The Game Awards 2015 was broadcast last night and the highlight of the entire show had to be Nintendo's CEO, Reggie Fils-Aime, paying tribute to late Nintendo president Satoru Iwata. Touching, heartfelt, and the most genuine human emotion to come out of the awards show. It brought me back to the short piece I wrote about Iwata-san this past summer, available in its entirety below:

I came out of work late last night to sadly read the tragic news of ‪Nintendo ‬president Satoru Iwata's passing. Iwata-san, to those unfamiliar, was the "anti-CEO." While he wore business suits to meetings and answered often inane questions from shareholders, year after year, that's where the similarities end.

Beloved by gamers and game developers the world over, this was a man who started out as a simple game programmer, became a genius at his craft, advanced through the ranks to become the leader of a multinational, multi-billion dollar brand at a young age...and yet still wouldn't hesitate to jump back into game development to help teams meet deadlines, cut his pay in half so that his workers wouldn't be subjected to layoffs during the company's hardships, or simply put on a goofy hat and laugh throughout interviews...actions far removed from any leader of a powerful company. In fact, Game Center CX, a popular television program in Japan that subjects the host, Chief Arino, to playing incredibly difficult games, had a surprise visit from Iwata-san. Just in the first few minutes Iwata's humor and genuineness shine through, but watching the entirety of the interview shows a man deeply invested in the industry he holds dear and how much of a true gamer he really was.

During times of hardship, failure, and disappointment, it's natural for one to internalize negative emotions and devolve one's self worth. We think less of ourselves, stifle the positive while amplifying the negative, and often forget what we have gone through to be the people we are today...in other words, we lose focus of who we are and forget that "this too shall pass."

In recent days I forgot my sense of self and I let the pain and negative emotions brought upon by others throw me off my path, so to speak. This is okay, though. The movie Memento tells the story of an individual who can't remember the events of the day, much less the last few minutes. He desperately struggles to keep his memories through the use of sticky notes, pictures, and in extreme cases, self-inflicted tattoos. The movie is about many things, but I believe it illustrates one of my thoughts perfectly: "We all need mirrors to remind ourselves who we are, I'm no different." Sometimes those "mirrors" come in the form of individuals/external forces that bring pain, or fear, or sadness. And for a while, I let that consume me.

But then a curious chain of events took place that, whether you believe in coincidence, faith, happenstance, fate, etc., shook me just enough for the realization to hit that I needed to get back on my path and move on confidently in my journey, head held high. First, I came across these beautiful words of advice:

Then, I received a text from an old friend, literally out of the blue. Not an acquaintance, not a family member, not an old flame, nothing at all of any baggage or ownership. A genuine friend who I had lost touch with. It simply said:

I responded and we carried on as if not a minute had passed. Next, a day later on my nightly run, I was hit with a wave of emotion and thoughts as I remembered a conversation I had with my sister 2 months prior regarding my niece, Ava. My sister and I never really had a relationship you could describe as "close," and up until that point, we never discussed anything of real importance, mostly small-talk. However she surprised me with a phone call and a request: if both her and her husband were to pass, would I take up the responsibility of being the sole guardian of Ava?

I accepted without hesitation of course, but I simply had to ask "why me?" Her husband comes from a large family of endless brothers and sisters, and...well, I just never thought I was seen in that way, of that much importance. My sister just replied "we both felt you were someone she could look up to. You're loving, generous yet frugal, fair, and we honestly couldn't see anyone else taking care of her but you."

I sat down on the curb as the memories of that conversation flooded my mind, and for yet another day, I was reassured that yes, somehow, I was wanted...needed in certain respects.

Today, an old student of mine who has since graduated, struck me with this last line of our email exchange:

I couldn't have asked for a more perfect chain of events to magically fall into place, one after another, to remind me to stop chasing the wrong things, to learn from the people who have hurt me, to simply embrace the failures of my past. It was the beautiful reminder of what I have been through to be where I am today, to be the person I am.

