I've taken to commuting by trolley. Circumstances being what they are, my living simply can't accommodate driving my own vehicle around the city, and I'm certainly not interested in straining my few friendships by bumming rides everywhere. My regular trip now takes about an hour one way, and even though it was nice to be relieved of the stress of driving myself places, I had started to get bored. I installed some small games on my phone, listened to music, and even considered bringing along a sketchbook (but ultimately abandoned the last idea as I was far too afraid of getting caught drawing a stranger like a creep), but their ability to distract me wore off pretty quickly.
One day, I noticed someone get on the trolley with a book in her hands. She was a tired old woman, her eyes were almond shaped and her face was weathered and scrunched up. As soon as she sat down, she propped open her weathered paperback and started thumbing through the pages, smacking her lips. huh.
"Can I help you?" the friendly, bearded clerk said as I walked by him. He and I both bumped into each other as we purposefully made wide berths around the 'New Romance' section of Barnes and Nobles.
"Err, no, I don't think so. Thank you." I smiled politely, somewhat dazed. Of course, I did need help, but the question on my mind was way too embarrassing to say aloud. "Yes, I want to start reading books again. Where do I start?"
I used to read all the time. A few years ago, when games weren't even a part of my life, books were there. I remember one day a rambling man on the trolley was explaining to a pretty terrified looking infant seated two rows away that if you lived a hundred life-times and read a new book every day, you still would only be able to read a fraction of all the books in the world. He might have been insane but I thought that was probably true. Even in a library two stories tall, I always managed to find something good to read--fantastic tales of swashbuckling mice and bloodthirsty pirates, coquettish maidens and thieves with hearts of gold. Spine chilling mysteries, curious characters, clues and page-turners. I used to know my way around the stacks; I used to comfortably spend all of my time in those worlds. But now I felt lost again. It's amazing to realize how much you've changed as a person in one instant, standing kind of flabbergasted in a tiny Barnes and Nobles. Another thing I did realize, though, is that I didn't want to outgrow books.
The Mysterious Benedict Society stared up at me from my lap, a Barnes and Noble receipt tucked behind the first two pages. The cover looked just as it had when I saw it a few years ago in a scholastic books catalogue. A cheerful, pastel yellow covered the paperback, along with an illustration of a lively stone house with children peeking out its windows and climbing along its walls. I didn't even remember what it was about, but I remembered it was the last book I ever wanted to read. The trolley had started to move again; it was moderately empty. I took a deep breath and flipped it open. Here goes nothing!
Three days later, I was curled up in a nook of my bed, nothing but a flourescent desk lamp beside me to cut through the darkness of the night. The phone charging at the foot of my bed read 1AM. The morning was going to be hell. It was going to be groggy and painful and involve a severe case of crankiness, but I didn't care. I just have to finish the damn thing. The yellow book I had bought earlier that week was clutched tightly in my hands, my thumb fingering the last few pages in anticipation. ten pages left, then five, then two, then one, then nothing.
I looked up from the book, and I could feel myself smiling; just smiling because I enjoyed it so much. I was half surprised to see the room around me wasn't just as it had been was I was in 5th grade. My cheeks hurt I was smiling so hard. I felt something lurch in the bit of my stomach. A beautiful piece of me that I had lost a long time ago had resurfaced. I'm back, she said, Did you miss me?
Friday, February 28, 2014
Ugh not another game idea.
So my trusty 'Ol computer has been down for another month. Thankfully, this recent misfortune is not nearly as miserable as the last; I've taken to getting in shape and reading in my spare time, and I've felt a real refreshing new surge of creativity. I like to jot down lots of new ideas as they occur to me, and a while ago I had one I was interested in sharing.
So I've been thinking lately about game anthologies.
This has been an emerging trend in video games, but I don't think it has fully explored its potential. Groups of game developers have on occasion come together to curate a collection of closely-related games, such as in Sports Friends, or the winners of a themed game jam. Single developers have also at times released a group of minigames they have made to be purchased in a bundle, but I've yet to really encounter much more of this, even though I believe this would be a wonderful exploration.
