We all have had times (newbies, pay attention) when the eternal flame seems to almost burn out. Game development takes a backseat, then a detour, and, finally, an off ramp out of your life. The danger is more imminent for those of us, like myself, who don't make their bread and butter on games. I'm a journalist, an occultist and a disc jockey. You might have a family, a 40-plus hour job, rent that's due.

And let's be honest - it is a pretty rough time to be an independent. There are many products and freeware to support us, but comparing our work (graphically or monetarily) to the major titles out there can be depressing. On top of that, our own community can be our worst enemy, criticizing and analyzing every bit of an independent game.

What keeps us going then? It's not the fame (yeah, right) and it sure as hell isn't the fortune. The mainstream media in general has not recognized independent games as an art, nevertheless a serious venture. And family and friends, for one reason or another, aren't always as supportive as they should be.

We do gain something by being independent game developers, however. It is the same emotional injection experienced by an independent painter, or a self-publishing novelist, or a Central Park pianist.

What we gain is the fulfillment of our ideas to the limits of our own personal capacity, and a firm connection between the participants and our ideas. There are few other fields where there is a direct link from the artist and their audience - and just as strong of a link back.

When we create a level of a game, we anticipate a certain interactive experience with the player. We know that when the player hits a certain area he or she will react in a certain way, e.g. fear.

Now, as you know, that isn't anything extraordinary, since movie directors and novelists have been doing that for years. What is unique, however, is how the player is able to react back. He or she is can become petrified and lose a guy. Or the player can evade the danger and move on to the next stage.

Or the player can email you and say "Your game sucks!"

Spielberg, Grisham, or even the mighty Miyamoto don't get that close. They have reputations (and egos) on the line, but they are protected. They don't regularly chat with everyone who has used their product. They don't have to read pages and pages of letters telling them how their ending sucked. They don't have to face the crowd directly.

Even more importantly, the big dogs have three-year plans and thousand-page design docs - they can't be on the design cutting edge. Dozens of innovative games would have been released on the net by the time they come out with one.

So, in the struggle to program one more line of code, lets not forget why we are so tired. It is because we are the innovators. It is because we are the first infantry.

It is because we are on the front lines.

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Written by Damon Brown.