Let Them Try
There's something I've been thinking about lately when it comes to fan projects, remakes, mods, and people who decide to take an existing idea and do something with it.
Why are we so quick to discourage people?
I recently watched TempestView's video about his Parasite Eve fan remake. The video showed actual development progress: environments, comparisons with the original, level design, enemies, combat, and some of the decisions behind the project.
You can find more of TempestView's work on his YouTube channel.
What stuck with me wasn't just the development footage. It was the discussion surrounding the reactions creators sometimes receive.
There's an attitude that if you're making a fan project, you should keep quiet, finish it, release it, and be on your way. That doesn't sit particularly well with me.
Why?
Isn't part of the fun of creating something being able to share the process? To show progress, explain decisions, learn from other people, and maybe even find someone who wants to contribute?
Game development is difficult enough without people treating enthusiasm like a crime.
The things we make from the things we love
Look around. People create mods, fan games, remakes, translations, reinterpretations, and entirely new experiences inspired by things that came before them.
Take Cyberpunk: Edgerunners 2, for example.
One character who caught my attention is Capri. Without getting too deep into spoilers, she's an interesting example of a digital construct connected to multiple human engrams.
I also found an interview with director Kai Ikarashi and writer Masahiko Otsuka discussing the creative direction behind the series and the development of characters including Capri.
And yes, I'll admit I'm looking forward to seeing whether someone eventually figures out how to bring Capri's voice and likeness into Cyberpunk 2077. A little technological mischief never hurt anyone.
But the broader idea is what interests me.
We take things we've seen, heard, played, and experienced. We combine them with our own ideas and perspectives. Sometimes the result resembles its inspiration. Sometimes it becomes something completely different.
That's part of being creative.
Of course, inspiration and permission are two different things. Copyright still matters. Having an idea doesn't give someone the legal right to distribute another company's game, assets, or code.
But respecting those boundaries doesn't mean we should discourage people from experimenting, learning, or developing their own ideas.
My own little ILLBLEED problem
I've been sitting on ideas for an ILLBLEED revival for quite some time.
I've tried approaching Sega. I've even tried reaching out to people associated with the original voice work. I wanted to see whether there might be an opportunity to get some official recognition or approval.
That didn't happen.
But the ideas didn't disappear.
I've written story material, character outlines, opening sequences, and concepts for where the series might go. I've spent time thinking about how to preserve what made the original game unusual while exploring new directions.
And lately, I've started reaching out to people who might find the project interesting.
One is TempestView, whose Parasite Eve fan remake caught my attention.
Another is the person behind the ILLBLEED decompilation project on GitHub.
I also read their article, Consoles Playing Consoles, Part 1: This Time, Pluto Ships. It discusses retro hardware, networking, open-source experimentation, and possibilities for using technology in creative projects.
These are two separate people working in different areas. I don't know whether either will be interested in talking. They might not respond at all.
That's fine.
The important part is that I finally approached them with something more constructive than simply throwing a script at someone and hoping they'd know what to do with it.
I'm trying to start a conversation.
You don't have to believe in the project. Just don't decide for someone else.
I understand skepticism.
Not every fan project is going to be completed. Not every ambitious idea is practical. Not every person has the technical ability, resources, or experience to accomplish what they're imagining.
And that's okay.
People learn by trying. They discover limitations, make mistakes, change direction, and sometimes surprise themselves.
I'd rather see someone encouraged to explore something they believe they can do than have someone else decide beforehand that they cannot.
I'm not asking anyone to promise success. I'm not asking people to ignore legal boundaries. I'm not asking anyone to dedicate their lives to somebody else's dream.
I'm simply saying that a little encouragement can go a long way.
If someone wants to make something, let them explore the possibility. If they want to share their progress, let them share it. If they want to talk about an idea, have the conversation.
You can offer criticism without crushing enthusiasm. You can explain limitations without telling someone their time is being wasted.
And you can always choose not to participate.
But why make it your mission to convince someone else not to try?
I'd rather open a door and see who walks through it than stand in front of it telling everyone it's locked.
Let people try.
They might not get where they intended to go. They might discover something better along the way.
And sometimes, just sometimes, they might actually make something special.
Maybe the best thing we can do for someone's dream is give it enough room to breathe.
Jerry's Marginalia
An idea doesn't need a cheering crowd to be worth exploring. Sometimes all it needs is one person willing to take the first step.
— Jerry "The Ankle-Biter" Silverhand
Professional ankle-biter. Unlicensed dream defender. Lawfully neutral in most jurisdictions.