I want to talk about the Game Makers Guild, but apparently I need to write about some buried sh!t from the past.
I was still in a whirlwind when we left PAX Unplugged in Philly and flew home to Boston. My mind was abuzz with questions and possibilities, fears and doubts. Could this work? What the hell was I doing? Where do I start? Why should this be any different than any of my other failed attempts at a creative life? What makes me so damn special?
All my life I’d been told time and time again that I was destined for mediocrity. As the immortal Dread Pirate Roberts proclaims, “Life is pain. Anybody who says otherwise is selling something.” So to be painfully blunt, after my mother died I was raised by an alcoholic father and an abusive grandmother. Both of whom hated their lives so much that they…
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