white surf on the sharp rocks.  I aimed at the largest rock I could see.  As I dropped, I felt the wind whipping by my body, and the rocks swiftly drew closer as the whistling grew in my ears.  At this point I began to have second thoughts.  At the moment of impact there'd be a white flash, fading quickly through red to black, and then it would all be over.  But that wouldn't really solve any­thing. 

            I'd done it enough times before.

            A hundred feet above the water, I brought my arms up, straight out to the sides, and spread my fingers.  My wings responded instantly, and filled with air, jerking me up with a rippling boom.  I leveled off less than twenty feet above the water, and skimmed along at an exhilarating speed, letting the thrill of flight wash the anger from me.  After all, Julie was one of the most radical girls I'd ever had the nerve to ask out, and I was just another techno-nerd she'd met at the University.  I was more cranked about how I had fooled myself into thinking she liked me than about how she had treated me.

            I dipped my right arm and banked into a turn, heading back toward the cliff side.  There was always a good updraft there, and I didn't feel like climbing back up on pure muscle power.  Not that I couldn't have done it -- I may be small but my pectorals are rock hard, from flying whenever I can, in the slack time between lessons.  But for now I just wanted to get some altitude.  I'd save my strength for some acrobatics when I reached Angel's Run.  I sculled a bit with my hands to pick up speed, and turned my head to watch the waves skim by, not far under my right wingtip.  Even after hundreds of hours in the air, I got juiced out of watching my huge black wings move in response to my arm and hand motions.  I knew my right arm was there controlling things, but it sure looked and felt like the real thing.

            As I neared the cliff I felt a change in the breeze running across my body.  It grew a bit warmer, and shifted to blow partly from beneath me, giving me lift and buoyancy.  I spread my fingers wider and watched my wings respond, warping for maximum lift and climbing efficiency.  I went into a controlled glide, first swooping along the cliff face in one direction, then turning out to circle and cut back across the face again.  Each pass bought me another fifty feet of altitude, and before long I was at the top.  I edged over, passing twenty feet above the grassy plain that swept back from the cliff edge, over the entry booths, and headed for Angel's Run obstacle course, a mile distant.  I could get a good workout there, and go home tired but satisfied.  There was no sign of Julie or her new blond boyfriend, for which I was truly grateful.  I knew that she had been flying only a few times before, and I was sure she'd have no interest in an advanced run like the obstacle course.  I expected she'd be at Eagle's Roost or one of the other Wingside gathering spots, where the in-crowd usually flocked to be seen.  I hoped that she and Bart hadn't already gone back over, where they could shed their wings at the post-flight lounge, and make out over drinks.

            I kicked myself again for believing she wanted to go flying with me because she liked me, and not just for my flying instructor's free passes.  Julie always had lots of dates, but not many could afford the stiff fees that Flights of Fantasy charged.  I had lusted after her from afar ever since I saw her in an English class.  I finally got up the nerve to ask her out, and stumbled through inviting her for a flight this evening.  She had accepted, and all I could think of was how I would help her into her harness.  When she came out of the locker room in her black leotards with the scarlet stripes and matching spandex bikini brief, I had to give my functional but ragged sweatpants a few tugs to keep from embarrassing myself.  I showed her to the door of her booth, but when I offered to help her into the harness, she looked at me disdainfully.

            "Thanks, Jim," she said, "but Bart here offered to get me started."

            My jaw dropped when I saw Bart -- tall, rugged, and athletic, in a brand-new "wet look" Nike flying suit -- step forward.  He looked vaguely familiar.

            "I'll take it from here, kid," he said.

            Kid!  If he was two years older than me, I'd eat my socks.  I thought of making something of it, but even if managed to intimidate him, I'd lose my instructor's license and be thrown out.  Besides, he had the build of a weight lifter, and although my flying muscles are in great shape, at five foot nine I only weigh 125 pounds.  People are always surprised I make a few extra bucks as a flight instructor in the first place.  They don't realize that in a computer-simulated environment, reflexes and coordination are more important than strength.  In fact, I got into the job because of my programming background.  When Flights of Fantasy opened last year, it was one of the first flying cyberclubs in the country.  Their software was always flaking out or breaking down, and my first trip to "the Other Side" was just so I could debug a new routine.  I never expected that something so physical could be so fun.  But it was great to be one of the insiders.  Perhaps I could use that status to salvage this date.  Bart was like a bad dream.

            "Are you sure you know how to rig the harness?" I protested.  "It can be dangerous if you do it wrong.  You could get tangled in the lines."

