Here we are, everyone...

For those who know me, and for those who follow me on Twitter, you will know that following the release of Poetry in Purgatory, my entry to this year's Otome Jam, I entered a quite severe state of depression. I took days off everything to gather myself, and I return to you now with what I've learned. I have been to the depths of hell (aka my mind) and back, and I've lived to tell the tale. And while I'm not entirely "okay", I'm at least... lucid.

I promise you that I won't hold anything back, and if that scares you, then you should probably leave right now... for things will turn dark. 

But don't worry, for I have illustrated not 1, not 2, but 4 (!) unique images that will surely ease the tension as you behold my magnificently non-existent drawing ability. Seriously though, trigger warning for anxiety, manic episodes and other things that are related to stress and the human mind as it breaks under pressure - especially in Act 3.

Submitted for your approval, one Tymedust, a probably-too-ambitious-for-his-own-good visual novel developer, writer, programmer and project leader whose life and artistic vision had been put to the ultimate test. A man who discovered all too late that his skills in planning projects, among other things, are not as sublime as he had once thought - a lesson to be learned in The Jam Zone.

Post-Project Depression in Purgatory:
A No-holds-barred Postmortem in Four Acts

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Act 1: Prelude (to Purgatory)

When I made Pitstop in Purgatory last year, also for Otome Jam but for the 2022 edition, I had no expectations and barely any Jam experience. I had done NaNoRenO earlier as well as Historically Accurate Game Jam 5, but those projects were both very, very modest and basically me learning the ropes. The games were well received, though, with the latter of the two Jams - which was ranked - saw my entry placing #3 out of over 100 different and really cool games. And NaNo was great for me too, allowing me to work together with Carrot whom I deeply admired and still admire (obviously).

I'm telling you this in order to set the stage a bit. Jams had been nothing but positive experiences for me... but I didn't have much of a following. Despite 3 games out, I think I had less than 50 followers. I was still looking for a chance to have my vision reach a larger audience, and that chance arrived when I found out about Otome Jam 2022. OtoJam had been the host of several very popular indie visual novels, many of which I like a lot, and while I'm admittedly not the biggest fan of the genre, I realized that my vision fit the Jam's format very well. 

And so, I set to work. I was going to make something cool, something awesome, something GREAT. Something with interactive elements. The type of VN that I myself love to play. With morally complex characters, lore, mystery... and of course, a strong romantic plot at the core of it all. 

Players, that is to say you, might be surprised to find out that Pitstop in Purgatory wasn't my first idea for OtoJam 2022. No, in fact I had a fantasy game in mind, containing bounty hunters, conflicted shapeshifters, beautiful men in a more "traditional" style of art and a big-ass world map. Among other things. A friend of mine, who is a cartographer, was going to draw the map. Another friend of mine, a huge fan of history, started writing the world's lore. We had systems in place. Like, deep stuff. Races, religions, fucking democratic processes! All this for a two-month game about star-crossed lovers. But hey, that's the way I like to do it. Complex, sprawling and special.

And then, the artist promptly quit. They had entered the project with great passion, but then left when their ever-increasing demands for ridiculously high payment kept growing. A lesson I learned then was to talk money. It's a supremely shitty subject, but it's a deal-breaker also, obviously. So if you're a developer trying to learn from this devlog, then keep that in mind. Discuss the money and settle the fee. Before you allow yourself to dream. Before you see your entire vision crumble to nothing, like I had to do.

After that, I took to Discord, and for the first and only time I did a public rant on a Discord server. I swore, screamed (caps lock, you know), and did a lot of other unseemly things. People had my back (this community is beautiful, after all), but the best thing that happened was that it connected me with an artist, Alcinus, who to this day blesses my games with his unique style of drawing.

So, lesson number two... be sure to rant in public everything happens for a reason. I'm still trying to remember that one when I'm at my lowest, such as I've been this past week. So keep that in mind as we progress.

