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Interview with Jason Rohrer

Jason Rohrer is an independent game developer of games such as Passage and One Hour One Life.

 

This is part of the interview series for my Handmade Pixels book.

 

The interview was conducted on October 23rd, 2017.

 

Jesper:As first question, what do you do? How would you describe your work?
Jason:I describe myself as an independent video game designer and programmer. Or you could summarize that as saying I'm an independent game developer. I think of myself not just as a designer, but also as somebody who's doing the work to actually turn the design into a realized product.
Jesper:Is that important, being a one person shop? That design and development are one process?
Jason:

I feel like it is for me; it helps make the end product a very personal thing. I'm not only making the game; I'm also making the website and coming up with a PR plan and doing tech support. And recording the music and writing the music and everything. When the end user interfaces with this product, they are getting a very personal person-to-person thing.

The source code is available, all my work is in the public domain, and if they go and poke around in the source code, they will be poking around in something where I typed each of those characters, right?

Jesper:Do you ever write the source code with the idea that somebody who's looking for an interpretation of your work might read it?
Jason:

To some degree. I mean part of the problem is the end results of what we're making are very ephemeral. Passage no longer runs on the latest Mac OS. It no longer runs on the iPhone, in fact, I think Apple finally removed it from the store.

The source code is the last enduring artifact that's left for some of these things. And the source code, if we think about the longevity of our work, the source code is important. Because that's what people are going to be messing with when they're trying to get the thing running in the future.

Jesper:There's something is interesting with the source code: on one hand you're promoting the idea of the very personal game. But on the other hand, I think open source is often slightly depersonalized, it's not about one person owning a thing but about a community sharing?
Jason:Right, that's for open source projects developed by a community, like the Linux Kernel, or Firefox. I'm not thinking about it in those terms. It's maybe debatable, but I don't know that there's been an open source game that's been any good.
Jesper:I think XPilot was good?
Jason:My point is that none of those things have taken off in game culture, whereas if we look at other types of software, many software projects have communities developing them that have become huge, and almost world-changing. There are few internet servers that are not running Linux these days.

There's something different going on with games, and that's in part because it there's no proof correctness in the same way for the design decisions, and things that go into it. The vision behind it is important.

It's a weird thing where it's definitely an engineering project, a game can be broken. And even the design can be provably mathematically broken. At the same time, aesthetic choices go into the design of a game, and I think that the keeping of a cohesive vision is important, where it’s not necessarily as important for a web browser, or a web server.

I think that designing by committee, or kitchen sink design, or even the audience voting on which direction the game should go in, doesn't end up producing what we generally think of as really good games.

I wanted my source code to be out there, and I don't want to stop somebody from doing something else with the game, that doesn't mean I'm opening the door for everybody to throw contributions my way. I pretty much never integrated a patch.

Jesper:That's pretty interesting. I was also wondering why you didn't use the word art just before - you didn't say, “I'm an artist”? I saw you give a talk in 2008 about games finally crossing a red line, joining other art forms becoming art. Do you talk of your work as art? Or have you stopped doing that?
Jason:I never intentionally referred to myself as an artist. I think that when we use “art” in the way I was using it in those talks, we mean a very particular thing that none of us can quite define, but we kind of know it when we see it, and that doesn't really match up with whatever dictionary definition of art people want to use. When someone says, "This is a great work of art," and they're applying it to a movie, or a record album, or a novel, or whatever, as opposed to fine art in the gallery space, they mean certain things by it.

And to call myself an artist in that context would be to be make a claim that I don't really have the capability of making about myself. I've always avoided that pretension.

When I'm talking about art, that's what I'm talking about. And when I draw that line, I'm saying, "Look above this line," I think we can all probably agree that Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band, and Lolita, and this photograph, and this stage play, and these things, are great works of art. And they're all very different in the way that they operate. They're completely different formally, and yet they are all doing something that we lump together. I'm saying that we don't have, and I still think that's true to this day, even of my own games, that we don't have many games that have even come close to that line.

