depression

GenCon 50: Real Talk

There’s a lot of pressure to be positive even when you’re feeling anything but because people smell weakness and instinctively hate it. But there aren’t a ton of people who read this anyway so why waste energy lying to an audience that’s almost/mostly not there?

GenCon 50 was kind of a bummer.

We lost a LOT of money by being there, not because we didn’t sell a lot of games (and “Comrade Octo-Stalin” T-Shirts), but because the overhead was crazy, our booth was in the ass end of nowhere, and we didn’t have a marketing strategy in place going in. Everything was very seat-of-the-pants. I enjoyed some of the demos I got to run, but I didn’t sell games right off of the demos, which always makes me feel like I failed.

Probably most importantly, in spite of having more help at the booth than we’ve ever had before–courtesy of Mike Myler and friends plus our promising-is-an-understatement new Director of Marketing Tytiana Browne–I felt like I spent as much of the con as ever running around like a headless chicken, freaking out over Systems Malfunction not being done, trying frantically to coordinate and manage people’s efforts even when I wasn’t shackled to the booth. Probably worst of all, I managed to miss out on catching up and socializing with nearly all of the friends and colleagues that I only get to see at GenCon, losing a never-ending game of booth tag with cool cats from Rich DeBarba to Ron Edwards. I missed out on stuff that I wanted to see to commemorate the fact that I, Devon Oratz, however small a part, was personally there at the 50th annual Geneva Convention, inaugurated by E. Gary Gygax in 1968. I missed out on the They Might Be Giants concert. I missed out on the GenCon museum and Lucas Oil stadium. And I missed all of these things because of my frantic fretting over the fortunes of a game company that shows distressing signs of failing.

I don’t have time to feel sad about this stuff. I don’t have time to feel anything. DragonCon is the first weekend in September and even though it’s a last-minute arrangement this time around, we’re going to be there with bells on, as exhibitors. Maybe I’ll see you there.

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Crawling Out of the Muck and Mire

It’s a new year! 2016 is over…really, it’s over. Which is quite a relief, because 2016 was a shitshow of never before seen proportions, start to finish trash-fire 100%. Most people mention all the beloved celebrities who died, but for me it’s the election of the Goddamn antichrist for President of the United States and everything that implies that really seals the deal on 2016 being the worst year ever: that and the fact that it was a bad year for me personally (the worst year of my life on record, to be clear), and many friends and acquaintances.

But it is over. 2017 is here. Three days into a brand new years. I have plans I’m trying to put into immediate action to move m’family (that’s Mikaela and myself and our furry friends) to a new location. 2017 should be a new start, filled with End Transmission Games and therefore myself making and building and releasing all kinds of cool and interesting things. But just right now, if I’m to be honest, I’m having trouble, emotionally speaking, crawling free of the wreckage of 2016 and figuring out how to operate as a real human person again which is, most likely, a basic prerequisite for game design work of any kind. What I’m dealing with is almost certainly clinical depression–I’m on more psychiatric medication than ever before in my life, and none of it is working particularly well. The temptation is there to ditch all of the pills in frustration, but I am well advised what a bad idea that would be.

As has been written about popularly, depression is less a feeling of being sad all the time and more about just a complete lack of drive and impetus to do anything that previously interested me, or even to stay awake. My vital force feels completely drained. Writing this blog post felt like a pointless exercise and probably was, but maybe I can get some traction by making myself write SOMETHING today.  I feel bad about vaguely whining out into the internet, but 350 words about how listless and depressed I am almost feels like an accomplishment relative to my gut instinct upon waking up every day, which is to go immediately back to sleep, forever. My body seems to want to hibernate until the world is less of a dumpster, but that probably ain’t gonna happen, so I gotta find some energy from some place to crawl my way out of the muck and the mire.