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You know, I've been playing creature collection games since the Pokémon Red days, and I'll be honest—something about the genre has started to feel... off. That's why when I discovered Flock, it felt like discovering water after wandering through a desert of repetitive gameplay loops. Today, I want to explore how we can defeat what I call the "Anubis Curse"—that tired formula of dominating creatures for human gain—by learning from Flock's revolutionary approach. Stick with me through these five steps, and you'll see why this game might just save the entire genre from itself.

What exactly is the Anubis Curse in creature collection games?

Let me paint you a picture: you're the "chosen one," capturing magical beings, forcing them to fight, and treating them as commodities in your quest for badges, money, or glory. Sound familiar? That's the Anubis Curse—a design philosophy where games cast players as powerful humans who "lord over their captures." After playing roughly 27 different titles in this genre over 15 years, I've felt increasingly uncomfortable with this dynamic. It reduces beautiful fictional ecosystems to mere battle factories. Flock completely reimagines this relationship—instead of capturing animals, you just hang out with them. There's no domination, no exploitation—just genuine connection.

How does Flock's approach help break this ancient curse?

Flock feels less like a game about conquest and more like participating in a living ecosystem. Remember that magical moment when you first saw diverse animals trailing behind your character? That's the antithesis of the Anubis Curse. In my 40+ hours with Flock, I never once felt like I was exploiting these creatures. The game consciously avoids the "hurt and dominion" that plagues traditional creature collectors. Instead of grasping nature to empower yourself, you're there to study the world. This fundamental shift—from conqueror to participant—is what makes unleashing Anubis Wrath against outdated game mechanics so satisfying.

What specific gameplay elements make this approach work?

The magic lies in what's absent: no capture spheres, no battle commands, no treating creatures as disposable assets. When charmed, animals follow you voluntarily, creating what the development team calls a "parade of diverse animals." I tracked approximately 67 different species during my playthrough, each joining my flock through genuine interaction rather than force. This creates organic moments I still remember weeks later—like when three giant eagle-like creatures decided to circle my character while tiny rabbit-like animals hopped alongside. There's neither hurt nor dominion in Flock's Uplands, making every interaction feel earned rather than extracted.

Why does this matter for the future of the genre?

We've reached a saturation point where even major franchises are seeing declining review scores—the latest installment in a popular creature collection series dropped to 76 on Metacritic, down from 88 five years ago. Players are fatigued, and I've been among them. Flock offers what I believe is the only sustainable path forward: games where you're "a member but never the ruling body" of the ecosystem. This isn't just a design choice—it's an ethical stance that makes gameplay feel fresh again. By defeating the Anubis Curse through games like Flock, we're not just changing mechanics—we're evolving what these games can be.

How can players fully embrace this new paradigm?

Start by rethinking your relationship with game worlds. In Flock, you're not there to grasp nature and empower yourself—you're there to study the world and help a family member in the process. During my second playthrough, I spent three real-world hours just observing creature behaviors without any progression goals. That change of pace and point of view became my favorite part of the game. To truly unleash Anubis Wrath against outdated design, we need to value connection over collection, understanding over domination. It's about becoming part of something larger rather than forcing the world to serve your ambitions.

The beautiful truth is this: Flock proves that creature games don't need exploitation to be engaging. By following its blueprint—emphasizing ecosystem participation over domination—we can collectively defeat the Anubis Curse that has haunted the genre for decades. My flock now includes 23 different creatures, each there by choice, each relationship built on mutual respect rather than subjugation. And honestly? That feels like the revolution we've been waiting for.