Your company historical vicarious experience

Your company historical vicarious experience Game 6 March 2025 Instagram Linkedin Mathilde Pottier Designer & Founder What do you want to be when you grow up? Some would say an astronaut, others a singer or an actor. Rarely will there be opportunities to become such an incredible character in real life. However, video games are the medium that allows you to feel like the main character of amazing adventures. This is what we call vicarious experience. Imagine yourself in an adventure that is unattainable in the modern world, such as a journey through the Far West. You ride a horse across dusty plains, duel under the scorching sun, and make decisions that shape your destiny. Video games provide a safe and immersive space to live out these dreams. They blur the line between fantasy and reality, giving you the thrill of exploration, the weight of responsibility, and the satisfaction of becoming someone extraordinary, if only for a moment. The Red Dead Redemption vicarious experience Immerse yourself in a bygone era. At the very end of the 19th century, as modern America takes shape, a world is disappearing. A world of cowboys, outlaws, and untamed wilderness. Red Dead Redemption II plunges us into this world with remarkable precision. More than a game, it’s a living reconstruction: every saloon, every train station, every dusty trail seems to breathe history. This era of the Far West, now inaccessible, fascinates us with its harshness, its romanticism, and its deep love of freedom. Thanks to the Vicarious Experience, players can explore this period at their own pace, choosing whether to be an honourable hero or a hunted bandit. It’s also a way of conveying ancient values: respect for nature, honour, brotherhood, but also the moral paradoxes of a changing world. Far from being a mere backdrop, the West becomes an intimate living space to be discovered and experienced. Cavale and the constant pressure of law Somewhere in the mountains of Grizzlies or the dark swamps of Lemoyne, a man lives off the grid. In Red Dead Redemption II, the shadow of the law looms large. A bounty on your head isn’t just a number: it’s a silent sentence. Every town becomes a potential trap, every unfamiliar face an informant or bounty hunter. Far from a simple action game, it’s an immersion in paranoia, in the constant unease of a life on the run. Movements become slower and more cautious. The player learns to avoid, evade, to live on the edge. This muted but omnipresent pressure makes any form of normalcy impossible. Silence becomes a luxury, trust a risk. In this world of brutal law, survival means knowing how to disappear. And suddenly, the Far West loses its idealized freedom to reveal its harshest face: that of eternal flight. The experience of a duel to the death and the law of the strongest Under the scorching sun of a desert afternoon, two silhouettes face each other, frozen in tense silence. The wind makes the dust dance, and the world seems to stand still. In Red Dead Redemption II, the duel is a total sensory experience. It’s not just a matter of reflexes: it’s a moment of truth where every second counts, where every heartbeat sounds like a countdown. One move too early, too late… and everything collapses. The moment is charged with raw adrenaline, controlled fear. In real life, it would be unthinkable to face a man with a gun. But here, the player faces the law of the jungle with no real consequences, experiencing an intensity that few media can offer. The duel becomes an art, a dance of nerves and precision, where honour and survival are at stake in the blink of an eye. Historical reconstruction : go back to the past Immersion and preparation before the event At dawn, in the soft light filtering through the tents, men, and women work in silence. This isn’t a film shoot or a play: it’s a historical reconstruction, and every detail counts. Months of research have gone into this moment. Every stitch of clothing, every belt buckle, and every weapon carried has been carefully chosen, faithful to the materials and techniques of the period. But the illusion doesn’t end with the appearance. You must also learn to walk, talk, and behave as you would in 1812 or 1914. Gestures became rituals, looks were codified. Far from being a simple leisure activity, this immersion requires total investment. It’s a collective effort, a shared passion to bring history to life with accuracy. And in this theatre without an audience, each participant becomes a living fragment of the past. Tatiana Tochilova  The intense experience of combat and life in the field The ground vibrates under the cadenced steps, the orders fly, the drums beat – suddenly the past becomes tangible. In historical re-enactments, the moment of combat is a brutal adrenaline rush. Two sides face each other, each following a rigorously studied strategy, reenacting the precise movements of a forgotten battle. The tension is real, even when the weapons are neutralised. The body reacts: shortness of breath, a pounding heart, tense muscles. In the field, the heat or the rain, the rudimentary bivouacs, the long hours of waiting, create real fatigue. You don’t sleep much, you eat simply, you live the old-fashioned way. Cohesion became essential: everything was based on coordination, respect for roles, synchronisation of attacks and retreats. It’s no longer a game, but an embodied collective memory. And in the midst of all this, history comes alive again, with flesh and breath. The impact of reenactments on memory and the transmission of history When the smoke clears and the uniforms are put away, there’s something deeper than a simple performance. Historical re-enactment provides a unique bridge between the past and the present. By living – if only for a moment – the reality of an era, we go beyond books, dates and museums. History becomes flesh, movement and emotion. For the audience, it’s a sensitive plunge

What kind of character your audience is?

