“Difficult” Questions & Leadership

There’s been some discussion lately about seeing an uptick in “negative” questions and it likely has something to do with the weirdness that is our everyday waking reality being in a somewhat state of flux at best and a burning dumpster fire of uncertainty and disappointment at real.

At a time like this, wherein our ways of working and job security can feel cast under an opaque shadow of doubt, it’s only natural to see more difficult questions being asked to drive for more clarity from leadership during these challenging times. The fog of recession is one that some companies are experiencing more acutely and as such, I’d imagine that many people (whether internal or hearing stories from elsewhere) need answers and contingencies. And who could blame them? Navigating personal life while balancing the demands of the job and family (and more!) are anything but simple at this time.

While many struggle to adapt to new working styles, new expectations on a role that has suddenly transitioned to remote, or are being impacted in a sweeping reorganization of the business, there may be a swift uptick in questions from those on your team — and we simply can’t expect all of them to be easy answers to provide or to get from those who make the call outside of your organization.

You can’t hide away from context-seeking questions. Especially not in times of great economic and personal uncertainty. But how we choose to handle these difficult questions can either ease the fears and concerns of our team members (if possible) or only serve to sow seeds of discord and distrust.

Note: We’ll be using the term “difficult” questions at times in this piece, but I want to make it clear that this is not a position or opinion about the individual posing the question, but rather a categorization for questions that obtaining an answer for may prove difficult or alternatively tough to answer as the specifics and impact may be largely unknown or less than favorable.

Perspective

Remember that what someone may deem “negative”, another may be seen as earnest and even helpful in moving towards a more open dialogue to another. Platforms like Slack (and honestly any text-based medium) can seemingly remove the humanity from the question — and more importantly, the asker. We can’t see the person on the other end of the line which means we can’t interpret their intonation, body language, or any other cues that may help inform us on the attitudinal positioning of the individual.

In this way, we can begin to project these attributes; telling stories to ourselves about the intent and motivations of the questioner. When we move into this position, what may have been a fairly direct but legitimate line of questioning can quickly move into oppositional or disrespectful territory. But this is just a story we’re telling ourselves about someone else. It’s not rooted in fact or even from a place of curiosity. It assumes intent and can create intentional and unintentional negative impact.

Just because something receives scrutiny or a push to consider alternative impacts or more extensive consequences does not mean that there is any malevolent intent whatsoever. In fact, I’d consider this the opposite! They’re willing to dive deeper to offer additional perspectives at a cost to themselves. It also doesn’t mean that anyone will be any less committed once they’ve received a more clarifying answer either. So long as the answer is actually helpful.

Avoid labeling people and/or questions as or “negative”. That’s a subjective term that is full of self-told stories that infer intent. And if you’re doing it, chances are others are doing it too.

Why Your Culture Won’t Solve It All

Even if you’re built a culture around transparent communication that can stand up to any and all scrutiny, you can’t blame someone for still feeling safer asking challenging questions with the safety net of anonymity. Maybe they’re new to your company and they simply haven’t seen this behavior modeled without consequence yet. Maybe they had a leader they trusted at another job who promised them safety and assurance with their earnest communicate and it was ultimately met with punishment. We can’t know everyone’s stories but what we should know is that this level of trust is earned, not simply taken on because it’s written in big letters on a wall mural.

If we want to create environments that encourage this level of transparent honesty, we need to remember that this is more often not the default state many operate in — and remember that even if this can be achieved on the more intimate, small-group level, it may never happen for someone at scale. Especially when there are literally thousands of other people at some companies.

I mean, think about it: Even if Leadership is keen to answer a challenging line of questioning (and enjoy the honesty!), what about everyone else who witnesses these questions? What stories might other employees be telling about the person who poses a more challenging question? If the only time someone sees someone else’s name is that they’re often the one asking more context-seeking questions during a company-wide Town Hall or other format, what archetype could be being assembled to onlookers about this person?

Do your best to avoid thinking about someone you don’t know in these terms as it is damaging to them as a whole person who is more than the sum of their (well-meaning) context-seeking questions.

Additionally, we need to recognize that our company culture is not a monolith. Just because our employee handbook contains romantic platitudes about who we are and how we operate, it doesn’t mean that these are consistently across all areas of the business. A lot of this comes down to leaders and other personalities on the direct team you’re working on. And we cannot influence every piece of this puzzle, no matter how many catchphrases your organizations is known for.

Power & Privilege

It’s important to note that power and privilege often come into play on this topic. We can unknowingly diagnose a “powerful” leader who asks difficult questions as thorough or heroic while seeing an individual contributor or someone further down the organizational design as a difficult dissenter. Our positions as leaders may enable us to voice a dissenting opinion, but if we want to create space for honest dialogue, that needs to happen at the individual contributor level as well. This, of course, is only one small piece of the larger discussion about how our privilege affects perception. And it’s its own post, to be honest.

I know that I’ve felt reticent to offer up a clarifying question in some instances for fear of being labeled as anything less than enthusiastic about the mission or vision of our company. And I say that as a white male who has had my own fair share of privilege. As such, I can’t begin to imagine how difficult and intimidating this line of questioning may be for those who aren’t as represented in other parts of the business — especially if they don’t see people like them sitting in leadership.

We need to recognize the tremendous courage it takes to ask questions. We need to remember that it’s not when people are asking questions that we should feel hopeless, it’s when they’re not and they still don’t align. It’s when they know it’s not even worth a conversation or clarification, but would rather temporarily soldier on while they figure out what’s next for them (and what’s next is likely outside of your organization). Challenging questions show that people are still here and they still recognize their ability to impact change and maybe at times even reorient to a new direction.

While maybe you personally haven’t, many people have had to deal with the difficulty of being labeled “difficult” for ever offering up a counter-opinion or pushing on a decision that was made that may have more far-reaching effects than the stakeholders realize.

It would be unfair for companies to invite people into advancing their careers into leadership, and when an individual does take the steps to do this through asking for more context into decision-making, that they’d be punished and boxed out of the conversation. A true invitation is one that stands in both easy times and difficult seasons to navigate. Encourage the conversations. All of them.

Here & Now

Let’s also not forget that right now is an incredibly difficult time for many people. While nationwide protests for equality and a pandemic continue, we’re trying to focus our time and energy into work where and when we can.

No matter how hard we may try to compartmentalize these worlds, it’s an impossible ask to pretend that these can and will remain separate. Remember that some may need even more context here and now as they work to stay in the know about the state of their jobs, the performance of the company, and to reaffirm commitments to sustainable change as more than lip service. Now is the time to allow your statements on the wall to truly be lived out.

Remember that tone policing won’t help. If we’re truly committed to hearing, we need to be able to listen––even if we don’t like what we’re hearing based on a word here or there that grinds against us the wrong way.

The people you work with likely aren’t professional orators, and even if they were, our approach to every situation or conversation looks different. The way we asks things and how we seek context varies by personality and we’d do well to remember that our preference for how we’d like to receive a question is merely a flex to allow ourselves to dominate the conversation. True openness to the dialogue may mean setting your preference and your ego aside to do the hard work of listening and providing the context people deserve. Show up and the work. It makes a difference.

Remember that dissenting opinions are critical and we should encourage them. They hold us accountable and keep us honest — even when being honest is hard. Especially when it is. They can even challenge a previously held perspective and, if we’re willing, can bring us to new, more equitable answers that we may not have sought out if we weren’t willing to listen and change our own minds.

This is the work of being a leader. And if we can’t show up and provide a safe space for the questions or assume positive intent (no matter how “forward” we feel the questions may be), others will notice. And once you sell off that psychological safety, you’ll find you may never be able to buy it back.

Jumping into the big world of digital illustration can be daunting. Do you have a natural style? What’s that style going to look like in the digital space? How do you find it? Is there life on mars? And more.

Depending on your previous experience with illustration in the more tangible realm, you may already have some sort of style preference that might make a natural transition into the digital space. I however didn’t have a very extensive background in the more traditional mediums due to the fact that my hands are actually more akin to wearing a pair of mitts while trying to thread a needle as you ride on the back of an ostrich. Which is to say, not great. Not all bad! But probably nothing you’d “ooh” or even “ah” at.

Enter: The Grid™. A way for me to illustrate using a system that would allow for the use of constraints that would (hopefully) lead to creative solutions in how to approach building assets. You see, the idea of a greenfield illustration work or actually trying to use the pen tool was overwhelming to me when you literally cannot tell if I’m trying to draw a horse, a dog, or some malformed eldritch horror. But with a grid in place, what could normally be perceived as a proportional trespass may now simply be the result of a necessary abstraction to serve the gods of The Grid.

