There is a moment in every gamer’s life where he or she dreams of
making their own game. Whether it’s taking an existing game and adding
in just a couple of improvements or developing a completely new
homebrew system featuring cat people, this seems to be a universal
desire among the geek sect.
Most of these ideas, naturally, go
nowhere. I remember with some amusement and a little fondness the time
when my roommate Jeff and I decided that we should make a few tweaks to
the boardgame Risk
in an effort to make it more realistic. Mind you, this is a game that’s
decided completely by rolling a few dice many, many times. It is not
meant to be realistic or complex, it is meant to be fun. After we were
done adding in "just one more" thing 15 or 20 times, we discovered that
we had created, essentially, Axis & Allies,
a very fun and more complicated game that had, by the way, already been
created something like 20 years previously. As we already owned a copy
of Axis & Allies, we decided to put Risk away and play that
instead. With a few tweaks, of course.
My point is, gamers are
natural tinkerers, natural creators. We have the mindset to enjoy doing
this, but not necessarily the skills to do it well. So it is with some
trepidation that I admit to being a game designer. I mean this in a
loose sense of the term, in that along with a friend I spent a year
noodling around on a game for…well, gamers. It is called rather
appropriately, This Game Sucks
and it is a constant source of amusment. Nearly a year ago, we
"launched" the product and since then have sold something like 20
copies at about $7.00 apiece. It is best not to ask to see the balance
sheet on this venture.
Buoyed by this rousing success, we
decided that we should make another game for this year. It is still in
development, but will be available for play and sale (along with This
Game Sucks) at GenCon
in Indianapolis this August. I’m excited about this, and nervous as
well. What if it’s not done in time? What if this one really DOES suck?
What if I forget about a session I’m running and leave people standing
there pissed off? I’ve been on that side of the equation at a
convention before and it really blows. Still, it’s going to be fun.
Somewhere along the way, we took it in our heads to create a
third game, for a market that isn’t exactly known for their interest in
board games. This monstrosity is called Oh, Scrap!
and it is designed for scrapbookers. Now, I probably know more about
scrapbooking than 95% of men on the planet (which is to say, "some"
rather than "none at all"), and my friend and business partner is an
avid scrapbooker, so it’s not as though we have no credibility in this
arena. That said, the game was created on a lark, basically after being
dared to do so by some people on a message board that my friend
frequents. Ten of them stepped up to commit to ordering the game when
it was ready, so we went to work.
The game got designed, and laid
out, and printed, and prepared. And happily, the people who had
promised to order it also paid us. And then something odd happened.
They liked it. Not only that, but we started getting some interest from
other people. Like retailer people, believe it or not. Slowly it
began to dawn on us that we might actually have a minor hit on our
hands. We stifled such thoughts because they were very likely untrue.
Still, it was cool to see some interest and excitement. That’s a big
reason for doing this, no matter the scale.
Jump ahead a
couple of months. We purchased a laser printer so we could print the
stuff in at least some quantity. The game is now stocked (in small
quantities, but stocked) at two local scrapbook retailers. It is going
to be reviewed on a decent-sized scrapbooking website later this
summer. We have tentatively entered into the advertising realm with a
banner ad on another site. Orders are trickling in, and it’s pretty fun
to see.
Now we have the past 16 hours. During that time,
we have received a request for pricing from another retailer, this one
in Canada. This is very cool. Huge for us, in fact. It gives an air of
legitimacy to the whole operation.
Also, an email came through
last night that made me say, rather frankly, "Holy shit!" About a month
ago we sent out a copy of the game to an Australian wholesaler who said
they might ("MIGHT," my cautionary internal self kept saying when I’d
get excited by the possibility) be interested in stocking the game for
their network of retailers. Ten days ago I sent out a follow-up email,
and heard nothing. ("See? I was right!" that internal self reminded me
several times). Except that…well, last night they contacted us again,
and said that they would be forwarding their initial order within the
next day or so, along with the information for their US freight
forwarder. This is, as the saying goes, not a drill. Someone actually
wants the thing, is willing to take at least some risk on the chance
that it will sell.
That internal self has been talking up a storm, since then. Our
minimum order for wholesalers is only 50, after all. That’s not exactly
huge money. On the other hand, what if they want a large quantity that
we can’t provide? We’re going to look like idiots if we can’t get it
done. And all that is true, really. But I don’t care. I just don’t. If
they want 50 copies, I’m thrilled because we created it with the
expectation that we would sell 10 and no more than that. If they want
thousands of copies, I’m overwhelmed, but still thrilled. I will not be
one of those people who bitches about success. We’ll figure it out,
find someone to help us with printing in quantity if that’s what we
need to do. We’ll promote the hell out of the fact that we are huge in
Australia. And then we’ll see where else this ride goes, and start
figuring out the next project.
I refuse, however, to create a game that includes cat people.
