In that time, yes, we wholeheartedly admit: we could have done more. But in our defense, we didn’t. Which is not a defense, but it’s all you’re getting today. It’s March, after all, so we’re done playing nice.

Enough. There’s a new video online I implore you to watch for two reasons:

1. It’s super entertaining, well worth the 24-minute time investment.

2. Your view tells the Almighty Algorithm that our video is worth watching, so the AA will then recommend it to other people, which will in the long run make us rich.

On a sidenote

I’m kinda done with Adobe. They’re too blatantly exploiting their monopoly, all the while innovating slower than the catholic church. So, in an attempt to move away from them, I downgraded my Creative Cloud subscription to a single-app subscription — just Adobe Illustrator.

My goal was to move entirely to Affinity, which has not long ago been acquired by Canva. However, for the video’s thumbnail, Kiki and I tried “photoshopping” our way through Affinity.

Tried.

Because that patch was rough. So, sadly, for now, it’s two Adobe app subscriptions.

Either way, why aren’t you watching the video?

So well, actually, that I received a last-minute invitation to speak at TEDxEindhoven tomorrow afternoon, November 14. (I still have some discount codes—if you want to attend, hit me up.)

The opportunity to give my talk a second time allowed me some time to mature and refine (and translate into English) the original. This resulted in the birth of The Arrow of Action; it’s the same methodology as in my first talk, but it now has a name, which makes things more believable and true.

Soon, I’ll be able to share recordings of the talks (both the Dutch and English versions), but I just wanted to coin the phrase “The Arrow of Action” so the mighty algorithms can start chewing and digesting it.

Yes, I also registered arrowofaction.com, just in case.

Here’s the arrow. It’ll make sense after I share the talks.

Talk soon!

We’ve been over why it makes sense for me to be rejected by big conferences. I’ve no right to be there.

But things are changing.

After sharing my attempt at masterclassifying my book on YouTube, which I have since terminated, I got an email from the organizers of TEDxDenBosch — an independent TED event set to take place in my hometown. They loved the trailer of my masterclass and casually dropped me an invite to speak at their next event.

Which I accepted.

I’ll share the stage with five other speakers, and we’ll all approach the theme “Dare to dream” from our own personal angles. I’ve yet to come up with my full excerpt for the talk, but if you’re curious, perhaps it’s better to attend the event and witness it in person.

When: Friday, October 31, 20:00
Where: Theater aan de Parade, ‘s-Hertogenbosch
Capitalism: Of course; € 12,50
Tickets and info: Here 🎟️

Sorry + what’s next

In summary, I now have two official speaking engagements under my belt: Dutch Design Week and TEDx. So I apologize for my impatience. It’ll all work out in due time.

I’m also ready to launch my new side-business-with-my-wife-that-might-become-our-main-business, but it deserves a post on its own. So sit tight.

Talk soon.

The reason that I sponsored this link is that, since August 5, my book is officially available in the United States of WTF-is-going-on. As we know by now, I have no idea how well it’s performing. But, interestingly, I noticed that more copies became available on Amazon as time passed. Perhaps, my sales have hit negative numbers now.

It went from 7 in stock to 21 in stock to just being “In Stock.” Either way, it’s available around the world, which is an achievement in and of itself.

Full disclosure, I paid $300 for the sponsored link.

Hello, TEDx

In other news, I’ve been invited to speak at a TEDx conference in October in my hometown of ‘s-Hertogenbosch. The theme is “dare to dream,” and somehow, I fit into that category. The organizers expect around 300 people. More on this later.

Goodbye, masterclass

In with the new, out with the old. I edited and uploaded 11 episodes of my masterclass (which covers the contents of my book, but in video), and they’re not doing great. Some episodes got 50 views. Other episodes got 3.

I aimed to upload around 40 episodes, but I’ve decided to call it a day. This is because the socials of our bus conversion are doing so well. Let me explain.

