June 7, 1989
Incredibly, I turned the game in to QA today. Now the real fun begins. Six weeks to finish the whole thing.
The Apple market is dying. It’s definitely affected the level of enthusiasm for Prince of Persia within the company. No matter how hard I try to convince people that there’s going to be an IBM version, they’re behaving as if there isn’t one. I found out today from Nancy and David that Latricia/Sophie balked at spending $5500 for the box art. After making the rounds and lobbying everyone, I think they’ll OK it, but the whole thing was a really disturbing vote of no-confidence in POP.
Kevin in QA gave me more of the same. When I told him I hoped to ship August 29, he shook his head gravely and said he’s been mandated to put two men full-time on Carmen Sandiego 4 and two on some other product, which leaves no one to test the beta version of POP I handed in today.
It pisses me off.
I shouldn’t be surprised. When has Broderbund ever thrown its weight behind a game? Choplifter, Lode Runner, Karateka all made it on their own, on the strength of good reviews and word-of-mouth.
There’s no one looking out for me, no one to go to bat for POP. Brian is out of town, Sophie is an idiot, and Latricia – despite Doug’s instructions to the contrary – is leaving everything up to Sophie.
I should probably be putting more energy into trying to cultivate these people and work up some enthusiasm for my project; but what with having to actually design and program it (not to mention documentation, box copy, IBM conversion, etc), I just can’t spare the time.
Meanwhile, the IBM conversion, which I need so desperately, has fallen victim to Doug Greene’s angst.
Oh well, it’s a cold cruel world out there. If I’m going to be a movie director someday I’d better learn to deal with it.
June 8, 1989
I don’t think I have it in me to write and direct films. Where is the strength going to come from to persevere, to fight all those battles, when even this current situation with Broderbund – near-ideal as it is – is burning me out? Have I ever had what it takes? Am I losing it? Give me a signal; show me a sign. Where’s the meaning in all this? Nobody cares about the fucking game, not even me. Why am I doing this?
If POP is a hit and the royalties start flowing again and my bank account swells and the fan mail rolls in, will my spirits also soar? What if it’s a dud – if the Apple market is truly dead and the IBM version is delayed and Nintendo doesn’t pan out – will it break my heart? All that wasted work. What will I do next? Will I deal with failure as well as I dealt with success?
Robert’s going off to Yale
Corey’s gone off to Harvard
Doug’s going to cash out
What happens to me when this part of the story is over?
Got to have faith. Faith in my game. Faith in myself. Lighten up. Nobody wants to be around someone who’s stressed out and in the dumps. Got to rise to the occasion. Charm everyone around me with my youthful enthusiasm, unshakeable optimism, etc.
These are 2:30 am thoughts. I know I’ll feel cheerful and serene in the morning if I can just get to sleep. Just shut down my mind and make it through the night.
You can’t talk in your sleep if you can’t sleep.
Oh God, I see why people take sleeping pills.
June 9, 1989
In the morning I put in the stair-climbing, and in the evening, the sword-sheathing.
In between I wandered the halls of Broderbund in search of human interaction, dropped a disk off on Doug’s desk, and ended up demoing the entire first six levels for a group that started out as just Ed Badasov and Sophie K, and expanded to include Rob, Greg Hammond, Henry, and Tom Marcus, about ten people in all. They were wowed. The whole room gasped in unison whenever the little guy had an especially close call. They groaned as one when he bit the dust. They were thrilled by the skeleton and the potions and the swordfighting and the shadow man. Basically, it all works. Hardly one of the touches I’d put in went unappreciated. It was a real vindication of all that effort.
Even Sophie, who knows nothing about games, got excited. She kept saying “This is the first game I’ve seen that I can really get into!” She made a point of telling me, not once but twice, that she’s given Nancy the go-ahead to hire the “expensive” $5500 box artist. “It’s going to be a great package,” she said.
Here I was afraid I’d alienated Sophie by strong-arming her over the phone yesterday about the box art, and today she’s practically fawning in an effort to make sure I’m pleased. It’s true: People like you better if you stand up for yourself. There’s no percentage in being self-effacing and making them think they can walk all over you.
Good (anyway, better) news from Jim St. Louis. He is working, and he says Doug has cheered up somewhat. God, I hope it works out.
Talked to Roland too and got him all fired up to do the Mac version. Only trouble is, he’s locked into Print Shop Companion at least until August.
Despair has been banished.
June 10, 1989
Accomplished relatively little today – just cleaned up a few animations and diddled around. Sent out new packets to Doug, Jim, and just-hired artist Robert F. Showed the game to Lauren Elliott. I’d better work this weekend.
June 20, 1989
Took Lance to lunch and tried to woo him out into the world of independent programmers. He was tantalized (and totally gung-ho about POP – he thinks he could do it in four months, working in his spare time), but I don’t think he’d seriously consider forsaking the security of his salaried position.
Promised Brian screen shots by next Tuesday. The photo shoot is set up for 2 pm Wednesday.
June 11, 1989
Spent this sunny Saturday alone in the office listening to Götterdämmerung and trying to draw a decent room for the princess to live in. On my way out, I swung by 77 Mark to see if anyone was there. Found Doug playing solitaire on his Mac II. He invited me on a river rafting trip on the Salmon River in Idaho at the end of July. I said yes. I ought to be done with the game by then. If not, five days off should do me good.
Could it be that I have a mild manic-depressive affective disorder? Last week I was depressed. Now I’m bouncing off the walls. It’s a desperate, manic kind of energy, and I can’t say I’m happy, but I will say this: The colors seem brighter. The air seems cleaner. The sun is warmer, the rain is wetter, the mist is mistier. The stacks of plates on the Nautilus machines go up and down easier and I can feel my blood pumping with every heartbeat. I don’t know why, or how long this will last, but I like it a whole lot better than going through the day half-asleep.