Put more simply, the grid is a way for me to think in systems. They create an economy of visual scale and offer up a way to create “rules” for an illustrative universe. They’re like bumpers on a bowling lane, but prettier.

Thinking in systems has helped me demystify the illustration process and get more confident about the wonky way I may view the world and its components.

Setting Up Your Grid

For this piece, we’ll be using Adobe Illustrator to set up our grid.

I’ve changed the defaults they provide because 8 is a far better number to divide by than 10, which may come into play if you need to leave the open world of vectors and into the less forgiving world of rasters.

Open up those preferences by accessing the settings in Illustrator > Preferences > Guides & Grid (as shown below):

I’ve changed my settings to accommodate more opportunities for scaling by working with 8s; which can additionally be divided by 4 and 2 while still being a whole integer. That’s important if you want to avoid aliasing in raster environments where you don’t want half pixels which tend to render as muddy. In short, kiss pixel perfection goodbye if you’re planning on half pixels in a raster environment.

As you can see from the image above, I’ve highlighted the variables we’re changing. Set Gridline every to “80 pt” and Subdivisions to “10”. The simple math here is that 80 / 10 = 8. Which is our magical scalable number. This means that every one of our grid squares measure 8 points wide by 8 points high. I’ve visualized that for you below (the magenta lines aren’t actual grid lines, but rather just mathematical breakpoints measuring 2 points that we can utilize in the illustrations):

With that, we’re off into big blue yonder of actually creating things with this mathematical wonderland in place.

Illustrating With The Grid

Now that we’re all set up, let’s talk about how I approach using the grid in these illustrations.

The first setting I’ll be using frequently is called Snap to Grid. You can find it via View > Snap to Grid. What this does is ensure that any points that we put on the artboard are going to be placed specifically on grid line intersections. That means that shapes (squares, rectangles, etc.) as well as pen tool points will align to the nearest grid point.

It’s worth noting that while I often use the rigidity of these grid points to do my illustrative work, optics rule when it comes to compositions. What this means is that there are times where I will break the grid in the service of a the greater good (*insert “the greater good” gif from Hot Fuzz*).

But anyhow, now that we’ve got that all set up, let’s talk about how why we’re going to be using this grid and what we’ll achieve.

What I love about a constrained grid is how it forces my thinking into geometric components that quite literally serve as building blocks to a larger whole. When you’re confined to the grid, you only have so many options in terms of how you can render a given element. Everything has a give and take relationship to it: give one element more space and you’re taking away precious space that another could have used. In this way, we create a sort of visual economy wherein we’re constantly weighing just how much space (and thus fidelity) we can work with.

This helps in determining just how detailed our illustrations can get as well! Instead of having all the space in the world to show every piece of minutiae, we’re making concessions for what shows just enough. In this way, we’re abstracting specific elements and having come up with creative solutions around less literal but far more interpretive visual identifiers.

In short, more grid means more visual resources for higher levels of detail, but the less grid, the more tactical you’ll need to be in how you approach a solution to render an object. The picture below demonstrates how the size of the grid might impact a given composition.

Because we have less space to work with in the 8pt x 7pt space, we’re having to cut specific details and focus more on the core aesthetic elements of the record player. As we increase the available space resources, we have more options when it comes to illustrating the more decorative elements.

The effects that the grid has on a given element is a fun exercise, but it gets all the more dramatic (and arguably difficult) when it comes to larger compositions with numerous elements that you have to balance.

I particularly love the tension that comes about when you’re working with the constrained elements, but you also want to add things like dimension and shadow/light. Could we have kept the cassette tape flat and potentially have saved some space in the composition? Yes! But adding that chunky dimension also means that we can now play with the lighting a bit more. Did we have to drop a shadow from the record player onto both the cassette and the vinyl album cover? Nope! But it adds some an additional dynamic that we’ll need to figure out how to make work. And in that tension, hopefully we discover a creative approach that we may not have considered before. This is what I meant when I referenced the give and take relationship of these grid-based compositions.

It’s also important to note that just how tightly your grid rules over any composition is another decision you can make!

Does it rule with an iron fist wherein nothing can break outside of the provided grid points? Excellent, you’ll have some concessions to make and some abstractions you’ll likely need to work with. Can it break some of the grid points and if so, are there rules about how? Does it need to work within the confines of who integers to place points? 4 pts? 2 pts? How often can it do that? Or, more dynamically, can objects in the foreground break the grid more frequently, where elements in the background need to stick to a strict grid?

All of these are questions you can answer when it comes to how you’ll want to tailor fit the system to serve your needs.

For myself, I typically set up my 8pt grid, but allow room for integers of 2pts to happen on occasion, but I try to limit just how often I’m using those points by my own gut feel. I also try to only work within 45º angles, because I’m a glutton for punishment. But just like my grid, these are rules and rules are meant to be broken with intention and to serve a better composition, where applicable.

So …Why Do Any Of It?

For me, working with a grid was a great way to start playing in the digital illustration space because it worked with a very defined set of rules that I could actually feel somewhat comfortable playing with. I appreciate the systematic thinking that a grid can provide when it comes to compositional scale and fidelity. What to show and what not to show is a fun tension to live in that has often lead to creative solutions I may not have considered if I had given myself a greenfield canvas without any constraints.

What is also compelling is that the way I approach a given composition may look completely different from how someone else may decide to tackle it, given the same restraints.

When I was just starting out, I would essentially assign myself warmup exercises wherein I’d pressure test how I might illustrate complex objects in a defined space allotment. And lemme tell you: Illustrating a theodolite in a 12pt x 12pt grid is no laughing matter.

To this end, the grid may not be what you’re looking for when it comes to working in a style that you’re excited about. It may be too rigid and not as fluid or organic as you prefer — and there are certainly drawbacks! But for me, it was the perfect kind of restraint to force my brain to start coming up with some new creative solutions. And for that, I’m grateful.

Next up on Creating with Constraints, we’ll dig into Part 2: Color

Well, it’s been a good, long ten years of games and what a medium to be a part of! I’ll be honest, I kind of expected that growing up meant giving up on games and taking up hobbies that were a bit more adult in flavor, but as it turns out, I still can’t get into golf and I can’t build a damn thing out of wood.

To wrap up what’s been an exciting decade in gaming, I’ve ventured forth to compile the greatest list of games that Justin Mezzell has ever penned in what’s soon to become a tradition of most epic proportions. I mean, I’ve got to be the very first that’s had this idea. Literally no one else has done a decade list and I’m pleased to be the very first pioneer on this, the inaugural voyage into waters heretofore unknown.

Apropos of absolutely no one at all asking, here’s a list of my very favorite games of the last ten years. You’re welcome, nobody.

10. The Binding of Isaac

If this was merely a list to rank games based on the sheer amount of time I’ve sunken into them, The Binding of Isaac would be near the top. As it happens, it’s also a fantastic indie game that introduced me to the roguelike genre. And while that field has indeed become somewhat crowded, it stands to reason that The Binding of Isaac remains one of the very best.

If you’re unfamiliar with the roguelike genre, these are games with nearly unlimited playthrough potential as each “run” (see, also: life) has a number of RNG variables that can dramatically alter your strategy. BOI’s diversity in both player mechanics and enemies can make each run feel like a dramatically different game — to thrilling effect.

I won’t lie: it’s a weird game. I mean, it’s kinda gross but in a bizarrely cute way? It’s not for everyone and you’ll probably either love or hate the tone and art of the game, but if you’re down to clown with a boatload of fart jokes, demonic entities, and surprising repository of “wet” sounds, it may just prove to be the addictive game you’ve been looking for.

9. Overwatch

While I’d argue that it’s far from perfect (and the meta has alternating between thrilling and downright boring) Overwatch is still one of my favorite games of this decade. And is, at the very least, another solid contender for the game I’ve invested the most time in.

It’s also what brought me back to the competitive FPS genre after sitting it out for quite some time due to the seemingly unrelenting demands of adulthood and parenthood. Although when I say competitive, I mostly mean that I’m still not great, but I have a somewhat vested interest in contributing towards a victory.

I’ll just come out and say it: I’m not very good. But what makes Overwatch so special to me is that even though I’m only marginally better than a cat walking across a keyboard trying to write a haiku, I rarely ever feel like I’m completely useless. This could probably be said of most team-based games, but since I missed the whole Team Fortress 2 bus, this feeling of not having to be the pinnacle of the headshot elite due to more emphasis being put on role excellence has made the game a consistently enjoyable experience — even when I’m getting thoroughly destroyed.