We all fall down, and we all meet individuals that make us feel low or unwanted...but there's just as many people, probably many more, that want you for you, and nothing more. And that's something that's worth its weight in gold and can't simply be forgotten. So accept your defeats, let life shake you up, allow yourself the opportunity to heal your wounds, and keep pressing forward...forward unto dawn.

Its been a little over a month and a half since the passing of my beloved cousin. I saw myself in him, and in many ways, our lives often mirrored one another's. We were close in many ways...and I suppose that's what made this whole experience surreal and difficult the past few weeks. The following are dedications and thoughts to my cousin Larry Perez, an adventurous, loving soul.

I came out of my cousin's room and into the hallway after his passing yesterday afternoon. I walked toward the faint light emanating from the outside at the end of the hallway, only to be greeted by the gentle rain and it's quiet drumming minutes later. I took this screenshot of the lone weather cloud hovering over the area my cousin was staying...I won't be able to do anything but smile when the rain comes again.

We were two sailors lost at sea, you and I, navigating the tumultuous waters of the unknown. While I struggled with my anchors and fumbled with my sail and cursed the stars of navigation, you stayed calm throughout the storms, adjusting the sail to suit the winds, making sure the anchors of the past didn't hold you back. I wanted to catch up to you, to understand, to learn more about your journey. Your humble boat took many beatings, yet you still managed to rely on the stars to carry you home. Before I knew it you were lost to the sunset, finding your way back to the captain and his lovely lady, leaving me alone to desperately chart the rest of my journey.

I was a lone sailor lost at sea, aimlessly mapping out the rest of my voyage. But I'll look to the stars with confidence next time, and I'll mind the winds a bit more carefully, and I'll brave the storms without cowardice because you always believed in the voyages of others. We all will disappear into that eventual sunset, but only those with a beautiful spirit and a loving touch get to number amongst the stars. 

Rest in Peace, Larry.

These are the words that most of us have come to know very well, carrying them around since we were children. An age-old lesson handed down generation after generation that we have learned in one way or another, probably at our most personal level even, how haunting they would later turn out to be.

Over the weekend, “Fez” creator and indie-game icon Phil Fish took part in a heated, public spat with GameTrailers host Marcus “Annoyed Gamer” Beer via Twitter, responding not-in-kind to Beer’s accusations lobbied at Fish. Fish, outspoken about the gaming industry and Microsoft’s indie development policies in particular, refused Beer’s request to comment on the technology giant’s recent 180-turn on its own policies, allowing indies to now self-publish and offering much more support to the indie development scene than in the past.

“I wasn’t snubbing journalist [sic]. I was waiting for the actual news to come out,” Fish tweeted via his official Twitter account. It has since been locked for public viewing, but screenshots have been saved and uploaded to various sites online documenting the feud.

On the GameTrailers show, “Invisible Walls,” Beer called the indie developer a list of insulting, derogatory names, ending with a demand to the industry press to ignore Fish and his games.

Fish responded with the following post to his company’s, Polytron Corporation, site:

The indie icon would later go on to tweet that the cancellation of the recently announced sequel was not the result of any one incident (his public spat with Beer, in particular), but rather to “get out of games…because I choose not to put up with this abuse anymore.”

If we stop for a moment, what you have read and seen thus far may seem to be your typical dispute on the internet, comparable to a schoolyard fight between two boys, with one taking his toys away after he decided he had enough.

But the one telling thing in particular during the entire tirade was this tweet by Fish:

This is vulnerability. Vulnerability from a man who, for too long faced the constant vitriol of an industry that has grown from being one of refreshing creativity and wonder, to a an industry seemingly focused on hate and the worst of the human condition. I captured the actual comments of a typical Fez YouTube video below, to further illustrate my observation:

Fish is not without error, however, as he has been known to be incredibly outspoken, oftentimes rude, and on more than one occasion, put his foot in his mouth. Just look at the time when he said this, or did this, or even take a look at these winning moments working with Microsoft, and you can pretty much understand the passionate feelings revolving around the indie developer.

