Character visual design is the part closest to players’ hearts in a game. When iterating on our characters, I decided to focus almost entirely on one foundational element: body proportions. Once proportions are set, they dictate everything that comes after—clothing, facial expressions, animation style, and even the overall art direction.
"Jing" springs from the "晶" in my partner's and my names. Three suns stacked in oracle bones once meant stars in the sky.
Video Games first land on the eyes. So we started with "睛" (eyeball)—homophone to "晶." The logo's heart: an ancient eye glyph, raw, gritty, a primal spell's punch. We wanted cave-paint vibes—alien yet déjà vu.
What to tuck in the eyeball? Star charts, distant peaks, stargazers… We settled on a minimalist silhouette: a trekker gazing afar, birds in tow. Abstract, yet crystal-clear—one glance screams "set forth." Not mere pattern, but RSVP: step through these eyes into another realm.
For type, I dodged sleek sans-serifs and grabbed French Clarendon. It once branded Wild West wanted posters and 50s-60s sci-fi flicks—reeks of conquest and the unknown. Hand-sketching the "I," it rose like a Corinthian column—tall, weathered. That instant, I felt fonts could narrate too.
Final cut locked in. Borrowed "晶"'s sound, "睛"'s image. The eyeball's "expedition" cameo? Our studio's warmest invite.
Most of the time, I’m the designated “gaming buddy” for our kid playing The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild, because when Dad steps in, she feels like she’s under “colossal pressure.” That day, I had some stuff to handle, so I specifically asked Dad to take over the gaming duties. Sure enough, it wasn’t long before the familiar sound of “bickering” echoed from the living room. I peeked in and caught a hilarious family mini-drama unfolding over “game coaching.”
Hey, everyone! As a game artist, I’ve been painting in Photoshop for years, and working with layers is second nature. But layer management? That’s always been a headache. Today, I want to share how I recently used AI to write Photoshop scripts to tackle the hassle of layer naming and adjustments. Surprisingly, it’s been a real time-saver!
In sci-fi films, there’s always that unforgettable scene: a spaceship hits a crisis, hibernation pods creak open, and the sleepers inside emerge, struggling awake from viscous liquid, coughing, gasping. These “aged infants,” in their half-dreaming, half-waking moment, flash a glimmer of bewilderment in their eyes, as if a thousand years of time condense into a single instant.
Indulgence, the game we are developing, is a Narrative Sandbox Game (NSG). Unlike ACT, RPG, or Rogue-lite, which are more approachable for mainstream players. The Narrative Sandbox is primarily targeted for dedicated players, as many mainstream gamers are unfamiliar with it. Therefore, I believe it is crucial to introduce the genre of Narrative Sandbox Game (NSG) before discussing our own game.
While working on the UI for a trading interface these past few days, the street vendor’s call of “One dollar for two kilograms” keeps echoing in my head. This bizarre feeling must have some connection, so I decided to write about it.
Designing a logo has always stirred up a tangled mess of emotions in me. The moment you start naming something new, it’s like you’re holding the reins of destiny—thrilling, yet terrifying, as if one wrong move could tank everything. So, you tread lightly, right?
I’m thinking, if I were someone who’d never written a thing, clueless about stringing words together, the moment I saw this “opening words” appear online, I’d probably be dancing with joy, waving my arms like a kid who just discovered candy.
Dear DevLog,
We are Yukai and Loomi, a couple who spent years creating our game Indulgence. This is the first letter to you, and it's long overdue. I know we should have been here from the start, writing down every bit of the game, sharing our joy, frustration, and even anger along the way. But why didn't we?