Video Game Cultures 2025 - 10-12 September 2025 at Charles University, Prague (CZ)

Between September 10th and 12th, the VIDEO GAME CULTURES conference will take place at Charles University in Prague, Czech Republic. I will be presenting my work in person during the "horror spaces" session, and I'm sharing the abstract of my paper with you all below. (I'll also be sharing the full article soon).



Minimal resources, maximal horror: a study of the game IRON LUNG

This paper explores the minimalist approach to horror in David Szymanski's indie game, IRON LUNG, within the context of dystopian and apocalyptic narratives prevalent in contemporary video game culture. IRON LUNG distinguishes itself by its stark, low-fidelity visuals and audio, creating an atmosphere of profound dread with minimal resources. This study examines how these limitations, rather than hindering the player's experience, amplify the sense of isolation and claustrophobia, core tenets of effective horror design.

The analysis delves into the game's setting: a desolate, rust-covered ocean on a moon entirely submerged in blood, where the player navigates a submarine using rudimentary sonar. This environment, rendered in a limited colour palette and simple geometric shapes, evokes a sense of vast, unknowable danger. The paper argues that this minimalism forces the player to engage their imagination, filling in the gaps with their own fears, thereby intensifying the horror experience.

Furthermore, this paper discusses how indie game development allows for unique, experimental concepts that often diverge from mainstream titles. IRON LUNG exemplifies this, showcasing how creative constraints can lead to innovative gameplay and narrative design. By eschewing high-fidelity graphics and complex mechanics, the game focuses on psychological horror, relying on atmosphere and sound to create tension. This study concludes that IRON LUNG's success lies in its ability to maximise horror through minimalism, demonstrating the power of restraint in video game design.

Keywords: Indie Games, Horror Games, Minimalism, Dystopia, Apocalypse, Game Design, David Szymanski, IRON LUNG.

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There are no fixed rules in UX for games, and everything can be reconfigured

Last month, the Brazilian publisher SENAC released my new book, "Introdução para UX em games" (Introduction to UX in games). There is no English version yet, but I'd like to share a translated excerpt from the book that I'm very fond of.



If we are designing an e-commerce site for a wide audience, for practical reasons, we would never use a black background with dark blue text and out-of-focus photos to facilitate the online shopping experience. However, in a game, this is perfectly valid, especially if we are using this "hidden" text as part of a puzzle to be solved. The first game in the Silent Hill series uses this technique a lot, forcing the player to explore the scenery in search of clues, weapons, equipment, and ammunition. In this case, "complicating" the player's life is what brings the game experience to life.

We often say that explaining a game's procedures is a basic part of an experience with a beginning, middle, and end. But the game Tunic explains nothing to the player. You literally have to guess the commands and use your experience from other games you've played to progress through the narrative. Of course, there are various tutorials on the internet to illustrate the content of Tunic, but the game's unique feature is that you get to fumble through and solve each phase with guesses, hunches, and prior knowledge from other experiences. In the case of a food delivery app, however, we don't want the "challenge" of figuring out how to order a meal; we want something with clear instructions.

We've also mentioned the need for clarity of elements, icons, figures, shapes, colors, and so on, in an interface. But games with a bullet hell premise, such as Enter the Gungeon, are interesting precisely because they make the interface chaotic, creating a challenge of dexterity to escape enemy fire. The stroboscopic effect on the screen in Super Hexagon is a deliberate hindrance that makes sense within the game's skill-based challenge. If we are choosing a movie on a streaming service's interface, the last thing we want is an infinite number of graphical elements or flashing lights getting in the way of reading a review or accessing a movie or series' trailer.

Everything can be reconfigured, re-signified, and remodeled in terms of UX.

Perhaps the great differentiator of your game is a "mistake" in UX standards. The experiences on other platforms help us to compose something more concise and impactful. The game Baba is You is famous for allowing the player to interfere with the level's programming and change the behavior of the elements on the screen. Every level of Baba is You starts with some error or problem in the interface, and you have to move programming blocks to reconfigure the scenario and solve the game's puzzles.

To do this, you need a repertoire. You need to play everything, to experience everything in playful terms. Mixing experiences from other areas—not just games—is also a differentiator that can be surprising in terms of user experience. Above all, most of the time we are not going to develop games for ourselves or for audiences who are similar to us. The exercise of alterity and putting yourself in the target audience's shoes is what will make a difference when creating the experience.

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About the idea of “kingmaker” in games

A kingmaker in the context of gaming refers to a player or faction that, while unlikely to win themselves, possesses significant influence over the outcome of the game by supporting or hindering other players. This pivotal role arises from their ability to tip the scales in favor of one contender over another, effectively deciding who will emerge victorious. Their power often stems from holding critical resources, controlling strategic positions, or wielding sufficient military strength to sway the balance of power.

The kingmaker's motivations can vary widely, ranging from self-preservation and a desire to see a specific rival fail, to strategic alliances that promise future benefits or simply the enjoyment of manipulating the game's dynamics from a position of relative safety.