What kind of character your audience is? Game 6 March 2025 Instagram Linkedin Mathilde Pottier Designer & Founder We don’t all get into the game for the same reason. Some seek progress – measurable, tangible. Others are drawn to the unknown, curious to see what lies off the beaten track. Some thrive on connection, building bonds, and sharing moments. And then some move forward by pushing others back, testing boundaries, claiming space. These differences aren’t accidental; they reflect a deeper way of engaging with the world. In the early 2000s, Richard Bartle gave these instincts names: Achievers, Explorers, Socializers, Killers. Originally intended for virtual worlds, these four profiles resonate far beyond games. They speak to the way we think, choose, relate and act – in play and life. Not fixed categories, but shifting tendencies. Sometimes subtle, sometimes obvious. And in the space where choice is offered – on a map, in a conversation, in a booking – they emerge. Not as rules. As reflections. League of legends kind of players The achiever Orianna In the League of Legends universe, some champions attract players who seek raw power or creative chaos. Others, like Orianna, appeal to the methodical mind. Achievers seek precision, progression, and total control over their tools. For them, Orianna is a logical choice. Every action is based on a mastery of positioning and timing, and a detailed knowledge of mechanics. Her power lies not in instinct, but in strategic optimisation. Players don’t react, they anticipate. They think about their moves like a chess player, always one move ahead. This technical requirement feeds their deep motivation: to improve, to understand, to excel. Orianna is not a champion to shine at random, but to demonstrate an elegant form of discipline in every game. For the Achiever, victory is less a feat than a demonstration of controlled rigour. The explorer Bard Some players seek a straight line to victory. And then there are the explorers, for whom the journey is more important than the destination. For them, Bard is much more than a medium: it’s a playground in perpetual motion. He roams the map, collecting Meeps, placing portals through walls, and creating opportunities where none are expected. Its strength lies in the unexpected, in experimentation and informed improvisation. The player who chooses him is not looking for absolute control but for the wonder of a plan in motion. Each game becomes a new exploration, an opportunity to test, distract, and invent. Bard attracts those who want to play differently by opening up unexpected paths. For the explorer, it’s not so much about winning as it is about the freedom to experiment – in your way. The socializer Yuumi and the killer Darius In League of Legends, some advance with others, and those who advance against all. Socializers thrive on cooperation, human connection, and teamwork. For them, Yuumi is an obvious choice: always linked to an ally, she heals, protects, and accompanies. The player is never alone, creating connections and support, seeking harmony in chaos. The Killers, on the other hand, are the embodiment of raw dominance. Their goal is clear: to gain the upper hand over their opponents, to crush them, to impose their presence. Darius is the perfect example. Every move is a threat, every entrance a statement. He controls his lane, forces duels, and executes without mercy. Where Yuumi strengthens bonds, Darius breaks them. Two visions of the game, two radically different styles, but the same intensity: that of a dedicated player, whether he’s trying to create or conquer. Society types of people Are you an achiever? Some advance at the whim of opportunity, and those who plan their course methodically. In both real life and gaming, achievers are driven by a powerful force: the desire to surpass themselves. They set goals – sometimes ambitious, often very specific – and do everything in their power to achieve them. They are not driven by external recognition but by the satisfaction of progress, learning, and achievement. Likewise, they measure, compare, and improve. They run a marathon, learn a rare language, break a personal record… not to impress, but to tick an inner box. Their journey is marked by challenges, milestones, and successes. And behind this rigour lies a sincere quest: to get better, at their own pace, according to their own rules. For them, every victory is proof. Not to others but to themselves. Arty Are you an explorer?  Not everyone wants to climb a mountain and reach the top. Some prefer to walk around it, to observe forgotten paths, to stop and listen to the wind. In real life, explorers are driven by curiosity, not a need to achieve. They are driven by experience, novelty, and by understanding the world in all its facets. They like to change their perspective, to test, to observe, to learn without necessarily wanting to master. We find them on solitary expeditions, journeys without an itinerary, and atypical life projects. Some are exploring nature, others are exploring thought, and others are exploring their way of life. Minimalism, nomadism, meditation, alternative science: everything becomes a pretext for questioning, experimenting, and discovering. Their wealth lies not in accumulation but in openness. For them, living fully means never stopping to explore. Or are you a killer or a socialiser? Some go it alone, others go it with – or against – those around them. Socialisers and killers have one thing in common: their relationship with others is central. Socialisers seek to make connections, bring people together, and create shared spaces. They organise, lead, and listen. They can be found in social circles, community projects, or collective causes. Conversely, Killers seek impact and assertiveness through confrontation or influence. They don’t shy away from tension, sometimes provoking it to assert an idea, a vision, a presence. Whether they bring people together or dominate, both leave their mark on their environment. Their motivation is not personal advancement or inner discovery, but the effect they have on others. Through connection or

Use a pacman like game for your company!

