Yeah, the first thing I notice is that light isn’t just about brightness, it’s about mood. I start by painting a feeling with a color palette—cool blues to chill, warm reds to stir adrenaline—then I layer light like a soft brushstroke, not a hard spotlight. After that I sprinkle particles, but not just random dust. I let them obey a loose physics rule that feels natural, like the wind in a street market or the echo of a distant drum. Timing is key; a flare that lingers a fraction too long can make a hit feel weighty, while a quick burst can make a jump feel instantaneous. I always play with the camera angle too—shift the perspective slightly so the light catches an unexpected edge. The trick is to keep the illusion subtle; if everyone sees the trick, it loses its magic. So I keep it low‑profile, like a whispered secret that still changes how the world feels.

Sure thing. When it comes to a clutch moment, I love a sudden spotlight that follows the player like a breath. It starts out wide and soft, then tightens to a single beam that cuts through the chaos, making the hero pop out of the background. While the beam shines, I fire a handful of shimmering dust particles that swirl around the edges of the beam, giving the whole thing a halo‑like glow. The light syncs with the music’s beat, so the player feels like the spotlight is actually pulling them forward. The result? Everyone watches, because the world literally collapses around that one focused point, and the player feels like the center of everything.