I've read developer Jason Rohrer's account of the events that inspired his game, The Castle Doctrine, many times, in many places, leading up to its release. His family lived in a bad neighborhood. A dog attacked his wife during a family bike ride. He bought a club to beat away any other dogs that might threaten them in the future (a club that he'd later offer as a reward for an in-game contest). It's begun to sound like a mantra, imbued with greater significance through the act of repetition. Rohrer sought to probe the conflicted feelings that haunted him about the event--about his role as de facto protector of his family and his home. The Castle Doctrine is the game born of that narrative, and named after the principle of law that a resident is free to use deadly force on intruders.
That's a touchy proposition. Emotions swirl around the doctrine. It's bound to systems of economic and racial disparity, to prejudices and fears that are inherently irrational. Yet The Castle Doctrine nimbly leaps that moat, and assumes a scenario in which a break-in is inevitable. You're given $2000, a vault to hide it in, and a pixelated nuclear family that looks on, expectantly, for you to construct a fortress. And you'd better do so, because a server's worth of other players will get a chance to invade the minute you step out the front door. They'll be coming for the cash you've left in your vault, and the only things standing in their way will be the walls, traps, and pit bulls that you've placed in between.