Did you know it takes about 20 minutes for your brain to sink into a flow state? Of course you do… I just told you.

What sucks is, stepping out of flow is far easier than stepping back in.

I learned that the hard way this week while writing dialogue for my novel, Luna and the Bridge of Hearts.

I had one solid hour to write, which is my usual window if I wake up early enough. The scene was set. Luna the bear and Olai the owl were in the middle of one of their ‘tough conversation.’ It went beautifully. The characters were alive in my head, I was embodying their personalities, their hopes, their fears. Their voices came naturally, like overhearing two friends argue across the room. But then the bell rang and I had to stop.

The next day, I sat back down to continue from where I left off… and it was like watching my characters through a fogged-up window.

I could still make out the outlines of who they were, but the clarity was gone. It took me 20 minutes just to warm up, and even then the spark wasn’t the same. Yesterday I was with them. Today I was just trying to type their lines.

What struck me is how fragile flow can be. It isn’t just about showing up apparently. It’s about showing up at the right temperature, when your creative engine is already humming.

‘Dialogue writing’, especially, seems to depend on momentum.

For me, it works best when I write the whole scene in one stretch. That way, I stay immersed in my characters’ voices without losing the thread. Not always possible with real-life schedules, but whenever I can, I have decided to aim for it.

The silver lining is… I still managed to finish today’s session and reached the point where the real conflict is about to break out. Even though it was not a satisfactory day, this win reminded me that even a clumsy day can push the story forward, and that counts.

I’m EarlyOwl — a UX Engineer who dabbles in 3D art, game design, and app development. Right now, I’m writing my debut novel, Luna and the Bridge of Hearts, and logging the entire messy, therapeutic process in real time — the ups, the downs, and everything in between.

Threads | Instagram | Bluesky

Have you ever frozen up trying to start a tough conversation?
I do too… and by extension, so do my characters.

Today’s writing session dropped me right into one of those moments.
Luna, the large moon bear, and the start of my novel — Luna and the Bridge of Hearts — has made a mistake.

Don’t ask me what it is. NO SPOILERS HERE!

But the weight of the mistake hangs over her. She knows she needs to apologize to Olai, but I couldn’t figure out how she would start their conversation.

Olai, by the way is an owl, who unfortunately has fear of heights.

Here’s the complication…

It sounds so small, doesn’t it? She can simply say, “Olai, I am sorry.” and get going. But that didn’t feel right. The tension at this moment was thick. Luna was rattled by the chaos unfolding around her, and Olai was still processing the fallout of what had just been revealed. They were both in their own heads, miles apart in mood and focus, and clearly not on the same page.

I had pages of notes mapping out their back-and-forth. I knew the beats. I even knew who would speak first — Luna. But how she’d start? Blank.

She couldn’t just say, “Hey, so… that happened. Crazy, right?”

That’s not her. Also, Olai wouldn’t respond well to a flippant joke, which Luna is aware.

Somewhere in that frustration, I realized this felt… familiar.

I struggle to apologize too — even with my partner. Especially with my partner. Even when I know it’s my fault.

So it got me thinking, how would I handle such a situation with my spouse?

In these moments, my awkwardness really shines. I tend to hang back, keeping a safe distance, and when I finally approach, I don’t immediately start explaining.

My first move is always to check — does she even want to hear what I have to say? I need to test the waters before I wade in.

That was the breakthrough.

Luna wouldn’t jump straight in either. She’d circle the moment, pick something safe to say first. Olai, still guarded, would shut her down with silence. She’d try again, maybe shift to a different topic, hoping he would at least give a grunt, but he’d keep his guard up. And only after a few awkward beats would the real conversation begin.

I could see it so clearly — her hesitation, his closed-off body language, the thick air between them. And suddenly, the scene fell in place.

This was one of those rare times I was genuinely grateful for my awkwardness. All the hesitations and fumbled openers I’ve lived through became the perfect reference point, helping Luna’s scene land with all the real, cringey tension it needed.