Jesper:But I'm not sure that it's a line? The New York Times was republishing their original review of Sgt. Pepper's, and it was lukewarm. A lot of things don't actually have that status, especially when they come out?
Jason:I think that sometimes it takes time, or it's within a historical context. I think we understand Sgt. Pepper better now than anybody would have understood it when it first came out. Sgt. Pepper's a great example. It's a work of popular culture that was a mass market thing that was put to every record store all around the world. If you listen to musicians who were young at the time, like Phil Collins, and people who were growing up at that time, they said that this album threw open these doors for them, and they realized they could do this kind of stuff with music that they had never thought about doing – that they could use rock music the way painters and poets use paint and words.

We're in a position now where something like Sgt. Pepper doesn't even seem that weird, or interesting, or edgy art, or expressive. Compared to some of the things we're aware of today, but all of those things are riding on its shoulders.
Jesper:I agree.
Jason:When Passage first came out, lots of people really didn't know what to make of it. But in its historical context, and where things have gone since then, it makes more sense.
Jesper:OK. I was thinking how to characterize your work, I think in general you take simple mechanics, or systems, and then you tune them a lot, and you often have something procedural, either in the gameplay or the graphics. And then you often do something to them which makes them acquire some kind of larger meaning, usually kind of existential. Do you think is that a fair description of what you do, and how did you get to this point?
Jason:Okay, I don't know if it's a fair assessment of what I'm doing as a designer in terms of taking some simple mechanic. If you go way back to Passage,what are the mechanics? There is a core simple mechanic there. But if you look at something like Inside a Star Filled Sky, or some of my more recent games, I got much more into developing new not-so-simple mechanics from scratch. In Castle Doctrine, I'm basically inventing a new genre of game. This kind-of rogue-like, where other people are designing the dungeons, essentially, perma-death, and it's turn-based, but what you're doing is building up resources by which you're going to go back and improve your dungeon.
Jesper:Okay. I guess by simple mechanics, I mean that when you describe The Castle Doctrine now, the core mechanics are easy to grasp by themselves.  That's what I mean, you don't have a massive system, with 100 variables that take a long time to grok? Are you saying that you're making “deeper” game design experiments over time?
Jason:Right. I guess if I go back to something like Passage, at the time it felt like it was enough to just have a game that had some sort of more profound meaning. Trying to figure out how to do those things through game mechanics, even if they're relatively simple, even if they weren't that inventive on your own, like walking around and collecting treasure chests. That's all you do in Passage. Run into a spouse, and collect treasure chests in a maze. Walking around mazes in games is a very old, very tired kind of thing to be doing, and the interesting thing about Passage is that it recasts the maze in a more profound, meaningful context. It would  be hard to argue that the maze in Pac-Man really represents something else.

But in Passage, it's hard to say that the maze doesn't represent something else. It'd be a stretch to claim that it didn't. So I felt exhausted of that type of design, and I was also looking around at other people who were making art games at the time, and I felt like we collectively had exhausted this, “let's build a system of game mechanics, and have the system be interpretable in terms of its meaning”.

Jesper:And have it be about your own life, or your marriage.
Jason:The interpretation of mechanics, which is a technique that I will credit to Rod Humble, I heard it in a discussion I was having with him. But before that, my idea came from Raph Koster, and his idea was that games would be artistically meaningful and expressive by giving players more than one right way to play.

And then getting them to reflect on why they made the choices that they did. And if you go back even further to my game Cultivation, before Passage, in Cultivation you are in a system, and there are all these different things you could do in that system, some are mean, some are nice, some are helping other characters in the game, some that are hurting them.

And you're supposed to sit there and say, "Whoa, why did I make that choice that I did?" And then Rod came along and said, "Well no, but maybe there is something artistic we can do in the construction of the game itself." As I saw people playing Cultivation, I thought that the idea of having more than one right way to play, and having the player reflect on choices, was kind of hollow.

If you look at a game like Heavy Rain, that is what it’s doing. You're in a situation where you can save your child, or torture somebody – spoiler. And the game literally lets you make that choice, and the story goes on. But how much do you really feel based on that choice, and does it really weigh you down? It's an artificial context.

Jesper:But it seems there are at least two different schools of thought. One is a school saying that expressive games come from allowing player choice, and the other is about dialing down player choice?
Jason:I would disagree with that. I think that the difference between Koster and Humble, if we want to talk about those two approaches, is not about the Roger Ebert’esque authorial intent bugaboo.
Jason:Passage does dabble with both things, because you can do different things in the game and have different outcomes. There are people who go chasing after treasure chests, intentionally avoiding the wife, and then coming back and finding her tombstone.

