Hello paleo pals! We are hard at work getting Dalton's Dinos ready for you to visit, but the doors aren't quite ready to open just yet. In the second edition of our devlogs, learn more about the origins of Terrible Lizards - where it came from and what inspired it.
You can expect a new entry every month or so, where we'll talk to our dev team and share insights, concepts, and other tidbits to satisfy your curiosity before Terrible Lizards launches soon™. Without any further ado, let's chat with John of JT Music about the origins of this toothy adventure.
(Also, have you wishlisted the game yet? Be sure to click that button so you don't miss our launch!)
Where did the idea for Terrible Lizards come from?
The idea for Terrible Lizards actually came together from two different directions.=
The first was simply that making a game had always been a dream of ours. At JT Music, we've spent over a decade creating songs inspired by video games, but we've also always looked for ways to branch out creatively. Whether it's our live event, documentaries, or other side projects, we enjoy building things that challenge us. A game was always at the top of that list, and as lifelong gamers, we felt it was the most exciting creative leap we could make.
From there, we started asking ourselves what kind of horror game we wanted to build. We loved the idea of taking something familiar and nostalgic, then twisting it into something unsettling. Roadside attractions along Route 66 felt like the perfect setting. They have this uniquely American charm that's equal parts fascinating and eerie, especially when you imagine one sitting alone in the middle of nowhere. Once we had that, the dinosaur theme came naturally. Jurassic Park was a huge part of our childhood, and dinosaurs capture that same sense of wonder that so many kids grow up with. They also gave us the opportunity to create monsters that feel familiar at first glance but become something much darker as the game unfolds.
The gameplay side actually came before the setting. As a first-time studio, we wanted to build around a strong, achievable foundation, and platforming was the obvious choice. Great platformers prove that you don't need dozens of mechanics to create a deep, rewarding experience. If the movement feels satisfying and the level design consistently poses interesting questions to the player, a simple toolset can go a long way. I've always loved the rhythm and flow state that platformers create, and we wanted to bring that feeling into horror. Too many horror games rely on slow movement, fetch quests, or simply walking from place to place. We wanted Terrible Lizards to feel fun every second you're holding the controller. By combining fluid first-person movement with tense chases and horror, we found something that felt fresh while still playing to our strengths as a team.
How did you decide on this genre (horror & platforming) and the first-person perspective? Was the game almost something else in its early stages?
Horror was always the natural fit for our first game. It's a genre we genuinely love, but it's also one our audience has embraced for years through JT Music. Some of our favorite projects have been horror-related, and that overlap gave us confidence that we could create something players would be excited to experience while still pushing ourselves creatively.
How we came upon first-person platforming stems from our desire for Terrible Lizards to be a game about movement and flow. The goal was to create that feeling where you're completely locked in, reacting instinctively to what's in front of you and stringing together jumps, climbs, swings, and wall runs without thinking about each individual input. First-person naturally amplifies that feeling because your focus is limited to what you can see right now. Every obstacle arrives in real time, and overcoming it feels more immediate and personal.
Ironically, that feeling reminds me of the classic 2D platformers I grew up with. Games like Donkey Kong Country on a 4:3 screen gave you very little time to react, so success came from finding a rhythm and trusting your instincts. That's the feeling I wanted to recreate, just in a modern first-person perspective. Games like Mirror's Edge and Dying Light proved that first-person movement could feel incredible, and we wanted to bring that same sense of momentum into a horror game.
Once we landed on that vision, we never really looked back. Terrible Lizards was always envisioned as a first-person horror platformer. The details evolved throughout development, but the game's core identity has remained the same since the beginning.
What is your process for game design? What do those early pre-production stages look like?
Because this was our first game, our process was probably less conventional than I'd recommend. We were learning how to make a game as we made one. I was constantly researching game direction, production, and level design while applying those ideas in real time with the team.
Looking back, I realized we accidentally built a prototype without ever calling it one. We started with only the core movement mechanics (running, jumping, sliding and swinging), and I built simple obstacle courses to see what felt fun. At the time, I thought I was learning how to use Unreal, but I was really validating the game itself. If those gray-box obstacle courses were fun without art, story, or polish, then we knew we had a foundation worth building on.
From there, those gameplay blockouts became the backbone of the project. Art, animation, audio, and every other discipline grew around the gameplay experience rather than the other way around.
Regarding pre-production, it's probably not exactly how we'd approach our next game, but it worked because the vision for Terrible Lizards never really changed.
What is your own personal goal for the project?
My personal goal for Terrible Lizards is pretty simple: I want it to be successful enough that we get to make another game.
For me, success isn't just about sales. It's about creating an experience that genuinely resonates with people. If players connect with the world, the story, and the gameplay we've built, then we've done our job. Game development is one of the hardest things I've ever done professionally, but I love the process of creating worlds with a talented team.
If Terrible Lizards gives us the opportunity to keep doing that, whether it's a sequel or something completely new, I'll consider it a success. I just want to keep making games people enjoy.
Are there any challenges or setbacks you’ve had to overcome during development?
I don't think we had any major setbacks during development. The biggest challenge was simply that this was the first commercial game for almost everyone on the team, myself included.