The truth is that some things are interesting to watch and others aren’t. Our bus conversion, apparently, is. The videos get between 3,000 and 30,000 views across platforms. Apart from filming and editing the content, we’re not even putting any real effort into promoting our content.

This made me realize that watching an underwhelming guy talk about design-related stuff in a static setting, perhaps, isn’t that appealing. The proof is in the pudding, or, more accurately, in the depressing analytics.

I might format the content differently and try something new. But I also might not.

That’s all for now.

Oh, actually, it’s not. Kiki and I are literally 99% done with a new joint effort: a branding agency for hospitality only. Website and portfolio will go online next week. I’ll let you know.

Bye.

As you might know, Kiki and I are converting a bus. We’re also on YouTube, where we just dropped our very first video. It’s only 2:46 long, so you really have no excuse not to watch it.

Here you go:

Bye!

For those of you who don’t know what Balatro is, it’s an immensely popular digital card game. Last year, it received multiple nominations at The Game Awards, and since that moment, its modest success became an unprecedented success, selling more than 5 million copies in less than a year.

I’m not going to explain the entire game. You play poker hands. You modify your deck. You make big scores. It’s fun, it’s creative, Kiki and I play it every day. Here’s what it looks like:

After Kiki pitched the idea of tying a drinking game to Balatro, I could not contain myself, and the day after, I worked on this drinking game concept for 10 hours straight. And then, lo and behold, before the sun had set, it was finished.

The game mechanics. The artwork. The logo. The manual. The packaging. The online store. The files ready for the printer. All of it. Done.

It was the first time I’d forgotten to have lunch in a decade. That’s how engulfed and in the zone I was. It was amazing. So, without further ado, I present to you:

I decided not to waste any time. After play testing a draft version with friends, I ordered 60 copies of everything, which are now sitting on my desk. Kiki’s editing a special Pour Decisions episode where we play the game, and the shop is already live at beerlatro.cards

Beerlatro Shop

Cheers!

Our bedroom will be in the back, but the floor is slanted (covering the engine right below). So, we’ll start making the floor nice and level, also covering the wheel wells. We’ll use the spare room between the tilted floor and our level floor as storage (see the little panels?).

Of course, we’ll need a bed. Initially, we planned on building a bed in the middle, with our headboard against the back of the bus. But we soon realized that a collapsible or foldable bed frame would be more efficient.

This allows us to partially stow the bed and use the open space for an efficient workout, some yoga, and of course accessing the storage in the floor.

In our bedroom (and everywhere), we’ll need storage. We’re unsure about the layout yet, but basically, we’ll build two large closets over the wheel arches, giving us plenty of space for clothing and other stuff.

Next up, the bathroom. Here’s a top-down view showing our arched sliding door, the shower cabin, and the toilet. The big opening on the right side of the bus (top in photo) represents the doors that we’ll weld shut.

The bathroom floor will be elevated (we’re not sure by how much yet), to allow for water storage, some drainage stuff, and probably a small storage space accessible from the outside for foldable chairs and other things we’ll want quick access to from the outside.

And finally, the living space. Here, too, we’ll put flooring down (for insulation as well as covering the wheel arches). Also note the functional sliding door to the bathroom.

The living space will be part kitchen, part, ehr, lounge?

Regarding the kitchen, we’ll keep it nice and compact. Our current layout features a 2-top induction stove, a sink, space for a small dishwasher (did you know they use less water than hand washing 🧽?) and perhaps an oven.

Oh, and a fridge.

The weird lattice around the fridge is a placeholder for more storage space — we’re unsure yet what the layout will be (drawers, hatches, and from where they’ll be accessible).

In the open space, there’ll be a couch (which will fold out to a 2-person bed), a small workspace, and a tiny wood stove. But I haven’t printed those yet.

Let’s end with a top-down view for maximum wow-factor.

That’s all for now. Back to printing.

In my mind, it was supposed to be much cheaper. For the design we came up with, the on-demand print fee would surpass € 200. While it did fit my friend’s budget, it gnawed at me.

