Thursday, March 10
11:00 a.m.
"Hi!" booms Adriel Wallick.
"Hi!" roars back a crowd of eager developers.
The Junction is bursting with people. I've gathered with nearly 200 others in the restaurant in Chicago's Union Station to witness the kickoff of Train Jam 2016, Wallick's cross-country game jam. Or rather, the soft kickoff. I squish my way through the crowd, winding through empty spaces with awkward delicacy as Wallick delivers instructions and introductions. Her tiny voice cuts through the chatter with surprising force to reach even the room's corners.
"This is our biggest Train Jam ever," she says.
At 2 p.m., developers from all over the world will depart aboard the California Zephyr. The train will zip through the flats of Iowa, the mountains of Colorado and more before arriving at its final destination of Emeryville, California. But before it does, developers will take over multiple train cars to create new games with people many of them have never met before.
Getting this many people coordinated and even on the train to begin with sounds like a herculean task, but Wallick knows how to motivate a crowd.
"There are no refunds," she says.
11:19 a.m.
Chaos. It's minutes after Wallick has announced the jam's theme: Maximum Capacity. Everyone scrambles to find a place to jot down ideas or chat with others. The notebooks come out as developers furiously scribble down ideas, while others sketch out their early plans. People walk around, swapping game pitches and professions.
"This is our biggest train jam ever."
The group is a mix of professionals and hobbyists, indies and not-so-indies. Some will end their train trip with their first-ever visit to the Game Developers Conference in San Francisco, while others are just along for the ride. The restaurant's atmosphere is friendly, but still a little socially strained with the oddity of the situation. A few people watch uncertainly on the sidelines of conversations, looking as sure about jumping in as a cat peering at bathwater.
As the crowds continue to mingle, one developer stops another. Do you have experience with voice acting, he asks? The latter does not. But his voice is deep and striking, and that's exactly what caught the first man's attention to begin with.
Slowly, even the most reluctant developers emerge from the sidelines. Everyone has something to trade or talk about, even if they don't realize it at first.
11:40 a.m.
It's pitch time. People head in a loose line to the restaurant's bar to shout their ideas to the room. But time is of the essence. Developers will soon need to gather elsewhere in the station to drop off their luggage and check in for seats. Each person only gets a few sentences to describe their idea.
"What do you need?" Wallick shouts when they finish. The answers range from programmers and designers to musicians and artists.
The pitches are nothing if not varied. People yell out ideas that dip into anxiety, train spoofs and even a game for cat ladies.
"remember Speed with Keanu Reeves? It's kind of like that."
12:14 p.m.
A waiting game begins. Jammers peel off into two groups — coach and sleeper cars — to await boarding. They find each other by the bright blue nametags handed out at breakfast. As they pass the hours, discussion wanders from the games they plan to make to their history.
"It's kind of like — remember Speed with Keanu Reeves? It's kind of like that," says one jammer to another.
"Have you been on Train Jam before?" asks another.
Eventually the conversation swells to become a buzz of voices, impossible to pick out individuals or snippets. Rami Ismail of developer Vlambeer pops in to check on everyone and offer advice: Don't split up.
2:00 p.m.
On the dot, the train ambles to life. It will make dozens of stops along the way to let people on and off, but for now it's time to settle into seats and wait.
The California Zephyr
2:35 p.m.
Walking on a moving train takes a certain kind of swagger — or, more specifically, waddle. The aisles are narrow, and train cars wobble back and forth like a rocking ship. Jammers are filling in seats left and right, camping out with their laptops and wires. There are two observation cars where most of the action will take place. The first, a Sony-sponsored car dedicated exclusively to the jam. The second, a mixed-company car for regular passengers and Train Jam overflow.
Each observation car offers the same setup: a series of single and doubled-up seats aimed directly at the windows for sightseeing. There will be plenty of that to do.
2:53 p.m.
The jam is now in full swing. People are wrapping up planning, starting to code, drawing out concepts. Most have banded together in teams, though a few developers have chosen to go solo.
3:06 p.m.