Couple that with an endorsement system that makes me feel better than I deserve, and an experience system that unlocks cosmetic upgrades, and a team-based gameplay that feels awesome when you’re online with friends (though consequently cursed when you’re not) and yeah, I’m all in.

8. The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim

I’ve played Skyrim on every platform it’s been on for some inexplicable reason that I’m none too proud to admit, but in my defense, it’s a great game. Exploring Tamriel is fun as hell and I, for one, happen to enjoy and even seek out things that fall into that very classification.

The majority of 100+ hour playthrough (which one, amirite?), I rarely do mainline quests. I’m most often just walking about, seeing what fortune and chance bring my way, plundering the depths of the dungeons, and essentially treating Skyrim like a blood-soaked version of the Sims. And why not? The world is so wonderfully realized and there are dozens of copies of The Lusty Argonian littered throughout the landscape just ripe for the taking.

I’d tell you a bit of the story as an enticing hook, but I’ll be honest with you: it doesn’t really matter. It’s mostly a side to the real entree; which is LARPing about Tamriel as a Dovahkiin god.

And it feels good as hell.

Sure, the swordplay is less than perfect. But then again, why would you be anything other than a sneaky rogue with your trusty bow and arrow? Even though I’ve probably started this game over 5 or 6 times, I always vow to try a completely different kind of build. “This time, I’ll be a broadsword bruiser. Yeah, totally different experience this time!” And slowly but surely, I allow myself to be a bruiser who also just happens to enjoy using a bow and arrow and picking locks and has a really great sneak skill and why do I need this sword again?

I didn’t get as deep into Oblivion as a I did Morrowind, so it was a real treat when the DLC, Dragonborn, brought me back to Morrowind. It’s a weird place that I enjoyed on my first visit so getting to return was a real joy.

The only thing missing from my triumphant return was the Mudcrab merchant.

There’s a lot to do in Skyrim. Thankfully, it’s so much fun to do it!

7. God of War (2018)

It’s been some time since I’ve taken up the Kratos mantle, and in that time, a lot has changed — apparently for both me and him. This Kratos is a father, more contemplative, more battle-worn, but still pretty grumpy.

God of War (2018) introduced us to a new world, a new pantheon, and a wholly new, more vulnerable way to experience the antihero. Aside from a outstanding visuals, the gameplay mechanics introduced to the series were a inarguable upgrade to the God of War experience.

Moreover, Atreus, Kratos’ son falls firmly into the camp of NPC partners who actually rule and add to the combat, rather than taking away from it. Not telling you to invest all fo your points in him exclusively, but I’m also not telling you not to. It’s just a real delight to have an AI-controlled partner in the fray who can actually hold their own and is more an asset than a chore.

Have I mentioned the story yet? Because it’s so good. The lore is a ton of fun to uncover, and watching Kratos navigate both fatherhood and elemental giants is, as it turns out, very much my shit.

6. Bioshock Infinite

Bioshock Infinite felt like an upgrade to near every aspect of the original. It’s funny how simply giving your protagonist a voice dramatically changed my investment in their decisions and perils. And one that I’m still most mindful of when that simple attribute is missing.

The first Bioshock’s setting, Rapture, was an underwater utopia-turned-dystopia packed to the gills (see what I did there?) with dark corridors and undesirables. It played well within the confines of a more traditional horror approach with its emphasis on low light and long-since abandoned environments run amok with decay and disrepair.

Infinite’s approach was in giving you a city that wasn’t emptied out, but rather a living and breathing utopia — still very much alive. Exploring Columbia remains one of more impressive experiences I can recall in gaming. Gone were the characters behind glass, giving you instructions. Now, you were among the people, walking about at the height of what’s believed to be a massive achievement in both science and society. Something about that world felt so wonderfully realized and the propaganda-filled streets created an eerie sense of tension; a powder keg about to burst, as it were. And burst it did!

All of these set pieces serve to tell a tale that’s about more than just one man’s vision of a city in the sky, but a rather complex take on American exceptionalism and our own history of racism, classism, and the American dream. It’s a story that’s both unique and yet frightfully familiar and served as one of the first games I’d experienced that proved just how powerful of a mechanism games can be in weaving a compelling narrative yarn.

Columbia and Rapture both remain worlds that were exhilarating to explore, but terrifying to be caught up in.

After all, there’s always a man. There’s always a lighthouse. There’s always a city.

5. P.T.

P.T. is terrifying in a way that many games can only hope to achieve. I mean, based on what I had read, I made sure that I had a small group together to play this one because misery loves company and I’m not about to be the only one in my friend group afraid to sleep for the next few nights.

It’s a short game (a la the fact that it’s actually just a “playable teaser”) but that teaser did more in its few hours of gameplay than most games pack in an entire playthrough. It stands as a proven hallmark of the “less is more” approach to good horror in that oftentimes it’s what you don’t see that’s more terrifying than what you do. And when it comes to video games, that’s one concept that’s far too often neglected. The good news, if you’re not a horror fan, is that it’s brief! The bad news, if you’re not a horror fan, is that it’s absolutely horrifying. So it’s a win-win, really.

While Silent Hills was eventually cancelled, P.T. proved just how much can be done with very little. And it remains an outstanding experience , even as a standalone nightmare. Worse still, Konami did their very best to erase this game from the Playstation Store (and ultimately from any and all existence) and I’ve essentially held on to my original PS4 like a family heirloom because of it. Planning on giving it to my children upon my deathbed. It should go over fairly well.

4. SOMA

SOMA is one of those games that I want to recommend to everyone, but I know that I can’t. It’s a survival horror game (that is actually terrifying) that is truly about survival. I mean, you can’t even fight back against the threats in this game. Your only hope is to run away and hide, praying that you weren’t seen or — worse yet — followed. But the truth is, it’s not even the horror factor that makes this game so great.

Since most folks that I’ve spoken with haven’t heard of SOMA before, allow me to give a brief, surface-level (get it?) introduction: After a brain scan, you wake up in an underwater research station that’s fallen into disrepair. Not only have its better days been long spent up, but the entire place is run amok by robots that, for the most part, don’t seem to take too kindly to his presence. That’s about all you need to know to get started and I’d highly encourage you from spoiling any of it ahead of time.

What really made this experience stand out was how SOMA tackled some headier topics for a game; the biggest one asking what it truly means to be human. The answers to that age-old quandary are experienced in visceral and oftentimes disturbing detail throughout the course of your journey through PATHOS-II. I still get a shudder all the way down my spine when I think on a very specific scene I recall in painstaking detail. And when the credits rolled at the conclusion, my brother and I both sat in silence until they were over before jumping into a nightlong conversation on its impact and where we landed in the greater discussion on humanity, ethics, and how we define consciousness — you know, typical dinner conversations.

It’s also hard to ignore just how effective the no-combat decisions the team at Frictional Games made were. Not only did it ratchet up the overall terror of the experience, but it’s a refreshing (and ultimately humbling) mechanic to not be Joe Blow-Em-Up for a change. Matters are made worse for your character due to the fact that you’re actually unable to even look at the monsters due to that attracting them to you. Which means that when you do (accidentally or otherwise) see them, you’re immediately turning away, looking down at your feet, running away, hiding, and generally just hoping for the best — all while being unable to look in their general direction.

Yeah, it’s that good.

3. Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild

I mean, you knew this was coming, right?

Breath of the Wild was a departure from a formula that we all come to know (and mostly love) from Zelda games of yore. What we received was one of the most lovingly created open world games I can think of (don’t even throw the Witcher 3 at me) that set a new bar for what a Zelda game can be while still feeling very much like one.

Starting you off with pretty much all of the items/powers you’d be using for the rest of the game was one hell of a decision, but it was truly impressive to see just how the team at Nintendo was able to keep these mechanics feeling fresh and challenging throughout the entire playthrough.

Admittedly, my biggest criticism (aside from the lack of Tingle representation (costume doesn’t count, normies)) was that while I enjoyed the dungeons, I do miss the more expansive ones that have anchored the previous entires in the series, but the Divine Beasts were excellent fun, nonetheless. And with the confirmation of a sequel in the works, the Nintendo Switch remains my favorite current platform this generation.

2. Hollow Knight

Where to even begin with Hollow Knight?

I put this one off for entirely too long, promising that I’d come back to play it when I was more in the mindset to plunder its depths (which are deep indeed), but the truth is, I slept on this one.

A Metroidvania for the ages, the sheer amount of content alone in Hollow Knight is impressive for a studio of employees. That would be one thing if that’s all that it had to offer. Thankfully, it isn’t.

I absolutely adored my time in Hallownest. The world is so fully realized with memorable characters, diverse locations, and a lore that is both fantastic and tragic.