            Julie just smiled at me and said, "Don't worry, Jim.  Bart was telling me about how much flying he's done here.  I'm sure I'll be fine.  I'll see you on the Other Side!"

            Before I could think to reply, they'd stepped into the booth.  Bart started adjusting the harness to fit Julie, and I couldn't stand around and watch him in there where moments before I'd imagined myself.  I had to admit, he did seem to know what he was doing.  Then I recognized him -- he was a regular, often showing up with different women, spending more time flirting than flying.  A perfect example of what real fliers contemptuously called "Groundhogs."  I had wondered how well-off he must be to afford the prime-time fees, but considering how I had just financed a date for him, perhaps I was overestimating his wealth.  The only reason I hadn't recognized him before was that I'd mainly seen him on the Other Side, in flight.  When you register at the desk they run a quick 3-D scan of your face for the computer to recreate within the simulation.  I rarely paid much attention to faces on the Other Side, because lots of people choose to appear instead with the faces of celebrities or fantasy creatures.  But Bart was good looking enough to stick with his own smooth features.

            I quickly strapped myself into a harness in an open booth, after automatically checking to see that the tension was adjusted properly to let me float in the middle of the padded room, and that the fans in the walls, ceiling, and floor were all functional.  It really cranks me when a fan gives out.  It ruins the illusion of motion, and robs you of important physical cues you can't get visually.  I ran through the computer checkout on the wall monitor, selecting my avian form, and making sure that the infrared and magnetic sensors on the harness and data gloves were reading the proper position of my torso, legs, arms, and fingers.  Then I lifted on the helmet with its twin color LCD displays, one in front of each eye.  The perspective checked out, and the built-in stereo headphones were working fine.  I looked down at my body.  To my view, I appeared to be a falcon, with human proportions and a ten foot wingspan.  I leaned forward and let the harness take up my weight, distributing most on my torso, but just enough on my arms and legs to make me feel like a bird.  I moved my arms, and my wings responded.  But, for now, I still needed hands.  I straightened my right index finger and curled the other fingers into my palm, following the instructions that appeared to float in the air in front of me.  A gloved hand appeared in front of me, index finger extended.  It followed every move of my own hand, and I "touched" a glowing panel in front of me, the one inscribed with the word "READY" in large block letters.  A door opened, and I stepped though onto a grassy plain.  I was on the Other Side.

            Everyone enters the Wingside environment in the same vicinity.  It had only taken me a few seconds to spot Julie.  Her computer-generated image looked like a human-sized red-tailed hawk, with her own face set among the feathers.  Hawks were fast but difficult forms for flying, and unusually beautiful.  Julie's priorities were pretty clear.  I had started to call out to her, knowing that the microphone in my helmet would automatically relay my voice to everyone "nearby."  But she had already found Bart, and I could see the date was over as far as I was concerned.  That was when I went over the cliff.

            Now I was nearing Angel's Run.  It's a three-dimensional maze of hoops, made of shimmering light, and it gleamed like sunlight reflecting off of soap bubbles.  Attached to each hoop was a number.  Hoop number One was a hundred feet off the ground, and a good thirty feet in diameter.  The last hoop, Twenty, is only four feet wide, and twelve feet off the ground.  You have to curl your wings around you to fit, and then pop them open instantly to avoid hitting the ground.  But I'd worry about that when I came to it.

            I spilled air and circled once to make way for another flier, in the relatively slow but agile body of a sparrow.  From what I could see of the face, it was a woman, but cyberclubs had already become notorious hangouts for practical jokers, strange characters, and people of unusual sexual preference.  It was much better to make person-to-person contact in the post-flight lounge, where you could tell what you were getting into.

            Whoever she was, the sparrow had skill.  I circled and watched as she went through the first part of the course flawlessly, turning and diving in midair to plunge through the center of each hoop in order.  But between hoops Eight and Nine she ran into trouble.  They're near to each other, high in the air, with the openings parallel to the ground.  You have to go nearly straight up through Eight, then nose over and dive through Nine.  She hit number Eight square in the center, but I could see that her angle was too shallow, and her speed too great.  She twisted in midair, flapping hard with both wings, and surprised me by going over in a backflip before straightening her dive and aiming for hoop Nine.  In fact, the backflip maneuver almost worked, but she had too much horizontal momentum to kill.  She hit the edge of the hoop, shouting a high pitched, "Damn it!", and disappeared in an explosion of feathers.  I was impressed.  I saw her rematerialize below me, back near the beginning of the course, still swearing in a clear soprano voice that the computer relayed to my helmet headphones.  But now it was my turn.

