“Starting a new games magazine in that environment, which was deliberately not online in any way, seemed like a futile exercise that was doomed to fail,” he says. “I wanted to embrace that and communicate something that felt passionate but self-aware.

“Yes, games can be frivolous and silly. Yes, physical games magazines aren’t as viable anymore. And yes, games are profound and inspiring, and beautiful physical media about them should still exist.”

He posted his early zines to Destructoid, where they were featured on the front page, prompting a surge of attention and comments from people wanting to buy a copy. “It was the first time anything I had made had ‘caught on’ online, and while I had no aspirations to keep going with it, it made me think there might be an audience for this,” he says.

One year later, he canvassed the community for article ideas. Dozens submitted, giving him enough to create something bigger. Before long, it seemed like a gig that only Kickstarter could support.

Taking a leap

When formulating the first-ever major issue, Whistler says he didn’t think anyone was doing 100% advert-free, fully illustrated video games magazines, and it felt wrong to him, especially as someone who dabbled in — and at one time wanted to major in — illustration.

He explains: “I felt that by using illustration instead of screenshots, which are already abundant and better viewed on digital formats, I could lean into the strengths of print and show people stuff that was reimagining games they’re already familiar with, giving them a unique edge.”

With a strong MO and plenty of writers, A Profound Waste of Time first went to Kickstarter and became a smash hit, getting nearly 200% of its funding goal. However, the original asking amount was for a product significantly smaller than what Whistler ultimately delivered. He says: “It’s the sort of daft thing you do when you’re fresh out of uni with lots to prove.”

With Issue 1, he knows he was out of his depth. “I was a fresh graduate, and I’d never made a project on that scale before. When production delays kept happening, I felt immense pressure to deliver something even more amazing than I pitched, as if I had to blow people away, or I would never be able to work as a designer afterward.

“However, to be told in such a positive way that your ideas are valid and there is an audience out there for your work… It left a big impact on me for sure.”

It was also a valuable learning experience. The first edition of Issue 1 had a single significant spelling error that he and his proofreaders missed. “It was galling and difficult to realize that even when you triple-check something, mistakes can still creep through. It was an essential lesson in vigilance, but also a reminder of the inherent impossibility of chasing perfection. Sometimes mistakes still show up despite your best efforts.”

It took a year and a half to make the issue — a “real trial by fire” that required a long, post-launch break to recuperate, and one that saw him using APWOT as a proof of concept to get a decent job in the design industry, where he worked until he found the spark to return to the magazine and continue its journey.

Still, Issue 2 of APWOT presented an entirely different and even more immense challenge: after securing funding in December 2019, the pandemic hit. It caused massive delays for countless reasons: writers’ lives had turned upside down, the cost of production increased dramatically, post-Brexit rules came into effect, and the U.S. Postal Service became much more expensive.

“It nearly bankrupted the entire APWOT project, but thanks to the support of the audience in backing a reprint campaign, we were able to recover well,” Whistler says. “Thankfully, since the chaos of those first two issues, I’ve been able to release APWOT steadily on an annual basis since Issue 3’s campaign in late 2022, and I hope that can last a long time.”

A spring in his step

Each issue of A Profound Waste of Time begins with one crucial element: the cover story. “If we don’t have that, we don’t have an issue,” says Whistler. This anchor feature informs not only the theme of the issue, but also the broader Kickstarter campaign. From there, Whistler begins editing the Kickstarter video, lining up interviews and features, and — once the campaign is successful — commissioning the rest of the content.

The magazine is produced over a year, with articles and illustrations developed concurrently. Every piece goes through several rounds of editing and layout refinement before the final product is printed and shipped in the autumn.

The magazine’s art direction is deeply hands-on. “I’m constantly tweaking the layouts to get things to feel balanced,” says Whistler, who does all the design work solo. APWOT is known for its bold visual style, and Whistler emphasizes its intentionality. “I want to cram in as much as we can, because I make each issue as if it’s the last one ever. That maximalist energy is something I’m always reining in.”

