The Game Prompts

Prompts by week…

1. - One more setting sun

*This one came at the worst—and most honest—possible time. My best friend had just died from pancreatic cancer. Loss was everywhere. Too much of it, honestly, for someone my age. As the people I love kept dropping like flies, the song became a plea: don’t let me be the last one standing. Don’t leave me alone with the memories.

2. - It’s hard being here and you being there

*And the grief continued. This song is for Rob Vonderbrink. Watching him suffer forced me to reopen a wound I never really dealt with—the death of my only brother in 1988. Cancer robs. It steals. It devastates. This song doesn’t try to fix that. It just sits with it.

3. - Thorns and roses

*One of my favorites. It just poured out. I would never normally write something like “Thorns and Roses,” but the prompt pushed me into unfamiliar territory—and for the first time, I wrote a character. A grifter type. Maybe by the seaside. Boardwalk energy. I’ve always written autobiographically; this was a new trick, and I liked it.

4. - Never seen that shade of blue

* “I didn’t mean to miss your birthday” had been floating around for years—chords and a few words waiting for a home. It’s not literally about forgetting a birthday. It’s about being a shithead in a relationship. A birthday just happens to be the worst possible symbol of that. The prompt helped me finally land the plane. Adding “on you” sealed the line “never seen that shade of blue.” This one’s just an apology—for falling short, for taking someone for granted, for being human.

5. - Woven in the fabric

*Lies and Truth. This one was written completely on the fly. Originally, the lyric lived in the outro:
“Forget about this notion of bravery / It’s woven in the fabric of your slavery…” The music and bridge stayed, but thanks to Eric Colvin and Michael James, the song got what it desperately needed—a hook. They were right. Collaboration wins.

6. - Dig Down Deep

*Low-hanging fruit. Words and music in under an hour. Sometimes that’s how it goes.

7. - Unexpected connections

*The prompt was “unexpected connections,” and my first instinct was painfully literal—almost boring. But it worked. The producers came up with a chorus I wasn’t sold on at first, but now I love it. The song had stalled until that moment. I leaned into a Hendrix / Third Stone from the Sun vibe with the octaves, and in the final version, the tone finally showed up the way I heard it in my head.

8. - Give me one good reason

*“Don’t Belong With You” lived in a drawer for years. I was embarrassed by how honest it was. Once we dusted it off and rebuilt the arrangement, I realized honesty beats comfort every time. My vocal producer, Rachael Schroeder, was surprised when I admitted I don’t really know who this song is about. I change. Which means it’s about me. “Give me one good reason” to stay pretty much says it all.

9 - The way the light danced through your window 10- When nature speaks

*“The way the light danced through your window.”
Immediately, I pictured a character—someone watching from the outside, a little unsettling, a little obsessive. I’d been circling this piece of music for a while, and the prompt finally gave it a direction. Creepy felt right.

10. - When nature speaks

*“When Nature Speaks.” After the last track, I instinctively went the opposite direction. This isn’t about mocking some gas-guzzling redneck who doesn’t care about the environment. It’s about hypocrisy—mine included. The character is probably what some people think of me when I ask where electricity comes from. I’ll leave it there.

11. - The days drag on and the weeks fly by

*“The days drag on and the weeks fly by” eventually became “A Man Ain’t a Man.” After my father died—suddenly, without warning—that phrase stuck with me. I wrote it down knowing it would become something someday. This was it. I didn’t really grow up until my dad passed. This song is that moment.

12 - Don’t even worry about it

*I honestly don’t even remember where “Don’t Even Worry About It” landed in this song—it got cut in pre-production. What remains is something simple and pretty. A quiet truth. I can count on you.

This record cost me twenty dollars, a little sleep, and a whole lot of honesty.

Worth every penny.

-ERIC JERARDI