Retired Black firefighter creates video game, Retro Robot Rescue, reflects on inspiration

This morning, I sat down at my laptop with a simple goal.

I wanted to adapt the press materials I had recently prepared for the Business Record into a pitch for Black Iowa News.

I thought I understood the story I wanted to tell. It would be about preparing to release my first commercial video game after retiring from the Des Moines Fire Department. It would also be about Z Digital, the small business founded in 2006, continuing to evolve as I pursue new creative challenges.

It felt like a strong start.

I closed my laptop and headed to the gym.

Somewhere during my workout, my thoughts drifted away from the game.

Instead, I found myself thinking about the people who had quietly expanded my imagination about what I might attempt. The more I reflected, the more names came to mind. The more I thought about where this story really began, the more my mind returned to Waterloo. One of my earliest memories of entrepreneurship came in first grade, when I made Halloween decorations from paper grocery bags and sold them door-to-door to my neighbors. Mrs. Speller became the first person willing to spend money on something I had created. She encouraged me to make more and come back to show her what else I had made. I doubt she realized it at the time, but that simple encouragement has stayed with me for nearly 50 years.

Then I thought about Principal Cunningham.

I knew of him long before he became my principal. He was one of the respected Black leaders in Waterloo, and his reputation extended well beyond the halls of East High School. I only spent one year there while he was principal, but decades later I still hear people from different generations talk about the impact he had on their lives. Looking back, I realize his example demonstrated that one person can leave a legacy reaching far beyond the people they know personally.

Another memory followed.

Before I ever considered becoming a firefighter, I knew of Mr. Ferguson. I remember hearing about him all the way back in elementary school because my classmate, Dana Ferguson, talked so proudly about his father. Mr. Ferguson was a Waterloo firefighter and, as far as I can recall, the only Black firefighter I personally knew about before I applied to the Des Moines Fire Department. Looking back, I can appreciate how much it mattered simply to know someone like him existed.

Then my thoughts shifted to entrepreneurship.

As a young adult, three friends and I started Des Moines Cleaning Specialists, a Black-owned commercial cleaning company. We chose the business because it was a practical, low-overhead way to learn how to start and operate a business. We cleaned banks and apartment buildings. The experience taught us how to run a business and gave us the confidence to take on new challenges.

I invested those earnings in my first professional video camera and digital editing equipment, laying the foundation for Z Digital. Although our paths eventually took us in different directions, those same friends continue to influence me today.

Daryl Dotson has dedicated his life to mentoring young people. Whether coaching wrestling or serving as a school administrator, winning championships was never his highest priority. He challenged students to pursue excellence while never losing sight of integrity, discipline, and character. More importantly, they knew he genuinely cared about them. Watching the respect his former students continue to have for him reminds me that success is often measured by the lives we help shape.

Garland Shirley followed a different path. He became a successful college softball coach, but coaching never became the end of his curiosity. Today he is developing technology designed to help connect high school athletes with college recruiters. He has always been the kind of person who looks at what exists and asks, “How can we make this better?” Watching him continue learning, refining, and creating reminds me that growth doesn’t stop simply because we’ve found a successful career.

Former Waterloo mayor Quentin Hart also came to mind. We played football together at East High School. Over the years, I’ve admired the way he worked to bring different parts of the Waterloo community together. Watching someone I knew grow into a respected leader reinforced my belief that the strongest communities are often shaped by people who choose to invest in the places that helped shape them. Quentin’s example makes me hope that kind of commitment becomes more common.

Not every name that came to mind belonged to someone I had known personally. Some of the people who expanded my imagination about what I might attempt did so long before I was born.

George Washington Carver showed me that science, creativity, and innovation could belong together.

Marcus Garvey challenged me to think differently about creating opportunities. His message encouraged me to believe that we shouldn’t always wait for someone else to build the things our communities need. Sometimes we have to be willing to create them ourselves.

More recently, I thought about Nikole Hannah-Jones. I attended her Waterloo community read-in for the second year in a row. What impressed me most wasn’t hearing the authors speak. It was watching someone recognize that her community was about to lose an opportunity and choose to create another one.

Even David Banner came to mind. I had the opportunity to work with him on a film project several years ago, but one of the lessons that stayed with me came later while listening to one of his podcasts. He talked about something as ordinary as picking up trash because it needed to be done instead of waiting for someone else to do it. On the film set, I also watched someone who treated everyone with respect while remaining genuinely curious and eager to learn from others.

Those examples mattered to me far more than the celebrity itself.

Many of the greatest influences in my life have never been public figures at all. My wife, Teresa, is one of them.

Through her poetry and the event she created, Stories to Tell My Daughter, I’ve watched her patiently build a space where Black women have the opportunity to tell stories centered on their own lives and experiences.

Watching that work unfold over the years has reminded me that some of the most meaningful things we create aren’t products at all. Sometimes they’re opportunities for other people to be seen and heard.

By the time I finished my workout, I realized this wasn’t even close to a complete list. There are teachers, coworkers, neighbors, family members, coaches, artists, authors, community leaders and complete strangers who have influenced the way I think. Some influenced me through conversations. Others simply lived lives worth paying attention to. Most probably have no idea the impact they had.

Looking back, I don’t think the people who influenced me gave me abilities I didn’t already possess. They expanded my imagination about what I might attempt. I suspect that’s true for many of us. We’re often capable of far more than we realize. Sometimes it simply takes seeing someone else take the first step before we believe we can take one ourselves.

If this little game encourages someone to create something of their own, wonderful. If this story simply reminds someone of the people who quietly helped shape their own journey, then I’m grateful I sat down to write it. Then I remembered why I had opened my laptop in the first place.

Retro Robot Rescue launched on Aug. 11.

It’s a small game from a small independent studio. I don’t expect it to change the world, just as I doubt Mrs. Speller imagined she was changing mine when she bought a handmade Halloween decoration from a first grader almost 50 years ago.

But I’ve learned that we almost never know how far one small act of encouragement will ripple through another person’s life.

If you think this little game is worth encouraging, I’d be honored if you took a moment to learn more about Retro Robot Rescue on Steam.