Showing posts with label JAM. Show all posts
Showing posts with label JAM. Show all posts

Wednesday, 7 May 2014

From Ludum Dare to Molyjam, how game jams became part of game development



                    Game jams have captured the imagination of an industry. Hardly a weekend passes without one somewhere in the world. Every Friday evening, a quick scroll of Twitter reveals groups of developers hunkering around a chatroom or hashtag and preparing to spend the next 48 hours working on their outlandish game ideas. Many are organised between groups of friends, while others have become global events drawing the attention of tens of thousands of participants.
               
                  It’s not just the indies: game jams are also starting to creep into studios, with developers such as Double Fine and Ubisoft incorporating them into their work schedules. But just what is it that is so alluring about game jams? Are they a magic bullet of innovation? Or is this just crunching taken to its inevitable conclusion?
One of the 30-odd developers who took part in 2002’s inaugural Ludum Dare 0 was Mike Kasprzak, who today is one of the competition’s head organisers. “Geoff [Howland, founder] didn’t really have the time to keep running the event,” he explains. “But all of us who participated craved this. We were really excited [and] really enthusiastic about Ludum Dare, so we literally took it over for him.”
             Kasprzak and a ragtag group of developers knew that Ludum Dare had tapped into something special, and they did whatever they could to make sure it continued to run. “It kind of floundered for a while before we got our act together,” he explains, but that all changed after Phil Hassey’s creation for Ludum Dare 8,
            Galcon, became a critical success. Kasprzak recounts how Hassey was instrumental in finally getting the Ludum Dare competition a proper home on the web. “Phil was like, ‘Dude, I want to do this. I want this to keep going, because this is important.’”
Now, after 11 years and 26 events, Ludum Dare is perhaps the best-known game jam in the world. “Today it is super big and huge – thousands of games per event. It’s madness. The idea of Ludum Dare, to just make a game in such a short period of time, just resonated with people and created something else. It snowballed until we were able to make this happen all the time.“
Midas was created for Ludum Dare 22 by Harry Lee and Jarrel Seah.

            Ludum Dare isn’t alone in its success – thousands of games are produced at such events each year. One of the biggest is the Global Game Jam. Founded in 2008, the 2013 event attracted 16,705 developers from 63 countries, who produced a grand total of 3,248 games.
          But why have game jams become so popular? What do they offer game
developers? “The thing that stops a lot of people making games is expectations about levels of polish, about a certain level of quality,” explains developer Anna Anthropy. “If you only have hours, you don’t give a shit about any of that. You just have to keep making it if you want to get it done. So in that way I think it helps a lot of people get over their insecurities about making shit. They just make it.”
                
         Kasprzak also highlights the way that game jams offer a safe space for developers to create something that isn’t finely honed. “You don’t have time to create the perfect system. You’re running out of time every minute. It forces you to just sit down and do what you can quickly, which is a really good mindset to get into.”
          Independent designer Harry Lee is a prolific jammer. At 2011’s Ludum Dare 22, his team’s game, Midas, won four medals. For Lee, one of the strengths of game jams is that they motivate developers to actually finish a project. “That helps a lot of people, since they fall into a trap of not ever finishing a thing, or even starting a thing, so that works really well.”
         Lee also highlights the way jams work to help developers hone their craft, teaching them about their voice and how to set the scope of projects. “I have dozens of game prototypes that I’ve produced from jams, and I think that body of work is necessary for finding a style that suits you. Jams are about volume, about making a volume of work to hone your skillset and craft.”
Bossa Studios’ Surgeon Simulator 2013 emerged from this year’s Global Game Jam.

         Game jams give developers a reason to start a game, the obligation to finish, and the safety net to fail. But perhaps most importantly, they surround participants with others who are doing the same.
         
        “I really like the energy of being in the physical room with the people,” says Anthropy. “You just shout out ideas at each other, and if I need sound effects I can just pull someone over and have them talk into my game. Yeah, the energy is real good when you do it in the same physical space.”
         But even for game jams held primarily over the Internet, such as Ludum Dare, that sense of community is a driving force. “By [Ludum Dare] existing, it gives people enough extra inspiration to make that step, that extra push to sit down and do something, because you are participating in this event,” says Kasprzak. “I’m not just doing this myself. We’re all doing it together, and that’s inspirational.”
       The traditional game jam model sees teams given a theme – typically a word or phrase – from which they’ll spend the next 48 hours prototyping an appropriate game, often at the expense of sleep and personal hygiene.
         