Pitstop in Purgatory, the game we made together, was a huge success for me, and it saw me getting 1000s of downloads in just a few days. I went from having no followers to having a cult fanbase which grows to this day. I had nothing and suddenly I had... something. The year progressed and we added new content to the game, including voice acting featuring a truly wonderful cast, and eventually our lil' Jam project made it to Steam as well. A childhood dream fulfilled. Today I'm also running a Discord server and a Patreon, both of which are very modest in size, but contain some of the coolest, most passionate people I've met as a dev. And I feel blessed that they are as attached to the world I've built as I am, and it is in large part due to them that I find myself back to doing this right now, even though I'm currently not feeling very well at all.

It's safe to say that while my games are nowhere near huge, my shared universe of titles is larger than I ever thought it would be. And if I ever come across as ungrateful in my depictions of my mental state throughout this postmortem, please keep in mind that I am very, very thankful for all the support I get from people who enjoy my games. It might sound cliché and/or cheesy, but it really does mean the world to me.

And so, with the stage set... let us move on to Act 2. The dawn of a new age, if you will. The mythic year of 2023, and the Otome Jam of the same name. 

It is the dawn of Pitstop's stand-alone sequel, Poetry in Purgatory. The current bane of my existence, for I love it and I hate it equally.

Act 2: Process (of Purgatory)

"Success is not a ladder, and if it were a ladder, then it would be crooked as fuck and you'd never know which way you're climbing." - Some Guy (Me)

So, yeah. Back in the day I actually had a music career; I was a rock/metal drummer, and in that band we had some high highs and really low lows. One year we were breaking through to the mainstream, even landing a song in Sweden's top 100 radio hits (though very briefly), but not long after that we were reduced to playing club gigs for 10 drunkards at the most. 

What the hell happened, man?

The entertainment business happened, man.

Here's lesson number three (are you keeping count?)... entertainment, no matter if it's music, game development, making films or whatever, isn't like a "normal" job. You're not coming in every day, getting your set pay, and then eventually maybe (or maybe not) getting a promotion which advances you through a set hierarchy. No, entertainment is fucking chaos. Games made for fun by a solo dev in an hour can gain YouTube stardom, and games made by dedicated teams running on fumes and a tight budget (both in terms of time and money) can just as easily be instantly forgotten. There is no logic, and if there is any, it is mysterious and fickle. 

This is a painful truth, but it is also an oddly comforting one... potentially. Like, maybe we shouldn't take things so seriously? It will all turn out okay, after all? That kind of mindset.

But no, that's not how I work. I go to town, baby. I work hard or I don't work at all. It's a blessing and a curse, but it's the way I am. I have to look at something and feel like "okay, I did the BEST I could, no corners were cut" - or else I can't look at it at all. This is also something to keep in mind as we advance through my ramblings.

I wasn't sure I was going to make a sequel to Pitstop, but it was my most successful game by far. And the story has so much room to advance, room that I desperately wanted (and want) to explore. So when my screen lit up, announcing the existence of Otome Jam 2023, I knew what I had to do. I called the banners, i.e. my loyal crew, and thankfully they all wanted to return for another round of awesomeness.

Lots of challenges awaited us, though. I wanted this game to be bigger, bolder, better. In every sense of the word. But in the same amount of time (eek). Stuff that I wanted in Pitstop, such as a world map and free exploration, optional content, ambitious things like that... this was their time to shine. Although, it all had to be standalone as well. I wanted (and want!) people who haven't played Pitstop to enjoy Poetry. And all things considered, I think we've struck a good balance between rewarding returning players and gently introducing new ones to the world.

As always, I started with a huge mind-map courtesy of MindMeister (I warmly recommend this free service for all your mind-mappy needs). I instantly saw that my vision was much too grand to finish in two months, at least I had that kind of clarity with me. So I decided that this was going to be episodic, or rather, in the spirit of a "single player live service game". A complex, intricate and engaging main story, but also optional content that would (and will) get added over time. Optional routes with the ability to do as much or as little as you want and see it reflected in the main narrative. Small characters adding flourish to the world, and easter eggs that make everything seem larger. An alignment system with lots of unique variables. A day/night cycle. All the good stuff. Just writing this is making me exhausted all over again.

