A Narrative Designer's Journey: Creating a Game in 30 Days with Godot

The Journey of a Narrative Designer: Learning Through Creation

What does it take for a narrative designer to dive into the world of game engines? It’s a question resonating with many who dream of creating games from scratch, whether driven by ambition or pure creativity. This piece charts Ben’s month-long endeavor to construct a game called *The Last Lamplighter*. If you're intrigued, make sure to check it out over on [Itch.io](https://streetcomedian.itch.io/the-last-lamplighter). Each year, countless hopeful developers download platforms like Unreal Engine or Unity, lured by the vision of bringing their ideas to life. Yet, a staggering number falter—not out of lack of talent, but because they hit a wall of complex tools and convoluted workflows. For many, navigating the intricacies of these engines can feel as daunting as piloting a commercial aircraft. The reality is that creating games frequently involves wrestling with technical barriers rather than merely expressing creative vision. I've witnessed these challenges firsthand over two decades in the industry, toggling between roles as a journalist—most recently in my leadership position at Game Informer—and as a narrative designer at Firaxis Games, known for titles like [Marvel’s Midnight Suns](https://midnightsuns.2k.com/) and [Sid Meier's Civilization VII](https://civilization.2k.com/civ-vii/). Triple-A pipelines can be enormous constructions intended for large teams rather than solo developers, complicating the process significantly. Stepping into the spotlight, Godot has quietly garnered attention over the years. A surge in its popularity followed the controversial Unity Runtime Fee of 2023, which sought to impose charges on developers based on installations. This backlash has redirected many eyes toward Godot, establishing it as the go-to engine for indie breakout hits like *Slay the Spire II*, *The Case of the Golden Idol*, and *Cassette Beasts*. Not limited to indie developers, even big players like Electronic Arts have leaned on Godot for projects, such as utilizing a tailored version for the Portal map editor in *Battlefield 6*. What's driving Godot's intrigue? For starters, it’s an impressively lightweight engine with a mere 100 MB download size, and it boots up in seconds. In an era riddled with shifting licenses and corporate entanglements, the fact that Godot is open-source and community-supported speaks volumes to developers wary of potential corporate shake-ups. However, this raises a significant query: can a platform of such modest size reasonably contend with industry stalwarts backed by substantial financial clout? To find the answer, I rolled up my sleeves and put Godot to the test. Aiming to create an entire game within thirty days, I approached the challenge armed only with my enthusiasm and a steep learning curve ahead of me. Prior to getting my hands dirty, I reached out to René Habermann, co-founder of [Bippinbits](https://bippinbits.com/) and co-creator of the hit indie title *Dome Keeper*. With his insights, I hoped to validate my choice of Godot and seek guidance on what it takes to make a solid game in such a short time. Habermann wasted no time in emphasizing a crucial principle for beginners: scope management. "If I wanted to reliably make something decent in 30 days, I would try to scope it out in a way where I had a feeling I could make it in five days," he advised. This insight revealed a common pitfall; new developers often get lost in the grandeur of concepts instead of zeroing in on structured gameplay. As I began brainstorming, I found myself gravitating toward simpler, more fundamental ideas—drawn to the classic gameplay styles of Snake or Pac-Man, eventually leading me to the "clicker" genre, known for its paradoxically addictive simplicity. These games thrive on a feedback loop that stimulates players' basic instincts: growth and accomplishment. But I couldn’t leave it at that; as a narrative designer, I knew a game needed depth. What if the act of clicking carried emotional weight? What if players were, say, saving an enemy’s life? I envisioned a priestess, bound by her vows to heal, even if that meant saving someone who sought to destroy her world. This concept sparked a small narrative flame, hinting at a complex story of compassion that I’d explore further. When I took my first steps with Godot, the initiation involved devouring a comprehensive nine-hour tutorial from the channel [Clear Code](https://www.youtube.com/c/ClearCode). Yet rather than follow every instruction, I was tempted to experiment—joyfully clicking through menus, dragging elements, and, of course, encountering inevitable frustrations. If I had to sum up the next 28 days, they revolved largely around trial and error—sometimes resulting in exasperation, often punctuated by helpful online resources. By the third to fifth day, I had crafted initial mechanics: a heart-shaped UI icon that depletes over time, a player character that interacts with the world, and a means to refill health by approaching the wounded. Notably, I chose a more tactile approach aimed at immersing players emotionally. So far, the feeling of seeing my code come to life was exhilarating, but anxiety loomed about whether I'd skipped vital corners in my learning. As the days progressed, I hit familiar snags and lessons that all developers face. A seemingly simple bug led me to question my logic, only to discover that a minor checkbox was the culprit, preventing my health bar from functioning. The clarity came when I realized that some bugs aren't signs of poor scripting; instead, they're often evidence of a misunderstanding of the tools at hand. As I approached the midpoint of this endeavor, I began to acknowledge the inherent intricacies that come with clicker games. While my narrative about saving one’s enemy initially seemed compelling, I quickly recognized that the gameplay loop of maintaining a heart’s rhythm grew tiresome. If the motivation is simply to perpetuate a stable heartbeat, where's the thrill? Clearly, I had painted myself into a corner. The allure of clickers lies in their capacity for escalation. I’d set out to weave a narrative with stakes, yet what I was left with felt tedious — merely clicking to reveal more story rather than engaging in actual gameplay. To sustain interest, I’d need to rethink my approach entirely. This realization serves as a reminder: designing games requires marrying narrative and mechanics effectively; otherwise, players risk disengagement. It’s a hard lesson, but one that could ultimately lead to stronger, more captivating games in the long run.The culmination of this thirty-day journey into game development has led to a stark realization: creating games is both deeply fulfilling and frustratingly imperfect. After painstakingly piecing my prototype together in Godot, I’ve crafted something that, while far from flawless, feels intimately mine. Nothing reinforces that ownership as strongly as debugging the very quirks I introduced myself, conference calls, or masterclasses never quite capture this aspect of learning. While my game only requires twenty minutes to play, the months of effort behind it underscore a vital truth: value isn't solely measured in gameplay length. It's in the experience gained and the skills developed along the way. Each glitch I navigated taught me about the complexities of code and game architecture—valuable lessons I bypassed in earlier weeks. The frustrations, like misaligned parent nodes for UI elements or trivial errors that sent me spiraling into online forums, are merely stepping stones on the path towards mastery. Here's the thing: engaging with Godot transformed my approach to development. The platform doesn’t automatically solve every problem, but it simplifies the entry into game creation, replacing fear with empowerment. It offers a space where a solo developer can explore without the overwhelming concern of scaling operations typical of a triple-A environment. During my tenure at Firaxis, I witnessed how large studios necessitate a division of labor that can stifle individual creativity. In contrast, my solo venture with Godot feels refreshingly personal. Reflecting on my prototype, I recognize something poetic in its imperfections—it embodies the raw essence of independent game development. The contrast with polished works like *Marvel's Midnight Suns* or *Civilization VII* is stark, yet it’s exhilarating to know that every bug belongs to me. In this light, Godot isn’t just another tool; it can be a gateway. If it inspires you to jump into the fray rather than stay on the sidelines, that alone makes it a worthwhile endeavor. So, if you're toying with the idea of developing your own game, consider this: the road may be fraught with technical debt and unexpected errors, but every difficulty you troubleshoot enriches your understanding. Learning to code poses challenges, but as I found through this process, each challenge is a brushstroke on the canvas of creativity. Embrace the mess, and who knows? You just might produce something truly meaningful.