In the jammers-only observation car, Laurens De Gier and Evan Todd are set up to begin their first-ever Train Jam. De Gier is a professional in the programmer world, working at a digital production company on apps and games, while Todd is a one-man indie studio. For Todd, the prospect of GDC at the end of the line is almost as exciting as the jam itself.
"I've always wanted to go to GDC since I was, like, 10 years old," he says. "I heard about Train Jam and it sounded awesome. I know a lot of people on Twitter who talk about it every year and make me jealous, so I decided to go this year."
"I made a boat!"
The two have decided to make their games solo. To fit the Maximum Capacity theme, Todd is toying with the idea of how much someone can carry. It's dangerous resource management; the player's character will load up on items, but their movement speed becomes restricted as they take on more weight. Add in a monster, and you have a challenge. De Gier, meanwhile, has decided to go with a riverboat race. To power their boat, players have to shovel coal into the engine without overloading it.
Both jammers have just begun. Todd is copy-pasting code, while De Gier has started to make some progress.
"I made a boat!" he says.
Onboard the California Zephyr. Photo by Izzy Gramp.
3:28 p.m.
On last year's Train Jam, Jerry Belich was soldering together electronic components as the train sped toward California. It sounds like surprising leniency on Amtrak's part that ... actually might not be leniency at all.
"I didn't ask," Belich says.
Belich, seated with Mike Lazer-Walker, Zach Johnson and Lisa Walkosz-Migliacio, is working on safer projects this year. The four are still parsing out ideas to tackle together, one of which would be an FMV game set in the future. The idea revolves around a train-based murder mystery that exists only for people's entertainment.
"for our show today we're going to kill somebody on the train."
"We thought having a weird, a terrifying host of a show in the future called Max Capacity in that theme would be funny," Belich says. "Doing some kind of murder mystery on a train ... like, 'Alright, for our show today we're going to kill somebody on the train,' and then the audience gets to figure out who it is."
There's another potential project in the mix as well. Walkosz-Migliacio explains it as an animal chomping down ingredients that then blend in its stomach. It's a crafting game. It's …
"It's a poo game," Walkosz-Migliacio says.
3:34 p.m.
"I've never done this before," says Sean Vanaman, speaking about both Train Jam and game jams in general. "I'm very confused. Baby's first [game jam]."
The Campo Santo co-founder is fresh off the release of the studio's debut game, Firewatch. Train Jam is a brain flush for him, he says, a chance to get away. Vanaman and a co-worker, Ben Burbank, are here to make a game together — their first from scratch, in fact. Burbank joined Campo Santo far into the development of Firewatch. He's a late addition to Train Jam as well, having purchased his ticket some 48 hours prior.
"It's a great opportunity to go hang out with my friends and get some —" Burbank pauses. "I have friggin' pizza in my backpack."
Still not the weirdest thing all weekend to hear about in someone's bag.
"I have friggin' pizza in my backpack."
Vanaman and Burbank are working on a yet-to-be-named first-person "energy distribution" puzzle game. It'll offer some action mixed in with a short story, and "we'll see if it's any good," Vanaman says. The two are teamed up with Finland-based developer Samuli Jääskeläinen and Emily Dillhunt, a student they've taken on as a mentee. Dillhunt is tasked with the game's art, while Jääskeläinen is working on level editing and putting scenes together. The game is approximately "0 percent done," by the team's estimation.
"I don't think we'll sleep at all," Burbank says.
"I might," Vanaman says.
6:03 p.m.
You can find a seat in the mixed-company observation car. It's early in the trip still, and the views are unremarkable.
Jammers are headphones-on, eyes on their screens, deep into their projects. A woman draws serenely on her tablet. Here and there a few people discuss logistics or gameplay. Some people are swapping passwords to access Wi-Fi — soon to be a largely fruitless effort — but overall it's a much quieter scene than usual.
In the jammers-only car, it's packed, but just as tame. Every now and then the train rocks wildly, and someone lets out a surprised "whoa!"
My phone's shoddy map tells me we're somewhere in Iowa. The hills roll by uninterrupted.
6:57 p.m.
