Play Sparks Creative Growth

JP de la Rama
Jul 6
3 min read

What Cuphead, Deadlines, and Fatherhood Taught Me About Crafting Worlds

When you show them what's cool and ends up being cute!

“Sometimes the best art advice doesn’t come from a tutorial—it comes from your kid launching a Toy at your face while Cuphead plays in the background.”

Setting the Stage

It’s one of those weeks again.

Deadlines overlap. Studio calls pile up. Files are exporting in the background while I’m microwaving lunch and trying to keep my daughter from launching my Toy collection off the shelf.

It’s a beautiful mess.

Balancing work and family is a recurring theme in my life. Sometimes I blur the lines between them—and it’s actually kind of fun. Especially when you love what you do.

I get to animate, illustrate, and breathe life into characters and worlds for a living. It may not be glamorous to others (a random tito once told me it sounded boring), but to me—it’s ecstasy.

There’s nothing quite like turning lines and colors into emotion, motion, and magic.

But this week, something deeper clicked. And it started with a game.

Cuphead, Chaos, and Clarity

While juggling babysitting duty and animating assets for a new project, I took a quick mental break and picked up The Art of Cuphead.

You know—the game with 1940s cartoon chaos and Dark Souls level difficulty that’s both visually charming and brutally unforgiving.

Me and my daughter had played it once before. (Pro tip: don’t play Cuphead with a 5-year-old unless you want to question all your life choices.)

But beyond the gameplay, I found myself studying the animation choices. Every brushstroke, every asset, every movement was deliberate.

From enemy designs to background loops, everything had a purpose.

The cohesiveness, the hand-drawn energy, the clear artistic direction—it wasn’t just style. It was storytelling.

This hit me while working on an NDA project where I collaborate with other art directors across different studios.

I realized how different it is when a game’s visuals are built with intention versus when it’s just a mashup of “good enough” assets.

Some games feel like asset-flipped soup, while others (like Cuphead) are visual symphonies.

That’s when it clicked. Every design choice should feel like it belongs to the world you’re building.

Bringing That Discipline Into Personal Projects

I had a flashback to my Master’s degree studies at the Academy of Art University.

We were taught that even the most minor design decisions—colors, shapes, gestures—should have meaning. Not just because it looks cool, but because it supports the story.

That training? It’s finally paying off in real-world applications.

It’s also guiding my own IP project Zamora, which I envision as more than just a graphic novel. It’s a layered storyworld that, someday, I want to expand into a Metroidvania-style video game—one with immersive sim mechanics and meaningful exploration.

And now I know I can build it. Slowly, piece by piece.

This current studio work is sharpening my instincts, teaching me how to build assets with purpose, how to collaborate under pressure, and how to design worlds that feel alive.

So whether I’m animating a boss fight, sketching a page, or dodging toddler attacks in the living room—I know one thing for sure:

Every pixel matters. Every frame tells a story.

Tips for Fellow Artists

Let play inspire your process. Breaks aren’t just rest—they’re input. New ideas need new stimuli.

Study your favorite games deeply. Don’t just admire the art. Reverse engineer the choices.

Build with purpose. Ask yourself: Does this visual element serve the story, the emotion, or the experience?

Blend life and work (when you can). You might find your best ideas while babysitting or dancing.

Final Thoughts

If you’re grinding through NDA work, juggling personal projects, and still dreaming big—keep going. You’re not alone.

Somewhere between Cuphead levels, messy deadlines, and bedtime stories, there’s a universe being built by you. And someone—someday—will thank you for it.