For just another € 100-ish, I could get a printer of my own. I’ve wanted a 3D printer for a while now, but I never had any good reason or opportunity to buy one. Up until now.

I pitched the idea to my friend, and he agreed: he’d pay me the same fee he’d spend using an on-demand print service, and I’d use that money to buy a printer of my liking.

I got a Bambu Labs A1, which happened to be on sale (I think they always are). It arrived a few days back, and I set it up yesterday. It prints objects. I couldn’t be happier. I’ll also probably be out of filament (that’s 3D-hobbyist-lingo for printer material — I’m that kind of person now) by next week.

Oh, the award? I’ll be finalizing it over the weekend. My friend needs it in 5 days. I’ll share a pic when it’s done.

Oh, if you’re wondering: YES, the 3D printer will be a great tool under our belt for our bus-to-camper conversion. Which, by the way, I have big news about, too.

We got the bus.

We own it now. It’s sitting on my parents’ lawn. Kiki already drove it (1 meter). More soon, and if you haven’t already, for more frequent updates:

• Follow us on Instagram: @12metermansion

• Follow us on YouTube: @12metermansion

Bye!

I just released the trailer and the first two minor episodes on YouTube. Not much to write about it; they speak for themselves.

What I can say, though, is that it’s pretty awkward to speak into a camera, and even more embarrassing to plough through all of your fumbled takes while trying to find any semblance of coherence.

But it works. Here ya go:

Seeya!

You might recall that my publisher warned me about this. He said that organic sales — people randomly stumbling upon the book in physical stores — would be very slow, and that I, as the author, needed to put significant efforts into active sales.

Unsurprisingly, he was right.

I’ve written extensively about my struggles with audience building on social platforms. The sales numbers reflect my digital invisibility. Since launch, I’ve sold almost exactly one book a day. This includes the 30-ish books I sold at Dutch Design Week.

178 books total, between October 2024 and April 2025.

Yesterday evening, I was very disappointed.

This morning, I woke up feeling motivated, and some of the disappointment had already dissipated.

I’m not one for superstition or everything-happens-for-a-reason reasoning (hehe). But I do believe that everything checks out one way or another. My book underperforming (quite badly), as much as I’d love to have seen it differently: it checks out. It makes sense. People simply don’t walk into random bookstores to buy a book they’ve never heard of that’s tucked away in a corner. The universe works, and I didn’t beat the odds.

Perhaps I unknowingly anticipated the disappointment.

Two weeks ago, I locked myself up in the same cabin I’d been in to finish the book. This time, I recorded a MasterClass-style course covering the entire book. It’s over 8 hours of video material in total — unedited, of course.

I’ll be releasing one or two episodes on my YouTube channel every week for the coming months, starting next week. In total, I estimate it’ll be around 40 videos, one for each chapter in the book. I might also release a full 2- or 3-hour course, but that’s not my priority right now.

Here’s a sneak peek.

That’s all for now. Take care and enjoy the sun.

Why? You might ask.

Because of taxes. In the Netherlands, the amount of road tax you pay depends on the type of vehicle — at least, on how it’s registered. Taxes are weight-based when you register your bus as a camper(van). The heavier the campervan, the more you pay. For our bus, that’d amount to about € 1620 every quarter. Yeah, one thousand six hundred and twenty Euros every three months.

The exact same vehicle, registered as a truck… € 96. So, yes, we’ll take that 94% tax cut. And it’s completely legal, too. We’ll have to jump through some legislative hoops, modify the chassis, and slap on a few additional mirrors, and that’s it.

By the way, a group of dudes who also bought an Ambassador 200 managed to get it registered as a truck a few weeks ago. In order to get there, they had to make some technical drawings, which we low-key agreed on “buying” from them after they’d finish. When push came to shove, they wanted to charge us € 1250 for the drawings. We kindly declined their offer.

So, there is progress, but we’re still in the dark about when the bus will actually be delivered to our doorstep my parents’ doorstep, where the complete conversion will take place.

Here are some photos the seller randomly sent over.

