This next game started out as a terrible idea and only got worse from there. I decided to code the entire thing without allowing myself to test it along the way. I hoped that the game would turn out differently than I initially planned out, and that those differences would be interesting artistic quirks - like driving across the country without a map and hoping to end up at little-known roadside attractions Google would never tell you about.

Except, this was less like driving without a map and more like driving blindfolded. Normally with coding, you write a little bit, test what you just wrote, adjust, test, adjust, test, and so on until you reach your destination. Just like your eyes give you feedback when driving so you can avoid fire hydrants and stray cats, each tiny little test of your program lets you know where you’re straying off course and keeps you headed towards your initial design.

I started coding, and I was stressed. I wanted the game to run. I did not want to back my car into my still-closed garage door so to speak. So I double checked my calculations. I proofread all my code more than I ever have in my entire life because a single forgotten comma or misspelled word would cause the program to simply shut down. I’d be greeted with a blank screen of death, and there’d be nothing I could do to fix it.

Eventually though, I gained confidence. My long division looked good, and my figurings of various objects’ speeds made sense. I had kept the game simple enough that I was pretty sure it could run. I’d make it out of the garage! I may not make it to San Francisco, but I was really excited to see what strange and new parts of the country I’d see along the way.

I hit play.