The empty cursor blinked at Aaron, flashing on the black screen like a heartbeat, steady and unrelenting. He took a deep breath, fingertips hovering over his keyboard, knowing this tiny moment of the mouse could very well change the direction of his life. What he saw on the screen was, to most people, a simple string of symbols and words. But to Aaron, it was the first step into a new world he could barely grasp.

Aaron had grown up in a typical suburb, the kind of place where everyone’s life followed a fairly strict pattern. His parents worked reliable jobs—his mum as a teacher, his dad in construction management.

They were good people, supportive and steady, but they didn’t quite understand why Aaron was so drawn to his computer screen. To them, video games were just a way for kids to waste their life, and computers were just tools. They hadn’t yet seen the potential that Aaron saw every time he picked up a controller or stared into his monitor, the black screen brimming with ideas looked straight back at him, asking him to do it.

As a kid, he’d been enchanted by the worlds in his games—places with strange characters, thrilling quests, and stories that felt larger than than his boring life. But as he started to get older, his fascination shifted. He no longer wanted to just play these games; he wanted to understand them. What was it that made them move? How did the character on the screen respond to his input, and why did some games feel more immersive than others?

For the last few months, Aaron had consumed everything he could about game design. He watched videos that broke down mechanics, scoured forums for tips, and even started learning programming basics online. The first time he opened a “How to Make a Game” tutorial, it was like a curtain had lifted. He felt like he’d been given a glimpse of something he was meant to do, and all of a sudden, he felt a spark light up inside of him.

The initial thrill, however, didn’t last as long as he’d hoped. Aaron quickly discovered that programming was no walk in the park. The sheer logic behind it all—everything had to be just right, or the code wouldn’t run. The first error message he encountered felt like a personal failure, as if the computer itself were telling him he wasn’t cut out for this.

But he kept persevering . Every time he was about to quit, he reminded himself why he was doing this—to create a world of his own, one where others could get lost, just like he had.

One Saturday night, he was in his room, engrossed in a project when his mum poked her head in. "Aaron, are you coming downstairs for dinner?" Her voice was gentle, but Aaron could hear the concern beneath it.

"Uh, yeah, in a sec, mum," he mumbled, not looking up from the screen. He had almost figured out why his sprite wouldn’t stop glitching every time it moved downwards. He was so close to solving it.

His mum hovered for a moment, watching him. "You know, I don’t quite get what you’re working on, but you’ve been at this for weeks. Don’t you think it might be good to take a break?

Aaron sighed, tearing his eyes away from the screen. He knew she didn’t understand; it wasn’t her fault. Coding wasn’t like reading a book you could put down and pick up later. It demanded attention and focus, especially when you were at the edge of a breakthrough. "I’m almost done with this part, mum. It’s... it’s a lot harder than I thought."

She nodded, her face softening. "Just don’t push yourself too hard, honey. We love that you have something you’re passionate about, but don’t forget about school and your friends."

The mention of friends reminded him of Miles. He hadn’t hung out with him in a while, and he missed their Saturday game nights. But lately, Aaron had been so focused on his code that everything else felt like a distraction.

The next week, Aaron decided it was time to work on a full game—a simple maze where a character could move around. It was nothing grand, but it was a start, and he felt a surge of excitement as he began. For the first few hours, things went surprisingly well. He managed to set up a basic grid and give the character the ability to move around with arrow keys. He watched in satisfaction as his little character moved left, right, up, and down, just as he’d planned.

But then, as expected, he hit a wall. His character kept getting stuck in certain spots, refusing to move no matter how much he adjusted the code. Aaron spent hours tweaking variables, reworking lines of code, but nothing fixed the issue. It was frustrating, like running into an invisible wall over and over, each failed attempt making him question whether he was cut out for this.

“Come on,” he muttered, fingers clenching into fists. He took a deep breath and leaned back in his chair, trying to clear his mind. He knew there had to be a solution, some tiny detail he was overlooking.

After countless hours of troubleshooting, he noticed a single line of code that didn’t match the tutorial he’d been following. It was a tiny typo, something he’d missed earlier in his haste. Heart pounding, he fixed the line, hit ‘Run,’ and watched as his character moved smoothly through the maze.

It was a small, almost minusclule victory, but in that moment, Aaron felt like he’d conquered the world. He leaned back, a huge grin spreading across his face. All the late nights, the frustration—it had all been worth it.

The following day, he told Miles about his progress. They were sitting in the school cafeteria, and Aaron’s excitement spilled out in a rush. "I actually got it to work, man! The character moves through the maze without getting stuck."