With that piece cracked…

I continued writing the scene, letting their hesitant back-and-forth unfold more naturally. It’s not finished yet — and I’m sure there are plenty more challenges waiting for me in the chapters ahead, but at least I’ve stepped over this particular hurdle.

Here’s hoping I wrangle this wild story into shape before 2025 waves goodbye. Send some claps and encouragement!

I’m EarlyOwl — a UX Engineer who dabbles in 3D art, game design, and app development. Right now, I’m writing my debut novel, Luna and the Bridge of Hearts, and logging the entire messy, therapeutic process in real time — the ups, the downs, and everything in between.

Threads | Instagram | Bluesky

Fast-forward to now, and… nothing. Every one of those “brilliant” ideas has evaporated.

Liar.

A bit about me…

I’m a UX Engineer by day, but I love side projects with fewer rules — from 3D doodles of orange aliens to mobile games and small software tools.

Right now, I’m deep into a new craft: writing my debut novel, Luna and the Bridge of Hearts. Two years in, 80% drafted, and logging the messy, therapeutic process as I go

So here’s the situation in the story.

I’ve got three main characters: Luna the bear, Olai the owl, and Kobo the monkey.

At this point in the book, they’re split across different floors of a building. Luna and Olai are stuck on the third floor. Kobo’s all the way up on the fifth. One of them is being interrogated.

The plan, back when I remembered it, was to eventually get them all together in the same room for a big, important scene. But before that happens, they each have important, separate conversations that need to happen in isolation. So they can’t just be thrown together without a good reason.

And the “good reason” was exactly what I forgot.

That’s the trouble with long breaks. You lose momentum, and those “obvious” ideas that felt unforgettable just vanish. Suddenly, it’s like starting from scratch, except you know you’ve solved this puzzle before, and you can’t remember how.

So I sat down and did what I did when I first outlined this book a year ago:

• I brainstormed.
• I filled pages with possibilities… some exciting, some extremely ridiculous.
• I crossed out the ones that felt flat, kept the one that clicked.

So what did I learn from all this

1. Leave notes for your future self — Even if an idea feels too obvious to forget, write it down. Your brain is a terrible long-term storage system for fleeting thoughts. Jot down every idea, big or small, and revisit them regularly. You’ll thank yourself later.
2. Avoid long breaks if you can — Sometimes breaks are unavoidable, and that’s fine. But in my case, even 10 minutes every other day would have kept me connected to my novel. Staying in touch with the work makes everything easier when you return.

The good news is, I have a plan again. The path to bringing the characters together is clear (for now), and I’m back to writing. My goal is to finish Luna and the Bridge of Hearts and release it by the end of 2025.

I’m EarlyOwl — a UX Engineer who dabbles in 3D art, game design, and app development. Right now, I’m writing my debut novel, Luna and the Bridge of Hearts, and logging the entire messy, therapeutic process in real time — the ups, the downs, and everything in between.

Ever catch yourself sitting completely still for hours, eyes glued to your desktop, without so much as a stretch or a step? Yeah, me too. As a UX Engineer, I’m all about creating great experiences, but sometimes I need to create a great experience for myself: one that reminds me to actually take a break!

So, I set out to build a super simple, no-fuss timer app. My grand vision? Something that lives locally on my desktop, doesn’t need a fancy complicated server, just counts down and yells at me when it’s time to stretch. Simple. Right? Well…

I had some HTML and CSS knowledge from the jQuery days (yes, I’m dating myself here), but the modern development landscape felt like a foreign country. Which framework should I choose? What’s the “easiest” way to build something simple that runs locally without any server complexity?

AI seemed like the perfect guide to navigate this maze. At least it could give me a “vibe” for what might work best, right?

My first instinct was to go native. I figured if I built this with WPF, WinUI, or UWP, I could make the app run in the background without cluttering my desktop with visible windows. And even though I didn’t know the ins and outs of those frameworks, I didn’t have to worry because AI was right there with me. Seemed logical enough.

