My mom sometimes talks about how I was as a child. I was very creative, always wanting to build something..

One of my favorite pastimes was building blocks. With a wide-eyed grin, I'd take the lettered blocks, one by one, and arrange a pyramid. Or a wall.

All was not well, however. Slowly my face would darken. The smile would dissipate. I was getting mad.

In a fit as swift as the wind I would swipe the masterpiece back into little, unattached squares. Playtime was over. The structure didn't fit my vision.

I outgrew my impatience after playing with blocks for a little while. However, my whole attitude foreshadowed my life - I was doomed to be a game designer.

We're cursed. Positively, video game designers have and, if they are good, maintain an incredible vision for the final product. Negatively, video game designers have and, if they are good, maintain an incredible vision for the final product. How our strength is played out is based on our own personal discipline.

One of my most difficult experiences this year was, as I was deciding on my first C project, putting away my crisp, new design document for a Role Playing Game. And aborting my idea for a side-scrolling adventure. And ... you get the idea.

I instead dug out a simple, childlike game concept I came up with four years ago - the game that would eventually become Angel Hair.

Easy development, huh?

Not in the least. Everyday I debated if I was wasting my time. "This is a stupid game. I could be making Metroid 4...I couldn't sell this to my grandpa..."

Okay, it wasn't that bad. But it wasn't easy. After I finished, however, I glowed like a 2-year old. I realized what I had done:

*I made a game playable by everyone, including grandpa

*I created simple but colorful graphics that did not lessen nor overpower the game experience

*It didn't crash every five seconds - or at all I, in a sense, was back on the floor, playing with blocks again.

Learning C was putting the first set of blocks down. Angel Hair, my first C game project, was putting a second layer of blocks on top of the first. And, in my position now, I can get a little creative with my games. I have the highest respect for those who are already "well-built designers," like Sirocco, who has been working on the incredible freeware RPG Fenix Blade for years.

But I'm not there yet. Zelda's creator started with Donkey Kong. Quake's creators started with Commander Keen, a simple side-scroller. And even Final Fantasy's creator started with Rad Racer, a simple Nintendo game. We all have to start somewhere. We all have to start somewhere small.

But, as history has shown, there will always be the vision: "I want to make a 64-bit RPG with AI higher than anything on the market and with infinite playability..."

And the reality: "Work has stopped on Ultima Final Fantasy XXI because I'm tired and, quite frankly, disappointed with the results..." I've been there. And I may be there again soon.

Nevertheless, as designers we must try to rate our project not on the vision itself - translating the full vision usually isn't possible - but as a compromise between our vision and our limitation and capabilities as game makers.

We must be honest enough with ourselves to accept our own level of design maturity.

Or we'll all be on the floor, unprepared for reality, slapping our own hard work down in a childish fit.

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Written by Damon Brown.