There is some of that in the game, but it felt like that wasn't enough. Maybe because it was hard to give people more than two completely different ways to play. Even if you are giving a spectrum between being nice and mean, it's just one lever that the player is able to pull.

Dishonored as a good example of a modern AAA game that does this, you can play entirely through the game without killing a single person, and the game notices how much violence you are using, even though you're an assassin in the game. If you are violent, it causes a rat plague to grow in the city the more people you kill. I guess because the dead bodies are piling up, and the rats are feeding on them?

Jesper:And it's a metaphor?
Jason:Yeah, and it's a metaphor. But that's just one spectrum. You either killed one person by accident, now I killed three people, now I'm starting to kill as many people as I can on purpose. Now I'm absolutely going through the entire game and killing every single person that I can find. You have a spectrum, but it's just one variable. Whereas in Passage, there are all of these different mechanics waiting for you to interpret, waiting for you to apply to your own life. It’s a more complicated construction. But since then, I've felt that’s run its course.

Then I started getting interested in creating a gameplay experience, or emotional experience uniquely driven by the play of the game itself. Inside a Star Filled Sky think was the first game where I was doing this. It's a game about infinity, and about the feeling of grappling with infinity, and about recursion, and about the feeling of grappling with recursion. I set up a gameplay system where through playing the game optimally, you end up grappling with recursion very directly. As you go down, you’re stuck in some spot in the game, you go down inside a monster to weaken the monster, and now you're down inside the monster, and you find some other thing you can't get past, and you go down inside a power-up to get a better power up to deal with what you're in that monster. And now you're down inside the power up, and you run into something else that you can't get past, and you go several layers deep. And then slowly you start unwinding the stack, and you realize that you've forgotten what you were even trying to do in the first place.

And the important thing is that a-ha moment, the realization of how deep this has gone, and how unable you are to cope with recursion mentally. Sticking someone in a situation or aesthetic experience of grappling with that, is not about giving choices, nor about creating a mechanical framework for interpretation. There's nothing to interpret in Inside a Star Filled Sky in that way.

Jesper:But it's interesting, because you are talking here about the player’s actions as they try to work towards a goal. I've been looking at games like Dear Esther, and the work of Tale of Tales. There are many designers who feel that when you as a player have to optimize your strategy, that detracts from having a bigger aesthetic experience?
Jason:I agree with the concern there. Brian Moriarty says it in his Apology for Roger Ebert talk, that when we're in the middle of a flow state, and we're grappling with game mechanics, and getting deep into the game, our minds are not still enough to be able to even receive the sublime, or however he said it. I think that's what Tale of Tales are worried about: if players are in the gameplay hook, and busy min-maxing, they're impervious to any sort of loftier aesthetic content. You spend all this time designing this beautiful garden and gateway that they're going through, and they're looking right past it.

On the other hand, I feel that what we're doing when we're playing a really good game is the meat, the meat and the heart of what games are, and we need to figure out how to make aesthetic experiences with that meat.

Jesper:Okay.
Jason:We don't need to figure out how to pull the meat out of It. I find that not-games or what we may call them, are very unsatisfying experiences. And I don't think I'm alone. There are some people who really appreciate them, but there are also people who find them boring.

And why are they boring? I could watch a movie with the same content and not find it boring. Trying to figure out why that is, is really important. We should understand those aspects of interactive experiences and not ignore them. We can't necessarily ignore the constraints of an interactive experience. We have to understand them and embrace them, the same is true for music or any other medium. I mean you don't want to make a sculpture that's so small that people can't see it, you know.

Jesper:It's funny that you bring that up, because you also recently made games that are unplayable, like the sculpture that's too small to see?
Jason:Okay, that's my out there. Well okay, so let's roll back here for a second. Chain World, which is a game that exists on a single USB stick, and which has resurfaced, and Naomi Clark currently has it.
Jesper:Oh, I didn't know.
Jason:Chain World is an example of a game where it is playable, it's just probably not playable by you, or me ever again, or by most people. But there are people who are playing it, and the aesthetic experience they will have while playing it, or while interacting with it is based on these rules, and the situations that the rules create.