The hardest part wasn't even making the game itself; it was learning how to make games while making one. Every discipline has its own workflow, and then you have to figure out how all of those workflows fit together. Programming, art, animation, audio, design... they all depend on each other. On top of that, I was learning how to manage a project at this scale for the first time. Figuring out how to organize people, prioritize work, and keep everything moving was easily the steepest learning curve.
Looking back, I think the biggest thing I underestimated was production. Once we found the right way to organize the team and the work, everything became dramatically more efficient. There were definitely growing pains getting to that point, but they're the kind of lessons you only really learn by doing. It's experience we'll carry into every game we make from here on out.
What makes for a good horror game? What elements do you believe are essential?
For me, great horror always comes back to two things: tension and dread. You don't need something frightening happening every second. Often, it's the anticipation that something might happen that makes horror so effective. The right environment, framing, or even a moment of silence can put players on edge before anything has happened.
Terrible Lizards approaches that a little differently than most horror games because movement is our core mechanic. Instead of making players feel vulnerable by slowing them down or giving them clunky controls, we ask them to survive through movement alone. You can't fight back; you run, climb, swing, and think your way out of danger.
Tonally, we're closer to Jurassic Park than psychological horror. We want players to feel tension and dread, but also excitement. The goal is for players to leave a chase feeling exhilarated as much as they feel relieved, and that balance is what we've tried to build throughout the game.
Early concept of the exhibits
How do you make platforming something that is easy to understand, but not frustrating for less experienced players?
One of our biggest goals was making the platforming approachable without taking away the satisfaction of getting good at it. We wanted someone who's relatively new to platformers to have a great time, while still giving experienced players enough room to push the mechanics and express their skill.
A lot of that comes down to two things: aerial control and mantling. Aerial control lets players adjust themselves in midair, which feels natural, especially for newer players. We've seen it over and over in playtests where someone instinctively tries to correct a jump, and the game lets them do it. At the same time, experienced players can use the same mechanic to optimize routes and chain movement. Mantling works the same way. If you're just short on a jump, it's forgiving. If you really know the movement system, it can open up shortcuts and let you string things together in ways newer players probably won't even notice.
The other piece is respecting the player's time. Checkpoints are fairly generous because once you've overcome a challenge, we'd rather keep the momentum going than ask you to replay the same section five times. The movement is where the satisfaction comes from. Skilled players can fly through the game because the mechanics feel good, while newer players can enjoy the adventure without constantly feeling punished.
Are there any assumptions about making games that you had going into development that have been challenged as you worked on the game?
The biggest thing that changed for me wasn't realizing how hard game development is. I expected it to be difficult. What surprised me was just how much everyone in this industry cares.
Before making a game, I'd worked in music, storytelling, production, and event management, so I had some appreciation for creative collaboration. But game development brings together so many disciplines that all have to succeed at the same time. Programming, art, animation, audio, writing, level design, production, every part depends on every other part. It's an incredibly collaborative medium.
What really stood out to me, though, was the people. I've met so many talented developers who genuinely care about what they're making and want to create something players will love. That passion is contagious, and it's given me an even deeper respect for the craft. It's also made me appreciate just how difficult it is to make games. When you see how many moving pieces have to come together and how deeply everyone is invested, you gain a whole new appreciation for every game that makes it across the finish line.
Is there anything personal, something from your own life or experiences, that has made it into the game? (Do you have any fond memories of roadside attractions?)
There are definitely many personal influences throughout Terrible Lizards. The setting is probably the most obvious one. I grew up in New England, and while I've never driven Route 66 itself, I spent a lot of time on road trips with my family. My parents loved taking Sunday drives, and we'd stumble across quirky roadside attractions, old advertisements lost in time, and places full of character. That feeling of nostalgic Americana stuck with me, and Route 66 felt like the perfect shorthand to capture it.
The other big influence is our relationship with mascot horror. Through JT Music, we've spent years writing songs about these games and watching the genre evolve. We genuinely love it, and it's been an important part of our creative journey. At the same time, spending so much time in the genre gave us ideas about where it could grow.
In many ways, Terrible Lizards is both a love letter to mascot horror and our own take on where it can go next. We wanted movement to be as engaging as the scares, so our chase sequences are built around skill and momentum rather than simply running down a hallway. We wanted the monsters to feel grounded in the world rather than exist purely as a horror gimmick. More than anything, we wanted to build a game that celebrates what we love about the genre while putting our own spin on it. That's probably the most personal part of the entire project.
What is your favourite horror game?
My favorite horror game is probably F.E.A.R. It was the first horror game that really pushed me out of my comfort zone. I was honestly a bit of a scaredy-cat growing up, but the gameplay was so good that I wanted to keep playing despite my fear. The shooting mechanics, the enemy AI, and the pacing were all fantastic, and then the horror would creep in through these brilliantly timed moments, like climbing down a ladder or walking through an otherwise ordinary hallway before Alma suddenly appeared. It taught me that a horror game could be genuinely fun to play while still being incredibly unsettling.
Another huge influence is the original Five Nights at Freddy's. I think it's one of the smartest pieces of horror game design ever made. The core mechanic is incredibly simple, but every decision forces you to trade safety for information. That constant tension is what makes it so effective. More recently, I've loved the modern Resident Evil games as well. They strike a great balance between action, exploration, and horror.