And it’s a challenging game. Similar to a Soulsborne in many ways.

Combat is excellent. While you start off with just your Nail, over time you acquire new skills, abilities, and upgrades to your current toolset. Some of the more challenging enemies and bosses required rethinking the way I had approached previous bosses and Charms allowed for the further customization of my skills and offered a lightweight way to create a “build”. It’s not exactly RPG-level deep, but it’s an excellent way to change up your approach and see what charms have synergies to devastating effect — particularly on a stubborn boss you can’t seem to best.

Similar to the best of games, while combat and platforming felt difficult, it never felt cheap or unfair. What’s more, most grueling difficulty content falls firmly in the “optional” camp for try-hards and sadists — of which I only am to a reasonable extent (*waves to The Path of Pain*).

As if that wasn’t enough, the art and character design in Hollow Knight is top shelf. Their use of color is some of the best work I’ve seen in a game in a long time; gradients to make your heart flutter. The characters themselves are this perfect blend of cute and creepy that can lean to one side over the other with ease and effectiveness. They look great and most importantly, they’re memorable designs that flex the art style and give color and life to Hallownest in some astounding ways (looking at you, Dung Defender).

I couldn’t help but love every minute of exploring this world; made all the more excellent for just how unique it all was! Bugs? In a society? That has experienced both tragedy and wonder? With a deep lore involving gods, monsters, and heroes? This is my bag and I’m taking it home.

What’s more, a sequel, Silksong is on the way!

1. Bloodborne

Speaking of sleeping on great games, Bloodborne is one that I picked around the time of the initial release of the PS4, played for about a week (which is a grueling amount of time to take before getting to Father Gascoigne), and promptly quit after realizing that I was not, am not, and will never be ready for this kind of punishment. And, upon further reflection, that makes some semblance of sense.

At surface level, most Soulsborne (a la Dark Souls) games have generally been defined by one word: “hard”. And while that’s fair, it’s also somewhat diminishing of what these games truly are — which is excellent. I’d characters these games not just by their difficulty, but with their request that you not just button mash or run in swinging, but rather take the time to understand your opponent and look for opportune windows of attack. It’s for this reason that your first Bloodborne boss is typically your hardest (thanks for nothing, Gascoigne).

That is, of course, not to say that they aren’t at times a grueling gauntlet of death and an exercise in suffering that constantly asks for your best.

But while some games are satisfied with raising your blood pressure just for the hell of it, Bloodborne (and the Souls games alike) never seems unfair. There are no insta-death jump scares or “cheap” deaths to be found here. Instead, Fromsoftware manages to walk a fine line between “seemingly impossible” to “clearly achievable with effort”. That’s made all the more real by a roleplaying game system that can allow for some grinding, but don’t expect any big jumps in terms of your stats; these are fairly marginal increases that won’t substitute for poor play. You still need to “git gud”.

What made this approach unique to me was how much time I had spent in American AAA games wherein any game is beatable without much effort or refinement of your skills, due to a generous learning curve that mostly just wants you to beat the game and experience their story — which isn’t a bad thing! But clearly, Fromsoftware is less interested in everyone finishing their game, as they are with challenging your abilities. And patience.

It’s a big ask for a game to want you to take the time to master it, these days! But an ask that I found wholly intoxicating. Especially after felling a beast that may have taken dozens of tries. Beating a boss was often met with me physically holding my hand on my chest just to see how fast my heart was beating. Now that’s entertainment (for gluttons for punishment, I suppose?)!

As someone who mostly grew up playing Sega Genesis onward, I missed a lot of games that asked for more from your skillset. Bloodborne remains so impactful to me as it was what initiated my interest in “hard games”.

What’s more, Bloodborne is a masterclass in world-buillding and it’s that world where the game truly sunk its teeth into me. If you’re a fan of eldritch horror and Lovecraftian nightmares, then boy have I got a game for you! Yharnam is a stunningly Victorian hellscape, roamed by monsters of unspeakable terror. It is stunningly gothic and every dark corner feels as if it might house another brush with death. It’s not exaggeration for me to rank it amongst the very best atmospheres I’ve ever played in— and one of the reasons for my multiple playthroughs.

And the inhabitants are no less meticulously (and horrifically) crafted. Enemies are unsettling and never feel phoned in, due to the generous variety of monstrosities. But then, there are the bosses. They range from hulking, godlike behemoths of horror to deadly and nimble hunters, like yourself. In true Lovecraft form, this is a game that can beautifully weave together werewolves and ascended being from the cosmos.

The lore falls firmly into the “some assembly required” camp, as it’s never explicitly spelled out for you. But that makes finding it and piecing together the tragic events of Yharnam hard-earned, but highly satisfying. Though even if you don’t take the time to follow the cryptic history, traversing this world is still a nightmare worth having.

If you do decide to take up the mantle of “Hunter”, may the good blood guide your way.

Honorable Mentions

There were far too many great games that almost made this list, but didn’t quite land a spot. Here are some recommendations to play if none of the above really captured your fancy.

• Dead Cells
• Slay the Spire
• Portal 2
• Celeste
• Gone Home
• DOOM (2016)

It’s happened again. Someone made something, that made a somewhat splash in a small community of people that care about this sort of stuff, and then a party of prestigious names dogpile on to this exploration; dismissing it as woefully impractical and “just Dribbble shit”.

And they’re not wrong! In terms of UX, the animations are critically impractical. I mean, no one is going to want to wait 5 seconds to see that an order was placed successfully. The whole “surprise & delight” to “simple & usable” ratio has skewed so far towards “delight”, that it doesn’t seem concerned with anything else.

And that may just be the point.

To which I can already hear the clamoring onslaught of designers’ fight instincts welling up inside of their chests: “That’s not Design then!” “Well, then that makes them a bad designer!” “If that’s not the point, then these people are what’s wrong with Design!”

Hyperboles aside, let’s just get this out of the way: There’s nothing wrong with criticism. Not one bit. In fact, there’s something very right with it.

This isn’t about decrying criticism. Feedback and critique are valuable components to craft development. We need them as tools to facilitate continual skill growth and career development. The gift of critique is one that is so critically valuable, many of us would be lost without them in our professional (and personal) journeys.

But there’s a difference between critiquing someone’s work and condescendingly dismissing it as “shit” just because the use case doesn’t neatly fit into our understanding of how good Product Design should be practiced. Does that mean that these impractical visual explorations should be shipped as is? No. In fact, I should hope that no one would argue for their unaltered release into the worldwide web. But I do believe that how we talk about these things matters. When someone chooses to put something out into the world, when they use their spare time to explore something that — sure! — feels a bit on the extreme side, I believe there’s a way we can encourage others in their craft; rather than tear down what they were trying to accomplish without having any context into their process or intentions. A number of these experiments, particularly from young designs, might be occurring from a genuine desire to learn in practice.

And perhaps learning is the point. It’s difficult to create something in theory. More often than not, you need to roll up your sleeves and create your own use case (freed from the context and constraints of stakeholders and business interests) just see what you’re capable of.

And there it is again. That desire to push back and say “Without context or constrains, that isn’t Design!” Ok, then! Maybe it’s not design as it should be practiced! Maybe it’s more akin to art?

Or more importantly, maybe it’s not good design. But that doesn’t mean it’s not a good exploration.

Because a good personal experiment is not one by which the audience gets to define its objective, it’s one that the designer/artist gets to explore a very specific intention in order to achieve a desired result. Perhaps, in this case, simply to improve their Visual Design craft — maybe even divorced from their User Experience expertise.

Just because someone can create something impractical but beautiful, doesn’t mean that they can’t employ the other, more practical aspects of their craft to suit the needs of more directed, intentional experiences.

We’re living in a time where Design is rightfully taking on a more robust set of responsibilities than just “does it look good?” — and that is all for the better! These considerations are making better products and more considerate, inclusive designers in the process. This is truly something to be celebrated. And the results are showing up in the experiences we’re building. We should never walk back on these responsibilities as practitioners. These are and should have always been our responsibilities. But I do believe there is still room for personal exploration to gain exposure to tools we can use in future experiences. Dribbble and the like are interesting platforms to be able to do just that.

I believe that we should be free to experiment visually. There’s nothing wrong or too indulgent with setting aside time to create something which, while perhaps impractical in a product implementation, might be just what we need to stretch our creative muscles and show off a bit of what we’re capable of while unconstrained. This is a particularly useful skill for young designers who are working to establish somewhat a following (which, let’s not kid ourselves and pretend that that isn’t helpful in the job hunt). There’s something liberating about having a wild idea in your head and finally putting it into pixels on the screen — even if it’s never intended to be used practically. So much of my early work fell into this category.

