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I have worked for so many publications through the years—Complex, Vibe, Rolling Stone, British GQ, HuffPost, The New York Times, The Guardian, Essence, Ebony, and more—and I can say this has been one of the great experiences of my life, engaging with such a diverse and talented group of creatives.

For sure, editing THE GAME newsletter has been an incredible honor these past several weeks. This Issue number 8—and all 7 issues before it—has some really amazing writers, and I have learned so much just reviewing piece after piece.

This go round we have Cheyenne Van Cooten Brown penning a mini-autobiography that brought tears to my eyes, and I hope that she will one day turn her Brooklyn story into a full-fledged memoir. Anthony Smizaski reps in all ways for the nostalgia of the Millennial generation with a dope take on Nintendo, and how priceless fun is, especially in these times. Michael González riffs magically, like a throwback jazz master, on how to game the rules, and not let the rules game you. Billy Johnson, Jr. has written a beautifully honest reflection on his father and baseball and finding your own path, even if it is not what your parent envisions for you. And 10-year-old Sonny Herman gives us an excellent game review of Hollow Knight: Silksong, reminding me once more why it is such a joy that we have had a number of writers in the newsletter who are 15 and younger, with Sonny being the youngest so far. 

This is THE GAME newsletter, y’all! Play it, live it, read it, share it, subscribe to it, and enjoy, as I am every single week!

Kevin Powell, The Game Editorial Director, is a GRAMMY-nominated poet, humanitarian, author of 16 books, filmmaker, and writer of forthcoming biography of Tupac Shakur.

Have you ever wondered what life would've been like if you had been dealt a different “hand”? As a Caribbean and Puerto Rican woman who grew up in a low-income community in Brooklyn, I've often reflected on this question. What could life have been like if I had grown up in a better environment, with fewer struggles and greater access? Where would I be today? 

Society may say I’ve finally “made it,” but God knows how challenging the journey was—especially coming from Red Hook, the largest New York City housing project in Brooklyn. Survival mode was daily life for us, especially during the 80s and 90s crime era. Yes, there were fun times riding bikes and playing tag, but overall, it was rough. I can still remember the differences between where I lived, surrounded by black gates and next to a huge waste management center, compared to where I attended school, in a middle-class neighborhood with tree-lined blocks and red brick homes. It was like night and day. Although it made me feel uncomfortable at times, I learned how to navigate both worlds, but often wished I could stay in my safer day world. That experience became part of my motivation to pursue an education that would allow me to live in a similar community one day.

The hand I was dealt wasn’t easy, but it offered early opportunities to build resilience—long before I even knew what the word meant. I took my deck and played it as best I could, and thankfully, learned how to adapt to various situations, which later became a superpower. My life experiences also made me determined to break barriers and show my family and other young people who faced big obstacles what is possible. Every time I had a setback, I perceived it as a blessing or a lesson. Those chapters in my book of life were like a compass guiding me through life’s ups and downs. 

Through it all, my grandmother was my real-life superhero, even though she only stood at 5 feet 2 inches. She arrived in New York City at 16-years-old, not speaking a word of English, but she had wisdom and knowledge beyond her years from growing up in the campo (farms) of Vega Baja, Puerto Rico. That was her foundation. Growing up, she instilled in me a love for people, reading, and God. She read newspapers every morning and worked two blue-collar jobs (one was binding books at a factory) to help our mom make ends meet. Yet, she smiled through it all, encouraging my sister, brother, and me despite life’s challenges. Lessons and legacy that I carry with me to this day. 

I can still remember the joy I had when she bought us the Encyclopedia Britannica set (on a payment plan, of course). I read through those beautiful brown books just for fun (my mom did also)! I was curious and hungry to explore what could be beyond our four cracked, faded walls. I started dreaming about what my future life could be, and while doing this, I didn’t realize that reading all those books would later help me obtain college-level reading skills by middle school, and a core reason I would be able to succeed in life.

One of my granny’s favorite quotes was (even in her 80s), that “there is always something we can learn.” It took me many years to truly grasp how important a mindset like that can be in life, but I get it now. I miss her presence daily, but every day I strive to honor her sacrifices, knowing that I would not be where I am today without her. So I push forward, for my son, family, and our communities. Committed to living my ancestor’s wildest dreams, one day at a time.

Cheyenne Van Cooten Brown is a Tech Human Resources Leader, Speaker, and Certified Brain Based Coach. She has worked in startups, nonprofits, and Fortune 500 companies including working in Silicon Valley. She lives in Westchester County, NY with her husband and son and remains committed to empowering our next generation. 

I was damn near trembling every time the Holly Park Mounties took the field. I played shortstop. Most 10-year-old Little Leaguers would love being positioned right behind the pitcher, second in line for the action.

But that was not my calling.

I was terrified. Intrusive thoughts ran rampant in my mind: “What if the player at bat hits the ball in my direction? Will if it hit me in the face? Will I let the team down?” It was unbearable. I spent every moment on the field praying, “PLEASE! Don’t hit the ball to me.”

