One of my friends pointed out an interesting quirk that people sometimes have. He said that he feels more comfortable when he is in a group where he is different - or the outsider - than he is when he is in a group among his so-called peers. "It feels weird," he said, "because I feel like I should have a bond with these people who are suppose to be my peers, but I usually don't." In the end, he said he ends up feeling emptier than he would among a non-peer group.

I have run into this stumbling block, both in life and within my game development. Most recently I tripped (and subsequently fell) on this block with my latest gaming project, Ladybug. The desire to do something different - and magnificent, if you will - propelled me into a year of research and ideas and concepts. My vision for the game had evolved and changed over that time.

However, now a year later, I have yet to write one line of code. My notepads are filled with specific area details, but there is still no world map. The many plot ideas are yet to be synthesized into one, homogeneous whole. In other words, the game is still in my head.

I've written in some of my other columns about letting a game idea "marinate": giving adequate time for all the game visions and concepts to flow and form. Ladybug, my friends, is an example of over-marination.

Going back to my friend's point, the problem with my project was that my stakes were too high - at least in my brain. To get acquainted with C, I came out with Angel Hair, which some dismissed as silly. At the beginning of the Ladybug project I had already been studying and writing on the game industry for a while. And, finally, I had a game design column. Yeah, I thought, Ladybug better be good. I can't come out with something average.

Like a too eager quarterback, I choked. Cutting myself some slack, over the past year I have moved four times, been very socially active and got a second degree in journalism. With these elements combined, the pressure was very much on and my scope had to be broader than games.

However, that's no excuse and I realize now that if I took my OWN advice and pursued simpler projects I could have had at least two games on the net by now. And they say the shoemaker's family has no shoes.

So, I have the fear of being average, like many fellow programmers and designers out there. How many of us attempted to recreate Space Invaders with our first foray into programming, instead of learning to print "Hello, world" on the screen? And how many of us have made convoluted and complicated designs, instead of using an established, well-regarded standard? I believe the answer to both questions is "Very Many."

That, it seems, is the nature of the beast and it seems that for all of us our personal beast must be tamed.

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Written by Damon Brown.