Indeed, the photos don’t give us much information. There were 12 more of them, which were very similar to these, just so you know.

Meanwhile, we sit tight.

Talk soon.

You might ask: “Why?”.
I might respond, “What have you been doing with your life?”

We did this because it sounded silly yet hilarious. And it was.

As good citizens of the attention era, we filmed our experience and uploaded it to YouTube. A couple hundred people watched it (which is hilarious if you think about it), and as the view count began to drop off, we began forging new plans in the same realm of idiocy.

Right now, we have three or four new challenges planned and about two years' worth of poor decisions in the backlog. Speaking of poor decisions, the channels (Instagram, YouTube, TikTok) were dubbed Pour Decisions because, you know, pouring drinks. Pour. Poor. Decision. You get it. Sorry.

The reason I’m writing about this now is that yesterday, Kiki edited and uploaded a shorter version as a Reel to Instagram, and it went low-key viral. Right now, we’re at about 90K views and close to 4000 likes.

I’m delighted about this because nothing about the whole idea was tailored towards engagement. As long as I can remember — and this counts for Kiki, too — I’ve been drawn to silly activities and taking my ideas too far simply for the sake of having fun. The fact that people enjoy watching that gives me some hope for the internet.

That’s all I wanted to share today.

Follow along on Instagram and YouTube, or watch the first episode below. We’ll film our next adventure in two weeks 🇵🇱. Cheers!

“I’ve found exactly the right thing. It’s quite big. Literally. It’s double big.”

Well, it turned out not to be double big. But I’m announcing it today, nevertheless. Here’s our new project:

In a nutshell, we’re converting this city bus into a tiny house on wheels. The conversion is phase 1 and will take, at the very least, a full year. Phase 2 is that we — me, my wife Kiki, and our four cats — will live in it and travel Europe for a while.

The thing that’s not double big about it is that it’s only a single-floor bus. The original (completely mental) plan was to convert a double-decker bus. Over the past 10 months, we’ve been around the Netherlands and Germany, looking at a few of them.

But suitable options turned out few and far between. Ultimately, we settled for a mighty double-decker Setra from the 90s. We even made a down payment, and last week, we visited the dealer for a final inspection. Here’s Kiki “inspecting”:

That final inspection turned out to be a deception. Getting this monster on the road would take another € 20 - 30K worth of repairs on top of the already not-super-friendly list price. So the double-decker dream died there and then.

But we were on a mission. After swallowing the bad news, we walked onto the dealer’s lot and picked a different bus, which is the one in the first picture.

We’re excited to start this project, and we’re already working on some layouts. Here are some quick viewport renders showing a bed and other grey objects:

That’s all there is on the bus for now. If you’d like more frequent updates, subscribe to our Instagram: @12metermansion.

Oh. And we don’t have the required driver’s license yet.

Talk soon.

I met Burt a couple of years ago through a client. They hired Burt, a 60-something-year-old writer with a background in technology, to write articles for their newsletter, blog, and some other stuff. I did design work for that same client and helped them refresh their look and feel as well as their tone of voice.

This is how Burt and I got acquainted. A brief call about our client’s writing style and whether or not to include custom illustrations turned into a 90-minute talk about writing, life, cowboys, and my book. I was looking for an editor, and Burt, as a freelance writer, desperately needed a website and something that would function as his logo. We agreed to barter: Burt would help me with the book, and I’d help him get online.

All went great. Burt didn’t hold back in his critique of my writing, and I built Burt a decent website with a cute animated logo. At least six months went by, during which my writing improved significantly through Burt’s feedback. Sometimes, we’d jump on a call, or we’d exchange emails about life, work, art, and everything in between.

After a while, I got my writing to where I wanted it to be, and I didn’t have anything left in return for Burt’s time. Burt turned out to be more of a mentor than a full-fledged editor, which was fine. Our barter deal grew into something more akin to pen pals. Sometimes, we’d email back and forth twice a week. Other times, it’d be quiet for up to a month and a half.

