Mayson has always made his own games. Not on a screen — on a whiteboard, in marker, complete with rules, level progressions, and little doodled characters he's already named. He'll map out how a mechanic should work, erase it, redraw it better, and then come find us to explain exactly how it's supposed to be played.
And we play them. Every one of them. Sitting on the floor next to that whiteboard, following rules Mayson made up an hour ago, is one of our favorite ways to spend an afternoon together.
One of those whiteboard sessions was for a game he called Slime Combine — drop matching slimes together, watch them merge into something bigger, chase a higher tier. It was a great idea. And it gave me an idea of my own: what if I actually built it? Not a toy version, not a mockup — a real, playable game, made just for him, in a single weekend.
The original simple concept.
I sat down on a Thursday night meaning to build out a crude prototype. Twelve hours and one sunrise later, I was still there — it was Friday morning, and a rough but real, playable version of Slime Combine existed for the first time.
I showed that early version to Mayson Friday night, we played until 10pm. Mayson woke up Saturday morning at 7am excited to play (Daddy was still sleeping!). Mayson and I spent the entire weekend on it together. He'd play a round, tell me exactly what felt wrong, and I'd change it right there while he watched. Colors got cooler. Sounds got more fun. Slimes got bigger. Merges had satisfying particle effects. Little by little, his whiteboard sketch became the game you can play today.
“The excitement in his eyes seeing his game come to life, and the passion he brought to the table playing it, was a dream of mine — to bond with my son while doing what I love with the one I love. He is so creative, and I hope to inspire his future.”