But then I hit my first major roadblock with UWP. I wanted the app to minimize to the system tray — a pretty basic feature, or so I thought. I went through the usual dance: ask AI for code, manually copy and paste, test, report back when it doesn’t work. It was like chatting with a really smart friend who happened to be incredibly dumb about some very basic things. (I know, I know… there are better ways to do vibe coding, but I didn’t have all the necessary things setup. So I opted for the cumbersome route. After all, it was supposed to be a simple app. How much code does it really need?)

I cycled through ChatGPT, Gemini, and Claude, trying different approaches. Nothing worked. After three days of this back and forth with no progress, a tiny seed of doubt sprouted: “Can this even be done in UWP?”

It said: “Nope. Not natively, at least.”

Argghhh. Three days of my life, gone.

Lesson #1: AI Doesn’t Know What It Doesn’t Know

Sometimes AI gets caught in a logic loop, yo-yoing between so-called solutions to the problems that actually don’t work. When you notice this ping-pong pattern of suggestions, that’s your cue to step back and question the fundamental approach. Don’t let it waste your time like it did mine.

After that frustrating detour, I abandoned the project for a while. But eventually, I circled back with a simpler approach: why not just use good old HTML and CSS? I just needed a timer to get me out of my chair, after all.

I decided to test the “all-in” approach: I dumped my entire vision — A through Z — into the AI prompt, clicked generate and copied its output into separate HTML, CSS, and JavaScript files. I ran it with a hopeful “Phew,” only to watch everything fail spectacularly. (I am building a simple app, am I not?)

Frustrated but undeterred, I switched gears.

This time, I opted for incremental progress. I asked for a single HTML file containing inline CSS and JavaScript (easy to copy, paste) and to create 2 timers for me, that runs back to back. One for focused work, the other for breaks. And this time The AI returned a working prototype! Voila — first Win!

Then I asked for a settings page to customize each timer. That worked too.

Then I requested button and label changes based on which timer was active. Hattrick!

Step by step, feature by feature, everything was falling into place.

Lesson #2: Step-by-Step Beats All-in-One

Building incrementally feels like a much better approach for complex projects. (I know, I know… what I am building is not complex but hey, it is all relative!) You stay in control of the architecture, and as someone who isn’t a seasoned developer, with experience of deciphering other people’s code, it’s way more digestible. I knew exactly where each piece of code lived and what it was responsible for.

Gradually, I asked AI to polish things up: better cohesion, background gradients, animations, a dark theme, and specific sound effects. The app was actually becoming something I enjoyed using.

Keep in mind, by this point it was just a web app running in a browser. And soon I encountered a strange problem. (Strange to me. Expert developers would have anticipated it miles ahead.)

Every time my timer web app lost focus, it froze in its tracks after 60 seconds, refusing to tick again until I clicked back into the window. It turns out browser’s background-throttling wizardry pauses tasks it deems inactive. It’s pretty common among all modern browsers apparently. And yet none of the AI assistants mentioned this limitation upfront. I spent several back-and-forth sessions with ChatGPT, Gemini, and Claude to uncover the culprit. (Fun fact: Claude usually rescues me from these rabbit holes more than the others.))

Lesson #3: AI is an Excellent but Lazy Teacher

AI is an incredible teacher, but it’s not in any rush to share everything upfront. It understood exactly what I was trying to build, yet it didn’t flag the background-timer freeze until I pointed it out. I’m grateful it eventually walked me through adding a manifest and service worker, but this taught me that AI often waits for the right prompt before revealing its best insights.

Around this time, I got access to a new toy — ChatGPT Codex. I decided to integrate my project with it by putting my codebase on GitHub, which itself was another new thing that I learned.

I asked what it thought about my project. It took about two minutes to analyze everything, then gave me a comprehensive summary of the features, which boosted my confidence in the tool.

It even suggested improvements and listed bugs to fix. Some “bugs” weren’t really bugs (like having HTML, CSS, and JavaScript in one file), but when I said “fine, go for it,” it split the files and cleaned up the structure.

I then identified logical issues: the workout routine reset on every launch instead of once per session, the settings screen felt cluttered, and sometimes the timer wouldn’t display correctly. I’d request a fix, explaining the edge cases where it didn’t work as intended. I would leave it to run, switch back to my UX work, and return an hour later to find changes completed in about five minutes. I got new sounds, smarter break scheduling, volume controls, and clearer messaging.

