UNTITLED
Blog Posted October 8, 2025
A few years ago, I regained the passion I once had for the creative arts.Last year, I came away from CGDC with many new friends and a lot more inspiration to take on a sequel to my game.
This year, I had every reason to believe this CGDC was going to be even better. Instead of a college campus, it took place at a downtown convention center. There were more speakers, more activities, and even more people to meet. There was even an industry veteran reviewing a handful of select games, and my newest demo was selected as one of them. The conference was also within driving distance (only a handful of hours away from Grand Rapids, Michigan), and friend I met last year happily volunteered to drive my wife and I. On the day before the festivities we checked into our hotel, pre-registered for the conference, marveled at the massive heap of concrete and steel that was laid out before us, and reunited with some familiar faces at a nearby restaurant. I could not have been any more excited about what was to come.
This, unfortunately, was the high point of the trip.
Within ten minutes of the opening ceremony, one of the speakers became somber and teary-eyed about "changes going forward" and how all of us should be prepared for them. I walked out of there a little concerned, but figured it would be great to talk about over lunch with my crew. But the food -- along with parking and other things -- came at a super-premium, and expenses were quickly starting to add up. We attempted to walk somewhere to save money, but my wife started developing physical problems. All of a sudden, I was hit with a massive sense of dread and my mind became flooded with thoughts like "I shouldn't be a light to anyone if I can't properly take care of anyone" and "I should delete my game off these computers."
There was a designated prayer / wellness station at the conference, which I immediately went to. I had a few people pray over me and helped me sort out my thought process, at least on the surface level. They wanted me to come back a little later, but nobody was there when I showed back up. I chalked it up to them probably being busy and went to the exhibit instead. But then I noticed that nobody was playing my game, and after sticking around for a bit I realized why: My game wasn't even included in the showcase reel. That was also chalked up as an accident and was eventually addressed... but I could already feel my mind working overtime to put facts over feelings. I had a few opportunities to present my game, but it was often to a crowd of zero. This sharply contrasted last year when I had lots of people playing and beating my game to completion -- achievements and all.
The rest of the expo were occupied by many Christian companies and their products, which might have been cool if my wife and I weren't already hundreds of dollars in the red. I had trouble staying engaged with most of the other speakers ( note that I did not struggle with energy at all last year ), and a good chunk of the sessions involved artificial intelligence. That stuff could very well be the future, but for now any creator using it is just begging to be crucified on the internet. There was one speaker that lost me not even within two minutes of talking:
"...so I kind of bummed around a bit after college until I got this writing gig at {insert famous company here}."
Wait, what? Seriously? How did that just happen? Many people spend their entire lives getting that kind of job, and you just had it drop on your lap? So success is apparently the byproduct of dumb luck? Got it. Thank you for the two hours of the conference that I can nap outside guilt-free.The only thing that really kept me going were the few fellowship events sprinkled throughout. At the end of the first night, a good chunk of people went to a family fun center full of indoor activities. At the end of the second night, there were many tabletop games to be experienced. There was even an elaborate setup for Sunday morning worship. But towards the end of the conference, I was feeling very hungry, very spent, and very discouraged. I didn't even bother showing up to my final presentation slot, and I was openly telling my boss I'd rather be at work.
The one thing that might have turned this experience around for me ended up sealing the deal. When I showed off my game to the aforementioned industry veteran, they admitted that my product was quite polished and quirky but ultimately told me to shelve it. They apparently found it to be “not marketable”, which I’ll touch on momentarily. If nothing else, I was hoping I would be led in some kind of direction. Maybe I was being too ambitious or maybe not marketing myself correctly. Maybe all I really wanted was to collaborate with other Christian devs and that my demo was really a cry for help to get out of this dark place I have been in. But they advised against even that and told me to create something that my audience wants... completely ignoring the fact that I don't even have a church to call home.
You might have noticed that I haven't posted any pictures on here. That's because right after they had left, I ended up deleting every photo I had taken in a fit of rage and looked up the quickest Uber out of there. It was a long quiet ride back home, and I spent the next few weeks in isolation.
...
And that's about where I am right now. I could give the benefit of the doubt, because it was clear from the beginning that many of the leaders were concerned about how the changes would pan out. And coming from the restaurant field, I should know that an experience marred with misunderstandings, mistimings, and unforeseen consequences is bound to happen no matter how well-prepared a business or organization is. Maybe everyone else was having the time of their lives, and I was one of the unfortunate few who beared the brunt of those growing pains. Maybe all the fun I was supposed to have was just for last year, and everything else simply wasn't meant for me.
On the other hand, maybe the punch in the frathouse is already starting to curdle. Who just says something isn’t “marketable”, even if it is true? What if the only business any of us ought to have is simply being obedient to the Lord, and that whatever results and numbers that happen are ultimately His business? To just abandon what I have and replace it with nothing is, in my unprofessional opinion, the bane of self-love and care. And I think that's a little important if anyone is genuinely in the business of loving others as ourselves.
It honestly doesn't matter, because I'm going to keep doing what I've been doing. Because it keeps me interested and challenged. Because it makes me feel like I have a thousand moving parts. Because it makes me feel alive.
And maybe that's all I need in whatever ministry I still have left. If that veteran was right about anything, it's giving my audience what they want. It may not be the church crowd, but I sure do know a lot of people pounding drugs and booze to lose themselves on any given moment. "Woah there, buddy... I'm feeling lost too, but life hasn't completely beat the creativity out of me somehow. And something tells me you're not here by accident either."
"Why don't we figure this stuff out together?"
📻 "Wake me up."
