As I both create and consume art it’s often striking just how much successions of considered changes and details, mountains of very specific decisions, leave only the vaguest impressions in the mind of the audience. I’m probably a more detail oriented audience than most, but even for me I think the majority of the lasting impressions I take away from a work have more to do with the general tone it sets, and emotional state it invokes, than with any specific content.

However, even if what we remember is mostly vague fragments of tone and atmosphere, if the artist focuses on tone to the exception of content and structure then that tone isn’t conveyed: What people remember then is just the maudlin piece of mediocrity a work without structure or detail inevitably devolves towards. What people take away from an experience is vague, the seeds of nostalgia, but what plants those seeds is often intensely structured and specific.

It’s strange and kind of disappointing the way all the details in a work become ‘it was detailed’ in the aftermath, all the research boils down to ‘well-researched’, all the jokes to ‘funny’ and all the tragedies to ‘sad’. Every work of art gets chewed up and swallowed and digested, and it’s sometimes painful for the artist to see that happen, to witness the process of destruction and digestion that is experiencing art. It’s hard not to feel like our beautiful work is being unmade, unappreciated, turned to shapeless and incoherent mush, by the very process of its consumption.

When you eat a steak, though, even as you chew it up it still matters that it was once whole. The fibers and greases, composed in this particular way, create a specific experience – and, even if what you remember is merely ‘delicious’, something else is encoded in that experience as well. As you live your life and eat different meals, the details that go into them start to cohere, beyond the specifics of a single meal, into a generalized understanding of what food is and can be, and what that means to you. To create food, to create anything, is to resign yourself to the eventual act of consumption and digestion – and to believe that, as the experience you worked so hard on fades away, everything you put into it still will be worthwhile, even if it is now only a memory.

Each new work of art, each novel or game, may not leave its specific thumbprint on each person who consumes it – they may not remember every detail, or even the general plot or structure – but the details, the craftsmanship, those still matter. When we digest each new work it subtly modifies our ideas of what art is and can be, and through that what the world is – or can be. We can nourish with beauty and provide nutrition with new ideas – and, even if we know no idea is ever truly transmitted completely, can still revel that the seeds we plant may one day bring forth surprising fruit.


I’m doing a terrible job of sticking to the schedule I came up with. I keep getting sidetracked by new tasks, improvements or things I forgot to put on the schedule. This last month, I finally got around to looking up what sorts of multi-threading solutions are available in Haxe/AIR. It turns out that Adobe AIR has supported multi-threading for a while now, with an implementation that is both very straightforward and kind of frustrating. AIR’s version of multi-threading is: Load another AIR program into your running program, and pass values back and forth. Simple enough in concept, but it still has all the traditional concerns of multi-threading with sharing resources and managing access.

So, much of this past month has been taken up with trying to get my particle system, the most demanding discrete subsystem of EverEnding, running in a separate thread. It took a lot of thought and experimentation to figure out a way to restructure a system which had presumed open access to a shared memory pool and make it run remotely with operations mediated by a single point of communication. After a week or two I got it running, but… not especially well. The benefit of the new system is a bump from 45fps to 50fps, which is not as dramatic or life-changing as I’d hoped — plus, for some reason, there are spikes of 30-50ms, which make the overall effect still somewhat disjointed and unpleasant. Still, I think these problems will be fixable, though it may be tricky to figure out exactly how they’re manifesting.

Aside from that I’ve mostly been working on building out the last section of the first area, the caves. I think I’m finally starting to nail down a paradigm of tile design for this game, based around the idea of areas which are lit, areas which are dark, and areas which are somewhere in between. Lit areas are mostly on the upper right and dark areas mostly on the lower left, with various transitional tiles to make them flow smoothly from one to the next. The cave tileset is starting to come together, though certain tiles still need some work. The background could use some improvement as well.


Also, looking back through my daily devblog notes, apparently I worked on collision in February as well. Strange, it feels like much more than a ago now. Well, most of the collision improvements are in place and working, but in the process some things broke, so those will need to be re-fixed. It’s basically guaranteed that any time I work on collision code I’ll end up frustrated.

