So, the thing I first envisioned solely as a “GDC Travelogue” has expanded a little in scope (write a book with game developers in, start having the same problems as they do?!) — it explores the experience of GDC and the people I visit with there, but it’s also got broader thoughts on games writing, travel, and on being someone who does both those things for a living. I’m really excited to be able to publish it for you.

So, release date slightly delayed, but only so I can make it WAY BETTER. We have all heard this one before.

BUT:

 

Speaking of traveling (and speaking), I talked at Different Games this past weekend — gave my keynote on what games can learn from the grunge era. You can watch that one online here, starting at 23:00 or so. I also did fairly comprehensive coverage of a spectacular sex in games panel featuring Merritt Kopas, Naomi Clark, Lizzy Stark and Nina Freeman. Def read their wide-ranging views about the design challenges of games that are hot.

AND — here is a new excerpt from the travelogue for you, from an early-ish part of the week in San Francisco. Ideally this is the last one I’ll release for free before actually editing and completing the thing, and making it Commercially Available. Thanks everyone who’s been so interested and supportive.

———————

There is something deeply wrong with San Francisco.

If you squint at it, you can almost imagine some kind of William Gibson-type tech utopia overlaid on it, like a projection of the future. Think about Google Bus, Google Glass and Oculus VR, and how they’re actually real things that exist. Remember, you are being treated extra well by hotel staff as an envoy of a conference that brings $46 million dollars to the city. You’re the future.

I’m the future, you’ll think, as you see the city flagged and bedecked to welcome you to the epicenter of an entire digital medium. Your inbox is full of emails from people who want to tell you about their future. You’re going to get up behind more than one podium this week and squint into bright lights and talk about what you think about the future, and people will line up to listen.

Taste the words “Silicon Valley” and imagine the Matrix-world sprawling out to the south of you like a further level in the platformer of your life. Can you hear the music? You are a pixel silhouette weaving among spires. This week you will talk to people who have more money than you will ever be able to imagine in your life.

And everywhere the streets are cradling the deeply ill, uneasily. There are homeless people in every city, of course, but it’s never so upsetting as here. Some crucial component of the infrastructure is just absent, and no one seems to care. You exit your hotel room. There are paths to the E and W. To your EAST, a man is lying on a piece of cardboard. You think he might be dead.

>LOOK MAN

He’s breathing, but barely. You walk DOWNTOWN. The sidewalks are so clean they literally sparkle. At night when you walk around here, they glitter wetly, like they have to be hosed down every single night. You see a woman in a thin gown, dancing on the corner. You can see parts of her body that somehow you don’t think she intends to show.

>TALK WOMAN

She answers, but you can’t understand her. She waves to someone who doesn’t seem to be there.

You continue NORTH. You are going to BRUNCH to which your employer is treating you and your team to thank you for your hard WORK. A man with bare feet mutters something threatening to you.

The doorway of an OFFICE BUILDING is full of his belongings: a blanket, some empty cups, a sign you can’t read.

>TAKE ALL

He has nothing more to TAKE. You don’t want to touch any of what’s left.

>GIVE DOLLAR

That wouldn’t help him. He needs a lot more than that.

You stand on the edge of a vast CHASM between a world where ideas and promises and faith are worth literally millions of dollars, and everywhere you look is someone who has no place to go, who has been deeply failed by her fellow humans, who probably has no way back. The bridge has been destroyed a long time ago.

You have a distinct and uncomfortable feeling about which side of the CHASM you have ended up on.

To the WEST is a vast sea of abandonment and human need. To the EAST is the restaurant where you are having brunch and mimosas with your coworkers at your internet publication.

>WEST

You can’t go that way.

>WEST

There’s nothing you can do.

>WEST

Go drink your free mimosas and get ready for your conference.

>EAST

There you go.