In this way, illustration gets the upper hand. Rarely, if ever, have I uploaded a piece that had no greater intention than exercising a concept or pressure-testing a style, and gotten feedback about its impracticality or lack of clear use case. Clearly, this has to do with the application of the medium. Illustration doesn’t need to be bound to an intention to be successful. It can exist for its own sake; content to be classified as “art”.

Visual/UI Design, on the other hand, when untethered to User Experience considerations feels hollow and deeply shallow — an exercise in futility, by most accounts. But maybe it’s not so futile when it comes to personal exploration! In the same way that I’m able to pressure test a form factor or style for illustration, others might use this very notion as a way to explore a possible visual language in a rather extreme (if not fully impractical) format. Think of this as the fashion runway of the design world:

Practicality isn’t the point, the experiment is.

And creating without constraints allows us to pull from various mediums; from illustration to layout and typography to animation. From there, these designs can be refined with usability in mind. They can be trimmed and edited and made more succinct. Someone might be hired to do bring this sort of delight into a more usable state to give an existing product some life and, dare I say, restrained delight? Practicality and usability must be a consideration for actual product integration, but in the experimentation stage, I believe we should feel free to explore the any aspect of the craft that we’re seeking to improve — and for some, that may be animation! For others, that may be typography or 3D illustration! Design is a big world, and to stay on your game, it doesn’t hurt to get experience in manipulating a number of mediums.

But like all good experiments, it’s important to actually learn from them! And here’s where the community can come in handy. To put some onus on those posting these explorations, perhaps consider making those intentions known? If you’re creating something for the sake of experimentation or to put some time into working with a specific medium, might I suggest making those intentions known? That may inform where those critiques are coming from and what to address? Leverage those eyeballs and those comments!

For those of us who haven’t been hired to do this work while being paid, experimentation is a great way to show off what we’re capable of in an unconstrained format. In fact, I myself, have been hired on a number of jobs for non-practical, more experimental work that was never intended to serve a specific function. But my experience in learning how to work within the medium was then applied to working with the constraints of my job/project.

The simple fact is that these experiments often occur in a designer’s free time. And when some see that these explorations are “taking off” in the social space (a la Dribbble and/or Instagram), there’s a pang of jealousy mixed with dismissiveness that we’re somehow better than this sort of frivolous play.

Or maybe for some, the issue we take is that this work “takes off” in the age of social media; that is gets the engagement numbers? I’ve seen some decry this activity due to the belief that this is somehow ruining our industry? Which feels hyperbolic to me, but I’ll entertain this idea enough to say that bad work has and always will exist — your opinions on it probably won’t change that. The public recognition of eye candy over form factor is one that is more appealing to the masses in our click-to-content culture. This is not relegated to Design, but we’re also not free from it either. It’s no surprise that easily digestible, self-contained visual experiments are able to draw in more engagement than other mediums. The barrier to contextual understanding is low to nonexistent. And sure, you could wage a war on what people engage with this content, but is it really all that surprising that shallow, focused experiments draw more “ooh”s and “ah”s? It hardly seems like a good use of time huffing, puffing, and policing anyone creating these experiments.

What it seems to me like we’re actually doing is telling people how to spend their free time; as if we’re condemning their work because it doesn’t conform to the way in which we believe others should be using their time outside of work. I’ve seen some suggest that they should be doing something “useful” with their time — and indeed we all should! But that doesn’t take away from the fact that all of us have time that we invest in seemingly superficial activities. Whether it’s video games, perusing your favorite subreddits, or constantly checking in on the world of social media, we all partake in endeavors that are more of a time sink than a value add; and that can be a healthy thing! I don’t believe it’s any more my business to tell you that you shouldn’t be exploring impractically stylized design than I do that you shouldn’t waste your time watching the latest season of Succession. Because it’s your time and in this world, it’s important you find the time to do what you find joy and freedom in.

This article won’t stop the attitudes that arise to combat these sort of explorations. The fact remains that there’s actually some pretty solid social currency that comes out of dogpiling on to this sort of work; just check the Twitter engagement numbers on these types of interaction. It’s quick and easy punching down in this way that is almost always sure to get a response from the masses all nodding in agreement — and maybe that’s just human. There’s something that can be quite comforting to knowing that those of us already established enough in this world of Design have little to fear from the next wave of designers who can’t even comprehend good user experiences. We can sit justified in our smug self-satisfaction, unaware that all of your experimentation (both practical and impractical) is actively engaging your learning in a way that will continually refine you as a designer. And then, who knows, you may just come for our jobs. What a thought! After all, if you still find joy in the work that we do (both off and on the clock), then you’re growing and evolving at a rate that is both inspiring and should be troubling to those that seek to do little else than gatekeeper and punch down from their ivory tower.

So experiment with your designs. Try a number of solutions, hone any number of your crafts that you so desire — and show the world what you can create! And when it comes time to ship some of those designs, refine the hell out of those explorations, make good on your experiments and show the world what you’re capable of again.

Last week, a few folks entered into a really fantastic discussion around Take-Home Design Tests and compensation on Twitter. More specifically, whether or not those of us offering work opportunities should be paying applicants for their entries during the interview process — which turned out to be something of a split issue.

And, as in all good discussions, there was a lot of nuance surrounding the conversation. Situational dependencies that made it more difficult to do in-person interviewing, synchronization issues to overcome, as well as an opportunity to reduce bias in our candidate pool, to name a few. Which are all incredibly valid and fair points in why a Take-Home Design Test might be effective in a given situation.

Hiring is hard work. Applying is hard work. There’s almost nothing happening in that season of life for either party that’s less than borderline stressful or hopelessly manic. I mean, let’s face it: The job application process is exhausting. On both parties, really. And we can only truly know the side we’re on when it’s happening.

But through all of the nuance surrounding this topic (which was both valid and enlightening), there’s one aspect of this conversation that sticks out to me: the lack of compensation for someone’s time outside of the interview process. And that, my friends, brings us to the topic of Take-Home Design Tests and the compensation I believe should be offered therein.

Design Tests: Are they worth it?

But first, let’s talk about the validity of these exercises to determine whether or not they can or should be utilized in the first place. For the purposes of this essay, we’ll be speaking to “Take-Home” Design Tests, where an applicant is working on a given challenge using time outside of the office (as opposed to white-boarding it all live — which is its own essay, believe me). And while it won’t be exhaustive, it may be a jumping off point to those who immediately dismiss Design Tests as wholly superficial and ineffective at measuring anything other than the ego of the issuer. Speaking from experience, I’ve personally found these exercises to range anywhere from moderately helpful to damn near abusive. Which is to say that not all Design Tests are created equal; neither from implementation nor intent.

To me, the real trouble with using a Design Test to assess skill level is just how far removed from the actual day-to-day working context that experience may be; in other words, they might be a poor indication of actual performance conditions for the prospective role. While I suppose it could be useful to assess how a candidate might perform under immense pressure (do this, along with all other asks from potential employers), with next to no situational support (no current coworkers) in a topic they likely know nothing about (unless they’re lucky), I’m still left wondering just how close that is to any situational reality they might experience on the job.

And while we can’t promise that any workplace will be the perfect culmination of best practices and an enduring state of serenity, it is our job as leaders and managers to actively minimize those instances; not embrace them as if they are the working norm.

Testing someone on an extreme use case that they (hopefully) won’t experience while on the job feels like an unnecessary pressure test that seeks to be more a measure of how much time they’re willing to invest in your request in this given moment. And that is a situational equation — one that we can’t possibly hope to get the full picture of with any real clarity. Are you the only job they’re applying for? In many situations, likely not — though it may be a nice (albeit self-serving) thought. But in many scenarios, your workplace is one of a few (to many) possible workplaces that the applicant is excited to be a part of. And there’s nothing wrong with that reality.

As mentioned above, what we can generally assess from the results of a Design Test is just how much time an applicant was willing to sink into the experience; outside of all of the in-person interviewing and context-seeking. But as most of us in the working world know, time simply does not equate to value. Moreover, a lack of high investment may not mean that the applicant chose to underperform, but rather that their situational realities did not allow for the quantitative time investment that other applicants (those perhaps still gainfully employed and free from the existential pressure, for example) may have to invest in such an exercise.

That’s not to say that Design Tests are all evil or ineffective at putting some form and shape to an applicant’s abilities, but rather to assert that maybe what we’re looking to measure isn’t what’s actually being effectively measured within the process. Or to put it another way: all data gathered is not equal in its value.

What variables might a Design Test measure?

