Chasing Emotional Impact Over Technical Perfection

There’s a moment during playtesting that no data point can measure: a player’s face lighting up in genuine surprise, laughter, or recognition.

When I started my career in film, perfection was the craft. Every frame polished, every shadow deliberate, every performance timed to the millisecond. We sculpted moments until they were untouchable, frozen in their most beautiful form. That control was intoxicating. But it also meant the audience could only ever watch.

Games changed that. Suddenly, players could touch the work — reshape it, pause it, ignore it, or find beauty in the cracks we didn’t plan. My relationship with polish had to evolve. I began to realize that the most powerful emotional moments often come from imperfection. The pause before a line triggers, the slightly off timing that creates humor or suspense, the animation that stutters just enough to feel human.

As I moved deeper into interactive storytelling, I stopped asking, “Is it perfect?” and started asking, “Does it make someone feel something?”

That shift changed everything about how I lead teams and think about technology. We still strive for excellence, of course, but now our definition includes humanity. The best experiences aren’t flawless; they’re alive.

The moment a player gasps, laughs, or tears up.. that’s when I know the work is finished. Not because it’s perfect, but because it connected.