Miles raised an eyebrow, looking half-interested, half-confused. "You’re really into this, aren’t you?"

Aaron nodded enthusiastically. "I know it sounds boring, but it feels incredible to make something work after trying for so long."

Miles shrugged. "I get it. It’s like when I finally landed that skate trick after weeks of wiping out. You’re the coding version of that, I guess.’

Aaron laughed. "Yeah, something like that ."

Miles leaned back, grinning. "Well, just don’t go forgetting us when you’re some famous game developer."

Aaron’s smile faded a bit. As much as he loved coding, he worried about losing his friends. He didn’t want to isolate himself, but he also knew that this passion was something he couldn’t ignore.

His parents, meanwhile, remained skeptical. At dinner one evening, his dad asked, “So, this coding stuff… is it a phase, or do you actually think you can make a career out of it?"

Aaron hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “It’s what I really want to do, Dad. I know it might not seem practical, but people make careers out of this. They create games that… that bring people together. It’s more than just a hobby.”

His dad sighed, setting down his fork. “I get that, but make sure you’re not putting all your eggs in one basket. There’s a reason most people don’t make it in the game industry. It’s tough. Unstable. I just want you to have options.”

Aaron’s chest tightened. He understood where his dad was coming from, but he wished he could make him see how much this meant to him. “I appreciate that, but I’ve been researching, learning everything I can. I know it won’t be easy, but I’m willing to work for it.”

They didn’t discuss it further that night, but the conversation lingered in Aaron’s mind. He knew he couldn’t convince them overnight, but he hoped that one day, he’d be able to prove that this wasn’t just a phase, that day would not be today though.

As the weeks turned into months, Aaron’s skills improved. He tackled new projects, each one a little more complex than the last. He experimented with different game mechanics, spending countless hours debugging and learning from his mistakes. Every breakthrough felt like climbing a mountain, and with each success, his confidence grew.

One night, after another long coding session, he finally decided to take a break and went out for a late-night walk around his neighborhood. The cool air cleared his mind, and he felt a sense of calm he hadn’t felt in weeks. He looked up at the stars, thinking about everything he’d learned so far. He was still far from being the game developer he wanted to be, but he knew he was on the right path.

The next day, his mum noticed the change in him. “You seem different, Aaron,” she said over breakfast. “More… sure of yourself.”

Aaron nodded, a small smile on his face. “I think I am. I don’t have it all figured out yet, but I know this is what I want. And I know it’ll be hard, but I’m ready.”

She reached across the table, squeezing his hand. “We’re proud of you, Aaron. Just remember that we’re here for you, no matter what happens.”

Aaron spent that day coding, his heart full of purpose. Every line of code, every solved bug—it all felt like a step closer to his dreams. He knew there would be more challenges, more late nights and frustrations. But for the first time, he felt like he could face them head-on.

As he worked into the night, he thought about the worlds he would create, the stories he would tell, and the players who would one day explore his games. This was just the beginning, but he knew that as long as he held onto his passion, he could make his dreams a reality.

Aaron opened a blank file, taking a deep breath as he prepared to dive into his next challenge. He’d mastered the basics, but he wanted to go beyond what any tutorial could teach. His plan: create an actual, interactive game, even if it was just a basic prototype. He sketched out the concept in his notebook, laying out a map with obstacles and goals. The idea was simple—just guide a character from start to finish. But making it work was another story.

The complexity of the code felt overwhelming, but he was determined. He poured himself into every step, starting with the basics: setting up a character, assigning it movement commands, and building obstacles. Each line of code felt like an uncharted path he was carving for himself, even though others had walked it before.

Three hours later, he had a rough prototype. The screen showed a crude, pixelated character bouncing across a simple black-and-white maze. He hit “Run” and watched as the character moved—well, sort of. The movement was clunky, the character occasionally glitching out or freezing in place. He tried not to feel discouraged, reminding himself that this was normal. Debugging was part of the process, after all.

"Think, Aaron. What’s wrong with the code?” he muttered, eyes glued to the screen.

He scanned the lines, looking for anything that seemed out of place. After a while, he noticed a small syntax error: a misplaced semicolon. He fixed it, then hit "Run" again. The character moved smoother this time, but it still didn’t feel right. It stopped too quickly, breaking the fluidity he was hoping for. He sighed, leaning back in his chair.

Programming, he realized, was like trying to assemble a thousand-piece puzzle without knowing what the final picture looked like. He was just putting pieces together, hoping they fit.

As he worked, memories of his first gaming experiences drifted into his mind. He thought about how natural movement felt in those games, how it felt like second nature to control his character. That was the kind of experience he wanted to recreate—something intuitive and smooth, something that players wouldn’t even think about but simply feel.