I’ve found that while Take-Home Design Tests may be helpful in very loosely determining where a candidate’s current skill set might be within the situational confines mentioned above, they may also be a poor summation of an applicant’s potential. Which, to me, feels like the real value we can cultivate and elevate in our employees.

And when I say potential, I mean the ability and desire a candidate has towards skill growth. As with many things, this is a multifaceted attribute that may be benefited by some parts innate skill, but is ultimately and effectively propelled to action by a willingness to learn and soak up knowledge. Much of that knowledge experienced while on the job or under the mentorship of an invested party.

To put that into perspective, potential is a key variable for me in the hiring process, whereas tooling proficiency ranks pretty low on the list.

This isn’t to say that a Design Test can’t be an indicator of this potential. After all, these exercises can reflect a measure of dedication and aptitude; just with a big asterisk that might also include the situational dependencies of the request. In that way, sometimes it feels like using a jackhammer to put a nail in place.

So maybe it’s worth breaking down just what a Take-Home Design Test might be helpful in assessing :

• Time invested: I mean, it feels good to be prioritized. There’s no way around that. Put simply, we can evaluate just how much time and energy an applicant put towards our exercise by generally measuring the extent of the output. While this may make us as a potential employer feel good, we’ve already outlined some ways that time invested is an uneven variable and biasing towards time as a key indicator of success may actually remove a more fitting candidate who was not able to give quantitatively. In essence, time may be a shortsighted metric to measure against.
• Craft versatility: Maybe you’re impressed with an applicant’s ability to work within a few areas of Design (let’s suppose visual design and illustration), but you’re unsure if they possess one or two key skills they’ll be needing at least foundational domain knowledge within (UX research, for example). A Design Test might be helpful in getting a more well-rounded view of the practices a candidate may be deploying on the job that they didn’t include in their portfolio. In this use case, if a conversation wasn’t conclusive enough, a Design Test may be a reasonable response to keep a hopeful candidate in the running that may have overlooked showcasing or fumbled with properly communicating a critical skill requisite.
• Problem-solving: A Design Test might be useful in evaluating a candidate’s ability to work through a difficult challenge that may require more nuance and unfamiliarity than what is currently showcased. Due to the nature of a portfolio, these are often the most buttoned-up, refined pieces we’ve compiled to reflect that very best of what we’re capable of. And for good reason! However, by its very curation, some might see these as a longshot from the realities of the job. Depending on the timeline (on the spot, overnight, or even a week out), an exercise could be helpful in demonstrating an applicant’s readiness to work through difficult problems that demand nuanced solutions in a more time-boxed environment. The realities of the job might lie somewhere in-between the Design Test and the portfolio piece. The exercise, therefore, is merely another data point to measure what performance might look like along this spectrum.

This isn’t exhaustive. There are likely more insights that could be teased out of a Design Test that could ultimately be helpful to the hiring party. But the point that I’m really hoping to make here is that we, as hiring managers, need to be aware of the shortfalls of such an exercise and be more intentional about what it is we’re seeking to measure and what variables these challenges might be ineffective at appropriately assessing. And that we might pressure-test ourselves on whether or not a Design Test is actually the right next step, or if seeking context in conversation might also reveal these unknowns in a far more efficient (and respectful) way.

Bills for the skills

But here’s the real crux of the conversation here: Should we be paying those who we’ve asked to participate in a Take-Home Design Test? My answer here is a resounding yes.

And I understand the pushback in these scenarios. Paying for things is expensive! And you’re right. It is expensive. But getting design work done for you (whether it’s used or abandoned on the shelf) costs real people real time and real money. It’s the nature of business. What I would recommend in these scenarios is to limit the amount of participants at this part of the interview process. If you know that you’ve got a fixed amount to offer an individual for their time, budget just how many of these Take-Home Design Tests you’d be willing to pay for across the candidate pool.

Chances are, if you’re having most of your applicants doing one, you’re wasting a lot of people’s time — not just your own.

Use a Take-Home Design Test as a near-final step in the interview process wherein the previous context-gathering mediums fell short of the requirements for hiring. Maybe you’ve only got one headcount left and there are two candidates who, thus far, seem to be equally strong. This could be a reasonable tie-breaker. So long as you’re keenly aware of just what this test might measure well and what this test will take a poor, ineffective pulse on.

Be empathetic to the applicant’s situational realities and think about what it might look like to invest all of the time and energy you have available to not just multiple rounds of interviews with stakeholders and team members, but to also have homework to continue proving that you are who you say you are and still not get the job. Imagine what it might mean to devote hours or even days on a specific design challenge and never see a dollar back from all of that investment. Paying for the take-home time of a candidate sends a clear message that you’re intentional in who makes it to this stage and solidifies your commitment to being a good steward of that individual’s time and energy. It keeps you from blindly assigning extraneous work and ensures that every decision to assess with this medium is under some scrutiny with clearly defined intents and expectations. Be discerning! Figure out where and when these tests are appropriate and when a different medium for evaluation might be just as effective — if not more!

And it goes without saying, for the love of anything holy at all, do not use a Take-Home Design Test to actually solve problems at your company and then not pay an individual for their time or a leasing of their ideas. There’s going to be a special place in Design Hell for these offenders of human decency and I do not want to be on that bus.

I‘d recommend creating a design challenge that sits far outside of any business objectives just to play it safe. What’s more, it will also prevent you from coming to the review table with the burden of knowledge. We’ve all learned how to work within our business contexts to the extent that we might be dismissive or biased against solutions that we’ve either already tried or would prefer to stay away from. Keeping the test outside of these domains might help you be more objective and open to new and emerging ideas. And hey, it will be an actual surprise for the potential candidate which actually could assess how they show up when juggling unexpected challenges.

In conclusion

I personally don’t believe Design Tests are all evil in the hiring process. In fact, I’ve used them in the past as a hiring manager. While we did offer compensation for these exercises, I still feel that what we offered was less than what I’d consider fair and it was used far too often with candidates I had already been comfortable making the call on. This unnecessarily dragged out the hiring process, putting potential employees through yet another gauntlet they needed to nail the landing on. Upon reflection, some of those don’t feel like they were an efficient use of time or resources on either side of the equation.

My ask is that we use discernment on where these tests might be appropriate, more rigorously question the necessity during the process, and maintain some awareness of the numerous blindspots they come packaged with. May we have clear expectations on what insights a test of this nature will illuminate as well as what measurables these will not effectively demonstrate.

And ultimately, that if we do move forward with a Design Test, that we pay our prospective employees for their precious time and hard-fought energy.

Speaking of hiring, did you know that we’re hiring Product Designers at Pluralsight? Check it out!

Thoughts on building an audience and measuring success

I used to tell other people not to worry about their following. And in some ways, I still believe that should be the case in the right context, but it took me a far too long time to actually understand the terrible privilege that comes with being able to make that statement from a place of already having assembled one (not huge, but enough) and experiencing the benefits (however limited) of that visibility.

What my intention was (however misguided), was in trying to tell folks just breaking on to the scene to create work like no one was watching. It was an attempt to inspire those who were either too nervous to put their work out into the universe or to encourage those who felt as if their work — no matter how much overtime they put in — had experienced no traction in return for their long hours and sleepless nights.

But I can see what a poor consolation that may have been to those who needed a more nuanced hope. After all, the work we create, however frivolous or shallow it might seem in pixels, is ultimately the way we make a living. In that way, our body of work is our path towards financial stability and in some cases, the ruler by which we measure our own personal success.

But the truth of it is: None of us is promised visibility or an audience in return for great work. There are countless folks who are making truly remarkable design that hasn’t yet (and may not ever) find the right audience. There are people far more deserving than I am to have their work getting the views that my work does. That’s not to tout my audience as massive (it’s not, but I suppose that’s all relative), but rather to suggest that the limited audience that I’ve been privileged enough to build thus far in my career would be just as deserving — if not more — of many other individuals who haven’t yet found the visibility they’re toiling to build. And I call it a toil, because I know how difficult this is. There’s often a tremendous pressure on accumulating a following that can feel somewhat daunting and maybe even hopeless for new designers.

Because in many ways, the Design conversation is one that feels like it’s been going on for a long time; with many speakers leading the discourse. I know because when I first started, I felt just as alone and just as directionless. There were giants ahead of me that had built coliseums of great work and I, with my bootlegged copy of Photoshop (sorry, Adobe) was an impostor with a canvas.