Some background information about Burt. He’s an American by birth but lived in many places throughout his life. During our contact, he resided both in Spain and Ireland. They are two very different places — a stark contrast he spoke lengthily and, at times, poetically about.

Burt seemed especially interested in Ireland’s troubles at the end of the 20th century, and he often shared a pint and exchanged stories with locals about that part of history.

The last few times we spoke, he lived in a village in Spain with his partner and at least one of his children — I’m not sure how many he has. He had trouble connecting with the locals (as opposed to Ireland), the dry, unforgiving heat, and the sluggish Spanish bureaucracy. He sent pictures of abstract paintings he’d made, a hobby he had recently picked up. At this point, our emails would be 3 to 4 weeks apart.

“My wife and I are sitting in the living room this afternoon. It's hot. Yesterday was hot. Tomorrow it'll be hot. The apartment isn't a/c'd. The fan is trying hard.”
— Burt

Then, with the book launch creeping up, it went quiet, mostly from my side. Our last few interactions had been months apart. In January 2024, Burt wrote a lengthy email. I had to look it up, and I’m embarrassed to admit that I didn’t directly reply to it.

When I signed my book contract, five months after Burt’s last email, I tried tagging him on LinkedIn to share the good news, but I couldn’t because the connection had been removed. I emailed him to share the news instead, but he never replied.

For a while, I feared that I had taken too long to reply to his last email or that I had done something else to upset him. But Burt is one of the kindest, most patient people I’d come to know in recent years; he often apologized for “taking up my time” when we’d call, which — needlessly to say — did not feel like a waste of time at all. This is to illustrate that it wouldn’t be like him to resent me for taking longer than usual to respond.

But the feeling never left me.

Around that same time, I had to send the book’s final PDF to the printer. In the acknowledgments section, I mention Burt “…for being my mentor and helping me mature as a writer.” Even though our barter deal was fair, I still felt indebted to him for his honesty and feedback, and for how openly he encouraged and complimented me along the way. An acknowledgment was the least I could do.

“I appreciate our connection. You're a real person. That's a rare thing and a gift. Please stay in touch!”
— Burt

A few weeks later, when I received the first copy from the printer, I took a picture of the acknowledgment section mentioning Burt and sent it to him. I expressed my worry again but also asked for his current whereabouts so I could send him a copy of the book. “This will be my last attempt at contacting him,” I told myself.

And it was.

Sadly, no reply has found my inbox yet. The one thing I did receive was an automated message from his website provider that his subscription had been canceled. His website is now offline. From his last email:

“I've also continued to paint. And it's a fine way to detach from the discursive mental labyrinthe.

I am very happy for you. Reach out any time Rey.”
— Burt

To make matters even stranger, something else happened. Burt and I were connected on LinkedIn. Past tense because the connection was removed, but his account is still somewhat active. I am 100% confident that he had plenty of connections, but now, he has only 60-ish. He didn’t reject nor accept my new connection request, and his account only comments on LinkedIn posts by one single author: someone selling language training certifications. Coincidentally, Burt’s bio was updated, showing that he is now supposedly a language coach for — surprise — that same certification institute.

Something is off here.

I have a lot of questions. My leading hypothesis is that Burt was forced to retire, maybe because of health issues, or worse, he has passed. This would explain his sudden disappearance, which is otherwise completely out of character for him.

If that’s true, however, what happened to his LinkedIn profile? There was activity long after our contact went silent. Could it be that the account was hijacked, and scammers are now using it to create fake engagement?

I’m unsure, and I’ve come to terms with the possibility that I’ll never know.

But I do miss hearing about his paintings. And cowboys.

Goodbye, Burt.

But it isn’t the way it works.

The struggle we accept as the status quo is born out of conflicts of interest. The more people there are involved, the more conflicting interests. Because people inherently fail to separate their ego from the stuff they work on. Consider this example:

• A big corporation hires us for an ad to sell more products. “Selling more products” is the purpose of the endeavor.

