Archived Rare Life Profile: Programmer
The games programmer has had a hard time over the last 10-15 years. Back in the glory days of 8 bit shenanigans they were kings, presiding over design, programming, music and yes… even graphics. The ‘one-man-bands’ of the computer gaming scene…
Then things began to change. Slowly, and as surely as Scotch & Wry will grace Scotland’s televisions next Hogmanay, people with musical and (alleged) artistic talents began adding their skills to the programmer’s cause… and the development team was born. Nice.
Nowadays, programmers have a much more focused task. They are expected to create whatever the designer wants – when the designer wants it. Forget those earlier contributions to music, graphics, and – God forbid – game design. I mean, look at those early Spectrum games. Matthew Smith didn’t have a bloody clue…
As a programmer, you aim to breathe life into the designers’ vision, pulling together both graphics and sounds, mixing it all up and adding a little (or a lot) of your own creative spices – and hoping it holds together (if it doesn’t, egg usually does the trick). Great.
Most games these days require at least four programmers, all hammering away in perfect harmony on the various logical components of the product. And while the art/music/design aspects of the game production line fluctuate up and down the workload scale, the programming continues on its accelerated path to oblivion, like a huge globule of phlegm hurtling toward Mr B’s amusement arcade from the top of Blackpool Tower.
Games programming is a relentless task. Imagine an exponential curve on a graph of project lifetime versus hours worked and the curve exits the building not long after 6 months. Time flies by when I’m the programmer of a game, and I’m fixing the same bugs time and time again. Creating software, updating software, to an unrealistic deadline – wait a minute… there’s an analogy forming which is rather scary.
To have any chance of success in this field, you must be talented, enthusiastic, – and above all else, gullible. Oops – I meant ‘committed’. Literally.
The average day (months 1 thru 6)
* Fix any left-over bugs from the day before;
* Consult my ‘to do’ list – which mainly consists of designer wishes – and decide to ‘do’ none of them;
* Continue with the current major task, introducing more bugs as the day draws to a close. (It’s a proven fact that a bug that takes over an hour to fix in the afternoon would only have taken 1 minute if you’d left it until the next morning…)
The average day (months 7 thru completion)
* Time has no meaning. Bed has no meaning. Work is everything.
* Bugs. Deadlines. More bugs. Aarrgggh. Too many bugs! HELP! Quick – put a mosquito-net over the software….
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