Stratus Fighters: A Post Mortem
At the beginning of this project I thought I knew how much work it would take. But, unsurprisingly, I was grossly underestimating the amount of work it takes to make a game. Even a small one. I was incredibly lucky to end up with the team I did, we all got along straight away and there was no butting heads or “my idea is better than yours” kind of attitudes. Just a bunch of guys that were really excited to make a game.
After the first couple of weeks in pre-alpha I still had grandiose ideas of how smooth it would all go and how easy the next couple of months would be. My role as producer on the team had me scoping out the entire project. Converting all scripts and art assets I thought we’d need into trello cards, attaching hour amounts of how long I thought they would take. When the first week of alpha started and production began I was confident that we would have over half the time given to us left to polish a finished game. Oh boy, was I wrong...
The team was still bursting at the seams with excitement, there was lots of laughter and goofing around and we’d all go for drinks every Wednesday. The daily scrums weren’t as “business meeting” as I had intended, we would all just swing our chairs around have a brief chat, then I would dole out trello cards and we’d get to work. The first scripts and meshes were getting ticked off really quickly, to the point that I thought we’d have to scope up in order to keep the artists and programmers busy. The burndown chart was showing we had finished over 80 hours of work in the first couple of days, and I wasted no time in telling the team how awesome they all were and how we had this project in the bag.
Presentation time and although we didn’t get torn apart like some of the other teams in our presentation group, the feedback was that we needed some major changes to our movement. Given that our main mechanic was in fact moving, it needed to be the most refined. So that’s when one of our programmers was put specifically on refining movement - for the rest of the project that’s what he did. Other feedback was that we needed to shrink the size of the arena. During the industry presentation we set up a prototype build of the game and had some of the industry guys fly around our greyboxed level - the response wasn’t good. They we’re unable to find each other and one of the players glitched out completely after trying out our barrel roll. After this the team’s previous arrogance towards game development was all but gone. We knew we had a lot of work to do.
During beta the team was a different sight, the laughing and goofing around had been replaced by exasperated sighs, and the weekly drinks had long been forgotten. The trello cards were falling slower, many of them had to be reworked or removed completely as time was becoming more and more of a threat. Problems started popping up whenever we would try to test a build, and without being able to test, we were unable to iterate on our design. The mood was dropping and stress levels were rising.
Enter gold and all the contingency time I scoped in was all but gone. Where I thought we would be polishing a working game, we were still trying to get a build to work and fix this bug that had been plaguing us from the moment we plugged in two controllers. So much time was spent trying to track it down and find out what was causing it, but all endeavors were fruitless. It wasn’t until the final week of production that we found it had nothing to do with our code, but was just a matter of plugging the controllers in slowly and one at a time (are you freakin’ kidding me?!). It was a race against the clock at the end, but I am so proud of our buggy little baby.
Overall the experience has taught me so much in such a short amount of time. If i could go back in time, I would absolutely change certain things - but instead of looking back and dwelling on the past - I’m going to take what I’ve learned and use it to better my projects in the future.















