> The Arcade Signal

On a day like today, the wind is blowing so hard that my home feels as though, at any moment, I might be sent off to Oz if I weren’t so lucky. Still, I kept to my Sunday ritual and headed out to have my clothes dried at the laundromat. Our dryer finally crapped the bed, but if I’m being honest, it’s something I rather enjoy doing.

I spend about forty minutes there reading, thinking, and plotting my games. It’s a place where I find a surprising amount of solace. Something about the steady hum of machines and the quiet passing of time makes it easy to focus. Ideas come easier there.

While I sat waiting for my clothes, I found myself thinking about the game again. Yesterday, a friend of mine sent me an audio track that I instantly fell in love with. Naturally, I decided it belonged in the game. When I got home and started working on the code, something remarkable happened. It worked on the first attempt.

Color me surprised.

On the first shot, no less. That’s astounding.

Now, I’m not some kind of super code-monkey genius. Far from it. I’m just a guy making the games he wants to play. Still, moments like that feel pretty good.

I started thinking about all the games I’ve played throughout my life and how great they were. When I compare them to much of what gets made today, there really is no comparison in my mind. Heck, even the games I make, done entirely by one person, feel more honest than some of the stuff being churned out now.

At least I know I’m not artificially pumping up numbers to gain a wider audience. No. If I fail, I fail completely on my own, and for good reason too. Haha.

Of course, adding the music wasn’t the only thing I’ve done with the game. I’ve been adding new features as well. I’m not smashing rocks together over here. I’m making art. To me, an arcade game is better than any bloated mess made for modern consoles or PCs.

The entire source code for Cryogrid is under 90 KB. Think about that for a moment. I can play through the game again and again and enjoy myself without some massive program slowing my system down. There’s something beautiful about that simplicity.

Sometimes I’m reminded of the show Code Monkeys. You might remember it from the old days on G4. No matter how great you make something, the world might just ignore it. Still, that show was fantastic. It genuinely made me laugh.

Picture me right now. Well, you can’t actually see me, but imagine a slightly less attractive version of Louie Anderson sitting at a computer. I’m writing this in a text file while taking a break from playing my own game, and already, in the back of my mind, I’m planning the next one.

Do you know how long it takes me to do something like this? Maybe a month or two. That includes making the game, recording the videos, writing these blog posts, and trying to keep you wonderful people entertained along the way.

Of course, I’m kidding a little. In this day and age, most people only care about themselves. Everyone thinks they’re the main character in this strange game we call life.

Still, I often think about the games that really meant something to me. Games like Wolfenstein, Doom, Mega Man, Zork, and Double Dragon. And then there was that weird arcade game where you had to cut pieces off the screen while avoiding enemies, slowly revealing an image underneath. Do you remember that one?

There were even adult versions of it.

I remember seeing one in the wild when I was a kid. I didn’t put a quarter in. I didn’t have one. But I watched the attract screen reveal the image, and my reaction was about the same as Beavis saying, “Whoa.”

But I digress.

I’m already plotting out my next project. This time it’s going to be a tower defense-style arcade game where you defend a castle from approaching orc armies. You’ll play as an archer firing arrows at the attackers while they try to destroy parts of the castle walls.

You’ll only get three chances before it’s game over. Three hits against the castle, and that’s it. GAME OVER.

My daughter was actually watching me and helping test Cryogrid, which was a lot of fun. Seeing her react to the concept of 3D tic-tac-toe was amazing. She was completely blown away by it.

It got me thinking about how many people today probably never played the old Atari 2600 version or any of the other classic variants. There’s even a version on the Commodore 64 that can honestly knock your socks off.

There’s something about the idea of tic-tac-toe in three dimensions that just feels cooler. Maybe it’s because anything resembling 3D back in the Atari days felt magical. Seeing something like that on the screen was incredible.

That’s probably it.

So anyway, my daughter told me she wants me to make a game for her too. I told her I’m just one guy. I can’t make things like what you see on the PlayStation 5. She said she understands that, but I have a feeling she’s going to ask again.

And honestly, I don’t mind one bit.

Let’s just say I may be a whole lot busier in the future.

But never fear, you wonderful people. I’ll still be writing on this blog every chance I get, working on games, and sharing videos of my next adventures in this strange one-man circus.

You’re all invited to come along for the ride.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to sign off.

There’s a pot roast in the oven.