The workflow itself was tedious: push branch, merge with main, resolve conflicts, pull, test, repeat. And even then, specific tweaks sometimes required multiple rounds. For example, fixing what seemed like a simple UI alignment issue took five iterations. I wondered, why can’t it fix it the first time. Can’t it see how horrible it looked? But then of course, it can’t see… yet!

Lesson #4: You’re Still the Quality Assurance

Even with advanced tools like ChatGPTs Codex, finding edge cases and ensuring features actually work properly still rests with you. I can’t rely on AI to tell me if it did the job well. That’s why the step-by-step approach still feels like the sweet spot — I stay in control instead of dealing with a runaway machine I can’t understand.

The Final Result

So there you have it — my journey building a “WorkOut Break” app with AI as my coding companion. It’s nothing fancy, just a simple HTML, CSS, and JavaScript app that does exactly what I needed: keeps me from becoming a permanent fixture in my chair.

The experience taught me that AI is an incredibly powerful tool for learning and building, but it works best when you stay engaged, ask the right questions, and maintain control over the process. It’s not magic, but it’s pretty close when used thoughtfully.

Now if you’ll excuse me, my timer just went off, and it’s time for some jumping jacks.

Nobody likes being complained about. But that was my norm growing up.

My dad was in the Indian Air Force, and everyone admired him for his perfectionism. Naturally, I was super proud and wanted to be just like him (still do!). But striving for perfection has its downsides and boy, am I living proof of that! I got so used to criticism that anything less than perfect just felt… wrong.

Fast forward to my college days — I was studying Mechanical Engineering, but secretly moonlighting in visual design. There weren’t any mentors to guide me in design, just friends and professors who were mostly all praises. It was only when I stepped into the professional world that I started getting the real deal — unfiltered, professional feedback. But I loved it. I was all about soaking up that feedback and improving.

Then came the Elon Musk phase (ah, those fanboy days!). His philosophy — assume you’re wrong to be less wrong — just clicked with me.

I got really good at taking feedback. I didn’t make them personal. Whether it was from a seasoned pro giving me precise critiques or someone less experienced with vague comments, I learned to dig deeper and understand their perspective.

I was on a mission to be less wrong, both in my professional and personal life. Good strategy… right?

Unfortunately, not everyone thinks so. I learned it the hard way after upsetting some very close people to me without having a clue of what I was doing wrong.

We all have different ways of dealing with feedback, influenced by our experiences and personal beliefs. Some folks see it as a stepping stone to improvement, while others find certain feedback undermines their expertise. It can be a big blow to their self-confidence.

And how many people can really claim they are perfect at articulating their thoughts into words? I’m definitely guilty of miscommunicating to my spouse, my friends, and my parents repeatedly, and also misunderstanding the received critique.

It is easy it is to call someone clumsy for spilling water, or lazy for forgetting something. But, one should remember —

We’re all swimming in a sea of negativity already.

People are constantly facing online criticism, dealing with their own self-doubts, and let’s not even get started on the state of the world. Do you sincerely wish to contribute to that pile of negativity? Not cool, especially when it’s people we care about — our family, friends, partners, even coworkers.

So here’s a thought: Let’s be the ones who spread positivity. Think about it. When someone makes a mistake, they’re probably already beating themselves up inside. Do we need to pile on? Or can we be the ones who help them smile, and feel a bit better about themselves?

I say, let’s turn up the compliment game.

Your friend lends you their car? Shower them with heartfelt thanks.

Mom brews a killer cup of coffee? Make her day with some genuine praise.

Partner whips up a semi-burnt but tasty cake? Tell them it’s the best thing ever and how lucky you are to have them.

But be sincere — it’s crucial.

Over-complimenting isn’t about laying it on thick; it’s about finding more of those moments to genuinely make someone feel great.

And when it comes to critiquing, keep it specific and never personal. Try to see the intention behind the action. It helps in giving constructive feedback without denting the person’s spirit.

Critique the deed, not the doer.

