It was late spring, 2006. The Dans and I were discussing the user interface for the United Sugpiaq Alutiiq game prototype: "We want it to look hand-carved, but not primitive. It should look tangible." The prototype's premise was unique not only from a design standpoint, but a philosophical standpoint as well. It was a game about the native peoples and traditions of Alaska, intended for the native peoples of Alaska. The target audience was, by definition, better-informed about the culture we'd been tasked to portray than we were.

Native American culture shows up in a lot of games. Some games just appropriate the trappings and import them into a fantastic setting for an "exotic" feel, like the Tauren race in World of Warcraft. Other games borrow genuine artifacts, people and history, but treat them as though they are a dead culture; something that belongs in a museum, as Indiana Jones is so fond of saying. The ethics of these practices is something beyond the scope of this column, and probably its author, but suffice it to say that these goals were not our goals. The scope of the United Sugpiaq Alutiiq prototype was to talk about a way of life - a culture - that was rapidly disappearing, and to make it appealing to the youth of that culture so they would be willing to learn more about it.

With that in mind, I set to work on the user interface for the crafting system in the game.

The early concept sketches for the UI were just rough shapes and colors. We wanted to evoke the feel of carved wood, ivory, shell and leather (all traditional materials), but first we had to deal with the confining shape of the computer screen. A big flat rectangle does not lend itself naturally to the soft, organic contours of handcrafts, so I crafted a bowl-like frame and embedded the UI elements into the polished cedarwood shape. For inspiration, I looked at traditional Suqpiaq artifacts, as well as galleries of modern traditional artists. All through the process, I ran back and forth to the Dans, soliciting feedback and giving recommendations, until we had something that looked and felt realistic but still obviously hand-drawn and hand-made.

Ultimately, I wanted the students who played the prototype to look at the art and think, "I could make that", or "My uncle carves things like this." I didn't want the art to look immaculate and perfect. After all, educational games are not meant to merely inform, but to inspire: to make even the most difficult goals seem immediate, accessible and attainable.