When I realised I could generate a script with ChatGPT, my mind exploded with possibilities. One idea gripped me almost immediately: creating an episode of Mr. Robot, one of my all-time favourite shows, but loosely based on the madness of my own life. I didn’t think it would actually work, but ChatGPT didn’t let me down. Before I knew it, I had tapped into what felt like the coolest script ever—well, by my amateur standards.

For months, I hadn’t made anything. I’d sit at my laptop, fingers hovering, mind blank. Then I met AI.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve been tinkering with computers. They’ve always been my tool, my outlet, my connection to the world. But nothing—nothing—prepared me for the moment I discovered AI. It wasn’t just a tool; it was magic. Pure, unadulterated magic.

The day I lost my passion for video gaming was like losing a part of myself—a hobby that had been a constant, a source of escapism, and pure joy. Or perhaps it didn’t die, but instead, it evolved. See, playing games with one hand after losing my arm was not just a physical challenge; it altered how I connected with something I loved. It became frustrating. Games I once dominated suddenly felt insurmountable. It was disheartening, especially with the looming excitement of GTA 6 on the horizon—a game I'd been looking forward to for years.