Composing gamesshort, sparse, and open to interpretation

Much of the piece is repetition: the same tasks, the same small failures, fixes that are never final. The interruptions feel welcome at first, then turn out to be part of the routine. And from inside the satellite you cannot tell what the distant alternative is - a station, another satellite, nothing at all. The game sits with that uncertainty rather than resolving it.

Built entirely from Bitsy's stock functionality, with the engine's limits used as material. Meaning accumulates through repetition, attention, and what you choose not to do - and how you respond to the drudge says something about you: persist, quit, search for escape, or outlast the system.

Three abstract vignettes, each using a different mode of interaction - moving, clicking, holding - to evoke a first step: departure, defiance, and return. The choices are subtle. You may not know you have made one, only that something feels different.

With no words and little visual detail, the question became how to carry story, identity and transformation in shape and motion alone: a playable haiku, deliberately underexplained, leaving the player to bring their own meaning. The visual language draws on Sophie Tauber-Arp and László Moholy-Nagy.

It works first as a digital toy: tilting, rolling, the small collisions, the rhythm of trying again. But the marble is fragile. Collide too hard and it cracks; let it be crushed and it shatters; the damage stays visible. That single rule turns the maze into a world that applies pressure, and the grade records not how fast you moved but how gently.

Over time the marble stops feeling like an object and stands in for the delicate parts of ourselves we carry into adulthood - hope, trust, confidence, whimsy. Each level is anchored by a single word. There is no dialogue and no explicit narrative: meaning emerges from motion, weight and consequence.

The gameplay is a playable metaphor: one possible representation of what social anxiety feels like from the inside, where the difficulty is felt before it is named. By projecting themselves onto the main character, players might recognise their own struggles - and, if undiagnosed, seek help.

Made for a jam organised by DeepWell DTx and Global Game Jam to demonstrate how game themes and mechanics can work as treatment mechanisms. It is also featured on the Evolving Playground to help children develop emotional intelligence.

The polygons are memories, of every shape and colour. You collect them, but the score measures variety rather than volume: a wider range of memories suggests a fuller life. The other circles are other people - some born with a head start. The red squares are accidents. It is okay to fail, and okay to forget.

You can discard your own memories too; sometimes it is better to let go. Part of the piece lies in discovering the system for yourself: over a few seconds, a life unfolds as geometry - and then it ends.