In the lower levels of each observation car you can find the cafe cart, a place to buy snacks outside of regular meals. In the jam observation car, there's something even better than Snickers or coffee: a small group of developers from Media Molecule.
The four-person team is here to create something and show off its current project, Dreams, at the same time — making its game jam game within the studio's existing game. In game jam world, it makes perfect sense. When the dinner bell rings, you obey
Designer John Beech and artist Jon Eckersley explain the basic concept of Dreams, a project that gives players the power to mold whatever they wish.
"The thing with LittleBigPlanet, it was very hard to see the person that had made it," Eckersley says of Media Molecule's long-running franchise. "I think about maybe that last 5 percent of people could really, if they use all the bells and whistles, they could maybe give it their stamp. Something we've tried especially with the art style for Dreams is for people's personalities to come through."
The Jo(h)ns are just starting to show me around when the train speaker statics to life. Their dining car table is ready, and so is mine. We cut the interview off with no hesitation. When the dinner bell rings, you obey.
Jon Eckersley of Media Molecule. Photo by Izzy Gramp.
8:37 p.m.
With appetites satiated, the Media Molecule gang and I resume our talk. The group has staked out a table in one of the cafe cars to support its equipment, and oh, what an equipment setup it is.
"What's happening here?" I ask, pointing to the mess of cables, PlayStation 4s and other unidentifiable objects.
"A fire hazard," they reply.
The Media Molecule team has a series of cables and cords, as well as a private server for the purposes of the train, to run its creation. The group is working on a herding game within Dreams, in which players will gather "little cute dudes that look like Tribbles from Star Trek" back to their spaceship, Beech says. It's a surprisingly adorable game from a group of grown men, but it has a dark twist: You're actually using these precious little fellas as fuel. The project is still early in progress.
[It's] a bit like watching Bob Ross paint
They're showing off their game as much as they are playing with it; Beech has already demoed the game to a handful of devs in the hours since Train Jam began. He explains that Dreams is very much about performance, and the act of watching someone create.
"It's a bit like looking through someone's sketchbook," Eckersley adds.
Beech asks for a creation idea. I still have Star Trek on the brain, so I go with a spaceship. Using PlayStation Move controllers, Beech takes basic shapes and smooths or resizes them to fit his design. It's done within a matter of minutes and it — well, it actually looks pretty good.
"It was entirely about serendipity in this case," he says. "It grows. These things come out of nowhere."
Watching Beech create in Dreams is a bit like watching Bob Ross paint. It's soothing in a way you don't quite understand, a visual bedtime story. My eyelids droop a little, and I find myself wearing a dopey smile while he works.
"We really want to appeal to people that have a game inside of them, but have no idea or the inclination to learn [how to make games]," Eckersley says.
9:14 p.m.
It's quiet. Sleepiness, and for many, jetlag, is setting in. Jammers are still heads-down on their projects, but the observation cars are noticeably more empty than usual. In the coach cars, the riders are curling up in their seats to sleep.
I'm drifting off a little when a developer next to me leans over and asks if I want to try a game. His name is Vidhvat Madan, and as we talk fellow team member IJke Botman walks over and kneels next to us to chat. Their project, Hellevator, is still in its early stages. I play for a few minutes as someone trying to escape hell on an elevator; it'll be up to the player to save civilians who also want out.
"time is running out. actually running out."
Madan and Botman are both newcomers to Train Jam; they hail from India and the Netherlands, respectively, though they're currently based in Austin, Texas. The chance to travel across the U.S. on the way to GDC struck them as a "bigger, better adventure," Botman says.
"It's just a very different atmosphere than a regular jam," he adds. "Regular jams, everyone sort of understands what's going to happen. They've done them a bunch of times. You go in and you make a team, you go out, buy some food, and you spend the rest of the time in a small room not sleeping and working on a game. Here it's just a different energy. You're very excited because you're looking out. The train is continually moving. It's awesome."
Madan describes the experiences as a little surreal.
"You're making your way to the destination where you're going, and time is running out," he says. "Actually running out."