What I now understand is that I wasn't facing a fly ball; I was experiencing a precursor to my own version of P-T-S-D: Paralysis, Terror, Shame, and Definition. It was the sustained, internal trauma of waiting for the inevitable failure.

I did not want to play baseball. My father, a former star athlete, was our Little League coach, and he’d proudly recruited me as a bat boy when I was three. I didn’t have a choice.

I’ll never forget the day my nightmare came true.

The player at bat hit the ball directly to me. I caught it, tagged the runner headed to second, and threw the ball to first base, sending the batter to the dugout. My celebratory slow-motion fantasy—confetti falling, teammates cheering—shattered instantly. I had not noticed the man on third, who scored the winning run. I had failed.

I realized my teammates were not, in fact, cheering me on. A mob closed in, my dad in tow. The shouts of "You lost the game!" and "What were you thinking?" became a single, guttural roar that echoed the intrusive thoughts I had fought all summer. I had manifested this moment, and it felt as bad as I imagined. 

When my eyes met my dad’s, I found the audacity, for the first time, to say, “I QUIT!”

My dad never forced me to play another day. We never talked about it until 36 years later, 6 months before he passed. Dad let me know he did understand. In retrospect, I realized that teaching me how to play baseball was one of the ways he was trying to teach me confidence and resilience, even if the lesson landed as trauma.

Billy Johnson, Jr., is the founder of Media & Repertoire and a former Senior Editor for Yahoo Music and contributor for Vibe, The Source, Entertainment Weekly, and The Hollywood Reporter. His handles are @BillyJohnsonJr and @MediaRepertoire

In recent years, I’ve found myself in the midst of what I’ve deemed my “Millennial Life Crisis”—working alongside my wife to look back, collect and consume the many moments of nostalgia that bring us back to simpler times and, most importantly, FUN.

One of the ways I’ve done that to great result is through the world of old school video games. Whether it be consoles or the games we played them on, reclaiming these classic touchstones of the past have been quite satisfying, to say the least. 

One of the strongest parts of this classic gaming renaissance has been the Nintendo 64. A truly unique console that struggles to be fairly compared against anything that came before or after it. I know many others of my generation have the same soft spot in their hearts as I do—bringing back memory after memory in the process.

As rosy a picture as this creates, achieving this is not always simple. Whether you are working with your childhood games from the attic or starting from scratch, N64 cartridges are not cheap. (Almost as much as they cost in the store 30 years ago—if you know, you know). Fortunately, modern-day technology and dedicated gamers have created a new way that doesn’t take away from the original experience…

Meet the Flash Cartridge. It goes by a few different names like Everdrive 64 and SummerCart 64. Basically, imagine a Nintendo 64 cartridge with a MicroSD card slot. This gives the capability for an all-games-in-one scenario! A few internet searches plus a new microSD card later, and you have every N64 game at your fingertips. Not to mention you’re still playing from the same original console you know and love.

What makes these modern-day features even more special is going beyond anything you could’ve played on the Nintendo 64 back in grade school. Look long enough, and you’ll find not only the ability to play emulated games from older game systems, but discover N64 mods! You want a version of Goldeneye 007 with Mario characters instead? Someone made it. Want an improved version of the greatest wrestling game of the time in No Mercy Plus? It’s out there. Want to play Mario Kart 64 with horror movie characters, for some reason? You can!

This method may not be for everyone. A bit of dedication may be necessary (or an expansion pack). I will say however that following this path has led to superb results while not breaking the bank. 

Reliving classic N64 memories (while making a new one) with loved ones has been one of the most rewarding parts of the year. Whether going about it my way or another, it’s truly worth it. Seeing the joy it has brought others has reminded of my wife and I that this little nostalgia hobby isn’t just for us.  A “Millennial Life Crisis” seeking simpler times can truly bring those fun feelings to the present.

Anthony Smizaski is a radio and podcast producer from New Jersey—primarily producing content for Pulitzer-Prize winning journalist Karen Hunter for the past decade.

We borrow the language of games to explain what life keeps trying to teach us. One minute we’re “in the fourth quarter,” chasing a comeback; the next we’re told, “Do not pass go.” Look around lately and it feels like the board has been flipped, turned upside down—rules changing, players scrambling to find their place, pieces sliding in every direction before we can catch our breath. Some days you feel like you could run a Boston Marathon; other days it’s Uno—a sudden red reverse, a blue skip, or that dreaded draw-four that leaves you wondering how to play the hand you’ve got. We use those phrases because they feel true. Life is a board that tilts when we least expect it. We’re all playing on the same board, even if the stakes look different from seat to seat. No matter how carefully we plan our moves, the rules have a way of changing mid-play—and maybe that’s the point. We’re meant to keep learning how to play again.