Knowing that you're the only person playing this at this moment gives a tension in terms of what you want to do inside the game before you end up dying by accident. And forcing the rule upon yourself that you never play it again, and pulling the memory stick out, and passing it on to somebody else. The rules engender this feeling that happens when you actually pass it on to somebody else.

Likewise, a game buried in the Nevada desert for 2,000 plus years, is still a playable game, and there's also a game around people trying to find it. If you got on a plane and went to the Nevada desert with a metal detector, I guarantee you'd have an aesthetic experience yesterday.

It's not a complete living room furnished set at the bottom of the ocean, like concept art, or the sculpture that you can't even see. There is a playable element to these things. Which creates the experience.

Jesper:OK. There are many ways to play with game form, and the two games you mentioned now get their meaning from breaking our expectations, right? I read them as response to how easy it now is to distribute games, and therefore you're making games that work against distribution?
Jason:Right, they're not on Steam.
Jesper:Do the games you make, or the way you make games, make the world a better place? Do you see yourself as changing the world for the better?
Jason:No.
Jesper:No? Okay.
Jason:You'd have to be very full of hubris to claim that artistic or entertainment or creative products have a profound impact on the world. I know that some artists feel that they're going to change the world with their song. But I think that what we're doing is far baser than that. We're basically giving idle people something to do.

Most of us in western civilization have gotten to the point where there's enough automation that we're not actively struggling for our basic survival. Most of us are not actively struggling for our basic survival on a moment to moment, day to day basis. We never really think oh, the winter's coming, we better get our act together, or we're going to starve to death, you know?

We've exempted ourselves at least temporarily from the realities of survival and we make up our own worries, our first world problem worries, or our day to day struggles that cloud everything. But we also have a lot of idle mental cycles, and I think most people are spending many of those mental idle cycles, myself included, on consuming works of entertainment, and art. Did you see the latest House of Cards, Jesper?

Jesper:No, I couldn't bear to watch the latest season.
Jason:I haven't seen any of it, I'm joking.  But I'm saying that's what we talk about.
Jesper:Sure. Did you play that art game?
Jason:Did you play that art game? It's not feeding anyone, or clothing anybody, or housing anybody, or stopping any war, or changing the global climate, or saving the whales. People are keeping their mind from contemplating their own death.
Jesper:But I also see you as someone who promotes a certain, at least promoted for a while, off-the-grid lifestyle. Like no more mobile phone.
Jason:I still have no mobile phone.
Jesper:And you also use open source libraries. Your games have a certain, we could say retro style. There's a kind of pixelated variation, but then in a lot of the games you add more modern graphical effects. And you even use somewhat old fashioned tools, like the SDL library?
Jason:You mean I'm not using Unity.
Jesper:Regarding the visual and audio style of your games. How did you choose that style, what were the considerations? And what do you want this visual and auditory style to signal?
Jason:I made pixel art games for a while, right? That was the main aesthetic that I chose. Prior to that, Cultivation was not a pixel art game, and Transcend before that was not a pixel art game. One was a vector game, and the other was procedurally generated textures essentially. But I was asked to make a pixel art game for that Gamma event that I made Passage for. We had a constraint that the games had to be low resolution, less than 256 by 256. So I gave pixel art a try. And once I tried it, I realized that it was very satisfying to work in pixel art, because it was so heavily constrained that it led to a lot of creative productivity.

When you only have five pixels for the character's space, there's only so many faces you can try, and you can quickly settle on one that looks cool given the constraints that you have. And you're not going to be a perfectionist tweaking it forever. The eyes are either up or down. I was reminded of Scott McCloud's Understanding Comics, where he talks about the power of abstraction, and that sweet spot that cartoons have between photo realism and completely abstract representations. Like printed words, because they visually remind you of something like a face, but they're not so specific that they remind you of a given individual. When we look at Homer Simpson, we see some suburban middle class guy. We don't see a very specific guy, right? He kind of looks like my dad. He maybe looks like your dad, doesn't he?

Jesper:Yeah.
Jason:Whereas if Homer Simpson was drawn more photorealistically, he'd be a specific person. A great example is Tim from Braid. He is a very specific little weird looking guy, whereas the character in Fez is just some little cartoon guy. He could be anybody. You could kind of imagine yourself being that guy, but you can't really imagine yourself being Tim from Braid. Tim from Braid is wearing a sport coat and a bread tie, and he's got khakis on that are a little wrinkled.