I don’t know how and why certain designs catch on more than others. There’s clearly a tie with that seems to be popular in that particular season of life within the community. For example, 3D is taking off in the Dribbble community and it’s absolutely beautiful! But even working within the confines of trends or what’s on the Popular page doesn’t guarantee visibility. I’m not sure why some of the work that we spend days on days of revisions and painstaking hours on refining doesn’t land, but that quick diddy we did in 30 mins may spread like an unconfined wildfire — but sometimes it does! We can’t predict who will connect with what, but sometimes it does and oftentimes (maybe more so) it doesn’t.

Building an audience has never felt like a science to me. I don’t have the magic bullet for what it looks like or 10 simple steps for getting the follow ratio of your fever dreams. I suspect that, like many things in life, both privilege and dumb luck play a part. The content I was creating found a home in nerdy fandoms and like-minded gamers and cinephiles but to even get there in the first place, the situation had to be just right. And that may have been nothing more than dumb luck. Maybe someone “influential” (ew, okay — that word is gross) stumbled on it and decided to share it out? Maybe the Bioshock fanclub just happened to all decided to peruse Dribbble at the exact same time and collectively decided “huh, this ain’t bad”.

There are any number of factors that we can’t control that may contribute to broader visibility. And many of those who have developed a platform at that scale haven’t achieved it based on merit alone. I know I didn’t.

Dribbble was the home my work found, but that doesn’t mean that it will be the best home for yours. Experiment with different communities. It won’t hurt to get your work on different venues where it may just find a home.

What I’m hoping you’ll avoid is the determinism that tells you that you can’t make it. The inner voice that keeps whispering that it’s impossible to build an audience or achieve success. And when it comes to building a large audience, you just might not! Truthfully, you may never build the massive following of your dreams, be interviewed for that publication you’ve been following since you started, or land that dream client that you’ve been aspiring towards since you first broke out onto the scene as a wide-eyed youth — full of equal parts self-doubt and determination.

But life has a funny way of working out.

Whether it’s finding a much better client relationship than you ever could have hoped for in an unlikely place or actually discovering that your self-worth isn’t found in your follower count, what I truly hope for you is that your cynicism and your own insecurities come at odds with the constant reminder that these things do not define you or the worth of the work you do. That you’re reminded from time to time that the path to success looks substantially different for every one of us and that comparison is a poor game to play with rarely any winners.

What you’ll soon see is that in many ways, discovery and visibility is a human game (at this time, at least). It takes eyeballs and clicks and signal boosts. In that way, the onus lies on the community to elevate and champion voices that are still small and quiet and raise them to a thundering roar. We, collectively, should be seeking out new work, new voices, and new perspectives and working to build a broader platform for them and with them.

I’ll cop to not doing my part here. I could be a more vocal advocate for those that should have an audience. I should be doing my part to use the engagement I have to widen the Design conversation to be more inclusive of emerging artists and designers — not just old hats and legacy peers.

I can do better. I will do better.

And I’m not alone. We need more sharing of new work, more championing of new perspectives, and a collective more towards not viewing new artists or designers as competition, but as colleagues that we cheer on from the sidelines as they get their time to shine.

So let’s wrap this up. Wherever you are in your career, I hope this find you well. However you’ve felt about your own work up until now or about the audience you’ve built so far, my hope is that you don’t let cynicism or determinism tell you that it’s all pointless. It’s not.

What I hope is that you’ll reframe the internal dialogue around success and achievement; and that you won’t let others define it for you. I hope that you don’t stop doing what you love, even if no one has yet lined up to watch you do it.

Because the path looks different for all of us.

And if you’re just beginning, make it one hell of a ride.

—

Edit: I’ve started a thread of some designers and illustrators I’ve discovered on Dribbble with less than 500 followers. You can follow along as we work to elevate the visibility of emerging artists.

Congratulations! You’re the proud recipient of a Super Team Deluxe™ Art Print™. Surely, this must be your most defining moment and we’d be remiss to not celebrate you — but also to remind you that it will unfortunately not make up for a lifetime of questionable decisions. Onward, ho!

While many find this honor to be too great a privilege to bear, we have full confidence in your ability to navigate these luxurious waters with all the grace and aplomb of a treasure goblin doing lines of faux gold dust at a JoAnn’s.

Prophecies foretold of your acquisition, but not of your magnificent reign. So what, pray tell, should thou do with this dopest of delicacies? We gotchu, boo.

Remind yourself that you are the literal lap of luxury

Behold! Your extravagance now knows no bounds. With a Super Team Deluxe™ Art Print™, your humble home has been transformed into a resort that rests right on the pelvic bone of leisure. You may now drape yourself in velvet, adopt a rare and valuable endangered animal as a pet, and exclusively wear tracksuits. This what being The Lap is all about and you’re welcome.

Convert your home into a Super Team Deluxe™ museum

Yes, you are now famously wealthy. You have access to the finest caviar but you eat it on hot dogs because you are that rich. And not the good hot dogs. You put $20000 caviar on those store brand ballparks, just to prove a point. But never forget your humble roots by building your life around owning and operating your very own Super Team Deluxe™ museum. The pay is inadequate and the benefits nonexistent, but it’s honestly the least you could do.

Go to a nice restaurant and order every lobster they have in the building

You own the ocean now. That’s the rule.

Make your shitter shine

We’ll concede that this one may not deal directly with your new Super Team Deluxe™ Art Print™, but we’re not prepared to remove such a powerfully intoxicating statement that is sure to rouse even the coldest of hearts. Inspiration is everywhere!

Look at it and feel smug

This is art. Art is finally yours and you have also become art. No one else is art. Let them know it. You can be ready for any event by rehearsing a warm, reassuring scoff. Rinse twice daily with salt water for maximum effect.

This is your new life. Your previous life was fine, but there wasn’t nearly enough marble in it. Or columns. Now, you have more columns than Excel. This lavish new lifestyle is everything that the Super Team promised you and more. All because you bought a Super Team Deluxe™ Art Print™**.

** Results may vary

5 Things You Can Do with Your New Super Team Deluxe™ Art Prints™ was originally published in Super Team Deluxe on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Anyway, we had a great idea that’s completely our own and totally not inspired by any outside sources and so we’ve deiced to update our Privacy Policy. Please listen to these changes and be inspired by our charity and goodwill. After all, we believe you have the right to privacy, so long as a government applies the right amount of pressure to ensure it!

We will no longer sell your information on Craigslist

We’re pleased to announce that we’re officially done doing business with anonymous information exchanges on Craigslist. Sure, we had a good run and a mortgage certainly doesn’t pay for itself moving forward, but you might be pleased to know that InfoXxXHunterx69xXx will no longer be our best buyer for the month.

We will immediately stop imbuing our products with curses

Admittedly, this has been a questionable business practice from the beginning, but we’re committing to refraining from imbuing our metals with any and all hexes, curses, jinxes, charms, and/or anything else that gets somewhat chummy with the dark arts. From here on out, all Super Team paraphernalia will be untouched by sacrificial blood.

We will no longer mine your computer data for information about unpaid library fines

At STD, we respect your privacy, and also the limp, OVERREACHING LEGAL ARMS of the EU. That’s why we will no longer search for and record your library fines for us to use down the road *cough, blackmail, cough* or to make sure your local library keeps the lights on. Instead, your library will die, the way you’ve always wanted, you monster.

We’re done with carving your email addresses on our bodies and then posing for tasteful, semi-nude photoshoots

Don’t ever say we don’t do anything for you. Our most beloved pastime of marking our supple and cherished bodies with your private email addresses before a sensually artful photo session will no longer be a practice the Super Team engages in. The world will be denied not only access to your correspondence, but also the allure of a near hairless, exquisite semi-nude figure built for comfort.

We will no longer watch you sleep

For real, this time. We pledge to let you slumber without our watchful eyes gazing upon your lavish indulgence of the moonlight. We also pledge to delete any and all recorded sleeping sessions and will no longer interfere within said sleeper’s dream world, nightmarescape, and/or any other rest-related realities. Enjoy your newfound privacy.

Also, save 25% off of your entire purchase today on Super Team Deluxe with code PRIVATIZEME.

Hi, We’re Writing To Tell You That We’ve Updated Our Privacy Policy was originally published in Super Team Deluxe on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

It’s time to celebrate everyone’s favorite space saga, A Star War, which we have seen. Surely all people know that there have been many A Star War, but only loyal diehards know that, in fact, there have been exactly 3 truly great A Star War movies. But with so many A Star War, how could someone possibly pick 3 favorites? It’s simple, Padawank. Listen, you will, while we recount the best three A Star War films, which we promise that we’ve seen.