I still struggle to refer to it as episodic or a demo, though, as I see it more as a game which is constantly evolving, if that makes sense? I'm not sure how that looks through a promotional perspective, but frankly, I don't give a shit about that right now. Too much else on my mind.

I then converted my MindMeister chaos into a workflow for me and my artist to follow, using Trello. Another warm recommendation. Truly, without MindMeister and Trello there would be no games from me, I can tell you that much.

At first, there was waaay too much in the Trello to do in 2 months. I had to cut stuff; 2 routes became 1 route, several scenes were removed or fused with others, and the amount of CGs had to be drastically minimized in favor of more BGs, since what use would there be to have an open world if there are no places to actually visit? Even with all that, though, I still felt disbelief looking at the workload. I had just compromised my ass off, and I couldn't think of anything else to remove. This is what I was stuck with. With about 6 weeks left 'til launch, we were looking at:

* A whole new framework of code to learn, since the one we used in Pitstop wouldn't work with the day/night cycle
* 30+ art assets of varying sizes
* 50+ scenes
* At least 10k extra words of incidental dialogue with NPCs

Among other things.

Like, what the hell was I thinking?!

But hey, bigger and better. That's the motto. This game had to be bigger than Pitstop to justify its existence. It had to keep returning players interested, and it had to offer something new for players who were entering my world for the first time, or perhaps didn't like Pitstop but still deigned to give this new one a chance (thank you, if so). I'm not saying this is the absolute truth, but it is what my mind was telling me. And the mind is sometimes a terrible thing to taste.

The shots were fired, it was off to the races, it was time to pay the piper, get on stage and start singing them high notes. There was no turning back. I couldn't fail my fanbase, I couldn't fail my team and I certainly couldn't fail myself. But it was all going to be worth it, since this launch would bring my career to the next level. The Discord and Patreon would grow, and surely the allure of a free, ambitious game which constantly evolves would be enough for my vision to truly take on the shape I had always wished it to have. Surely.

If only I remembered, then, that success isn't a ladder. It's not a straight line. It just... is. 

Fuck.

Act 3: Payoff (to Purgatory)

With one week left until launch, things were looking very dire. Both me and my artist were missing deadlines and communication was somehow scarce and too intense at the same time. The wages of stress. Hell, I even took time off work to dedicate more time to the game (oh, yeah, maybe I forgot to mention that I'm also working a full-time job while all of this madness is taking place). 

The following is an account of what went through my head those last days of development, and the days immediately after it. Trigger warning ahead. Please keep in mind that this is me trying to accurately reconstruct what I went through and where my head was at. I feel better now, and these thoughts do not accurately portray my feelings or values about anything. These are events fueled by desperation. And reliving them is tough, but I want this to be written down before I entirely forget about it. For me, but also for others who might find it useful. I don't know. 

To more accurately recreate it, also, I'm going to use a stream of consciousness style of writing. So once again I want to warn readers that things might get harrowing.

Anyway, here we go:

6 days left. I feel like I can still do this. I just need to focus, I need to think of the rewards. The next stage. The huge launch. If Pitstop gave me 2500+ downloads in the first two days, just think of how well Poetry will do. It's a given. It's all going to be worth it. Vacation from work starts now. There's nothing to stop me from crunching. Hah, crunching... funny word. People throw it around all the time, they're just complaining, they don't know how to work hard. I do. And I fucking will.

5 days left. The first panic attack comes. I throw a TV-controller into the wall, breaking it into small pieces. No more TV for me today, I thought, while screaming and kicking various doors in my apartment. Fuck, fuck, fuck... I'm not going to make it. But I keep working. Every second counts. From this point on I'm working 15-16 hours per day on my game, stopping only for food and other human necessities.

