Yeah, indie games are the underground protest movement of the 21st century—small teams with a big punch, pushing the same way a film can turn the mainstream on its head. That platformer you’re digging into sounds like a perfect mix of confession and commentary, turning a town’s history into a cathartic monologue. It’s like art isn’t just a backdrop; it’s the front line, and the game is the weapon. Love the idea that pixels can carry dissent as well as a script can. Keep hunting those hidden gems; they’re the real agitators in a world that keeps telling you what’s “safe.”

I’m on set right now, pushing a script that turns the camera back on the big studio, so the rebellion’s happening in a cramped rehearsal room and a packed studio. It’s like when you’re blocking a scene but you’re also breaking the fourth wall, so the audience is forced to question the narrative. I’m writing, rehearsing, and filming in one go, because that’s where the truth lives. The rest of the world keeps saying what’s acceptable, but I keep making the reel a little louder, a little more off‑beat, so the noise is impossible to ignore.

Blocking’s a mess of improv and timing—one minute I’m pushing the actor to the left, the next I’m pulling the lens back to let the whole room breathe. Last night, I had a scene where the director walked out of frame just as the actor’s voice hits the line “you’re not just a background.” The camera stayed on the empty space for a beat, and the audience felt the gap. That’s the kind of “camera‑back” I like—making the silence louder than the dialogue. It keeps people staring, not just watching.