While early zines relied on submissions, writers are now carefully selected to ensure variety and depth of content. A Profound Waste of Time doesn’t take open pitches, though “it’s not a hard and fast rule.” Instead, he prefers to work with a consistent roster.

The magazine also thrives on cross-disciplinary dialogue, which has led to a much broader appeal than initially predicted. “I want to show the humanity of the people who make the games we love,” Whistler continues. “I sometimes get nice letters saying ‘I have no interest in games, but I love your mags and it’s made me curious,’ which makes me so happy.”

Illustrators rarely work in isolation; as art director, he’s very prescriptive, even if it’s “always a conversation.” He kicks things off with sketches, then collaborates closely with artists to develop each spread. While longtime editor Simon Parkin now leads the editorial front, Whistler continues to contribute to content development and handles all visual design. “We do multiple passes between him and me for each article, and it’s incredibly fun and addictive,” he explains.

Finally, A Profound Waste of Time’s special editions continue to push the boundaries of making a great first impression. Issues have glowed in the dark, reacted to heat, or simply matched their cover story with delicate cuts. “There’s so much stuff you can do in physical media like print that you can’t do in pixels,” Whistler says. “I still have loads of ideas for what I want to do.”

An eye on the bottom line

One of the most significant problems for print publications — especially crowdfunded ones — is that both they and their audience often fail to account for creators paying themselves for their time and hard work. While Whistler himself overlooked this in the early stages of APWOT, going largely unpaid for his journal, he ensured that contributors were given their dues. However, he eventually allocated himself a wage for his work, even if it still requires subsidization from his freelance career.

He says: “I always put the project first because I want to deliver the best thing I possibly can for people, but I would love to get APWOT to the point one day where I can sustain myself and live off of APWOT alone, and give it my full focus.”

Kickstarter, too, remains Whistler’s preferred medium to raise cash, even if it has its drawbacks. “It’s genuinely changed my life and has only improved in recent times,” he says. “Crowdfunding websites are one of the best things to happen to the internet in the last 20 years, as they’ve made so many creative endeavors and projects possible.

“Still, having to maintain a constant stream of updates for your audience can be exhausting. You can spend so much time updating your audience that it takes away from working on the actual project they funded you for. This was true for the first two issues, but as I’ve proven myself to my audience, I’ve been much more relaxed about updates, and I feel a much healthier relationship with the platform because of that.”

An ultimate goal — but not one he plans to pursue soon — is to transition away from the crowdfunding model and have an audience that follows him to a bespoke platform, with a format similar to that of his friend and former mentor, Darren Wall, who runs the superb Volume.

Keeping things simple… for now

By adopting an annual approach to releases, Whistler believes that he isn’t asking too much of his audience. As much as he’d love to offer more, he says that building anticipation for each new issue is arguably more important.

“If A Profound Waste of Time were a monthly publication, people would grow overwhelmed quite quickly, but the fact that there’s currently only one APWOT issue per year makes each one feel like a true event, and I want there to be excitement around each new edition.”

Still, he has an existential ennui for the industry — to his credit, it’s something that brings most dyed-in-the-wool gamers down. “Hundreds of hard-working developers have been laid off while the AAA pipeline continues to balloon,” Whistler says. “You ultimately have to wonder whether an industry is worth celebrating in the first place if it can’t sustain the people who work within it.”

For now, A Profound Waste of Time scratches his itches, and it’s not going anywhere anytime soon. Whistler has ideas for expansions and new ventures, but right now, he’d rather expand his team, work with more people to improve his skills, and add even more quality to what he’s got.

“All publications have a lifespan, but I love making this work so much,” he adds. “It’s intensely rewarding and gratifying to get this amount of creative freedom on something you feel so passionate about.

“I want to keep APWOT going as long as I can. I feel like there’s still so much untapped potential with it. I’m going to keep doing my best to persist with it until I get a firm ‘no’ from the universe, which thankfully hasn’t happened yet.”

That said, some things never change for Whistler, including a hated foe ahead of Issue 5. “Shipping is awful, and I hate it.”