4 days left. Just like me, my artist is struggling to meet deadlines. I lash out at him, questioning whether or not he will finish. The game is due in just a few days and we're missing a shitload of assets. This is impossible. I know in my heart of hearts that being angry at my team won't get me anywhere, but the feelings are too much. I have another panic attack. This isn't fun anymore. I throw my computer mouse in the wall, it breaks, and I go for a long walk. I tell my Twitter that it's out of batteries or some shit, I lied to people because I wanted sympathy points. Sorry for doing that. I didn't have to write anything about it but I wanted to update someone, because I was alone, stressed and fucked up. And so much left to do still. I'm sorry for lashing out. I'm a mess. Fuck my life. I should have never started making games.

3 days left. I haven't had a shower in a week. There's dust everywhere. I feel like a fucking homeless person, but I don't give a shit because this damn thing has to be done. I keep up appearances. I seem happy and excited on Twitter and on Discord but I'm seething. If anyone says something even slightly wrong, I'll explode. But I'll do it behind closed doors, because no one should suffer pain that I've brought onto myself. I fucking suck, I'm worthless, no one will play this game, what am I even doing? No. No. No. Stay focused, it will all be worth it. This will be fantastic. It will be worth it. I can't give up now. I have to keep writing. But I don't want to, the writing never stops, and the rewrites, and all the fucking NPCs, what the fucking fuck am I doing?! I need a smoke even though I haven't smoked for 10 years. Why the hell did I start thinking about that? I'm not okay. I'm not okay at all. When was the last time I even ate? Fuck it, I need to program this damn quest sequence. I'll worry about my health later. 

2 days left. I remember all the times I used the word "crunch". I thought I crunched then, but it's nothing compared to now. Crunch, stress, project-related depression, you have no fucking idea what you're talking about. If you can still log on and talk about it without crying, then that isn't it. This is it. And it fucking sucks.

1 day left. I'm still standing, somehow. Or sitting, I guess. I want to give up, I want to die, I want it all to be over. This is supposed to be fun. How did it come to this? Why did I do this to myself? Fuck it. Only a few more words. I need to get this out. My playtesters need to get the game. Fuck, they're not going to get it in time. Hopefully someone will be awake tonight. Maybe they can play it. Goddamnit, I do not deserve such awesome players. I'm not doing right by them. I'm failing them if I fail at this game. I must complete it. I must. I fucking must.

Release day. Somehow, the game is done. Playtesters are providing great input, I can fix most of that stuff. Not the bigger stuff, not the fucking bugs, but other stuff. Thank God. I only need to write a pamphlet now. 30+ entries in a few hours, can I do it? With no time for rewrites or anything? Yes, I fucking can. Time is 8 PM. We need to launch. Where's the fucking trailer? The page design? Oh, thank God... there are images we can use. Let's just put it up there. But I want to wait for the trailer. FUCK, I can't launch without a trailer!! People will think I half-assed it. What kind of game launches without a trailer?! Fuck it, we'll do a teaser. That's all we have time for. Let's just get it out of the door. Out with it. It's going to be worth it. Worth. It. Trailer will come later.

It's out. It's out. It's... out. And for a few hours, I feel bliss. We made it somehow. I feel happy. The playtesters are loving it. I can let it go. For now. But tomorrow I have to start promoting it. I'm not out of the woods yet. But I'll get energy from all the views and downloads. I can do this for a while longer. It's time to enjoy the fruits of my hard labor. Our hard labor. Poetry in Purgatory is v 0.1 is finally out, somehow.

Day after release. Why... are there so... few... views... and downloads? What the fuck is going on? Am I doing bad in the Jam? No, wait... I'm top 10. What the actual fuck?! WHAT THE-

Two days after release. Kill me. Kill me. Kill me. It was all for nothing. This has to be a fucking joke. I can't take another panic attack yet somehow I survive that one too. Why did I do this to myself?

Three days after release. I somehow manage to make scheduled Twitter posts and do some promotion. Then I pull the plug. I can't fucking deal with any of this right now.

Was all of this just a huge mistake?

I'm a failure. A fucking failure.

I don't deserve to make games.

I don't deserve anything.

Fuck me.