           Lee, despite his own enthusiasm for jams, is concerned about just how passionately and uncritically this one model has been embraced by developers. “I think [game jams] serve a very important purpose, but I think it is a very specific purpose, and I think sometimes they are extended beyond their use. Every game jam, the way it is set up and the format it has, will directly lead to the kinds of games that come out of it.”
        The concern is that only participating in a certain kind of jam means you can only make a certain kind of game. “When new people go into a jam, they are learning all these fundamental and important ideas about what games are, but that can also be really normative if they aren’t coming from an experimental angle,” says Lee.
Bossa Studios’ Surgeon Simulator 2013 emerged from this year’s Global Game Jam.
      Fortunately, then, the last 12 months have seen a proliferation of jams that break away from the traditional model. Jams such as Molyjam, The 7 Day FPS Challenge, and Fuck This Jam all constructively deviate from the norm. “I think it is great that the structure and definition of a game jam is crumbling and diversifying,” says Lee. “We need to see different kinds of jams.”
      When Anna Kipnis, senior gameplay programmer at Double Fine, casually tweeted that there should be a game jam to bring to life the outlandish ideas of Twitter parody account @PeterMolydeux, she sowed the seeds for Molyjam, one of 2012’s most popular and unusual jams.
       While Molyjam still followed the traditional model insofar as teams had 48 hours to make their game, the nature of it meant participants knew the theme well in advance. For Kipnis, this was one of the jam’s major strengths: “I’ve always wanted to be in a public jam, but [not knowing the theme until you show up] was always really intimidating, in that often I would find out the theme was just one word like ‘extinction’ or something. It’s only enough to tip you in the right direction, but not enough to really push you towards something… So I thought, ‘Hey, I would totally be a part of [Molyjam], because even if I get stuck, I can just pick another idea.’”
   Even further departures from the traditional jam model are The 7 Day FPS challenge (organised by Vlambeer’s Jan Willem Nijman alongside Sos Sosowski and Sven Bergström) and Fuck This Jam (organised by Vlambeer’s other half, Rami Ismail, alongside Fernando Ramallo). While traditional game jams might tempt developers to rely on normative ideas as a crutch, both 7DFPS and Fuck This Jam, much like Molyjam, force their participants to think beyond their usual boundaries.
      
        Nijman had the idea for 7DFPS after he spent time working on Vlambeer’s own Gun Godz. “A lot of indies have this preconception of firstperson shooters being dumb, triple-A shit,” he says. “Getting indies to start making things in that genre gave it more new ideas than the last ten years of big budgets did.”

Tuesday, 22 April 2014

How 'Game Jam,' an indie game dev reality show, collapsed on its first day of filming

Game_Jam, a TV-style reality show focused on the efforts of indie game developers, has collapsed in the most publicly acrimonious way imaginable, participants say.
Touted by its makers as a contest to show off the skills and personalities of indie game developers, the Mountain Dew-sponsored production was brought to a halt after just one day's filming, as participants walked off the set, en masse. In a story first reported by Indie Statik, developers accuse the show's makers of grossly misunderstanding the nature of game developers, of attempting to manipulate them for ratings and of crass sexism.
Respected developers like Zoe Quinn (Depression Quest), Davey Wreden (The Stanley Parable), Robin Arnott (SoundSelf) and Adriel Wallick (Candescent) all quit the show along with all other contestants, after what they say were intolerable creative differences with the production crew. The last straw, participants say, was the involvement of a producer called Matti Leshem who insisted on following a line of questioning to the developers about the value of having female developers on the team.
At one point Leshem, who runs a company called Protagonist and represented the interests of sponsor Mountain Dew, reportedly asked Wallick, "Do you think you're at an advantage because you have a pretty lady on your team?" Leshem, they add, displayed an excessive zeal for his bosses at Mountain Dew, insisting that contestants at the show be seen only drinking that beverage.
ArnottWallick and Quinn have all posted blog entries about the experience. Jared Rosen, a journalist who has worked under contract for the show's producers and was present , also wrote an extensive and scathing report on the debacle for Indie Statik.
Originally envisioned as a showcase of indie development talent, the show devolved into a reality-style contest, participants said, in which teams were asked to perform various tasks, only loosely connected with game development, for trifling prizes (such as a set of Mountain Dew lawn chairs). Overall prizes were equally derisory, including a trip to a Mountain Dew ski event and a lifetime supply of the drink, as well as a vaguely worded promise of a contract to join the ID@Xbox indie development program.
                            Even prior to filming, the project was dogged by contractual wrangling, as Polaris and its parent Maker (recently bought by Disney) reportedly sought to insist on clauses that irked participants. These included an attempt to control how the developers communicated during and after filming, as well as onerous follow-up obligations, such as attending anniversary shows. We've contacted Maker and Polaris representatives for comment.
 "We all understand it was first a show and second a game jam," Arnott told Polygon. "Our bullshit meters were hanging out at about 15 to 20 percent already going in, but that seemed worth it in order to demonstrate something magical to the public. We knew there would be challenges that would be basically bullshit, but as long as we were working with our friends and showcasing what is magical about our community we were fine."
  By challenges, Arnott here is talking about reality show-style competitions, like creating a YouTube video about their project, or making a presentation about their game using non-digital means.