I was also very interested in things that were at home on the computer, things that weren't mimicking other media, or trying to look like something else. I wouldn't want to make a game that looked like a board game operating on a computer. I wanted to make things back then that were with the grain of the medium. This is a digital medium; these things should look digital.

Pixel art was like the perfect digital cartooning. You can look at the guy from Passage, and he could be almost anybody. But if I put a photograph of my face in there, the game just wouldn't work.

Jesper:What do you think about the retro association that people have with your games? When people see pixel art, is it nice that it looks like old-style games? Or is that noise compared to what you're trying to do?
Jason:For me, it definitely felt like it was noise. I wasn't trying to invoke these things to leverage some kind of retro nostalgia, or even fetishism for the old.

I'm not using fetishism in a pejorative sense; I'm saying I feel that way when I see something lovingly crafted that mimics exactly the way a Super Nintendo game feels. I appreciate if someone goes back to an old platform and makes a work for it, like what Ian Bogost was doing with the Atari VCS. And I appreciate things made for emulators, and so on. But I wasn't doing that, and I think it's pretty clear that my games don't really leverage that. Passage is so pixelated that it almost transcends anything that we ever saw. It’s true that it might be as blocky as an Atari VCS game, but it's also using colors in a totally different way that wouldn't have been possible on the VCS.

It’s not trying to mimic those things, it was more a comfortable effective aesthetic style for me to leverage as a creator at the time, to do things that resonated with people in a way that was general enough, but still looked very digital. And when people call Passage 8-bit, that's not even technically correct. It's definitely using the full range of 32 bit colors, and has all sorts of blending effects, so it's definitely not 8-bit.

Jesper:But even if it's not meant to signal retro, does it still work to signal a difference from mainstream games? When you make your games, do you see yourself as reacting against AAA or mainstream games?
Jason:Yeah. A lot of my work was a reaction to AAA. Like my decision to not include any cut scenes ever is because at the time all these AAA games just had loads of cut scenes, like in Metal Gear Solid.

They are also chasing photo-realism in a way that I felt was becoming less and less effective and verging further and further into the uncanny valley, with no other side of the valley in sight to climb back up. I felt that wasn’t really working anymore; the wow factor was gone for flashy photo-realistic graphics, and we had a lot of diminishing returns there. If we push as hard as we can away from that, where do we end up, right? We end up in something like pixel art.

I still to this day have not made a 3-D game, and I have no plans on it. And there’s a bunch of reasons for that. I think that when we are in the AAA space, or just 3-D game space in general, we get stuck out on this one little narrow branch of the design tree, which is like some kind of simulation.

It's hard to make something 3D that isn't a simulation, because when we see things in 3D, our brains expect them to behave the way 3D objects behave.

We don't expect spooky action at a distance, we don't expect other kinds of strange things. Pac-Man's a great example, where if you built it in 3D, it wouldn't make any sense.

Jesper:Like the wrap-around.
Jason:Yes. When we play Pac-Man we never question that. I've talked about Pac-Man as an example of this dozens of times, and we never mention wrap-around, because it seems so obvious. If there was wrap-around in a 3D game, it'd be the strangest thing in the world. There'd have to be a portal showing that you were teleporting.
Jesper:Some designers I've talked to say that they don't like shooting games. They want games about different kinds of emotions, or experiences. Is that a thing for you?
Jason:Yes. I've never really made a traditional shooting game. It’s not that I have a specific prescription against some kind of content, but more that I'm trying to plumb design territory that hasn't been plumbed.

If someone would ask me, "Well Jason, have you ever thought about making a first person shooter?" It'd be hard for me to imagine, because the ground is so well worn. There are not many variables there for tweaking.

Jesper:Is it the case that people have been so interested in tweaking the axes of 2D games, but not so interested in tweaking 3D games? One of the only games I can really think of is Superhot.
Jason:Where there is bullet time. But it experiments with something that's still in the realm of simulation. It doesn't present you with any symbols that you're manipulating. A good example from Passage is if you pick up the spouse, you become twice as wide. And you can't fit down in the maze after you've met together, because it’s obviously representing compromises of relationship.