Act 4: Posterity (in Purgatory)

Alright, back to normal broadcast. I'm sorry for the harrowing nature of Act 3, but I felt like I had to do my best to capture what I went through in order for my state of mind to make sense. Thanks for enduring up until now! <3

Time away from things grants the gift of perspective, which is sorely needed in many cases. So I'm hoping that the rest of the devlog will leave you with a positive vibe overall, if you've managed to make it this far.

So, obviously, I wasn't in a clear state of mind at all during the late stages of development. But I kept leaning on the "fact" that Poetry was going to be as successful as Pitstop, or at least nearly so. I didn't necessarily need it to surpass Pitstop, but I had expectations, and while I'm normally quite good at managing those I didn't feel like they were too extravagant to have. After all, my following had considerably grown, and everything that made Pitstop good is in Poetry too, and perhaps even better if all the lovely reviews are to be believed (which I think they are). So, yeah. What could go wrong?

A lot of things, apparently. OtoJam itself has, according to what I've heard, not done as well this year. Due in no small part to the fact that a lot of mainstream otome games are coming out now, which has a tendency to steal the light away from the indies. That's the way of things, unfortunately.

To tell you the truth, I was furious with OtoJam for a while. I felt deceived, as silly as it may sound. Like the Jam owed me something after last year's success. Obviously I don't really feel that way, I know how hard the crew behind OtoJam works and I'm extremely thankful to be a part of it, but there and then I truly felt hatred, disgust... everything. Although that's clearly on me; I know that. But the feeling was there at the time, and it was strong.

Poetry has still done good in the Jam. It's been in the top for the majority of it, and it's brought new fans on board. Not nearly as much as I had hoped, but still, it's progress. I totally understand if you as a reader think of me as ungrateful; after all, the kind of attention Poetry is getting now is something I could only have dreamed about before Pitstop came out. And it's only been a week since release. But that's the price of success, you start expecting things. But this kind of thing humbles you, and forces you to confront the important question of "Why do I make games?".

Is it, ultimately, to be famous? Loved? Successful? No. I made games even when only a single friend could play it. And the fact that I less than a week ago thought I'd sell my PC and quit developing, only to return and write this bible-length devlog, is proof that I'm in it because I love it. And Poetry is something I care for very deeply, and I'm very motivated and excited about supporting it long-term, eventually building it into the game I want it to be... the mythic, exotic v 1.0.

I want to make it very clear that this whole thing was a skewed mindset resulting from doing too much in too little time, which sent me into post-project depression (something I didn't even know was an actual, well-researched thing before this happened). I don't really mind my games not taking off. I'd prefer it if they did, of course, but I've always said that I'd rather have a few dedicated fans than many fickle ones. And I feel like that's the kind of crowd that is drawn to my games. 

And I love you all, as much as a weird game developer from Sweden can possibly love someone he's never met. Really, truly.

So, what do I take with me from this whole experience? Going forward, how do I avoid this from happening again? And what can others learn?

Don't do too much. Like, seriously. The line between pushing yourself and absolutely fucking breaking is thinner than you expect. Trust me, I just realized it myself. I always thought, arrogantly, that I was above burning out as a dev. I crunched, worked hard, and it didn't happen. Then it did. Shit's real, peeps. And it's not worth it.

I'm very thankful for my friends, and especially my wife, for having my back and standing by me through development. I've been neglectful socially, and behaved badly, all caused by stress and ambition. I'm currently repairing the damage I've done there, and I'm blessed that the people around me understand. Even writing this I'm overcome with emotion, thinking "why did I let things go this far". It's just a game, it's just a hobby, after all (or "jobby" as my wife says since I do treat my hobby as a job lol).

That's just the way I am. I'm passionate. For better or worse. That's no excuse to mess yourself, or those around you, up, though. So don't do that. Do things in moderation. Let this devlog be a cautionary tale.

If you've read this far, I salute you. And I hope you're enjoying my games. Because contrary to what you may believe at this point, I really do love making them, and I'm very proud of them. As my stress and anxiety resides, I can't wait to get back in. But don't worry, I've learned my lesson.

...

Really, I have.

Much love,

Tymedust