Time has definitely run out for Thursday. Developers and non-jammers alike are heading off to bed or nodding off in their seats.
Friday, March 11
9:13 a.m.
It's a late morning by Train Jam standards, but early by my own. That seems to also be the case for Jerry Belich and Zach Johnson, whom I find seated at their usual table without Mike Lazer-Walker or Lisa Walkosz-Migliacio — the other half of their FMV project. The two are joking about a new character they've conceived since the last time we talked: Laundry Mike. No, wait. That's not right.
"Laundry Matt," Belich scolds Johnson. "Are you kidding? How do you screw that up? It's a pun. 'Laundry Mike'? That makes no sense. His name is Laundry Matt, and he runs the laundromat but also helps people with ghosts, because ghosts need sheets to use as their corporeal form."
I have no idea what Belich is talking about. This sounds like a far cry from FMV world, but Belich assures me it's connected. According to the two devs, the FMV game is still in progress and "anywhere from 0 to 95 percent" done. But more importantly, the duo is working on separate projects. Belich and Johnson are playing with a line simulator game — think airport queues or theater events, where everything is one big clusterfuck of ropes and slowly moving bodies. You have to manage people's stress as they move through the line. If someone flips out, you lose.
"one way that we deal with it is drinking."
Working on one game under time constraints sounds stressful enough, let alone two. When I ask the pair how they manage to juggle all their projects, they seem unperturbed.
"I mean, one way that we deal with it is drinking," Belich deadpans.
"We had lots of bourbon for our brainstorm last night," Johnson adds.
"We did polish off one bottle of bourbon last night," Belich says.
"But let the record show that we stayed in a bedroom car the entire time," Johnson interrupts.
"Yes," Belich continues. "We followed the rules, and we're very creative because of the bourbon."
Traveling through Colorado
9:25 a.m.
"Well, I've discovered that I'm making Bloodborne," says Evan Todd. In this case, that equals high difficulty and risk/reward management.
Todd has slept only a few hours at this point, having drifted off to sleep in the observation car around 2 a.m. and come back around 6 a.m. His coach seat has actually been invaded by someone else, so for now this is his new home. With Colorado on the agenda today, it's not a bad place to be.
His game is probably about halfway along at this point. It currently features a little block dashing around a room picking up coins. You need a certain amount to get through the door, but the more you carry the slower you go. Next, he'll create a monster that chases you — and kills you a lot, as I'll learn later.
9:28 a.m.
For the last three years, Abdullah Hamed has taken the train from Chicago to Emeryville as part of Train Jam. This year, he's noticed something a little different.
"It's a lot more diverse," Hamed says. "A lot of people are non-binary, a lot of people who are a lot further than the United States."
Ghaida Zahran, who's working on a team with Hamed, is a Train Jam newbie who echoes the statement in regards to the gaming community. Zahran currently works in "mainstream tech" as a product designer at Netflix.
"There's so much that mainstream tech industry can learn from indie game dev when it comes to inclusion and diversity," Zahran says. "Being excellent to one another."
Hamed and Ghaida Zahran are making a party game about anxiety. Being around people causes you anxiety, but avoiding people makes you bored. The goal is to keep your anxiety at a manageable level — and to do so while sharing your controller with four other players.
"We thought it was cool to talk about something as serious as anxiety," Hamed says. "Some of us face anxiety when going out and socializing. ... We wanted to show that there's nothing really to be afraid of."
9:45 a.m.
Sean Vanaman has a succinct description of Campo Santo when it first started.
"We didn't know how to do shit," he says.
That comes with a major caveat, in which case "shit" can be translated to "something other than a game from Telltale" — the studio at which Vanaman and co-founder Jake Rodkin previously worked. Vanaman compares Firewatch to a two-year game jam in which the team learned how to make a game outside of its comfort zone.
"I know how to make a Telltale game," he says. "But it felt like Firewatch had to exist to really cut the cord. Even in that, I was returning to old habits, old tricks of how to tell a story. I'm very cognizant of myself doing that now, so I'm trying to push myself. But it's fun to do that here. I feel like I'll go home tomorrow night and be like, 'I'm 1 percent better at doing certain things.'"