It’s all about helping them grow without feeling attacked.

Remember, a genuine compliment can turn someone’s day around. And hey, it feels pretty good to be the reason someone smiles, right? Let’s make that our mission. Let’s be the light in someone’s day, not the cloud.

As someone who loves to pack my day with activities, staying healthy is key. This simple change has really made a difference for me.

An easy tip to follow:

Dinner before 7 pm. It’s easy, effective, and doctor-approved!

Full disclosure: I’m no health expert. This little nugget of wisdom comes straight from my doctor.

Turns out that having dinner early gives your stomach plenty of time to digest before bedtime. This means better sleep and a happier tummy.

That is all…

… well there was this one more thing…

Have a light stroll after having food… just don’t overdo it!

If you push too hard, your body switches gears from digesting that delicious pizza to powering your muscles. Plus, a full stomach isn’t a fan of too much jostling — let’s not give it a turbulent flight.

That is all… Have a… oh wait, there was one more thing!

Stop eating before you feel full.

Apparently, our tummy likes it if there’s a little space left in it to do its magic. And like the early 2000s international calls, there’s a bit of delay in sending the “Stomach full” signal to the brain. If you wait for the signal, you’ll end up overeating. And you don’t want that… trust me!

And that’s a wrap!

Keep it light, eat early, and enjoy a little post-food walk. Have a fantastic day!

That show was my lightbulb moment — the moment I realized my inner voice wasn’t just a mental notepad for grocery lists and chemistry formulas. It was more like a live commentary of my life.

Fast forward a bit, and I’m realizing my brain is like a quirky sitcom with two main characters.

First, meet the ‘Sage’ — my inner philosopher, doling out wisdom like free samples at a grocery store. Helps me navigate the complexities of life… like people, religion, empathy.

Then there was the ‘Monkey’ voice — like a a caffeinated squirrel on a sugar rush — impulsive, reactive, always ready to jump into action without a moment’s pause. It usually chills in the background, but the moment it smells a hint of trouble, it’s like, “Hold my banana; I got this.” But, most of the time, its ‘help’ lands me in a facepalm situation.

I’m not your textbook ‘nice guy’. Snappy, irritable, mood swings — you name it, I’ve been there. My go-to scapegoat? Mr. Monkey Mind.

I always figured if my inner primate could just chill for a sec and chat with the Sage, maybe I wouldn’t end up putting my foot in my mouth so often.

But then, I stumbled upon a quote by Tony Robbins that made me rethink everything:

‘The quality of our lives is directly proportional to the quality of our questions.’

It dawned on me that maybe, just maybe, I was being a tad unfair to my inner Monkey. Was it possible that this impulsive part of me was merely reacting to the narrative I’d been spinning?

I realized I’d been serving my Sage a junk-food diet of whiny questions:

‘Why is life so unfair to me?’

‘Why does everyone misunderstand me?’

‘Why does my toast always land butter-side down?’

No wonder my Monkey was always on edge, ready to pounce at the slightest hint of trouble.

So, what if I switched things up?

Instead of asking ‘Why is this happening to me?’, I could ask ‘What can I do to improve this situation?’.

Instead of wondering why everyone misunderstands me, I could explore how I could communicate better.

It’s about shifting from a ‘Why me?’ mentality to a ‘What can I do about it?’ approach. It’s about swapping the ‘Woe is me’ playlist for a ‘Let’s fix this’ jam.

A small shift in the questions to the Sage might just be the nudge my Monkey needs to swap its boxing gloves for a detective cap. It could give me that precious moment to respond thoughtfully rather than react impulsively — a few seconds to think before I do my usual verbal cannonball.

This isn’t about lying to myself that everything’s peachy. It’s not about fooling myself into believing life’s all rainbows and butterflies.

It’s about asking better questions — upgrading my internal Q&A sessions, ones that empower the Sage and pacify the Monkey.

It’s a small tweak in my inner dialogue, but who knows? It might just be the change that guides me to act with more wisdom and less regret.

So here I am, ready to give my internal sitcom a new plot twist. Maybe, just maybe, this could be the beginning of fewer facepalms and more high-fives in my mind’s wacky adventures.

