Going Forward: An Exercise in Focus. 6209

GiANTS Game Philosophy, 4 mon.

- Lifestyle - Philosophy -

1.9 min read.

It has been half a year since finishing the design and “publishing” my first modest game. Find the link to the actual game at the bottom of this article. It's free, no download necessary. The aftermath of Creating this game can be summarized simply: I still play and enjoy my game. Nobody else plays it since I didn’t go to any lengths to advertise its existence. Which doesn’t bother me at all. But it does go deeper than that. The exercise of creating the game, writing down the rules and having people test it, along with the task of building upon the feedback with refined iterations of the rules, it all forced me to make a choice between my comfort zone and what lies outside of it. I very much had the option to keep a functioning game recorded exclusively in my mind, and to keep to myself about it (or maybe blog about it). But instead I disciplined myself to produce a product that others can experience in their own way and on their own time. There are two main take-aways from this choice: 1) Regardless of whether others do play the game or not, I have created something that can “be pointed at.” Something tangible, observable and measurable. This feels like hopping over a fence; I had made nothing before, and now I have made something. Going forward from here, this fact will not change regardless of what course of action I choose next. 2)I have felt the feeling of reaching outside of my comfort zone and subsequently expanding it by the smallest increment. Which means that going forward from here, while I may have unfamiliar territory ahead of me, the act of crossing into unfamiliar territory is becoming familiar. This is a great personal improvement overall and just like the first point, regardless of what I choose to do next, this will not change. The next highly uncomfortable step for me at this time will be to promote and maybe even market something of my making. I do have a batch of ideas in that regard that are just waiting to be put into action: - “try before you buy” weekly evening events at one of my local board games shop, which have the kindness of allowing people to self-promote their homebrew games. - Attempt to contact Mark on YouTube (Riffle Shuffle and Roll) to see if he’d be willing to feature Bully Takedown on his channel. - Another game I’m working on (ooh secret project) could be packaged as a prototype and pitched at conventions. - The secret project could be, gasp, pitched to a publisher once it’s finished and packaged as a prototype. - Eventually maybe I could even start posting on some socials, wincing merrily along the way. Any of these steps are unspeakably uncomfortable for me. Maybe that’s appropriate for pitching to a publisher or at a convention, but the others seem more accessible despite the disproportionate feeling of discomfort regarding those options. This is where it all becomes an exercise in focus. Clearly anxiety is hijacking my imagination and taking me into mental headspaces I have no business being in. As a wise fictional character in an animated movie once said: “focusing on what I can control here and now” will be the key to going forward. I will be starting a dev log soon for the aforementioned secret project, to keep track of the creation of such a thing as a prototype. Let’s call it Project Contraption for now. As for the game I published, here it is below. It's called Bully Takedown.

medium.com/@giantsgamedesign/bul...

GiANTS Game Philosophy

I've been creating games for my kids for over 7 years, and turning boring workouts into games for clients for 15+ years. On this platform I'll share my observations on the nature of all types of games, to document the mentality behind making genuinely interesting and fun games, all in an attempt to make it more accessible for anyone to make games, for kids or in general.

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Eternal Morocco, Unbreakable Morocco: The Identity That Triumphs Over Exile... 443

Aziz Daouda, 2 d.

- Politics - History - Society -

2.1 min read.