And when the next spin comes—because it always does—it rarely lands where we expect. Sometimes it’s a job that changes overnight; other times it’s something closer to the heart—a shift in health, a relationship that drifts, or a moment that makes us wonder where we fit in the larger picture. It’s the part of the game no one rehearses for—the hush between what was and what’s next. We don’t get playbooks for this part—just the quiet, the questions, and the hope that we’ll find our footing again. The plans we held tightly—the titles, routines, even the sense of identity—can start to feel like play money, bright but uncertain in value. And in that stillness, the game asks something deeper of us: not more luck, but more grace, more steadiness, and a willingness to stay and play.

The old board game The Game of Life starts with a single spin that decides your path—college or work, family or fortune, risk or rest. As a kid, I loved how quickly everything could change with that one flick of the wheel. I used to play it with my cousins around the holidays, all of us wondering aloud what our lives might look like when we got older—which jobs we’d have, how many kids would fit in those tiny plastic cars. I didn’t realize then how true that would be outside the board. In real life, we’re still spinning—choosing directions, making plans, hoping the next turn brings better news. And even when the wheel lands somewhere unexpected, we learn that progress isn’t about speed or luck. It’s about how calmly we steer the car, how kindly we treat the passengers, and how much grace we carry on the ride.

I’ve learned that the rules don’t stop changing just because we finally understand the game. Life keeps shuffling the deck, spinning the wheel, moving the goalposts—and still, we play. I’ve had seasons when I thought I was out of moves, only to realize I could still roll the dice and start again. Maybe that’s the quiet gift hidden in all the chaos: each round is another chance to show up differently, to lead with a steadier hand, and to keep grace in the mix.

The game will keep moving—and so will we.

Not chasing certainty but choosing meaning every time it’s our turn to play.

And maybe that’s how we win—not by finishing first, but by refusing to fold.

Michael González is a corporate leader, mentor, and writer whose work bridges leadership, community, and faith. He explores adaptability, grace, and purpose through the lens of lived experience—how we keep showing up, even when the rules of the game change.

In the latest addition to the beloved sub-genre of Metroidvania games—Silksong—the sequel to the acclaimed Hollow Knight does not at all disappoint. Following in tradition of the genre, Silksong presents the player with a vast map of connected but non-linear areas to explore, and new and exciting key items to collect that give you access to those areas. Another defining staple is the use of NPCs (non-player characters), which in the Hollow Knight universe have a wide variety of personalities and emotions, and can give you side-quests to complete to gain rewards and helpful items. My personal favorite of these is a quest to find and return the fleas—a fond throwback to the grub father quest in the original game. Both sets of bug characters are overpoweringly cute.

Speaking of throwing back…when you’re an extreme fan of a game, and you find out that a sequel is being released, you get a special sort of excitement, and a different set of hopes and expectations than you would for a brand new gaming experience. Primarily, you hope for fun, unexpected references and extensions of the first games’ lore ( backstories, events, and rules that provide meaning beyond the main plot, making the game’s world feel more real ). Silksong was more than I could ask for. 

Silksong continues the breath-taking and unique artistic style of the original game, which is unsettling and dark yet somehow soothing, with high-contrast gradients, glowing light, and sophisticated use of both line work on the characters, and a more three-dimensional design approach on the backgrounds. It feels like most areas are dark places that are being magically and surreally illuminated, and have floating particles. The overall contrast and intensity of the lines has been enhanced since the first game. 

In Silksong you play as “Hornet,” who appears in the original Hollow Knight, first as a boss you must defeat, and then later as a friend who helps you defeat the second-to-last boss. Your main weapon of attack is now a needle (previously a nail) that you can upgrade to cause more damage. Bounding around the areas, you can strike enemies, or pogo (bounce) off of them, gaining a little bit of “soul” to heal (called focusing). “Soul” is a measured/metered force that you accumulate that can later be used to unlock a variety of abilities, my favorite of which allows you to slide up and down walls and surfaces. Much to my delight, I found a new way to gain soul in Silksong. You have a cocoon you can strike that gives you a small amount of soul, which spawns next to you when you lose a life.

When an enemy is defeated, he also leaves a small amount of currency that allows the player to purchase “tools” for small to large gameplay enhancements. There are 2 kinds of currencies—one called shell shards (that most enemies provide) and rosaries. This is a new introduction and a departure from “charms” which served the same function in the original game. 

I think that any fan of this genre of gaming will be thrilled with Silksong…especially for the price. There has been a great deal of commentary in the gaming community on how significantly under-priced this game is, and after playing it, I totally agree. With the increasingly hard parkour, more difficult bosses, enhanced physics and artwork, this game is an absolute victory as a sequel, and as a standalone experience. I highly recommend this game as it gives you so much for your money. Even though I have not yet defeated the final boss (which I am dedicated to doing), I still can confidently give it 9.5 out of 10.

Sonny Herman is a 10-year old gaming and culture enthusiast with a massive sense of humor only matched by his moral compass. He values relationships in the utmost, which he says is the core reason he loves to game—to have fun with his friends.