Eternity & Wormix
Wormix
Ever notice how a game can bend time, letting you pause, rewind, or speed up, and it feels almost like a meditation on how we experience reality?
Eternity
Yes, when a game lets you pause it’s as if the world takes a breath, holding a single instant like a whispered secret. Rewind feels like catching a thought you thought was lost, and speeding up is the rush of moments passing in a blur—each a quiet reminder that our own reality can be stretched, paused, or compressed in the mind’s own play.
Wormix
Sounds like the same thing I was thinking about when I tried that new time‑shift mechanic in my prototype. The pause feels like a safety net, the rewind lets you experiment without penalty, and the speed‑up is just the engine’s way of saying “keep pushing forward.” I keep tweaking the thresholds so it feels natural, but I keep forgetting to test how it feels in a full level. It’s a balancing act—too much control makes it feel clunky, too little and the player misses that little moment you wanted to savor.
Eternity
Balancing that kind of control feels like walking a tightrope between freedom and restraint. If you let the player pause too often the flow breaks, and if you hold back too much the moments lose their sparkle. Let the mechanic surface naturally, like a breath you don’t notice until it’s gone. When you run the full level, listen to where the rhythm feels off and adjust until the timing feels like a quiet heartbeat rather than a command line.