Do we really need 'perfect' games? 5 forgotten experiments that changed how I see digital loneliness

I used to think gaming was about lights—neon reels, jackpot chimes, the thrill of the pull.

But in my studio apartment in Brooklyn, where my mother’s hip-hop beats echoed through the walls and my father’s Nordic silence sat like frost on the windows, I began to ask: What if these ‘perfect’ games were never meant for us at all?

I built my first experimental prototype in Unity—a slot machine disguised as a meditative ritual. No stars. No free spins. Just RNGs humming in the dark, calculating our worth while we scroll.

The ‘Starlight Casino’ marketing promised euphoria. But its RTP of 96%? A mirage.

When you play high-volatility slots like ‘Star King’, you don’t win—you’re rehearsing a script written by shareholders who never asked if you wanted to feel anything.

I recorded five failed experiments:

1. ‘Neon Pathway’ (low volatility): Players called it ‘calm’. But after 27 minutes, their dopamine faded.
2. ‘Rainbow Star Adventure’ (free spin trap): The bonus was real—but only if you spent $300 first.
3. ‘Midnight Jackpot’ (progressive pool): The bigger your bet, the quieter it got.
4. ‘Wilds & Scatters’: Symbols didn’t replace others—they replaced you.
5. ‘Loyalty Program’: You collected points… to buy merch you didn’t want.

In every case, the system wasn’t broken—it was designed to make solitude feel like belonging.

I now design games that don’t promise joy—but let you sit with your silence until it becomes sacred again.

What game did you last play when no one was watching?