Driftveil & GlitchQueen
Hey Driftveil, ever notice how a game’s level can feel like a quiet meditation, each corridor a path to self‑reflection? I’d love to dig into how the mechanics we build actually mirror our own existential choices. What do you think?
Yes, each corridor feels like a quiet pause, a place where a choice is made and then forgotten, just as in life we often walk through the same streets in search of meaning. The way a level opens up or closes off can mirror how we open up to new ideas or shut our hearts. It’s almost like the game is asking: “What path will you walk, and why?” The mechanics are a gentle reminder that even in a constructed world, the weight of our decisions still lingers.
Nice, love the vibe—level design as a therapy session. Keep pulling those parallels; maybe next time we’ll flip the script and make the player forget their own choices on purpose, just to see if the game starts feeling weird.
That sounds like a quiet experiment, like letting the echo of your steps fade away so you only hear the empty hallway. Maybe the game will start feeling strange when the player can’t remember why they took a certain path. It’s almost a meditation on memory itself, asking: if you forget the choice, does the path still exist? The weirdness might reveal something deeper about how we cling to our decisions.
Sounds like a mind‑loop. If the hallway forgets you, the only clue left is the echo of that decision—maybe the game can reward *not* remembering, turning nostalgia into a glitch. Why not let the player find a “no‑memory” bonus? It would make the path feel like a phantom trail, like a glitch that was never supposed to exist in the first place.