So what’s next? I’ll probably focus on developing the level architecture and tilesets until I’m completely done with the caves, then go back and focus on populating this first area with enemies and details. Along the way somewhere I’ll spend a few days fixing all the things I broke getting the new particle system implemented and see if I can fix weird glitches there, as well as maybe a bit more collision work (sigh).


We are all artists, with our masterpiece being ourselves. Every gesture, every word, is a work of performance, crafted through habit, from the day we are born. We shape ourselves based on audience polling: It’s not quite an applause meter, but we’re a social species and we tend to fairly quickly get a sense for how other people react to the things we say and do. We calibrate, adjust, we become, without ever explicitly thinking about it.

This might sound dismissive. Perhaps it sounds like I am accusing all humanity of being terribly superficial – but these performances go deeper than the skin. Who we believe ourselves to be is, in large part, who we are – or very soon becomes so. That’s one of the ways that brainwashing works: If you can convince someone to perform compliance, it’s often only a matter of time before they become compliant.

Our identities are malleable. This is a strength and a weakness. The art of self-improvement is thus the art of self-persuasion. They say that confidence is attractive – in much the same way that playing wrong notes on the piano confidently sounds more like music than playing correct notes hesitantly, physical beauty is just as much skill as it is shape. Sit just so, keep your chin at this angle, make sure the eye meets you in just such a way, smile just enough but not too much – each tiny aspect of posture and motion calibrated to present oneself in a particular way.

Of course performing physical attractiveness is just one option. We shut ourselves off, open ourselves up, play smart and play dumb, fill ourselves with passion or hold our hearts in reserve. We keep wardrobes of personae and choose whichever one suits the occasion. Masks crafted from habits and nervous tics, personality profiles written in muscle memory rather than words. We call it body language, and maybe there’s more to that phrase than we usually think about. Language isn’t just a means of communicating with others, but also shapes the way we see and engage with the world.

These identities sometimes become prisons. Our histories constrain us. Once you declare you love or hate something, you feel a pressure to live up to your love or hate, an obligation to feel the way you said you feel. How valuable it is, then, to have a way to become someone else, to take on the habits and beliefs of another, even for a short time. How precious it is, then, to have art, to have the simulation of the mile walked in another’s shoes: To feel, for a brief moment, what it is to be other than what you are, to believe in other than what you believe, to be unbound by your history, and to feel the gentle breeze of something unknown, and more deeply a part of you than the self you perceive, urging you towards a new way of being.


A work of art is both a single object and a collection of individual choices – sentences in a novel, assets in a game, instrumental parts in a piece of music, each of these is added and shaped with intent to achieve the overall goal of the piece. This is pretty self-evident, but often is not explicitly thought about by the creator during the creation. In some ways, it’s better not to think about it – for reasons I’ll get into in a moment.

You have the theme or message or whatever of the work: Sometimes you know exactly what this is, sometimes you have to hone in on it carefully in the process of working on the piece. With each new stroke you add to the composition, you can choose to support this theme, to add to its message by echoing it; you can contrast with this theme, to push against it and by so doing ground and emphasize it; or to layer new elements onto the theme, add details that seem completely disconnected but add complexity.

Say you have a picture of a gigantic statue: To support how gigantic this statue is, you could add comparatively tiny human figure to show how it dwarfs the scale of humanity; to contrast, you could add a field of stars behind it or pull the viewpoint back, to show how even the greatest creations of humanity are minuscule in the greater scale of the universe; or you could add something different, a mural or a small scene between characters or some strange creature, to show that the story of this statue and the world it lives in is more complex than we might at first imagine.

Naive artists will, given the choice, always pick the first of these. I have been this kind of naive, and still often discover this kind of naivete in myself. It makes sense: I’m an artist, I know the impression I want to create, I should use everything I have in my toolbox to create the feeling I’m going for. And yet, most of the time, this kind of approach leads to something which feels flat, manipulative, and obvious. All bombast, all sorrow, all silliness, with no leavening by contrasting or diverging emotion, will inevitably feel flat and numbing.

This is why I said it’s probably better that most artists don’t think explicitly about their high-level intent and how to achieve it most of the time: The mindset of trying to achieve a specific emotional impact is difficult to separate from the mindset of how to most effectively bolster that tone in each particular instance. Much better to take freely from the chaos of the mind, to harness opportunities to create threads that flow alongside, flow against, or flow perpendicular to the main thread of the narrative as they occur to us.