Like partners in life are twice as wide as a single person navigating life by themselves. And no one's ever questioned that. As soon as you hook up and hold hands, then you can't fit because you're like a two tile wide Tetris piece. No one ever said, "Why don't they just go in single file, or rotate?" But if it was in 3D, if it looked like Ico, that symbolic element of them being twice as wide wouldn't make any sense. They would just pull their hands, and snake their way through. That is one of the biggest reasons for working in 2D. It's not just another aesthetic choice, it's not just a cultural positioning, or our desire to distance myself from AAA, as much as the design space is way more open in 2D.

Jason:If you go back in the history of arcade games, people also did all sorts of weird strange with 2D arcade games?
Jason:Mr. Do is a very strange game, and no one batted an eye at it. That kind of stuff is magical to me, that is the place where anything is possible, where we really can push limits and do strange and interesting things. And I feel that in the more photorealistic simulation 3D space, we wouldn't be able to do that.

My new game, One Hour One Life, does not have pixel art. Not all of my past games have been pixel art, but One Hour One Life has no pixel art and is all hand-drawn with real markers and pens. But even in the context of that, where One Hour One Life is a simulation of a world, it is a 2D simulation which allows all sorts of weird thing. For example, sometimes you're manipulating one object with another, and the result just pops into existence. That popping into existence allows me to simplify the content creation process to allow many more object interactions. The goal is to have 10,000 objects, and they're all supposed to interact with other in unique ways. In a 3D game, I don't think people would accept the way that it works.

Jesper:That’s super interesting, it makes me want to make the students create the kind of symbolic 3D games that you are talking about.
Jason:There are a couple of games that deal with dreams, games where all of a sudden, the room transforms, and there's a hole in the floor. But those are in the context of a dream where that can happen.
Jesper:You described yourself as an indie designer, or indie developer.
Jason:I think I said independent.
Jesper:You said independent, sorry. Do you have a strong feelings about the difference between indie, independent, alt games?
Jason:I definitely don't. Alt games are a new movement that I am pretty much unaware of, because I've got my nose down working on my latest things, and it bubbled up after I was done being part of movements. I don't identify with alt games as a label. I don't really identify with indie, because it sounds too cutesy.

I usually describe myself as independent to indicate to people that I'm not working in the game industry. That's still the main thing for me. I describe myself as independent, because it's a very quick way of saying that I am working on a game outside of a big company.

Jesper:I have reading up on the history of independent cinema, and some people use independent in a financial, logistical sense, but indie to mean kind of style, a specific style of filmmaking.
Jason:So indie becomes a genre?
Jesper:Yes.
Jason:I don't necessarily want to hem myself in by whatever those preconceptions are. I do want to maintain the sort of financial independence and creative independence, but at the same time I'm not necessarily making games that fit in a certain box. I'm always trying to do something very different than what I've done before, what other people have done, and always trying to push out, branch out, find unbroken ground, and so on.
Jesper:One thing I find interesting in independent games, whatever you want to call them, is a duality between two ideas, 1) the idea of making games that are more democratic, at least making tools more democratic so that more people can make video games. Versus 2) that some experimental games can be a bit elitist, speaking to the educated connoisseur. Do you see this conflict happening?
Jason:Yes. There are underground game communities, where a bunch of people are just making their first game, and the more likely reality is that most of those games are not getting played by anybody. On the other hand, yes, I am sort of somewhat interested in the highbrow.

That's one of the things I felt was missing from video games back when I gave talks about this issue, and drew the line in the sand [of making video games into an art form]. The idea that we have everything but the highbrow. We have high production values, we have high budgets, we have big name voice actors. We had ads on TV during the Super Bowl, and billboards in New York City. But none of the people that I interacted with outside of video games played or cared about this at all.

I felt part of the problem was, and still is, that if they actually took the time to care about video games, they'd find that most of it was not worth their time, relative to season six of House of Cards or whatever. So the amount of effort that they need to expend in order to even be able to play anything that I'd want to show them would not be worth it, given this very small handful of things that might be worth their time.

As game players, and lifetime game players, and studiers, and thinkers, we can play things that are lowbrow, and not really worth our time, but still find amazing things about them, because we're connoisseurs. To the insider, there are a lot of differences that really matter. The differences are magnified, and we can appreciate them, and dig deep into them.

