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DJ Stacks shares his secrets for success

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Breaking into the music industry is no easy task. Just ask Staten Island legend DJ Stacks; he’s been on the scene since the age of 12, when he started making and selling mix-tapes around New York City. Today he’s a resident DJ at celebrity clubs like 1Oak, Tao and Up & Down, has a regular spot on HOT 97’s Radio Mixshow and is a member of the Heavy Hitters, an exclusive DJ organization. We sat down with the rising music star to find out his secrets for success.

Promote yourself

 In the music industry, name recognition is everything, which is why DJ Stacks was out every night, distributing his mixtapes to security guards, club managers and anyone who would listen. “Sometimes I’d be outside a club and I would see a celebrity walking in so I would give a mixtape to their management,” he said. “Even on my nights off, I would still go out because I wanted to show people that I was motivated. I was hungry.”

Networking is key

 “Over the years, there are a lot of celebrities and people that I’ve built a relationship with just because they kept seeing me at the same club every time they went,” he explains. However, he stresses the importance of being respectful and understanding people’s boundaries. “It’s all about how you approach people, because if you approach people in the wrong way, you’re gonna be remembered in a bad light.”

Choose your circle wisely

 The phrase “it’s all about who you know” is a cliche for a reason. “You always want to make sure you’re surrounded by people that motivate you and have the resources and tools to help you make more connections and grow further,” he explains.

Always be available

According to DJ Stacks, he never turned down a gig. “I was always available. If promoters called me I would always say yes, because then it puts the pressure on me to fit it into my schedule,” he says. Promoters will remember your work ethic and are more likely to hire you again.

Show dedication

“I was always on time,” he says. “You have to show how much you want it. You have to be dedicated and you can’t complain. Many who complain will be replaced because there is always somebody else willing to do the same thing better and stronger than you,” he says.

Take risks

 When DJ Stacks was first offered an assistant position at HOT 97, it meant giving up his job deejaying at a local restaurant that was his main source of income. Although it was a huge financial risk, it had the potential to open up other doors for him, and it paid off. He’s been at HOT 97 for 10 years now, and on-air for five.

Never Take Anything Personally

 According to DJ Stacks, perseverance is key in the music industry. It took him almost five years before he got his foot into celebrity clubs. “There were times they didn’t want to hire me. There were times they didn’t know who I was. There were times that the doorman wouldn’t let me in,” he says. “But I never took it personally. It actually motivated me.”

Rosario is from New York and has worked with leading companies like Microsoft as a copy-writer in the past. Now he spends his time writing for readers of BigtimeDaily.com

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Lifestyle

The Future of Youth Horror Gaming: Lonely Rabbit’s Midnight Strikes

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Credit: Lonely Rabbit

Empty hallways echo with footsteps that aren’t yours. The carnival rides spin without passengers. Familiar spaces, the ones etched into childhood memory, twist into something menacing, something that watches. Lonely Rabbit’s Midnight Strikes arrives eight months before its completion, targeting a youth horror genre that is hungry for experiences that feel personal rather than purely fantastical. The indie studio searches for a publisher while building momentum for a game that weaponizes nostalgia, turning high schools and carnivals into theaters of psychological dread. As franchises age and audiences demand fresh scares, this PC title tests whether memory-based terror represents the next chapter in youth horror.​

Maturing Past Jump Scares

Youth horror gaming shed its training wheels. Little Nightmares and Bendy and the Ink Machine proved that younger players crave atmospheric storytelling over cheap shocks, puzzle-solving over gore, and visual distinctiveness over recycled formulas. Bendy’s ink-soaked corridors attracted a massive audience, including children drawn to the characters despite the T-rating, because the experience felt emotionally authentic rather than condescending. Players now expect psychological tension woven through environmental details, stories told through decaying spaces, and cryptic objects scattered across levels.​

The genre’s maturation reflects audiences who grew up solving Portal’s test chambers and exploring Limbo’s monochrome nightmares. Among the Sleep demonstrated the potency of perspective: experiencing horror through a toddler’s eyes made familiar domestic spaces feel uncanny and threatening. Fran Bow plunged players into hand-drawn asylum corridors where perception itself became unreliable, where puzzles demanded engagement with trauma and grief rather than simple pattern recognition. Modern youth horror respects its audience enough to disturb them thoughtfully, creating experiences that linger days after the screen goes dark.​

Corrupted Childhood as New Territory

Midnight Strikes drags players through levels “reminiscent of their childhood memories”: the high school, the carnival, spaces universal enough to feel personal. Lonely Rabbit constructs what they describe as a “menacingly beautiful atmosphere filled with bizarre and terrifying creatures,” pairing monster survival with puzzle challenges that prioritize mood over mechanics. The game adopts a “cinematic and otherworldly feel” while grounding its terror in locations players actually inhabited, making fear feel intimate rather than abstract.​

This memory-based direction distinguishes Midnight Strikes from fantasy settings that dominate youth horror. Deserted carnival rides and empty school corridors carry weight because players recognize them as such. Maybe the locker rows feel too narrow, maybe the Ferris wheel groans with a voice that shouldn’t exist, maybe the cafeteria smells wrong. The game challenges players to “survive their fear of the unknown” while navigating spaces that should feel known, creating cognitive dissonance that amplifies dread. Other developers exploring similar territory, such as Subliminal, which utilizes “nostalgic spaces” and “a rotting feeling that something is not quite right,” suggest that childhood corruption represents an emerging subgenre.​​

Lonely Rabbit’s approach weaponizes personal history. Every player attended school, visited carnivals, and formed memories in spaces designed for safety and joy. Corrupting those spaces turns nostalgia into a threat, asking audiences to confront distorted versions of their own experiences. The monsters inhabiting these environments become more than obstacles; they represent the fear that familiar places might betray us, that memory itself becomes unreliable when shadows move in the wrong direction.​

Smaller Teams, Bigger Risks

Indie studios like Lonely Rabbit maneuver where larger publishers hesitate. Their two-month publisher search and pre-launch community building reflect changing pathways for games that defy established franchise formulas. Building a follower base before release creates market validation, proving that audiences want what you’re making before significant capital is committed. Transparency about development timelines and production milestones generates audience investment, turning potential players into advocates during the publisher search.​

Midnight Strikes represents creative gambles major studios avoid when quarterly earnings loom. Smaller teams experiment with concepts, corrupted childhood spaces, memory-based horror, pand sychological tension prioritized over action mechanics, that might fracture focus groups but resonate with underserved audiences. Lonely Rabbit’s global distribution ambitions demonstrate indie confidence: build something distinctive enough, and geography becomes irrelevant when digital storefronts erase borders.​

The next eight months determine whether Midnight Strikes defines a subgenre or remains an interesting experiment. If players respond to horror that mines personal history, if corrupted nostalgia proves more terrifying than fantasy monsters, other developers will follow this path. Lonely Rabbit’s gamble, that childhood spaces make better horror stages than alien planets or demon dimensions, could redefine what scares young players next. The studio’s publisher search tests whether the industry views memory-based terror as the future of youth horror or a niche curiosity. Either outcome writes the next page in a genre still learning what it can become.

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