            I went through the first hoop at top speed.  Form is critical, but when you've practiced as much as I have, style becomes subordinate to speed.  My best time was a hair over fifty-one seconds.  If I take it slow I can practical­ly do the course with my eyes closed, but when I'm going for speed, I need all the help I can get.  This time, everything seemed to fall into place.  My anger at Julie, Bart, and (to be honest) myself melted away.  There was only room in my mind for flight, and the shimmering hoops flashing past me on all sides.

            I shot through the first section breathtakingly fast, slowing only before I entered hoop Eight.  My angle was perfect, and I nosed over straight through Nine, clearing the edges with plenty of room to spare.  I thought I heard a cheer from nearby as I did so, but I was too intent on the next hoop to pay attention.

            Each successive hoop was smaller, and presented a new challenge.  I went through Twelve backwards, then popped my wings open and flapped for all I was worth to climb to Thirteen.  By the time I shot through Eighteen I could tell it was a radically hot run.  I tried not to let my excitement break my concentration.  Nineteen was high off the ground, and I had to climb hard to make it.  Even as I cleared it, wings tucked close to fit, I was lining up on Twenty.  It was nearly sixty feet below, and I flapped a few times to build up some downward speed.  Besides being only four feet across, Twenty floated at an oblique angle.  I shot downward, trusting my intuition.  Now!  Grab air, straighten the dive, tuck, and through!  Spread, flap, and glide!  The ground rushed by my face, no more than inches away.  But I was through.  I pulled up, and levelled out into a fast glide, looking at the time clock superimposed on my field of view.  Just forty-seven point two one seconds, a new personal record.  In fact, it was only three seconds over the course record!  I did a quick victory roll, dived for the ground, and pulled up at the last second, making the double-clenched fist sign for immediate recall.  The landscape faded instantly away, and I pulled my helmet off, savoring the shock of disorientation as I found myself back in the flying booth.  My sweats were soaked from my short but violent flight, and I felt great.  I left the booth and headed into the locker room for a leisurely shower and change of clothes.

            I was on my way out through the post-flight lounge when I noticed a woman staring at me.  She was a petite redhead wearing a short green dress, and she was waving me over.  I was afraid it was some sort of mistake, but I was still so high from my new record that I walked over.

            "Excuse me," she said.  "Aren't you the one who..."

            "Oh Jim," a familiar voice interrupted.  I turned.  It was Julie, with Bart in tow.

            Julie was beaming.  "Jim, I just wanted to thank you for introducing me to Bart.  He's so interesting!  Did you know that he owns a Porsche?"

            "Why, uh...", I replied with characteristic wit, looking for a rejoinder.  I was saved by Bart, who seemed very intrigued with my new acquaintance.

            "Hey, haven't I seen you around before?" asked Bart.

            She fixed him with an icy stare.  Her eyes were green.  "Get lost, Groundhog," she said in a cool soprano voice.

            Bart shrugged, and allowed Julie, glaring alternately at the redhead and Bart, to drag him away.  I was speechless.  The redhead turned to me and smiled.

            "Weren't you the Falcon who just did that perfect flight through the Angel's Run?"

            "Er... yes," I nervously admitted.

            "You're fantastic!" she exclaimed.  "I was the Sparrow doing the course ahead of you!  I've never been able to hit hoop Nine like you did.  What's your secret?"

            "No secret," I said, relieved to be 'talking shop', and more than a little flattered.  "You almost had it yourself when you did that backflip.  Now that was a radical move!  I just watch my speed, and keep the entry angle steep.  It's frustrating to slow down there, but you can't rush it or you'll overshoot."

            She nodded and smiled.   I tried to think of what to say next, but I was transfixed by her smile, and my customary panic froze my vocal cords.

            She glanced down at her watch, and I figured the moment had ended.  Well, at least I had the consolation that Bart and Julie hadn't left on the best of terms.

            She looked up again.  "Listen, I'm really running late tonight.  But..."

            She hesitated, and I managed a quizzical look.

            "You probably get this all the time, but, I mean, would you be willing to meet me sometime, and teach me a little about your flying technique?  Maybe next week?  I'll understand if you don't want to bother..."

            Somehow, I was too surprised to be flustered.  "Well," I said, "I'm free from seven o'clock on, next Tuesday night."