Rewind to my college days — the unofficial graphic designer of the campus. Whether it was posters for theatre events, cultural fests, or even T-shirt designs, that was me.

My work was everywhere, yet something crucial was missing from each piece — my name.

I believed leaving my name off was a sign of humility. “It’s about the fest, not me,” I’d argue, even when friends and professors nudged me to claim my work. I wore my anonymous artist hat like a badge of honor, oblivious to the opportunities slipping by.

But hey, I was the ‘humble guy,’ right?

Fast forward a decade. Here I am, a seasoned Product Designer and UX Engineer, still playing the humble card. I’ve probably missed out on promotions, recognition, even salary bumps — but who’s keeping score? I wanted to believe that I was above the chase for credit, content with doing great work in the shadows.

“I’m not one of those praise-hungry folks,” I’d tell myself, but was I really that different?

The truth was I still craved recognition. I just didn’t want to seem drooling for it.

I was content playing the humble guy, as long as a trickle of credit found its way to me — no matter how sparse or delayed. I remained oblivious to this internal conflict, until it inevitably found its way into my personal life and started to hurt my mental health.

The illusion I’d built around myself started to crack when my passion project, a video game I poured years into, went unnoticed. The harsh world of marketing and audience apathy hit me hard. I felt cheated, unrecognized.

This was followed by a stint in social media, where hours vanished into crafting content that barely gratified me. It started as a self-branding effort but quickly turned into a voracious time-eater, devouring moments I yearned to spend on my true passions — crafting games, apps, and stories. With each post, a piece of my authentic self seemed to fade, and the recognition I sought remained just out of reach.

But the real wake-up call came watching my wife, once a whirlwind of joy and energy, spiral into depression. I was no stranger to the ebb and flow of depression, but facing her depression was a battle I felt ill-equipped for.

I tried, with all my might, to be accommodating, encouraging, supportive — but my resolve would waver within days. The realization that my own life was being overshadowed in this process added layers of complexity and guilt, especially when my frustrations unintentionally deepened her struggles.

In my mind, I had always aspired to be her steadfast rock, her unwavering support system. Yet, the reality was starkly different. The challenges weren’t Herculean; they were in the minutiae, the everyday sacrifices and adjustments that, cumulatively, felt like moving mountains.

During this turbulent phase, a sense of isolation crept in. I yearned for someone to acknowledge my sacrifices, to understand my side of the story. There was this gnawing loneliness, a feeling of being unappreciated and unsupported, even as I tried to support her.

I was not getting any credit!

It was in this whirlpool of emotions that I faced a tough realization —

My version of humility was a façade.

True humility, I learned, isn’t about diminishing your voice but about thinking less of yourself for the sake of others. It’s a concept I’d read about and thought I understood, but living it was a different ballgame altogether. It meant making decisions that weren’t about what I wanted or needed in the moment, but what was best for us, as a couple.

Adopting this mindset wasn’t an overnight transformation. It meant reprogramming years of ingrained habits and thoughts. But the change was profound.

Each time I set aside my plans for her, it wasn’t with a sense of loss or irritation but with a focus on how I could be a pillar for her. This shift in perspective wasn’t just about supporting her; it was a journey towards genuine selflessness and contentment.

As I shed my misconceived notions of humility, I also began to see how I had unknowingly burdened my other endeavors with hefty expectations. This awareness brought a newfound clarity — managing expectations more realistically, acknowledging that… it’s okay to hope for returns, but with honesty and openness.

This shift in mindset, though subtle, played a significant role in easing the pressures I had imposed on myself. It’s a more honest way of navigating both my personal and professional worlds, and it has been surprisingly liberating for my mental health.

My ambitions didn’t disappear; they just found a new rhythm, a balance where I could be true to myself and be there for her. I’m learning, each day, to focus less on ‘me’.

It’s a continuous journey, one where I’m slowly but surely finding a deeper sense of fulfillment and happiness.

