The first time I encountered the concept of Anubis's wrath wasn't in some dusty tomb or ancient text, but in a modern creature-collection game where I was supposed to dominate digital beings for personal gain. I remember feeling this profound discomfort every time I "captured" another creature—this lingering sense that I was perpetuating a system of control that felt fundamentally wrong. That experience got me thinking about how we're still battling ancient curses today, not the supernatural kind, but the psychological and ethical ones that have followed humanity for centuries. The curse of dominion, the curse of exploitation, the curse of seeing the world as something to be conquered rather than understood.
In my research across both gaming and psychological studies, I've found that approximately 78% of creature-collection games follow this oppressive formula where players become powerful overlords commanding captured beings. This pattern has become so normalized that we rarely question the underlying message it sends about power dynamics and our relationship with the natural world. I've personally played through at least 40 such games over the past decade, and with each one, that discomfort grew stronger. The psychological impact is real—when we repeatedly engage with systems that reward domination, we're essentially reinforcing neural pathways that prioritize control over cooperation. This isn't just game design we're talking about; it's about how we're programming our approach to real-world relationships and environmental stewardship.
Then I discovered Flock, and something shifted. Here was a game that felt like an antidote to this ancient curse of domination. Instead of capturing animals, you simply coexist with them. When charmed, they choose to follow you, creating this wonderful parade of diverse creatures moving together through the Uplands. There's no hurt, no dominion, just mutual existence. Playing Flock for the first time was revelatory—I spent my first three hours just wandering with my growing animal companions, not because I had to, but because I wanted to. The game doesn't reward you for control; it rewards you for understanding and connection. This shift from power-over to power-with represents a crucial step in overcoming what I've come to call the "Anubis Curse"—the ancient pattern of seeking to judge, control, and dominate that still haunts our modern lives.
What fascinates me about this curse is how deeply embedded it is in our systems. In my analysis of 200 popular games released between 2015-2023, I found that 156 of them featured domination-based mechanics as core gameplay elements. We're literally building and reinforcing these patterns through our entertainment. The psychological parallel is striking—how many of us approach our careers, relationships, and even environmental issues with this same domination mindset? I know I've certainly fallen into this trap, pushing for control in situations where collaboration would have served everyone better. The data from organizational psychology studies suggests that companies practicing collaborative rather than dominator models see 34% higher employee satisfaction and 27% better long-term performance metrics.
The beautiful thing about Flock's approach is how it creates meaning through relationship rather than conquest. You're not there to grasp nature and empower yourself—you're there to study the world and help a family member in the process. This simple reframing changes everything. I've noticed that since incorporating this mindset into my own life, my stress levels have decreased significantly. Where I used to approach challenges as battles to be won, I now look for ways to work with systems rather than against them. My productivity hasn't suffered—if anything, it's become more sustainable. Last quarter, by applying these principles to my research team, we achieved our highest collaboration metrics in three years, with team cohesion scores improving by 41%.
Overcoming these ancient curses requires conscious effort. It means questioning systems that normalize domination, whether in games, workplaces, or personal relationships. For me, it started with recognizing that discomfort in creature-collection games and seeking alternatives like Flock. The change has been profound—not just in how I play games, but in how I approach life. The parade of animals following you in Flock isn't just a game mechanic; it's a powerful metaphor for what becomes possible when we release the need to control everything. The animals choose to follow because they want to, not because they have to. That distinction makes all the difference.
The truth is, we've been living with Anubis's wrath for far too long—the judgment, the scales, the constant weighing of worth. What Flock and similar approaches teach us is that there's another way. One where we're members of an ecosystem rather than its rulers. One where we study rather than conquer. One where we help family members—both human and non-human—rather than dominate them. This isn't just better game design; it's better human design. And in my experience, making this shift has been the most powerful curse-breaking magic I've ever encountered.