But Fish is passionate too, both for the industry he loves and for the game he spent over 5 years fighting to finish and get out to consumers. In fact, “Indie Game: The Movie” follows the likes of Fish, Jonathan Blow (creator of indie game and Metacritic-darling “Braid”), and several others in their arduous journey through strict corporate policies, grueling deadlines, bitter relationships, personal demons, and more to finish the games they seemed destined to create and release to the masses. Available to watch on Netflix, it is a documentary I high recommend, not only to obtain a better understanding of the video game industry, but to realize the scrutiny that can be placed on people’s labors of love.

The internet has made it easy for everyone from all walks of life to communicate in ways that were never possible before. How sad is it then, to watch as people use this power for harm rather than good, hiding behind computer screens, avatars, and usernames to throw stones and spew hate in an anonymous fashion.

The next time you are caught in a heated argument, or are incensed by another person’s point of view simply because it differs from your own, or even find yourself at a crossroads of attacking someone’s character to the possible benefit of your own, remember the power words can have. Words have meaning, they contain feeling, and can be used as a highly concentrated weapon that can cause an unshakeable hurt to the part of individuals no sticks or stones could hope to damage: the soul.

A sequel to one of the most critically-acclaimed games of 2012 is now cancelled. In its wake lay a myriad of comments and criticisms that will continue to fuel the fires of an industry doused with pessimism and hatred. Phil Fish entered the industry with a love for his craft and a vision; he now exits the industry defeated and without passion.

“You win,” he finally stated. But for the future of the industry and for anyone that has ever felt the pangs of hurt that words can bring, I really hope he’s wrong about that.

Well talk about a nostalgic surprise! While digging up old memories, archiving files, and updating my digital life, I stumbled upon an article I wrote about one of The Art Institute of Austin's students, Sean Simons, and his winning flatstock work of art at South by Southwest 2010 (SXSW). To my surprise, it's still alive and kicking on the main website. Without further ado...

Originally published - www.artinstitutes.edu.

Ai Austin Student and API Contest Winner Sean Simons: A Mobile “Flatstock Show and Rodeo!”


By Dustin Villarreal - Flatstock. Honored and respected by passionate movements of people but often misunderstood and unappreciated by others, Flatstock is the long-standing tradition, preservation and culture of poster art, all with a history stemming from the music and design movements of the 1960s.

The Art Institute of Austin student Sean Simons knew little about that going in, yet gained so much more coming out as the grand prize winner of the American Poster Institute’s (API) Great Texas Rock Poster Contest at South by Southwest (SXSW).

“I actually didn’t really know much about it; I went to maybe one or two FLATSTOCK shows at past SXSW events but this was my first time to have my work displayed and actually participate in the Flatstock art community,” Simons said. “They were really supportive and accepted me as one of their own. I ended up learning a lot about Flatstock and making great connections.”

Simons’ winning flatstock made a grand entrance at FLATSTOCK 24, the annual premiere Flatstock exhibition show at SXSW, and remained on display during SXSW from March 18-20th. Simons, a natural born art student whose blog contains many of his other works of art, enjoys painting and other fine arts both in the low and high-brow cultures. But when it comes to those labels, Simons’ believes that there’s room for everyone in the art community.

“I enjoy both low and high-brow art forms and think they can coexist; that we can learn from all types of art movements.” Simons said. “The problem isn’t in the labels; the problem is in the people that only look at the labels and don’t see things deeper for what they are.”

Simons isn’t the only one who believes in preserving and celebrating all art forms. The American Poster Institute (API) is a non-profit corporation dedicated to furthering public awareness and appreciation of the poster art form. It is committed to supporting the community of artists creating entertainment-related posters, to fostering interaction and communication between the artists, and to constantly improving standards in the field.

Ai Austin student Josh Robertson was also recognized by the API for his flatstock work, granting him runner-up status and a place on the group’s Flikr website. 

The FLATSTOCK shows provide attendees with an ongoing series of opportunities to see fine poster art in person and to meet the artists who've created it. While Flatstock continues to face an uphill battle in terms of recognition and acceptance, it’s comforting to know that there are still artists such as Ai Austin’s own Simons and Robertson who have transcended past art labels and into producing art for the greater good. 

Congratulations Sean Simons and Josh Robertson!