We can take some mainstream relatively trashy pop culture lowbrow game, and write a thesis about why it's way better, or more interesting in certain ways. In ways that would be totally lost on anybody who just took a sideways glance at it. If we're talking about Gears of War and how the cover system was revamped and how totally changes the way the game feels - it's still a game about big heavy guys jumping around with giant guns.

Jesper:But the cover system!
Jason:But the cover system. I have come to the conclusion after chasing after the mainstream for a while, and watching the industry chase after the mainstream for a while, that this may not ever be attainable for very fundamental formal reasons. For me, the goal is having 20,000 fans that really get what I'm doing.

We're at a time when those niches can exist, and we should be happy, because it allows us to make deeper, more complicated work in terms of game designs, because we know that the audience is ready for it. The Castle Doctrine is completely unplayable to someone who doesn't ever play video games.

Jesper:Right.
Jason:But to somebody who's interested in games, and a is connoisseur of video games, it is deeply interesting. There were people who played Castle Doctrine every day for 11 months. You have that person on one hand, who got so deep into the game, and explored every little nuance that was there, emergent stuff that I didn't even know existed, and yet it'd be impenetrable for someone else. I never even bothered to show it to my mother. There's just too much to get your head around, and it's like trying to show someone who'd never read comics a Chris Weir comic.

We can say that Chris Weir is obviously appealing to a very narrow niche of comic enthusiasts, but at the same time it's probably the greatest work in comics. Or if  you show someone the film Synecdoche, New York by Charlie Kaufman. Only a fraction of the film audience would even be able to make it through that film.

And it's one of the greatest films of the past two decades or something.

Jesper:I liked it; it was certainly above the red line.
Jason:Hold on Jesper, what is the Synecdoche, New York of video games? That's what I'm saying. We don't have anything that could even come close to comparing to something like that.
Jesper:When I hear you talking about that you are one-person shop, you also make the website, I noticed with one of your games that the payment system had an icon saying, “no middleman”? Is there a special kind of authenticity or connection you get by selling the game directly on your own website, versus doing it on Steam?
Jason:I've been using those little icons for a while. I think I copied or stole the idea from Humble Bundle.

Originally, they had no DRM, no middleman. And then I added an open source icon there, and also the cross platform icon, and the no middleman, I changed to no middle person.

It has a little business tie with a red x through it. It might even just be a marketing gimmick. People feel some personal connection that makes them more likely to want to support you. Edmund McMillen used to have something on his website, where he was selling basement collection, it said something like, "Support independent art."

Giving the person a feeling that there's more to their purchase than just the economic utility of what they're buying. They're actually supporting something they believe in, or supporting an individual person. And I think that does resonate with people.

There have been people who have appreciated my work and sent me gifts by mail for my family to enjoy. That gives me a more personal connection with the people that I'm engaged with, and makes the economic transactions feel less crass, and strangely there has been a contingent of people who played one game after another of mine, and have stuck with me as fans.

Some of those people have, even though I don’t think I've never met any of them in real life, kind of become friends of mine. I've interacted with them in the forums, and they've come up with interesting ideas to fix problems in the game, or they've played the game deeply, and noticed things about it that I'd never even seen before. Or they won the contest, or they're still at the top of the front row scoreboard.

Getting to know those people, interacting with them, has been a really important part of my practice. Those people have improved the games immeasurably. I think they feel a personal connection with me, and I feel a personal connection with them. I have a dream that someday I'll meet them.

I have no idea what they look like, or how old they are. They're just names in a forum. For some of them, I don't even know their real name, I just know their forum handle.

Jesper:But concerning your website, is there's a point in not having a snazzy, with nice JavaScript transitions? You have a very basic HTML website.
Jason:Yeah, pure HTML. You wish I had the little animated GIF mailbox opening and closing, right?
Jesper:You can do that now, now it’s cool again.
Jason:Part of it was that I was using old computers, and they had old web browsers on them, and I was testing on something that didn't support cascading style sheets, and definitely didn't support snazzy JavaScript type stuff. Also, it's the HTML that I know.

I would have to learn the new stuff. But just making sure it runs in every web browser, that's a democratization issue.