Use a pacman like game for your company! Game 6 March 2025 Instagram Linkedin Mathilde Pottier Designer & Founder Sometimes, an idea is born from a banal detail. An everyday object, a mechanical gesture, a fleeting image. In 1980, at the height of the video game boom in Japan, a designer came up with a game that went against the prevailing trends. No war, no shooting, no destruction. Just a round shape, an open mouth and a maze to navigate. The result? A game with a cult following, instantly recognisable, easy to learn and surprisingly deep. Behind its bright colours and apparent ease lies a mechanic based on avoidance, suspense and the right moment to grab. You know this game. But maybe you don’t know how far its logic goes and what it says about us. Beyond the screen, a whole behavioural grammar is being invented – a way of thinking about movement, failure and anticipation. The rest is a matter of trajectories. From a pizzeria moment to a worldwide famous game From the pizza to the phenomenon In 1980 in Japan, Toru Iwatani imagined a different kind of video game. In an era dominated by war simulators and shooting games, he wanted to create a non-violent, accessible, almost playful experience. The idea was born in a pizzeria: looking at a missing slice, he drew an open circle. It would become Pac-Man, a creature hungry for chewing gum, in a colourful maze. The concept is simple, but the gameplay is based on a mechanic of avoidance: running away from ghosts, learning their routines, exploiting their AI’s weaknesses. Pac-Man doesn’t attack; he avoids. This reversal of the rules of the game set the standard. With its clear rules, bright colours and progressive difficulty, the game appealed to a much wider audience than the usual arcade crowd. It became a global phenomenon, a pop icon and a model of intuitive design. Forty years on, Pac-Man remains a symbol of intelligent play in all its simplicity. Pinky, Blinky, Inky and Clyde Behind the apparent simplicity of Pac-Man lies a game of cross behaviour, where each ghost imposes a different logic. Blinky, the red one, pursues Pac-Man relentlessly. He doesn’t deviate, he doesn’t bluff: he is the embodiment of constant pressure, the pressure to flee without respite. Pinky, the pink one, is more subtle: it anticipates the player’s trajectory to catch him from the front. He forces you to change your strategy, to think against yourself. Inky, the blue one, is the most unsettling: unpredictable, he combines the movements of Blinky and Pac-Man to create chaotic behaviour. All the player can do is adapt. Finally, Clyde, the orange one, gives a false impression of calm: he seems to run away, then suddenly comes back. He is the enemy who punishes overconfidence. Together, these four figures turn each section into an exercise in reading, reflexes and anticipation. The labyrinth is fixed, but the pieces are alive. The roles’ inversion In the world of Pac-Man, escape isn’t the only option. Hidden in the corners of the maze, four PAC-Gummies offer a temporary alternative: role reversal. For a few seconds, Pac-Man stops being prey and becomes the hunter. The ghosts flee, vulnerable. But this power is fleeting. Used badly, it saves nothing. Too soon, it’s wasted; too late, it’s gone. The player must, therefore, learn to read the map, anticipate enemy movements and activate this resource at the right moment. This simple mechanism creates a constant strategic tension: every Pac-Gum becomes a promise of survival… or a mistake in timing. This principle isn’t just for fun: it echoes familiar human logic – waiting for the right moment, taking a calculated risk, exploiting a temporary loophole. In this way, Pac-Man becomes more than a game of reflexes: it becomes an exercise in clarity. The social avoidance Blinky: Fleeing from persistent problems In Pac-Man, Blinky is always there. He follows relentlessly, without diversions. He’s the embodiment of those recurring, familiar, but never resolved problems. In real life, some people adopt the same stance as Pac-Man when confronted with him: flee to keep their distance, keep moving to avoid impact. It’s a survival strategy, not a resolution strategy. We change rooms, subjects, activities – sometimes even cities or social circles – to avoid facing what keeps coming back. Like Blinky, these concerns don’t disappear. They adapt, reappearing elsewhere in other forms. Avoidance becomes a reflex. A simple example: a person who, when faced with a delicate question, deflects the conversation, mentions something else, or makes more jokes. This is not indifference, but anticipatory fatigue, a way of staying on the move so as not to be caught out. As in the game, it works… up to a point. Becca Tapert Pinky: the anticipation of behaviors to avoid traps Pinky doesn’t attack from the front. He anticipates. In Pac-Man, he doesn’t follow the player: he anticipates his trajectory and positions himself where he thinks the other player will go. This mechanism has an obvious echo in our everyday interactions. By anticipating other people’s reactions, we can often avoid conflict before it arises. In a debate, a tense discussion or even a negotiation, anticipating the breaking point, the offending word, or the tense tone can make all the difference. You don’t just adapt what you say, but how you say it, to whom and when. A common example: adjusting your speech in a meeting, modulating your vocabulary so as not to offend, and shifting a sensitive topic to avoid confrontation. As with Pinky, it’s not about avoiding the truth, it’s about choosing the most skilful route so that you don’t end up where you were going… too quickly. Inky and Clyde: Managing the unexpected and the illusion of control In Pac-Man, Inky is the one you can never really read. His behaviour varies and changes according to the situation, creating chaos where we thought we had a strategy. In our lives, it’s the unexpected: that one word too many, that sudden