However, for those of us who have a hard time not thinking about intent, have a hard time getting out of our heads and have a hard time not hammering the same points home with each individual component of a work, it might be worth it to keep these three thoughts in mind: Support, Contrast, Layer.

A tapestry is not woven out of only threads in parallel.

Freedom of speech has limits. Some people probably will get angry just at reading those words, but they’re also completely self-evident: Ordering the murder of another person is illegal; Spreading harmful rumors is illegal; giving false testimony in court is illegal. However, concurrent with knowing these limits exist, people still feel very comfortable declaring that there aren’t and should never be any limits on what a person can say to another person or group.

Somewhere along the line a belief grew on the ideals of open discourse like a fungus: This belief simultaneously declares that speech can topple emperors and that speech is harmless. The pen is mightier than the sword, yet if you are skewered by one you should be able to ignore it and walk it off, that harassment and criticism are both the same kind of air and can both be breathed as easily as one another. We say that “Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me” and elide that the sticks and stones are often directly instigated by the words – saying, simultaneously, that all speech is precious and that all violence is abhorrent – you might as well say that you love guns but hate bullets.

The question is, then, not of whether we should limit freedom of speech, but of whether the limits we have in place now effectively prevent harm while allowing a free society with a healthy economy of ideas – and whether those in charge of enforcing those limits are doing so effectively and judiciously. What forms of harm must we prevent people causing with words? What forms will we permit? What kinds of speech are so sacred that they must not be abridged under any circumstances?

Right now we see a lot of people defending the rights of bigots to do public bigotting without interference on grounds of free speech. Most bigoted speech eventually boils down to an incitement to violence with plausible deniability; nowadays even the fig leaf of not actively advocating genocide has started to fall away. Which raises the question: Why, if telling one person to do violence to another person is illegal, is telling a group of people to do violence to another group of people legal?

“Are you offended?” They like to ask. I’ve grown to dislike the word ‘offended’. It means nothing, it reduces every instance of cruel hate speech and harassment to hurt feelings. I’m not ‘offended’ so much as that I understand that every careless slur slightly increases the chances of someone being beaten, someone being raped or murdered, because it contributes to a narrative where their life has less worth, where they are intrinsically stupid or violent or deceptive. Individually, these words dissolve and become nothing, but in aggregate, spoken by millions of citizens, they create an environment of acceptable cruelty and justified victims.

We love it though. We love to defend the freedom of speech of white supremacists and Nazis. There are two interpretations of this that occur to me: The optimistic view would be that Nazism is viewed as the most extreme and egregious ideology possible, therefore if one is willing to stand up for Nazis then one therefore should logically be willing to stand up for any form of speech. Of course, most of the people who stand up for Nazism generally don’t actually bother to stand up for other forms of political ideology, perhaps more personally inconvenient and likely to actually be targeted by government censors and police rather than civilian censures and shaming.

The pessimistic view is just that white supremacy and Nazism is actually super popular. There is a not-insignificant weight of supporting evidence for this hypothesis at this point.

The limits of what is and isn’t ‘speech’ also get pretty tricky. The courts have deemed fit to decide that giving money is a form of free speech – when you give it to a politician. Funny how that works out. Certainly the choice of what to wear is an aspect of freedom of speech – but is choosing to wear a white robe just speech or is it providing an alibi for your comrades to murder?

I have two points here. One, when someone argues that hate speech shouldn’t be legal, that is not a stance fundamentally opposed to freedom of speech as we understand it, rather just one of many necessary attempts to clarify where the boundaries we’ve already drawn lie. In other words: What forms of speech are so intrinsically harmful that exercising them predictably and willfully reduces your fellow citizens’ freedoms?

Two, given that we understand that speech can do real harm and can transgress boundaries that one would expect to be enforced by law, what are we supposed to do if the law does nothing? Vigilantism is not admirable, but if the law will not help under circumstances of life-threatening danger – if words will summon the sticks and stones to break my bones, I am comfortable with fighting against those words by any means possible. Your rights end where another’s rights begin, and if by exercising your freedom you would deprive them of theirs, it becomes a matter of self-defense.

These boundaries will never be clear – but they may never be clearer than they are right now.