I like to imagine a group of developers who come together for the express purpose of making a series of closely related games based within a single theme or world. Each game would explore something different, but they would all be made to be consumed within one package. To only play one game would not be to get the entire experience; the point is to play all of them and critique them as a whole.
Example 1: GartenFlower (world connection)
Every game takes place in the world of GartenFlower. Most creatures are a plant-like species.
SmuggleBunnies: You're a band of ferocious pirate bunnies trying to get a shipment of tulip heads to the far east. A long journey awaits aboard your airship, you must also avoid the pumpkin policia and survive gangrene.
Sunlight: You're a young sapling trying to survive in a less than hospitable environment. Essentially, a growing simulator.
CactusRiot: play as an extremist protestor against the slaughter and consumption of your verdant brethren for fuel and construction. Smash pumpkin policia heads for justice.
Example 2: Blue (thematic connection)
Every game in this collection is about the color blue
Shades of depression: a poem-game about how people mistake depression for sadness.
Drop's Adventure: a single drop of water travels through oceans, rain, and rivers, going through a cycle of precipitation.
Blue Boy: A game about a boy who is blue and everybody hates him because that's weird.
This kind of project could even be undertaken by a single developer in a game-jam style; they pick a unique theme or have someone pick it for them (if they want the extra challenge) and he or she spends some time developing a handful of ideas that spring from that source, developing them (simultaneously?) to be released together. I hope some day in the future I'll be able to have the resources to do something like this.
A friend of mine on Twitter pointed out that Terry Cavanaugh did a chapter-based affair with some other developers in a way that resembled my idea. I've yet to play this Experiment 12, but it's probably worth mentioning. I may come back to this post later once I've played it and share my thoughts.
So I've been thinking lately about game anthologies.
This has been an emerging trend in video games, but I don't think it has fully explored its potential. Groups of game developers have on occasion come together to curate a collection of closely-related games, such as in Sports Friends, or the winners of a themed game jam. Single developers have also at times released a group of minigames they have made to be purchased in a bundle, but I've yet to really encounter much more of this, even though I believe this would be a wonderful exploration.
I like to imagine a group of developers who come together for the express purpose of making a series of closely related games based within a single theme or world. Each game would explore something different, but they would all be made to be consumed within one package. To only play one game would not be to get the entire experience; the point is to play all of them and critique them as a whole.
Example 1: GartenFlower (world connection)
Every game takes place in the world of GartenFlower. Most creatures are a plant-like species.
SmuggleBunnies: You're a band of ferocious pirate bunnies trying to get a shipment of tulip heads to the far east. A long journey awaits aboard your airship, you must also avoid the pumpkin policia and survive gangrene.
Sunlight: You're a young sapling trying to survive in a less than hospitable environment. Essentially, a growing simulator.
CactusRiot: play as an extremist protestor against the slaughter and consumption of your verdant brethren for fuel and construction. Smash pumpkin policia heads for justice.
Example 2: Blue (thematic connection)
Every game in this collection is about the color blue
Shades of depression: a poem-game about how people mistake depression for sadness.
Drop's Adventure: a single drop of water travels through oceans, rain, and rivers, going through a cycle of precipitation.
Blue Boy: A game about a boy who is blue and everybody hates him because that's weird.
This kind of project could even be undertaken by a single developer in a game-jam style; they pick a unique theme or have someone pick it for them (if they want the extra challenge) and he or she spends some time developing a handful of ideas that spring from that source, developing them (simultaneously?) to be released together. I hope some day in the future I'll be able to have the resources to do something like this.
A friend of mine on Twitter pointed out that Terry Cavanaugh did a chapter-based affair with some other developers in a way that resembled my idea. I've yet to play this Experiment 12, but it's probably worth mentioning. I may come back to this post later once I've played it and share my thoughts.
Friday, February 14, 2014
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