The Perfect Game: A University of the Mind

I often imagine a game that doesn’t exist. One that isn’t about combat, conquest, or fast rewards—but about depth, growth, and the slow unfolding of understanding. A game where the greatest joy comes not from leveling up or defeating enemies, but from discovering new ideas and following the path of your own curiosity.

The perfect game, for me, would be a university simulator. Not in the shallow, gamified sense—but a rich, immersive world where you are a student at an open, eternal university. A place where every classroom is open, every subject is available, and the professors are living minds—each with their own lectures, perspectives, and disciplines to share.

Imagine walking across a beautifully designed campus—somewhere between ancient stone halls and modern architecture—your dog by your side, your lyre on your back, ready to attend a lecture on ethics, epistemology, or mythology. You could choose to study philosophy, physics, poetry, or music. The game wouldn't force you into a path—it would invite you to explore. To listen, reflect, and respond.

Each professor would be voiced by someone who truly understands the field. You'd sit in a lecture hall and hear real, crafted audio lectures—not exposition, but insight. Afterward, you could talk to other students about what you learned. You might engage in dialogue trees that branch based on your interpretations. You could attend office hours, write essays, present your ideas, or even just sit under a tree and think.

There would be no combat. No time pressure. Just the freedom to learn and live—a kind of soul simulator. A place where you grow by becoming more yourself.

The university would expand over time—new buildings for new schools of thought. Emergent Philosophy could have its own wing, filled with scrolls, quiet reflections, and perhaps even a secret garden of metaphysical insights. You could meet other players who chose different paths—some who focused on science, others on literature, others on theology. Together, you’d shape the intellectual culture of the university.

This game may never exist. It would require a large team, an enormous budget, and the rarest kind of devotion: a love for ideas. It would need to hire the world’s greatest minds and artists. And in today’s market, that might seem impossible.

But the dream remains. And maybe, in dreaming it, I’ve already begun to build it. My comics, my philosophy, my books—all are pieces of that imagined world. Perhaps others will see this vision and feel the same pull. Maybe one day, someone will say: let's make this real.

Until then, the university lives in my heart—and in the hearts of those who seek something more than just entertainment. Something meaningful. Something true.