Alexander Bruce delights in watching people play Hazard. I asked him how to solve a puzzle, and he declined to comment, merely taking note of my failed attempts to pass a tricky section. When another writer played after me, I understood Bruce's reaction: watching how people interact with the game and how they learn to play it is part of the fun. This is a game that changes every mechanic you've become comfortable with during your time in gaming, and it forces you to learn a new way to think.

"Space in the game doesn't really work the same as normal space," Bruce tells me the first time I miss a jump. You have to walk across the chasm, and at one point you actually have to fall in order to pass through a section. A hallway appears endless and begs you to choose two paths, each with a different color. I second-guess myself, wondering what the colors mean. One passage goes up, the other down. Does red mean danger? Or does Bruce think that I'll think that? The correct answer to the puzzle is to walk backwards.

"I couldn't compete with big-budget games, so I had to create something that was out there, that people haven't seen before, and I can do that really well," he explains. The game uses non-Euclidean spaces, so the laws of physics don't apply in any way.

"All the psychological stuff is what's interesting to play. Since it's so different there is a joy in exploring. Like kids climbing a tree, just to see what's up there."

Bruce talks about coming to America, and how it was very much the same as Australia, whereas traveling to Japan was like visiting another world. He marveled at how alien even a grocery store looked to him.

That concept comes to life in Hazard. The mechanics you use to solve each puzzle are slowly taught to the player, and there's no real way to die. In fact, the game uses a sort of Metroidvania structure, where new ways of playing unlock new areas to explore. Bruce tells me that there is, in fact, an ending, but no "right" way to get there. You simply explore, think, react, and adapt. New ideas come at you so fast, and your mind is played with in so many ways, that you'll begin to realize just how standard most first-person titles have become over the years.

Bruce says that he's speaking to Sony about a PlayStation Network version of the game, but he seems uninterested in the commercial aspects of what he's created. What he delights in is watching new players explore the world he has created. Despite my first impressions, it's a warm, welcoming world that wants you to come in, take a look around, and explore.

The game is three to six months away from launch, and Bruce admits it's nearly impossible to market. "The game is what it is, people find it really interesting and fun, and my main strategy is competitions."

He's made best-of-E3 lists, and he's placed in or won a number of indie competitions. But what he cares about most is the game world itself. "I'm still figuring it out and... why are you running backwards so far? You've just found a new area and now you went back ages!" he says. He scrunches up his eyebrows, and I explain what my thoughts were, and why I was walking backwards. His face opens up again.

"That makes sense!" he tells me. "I have to try to account for everyone playing it differently when I design these paths." I can tell he's making a mental note to adjust that section again.