Why did I make this game?

As much as I love playing (and designing) games now, I had little to no experience with them until I reached adulthood. I remember wanting to play games, begging my mother for a console at Christmas, saving my allowance to buy the accompanying games, and then, more often than not, abandoning them after a single session of play. I was always confused and guilty about this reaction. 

My best friend at the time — a boy — absolutely adored playing games like Halo, Grand Theft Auto and Call of Duty. At the time, we shared almost the exact same taste in books, movies and school subjects. I truly wanted to share in the joy he felt when playing video games, but when I picked up a controller, the experience felt alienating, as if I was intruding on a space that was never meant for me. The designers of the stories and characters in these games did not create them for a target audience of young girls. The game industry was – and to some extent still is – built for and marketed to boys and men. I was left wondering why I wasn’t important enough to be included. 

Unwilling to admit defeat, I continued my habit of begging for the newest gadget of gameplay, until Christmas 2006, when I was ecstatic to receive a Nintendo Wii. I unwrapped it, set it up in our living room (or at least watched as my mother did), and began to play. For the first time, I couldn’t — and didn’t —  stop. I was finally able to identify with my character in a game because it was literally designed by me: Because that character was me (or Mii). I found what had been missing for me in games: A strong connection with the identity of the entity I was playing as. 

Since then, almost every game I’ve found satisfaction playing was one where the player designs their avatar. In recent years, though, this has changed as representation and inclusion in game design are improving. I often play games with a set avatar that makes me feel personally represented. Games with female or queer protagonists were finally being made, and so I began to play more and more games. I found that feeling included in game spaces inspired me to explore games with stories, worlds and characters that are different from my own identity and experiences. Just knowing games exist that I connect with on a personal level has allowed me to feel comfortable exploring identities that differ from my own. After all, do we not enjoy movies and books that take us out of our own experience? 

I still enjoy games in which I can create my own character. I love imagining pieces of myself existing within fictional realities, but the illusion only goes so far. The physical manifestation of your character within a game doesn't often change anything about the narrative. In life, our physical appearances affect how we interact with the world in a profound and unavoidable way. I wanted to explore other ways in which a player might reflect their identity within a game. How would a player connect with their character if they had no indicator of their physical attributes? If their choices — devoid of visual feedback — were responsible for creating their avatar’s physical identity, would players still feel represented by the  character born from those choices? These are the questions I’m exploring through the design of PERMUTATION.