            "Tuesday would be great!" she said, smiling even more broadly.  "My name is Andrea.  I'll meet you on the Other Side at seven."  She pursed her lips for a moment.  "I hope I can learn to have your kind of confidence.  See you then!"

            I watched her stride away, a little stunned by the course of events.  I had a feeling we were both going to learn a lot.

The Main House at Skywalker Ranch, circa 2000

I just learned of LucasArts’ shutdown.  It wasn’t unexpected - in fact I’d heard several rumors this week was when it was going to happen.  But it did surprise me how sad it made me all the same.  Very much like a death in the family.  LucasArts - and even more so, Lucasfilm Games - helped define and mold me as a game designer, and my eight years there were incredibly precious to me. 

I have so many strong memories and powerful feelings about my years there, I have to let some flow out.  I first heard about the group in 1983, long before their first games were released, when I talked to David Fox in the process of a friend’s interview, and he has remained a close friend and work collaborator to this day.  In fact the friends I made there were the strongest legacy - by the late 80’s/early 90’s we had what was surely one of the best few teams in the entire game industry.  I started just now to list them all but there were over 120 by the time I left, suffice it to say that although I’m mentioning some I worked with most closely here, there were many others equally talented and deserving of notice.  Just the ones I’ve continued to work with over the years - David Fox, but also Chip Morningstar, Ron Gilbert, Larry Holland, Hal Barwood, Dave Grossman, Tim Schafer, Brian Moriarty, and the hundred-plus others from my time there - we share so much in common culture and inspiration from those years.  Not to mention Steve Arnold, one of the best bosses I’ve ever had.  I helped hire many of the people subsequent to me - recall our laughing over Tim’s resume (as intended, Tim!) or marveling over Hal leaving a successful film career to make games.  Last year I was a founder in a (failed) startup, but getting to work with Chip Morningstar, Randy Farmer, and Gary Winnick again made it more than worthwhile.

Among all the great projects, it was the brainstorming sessions that were my favorite experiences.  I think I may be one of the very few people besides Ron who was clued into the original Secret of Monkey Island.  Coming to the Sonoma Mission Inn for a few days to brainstorm a million-player Star Wars game, many years before the first MMORPG.  Brainstorming on The Dig with a couple non-game developers named George and Steven.  Laughing harder at Monkey Island and DOTT sessions than I have at any comedy club. 

The physical locations were just as memorable.  When I started we shared space with ILM, and were part of the Computer Division with the guys that split off to become Pixar - I remember John Lasseter teaching us where to sit in the big Corte Madera theater we used for company screenings so that our viewing arc of the screen corresponded most closely to the angle the camera saw.  Coming in to see “Andre and Wally B.” emerging one slow scan line at a time for a Siggraph presentation.  Playing with discarded movie props behind ILM.  We moved to Skywalker Ranch shortly after it opened up, around 1986, and moved back out when we had grown too successful (and large) to fit.  What an incomparably beautiful location, so many great memories of swimming in the lake, walking the hills.  Seeing screenings in the Stag Theater or the one in the basement of the Main House, whose walls smelled faintly of the wine casks they were made from for the first few years.  Researching Fate of Atlantis in the library with Hal, with rain pattering on the stained-glass roof.  Incredible lunches.  Movie stars and music icons that we all carefully pretended were just anonymous strangers.  Michael Jackson, in his Thriller glory, at our 4th of July party, wearing a hospital facemask.  Steve Purcell teaching himself, then us, to snap the heads off of flowers with his authentic Indy bullwhip.  Chasing down a lizard with a video-feed from a remote-controlled car we drove from a remodeled arcade cabinet (lots of projects that never made it out of our offices…).  Helping man the telescope in the observatory built into the hills over our location.  Dodging deer and bobcat on the way in and out.

And the people outside the video games industry I met or worked with - the Pixar guys, including Ed Catmull who interviewed me in 1983, George Lucas of course, and Steven Spielberg who would call in for hints on our adventure games (he got the direct dials of all the project leaders).  Recommending Eric Goldberg and Greg Costikyan to do the Star Wars RPG, starting another long term friendship.  Seeing some of the first VR tech from Jaron Lanier, whispers of nanotechnology from Eric Drexler, and other marvels through Chip’s friends he brought in for “Mad Scientist Lectures”.  Even WW2 Aces we interviewed for our flight simulator games.

