From Jungle Novice to Ocean Animal King: A Game Designer’s Journey of Risk, Ritual, and Reward

I still remember the first time I sat at a digital arcade in Auckland—no map, no strategy, just the hum of waves and the flicker of dorsal light. I thought ‘animal games’ were about luck. They weren’t. They were about listening.

As a CMC graduate with an ENTP mind, I saw patterns others missed: every bet was a hypothesis, every spin a data point. The ‘Ocean Animal’ system wasn’t designed for thrill—it was engineered for flow. Players don’t chase jackpots; they chase rhythm.

I ran A/B tests on 500K+ DAU games not to optimize win rates—but to understand why players return. It wasn’t the bonus multiplier; it was the pause between spins—the breath before the next wave—that kept them coming back.

My mother taught me: ‘The sea doesn’t reward the loudest voice.’ So I stopped shouting for big wins. Instead, I built rituals: 20-minute sessions after coffee. Small bets. Quiet corners where silence speaks louder than bells.

In ‘Coral Animal Fest’, we didn’t sell tickets—we hosted ceremonies. Players didn’t gamble; they danced with dolphins under moonlit waves.

You don’t become an Ocean Animal King by winning big—you become one by showing up consistently, by choosing stillness over noise, by turning play into prayer.