• Within the corporation, the marketing department is responsible for the ad’s performance.

• Meanwhile, the financial department is trying to cut costs by pushing back on marketing spending.

• The marketing department recently changed lead. The previous lead got a job at a prestigious advertising firm. The new lead has big shoes to fill.

• Within the marketing department, two people are tasked with selecting, hiring, and communicating with us.

• The marketing department held a brainstorm about the ad before hiring us. Many concepts were pitched, and one idea was unanimously considered the “best.”

• The person who created that idea also told their spouse at home about it.

For all these people, the corporate goal to “sell more products” is watered down by their own interests. They have wants and needs that do not align with selling more products. The same applies to people on the agency or creative side.

Subconsciously, everyone will try to subtly sway the project in directions that align with their personal interests. As a result, we need countless meetings and revisions to address all of these conflicting interests. Creation becomes more politics than creativity: a struggle to get the project over the finish line instead of an adventure to create the best work possible.

(I’ll write about the sticky subject of ‘quality’ in the creative industry soon.)

Solo

This unavoidable muddy concoction of interests is why I’m generally not crazy about teamwork. It complicates matters, and it requires constant check-ins to synchronize and realign and pet everyone’s ego so they’ll calm down, time and energy that I’d much rather spend on making the thing better. Working on things alone can be a true liberation for this very reason.

Because on your own — or perhaps as a duo, if you really see eye-to-eye — creation becomes fun again. An energizing ride full of opportunity, fuelled by that juvenile enthusiasm that agency hallways and client board rooms are so staggeringly void of.

It reminded me of an interview I read over a decade ago. In it, a journalist asked an event organizers (so called “obstacle runs,” such as Mud Masters and Spartan Race) why people attend these sorts of events, which are both challenging and expensive. His answer was something along the lines of:

“I think people’s day-to-day lacks adventure. Our events briefly give them something to fight for, something to survive and overcome. An experience they can’t get anywhere else.”

I remember it because I believe he was absolutely right.

I work from home. Every morning, after doing morning stuff, I take my cup of coffee and head up the stairs to the attic, aka my workspace. “I’m off to Computer Land,” I’ll tell my wife.

“Good luck,” she’ll reply.

Not that I need it. Going to Computer Land is one of the least adventurous things one can do. Yet almost all of spend many hours there every day. Over time, a certain greyness builds up. An emptiness. Perhaps future doctors will diagnose it as “computerisis.”

The only way to rid ourselves of this emptiness is to do things outside of Computer Land for a while. In my case, these things involve self-flagellation through fitness races. But they only provides a temporary fix.

In the long run, I know I need something in my life to seriously balance my time in Computer Land. Something where I can use my hands, building something that I can touch and smell and break and fix.

And I’m happy to announce that I’ve found exactly the right thing. It’s quite big. Literally. It’s double big.

More on this very soon.

I uploaded my book, the full PDF, to ChatGPT and instructed it to build an assistant based on the book’s content. It works surprisingly well, tying in pretty much every concept I talk about in the book. It’s like talking to me (albeit in a bit more robotic way).

You’ll find the link at the bottom of this message so you can try it for yourself, but before you do, here’s a quick screen cap and some answers it gave:

“If I could only ask a new client three questions, what would they be (and why)?”

If you could only ask a new client three questions, they should be:

1. “What problem(s) are we trying to solve?” — This ensures you diagnose the root issue rather than just executing a client’s assumed solution .

2. “What is the goal of this project?” — Understanding the desired outcome clarifies success metrics and guides your creative decisions .

3. “When is it considered a success?” — This prevents misalignment and helps both you and the client stay focused on measurable impact .

These questions shift the conversation from subjective opinions to clear objectives, reducing unnecessary revisions and ensuring the work serves a real purpose.

“I feel burnt out as a graphic designer. Any tips?”

Burnout is common in creative fields, but it can be managed. Here are some concise, actionable tips based on insights from Being Creative is the Easy Part:

1. Set Clear Boundaries – Avoid working with toxic clients or environments. As Erik Spiekermann puts it: “Don’t work with assholes. Don’t work for assholes” .

