One of my favorite parts of the Save State project is a simple, poetic constraint Iāve added to deepen the reflection:
Each time I explore a game and its release year, I write a message to my past self from that yearālimited by chance.
Itās a grounding ritual. A miniature letter sent backward in time. Sometimes urgent. Sometimes cryptic. Sometimes exactly what I needed to hear.
š¹ļø The Prompt:
What would I tell myself in the year this game came out?
Rather than leaving the format open, I roll dice to narrow the scope and focus the message. The rules are simple:
š² The Rules of Time Travel
- Roll a d100 ā This determines how many words youāre allowed in your message. It might be sprawling or spare. Either way, you have to work within the limit.
Example: I rolled a 21 for Zelda (1987), so I got 21 wordsājust enough to be sharp, lyrical, and hard-earned. - Roll a d4 ā This determines when in the year your message is sent:
1 = January 1
ā A message to set the tone2 = July 4
ā Midway through the year, often during heat, change, or loneliness3 = December 31
ā A message at the end of the year, filled with hindsight4 = The gameās release date
ā A kind of cosmic alignment: media meets memory
The randomness makes it feel like youāve stumbled upon a signal from the futureāyour future.
āļø Why It Matters
These little letters give me a way to:
- Step back into that year with compassion
- Say the thing I never knew I needed to hear
- Practice emotional clarity, not just narrative
- Keep the Save State entries honest, small, and human
Sometimes, this message becomes the anchor of the entire post. Sometimes itās a quiet epilogue.
š§ Try It Yourself
Next time you revisit an old game (or album or film), ask:
- What would I tell myself that year?
- How many words do I get?
- When in the year is the message sent?
You might be surprised how much truth fits in a roll of the dice.
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