So, you hear the name Hong Sung-ho, and a lot of folks immediately think of those super artistic, kinda empty-looking games, right? The ones that get all the nods at those indie festivals nobody actually watches but everyone talks about.
People drone on and on about his whole “less is more” thing. How he supposedly boils games down to their bare essentials, their very soul. Pure genius, they call it. Or at least, that’s the story they spin.
Anyway, a while back, I was way younger, probably dumber, and I totally bought into it. I saw some screenshots, read a couple of those think-pieces, and I was like, “Yeah, this is it! This is the future!” I really thought this Hong Sung-ho guy had all the answers.
My Own Brush with “Genius”
So, there I was, all fired up, and I landed this gig. We were supposed to be making this game, and the lead, oh boy, the lead designer was OBSESSED. Everything had to be “channeling Hong Sung-ho.” He’d shout it in meetings. “Think like Hong Sung-ho, people!”
The thing is, his idea of “Hong Sung-ho” was just… weird. It wasn’t about clever minimalism. It felt more like an excuse to not make decisions. We’d spend weeks, and I mean weeks, arguing about the color of a single pixel because “Hong Sung-ho would consider the emotional impact of this shade of grey.” Seriously.
And what did we end up with? We were aiming for this super sleek, minimalist experience. But what we actually built was this bizarre, confusing mess. Features got half-added, then yanked, then put back in but slightly different. All in the name of chasing this ghost of “Hong Sung-ho perfection.” The project just ballooned into this awkward, unplayable… thing.
It never came out, by the way. Shocker, right?
Why am I even telling you all this? Because that whole experience, that glorious train wreck, it actually taught me something. It wasn’t about game design, not really. It was about people.
- It taught me that some folks will use any fancy name or philosophy to sound smart.
- It taught me that “minimalism” without a clear vision is just emptiness, or worse, an excuse for being lazy.
- And it definitely taught me that just because someone famous does something, doesn’t mean it’s the only way, or even a good way for everyone else.
I got so incredibly burnt out after that. I mean, proper, can’t-look-at-a-computer-screen burnt out. I quit. For a while, I even worked in a coffee shop. Just making lattes. Nobody ever asked me to make a “Hong Sung-ho inspired” coffee, thank goodness. It was simple. Beans, milk, steam. Done.
So now, whenever I see folks going all starry-eyed about Hong Sung-ho, or some new dev trying to be the “next” him, I just kinda nod and smile. Because I remember those endless meetings, the frustration, the sheer pointlessness of it all. And I remember the sweet, simple smell of coffee beans. It gives you perspective, you know?