Their project so far focuses on Maxine, an energy delivery woman. Intercut between her work are snippets of her personal life and the relationship she has with her husband, which is dysfunctional at best.
"We didn't know how to do shit."
"I'm actually really into what makes healthy relationships work," Vanaman says. "I think communication and creating depth in a relationship is one of the coolest things about being able to be a creature that can have relationships. I feel like I can get that out by showing the flip side. How people act out in relationships."
A little further down in the car are Samuli Jääskeläinen and Emily Dillhunt, the other half of Vanaman and Ben Burbank's group. Dillhunt has been learning the hard way how difficult it is to draw on a tablet on a moving train. She's taken to relying more heavily on programs like Photoshop than by her own hand.
"If I drew it in myself, it would look like a 5-year-old drew it in with crayon," she says. "I've never had to consider that for another game jam because normally you're sitting comfortably at a desk. It's well-lit; you have a desktop computer in front of you instead of a laptop.
"It's almost like a sporting event where anything could go wrong. You're not the home team anymore."
Two jammers hard at work. Photo by Izzy Gramp.
10:04 a.m.
Korigan Stone holds up an odd-shaped piece of cardboard. She asks me what I see.
"A pizza box," I reply promptly.
That's what it actually is, but for the purpose of this exercise I need to think a little broader.
"There's no wrong answer!" Stone says. "It is whatever you choose to have it be."
I'm still thinking about spaceships, and apparently so is everyone else. It's the most popular answer, while others include a duck, a whale and a sad elephant. It's a game Stone has made to play with me and other passengers on the train. To fit the theme, she's chosen to create a collection of small games, instead of just one. So far, the running count is 20. Stone is interested in physical games, rather than virtual ones. Take rock-paper-scissors, for example — it's an experience everyone can play, regardless of their age or even language.
"I want to do something like [rock-paper-scissors], except it's collaborative and creative," Stone says. "I would love to make something that spreads virally, like any folk game. People don't even know who made it, but it creates positive experiences wherever it goes.
"I am just doing this as I go, and then by having conversations with people I'm inspired by them and then I credit them as they've contributed."
Stone's collaborators include the jam's organizer, Adriel Wallick. Stone says that Wallick was concerned about not making any games on the train, so the two worked with another dev on the train to create a physical version of Pac-Man. One person plays Pac-Man. One person plays a ghost. One person plays the pellet. Go.
10:29 a.m.
The train snakes through Colorado, widely regarded as the most scenic part of the trip. This roughly translates to it being impossible to find a seat. Everyone is focused on the passing scenery today.
Two members of the Media Molecule team burst into the mixed-company observation car with a camera in hand. They're interviewing each other about the trip so far, then they're striking up conversations with devs around them. The few people who aren't part of the jam seem bemused by the brief event, but soon return to snapping pictures on their phones.
"I haven't been to bed yet!"
It's a trend that will continue. No one gives it a second glance anymore. A parent consoles a fussy baby. A group of women bust out cupcakes and birthday wishes.
Media Molecule is still here. John Beech's voice drifts through the car.
"I haven't been to bed yet!" he says.
2:25 p.m.
Vidhvat Madan and IJke Botman are feeling confident about Hellevator. The groundwork is laid. The design is narrowed and being tweaked, and Lisa Plokker, the game's artist, is finishing final art.
"We think it has a lot of potential," Botman says. "We're excited about it. We just need to not want to do too much. I think the most difficult thing is not to do too much. All the possibilities we see with this, we either need to write them down or forget about them, but not try to put them in right now — because otherwise we're just going to have a Frankenstein of a game that's barely functional.
But those ideas aren't completely going away. In fact, Botman is confident that work on the game will continue even after the game jam ends.
"What do you think, Vidhvat?" he asks, turning to his team member.
"I think so too!" Madan replies.
The wooden whistle
3:29 p.m.
