There's one question Caballero won't answer. Well, technically a handful, if you count story spoilers or Minority's unannounced projects. But on-topic, he's hesitant to say his father's name. "I don't want to give that," he says with a nervous laugh.

When it comes to most other questions about his past, though, he shares without much prying - going so far as to invite these kinds of questions. I ask about his choice of frogs as the game's metaphor for alcohol, and he tells a story of how he explored the woods one day with his son, saw a frog, jumped and ran away scared, embarrassing himself in front of his child.

I ask about keeping secrets, and he tells a story about how he was taking the train one morning, looked up and got startled by a poster of a little girl with an adult finger to her lips saying "Shhh," noting that it reminded him of his past and issues with having to keep quiet about his father to the rest of the world.

At a certain point, it almost starts to feel like I'm playing the role of an armchair therapist myself, so I figure it's appropriate to present this part of conversation as it happened, with edits for context and to add-in follow-ups from a second interview.

Do you think this game will mean more to people who know you than to people who don't?

"Nah, no way. Of course, it's going to have a big impact on my family. For example, it's really fun because sometimes I can bring my kid to work and he's looking at theMonster mechanics, and I can play with him and the game and say, 'Hey, that's your grandfather.' [Laughs] It's really funny to be able to say that to your son, but I think the most important part of telling a story is that we learn through stories ... And the moment I had my kid and said, 'Look, that is your father,' I felt pride. It doesn't matter how difficult the story is. What is important is that it doesn't get lost and people learn from it. Of course, at this age he's not gonna get it, but when he gets older he's going to start understanding it. And I think it's gonna be invaluable for him when he gets older. I don't know. I imagine him being 15 years old, and saying, 'Oh yeah, my father did this game called Papo & Yo.' It will be really fun."

Does your dad approve of what you're doing?

"He's dead."

Oh, I'm sorry.

"Don't worry. I'm happy in a way."

I see. Was it a really bad relationship growing up?

"Yes. I think that the problem when you grow up with someone who has an addiction is you always want to save them. You think you can save them, and you always want to save them, but you just can't. And sometimes, knowing that my father died taught me to realize that I couldn't have saved him."

Do you think he would be disappointed that you're making this game?

"Of course he would! No one wants someone to say to their face, 'You're an addict. You're hurting me.' No father wants to hear that. I think the worst thing for a father to hear is for his son to tell him, 'You're a bad dad.'"

"THE CHARACTER'S GONNA BE WEAK, AND THROUGHOUT THE GAME ..."

In some ways, do you view creating this game as a form of therapy?

"I think you'd have to go to therapy before you could make this game."

Are you in therapy?

"Yes, I've been in therapy for a long time. Yes."

What does your therapist think of the game?

"I haven't asked him, but I'm sure he's gonna buy it. [Laughs] I talk a lot about the game in therapy."

Obviously that's a sensitive topic, but it strikes me as very interesting. If you're willing to mention it at all, can you say what kind of stuff you talk about there?

"There's like an analytic term - psychoanalytic therapy, like Woody Allen. You describe yourself, and then you talk and then you talk and then you talk. And then I use a lot of psychoanalytic concepts in the game that people will experience..." [For more on this topic, see sidebar lower right.]