Starlight is, like many student games, unfinished, ideas tossed and stitched together in a desperate last-minute attempt to get something working. In that sense, its tower could be seen like that of Babels. This is no criticism in the slightest of our hardworking programmer, quite the opposite. They put an idea into flesh and blood on a program that was new to them, and made manifest ideas that were far too ambitious for the small team. That the program runs at all is a testament to their skill and determination, in spite of the foolhardy ambition of me and other more hands-off designers.
Still, there is something there, even in its embryonic form. Starlight was an attempt to make loss into a physical form, something to be climbed and overcome, but never discarded. As a young man who had suffered only the expected tragedies that come with any life, it was hubris certainly to attempt to make such a statement, and I can't claim I fully succeeded. Still, there was something magical about walking through a tower built from ideas I contributed to, to see ideas on the page becomes something a bit more tangible, to interact with entities built from collaboration on ideas we were all excited to try to explore. Hubris is merely the overextension of ambition, and though it can be blinding, and occasionally foolish, without striving in its direction we, and I mean the universal WE, would never have gotten anything done.
So build that Tower of Babel. It may fall, but in its tragedy we get the wonder of human language. And perhaps, that is worth more than what was lost.