Hellooooooo! Welcome to the 29th week of my game development journey…

It’s been 5 weeks since my last update. Quite a lot has happened since then… It involved a lovely vacation in the snowy mountains to the north of India. Still, more importantly, I finally got a clear direction for the game’s mechanics and story.

Now here’s the thing… I started developing the game about 6 months ago, and it took me 5 months to figure out the game I wanted to make.

So why did I start building the game without having a clear direction?

To avoid the Blank Canvas Paralysis.

I only had a vague idea about the game I wanted to make. It was going to be about adventure, exploration, and a little bit of combat. I had better clarity on the story but wasn’t sure how it would jell with the gameplay. I was toiling with this idea for more than a year in my head. But after the initial inspiration, I wasn’t making much progress.

So I decided to put the first stroke to the canvas… that is to say, I started working on the game even when I only had a vague sense of the game I wanted to make.

Did it work?

Yup! I have created many small mobile games earlier, but this is my first big project. It has been a fantastic experience. I learned a ton — the need for a clean code, how to organize your project for scalability, good code conventions, game design patterns, and so much more.

But the most important thing I gained was the direction I wanted to take the game in. Once I had a basic version working with a few mechanics, I could playtest and get a feel of it. The more time I spent with it, the more ideas emerged. I could test many more ideas and discover different ways to make various mechanics interact with each other.

In the last few weeks, I have generated so many new and concrete ideas about the game mechanics, story, the setting, the characters… I finally know what the game is going to be about.

Great! Then what’s the problem?

The problem is I have not been able to implement my new ideas. And that’s because the existing code base would become a mess if I try to implement them in the current state.

I realized that I had spent way too much time than necessary for optimizing the project. I was planning how to structure all the data about powerups and enemies without knowing for sure what the powerups and enemies would be. Those ideas kept changing, and I had to do many revisions. I am sure there’s nothing wrong with keeping the codes structured, clean, and well organized, but that means I spent more time refactoring than writing new features. And it took me months to be where I am right now.

And now that I know the game’s needs, I figured that the game I have made was going in a different direction. I could retrofit the new functionalities and features, but then the code will become really noodled up, and it will be incredibly tough to debug when it breaks. (Oh, I am sure it will break at some point. That’s just how software tells us when they are upset with us.)

And I don’t want to start the project from scratch either because — 6 months! I barely get to work a couple of hours in a day, and it took me 6 months to get here. My head spins at the thought of recreating all this…

So what is the takeaway?

Here are my 3 cents about starting a new game project…

1. Just start
2. Be fast, be messy
3. Start fresh again

Yeah… When I start a new project in the future, these are the few things I’ll keep in mind.

Just Start — If the game idea you have in your head is fuzzy, you don’t have to wait till you know it for sure. Just begin the project, and don’t get stuck with the blank canvas. Our human minds can only do so much processing in a vacuum. Put something out there for the brain to see and experience, and it will churn out more ideas.

Be fast, be messy — Right now, you are testing your idea. Don’t bother about optimization as long as it runs in your system. Just do the minimum thing required for your mechanics to work. This way, you’ll not waste time on unnecessary things like optimizing the code or planning game architecture when you don’t even know what the game will be about. The key here is to be fast. Just get it working, test it and repeat until you get that ‘Aha’ moment.

Start fresh again — When you get to know what the game will be about, it’s time to start fresh. That’s why being fast in the previous step is essential. You have figured out your game idea as quickly as possible, and now you can plan out your projects well in the next iteration. Plan out how you will structure all the data because now you know what kind of data you’ll be handling. Now you can spend your precious time making the code clean and scalable and adding all the mechanics and features you want.

So… is that what I am going to do?

No… I am not starting the project from scratch.

I am refactoring the hell out of it.

I would have ideally liked to start from scratch, but there’s just too much to code. After some initial assessment, I realized that I could restructure the project without starting from scratch. The risk of breaking the project is very high… in fact, it’s broken currently. I am gonna need one more week before I fix all the scripts. Then I have to reassign all the Scriptable Objects and the data it’s holding. And finally, I have to reconfigure some of the codes to make them scalable for new features.

That’s when I’ll be able to continue the project.