The emergence of a kingmaker introduces a fascinating layer of strategic depth and negotiation to a game. Players vying for victory must consider not only their direct opponents but also how to court or neutralize the kingmaker's influence. This can involve offering concessions, forming temporary alliances, or even attempting to eliminate the kingmaker if their interference becomes too detrimental. For the kingmaker, their position offers a unique opportunity to experience the game from a different perspective, often involving complex calculations about long-term consequences and the satisfaction of shaping the narrative without bearing the full burden of direct competition. This dynamic often leads to intense diplomatic exchanges and unexpected shifts in power. Ultimately, the kingmaker phenomenon highlights the intricate social and strategic dimensions inherent in many multiplayer games. It underscores that victory is not always a linear path but can be heavily influenced by external factors and the interplay of player relationships. Recognizing and understanding the role of a kingmaker is crucial for both aspiring champions and those who find themselves in this powerful, albeit indirect, position. Their presence transforms a simple contest into a complex web of alliances, betrayals, and strategic maneuvering, making the game experience richer and more unpredictable.

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The origin of Mario’s iconic jump sound

Today I want to share a masterclass of sound design. Enjoy it!



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What defines a good digital prototype in game design?

A digital prototype within the context of professional game development serves as a crucial instrument for validating core concepts and mitigating risks before committing significant resources. Unlike paper prototypes or conceptual documents, a digital prototype offers an interactive, albeit rudimentary, representation of the intended player experience. Its primary function is not aesthetic fidelity or feature completeness, but rather the tangible exploration of fundamental mechanics, systems interactions, and the overall game loop. A truly effective digital prototype transcends mere technical demonstration; it becomes a dynamic testbed for design hypotheses, enabling teams to confront and evaluate the experiential core of their project early in the lifecycle.


Some screenshots from the digital prototype of my last game The Perilous Chapel

The hallmark of a superior digital prototype, particularly for seasoned game designers, lies in its inherent capacity to facilitate rapid and meaningful iteration. The development landscape is characterized by constant refinement, and a prototype's value is directly proportional to how efficiently it allows designers to test variations, implement feedback, and pivot based on empirical findings. This iterative potential is paramount. A good prototype is architected for change, allowing for swift adjustments to core mechanics, control schemes, or system parameters without requiring extensive refactoring. It prioritizes flexibility and modularity, enabling designers to isolate variables, conduct focused playtests, and gather actionable data that informs subsequent design decisions, ultimately accelerating the journey towards a compelling and well-tuned gameplay experience.

So, while various factors contribute to a prototype's utility, its effectiveness for professional game designers is most significantly defined by its ability to serve as a catalyst for iteration. A good digital prototype is not merely a proof-of-concept but an adaptable experimental platform. It provides clear, interactive feedback on core gameplay, is structured for efficient modification, and empowers design teams to refine their vision through cycles of testing and adjustment. Investing in the creation of prototypes optimized for iteration is therefore not just a best practice, but a strategic imperative for navigating the complexities of modern game development and increasing the probability of delivering a successful final product.

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My new game was launched!

It is with great joy that I announce the launch of my new game, THE PERILOUS CHAPEL. This extremely experimental game is based on the homonymous horror short story by my friend Oscar Nestarez. To play, click here or on the image below. The game is available in English and Portuguese and it's free to play (but you can support with a donnation).



The game is a partnership between my independent label ABYSSTRAKT GAMES and the publisher T4 Interactive. Hope you enjoy it!

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Breaking the rules for fun: when bad UX/UI makes great game challenges

In the realm of user experience and user interface design, the core principles revolve around clarity, efficiency, and ease of use. We strive to create intuitive pathways, provide clear feedback, and minimize frustration. However, the world of games operates under a slightly different set of rules. While good UX/UI is often crucial for onboarding and overall enjoyment, intentionally subverting these principles can be a powerful tool for crafting compelling and memorable challenges. Sometimes, the very elements that would be considered flaws in a productivity app become the cornerstones of engaging gameplay.

One common area where breaking UX/UI norms can be beneficial is in creating a sense of mystery and discovery. Imagine a game where the objective isn't immediately obvious, or where the controls are intentionally cryptic at first - like TUNIC as an example. This can foster a feeling of exploration and reward players for experimentation and problem-solving. For example, the early days of adventure games often featured obtuse puzzles with little to no in-game guidance. While frustrating for some, this forced players to think outside the box, share solutions, and ultimately feel a greater sense of accomplishment upon figuring things out. Similarly, intentionally vague item descriptions or map layouts can encourage players to meticulously explore the game world and piece together information.



Another instance where "bad" UX/UI can enhance gameplay is in creating a deliberate sense of difficulty or tension. Think of survival horror games where limited inventory space forces agonizing decisions about what to carry, or where a cluttered interface adds to the feeling of panic in a stressful situation. These design choices, while counterintuitive in most applications, actively contribute to the desired emotional response in the player. The clunky controls in early survival horror titles, often criticized for their lack of precision, actually amplified the feeling of vulnerability when facing terrifying creatures. The struggle to aim and react became part of the core gameplay loop, increasing the stakes of each encounter.

Ultimately, the decision to deviate from standard UX/UI practices in game design must be deliberate and serve a specific purpose related to the intended player experience. It's not about being arbitrarily difficult or frustrating; rather, it's about strategically employing elements that might be considered negative in other contexts to create unique challenges, foster a sense of accomplishment, or enhance the game's atmosphere. When executed effectively, these intentional "flaws" can transform a game from simply playable to truly engaging and memorable, proving that sometimes, breaking the rules is the most creative and rewarding path.

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