The train halts at Grand Junction, Colorado. It's a longer stop than the usual pickup and drop off, and people scurry off to get fresh air or — quite the opposite — huddle around to smoke. This stop in particular is important because it's home to Dave's Depot, where Rami Ismail heads in to honor a Train Jam tradition. He buys a smooth, wooden whistle, about two hands long, stamped with Dave's Depot on the side. With a long puff, you can emulate a conductor's whistle, much like in a kid's toy train set.
In the first year of Train Jam, Ismail bought a whistle, stealthily had each participant sign it, and presented it to Adriel Wallick at the end of the jam. Last year, the signatures got a little cramped. He ponders the whistle now, with the group larger than ever, and decides maybe it's best to stick to initials only.
4:11 p.m.
In three years of Train Jams, Adriel Wallick has never left anyone behind. It's an impressive feat, given that the original jam in 2014 had 60 members. In 2015, it was about 130.
"It was a very chaotic process getting everyone on last year," she says. "It wasn't until about an hour into the train ride when I got no panicked phone calls that I was convinced we didn't leave anybody behind."
This year has been a much smoother ride, Wallick says, with no close calls and no panic. Even Amtrak now recognizes the group as an annual outing; Wallick says the company has provided logistical support for the ride, and the train employees are far more helpful. In the past, jammers have also run into problems with other passengers who aren't part of the group. With the second, Sony-sponsored observation car dedicated solely to the jam, however, that's less of an issue.
"I've been waiting to see what this year's disaster is going to be, because it's been very smooth," Wallick says.
"You know when you're always on edge waiting for that thing to go wrong? But I don't know what it's going to be."
"I've been waiting to see what this year's disaster is going to be."
Wallick won't be settling in with a team to make any games under traditional game jam circumstances, but she has been able to spend some time with participants. In general, she finds everyone to be far more relaxed than in other jams she's joined. She jokes that the lack of Wi-Fi may be the reason.
"I think a lot of it has to do with the fact that they don't accidentally spend hours on the internet," she says. "There's a lot less distractions, internet-wise. There's a lot more distractions, scenery-wise."
For now, Wallick says Train Jam will continue to be an annual event. This year is the largest the event's been to date, though she's unsure if that's a trend she can continue.
"Theoretically, the biggest we can ever get is as big as the train, which doesn't seem to be too much bigger than 200," she says. "It'll be interesting to see what we do next year, and how many more people we get on it. It's definitely happening next year."
Adriel Wallick. Photo by Izzy Gramp.
7:44 p.m.
The vibe of Train Jam has mellowed out a lot. Groups are tipping to the latter half of their projects. One developer, Michael Carriere, says that the day-one stress to make a game in a only a few days has faded.
"There was a very big divide between the jam starting [until now] ... it was kind of stressful. I was worried about how much we were going to be able to get in.
"Now we actually have something that's playable, that works, and I can kinda cruise into the finish line."
People's minds start to wander to life post-train. When I ask developers what they want to do as soon as they get to Emeryville, the answers are universal.
Take a shower. Eat some vegetables. Sleep.
Saturday, March 12
9:00 a.m.
The second half of the California Zephyr's route
On the final day of Train Jam, I find Evan Todd in his usual spot. He's running on little sleep, but his game, Haunted Heist, is mostly done and playable. I lose a few minutes running around his world, trying to carry coins and dodge monsters. Mostly I end up dying.
"I think right now it's a bit hard," he says. "Still tweaking."
That's a common theme today. Most developers I talk to are busy playtesting and polishing their work with enthusiastic energy. A little farther down the car, after we've crossed into California, I find Laurens De Gier, whom I haven't seen toiling away on his laptop much since day one. There's a reason for that.
"I kind of gave up on the project for awhile," he says.
The problems he explains to me are technical — this led to this, which then screwed everything else up. For half a day, he says, he set the game down. Eventually he found a way to work around the problem, which helped him resume his project.
"In the end, it sticks with you," De Gier says. "You feel like, 'Yeah, I can still do something about it.' And then you just feel like, 'OK, I can do this little thing.' And then you just roll into it again and start working.
"It is a passion. It is a hobby. You like doing it, although not per se this game. In the end, I just hope to have something playable for people to have fun with."