Right around the time I was writing last week’s post I felt a suspicious itch in my nose that meant I was maybe getting sick. Then I got sick. I was pleased at how accurate my nasal observations had been, but overall I would have been fine with being wrong.

We can skip over the next few days. They were mostly very tedious and tiring. Afterwards, though, there were a couple of days where my sense of smell was recovered and I could think properly, but my sinuses were still packed with residual mucus, so 80% of what I smelled at each moment was the rancid remnants of the cold. Things which were once delicious stopped tasting good: Coffee became flavorless and bitter, and when I ate grilled vegetables I could only taste the grill. This was interesting, because other than that I felt fine. If I hadn’t recently been sick and didn’t understand this to be an effect of that cause, I would just think this was what these things tasted like. If my head just always smelled of disease, everything except for the simplest sweetest foods would seem unappealing.

It’s always so strange when the physical world affects the things we think of as being entirely psychological and intrinsic to our identity. We argue about matters of taste, justify why the things we like are good and the things we dislike are bad, without even considering whether we’re discussing the same thing, without accounting for how the tastes we cherish are shaped by our personal topography.

Games, and particularly computer games, externalize this issue. Every player’s experience of the game is mediated through their own gaming setup, so a transcendental experience for one player can be a framey mess for one who has different video card drivers. Then, another layer down, a fun-filled romp for one player may be a humiliating frustration for a player coping with disability. And now, as I reflect on it, another layer down, a game that tells a story of great import and meaning to one player may just be retelling the same boring demeaning claptrap another player has had to wade through for their entire life. If you go down enough layers, these external factors stop being external, start being part of who we fundamentally are, the shape of our skull, the networks of our neurons, the smell of our snot. It becomes impossible to separate the things which color our experience from the experience itself.

When I see so many people who seem to care nothing for art, who seem to care nothing for anything at all, who seem to exist only to take and accumulate and crave, I have to wonder how they are calibrated. Can they see at all what I see, feel at all what I feel? Maybe what makes them so hungry is they never learned to taste the things that they really needed to survive, so they just consume, like I kept drinking coffee that tasted like ashes, in the hopes that later it might help me to wake up.


It’s been kind of a strange month for the project. I’ve made next to no progress on the task list I’ve created for the game, but I’m still largely satisfied with the work I’ve done. That is to say, I’ve been putting a lot of time in on things that it hadn’t previously occurred to me I would need, so I can’t really cross anything off a list when I get it done, but nevertheless the tasks I’ve done needed doing.

So, what are these tasks?

  • Created a system to modify hue/saturation/brightness of animations, and implemented controls for this into existing particle systems and associated editors, as well as creating a similar system for modifying tileset colors
  • Fixed up the detail editor to make it more flexible and easy to use, including the ability to modify multiple details at once
  • Created a seeded random number generator so particle systems that use random numbers will generate consistently from one play to the next
  • Created a simple collision system for particles, which can be used to make them only spawn on top of tiles or perform special behaviors when they collide with tiles
  • Added the ability to have particle behaviors that only trigger once on spawn rather than updating continuously
  • Collision improvements and implementation of water tiles and combination platform/slope tiles
  • Fixed the way perspective is calculated on details to center the vanishing point rather than have it locked to the upper left
  • Stripped out a non-functional zoom in/out system in favor of a much simpler one that actually works

With all these color controls I have a lot more ability to customize areas without creating all-new assets

On top of that I’ve been building levels out, which is on the list but also takes a long time to make progress on. It’s really difficult to say much about the process of building levels, because 90% of it is just spent on making sure tile boundaries line up and making tiny aesthetic tweaks. In that way it’s a lot like working on the animations after I created prototype animations: All of the concept is mostly there, I just need to elevate it to finished quality.

I’m getting close to the end of my ad-hoc list of unexpected and unscheduled problems/improvements, so I ought to be getting back to the game schedule soon. Worst case scenario is I’m a month behind of where I wanted to be: Best case scenario is that I end up making up the time I lost by leveraging some of the improvements I’ve made. We’ll see. In any case, I’m probably going to be spending the coming month or two getting early-game enemies fully animated and operational. The first couple of enemies will be the most difficult by far, I believe – after those are complete I should be able to copy and paste from them for almost everything I’ll ever need an enemy to do.