In Spring 2024, I competed in the Ubisoft Game Lab Competition in Montreal, QC — the largest in its history. With returning champions from the previous two years and Ubisoft veterans as judges, we knew we weren’t just making a student game. We were building for an audience of AAA developers, and the bar was set sky-high.
Our team of 8 set out to create something unforgettable: a non-Euclidean exploration game with online multiplayer, AI integration, and a synchronous mechanic that impacted players across sessions. The theme? “Dream.” The constraints? Ambitious. The timeline? Ten weeks. And for extra challenge? Most instructions were presented in French.
We were here to compete — and ready to be forged under pressure.
Our objective was to deliver a narrative-rich, awe-inspiring experience that bent the rules of space and reality. We wanted to create something that would stand out not only in gameplay — but in identity.
We began by throwing ideas on the wall — sometimes literally. Concepts ranged from a Long-Distance Relationship Game to a Biblically Accurate Kart Racer. Every idea had strong identity, but none fully clicked — until a teammate shared a hand-drawn illustration.
It was surreal, dreamlike, and full of mystery. Immediately, the team locked in. That night, we stayed in the classroom until dawn, brainstorming and world-building. From that spark, our game was born:A Non-Euclidean Exploration Puzzle Game — think Portal 2, but stranger. A world where players could walk on walls, ceilings, and across space-warping doorways while chasing a mysterious narrative thread.
We built the entire experience around three core pillars:
These principles guided every gameplay and level design decision we made — ensuring the experience felt dreamy, yet deliberate.
.gif)
As the Primary Level Designer, I was responsible for crafting a world that would push our dreamlike mechanics to their limit — and deliver the emotional and mechanical payoff we envisioned.
The level had to make players feel lost and curious, but always moving forward — balancing mystery with momentum. To achieve that, I implemented two key techniques:
.png)
The level layout was built to circle back on itself, creating the illusion of open-ended exploration while maintaining full control over pacing. Every “wrong turn” brought players to a familiar landmark, helping reduce disorientation while still fueling curiosity.
To direct progression, I implemented One-Way Wells — paths players could drop into but couldn’t climb back from. These design moments locked players into scripted, linear sequences where we could control interactions, story beats, and pacing with surgical precision.
With these principles in place, I built the final level blockout — a fully playable space that showcased:
Every piece of the level was tuned to highlight our unique mechanics while reinforcing the surreal tone of the experience.
Although we didn’t walk away with every award (our team will forever claim we should have), we were honored with a nomination for Best Technical Innovation and left a powerful impression on Ubisoft’s panel of judges.
Players, students, and developers alike praised the game for its immersive feel and ambitious design — especially the level, which often left players wide-eyed and smiling as they explored.
Even with the language barrier, that reaction — that moment of awe — became our biggest reward.
This experience changed how I approach game development. Designing under extreme pressure, across language barriers, with high-stakes criteria — all while pushing a technically ambitious idea to completion — taught me what it means to lead a design with confidence, structure, and empathy for the player.
We didn't just build a level.
We built a dream.
.png)
.png)