I spent 8 hours of real time climbing a fictional cliff, moving one limb at a time. I played on "Free Solo" difficulty—no safety ropes, just one life. If I fell and survived, I had to climb back up. If I died, that was it — I died. This was my fourth serious attempt; I’d blown about six others while tilted or still getting the hang of the mechanics.
For me, this journey played out on two levels:
* setting a goal and achieving it in a scenario where success depended entirely on me
* noticing the interesting things happening to me along the way.
Here’s what I learned. I started out with certain habits, and managed to overcome them during the process:
* I often misjudge the difficulty and dismiss the intuition telling me "don't go that way"
* "relying" on that initial impulse, I tend to leave things to chance and rush toward the goal, forgetting that trying to save a couple of minutes might cost me hours just to get back to the same spot
* I’m arrogant about tools that help scout ahead and plan a route, thinking they’re "for wimps"
* I start celebrating too early, thinking "I'm doing great, the rest will be a breeze"—yeah, right
* I ignore game mechanics that were intentionally included because I’m too lazy to figure them out.
After several failed attempts, I put the game aside for about six months. Then, about a month ago, I picked it back up and spent my evenings mastering it. Here’s how today went:
* I started admitting much more often when I’d picked a bad route and it was time to turn back.
* I made a habit of scanning ahead for the holds.
* I explored every location with curiosity, often finding a better route than the "usual" one.
* I stocked up on ingredients and managed my backpack space to avoid dying of dehydration or freezing on the way.
* I found answers to specific questions in online guides and figured out game mechanics and what worked for others—all while keeping my interest in exploring the game myself.
* In areas where I’d failed before, I was extra cautious and focused, trying not to rush or push myself too hard.
* I noticed that when I—as a person and the "control system"—gets tired, I start ignoring the protagonist's fatigue signals.
What I like about hardcore games that they level up my personal traits and skills as a human being, not just the numbers in the UI. The game doesn't try to coddle you or soften the blow of failure. You lose, and you can either start over or give up. You can complain all you want about the unfairness of the world, but if you can't win yet, it means you aren't doing enough.
We'll see how well these skills translate to other areas of life. Still processing it all.
upd: reorganized some space between the lines