From the White Paper to Now, a Neon District Story
I look at the thumbnail photo used for our announcement post in Medium. Seven of Neon District’s brooding and capable characters gaze out from over the city scape. In my asset folder I’ve nicknamed this one, “The A-Team.” If I was ever stuck in a misty, cyberpunk dystopia, I’d want these guys to have my back.
It’s been a little over 3 months since Marguerite, Ben, and I scrambled to get our whitepaper together. There it was, proof that this little gem of an idea had a real foundation to stand on. A declaration of creativity, complete with a rose-colored road map. I understand that the majority of whitepapers are little more than copypasta marketing documents, but we were determined to be different. You can call that rose-colored as well, but I can’t see our team losing that kind of uncool sincerity any time soon. Every time someone tells me they’ve read it I start grinning from ear to ear, like a 3rd grader who’s just won the school science fair.
Nothing is ever as easy as you think it’s going to be. We analyzed the gameplay, we rearranged its parts, and we practically burnt the whole thing down before finding those perfect embers. I recently read a comment on twitter that building a creative project remotely is bad for one’s mental health. I’d like to argue this point, but currently there’s a 3-pound bag of dehydrated cereal marshmallows hiding in my kitchen.
Detour # 1: Pineapple Arcade
I have a feeling that being Marguerite means stumbling into experiences that most would call “unordinary.” So, when she texted us in early February to say, “The anonymous funder of the Pineapple Foundation wants to donate money for crypto puzzles and prizes, and they’d like to build some of it too,” we said yes. The only answer to something like that is yes. It’s the Bitcoin equivalent of being called and told you’re a distantly related princess with a kingdom to save.
After a month of frenzied work, we opened the arcade on March 14th. Pi day. The arcade features Diego’s beautiful artwork, arcade style games hidden within the arcade machines, a magical graffiti wall (if you can find it,) and dozens of hidden puzzles with even more hidden prizes. There’s also a surly, puzzle-loving discord group, if you want to take the red pill.
Detour #2: SXSW
At some point in every start up where one of the members lives in Austin, TX, that member will shout, “Y’all should c’mon down for SXSW!” (That member was me.) So, they did. SX is a good place to forget what your goals are, even if you made a comprehensive list and RSVP’d to everything ahead of time. We passed out a lot of stickers, drank some, networked, drank some, had heated debates about the intersection of crypto and games, drank some more, stood in lines while most likely drinking and debating, met some really awesome people, planned for the future, and went home. A week later it was off to San Francisco for GDC.
Detour #3: GDC
Much like the downhill hell of poison ivy I purchased alongside my home in 2012, cryptogames seem to draw in the bravest or most naïve of souls. The gaming industry spits out indie games and startups about as fast as zombies in a first-person shooter. Not only that, it’s pretty clear we’ve got a way to go before mainstream adoption of cryptogames can even be considered. I suppose there are two options. Conform, smile and nod, or run in with your underwear on your head shouting, “I have none of your failure trauma, and I’m going to make connections that confuse and disturb you!”
GDC was both terrifying and inspiring. Unlike SXSW’s drink and network-a-thon, we spent a lot of time at GDC going to sessions and soaking up as much knowledge as we could. The things we didn’t know became more and more obvious. However, as the week plowed on, the most profound realization came to light. To echo Benny Giang’s review of GDC this year, “game designers don’t fully understand crypto, and crypto heads don’t know how to build games.” Which is so frustrating, and so unfortunately true. (Imagine when I’m saying “so” I’m letting the o’s go on for way too long and waving my arms around in a belabored manner.) But they do go together! They’re like peanut butter and jelly or cheese and crackers! We just have to work together and actually listen! On slack…and telegram….and google hangouts….
One of the highlights of the week was the crypto games dinner on Wednesday night. We broke bread with new friends and talked about our common endeavors. I met folks from Enjin, Parsec Frontiers, Spells of Genesis, Cryptokitties, BitGuild, Alto, and others. All of us, building something so similar to each other but so different from the rest. We’re still small and need the village.
We came home exhausted; physically, mentally, and spiritually. We still had a game to build.
Sometimes it’s easier to keep reviewing the options at hand than to make a decision. Sometimes this is an easy way to avoid making a decision. Hard work came in April. Hard decisions, long hours, and stressful conversations about what the future should hold. April reminded me that the things I love will sometimes feel like work, sometimes find me crying into my Rosé, and sometimes leave me buying 3 pounds of dehydrated cereal marshmallows from Amazon because the only thing I could control in my life at the moment was the ratio of cereal to marshmallow in my Lucky Charms.
But things change and come together. We’ve made decisions. We’re learning the skills it takes to work together with a remote team and publish product on schedule. We’re communicating with members of other games and platforms to share what’s working and what isn’t. Technical solutions to some of our most troubling roadblocks are coming forward. We’re at the precipice of creating ways to play and experience life that we’ve only imagined. There’s bound to be bad days, but I think it’s going to be pretty cool.
This is only the beginning ~ Courtney
