I’m making progress on the backgrounds. Excluding the time spent baking lightmaps for testing, it feels like it takes about a day to complete one theme. For now, I’m focusing on quickly establishing the bigger picture, leaving the details for later. Hopefully, with a high-end computer someday, I can work without having to bake lightmaps and check everything in real-time.
It’s the same story every time—if I get too ambitious and add too much, it becomes messy and overwhelming. But if I strip too much away, it feels barren. I constantly remind myself to control the ideas overflowing from my mind; otherwise, I fear it might turn out like the prologue again.
When working on a game, especially on backgrounds, I often find myself wishing for a game engine that’s fully integrated with AI. Something that allows games to be created with simple sketches and text, just like writers compose novels or artists draw comics. The idea of making episodic games within a set timeframe, like serialized works, always appeals to me. It reminds me of the early 1980s when a single developer in a cubicle worked alone on two Apple II computers to create games. Writers don’t need to invent typewriters or paper, and comic artists don’t need to build computers or tablets—that’s how it should be.
I sometimes feel tired and exhausted while working or doing other labor in dreams. Last night, I dreamed I was cleaning trash off a wealthy family’s terrace when I found a small picture frame with a photo of the president inside. Annoyed, I threw the frame into a massive muddy stream flowing in front of the house. Then, I got on a bus to head home, but there was no one on the bus—not even a driver or a driver’s seat. I ran to where the driver’s seat should be to stop the bus, but instead of a seat, there was a vast field stretching into the horizon or a refreshing street glistening with rain. It’s too long to recount everything that happened afterward, but it left me with a lot to think about.