I have to be honest, my original motivation for designing this game was merely to have some fun and to showcase my web site and its namesake -- Nowhere Road. I really had no instructional goals at all. I even had some selfish motives. I thought if I could make something fun and creative with Authorware, it might entice people to visit my web site and buy my Authorware book (hey, I gotta put my daughter through college while paying off my wife's student loans!). Hardly honorable reasons for a Professor of Instructional Technology, I know. I had joked for some time about making a game about a "mild-mannered professor-type" who bikes to work and has to dodge angry motorists and mean country dogs, so I had already decided about the basic game structure. But as I thought about it, it occurred to me that this game provided a nice opportunity to also teach a few things about bicycle safety. I think of this game not as a design problem, but as a design opportunity.

The idea to document my design efforts and struggles comes from my current efforts to write an article for a special upcoming issue of Educational Technology at the invitation of Ward Cates of Lehigh University (he is the guest editor). The purpose of the special issue is to see how a group of well-known designers approach the very same design problem. The subject matter of the design problem is introductory physics -- a topic I enjoy (believe it or not, I often relax late at nght reading theoretical physics while sipping a glass of cheap wine). Some of my most favorite design creations involved this subject matter, such as Space Shuttle Commander.This sounded like a wonderful writing project and I agreed to join the effort. I invited Michael Matzko, a Ph.D. candidate in our department, to co-author the piece with me. Mike is a talented multimedia designer and developer. We didn't have to actually build the instruction or artifact described in the article, just come up with a design document and talk about why we took the approach we did. We finished a good first draft of the article in May, 1999 and we are now struggling to finish the article. Surprisingly, I did not enjoy writing this draft nearly as much as I thought I would. I think it's because I don't design instruction this way. Instead, I design as I build, following a methodology that's very individualistic, but probably best described as part rapid prototyping and part constructionist. As a result, I have found the design-writing exercise less than satisfying. When I made the decision to start building "Nowhere Road - The Game", I thought this would represent a much more authentic and realistic account of how I really do instructional design, and much closer to the spirit of what Ward intends in this special issue (I intend to mention this "making of" effort somewhere in the article).

A final motivation comes from my Summer 1999 teaching assignment at UGA. I am co-teaching (also with Michael Matzko) a series of courses here this summer at UGA that we refer to as the Studio Experience. Mike Orey, Jim King, and I, in consultation with many of our students, spent about two years redesigning the several courses dealing with the design, development, and evaluation of educational multimedia around a studio model. This redesign coincided with the transition from quarters to semesters here at UGA. The change to a studio model represents a fundamental shift in how we prepare people to join the ranks of multimedia designers, developers, and thinkers. A core principle of this approach is that it promotes reflection of the design process and encourages students to learn from other design efforts. I felt that this "making of" project would be an excellent way to model some of the design principles that we promote in the studio. I think it's important for professors to practice what we preach (at least occasionally).

I think a word about my design approach is appropriate at this point. OK, I admit it, I often design in ways that are often considered mysterious ... er, I mean "creative". Despite my huge respect for folks like Robert Gagné, I hardly ever design "according to the book" (Gagné, or otherwise). It's just that instructional design as I actually practice it is largely a creative act set in a particular context and time. But it also not accurate to say that I just "wing it". I don't have time for haphazard work and I 'get no satisfaction' (my apologies to the Rolling Stones) unless I feel I am making some progress toward some goal. Instead, I conceptualize a general direction for a product, start building it, and then follow the twists and turns of the design problem, the tools available to me, and my expertise with those tools. I also spend considerable time in-between programming sessions thinking long and hard through the conceptual elements of the project as a whole and the design issues facing me at the moment. Ironically, I get some of my best ideas while going on long bike rides! Finally, I try to get early prototypes of the product in the hands of actual users as soon as possible. The idea is not just to perform a formative evaluation of my design, but actually to help shape and direct my design from the earliest possible moment. I like to say that I think of users as "co-designers" of my projects because many of the ideas are theirs, not mine. Some of this philosophy has been carried out to the extreme in Project KID DESIGNER, where I've worked for elementary and middle school students as their programmer. You must remember, too, that I am a former elementary school teacher, and my design philosophy has been molded by those experiences. Perhaps I'll try to elaborate on this in the weeks ahead. BTW, I feel that the "book approach" to instructional design is an excellent way for "newbies" to get started. I feel there is no contradiction in my reasoning. I'm a firm believer in the necessity of experience to situate and hone instructional design skills. This reminds me of my first year of teaching -- I certainly hope those fifth graders got an education somewhere down the line.

Due to my Catholic and blue collar upbringing on the Southside of Pittsburgh, I feel a little embarassed and uncomfortable to talk about what I consider to be some of my strengths as a designer. But I I feel I have a certain aptitude and motivation (whatever that means) for game design. Some people are creative through paint, music, or writing, but my creativity seems to flow when I am involved in designing a game. Go figure. I think it's because I never stopped designing my own games ever since I was a kid. I have spent many hours inventing interesting diversions from any old objects that happen to be in reach. You'd be amazed what games you can invent given golf balls and size D batteries. David Noah, one of my colleagues here at UGA and a gifted artist and designer, has a theory that I like. It concerns an individual's art ability but I think it equally applies to game design. As children, we are into art. We have lots of opportunities and encouragement from parents and teachers to explore art and different artistic media, such as crayons, water color, and finger paints. Somewhere along the line, though, most people give up art for various reasons. Many people take up art again later in life. His theory is that you start where you left off as a kid. Becoming an artist again, of course, is wonderful, but what a shame to have lost all those years! Although there were some lean years for me, I don't recall ever giving up making games. I'm glad I hung onto it.

For some reason, this reminds me of Garrison Keeler's recollection that although he was taught as a youngster not to want fame and fortune, he didn't know of any other way to get them. Lutherans and Catholics have much in common. (Bless me Father, for I have sinned.....)