The Resolution Canvas

The new year began as it always did—bright, full of potential, and steeped in reflection. On January 1, 2025, I woke up early, unusually energized. Something about this year felt different. I wanted to do more than just promise myself that I’d get better at something or develop a new habit. This year, I wanted to create something tangible, meaningful—something that could outlast me.

I made coffee, sat at my desk, and opened my journal to the blank page I had reserved for my New Year’s resolutions. Unlike past years, when I scrawled lists like "exercise more" or "spend less time on social media," this time I wrote one line: "Create a world that others can step into."

That was it. That was my resolution. I wanted to build a creative project—a world so immersive, so intricate, that anyone who explored it would feel as though they’d discovered something alive. But how could I translate such an ambitious idea into reality?

The answer, surprisingly, came from an old passion I had tucked away in the corner of my life: storytelling. For years, I’d dabbled in short stories, created outlines for novels, and even written scripts for a tabletop role-playing game I hosted for friends. Yet, I’d never allowed myself to go all-in on building a fully realized world.

This year, I decided to combine storytelling with another medium I’d been curious about but never fully explored—interactive digital art. My resolution transformed into a specific goal: I would create a story-driven interactive experience. Part video game, part visual novel, part choose-your-own-adventure story.

Laying the Groundwork

By mid-January, I had sketched out the broad strokes of what my project would be. I envisioned a narrative that revolved around a crumbling city where time worked in fragments. Characters from different eras overlapped in their stories, and players could navigate their way through a labyrinth of choices, unlocking pieces of the past and shaping the future.

To make this world feel authentic, I knew I had to approach it in layers. First, I created the “spine” of the narrative. I filled pages of my notebook with the history of the city—its founding, its golden age, and the mysterious event that shattered time into fragments. Every small detail had to feel interconnected, from the unique dialects of its neighborhoods to the types of food vendors sold on cobblestone streets.

But my vision wasn’t limited to words. The experience had to be visual. The city had to be brought to life through design. And so, for the first time since high school, I dusted off my drawing tablet and began teaching myself digital illustration again.

Overcoming the Fear of Starting
In February, I hit my first major hurdle. Imposter syndrome reared its ugly head as I stared at the messy drafts of character sketches and unpolished writing. Was I biting off more than I could chew? Did I really have the skills to make this world come alive?

One evening, after hours of staring at a blank screen, I decided to take a step back. Instead of trying to create perfection from the start, I shifted my focus to prototyping. I built rough versions of scenes in my engine of choice—the Gobot game engine—and allowed myself to experiment with mechanics. Could players interact with artifacts to reveal memories? Could conversations with characters alter the city’s timeline?

These rough prototypes weren’t pretty, but they worked. More importantly, they reignited my excitement. The fear of imperfection melted as I realized that this was a process—a journey, not a finished product.

Building the Heart of the Project
By March, I found a rhythm. Weekends were my sacred creative time. Each Saturday morning, I’d map out one small piece of the project to focus on—designing a district of the city, writing dialogue for a key character, or creating an ambient soundscape for the marketplace.

One of my favorite moments from this period was crafting the backstory for a character named Leena, a time-worn archivist who remembered fragments of every era. She served as the guide for players, offering cryptic hints and heartfelt wisdom. Writing her dialogue was like breathing life into someone who had existed in my imagination for years. Her story felt so real, I found myself dreaming about her, seeing the city through her eyes.

By late spring, I began sharing snippets of my work with a small group of trusted friends. They explored the early build of the game, offering feedback and encouragement. Some pointed out inconsistencies I hadn’t noticed, while others suggested ideas that enriched the world even further.

Expanding the Vision
The summer months were a whirlwind of growth. What started as a solo project evolved into something collaborative. One friend offered to compose an original score for the game, blending haunting piano melodies with atmospheric effects. Another helped refine character designs, giving each person in the city a unique silhouette and color palette.

I also dove into coding with a newfound determination, learning how to create branching narrative paths and seamless transitions between scenes. Though it was challenging, every breakthrough felt exhilarating—like solving a complex puzzle.

Challenges and Triumphs
Autumn brought its share of setbacks. I underestimated how long it would take to implement some features, and there were days when progress felt painfully slow. Debugging ate up hours, and I wrestled with moments of frustration when things didn’t work as planned.

But for every challenge, there was a triumph. I’ll never forget the first time I completed a fully playable chapter. Watching friends navigate the city, hearing them laugh at a clever line of dialogue or gasp at a plot twist—it reminded me why I’d taken on this project in the first place.

The Final Stretch
As December approached, I began polishing the experience. The resolution I had made almost a year earlier was no longer just a resolution. It was a world—breathing, growing, and alive. I didn’t finish everything by the end of 2025; the world was too big for that. But I didn’t mind. The city and its stories would continue to evolve.

On New Year’s Eve, I sat down to reflect on the journey. My creative project wasn’t just about crafting a world for others—it had been about discovering a part of myself. Through every challenge, I learned the value of persistence, collaboration, and trusting my creative instincts.

As the clock struck midnight, I wrote my next year’s resolution: "Bring the world to life." This time, I knew exactly what it meant.