Episode I: The Naughty Phantom

Many have suggested that this might truly be the best A Star War. It might be controversial to suggest that it is merely the third best in what was a perfect prequel trilogy, but while this A Star War contains all of the sex and violence of the previous installments, it is unfortunately somewhat lacking in banthas. This has been the central criticism in what is essentially a truly exceptional A Star War, and why shouldn’t it be? Banthas are beautiful with their large mouths and their herd-like tendencies. Their milk, which is distinctively blue is a welcomed sight for many weary travelers. The story of young Anakin is enthralling and tragic, but nowhere near as tragic as neglecting these large herbivores their due screen time.

Episode II: The Battle for Endor

A Star War: The Battle for Endor is not the best A Star War. But it is indeed very close! In this fanciful film, Anakin engorged with overt feelings of desire and his husband’s bulge, pursues lovemaking with Padme. It is both erotic and mysterious, just as the Lord God intended. But sadly, just as Anakin betrays Padme’s own sexual expectations, there is once again no bantha representation. This is somewhat troubling as banthas, easily domesticated, mate for life. When Sand People marry and enter copulation, their banthas also fuck. This is the hidden way of the bantha, but now you know it to be true. What’s more, should its rider die, their bantha usually perishes shortly after. It is a bond born of passion and blood. A Star War: The Battle for Endor had zero bantha sex and it is why we believe it to only be second best. True fans know that the erotic coupling of banthas is second only to the Max Rebo musical orgy at Jabba’s Love Hutt™. This is non-negotiable.

The Holiday Hoopla

While this is a rare sight to see, it is as elusive as it is truly great. A Star War: The Holiday Hoopla tells the story of a young Polish boy’s journey into adulthood. It has been heralded as a new, more realistic interpretation of the A Star War universe that is rooted in a more relatable narrative. While it is a riveting exploration on the expectations placed on manhood and therein the internal wrestling with our own cultural history of toxic masculinity, there are additionally no banthas anywhere in sight in this intimate coming of age tale. There is even a dog in the story which could have easily been a bantha. This would have been a quite simple undertaking narratively as bantha hides can be mashed with grains to make Ardees, also known as Jawa juice. Similarly, they have wide, flat feet with four digits and young banthas are known as calves. A Star War: The Holiday Hoopla could have easily been a gentle reminder that if a bantha died before its rider, its remains were placed in a large graveyard, which was treated with great respect by Tuskens and other banthas. For this reason, it is the best A Star War, but nowhere near as best as it could have been had banthas been involved.

It’s A Star War! was originally published in Super Team Deluxe on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

In stumbling through what has to have been my umpteenth compendium of “Leading Creative Professionals”, I think I finally hit a point where the sameness of this list or that list all came to a head.

Bullet point after bullet point of the same coverage compiling a high school year book’s worth of favoritism. To be sure, there are a number of those on these lists that I, myself, would consider a leader in their own respects; demonstrating leadership opportunities both locally and remote and encouraging this industry and its creative professionals. But that had me thinking about the criteria we use when it comes to the leadership nomenclature. What makes a leader? And why do so many of the current design “leaders” seem to be so similar? And are some perhaps not offering leadership so much as just good work?

The idea of “leading” designers can be problematic because oftentimes there’s an implicit correlation with “following”. As if the number of people that “follow” a social media account is a direct qualifier for who gets to be a Leading Designer. But let’s be honest here: there’s an inherent bias in the task of who we deem “leading” by aligning it with the imaginary social currency.

This is concerning for a number of reasons. Not the least of which: Conduct should be weighed in “leadership”. We’re declaring to those that follow our content that these are the individuals worthy of your attention and your following. And for one reason or another, they may be! But I believe there’s a systemic issue with our industry pandering towards those with a following while sweeping under the rug some of the more conflicting, uncomfortable behaviors. A “good designer” may put out great work, but is their conduct towards others just as inspirational? Are they intentional about breathing encouragement and actual demonstrable leadership into this industry? Or are they more concerned with planting their flag in their corner of the internet or style of choice and barking at everyone else to get off their lawn? Should so-called design leaders also be judged on their character?

And let’s be clear about something: Our character doesn’t have to be judged by one bad thing we do or one misstep we’ve previously taken coming back to haunt us again and again. I, just as much as anyone, would fail this test and will continue to make an alarming amount of mistakes and more-than-questionable behavioral choices. These individuals don’t have to be defined by these grievances, but without the intent to change those more distressing propensities, they become problematic in our elevating of their work. While perhaps it’s not difficult to separate an individual’s work from their conduct, maybe it should be. These behaviors don’t have to be so big as to be at the “scandal” level. I’m thinking more about how we lead and conduct ourselves with others — both old and new to this industry: Everything from encouragement and critique to inclusion.

But while we don’t have to be judged by our worst, systemic problematic behaviors can and likely should invalidate us from being seen as a leader. Turning a blind eye to conduct to appreciate the work is a decision you could make, but isn’t one you probably should.

We should be covering individuals who actually want to see growth and progress collectively more so than seeing others as competition; those offering critique instead of merely judgment. Are those with a following leveraging it for good or self-indulgence?

Ask yourself if those that you’re propping up are similarly propping others up or tearing them down?

Leadership is more than amassing a following on a given social network. People “Follow” social profiles for any number of reasons: Maybe someone looks and thinks like you. Maybe they make you laugh and you could use a good chuckle throughout the day. Maybe you appreciate their work, know little else about them, and this is an attempt to get to know the individual behind the work.

Whatever the reason, followings happen for any number of decisions. One does not necessarily dictate the other. Likewise, not everyone is afforded the opportunity or promised a large following regardless of the quality of their work and/or character.

There are also a number of designers who have little to no social media engagement, but are both influential in their work as well as their leadership (albeit at a smaller scale). Some are just now beginning to have others take notice, others just aren’t as interested in social loot. But their work and their leadership can be influential; many of those you don’t even know the name of, but their work continues to lay the foundation for modern influential design. Some are leading on a local level, but that outreach is infectious and spreading. These unsung heroes are worth tracking down and bringing out of the shadows (if they so desire) more so than the tenth feature this month on the same designer with the same thing to say to the same people. If you’re influential in your content distribution, broaden your audience’s horizons with more than just those at “the top” of the social spectrum.

It’s also problematic because we frequently align ourselves with those who look and think like we do. It’s why who we put on these lists is just as important as those we leave off. It’s why conferences historically were dominated by a single archetypical speaker. It’s noticeably easier to amass a following in an industry if you’re a white male. Before companies and organizers made attempts towards being more intentional about bringing diversity into the speaking circuit, much of the landscape was dominated by sameness in both persona and content delivery; the same 5 steps towards success — so long as you look like this and behave like this.

There’s a sliding scale of opportunities that have historically been offered to those of differing genders, ethnicities, backgrounds, and orientations. Leadership in both the social and professional world can be more hard-fought for those that don’t fit the archetypical white male mold. Art that departs from the flavor of the week doesn’t get covered as often. Provocative work can be more difficult to circulate than that which is agnostically comfortable and validating. I know this to be true, because there’s admittedly still a pang of discomfort at times when “male” is brought up. And there likely should be! We should feel the disquiet — be empathetic towards what it’s like to walk in another’s shoes that aren’t our own.

These “Leading” misconceptions bring with them the baggage of an elite group of individuals that further separates them from the rest of us. All afforded different opportunities for any number of reasons.

Are the attitudes of those we tout as leaders that of inclusion or exclusivity?

Finally, I think intent matters. What’s the actual purpose of your coverage? Is it to prop up those to distribute life advice in the hope that others might achieve something similar? Is it for you to personally be able to talk to your “heroes”? Is it to better align yourself with and to finally personally be known within those most elite of circles?

I believe that the intent of a majority of these isn’t to prop ourselves up, but rather to lean in and learn from those further in their career — which is a noble task. So many creative professionals are deserving of the title of “leader” in any number of circles as their output of work is just as masterful as their offering of leadership and guidance within this community. But I’d be more encouraging towards demonstrating heightened discretion when it comes to proposing leaders in design and otherwise.

I want to be clear that this isn’t to instigate a witch hunt to find and remove any and all offenders at any point in time of leadership panache. This also isn’t to call out any one designer and drag them for being less than stellar. It’s my own wrestling with how leadership is defined and an encouragement for us to ask for more when it comes to defining what’s expected from those we deem leaders. This also isn’t an dismissal of the concept of “leaders”, but rather a suggested scrutiny for those that we do choose to classify as such. It’s a call to encourage those with a following to use it for goodness, grace, and support for a community that is so often characterized by petty name-calling and a clique mentality. There’s enough room at this table for any number of well-intentioned meaningful creatives to do this work together and make this workspace inclusive and empowering if only we’re willing to hold ourselves and those we prop up to a standard that’s deserving of the title “leader”.