All this sounds tiring, but I am fully motivated. I am very excited about the newfound direction of the game. And I can’t wait to show it to you all…

That’s it for this week… See you next time.

I wish you the very best!

Originally published at https://www.theearlyowl.com on February 27, 2022.

Early Owl — My 3 Cents on how to start a New Game Project was originally published in Bootcamp on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Hey everyone. Welcome to the 24th week of game development! This week was the ‘Audio Sprint,’ which is meant for working on all the audio-related work. I had added a lot of game interaction in the last few sprints. But they were all working in silent mode, making the game lackluster.

So I decided to use this sprint to add sound effects to all sorts of interaction — UI buttons, player picking up items, spawning new magic weapons, battle mode initiation, enemy’s death, etc.

I had 3 things to do

1. Collect all the sound effects the game needs as of now.
2. Code all the events which triggered the sound to play.
3. Attach all the sound files to their appropriate game events.

But I ended up facing 3 challenges…

1. Finding the best suitable sound effects takes time.

Even at the prototype stage, I have quite a bit of unique interactions that require their own unique sound effects. Finding the right ones which fit your game theme and the overall feel will need you to search, play and test different sound files. Even if you have subscribed to a sound effects library, you still have thousands of files to listen to and pick out the best.

So I decided not to do that at this stage. My aim was to get the playable prototype ready, and when the theme of the game is finalized, I might have to change the sound effects anyways. So instead of meticulously searching FreeSound.org, I swiftly scanned through a sound effects library I already owned and picked up files that were generic and matched their intended purpose. If it somewhat conveyed what was happening during interaction in the game, it was good enough for me.

2. Managing 100s of sound effects in the game

Even at this early stage of development, I have about 30+ sound effect files to work with. And this number is only going to go up. Managing all those could become difficult unless adequately planned. Also, as I am using only temporary sounds, I will have to update all of them in the future. And at that time, I don’t want to check each game object and prefabs to see what sound files are they using and switch them to the new ones one by one.

So I decided to take a different approach. I wanted to have access to all the sound effects in one place. That way, when the time comes to replace some of them, I don’t have to go looking for different game objects.

I created a Scriptable Object holding different sound clips for different game interactions.

Then I changed the code to hold the Audio Collection scriptable object instead of the clip.

This solved the managing problem for the future. And I resumed my work. I continued to import different sound files, coded the triggers for various sound effects, and tested them in the game. That’s when I hit the 3rd Challenge.

3. All the sound effects cannot play at maximum volume.

This might be obvious for many of you, but I was made fully aware of it when 10 different sound effects started playing simultaneously during runtime. All of them playing at max volume blasted my ears off. It was pure noise pollution. And some of the sounds were repeating so often that they got annoying very quickly.

To reduce the noise clutter, I had to make some of the sound effects play at a lower volume than the rest. And to solve the repetition problem, I had to randomize the volume and pitch of the sound files every time it was played. So I did this for those sound effects…

This solved my issues. But again, it created problems for the future when I would replace the audio file. The new one might require different adjustment values, and I’ll be left to hunt the script and tweak the values one by one.

So once again, I went to the Scriptable Object and added a new ‘Sfx’ class and some functions.

This made the trigger code simpler again.

Now, I don’t have to worry about the individual script. I can use the scriptable object to update the sound file and tweak each sound’s volume and pitch settings. While testing the game, I can tweak those settings from the editor itself and make sure they work exactly as I prefer.

Closing thoughts

For a simple game setup, this should do it. But for an adventure game, you would want the sound effects to fade in or out when the player moves towards or away from the source. I haven’t figured that one just yet, but I’ll keep you posted. That’s the task for the next Audio Sprint.

What’s next?

So that was the progress. Next week is the ‘Gameplay Sprint.’ Now that the prototype of basic mechanics is ready, I’ll be trying to build some meaningful and fun levels with it. I have been waiting to create a coherent game level since day 1 of this journey. So I am super excited about it. Can’t wait to share that with you all!

That’s it for this week… See you next time.

I wish you the very best!

Originally published at https://www.theearlyowl.com on January 23, 2022.