Aaron jotted down notes, scribbling ideas on how to adjust the speed and acceleration of his character. He tested different values, adjusting the responsiveness with each attempt. After what felt like countless attempts, he finally got it right. The character moved in a way that felt natural. It wasn’t perfect, but it was progress. And in that moment, Aaron felt a surge of pride. Every step forward, no matter how small, reminded him why he loved this work.

His mum knocked on his door, pulling him out of his coding trance. “Dinner’s ready,” she said gently. “And it’s getting late. Maybe it’s time to wrap up for the night?

Aaron glanced at the clock. He hadn’t realized how much time had passed. Reluctantly, he saved his work and shut down the computer, feeling the weight of both exhaustion and satisfaction settle over him. As he followed her downstairs, he felt a tug of guilt. He knew he’d been absorbed, barely coming out of his room except for meals. But it was hard to explain the pull of this project, the way it made him feel like he was working toward something meaningful.

At dinner, his dad asked him more questions about his coding. Aaron explained his recent progress, feeling both excited and nervous. “It’s... it’s like trying to build a house, but from the inside out. I can see what I want it to look like, but getting there feels like carving through solid rock sometimes.”

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His dad nodded slowly, eyebrows knitted in thought. “That’s an interesting way to put it. You’ve got a lot of patience for this kind of work.”

Aaron smiled, glad for the support, even if they couldn’t fully understand. To him, coding wasn’t just about creating games; it was about discovering the potential hidden within himself. Each line of code was a step toward mastering a language that was, in some ways, more expressive than words.

After dinner, he messaged Miles, who had been wondering about Aaron’s recent obsession. Miles had always been more social than Aaron, and lately, he’d been asking why Aaron was “always in front of that screen.

“Yo, you busy?” Aaron texted.

Miles responded almost instantly. “Not anymore. What’s up?”

“I wanna show you something I’ve been working on. It’s not much yet, but I think you’ll like it.”

Half an hour later, Miles was sitting beside him, eyes widening as he watched Aaron run the game. “So… you made this?” he asked, clearly impressed.

Aaron nodded, a shy smile creeping onto his face. “It’s basic, but yeah. I wanted to get the character to move smoothly, and it finally worked.

Miles leaned back, whistling. “Man, I had no idea you were into this. This is actually kinda cool lol.”

Aaron laughed, feeling a mixture of pride and relief. Sharing his progress with someone else made it feel real, as if the code had finally come alive in a way that went beyond the screen.

The next few days were a blur of school, coding, and refining his project. Each time he fixed a bug, he felt another burst of confidence. With every problem solved, he was stepping further into a world that felt both alien and completely his own. He knew he had a long way to go—there were advanced concepts he hadn’t even touched yet, and entire languages to learn—but for now, he was exactly where he needed to be.

For the last few months, Aaron had consumed everything he could about game design. He watched videos that broke down mechanics, scoured forums for tips, and even started learning programming basics online. The first time he opened a “How to Make a Game” tutorial, it was like a curtain had lifted. He felt like he’d been given a glimpse of something he was meant to do, and all of a sudden, he felt a spark light up inside of him.

The initial thrill, however, didn’t last as long as he’d hoped. Aaron quickly discovered that programming was no walk in the park. The sheer logic behind it all—everything had to be just right, or the code wouldn’t run. The first error message he encountered felt like a personal failure, as if the computer itself were telling him he wasn’t cut out for this.

But he kept persevering . Every time he was about to quit, he reminded himself why he was doing this—to create a world of his own, one where others could get lost, just like he had.

One Saturday night, he was in his room, engrossed in a project when his mum poked her head in. "Aaron, are you coming downstairs for dinner?" Her voice was gentle, but Aaron could hear the concern beneath it.

"Uh, yeah, in a sec, mum," he mumbled, not looking up from the screen. He had almost figured out why his sprite wouldn’t stop glitching every time it moved downwards. He was so close to solving it.

His mum hovered for a moment, watching him. "You know, I don’t quite get what you’re working on, but you’ve been at this for weeks. Don’t you think it might be good to take a break?

Aaron sighed, tearing his eyes away from the screen. He knew she didn’t understand; it wasn’t her fault. Coding wasn’t like reading a book you could put down and pick up later. It demanded attention and focus, especially when you were at the edge of a breakthrough. "I’m almost done with this part, mum. It’s... it’s a lot harder than I thought."

She nodded, her face softening. "Just don’t push yourself too hard, honey. We love that you have something you’re passionate about, but don’t forget about school and your friends."

