It’s time to let those ideas float away, clear the allotted terrain in my mental space for new ideas, and maybe start work on building those a bit sooner. They’re outdated, irrelevant purely by the passage of time, or simply have reached an almost mythological status in my imagination. I have ideas that have been building this incredible tower of expectations and hopes, in impossible fidelity and flawless execution, and it’s time to admit that I’ve let those ideas construct that tower for too long. Sure, every building is built with a first stone, but if the drawing tells you to build a tower into space because the architect just couldn’t stop drawing, no construction worker will take on that job.Īnd I guess, looking at my life, I’ve got a lot of construction workers that saw the drawings and walked away. And the architect is unstoppable, so they add new floors and helipads and in-building airports and a slide from the 249 th floor to the 3 rd floor. Walls emerge, then rooms and floors and – if your construction workers haven’t started doing some work – the task suddenly starts seeming unsurmountable. At first, it’s a single pillar, but as things evolve, the plans get more complex. Any time you spend any mental time on the plan, your architect starts drawing ideas, plotting the ground, and moving from there. Depending on how complex the idea is, and how important the idea feels, the architect is allotted a larger part of your mental city plan. It’s far from a perfect metaphor, but think of ideas as unstoppable architects and your execution as little construction workers. What is important is that concrete planning is distinct from abstract planning – contacting a potential collaborator is concrete, while thinking I wish this person would join my team is not. It’s a simple concept, but it’s been occupying my brain for quite a while since. The four friends left again without even looking at the game.Ī while ago I was introduced to the concept of idea debt – which approximately states that any time spent on planning an idea without taking concrete efforts to realizing it will increase the mental friction to actually starting those efforts. “Oh wow, you’re right, these are amazing!” One of them sat down, looked up to their friends and nodded. The friends stopped, came over and picked one of the station. On the second day, a group of four friends walked past our booth, one of them pointing at the Nuclear Throne banner and excitedly exclaiming “this is that game!”. The first day was a massive success, and nothing exceptional happened. Together with the usual Vlambeer booth crew, we were done with setup in under two hours.
The laptops were set up within twenty minutes, and we loaded a playable build onto them. We set up all four, one for each playable station, and got ready for the show. So Adriel drove me and all the stuff I’d bought back to the showfloor, and we set up one of the bungee chairs, sat down in it and they were amazing. Target’s entirely chair isle consisted of chairs as expensive as the televisions, and I was about to give up when I spotted four bungee chairs – not what I was looking for, and probably not super comfortable, but they’d suffice. Things went really well, and I quickly found a bunch of cheap televisions and computers, table cloth and power strips – but one thing I couldn’t find was chairs. We were a bit late with preparation for the PAX South booth again, so the night before the event mostly involved racing around the San Antonio periphery visiting Best Buy and Target.
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