11:14 a.m.
To Sean Vanaman, working on his jam game, Discharge, has felt eerily similar to working on Firewatch.
"Well, day one was like year one," he jokes. "You struggle with your creative insecurities. And day two was like year two, where you have to put your fears in a box and make something. It was actually totally fine! If anything, it made me feel bad for taking so long on other stuff."
Reflecting on his first jam, Vanaman says it made him think about story and development in a new way. He concludes that it's been "good to just make some shit," and that it's helped alleviate some stress he's felt in the wake of Firewatch's success.
"I feel like it could be very easy to get slowed down by the fact that 'whatever we do next has to be better,'" he says. "You come on a game jam, and it doesn't have to be anything. It just has to be done. A couple times I felt myself feeling that sort of anxiety: 'Well, this has to be good because I'm making it. People are going to expect this to be good.'
"No, fuck that. That's a really stupid feeling I had at one point, two nights ago. That's probably the biggest takeaway — just make stuff, because it's easy to not."
Passing through Colorado. Photo by Izzy Gramp.
11:37 a.m.
If you pass a developer right now, you'll probably be asked to playtest their game. Korigan Stone is making her way through the train trying to learn everyone's name, having completed 50 tiny games by now. The Hellevator team has new monsters to show. Abdullah Hamed can be seen pinging around the car asking people to try the anxiety party game while Ghaida Zahran and Andrei Marks finish up.
"This is often the busiest time of the jam, but also when the best things happen," Marks says as I move on.
It's just after noon when I find the Media Molecule team. The group is pleased with both of its games — Dreams and the jam game it created inside of it.
John Beech demos the almost finished product
"Initially, when we first heard about the Train Jam, we were going on it, I was thinking, 'Oh my god, we'll get no sleep,'" says John Beech. "It's going to be like hell on earth. There's going to be loads of sweaty developers and we're going to wish we were dead. But actually, it's been one of the best experiences ever. Traveling across America and meeting all the interesting people and seeing what game they've made — It reminds me of how much I love making games."
1:40 p.m.
"I've enjoyed a relaxing train ride," says Zach Johnson. "There wasn't much pressure to make a game."
Johnson, seated with Jerry Belich, has made good progress on their line simulator game. The FMV game the two originally set out to create with a bigger team didn't make it. At least, not on this train ride.
"I like the idea," Belich says. "I think an FMV game is very going to happen. ... We're missing some key components that would have been really nice to have, and all independently, accidentally started other games and really wanted to actually have time to relax and not turn this into a high-pressure insanity garden."
Belich says his goal at the end of the jam is to find something he wants to keep working on. That, coupled with other ideas to build, is a win.
"There is a happy medium of working and collaborating and taking it easy," Belich says. "That's really nice. That's a nice place to be."
By now, the jam is winding down. We're told to start packing up at 2:30 p.m. for a 3:30 p.m. arrival in Emeryville. Throughout the train, you can hear proud snippets of conversation: "Our game works." "I made a game." "We did it."
3:37 p.m.
"Hi!" booms Adriel Wallick.
"Hi!" roars back a crowd of mostly tired, mostly unshowered developers.
Wallick stands on the armrests of a chair in the middle of Emeryville's train station. Outside it's gray and raining, but people are in good spirits, laughing and talking excitedly. She briefly apologizes to the bewildered people in the station who were not Train Jam participants as everyone floods in. We're a boisterous, very wet mob.
A selfie snap of the Train Jam group in Emeryville. Photo via Robin Baumgarten.In just a few minutes, representatives of each group will stand in front of the crowd and briefly describe the game they made. Everyone will clap and cheer as a photographer ducks in and out, snapping photos. Completed games will be showcased at GDC in the Moscone West Hall for anyone to come and play.
But first, Rami Ismail hands off the Dave's Depot souvenir he bought yesterday. Wallick, still perched on the armchair, holds it to her mouth and fills the air with one last whistle.
Photos by Megan Farokhmanesh, Robin Baumgarten and Izzy Gramp.
Correction: An earlier version of this story mispelled Laurens de Gier's name.