I did some consulting for LucasArts a few years ago, right before and after their move to the Presidio.  A whole new generation of developers, just as eager and determined to excel.  But there was a wistfulness felt by us old-timers, nothing subsequent to that golden age of the early days quite measured up to the mystique, despite greater financial success and sales numbers.  I was looking forward to 1313, it sounded like a great step to reclaim some of the reputation for ground-breaking innovation that had largely faded, but alas…

I realize I’ve barely talked about the games we made, and only scratched the surface of the other stuff - I could go on for a long time, and perhaps I will someday in a book, I have boxes of memorabilia to trigger memories, including a bunch of never-worn T-shirts that perhaps will pay for my retirement J.  But I wanted to thank my many friends and colleagues from those years and all the subsequent employees for one great ride.  And for those of you who have been rudely dumped back into the job market - know that the industry is healthier now than it has ever been, and there is in fact a great life after LucasArts.  My deep sympathy and best wishes to you all!

In August I spoke at a workshop at the White House (well, technically the Eisenhower Executive Office Building next door to the West Wing) with some fellow game developers, a group of neuroscientists and cognitive psychologists, and some government agency representatives.  Its official title was “Enhancing Well-being and Attentional Control through Games and Interactive Media:  A Neuroscientific Approach”, but ranged over many related topics.  The conference was organized as a workshop through a series of short presentations, usually by one game developer and one scientist/researcher, followed by a larger panel discussion, with further discussion between sessions.

The building we met in was pretty spectacular, both on the outside:

And in the Indian Treaty Room where we met, a two-story space with gorgeous detailing from the ceiling to the floor.  Eisenhower did the first televised press conference from this room and I learned that Jackie Kennedy had saved it from being torn down.  The sense of excitement of being in the building reminded me a lot of working at Skywalker Ranch - with a tad more security - and the Main House DOES resemble the White House, particularly in the exterior columns and inner detailing.

The workshop was officially organized by Daphne Bavelier, PhD; University of Rochester, Laird Malamed; USC, and Constance Steinkuehler Squire, PhD; Senior Policy Analyst, White House OSTP.  I met Constance at the first Games for Health conference many years ago and it has been great to have an advocate in the White House who understands and appreciates games.

Daphne Bavelier spoke of some of her research which has shown long-lasting improvements in the perceptual ability of game players, as well as improving their reaction time without lowering their accuracy in a variety of tasks. I was delighted to find a kindred spirit as I talked with Daphne about how game developers think about brain development, and I’ll be addressing her students in Geneva, Switzerland next month (October 2012)

Our room looked out at the White House from just next door - that’s the main building in the center, with the West Wing so near you could practically hear the Aaron Sorkin dialog.

The attendees of the workshop were a diverse and fascinating group.  I’ve always been very interested in brain research, so it was very exhilarating for me to hear from speakers like Dr. Richard Davidson who has worked with the Dalai Lama and showed results of brain scans of meditating monks, and is in the process of designing and testing games that can train people in mindfulness practice.  With all the local interest in meditation and mindfulness in Northern California (and from my own wife for that matter) I loved seeing a unifying thread between that, brain research, and games.

My own presentation was given in conjunction with Paul Schrater, PhD, University of Minnesota.  Paul talked about intrinsic and extrinsic motivation, and how some mice would preferentially explore a maze instead of just going directly for food.  I discussed my own Natural Funativity concept and how that, Stealth Learning, and Flow all combine to explain why people like to play games, and how that may help us make games that are both more effective in a serious purpose, and more fun as pure entertainment.

It saw many game industry friends there - Nick Fortugno, Frank Lantz, and my old boss at Lucasfilm Games, Steve Arnold (now with Polaris Venture Partners), among others.  Mike Ambinder, a psychologist at Valve talked about how they’re using Portal 2 to enable teachers to teach physics concepts and may use Steam for assessments of learning in the future.

Dr. Adam Gazzaley whom I mentioned in my previous blog entry spoke about his research.  Adam will shortly be unveiling some promising figures showing how games may actually help mitigate against some of the effects of loss of attention in the aging brain.  I think this might be relevant to me but I can’t remember why.

A lot of government agencies were represented, including Health and Human Services, NIMH, White House Office of Science and Technology Policy, DARPA, NIH, NIA, and the NSF.  

After the first day of the workshop we had a private tour of this Smithsonian American Art museum exhibit:

I’d been interviewed for this exhibit along with dozens of other game industry pros, it was surreal for me seeing a video compilation of excerpts since fully 80% of them were friends and acquaintances and a Smithsonian museum seemed an incongruous place to find them.  For instance when I met this guy nearly 30 years ago I knew he had potential, but he exceeded my expectations.

