When I was in elementary school, I drew a portrait of my mom with crayons for Mother's Day.
It wasn't good, to put it kindly. The eyes were different sizes, the hair was just scribbled over with a black crayon. The letter "a" in "Thank you, Mom" was written backwards.
But she cried.
Decades later, whenever I visit home, that portrait is still stuck to the refrigerator. Next to it hangs a nice scarf I gave her last year. I think she liked the scarf too. But it's the portrait that's on the fridge.
Skill Doesn't Matter
There's a fascinating psychology experiment.
Researchers showed subjects two gifts: a high-quality store-bought mug and a slightly lopsided handmade mug. When asked which one they'd rather receive, most people chose the handmade one.
And when asked why, nobody said "because it's well-made."
They said, "Because someone spent their time making it for me."
In other words, the value of a gift isn't in its quality—it's in the fact that someone was thinking about you while making it. It can be clumsy. It can be imperfect. "I made this for you." That's enough.
The Problem: We Stop Creating When We Grow Up
As children, we were all creators.
We folded origami frogs and showed them to friends. We drew mazes in our notebooks and said, "Try solving this." We built secret forts out of cardboard boxes. We made cakes in the sandbox.
Somewhere along the way, we stopped.
As adults, gift-giving means searching Amazon, reading reviews, adding to cart, and handing over whatever arrives. It's convenient. It's safe. But somehow, it feels hollow.
The reason is clear: we've convinced ourselves we have no talent.
Our drawings can't compete with professional illustrators. Our cooking can't match a chef's. Our DIY can't rival a craftsman's. In an age where everything is compared on social media, we feel embarrassed to give something "at our level."
But remember that crayon portrait.
Skill didn't matter, did it?
Signs That "Creating" Is Coming Back
Lately, something seems to be shifting.
More people are editing short videos on their phones for friends' birthdays. Some create photo collages from trips. Others make custom LINE stickers.
What they all share is a growing sense that "it doesn't have to be perfect."
In fact, a little roughness gives it that handmade feel. A slightly blurry photo booth picture holds more memories than a heavily filtered selfie. It's that same energy.
Just as photo booths transformed photos from "something taken of you" into "something you create with friends," the act of creating itself is becoming a form of communication.
The Day I Gave a Friend a "Game"
Recently, I gave a friend an unusual birthday present.
A game.
Not a Switch game I bought at the store. I made a one-of-a-kind game starring my friend as the main character.
My friend loves ramen, so I made a game where you collect ramen toppings within a time limit to build the ultimate bowl. I even added his cat as a hidden character.
"Wait—you made this for me?"
At first, he couldn't believe it. Then he started playing, and the moment he found the hidden cat character, he burst out laughing.
"This is amazing. How did you make it?"
I answered honestly. I can't code. I can't design. I have zero game development experience. I just described the game I wanted to make.
The Wall Between "Want to Create" and "Can Create"
Until recently, making a game required specialized skills. Programming, design, sound. Finishing even one game meant mastering multiple disciplines.
Even if you thought, "I want to make a game for my friend," if it takes months of studying, you'd just buy something on Amazon instead.
But now, that wall is disappearing.
The service I used is called DreamCore. You just describe what kind of game you want in a chat, and AI builds a browser game for you.
"A game where you collect ramen toppings." "60-second time limit." "Add a cat as a hidden character." Just talk naturally. The finished game can be shared with a single URL—just send it via message.
No coding required. No downloads. Free to start.
It Doesn't Have to Be Perfect
Of course, compared to a game made by professionals over months, the quality is different.
But remember that crayon portrait.
What matters isn't perfection. It's the fact that you made it for someone.
The moment my friend found the hidden cat and laughed—that was a moment no luxury brand gift could ever create.
For the next birthday, anniversary, or just an ordinary day:
Having "make a game as a gift" as an option isn't a bad idea at all.
DreamCore — Turn your dreams into games.
https://v2.dreamcore.gg