Introduction: A creator’s life on the water
On Gooise Meren in the Netherlands, a remarkable story unfolds not in a traditional studio, but on a swaying canvas of wood and water. Lente Cuenen, a game writer and designer, found that the very rhythm of the boat’s motion shaped her work as much as any software tool or storyboard. The idea that a game could emerge from the creak of hull boards and the sway of the tide is not merely poetic; it’s practical. When you live and work on a boat, every decision — from where to store prototype cards to how to power your laptop during a gust — becomes part of the creative process.
The setting: a compact studio over the water
Cuenen’s home is a compact space that doubles as a studio. At one end lies her bed, a couch, and a small television; at the other, a toilet cubicle, a kitchen, her workstation, and a table where design ideas are sketched in moments of quiet. The boat’s confined layout forces a discipline that few land-based studios demand. Accessibility to tools is optimized: a laptop, a few controllers, and a notebook tucked into a shelf where the sea’s pulse becomes a metronome. The constant motion invites a mindset shift — problem-solving becomes a matter of adapting to flux rather than fighting it.
From tide to gameplay: where ideas set sail
“The game she wrote on a boat kept her afloat” isn’t just a headline; it’s a lived experience. Cuenen has learned to translate the sea’s unpredictability into gameplay mechanics. Navigation becomes a metaphor for player choice, with wind shifts mirroring branching paths, and little daily routines morphing into level design. The boat’s micro-environment prompts rapid iteration: a prototype might be drawn on a napkin one afternoon and then tested the next morning with real, moving constraints. This approach yields a product that is not only fun but also honest about imperfect conditions — a game designed with the ocean’s temperament in mind.
Design constraints as creative fuel
Living on a boat imposes constraints that spark invention. Limited space means every asset must have a clear purpose; fewer screens encourage tactile interaction and sound design to carry information. The waterline becomes a visual cue in the game’s UI, while the boat’s passage influences pacing. These realities push Cuenen to embrace minimalism while preserving richness of experience. By turning limits into features, she crafts game experiences that feel intimate and tactile, a contrast to sprawling, multi-platform productions.
Community and collaboration on the water
Community plays a crucial role in sustaining a boat-based studio. Neighboring houseboats offer feedback, while local meetups provide opportunities to test mechanics with a diverse audience. The Dutch waterways foster a sense of shared space where ideas drift between boats, coffee breaks, and a quick playtest. Collaboration becomes a form of navigation, with fellow creators plotting routes together and sharing learnings about playtesting, accessibility, and storytelling on constrained hardware.
What the future holds for a boatbound designer
As the seasons change, so does the work. The rhythm of the water shapes the studio’s routine, but it also amplifies ambition. Cuenen envisions expanding her portfolio to include narrative-driven experiences that honor the cadence of the boat’s life — stories where interface design, environmental storytelling, and character arcs ride the same tide as the hull. Her path suggests a broader trend: talented creators who choose to anchor their work in non-traditional spaces, proving that creativity can thrive wherever conditions allow focus, curiosity, and resilience.
Conclusion: afloat in creativity
The image of a game designer living on a boat may seem unconventional, but it captures a truth about modern creative work: constraints can become catalysts, and atmosphere can shape art. Lente Cuenen’s story is a reminder that the best ideas often arise not in a controlled studio, but in the unpredictable, wind-scented air of the water. The game she wrote on a boat didn’t merely exist on a shelf; it learned to swim, propelled by tides, and kept its creator afloat in the process.