Actually getting to play the original Secret of Monkey Island in the next room was also a kick, I only regret that my parents didn’t live to see the day when their son’s work was exhibited there.  I’m glad the museum staff didn’t select the part with some of the cruder insults though, that might have been a bit embarrassing.  The games industry in its youth may have had a few rough edges, but it is very gratifying to see that we’re now being taken seriously both in the context of the Smithsonian and the White House.

Any game developer sooner or later has the experience of mentioning what they do to an acquaintance or relative, and is treated to a diatribe about video games as the cause of everything from teen violence to increased isolation and mental aberration.  There are studies of dubious validity that they may cite, if they even bother to go beyond the “everyone knows that” premise.  But what is the reality, and is there a way to both counter these claims, and perhaps harness the power of brain imaging to make games that are more effective in their intended aim, be that health, learning, or simply fun?

Happily, the truth is that there are many games that are having strong positive effects on people’s mental health, documented by neuroscientists with a lot more credibility than your average radio or TV commentator.  The initial overlap between these scientists and game developers is in the Games for Health field, but that’s an artifact of the relative novelty of the collaboration.  Just look at the trickle of scientific research starting to be published that goes beyond conjecture into actual brain scans of individuals playing games and you will see all sorts of applications to game play.  It’s clear that an alliance between neuroscientists and game developers is increasingly helping both parties, and the eventual result will be games that rely on what will become a flood of data about what happens in the brain of a gamer during play.  In the hope of inspiring other designers to experiment with this emerging field and find inspiration, and to provide some concrete examples of games clearly benefiting players, I offer this brief survey based on my own direct experience.

This article was written 15 years ago, and I'm happy to see it holds up pretty well - teams have gotten considerably larger, but that's all the more reason to need to consider what goes into a good collaboration.  It's a good sign that David Fox and I (and our families) have remained good friends for 30 years now.

Collaborating in Game Design


Conference Proceedings for the 1997 CGDC

by Noah Falstein & David Fox

Webster’s New World Dictionary:

col-lab-o-rate 1. To work together, especially in some literary,

artistic, or scientific undertaking.  2. To cooperate with the enemy.

Back in the early days of the computer game industry, it was not uncommon for the entire development team to consist of only a couple of people.  As games grow in size and complexity, tasks are now divided amongst 30-40 people.  It is not unusual to have several designers working together on a game.  New skills are required to make these collaborations work, especially when those involved have strong personalities.

The best projects we’ve worked on were those in which we collaborated with other people.  The worst, most disaster-filled projects were also those in which we collaborated with others.  When collaborations work, they can create a wonderful synergy in which everyone creates something much better than could be created by the individuals working alone.  When they don’t work, you may find yourself stuck inside a nightmare...  We’re going to examine some of the ways that collaborations can fail and suggest ways to increase the likelihood of success, and point out which signs may tell you when it’s time to say “no” or to run!

Due to a series of unfortunate events - I mostly blame Microsoft's Front Page software - my web site has been gradually sliding into decrepitude, first with most of the text appearing white-on-white in every web browser except Internet Explorer, and finally IE as well.  And I couldn't update it.  This dark (well, actually the opposite of dark) time has finally passed, and the version of my site you are viewing now is active, after development on a side domain.  It's my intention to do regular blog updates and add many new (and updates of old) articles to the site.  I want to thank my colleague Chip Morningstar in particular for helping me navigate the dangerous shoals of DNS to make this happen.

Become a game designer, see the world!  Well, not exactly - but I've had a lot of great travel for my consulting and speaking gigs.  One of my all-time favorite events is the Game Connection Masterclasses in Paris every June.  I've been teaching on design here for the last two years and will return this year to speak on Mobile and Social Games.  I am not well known for this topic, but like many of my fellow long-term game designers, I've dived into it with enthusiasm over the last few years, co-designing a Facebook game and working now as a co-founder of a startup that is in the midst of some groundbreaking (and currently still secret) work.  But it goes back to the roots of social gaming, with a pioneering milestone had the privilege of being part of from the beginning.

By June when I will be teaching this one-day class I expect to be able to show a bit more of what our new venture is up to, and will definitely be sharing some of the insights I've had and lessons learned from working in the current renaissance of this exciting area of game development.  Pierre Carde and Sophie Romano have put together another great set of speakers for this upcoming class, and it's held the week after the annual Fête de la Musique event as well as the Paris Game AI conference.  Great time to come to the City of Lights.

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