The mention of friends reminded him of Miles. He hadn’t hung out with him in a while, and he missed their Saturday game nights. But lately, Aaron had been so focused on his code that everything else felt like a distraction.

The next week, Aaron decided it was time to work on a full game—a simple maze where a character could move around. It was nothing grand, but it was a start, and he felt a surge of excitement as he began. For the first few hours, things went surprisingly well. He managed to set up a basic grid and give the character the ability to move around with arrow keys. He watched in satisfaction as his little character moved left, right, up, and down, just as he’d planned.

But then, as expected, he hit a wall. His character kept getting stuck in certain spots, refusing to move no matter how much he adjusted the code. Aaron spent hours tweaking variables, reworking lines of code, but nothing fixed the issue. It was frustrating, like running into an invisible wall over and over, each failed attempt making him question whether he was cut out for this.

“Come on,” he muttered, fingers clenching into fists. He took a deep breath and leaned back in his chair, trying to clear his mind. He knew there had to be a solution, some tiny detail he was overlooking.

After countless hours of troubleshooting, he noticed a single line of code that didn’t match the tutorial he’d been following. It was a tiny typo, something he’d missed earlier in his haste. Heart pounding, he fixed the line, hit ‘Run,’ and watched as his character moved smoothly through the maze.

It was a small, almost minusclule victory, but in that moment, Aaron felt like he’d conquered the world. He leaned back, a huge grin spreading across his face. All the late nights, the frustration—it had all been worth it.

The following day, he told Miles about his progress. They were sitting in the school cafeteria, and Aaron’s excitement spilled out in a rush. "I actually got it to work, man! The character moves through the maze without getting stuck."

Miles raised an eyebrow, looking half-interested, half-confused. "You’re really into this, aren’t you?"

Aaron nodded enthusiastically. "I know it sounds boring, but it feels incredible to make something work after trying for so long."

Miles shrugged. "I get it. It’s like when I finally landed that skate trick after weeks of wiping out. You’re the coding version of that, I guess.’

Aaron laughed. "Yeah, something like that ."

Miles leaned back, grinning. "Well, just don’t go forgetting us when you’re some famous game developer."

Aaron’s smile faded a bit. As much as he loved coding, he worried about losing his friends. He didn’t want to isolate himself, but he also knew that this passion was something he couldn’t ignore.

His parents, meanwhile, remained skeptical. At dinner one evening, his dad asked, “So, this coding stuff… is it a phase, or do you actually think you can make a career out of it?”

Aaron hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “It’s what I really want to do, Dad. I know it might not seem practical, but people make careers out of this. They create games that… that bring people together. It’s more than just a hobby.”

His dad sighed, setting down his fork. “I get that, but make sure you’re not putting all your eggs in one basket. There’s a reason most people don’t make it in the game industry. It’s tough. Unstable. I just want you to have options.”

Aaron’s chest tightened. He understood where his dad was coming from, but he wished he could make him see how much this meant to him. “I appreciate that, but I’ve been researching, learning everything I can. I know it won’t be easy, but I’m willing to work for it.”

They didn’t discuss it further that night, but the conversation lingered in Aaron’s mind. He knew he couldn’t convince them overnight, but he hoped that one day, he’d be able to prove that this wasn’t just a phase, that day would not be today though.

As the weeks turned into months, Aaron’s skills improved. He tackled new projects, each one a little more complex than the last. He experimented with different game mechanics, spending countless hours debugging and learning from his mistakes. Every breakthrough felt like climbing a mountain, and with each success, his confidence grew.

One night, after another long coding session, he finally decided to take a break and went out for a late-night walk around his neighborhood. The cool air cleared his mind, and he felt a sense of calm he hadn’t felt in weeks. He looked up at the stars, thinking about everything he’d learned so far. He was still far from being the game developer he wanted to be, but he knew he was on the right path.

The next day, his mum noticed the change in him. “You seem different, Aaron,” she said over breakfast. “More… sure of yourself.”

Aaron nodded, a small smile on his face. “I think I am. I don’t have it all figured out yet, but I know this is what I want. And I know it’ll be hard, but I’m ready.”

She reached across the table, squeezing his hand. “We’re proud of you, Aaron. Just remember that we’re here for you, no matter what happens.”

Aaron spent that day coding, his heart full of purpose. Every line of code, every solved bug—it all felt like a step closer to his dreams. He knew there would be more challenges, more late nights and frustrations. But for the first time, he felt like he could face them head-on.

