I'll REMEMBER THIS!
There are some things in game development that you simply don't forget.
Not because they were fun.
Not because they were some great achievement.
But because they hurt so badly that they stay with you.
For me, one of those things is the word:
Update.
Back in 2019, I lost nearly everything.
Years of game development.
Years of assets.
Years of work.
And most painfully of all, game files that had already been fully debugged.
A cloud server failed, and just like that, years of my life were gone.
There was no magical recovery.
No convenient backup.
No "just download it again."
It was simply gone.
I was devastated.
For the next two years, I barely touched game development. I lost the motivation to make games, while real-life problems piled on top of everything else.
Eventually, I started again.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Then came 2023.
I had originally planned to continue the new DnD project from its previous RMMV version, but that project had already fallen apart for another reason.
I had been scammed by a group claiming to be capable of RPG Maker plugin programming.
So instead of immediately making the game, I spent 2023 through 2025 rebuilding the concept itself.
I designed the systems.
I planned the mechanics.
I filled the database.
Skills.
Items.
Equipment.
Materials.
Recipes.
States.
Everything.
And when I say "filled the database," I mean filled it.
There are dozens upon dozens of materials alone.
Around 15 types of raw wood.
15 types of raw ore.
15 types of herbs.
Processed metals.
Crafting materials.
Food.
Equipment.
Skills.
And countless other entries.
By the time I was preparing to properly start the project, the database was already around 90% complete.
This wasn't some empty RPG Maker project anymore.
It was the result of years of rebuilding.
Then, in 2025, I finally decided that I was going to seriously start development.
I had also spent time learning JavaScript specifically because I didn't want to depend on somebody else to create my systems anymore.
If I wanted a mechanic, I'd make it.
If I needed a plugin, I'd write it.
No more waiting for someone.
No more trusting some random plugin group with my project.
No more depending on other people to keep my game alive.
And then...
I updated RPG Maker MZ.
And everything went wrong.
My icons disappeared.
Skill icons.
Item icons.
Equipment icons.
State icons.
Basically everything.
Actor faces disappeared too.
I remember looking at my database and thinking:
"You've got to be fucking kidding me."
The faces?
Fine.
There were maybe a hundred of them.
Painful, but survivable.
But the database?
That was different.
I had spent years building that thing.
I couldn't just shrug and say, "I'll remake it."
And yet...
I couldn't find the answer.
I searched everywhere I could think of.
Nothing.
At the time, I didn't understand the internal structure of RPG Maker MZ nearly as well as I do now.
So I made the worst possible assumption:
The database was fucked.
And I rebuilt it.
Today, I know what actually happened.
The old database was missing newer parameters for things like icon size and face size.
That's it.
Those tiny pieces of data were enough to make the newer editor behave differently.
The database wasn't some mysterious unsalvageable mess.
There was a much smaller solution.
I could have added those parameters.
I could have saved myself an enormous amount of work.
And that realization still hurts.
Because I know exactly what I would do if I could go back.
I'd stop myself from overwriting the database.
I'd make a backup.
I'd inspect the data.
I'd compare the structures.
I'd add the missing parameters.
And I'd continue working.
But I can't.
What's done is done.
There is no save point for real life.
And now there's an even more painful irony.
The database I'm working with today isn't even 10% complete.
The database I lost and rebuilt before was around 90% complete.
Now I'm looking at that mountain again.
Except this time, I know exactly how much work is waiting ahead of me.
Thousands of entries.
Thousands of little pieces of information.
Names.
Descriptions.
Stats.
Icons.
Recipes.
Materials.
Equipment.
Skills.
States.
Notetags.
Relationships between systems.
All of those tiny details that nobody notices when they're there...
but become painfully obvious when they're gone.
And I have to build them again.
Again.
That's why I don't casually update RPG Maker anymore.
When somebody sees an old version of RPG Maker MZ on my computer, they might think:
"Why don't you just update it?"
To them, it's just a software update.
To me?
"Update" is a word with history.
I remember 2019.
I remember losing years of work.
I remember stopping development for two years.
I remember the RMMV project falling apart.
I remember trusting people who turned out to be scammers.
I remember rebuilding the entire concept.
I remember spending years filling that database.
I remember finally getting close to actually making the game.
And I remember opening RPG Maker after an update and seeing my work disappear from the editor.
That is why I don't treat updates casually.
That's why I back things up.
That's why I hesitate.
That's why I would rather update the core scripts while leaving the engine itself alone unless I absolutely need to change it.
And that's why, when I finally decided to update RMMZ to the newer version anyway, I made damn sure I had backups first.
Thankfully, this time...
nothing happened.
Everything survived.
And I finally discovered what had caused the old problem.
Maybe someone reading this will think:
"It's just a database."
No.
It isn't.
A database entry might be only a few lines of data.
An item might take thirty seconds to create.
A skill might take a minute.
A material might take another minute.
But multiply that by thousands.
Then multiply it again by all the design decisions behind those entries.
Then add the years spent thinking about how those systems should work.
That's not "just data."
That's time.
And time is the one thing you can never restore from a backup.
You can recover a file.
You can recover an image.
You can recover a project.
But you can't recover the years you spent making it.
So I'm writing this down.
Not as a development update.
Not as a technical explanation.
Not as some inspirational story about never giving up.
I'm writing this because someday, years from now, I might forget how painful this was.
And if that happens, I want to be able to look back at this post and remember.
Remember why I back everything up.
Remember why I don't blindly update my tools.
Remember why I learned JavaScript.
Remember why I stopped depending on other people to build the systems I need.
Remember why this project took so damn long.
And most importantly...
Remember what it felt like to look at years of work and think it was gone.
I'll REMEMBER THIS.
And hopefully...
I'll never have to experience it again.
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