When A Game Makes You God

One Shot matters and so do you

These posts are posted in a creative writing format. The best way to consume them is on a desktop, as mobile view may distort the initial storytelling present in the formatting.

To not disturb the flow with an annoying subscribe button in the bulk of the creative formatting, I am going to put that button here. If this vibes with you, consider subscribing. :)

 The strangest thing about OneShot is how 
            it makes you feel 
                like you are an intruder 
                    inside your own computer. 

Most games invite you in politely.

You press start.
Here’s the world.
Here’s the hero.

One Shot stares straight through the screen and says, “I know you’re in there.”

It doesn’t stop at asking you to guide Niko, the small, fragile cat child wandering a broken sunless world. It asks you to bear the weight of being their God.

Suddenly, the puzzles don’t feel like puzzles.
They are responsibility.

When Niko looks up at you and asks if they’re gonna get to go home, it’s not a dialogue option; it’s a question that sticks to your ribs like grief.

What moved me most is that One Shot isn’t really about power; it’s about limits.

You can’t fix everything, can’t save everyone. You only get one shot.

And that truth echoes beyond the monitor.

Life itself is fragile, 
        and the people we love 
                 are always asking 
                          in a thousand small ways 
                                   if they’re gonna be okay. 

The game doesn’t let you look away.
It makes you answer.

And in doing so, it reminds us that our presence… our attention is holy.

---