One day in 2008, out of the blue, Lucas Guimaraes' father announced they were headed to the theater to see the animated kids movie Madagascar 2. Going to the theater wasn't strange, but even at 13 years old, Lucas knew something was up when they got there 30 minutes ahead of time. But Lucas soon learned why things were off; the movie was meant to soften the blow about a secret his parents had kept for years: Lucas was undocumented.

Lucas, understandably, feared there was no future for him. That changed in 2012, when former President Obama used executive authority to create the Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals program (DACA), which provided legal protection for a narrow but sympathetic portion of undocumented immigrants. Specifically, if you met certain requirements—came to the US under the age of 16; were younger than 31 years old, as of June 15, 2012; lived in the US since 2007—you could be granted a two-year grace period from immigration action. It meant you could safely apply for a job, go to college—all things Lucas figured had been taken away, thanks to a secret his parents had kept from him.

Everyone I talked to for this story had one thing in common: games. Sometimes video games, sometimes tabletop games. But what bound them together was a sense of being thrust into the shadows of society, forced to hide themselves, and finding solace, hope, and even careers in games. While they waited for the world to change, they embraced games.

"I felt like I had done something wrong," he told me recently over email. "That the world was viewing me as a criminal. I broke into tears. I thought to myself 'Why am I being punished for trying to live a normal life? Was I going to be sent back to Brazil? Am I not gonna be able to be somebody? Do I have anything in my life to look forward to?' I thought about it the entire time and didn't even care for the movie that we were watching."

During the 2016 campaign, President Trump promised to end DACA on "day one." Instead, on September 6, 2017, Attorney General Jeff Sessions announced DACA would be repealed in six months, while granting anyone who currently qualified for deferred status to apply for another two-year extension. Various news reports suggested Trump was sympathetic to the plights of the 800,000 protected under DACA, but rather than protect it, he ended it and asked Congress vote on an alternative solution to become law. Now, the future of those who once relied on DACA is in the hands a body that's accomplished almost nothing in 2017.

Essentially, if you were a kid who came to the US because your parents brought you here, you had an option. Right now, 800,000 people are able to more fully participate in American society due to DACA. DACA was a band-aid solution to a broken immigration system that Congress has grossly ignored for decades, but a band-aid is better than an open wound.

The rescinding of DACA had forced the plight of immigrants to center stage, igniting protests all over the country, like this one in Las Vegas earlier this month. Photo courtesy of Getty Images

Lucas' identity feels trapped between worlds, all because his family, years ago, chose to escape a corrupt Brazilian government, low wages, high prices on goods, and a society where the powerful are never punished in by sneaking into the US. He didn't choose this.

( Reports suggest Trump has come up with a plan by partnering with Democrats, but as we've seen throughout 2017, Trump has a habit of changing his mind very quickly.)

"DACA gave me freedom," he said. "It helped me be somebody. I feel like I'm actually contributing to my family. I'm able to work and pay [for college] out of pocket, which I don't mind. I never thought I'd get a chance like that, even though I knew it was only a temporary solution."

Because his DACA status was recently renewed, he's got, in theory, a little under two years before he needs to worry about what happens next. Despite public statements by Trump and Sessions, he's not convinced the government will protect him, and he's become paranoid.

If Congress doesn't pass a DACA equivalent, it's unclear what his future holds. He could go back to Brazil, a country he doesn't remember, where you're forced to register for the military at 18. If he was forced back to Brazil, he could work at a bank as an English speaker—maybe. He could teach English—maybe. He's currently attending school for computer science because he wants to make games, and Brazil isn't part of that plan.

"I broke into tears. I thought to myself 'Why am I being punished for trying to live a normal life? Was I going to be sent back to Brazil?"

"People always say 'Go back to your country and come back the right way,'" he said. "What they don't understand is that we can't just sit there for years and wait it out. I understand that what my parents did was wrong. And I'm not asking for amnesty. I'm not asking to become a citizen at the stroke if a president's signature. I'm asking that this country allows me to show them that I contribute to this country, too."