Introduction to the Game Design Document

A game design document isn't really that important in the creation of a game.  Sure, go ahead and try to make a video game that someone would play (and buy) without one.  That'll show you how unimportant it is.  You fool.

(I hope you didn't stop reading this after the first sentence and just started making a game.  Then again, if it gets released somehow and does REALLY, REALLY well, making you incredibly rich - please tell everyone that I was the one that told you to go ahead and not have one.  But how would you know I just asked you to do that?  You stopped reading a long time ago, right?)

I associate a game design document with a film script.  Both a game and a movie take a lot of time, equipment, and various hard working souls to make real.  And all of those things require money.  You can have the coolest "Star Wars" meets "The Three Stooges" meets the tall blue lizard smurfs in "Avatar" meet "The Day the Clown Cried" opera/movie/video game/ice sculpture all worked out in your head, but if you can't write it down - you're screwed.  Write something down.  Show it to people.  They'll help you.  Or they'll know somebody that can help you.  Changes may happen here and there, but you'll find that the parts of your idea that were destined to remain will stay.  The crappy parts, no matter how cool you imagined they'd be in the final product, will thankfully be tossed onto the dung pile.  Goodbye talking blowfish robot with a Rosie O'Donnell head.  Goodbye to the polka-funk-fusion soundtrack.  Goodbye and good riddance.  Taking the seeds of ideas from your mind and letting the roots grow deep on paper makes your creation one step closer to being something that the world can soak up and enjoy.  So get writing, Jack.

Oh, and here's the greatest game design document of all time, but it's missing one thing - it doesn't mention how the game ends.

(fade up eerie, minor key version of "Star Spangled Banner")