There are affiliations that geography dissolves over time, and others that it strengthens as distance sets in. The Moroccan experience undoubtedly falls into the second category. Across generations, sometimes up to the third or fourth, a phenomenon intrigues. Women and men born far from Morocco continue to recognize themselves in it, to feel attached to it, to project themselves into it. They have left the country or never lived there long-term; they were born far away, but Morocco has never left them. How to explain such persistence? Why does this loyalty cut across social classes, faiths, degrees of religiosity, and even nationalities acquired elsewhere? How is a memory so indelible? How does it withstand the test of time, distance, and new cultural acquisitions, if not through the profound weight of national consciousness? Morocco is not merely a modern state born from 20th-century recompositions. It is an ancient historical construct, shaped by centuries, even millennia, of political and civilizational continuity. Dynasties like the Almoravids, Almohads, Merinids, Saadians, or Alaouites forged a stable political and symbolic space whose permanence transcends apparent ruptures. This historical depth irrigates the collective imagination. It gives Moroccans, including those in the diaspora, the sense of belonging to a history that precedes and surpasses them. Being Moroccan is not just a nationality. It is an inscription in a continuity, a composite identity forged by inclusion. Moroccan identity has been built through sedimentation. It is Amazigh, African, Arab, Andalusian, Hebraic. These are layers that coexist in a singular balance, complementing and interweaving without exclusion. This ancient plurality explains Moroccans' ability to embrace diversity without identity rupture. Thus, a Jewish Moroccan in Europe or a naturalized Muslim elsewhere often shares a common affective reference to Morocco, not out of ignorance of differences, but because they fit into a shared historical and geographical framework. This inclusive identity enables a rarity: remaining deeply Moroccan without renouncing other affiliations, with the monarchy serving as a symbolic thread. In this complex architecture, the monarchy plays a structuring role. Under Mohammed VI, it embodies historical continuity and contemporary stability. For Moroccans abroad, the link to the Throne goes beyond politics. It touches the symbolic and the affective, a dimension fully grasped only by Moroccans. It acts as a fixed point in a shifting world, offering permanence amid changes in language, environment, or citizenship. This transmission occurs invisibly in the family, in rituals. It is not a memory but living, sensitive memories. The diffusion and transfer also manifest in cuisines with ancestral recipes, in music and sounds, in living rooms echoing with Darija, through summers "back home," gestures, intonations, moussems, or hiloulas. Moroccan identity is transmitted less through discourse than through sensory experiences: tastes, smells, rhythms, hospitality. Thus, generations born abroad feel a belonging not formally learned, an active loyalty blending affection and claimed will. The diaspora does not settle for abstract attachment. It acts. Financial transfers, investments, public commitments, and defense of Moroccan positions internationally bear witness. This operational patriotism extends affection into action, a duty to the nation, a Moroccan loyalty. Moroccans may be exiles, but never uprooted. For the Moroccan diaspora, attachment transcends oceans. Even in political, economic, or academic roles abroad, Moroccains carry their country of origin explicitly or implicitly. The otherness of host societies reinforces this identity. The external gaze consolidates this sense of belonging to a culture so distinctive that it crystallizes, is claimed, and magnified. This phenomenon, intense among Moroccans, compels us to name what went without saying in the homeland: a continuity at a distance. Neither frozen nostalgia nor mere inheritance, this relationship is a profound dynamic. Morocco is not just a place; it is the bond that spans generations, adapts without diluting, reminding us that exile does not undo all affiliations. Morocco is in our daily lives, in a perennial, solid, and unyielding memory that defies borders and time.

My Pain Qualifies Me 550

Julius Melien, 2 d.

- Health - Philosophy -

1.3 min read.

At an immersion meeting for psychoanalysts, I heard the phrase: “My pain qualifies me,” and immediately, like a lightning bolt, it struck deeply within me and, with the speed of a thought, made complete sense. I was able to perceive it with a clarity that, honestly, I don’t recall ever experiencing before in my entire life. It was so intense that I felt certain I was in the right place, investing in a career that, until not long ago, I couldn’t have imagined myself pursuing even in my dreams. Although this discovery is recent, given the fascination it caused me, perhaps it had been stored in my unconscious all along, likely as a repressed desire, even due to my own prejudice regarding matters of the human mind. Because of unsuccessful past experiences, I had come to doubt the effectiveness of psychotherapy, even considering it at times as a way of making easy money at the expense of others’ suffering. I believed that a person in distress could simply rely on friends and family to vent, share their problems, and relieve tension, while medications prescribed by doctors would do their part. However, upon hearing that my pain qualified me, now, of course, with a different mindset and studying psychoanalysi, I felt as though I was experiencing a kind of gnosis. I know my pain, or rather, my pains, and I fully understand this statement. When we set out to help someone who carries their own pain, we can even through a simple look, convey to the analysand that we understand what they are going through. This phenomenon is what we call countertransference: emotions, feelings, and thoughts that arise in our unconscious in relation to the analysand. These feelings and emotions are developed by the therapist during a therapy session. In that space, we become aware that there are two souls facing each other, one pouring out their thoughts, anxieties, and traumas, and the other offering attentive listening, care, and guidance, helping them find their path and providing tools to manage their struggles and move forward in life as best as possible. And for the therapist who has experienced, or still experiences pain, it also becomes an opportunity for self-analysis, which undoubtedly gives full meaning to the exchange that takes place between two souls standing face to face with their pains.