2. Prioritize Efficiency – Optimize processes to minimize wasted effort. The goal is to create great work without stretching yourself thin .

3. Manage Expectations – Many creative professionals burn out not from the work itself, but from poor client management. Keep client expectations in check and avoid endless revisions .

4. Avoid Overworking – Your best work doesn’t come from exhaustion. Free time isn’t wasted time—it boosts creativity .

5. Stay Financially Smart – If you’re undercharging, you’re likely overworking. Reevaluate your pricing model to avoid undervaluing yourself .

6. Find Joy in Your Work – Success isn’t just about financial gain; fulfillment and energy matter too .

Would you like more detailed guidance on any of these areas?

“My client rejected the sketches for an illustration I’m working on. But the sketches don’t reflect quality I’m going for. What could I have done differently?”

Here’s what you could have done differently to prevent your client from rejecting your sketches:

1. Clarify Values and Goals Early – Ensure your sketches align with the client’s values, thematics, and aesthetics before presenting them.

2. Improve Presentation – How you present your sketches matters. Weak presentation can make good work look unconvincing.

3. Limit Options – If you provided too many sketches, it might have overwhelmed the client. Keep it to a maximum of three strong directions .

4. Guide the Client’s Thinking – Instead of letting them make emotional decisions, guide them toward rational conclusions that align with project goals.

5. Close “The Void” – If there was ambiguity in expectations, you might have left gaps for misinterpretation. Clear communication prevents this .

6. Control the Feedback Process – Clients often give feedback based on personal taste rather than project goals. Set clear criteria for evaluation .

7. Avoid Premature Opinions – If you asked for opinions too early, you might have created conflicting expectations. Instead, anchor their decision-making in logic .

Would you like help refining your approach for the next round of sketches?

Try it yourself

All you need is a (free) ChatGPT account: start chat.

Let me know what you think!

I’ve dabbled in videogame ideas for years and I’ve built a few small, web-based games just for fun.

A few weeks ago, I began building a game that had been on my mind for a while. Part of its mechanics are clearly inspired by the immensely successful Balatro. But my aim is not to make a masterpiece. I have some gripes with Balatro, and while thinking about how they could be solved, a different game format formed in my mind.

Here’s what it looks like now:

Gameplay & art style

Obviously, there is no art style yet. Aesthetics at this point are a distraction. As well as thematics. Right now, I’m validating the core gameplay loop, which is this:

Stack “chips” to make a big stack.

That’s all there is. Consumables affect the board and how effective stacking is, and suits play a major role as well. The “Make 🟩” button you see on the right is a consumable modifier the player can use to affect their selection.

Thematics & name

I have an idea for the theme of the game, but that, too, would be a distraction if I were to focus on it now. I believe that underneath every game’s story and art style lie very basic, mostly mathematical foundations. I have to get those right first.

Clearly, there is no name yet. Right now, the project folder is called chip-stack-v0.

Roadmap

The screenshot above is a very first test of the core gameplay that I built over a couple of hours. I’m now rebuilding it more robustly, but still without any design or thematics. I plan on hosting the coming version online so you people test it out.

As far as roadmaps go:

1. Validate core gameplay loop (ReactJS)

2. Build playable demo (ReactJS) & receive feedback

3. Optional: build playable mobile demo (React Native)

4. Develop thematics & art

5. Rebuild from ground up (probably in Unity)

6. Alpha release

7. More feedback

8. Cry

9. Release

Keeping it simple

For those of you familiar with code, this snippet will give you an idea of how rudimentary the entire thing currently is. I’m really not bothered with clean code and robust structure right now — I just want to make sure the thing is fun to play.

  useEffect(() => {
    const hasHighValue = chips.some(chip => chip.value >= winCondition)

    if(moves === 0 && !hasHighValue) {
      alert("You lose!")
      gameOver()
    }
  }, [moves])