"Our whole interaction with anybody before the jam went down was nothing but respectful and excited," he added. But the tone of the show, and its alien insistence on confrontational entertainment, soon rubbed the developers up the wrong way.
"They thought they would be able to get a bunch of developers together and put them in a weird situation and turn them against each other," added Wallick. "That is so against the indie culture. It is mind-blowing they didn't see this coming and they thought it was a good idea. We all help each other out. There are interpersonal connections and people argue, but they were so off the mark by what they thought they were going to get out of us. As soon as they tried to pit us against each other they realized, no, this is not going to work."
Wallick said Leshem asked her team if felt they had an advantage because they had an attractive woman on their side. Arnott spoke up, saying they had an advantage because Wallick is a good programmer.
"At this point he's really riled me up," said Wallick. "He's insulted me and everything I hold dear about myself. It crushed my soul in a way. My face was red and insulted. It was awful."
Then, to all-male teams, Leshem reportedly asked if they thought they had an advantage over teams with women on them.
Both lines of questioning caused fury among the contestants, and led to the walk-out.
Wallick and Quinn were the first to say they were leaving, soon followed by the other developers. Leshem was removed from the project, but various attempts by the producers to get the show back on track came to nothing.
"We were all exhausted and stressed out and had nothing to tap into," said Quinn in an interview with Polygon. "If we did try again in that moment, I can't speak for the others, but I know I wouldn't be doing my best work. I wouldn't be showing anything to the world that I'd want to show, and I didn't see a point in it. Plus I couldn't support something that Leshem touched, or was allowed to touch."
The various blog posts all state that Leshem's offensive line of questioning was indicative of a project that had gone badly awry. Attempts by Polygon to contact Leshem have not been successful. One of the show's producers, Jason Serrato, contacted by Polygon via phone, declined to be interviewed.
Akira Thompson, an indie developer and adviser to the of the Interactive Media and Games Division of USC's school of Cinematic Arts, was hired as a consultant to the project, and helped pull together the teams. He said that the show went adrift from its original premise when the sponsorship money came in, and outside producers were hired.
"Early on I was consulting with the Polaris people and telling them what a game jam is, the kind of community we are and the kinds of people we should get involved with," he said. "Although it was pitched to me as a reality show I said, no it can't be that. It needs to be about allowing people to see how games are made and who makes them.
"What happened is that the Polaris guys had the best of intentions but once the money came, the project got too big for them and that is when an outside production company was brought in, from reality TV, and they know what they want to get and they wanted that very specific thing that none of us were privy to.
"They didn't get it and everyone else got fucked. I am angry. This was not what I signed up for. I got my friends to come into this thing and we all thought it was going to be something different and now I look like an asshole, I look like an idiot. It turned into a massive failure and my name is associated with it and so I am very angry about it."
He said that the whole affair is likely to land Polaris and Maker in trouble with owners Disney. Those involved in the show estimate a loss of around $450,000. "I don't believe it is to Maker's benefit to have a lawsuit [against contestants]. Right now they are looking bad," he said. "I think that the best thing that can happen would be a cleaning of house."