I left my full-time job for a part-time one. I was officially at least half of a game developer.

The first impression was that I had plenty of time, but I didn't have the right idea for a game. So, why not invest time on my own game framework? And update that animation tool I prototyped a while ago? I ended up coding an awful lot of stuff.

Something wasn't quite right: I was not developing games, I was developing tools to develop games. I was still turtling up in my comfort zone: I was solving problems.

Making games doesn't come natural to me. Nonetheless, it feels good. I eventually decided that pushing myself out of my comfort zone can be beneficial, as I explained at the very beginning.

So I decided it was time to actually start making a game. Using my own game framework and animation tool, since I had developed them.

Soon I would realize that having plenty of time was just an impression.

I was stuck. Stuck and restless.

I wanted to make games, but I didn't want to write code 12 hours a day. It just wasn't right for me and for everyone that was unlucky enough to have to deal with a stressed and sleep-deprived version of me.

I worked in the same small company for 11 years. As I said, it wasn't my dream job but it was a good job and it allowed me to build my own independent life. Also, the brief experience I had with game jams taught me that for each successful game developer, there are hundreds that don't manage to live off their work.

But then my luck changed.

Everyone of us has that good old friend that doesn't hear since a decade or so. Maybe you write each other occasionally, for birthday wishes or things like that. Well, my good old friend came out with a good offer for a part-time job.

So I decided that it was the time to do a little leap of faith on my part.

Anyone can die.

Again, it's something logic, undeniable and inevitable. Despite this, my mind seems to avoid taking it into account, maybe to preserve its own sanity. Every time reality reaffirms this concept, it hits me hard.

The last time it happened, I started feeling like I had to take a firm grip on my life and make it turn in the direction I wanted, right in that moment.

So, after more than a year of inconclusiveness, I decided to make a game.

Procedural generation is a topic that I have always found interesting: I'm fascinated by the intricacies of harnessing randomness into something meaningful and beautiful. PROCJAM was around the corner, so I decided to participate.

Soon enough, it became clear that the game jam was just an excuse to give myself a deadline and a general direction. Then I realized that I didn't even care about the players and how the game would be received. I just needed to shout and I did it in a digital, game-like form.

That's how "Hanging by a Thread" took form. It taught me two things: I was still able to make something I liked and I still wanted to make games.

All those game jams were taking their toll. I was burned out.

I've started to feel guilty, because it was affecting my productivity at work. It wasn't my dream job, but I didn't want to underperform because of what I was doing in my free time.

Also, when I began making game jams I had no expectations. After I had a little sip of success, I've started feeling that I was good at making games. I thought I wouldn't fail. It sounds foolish... and it is.

JS13K was long, tiring and I felt I have failed.

I'm a quiet person. My reaction to tiredness and failure was a quiet silence.

I stopped making games. Now and then I tried to develop some ideas, but I didn't finish anything. Every project, after a short while, started looking silly, pointless, worthless.

It lasted more than a year.

After <5 Minutes of Play Jam, I was very excited and I jumped right into another game jam: JS13K, make a game in Javascript with a zipped size less than 13 Kb.

My inner geek couldn't resist to the call of something that felt so technical. Moreover, the technique I used in "The Clock & The Chaos" was a great starting point because generated images and animations are very lightweight. I was very eager to experiment more with that approach and elaborate it deeper.

To be fully honest: I also thought that JS13K was a good way to show off my programming skills and my effort has been focused on technical details all the time. I've tried to cram all I could inside that 13 Kb zip, but I forgot to put in something fundamental.

Fun and engagement.

"The Cursed Mirror" is not that bad, but it's a good example of how not to invest time and effort when making a game.

The whole point of making a game is to create an experience for the player, even in a game jam like JS13K.

In the end, the game felt dull and soulless. I felt that I did fail.

I don't react well to failures.

<5 Minutes of Play Jam instantly got my attention. I was fascinated by the idea of creating a gaming experience in a concise and elegant way. I also liked the idea to have a very narrow scope and, hopefully, time to polish.

There wasn't a proper theme, so I used the limit imposed by the game jam as a theme. The limited time, a clock ticking, a protagonist struggling against time but ultimately failing: a small robot fixing a clock that is falling apart.

I was still undecided on which kind of technique to use for graphic and animations. The idea I had involved gears of different size and colors, perfectly fitting together. I discarded the idea of drawing them and I wrote a piece of code that generated gears, given size and color. Then I needed an image for the clock face... and again, it was easier for me to write code to generate it instead of drawing it.

All of a sudden I realized that this was the technique I was looking for. The thing I do best is telling computers how to work for me. I ended up generating procedurally all images and animations of the game.

I've also made quite an effort for sound and music. I've spent hours on freesound.org searching for samples to use for the sound effects and I've listened to lots of Creative Commons music, until I found this gem: "suddenly i feel alone". I could feel the clock ticking, mechanisms falling apart and the loneliness of the protagonist fighting for a lost cause. The crescendo was perfect for the gameplay I had in mind, I ended up adapting the game pace to match the pace of the music.

I felt deeply inspired and it paid off. "The Clock & The Chaos" is still the best game I've made so far.

From my perspective, it was very, successful. There was a clear measure for its success: it has been played for far more time than what I've spent developing it.

Game jams really caught me for a while.

It was what I needed at the time; after a series of vague projects left unfinished, I had a theme and a strict deadline. I also loved the intensity of the burst of work and the satisfaction that followed. The sense of community of passionate game developers, playing small games full of fresh ideas, the chance of trying new approaches: it felt great.

I threw myself in a number of game jams. They gave me the opportunity to learn a lot, especially in the aspects in which I am most lacking: images, sounds and game design. In a short lapse of time I could experiment and see if the developing process and the outcome were acceptable; in the next game jam I would adjust what didn't go well.

It was fun and enlightening, until it lasted.

I've tried many times to develop a video game with other people, but it didn't work for a number of reasons. To be honest: probably I'm not a good team worker. To be fully honest: probably I wasn't interested enough in making a game with other people, what I really wanted is to make my game.

I wanted to feel free to express myself, try weird approaches, fail miserably.

At some point, I've discovered game jams and Ludum Dare. In particular Mini LD #58 draw my interest because of the theme: PONG.

The main issue with making a video game as a solo developer is that you have to take care of every aspect of the game. Which, at the same time, it's also the most exciting thing. Anyway: my artistic training is equal to zero and at the time I felt it was a big problem. The fact that the game had to be inspired by PONG had a very clear implication: I could make a game out of rectangles.

And so, in about three days, I put together "A Ball's Life".

It was satisfying and fun.

The idea of having made a game was incredible. The fact that someone played it and wrote about it was mind-blowing.