As someone who was using old computers, I was always frustrated at how slow a lot of websites were to load, and how much they assumed about your computer’s capabilities. I want everybody to go to the website. That's also true of the technical constraints that I place upon the games I'm making - that I am developing on older hardware on purpose, because that ensures that they will run on almost everybody's computer. It’s problem with game developers, as they often have invested in the best equipment, which means that they have some monster graphics card, and it runs at 60 frames a second for them. Unity and other modern tools create games that don't run well on older computers.

This goes for even Flash with or JavaScript, as web browser-based games are horrible on computers, because they're depending on an interpretive language for processing arrays and so on. So are two to three times slower, which means that they need to run on a computer that's two to three times more modern. And people who are developing them don't realize until they hear some complaint from a user who's getting two frames a second.

Jesper:To me, the basicness of your website also comes across as a kind of honesty, or a kind of authenticity. Like you're saying that you don't have an ad agency making your website.
Jason:There's that too. It doesn't look like a website that's trying to pull one over on you. Have you been to some of these websites for startups that are very shiny looking? They always have these pictures of smiling people?
Jesper:Yes, and stock photos.
Jason:They're like, “we've got to put some smiling people here”. It’s obvious to anybody who's paying attention, and we realize that this person isn't smiling about this product, they're not smiling about this new email API that the company's pushing.
Jesper:But is the directness of a payment system important? I would say that people interested in independent games operated with a scale, where setting up your own website is the most authentic, then Itch.io, then Steam is sliding down the scale currently, and at the very bottom you have something like Xbox Live, or PSN.
Jason:Right. For me, the main thing is the number of hoops that I need to jump through as a developer. I'm not just hosting the game on my website, I've got a whole framework that I've written for managing user accounts, sending out download emails, keeping track of who's paid and whatever, and then also granting access to the server. Like the game server for the Castle Doctrine, and One Hour One Life is a great example. It's a massively multiplayer game, and what you're paying for is access to the server. The game is open source, so I need to keep track of who's paid, and give them an account, and be able to block accounts, and turn things off. Platforms like Itch.io, and even Steam to some extent, are not designed around that. When I integrated with Steam for The Castle Doctrine, I had to do all sorts of custom coding to be able to query Steam's database, to find out if the person really owns the game, and then create an account on my server for them and all this, and it's a pretty hairy, fragile process.

Whereas if I'm doing it myself on my end, I've already written all that stuff, it's been working for five games in a row, and I know it's going to work. But it's a nightmare to imagine doing that again for Steam, and making sure it's still working with the latest API's. With Itch.io, I don't think I can make it work at all, because they're just hosting binary downloads.  That's not enough, I need to have access to the server, accounts and so on.

One more thing about the different platforms. Going down into Xbox Live or PSN, involves many hoops to jump through. Getting my game there is a six month process of full-time work. Having it on my own website is what I prefer if I can, financially.

If it can become successful financially on my own website, I'd rather not put in on Steam. Also Steam takes 30%. And I have to jump through their hoops, so it's just the most straightforward path.

Jesper:One more thing. Did you for a while worry that these fancy interesting new experiments with games would just become a new ossified style of its own?
Jason:I see what you're saying, yeah, because that is sort of something that happened in film.
Jesper:I think it happens for a lot of people who do experimental stuff. We've got to break all the rules, and then after a while people can identify their work from like a mile off.
Jason:Then as opposed to the thing that's shaking up everything, it becomes this box that, and you can't be shaking anything up anymore, because it’s all inside that box. I think that's true to some degree, and maybe that's part of why I kept changing up the types of games that I was making. To avoid becoming a parody of myself.

I don't want to get stuck in one stylistic rut, or one method of making games, or one way of thinking about games. I am always looking for ways in which the current way I'm making games is failing, and pushing out into some different direction looking for a new way to go about making games. And also trying to make games each time that are very different than what I made previously. You know Gravitation is not that different from Passage?

Jesper:Yes.
Jason:Gravitation is different than Passage in its mechanics and so on, but they almost go as a pair in a lot of ways. They were visually very similar, using some of the same mechanical techniques in terms of interpretable mechanics. And I didn't want to keep making this kind of stuff forever. That was a wakeup call to me.
Jesper:Great. Thanks.