As he worked into the night, he thought about the worlds he would create, the stories he would tell, and the players who would one day explore his games. This was just the beginning, but he knew that as long as he held onto his passion, he could make his dreams a reality.

Aaron opened a blank file, taking a deep breath as he prepared to dive into his next challenge. He’d mastered the basics, but he wanted to go beyond what any tutorial could teach. His plan: create an actual, interactive game, even if it was just a basic prototype. He sketched out the concept in his notebook, laying out a map with obstacles and goals. The idea was simple—just guide a character from start to finish. But making it work was another story.

The complexity of the code felt overwhelming, but he was determined. He poured himself into every step, starting with the basics: setting up a character, assigning it movement commands, and building obstacles. Each line of code felt like an uncharted path he was carving for himself, even though others had walked it before.

Three hours later, he had a rough prototype. The screen showed a crude, pixelated character bouncing across a simple black-and-white maze. He hit “Run” and watched as the character moved—well, sort of. The movement was clunky, the character occasionally glitching out or freezing in place. He tried not to feel discouraged, reminding himself that this was normal. Debugging was part of the process, after all.

"Think, Aaron. What’s wrong with the code?” he muttered, eyes glued to the screen.

He scanned the lines, looking for anything that seemed out of place. After a while, he noticed a small syntax error: a misplaced semicolon. He fixed it, then hit "Run" again. The character moved smoother this time, but it still didn’t feel right. It stopped too quickly, breaking the fluidity he was hoping for. He sighed, leaning back in his chair.

Programming, he realized, was like trying to assemble a thousand-piece puzzle without knowing what the final picture looked like. He was just putting pieces together, hoping they fit.

As he worked, memories of his first gaming experiences drifted into his mind. He thought about how natural movement felt in those games, how it felt like second nature to control his character. That was the kind of experience he wanted to recreate—something intuitive and smooth, something that players wouldn’t even think about but simply feel.

Aaron jotted down notes, scribbling ideas on how to adjust the speed and acceleration of his character. He tested different values, adjusting the responsiveness with each attempt. After what felt like countless attempts, he finally got it right. The character moved in a way that felt natural. It wasn’t perfect, but it was progress. And in that moment, Aaron felt a surge of pride. Every step forward, no matter how small, reminded him why he loved this work.

His mum knocked on his door, pulling him out of his coding trance. “Dinner’s ready,” she said gently. “And it’s getting late. Maybe it’s time to wrap up for the night?”

Aaron glanced at the clock. He hadn’t realized how much time had passed. Reluctantly, he saved his work and shut down the computer, feeling the weight of both exhaustion and satisfaction settle over him. As he followed her downstairs, he felt a tug of guilt. He knew he’d been absorbed, barely coming out of his room except for meals. But it was hard to explain the pull of this project, the way it made him feel like he was working toward something meaningful.

At dinner, his dad asked him more questions about his coding. Aaron explained his recent progress, feeling both excited and nervous. “It’s... it’s like trying to build a house, but from the inside out. I can see what I want it to look like, but getting there feels like carving through solid rock sometimes.”

His dad nodded slowly, eyebrows knitted in thought. “That’s an interesting way to put it. You’ve got a lot of patience for this kind of work.”

Aaron smiled, glad for the support, even if they couldn’t fully understand. To him, coding wasn’t just about creating games; it was about discovering the potential hidden within himself. Each line of code was a step toward mastering a language that was, in some ways, more expressive than words.

After dinner, he messaged Miles, who had been wondering about Aaron’s recent obsession. Miles had always been more social than Aaron, and lately, he’d been asking why Aaron was “always in front of that screen.

“Yo, you busy?” Aaron texted.

Miles responded almost instantly. “Not anymore. What’s up?”

“I wanna show you something I’ve been working on. It’s not much yet, but I think you’ll like it.”

Half an hour later, Miles was sitting beside him, eyes widening as he watched Aaron run the game. “So… you made this?” he asked, clearly impressed.

Aaron nodded, a shy smile creeping onto his face. “It’s basic, but yeah. I wanted to get the character to move smoothly, and it finally worked.

Miles leaned back, whistling. “Man, I had no idea you were into this. This is actually kinda cool lol.”

Aaron laughed, feeling a mixture of pride and relief. Sharing his progress with someone else made it feel real, as if the code had finally come alive in a way that went beyond the screen.

The next few days were a blur of school, coding, and refining his project. Each time he fixed a bug, he felt another burst of confidence. With every problem solved, he was stepping further into a world that felt both alien and completely his own. He knew he had a long way to go—there were advanced concepts he hadn’t even touched yet, and entire languages to learn—but for now, he was exactly where he needed to be.