The Highest Perfection Looks Imperfect
The highest perfection is like imperfection, And its use is never impaired. Tao Te Ching, Chapter 45 In 1997, 3D Realms announced Duke Nukem Forever, the sequel to one of the most beloved shooters of its era. The studio was rich, talented, and famous, and its answer to every question about the release date was the same: “When it’s done.” A year later, a better game engine came out, and the team switched to it, throwing away much of what they had built. Then graphics moved on again, and they rebuilt again. Every time the game got close, the state of the art moved, and the game had to catch up so it would not look dated on launch day. It was never allowed to be merely good, because it had to be the best. The game finally shipped in 2011, fourteen years later, after a funding dispute with its publisher forced the original studio to lay off the entire team in 2009, and another company finished the job. Reviewers tore it apart. Chasing the perfect game, they had produced an outdated one, and in the meantime an entire generation of good games had shipped and been loved, made by studios willing to call something done. Nobody stopped 3D Realms. They had the money, the talent, and the fans. The only thing standing between that game and the world was the studio’s own idea of what it should have been. That is the trouble with perfectionism. It is not a virtue in disguise. It is an enemy in disguise, and a very effective one, because it wears the uniform of the thing you care about most. It does not tell you to stop caring about your work. It tells you to care about it so much that you never finish, never ship, and in the worst case never start. A Rough Start Is the Best Start The most expensive form of perfectionism is the one that keeps you at the starting line. You know how it…