Blog Reboot
It's possible you read my previous stuff on my firstname lastname dot com. It was expensive and wordpressy, so I shut it down.
At time of writing I have all the old pages backed up, and I've ported a few to this place. I don't know if I'll port anything else.
--
I do hate my old writing. In weird ways, like I don't with my old art.
I don't want to be like that anymore: too academic and masked, like I'm writing to an audience I expect to eventually build.
I wanna yell into the void. have punctuation be optional, and have nobody ever read this.
i want to get mad...
post black bile.
and then reel it in...
and the only ones reading this will want to know what I am.
--
Backloggd (a terrible place) has been a nice outlet for short reviews, so I'll probably be putting that in a link row on the home page.
--
will I write eco-reviews again? probably not. I don't really like reviewing anymore, or videogames, or keeping up with a series for arbitrary reasons.
not liking videogames... that's something I could definitely vent about, and sketch up a lot of form-related talking-shop thoughts along the way.
--
I'd like to write from a developer's perspective more. Stephen Gillmurphy is an inspiration (also here): an accomplished developer that has a lot of writing about games- not too common! and if you are thinking this sounds like a unicorn, get this: his games are good!!
he's way smarter (and funnier) than most people (especially me) to boot.
--
I am not quite as young as I was, but I haven't finished a game in like 7 years. (pushing down the dark thoughts now).
It sucks, but... the years have been productive. I have more brewing in here now than that frustrated dreamer in 2020. I've developed artistic skills and preferences and wisdom on letting go and a cogent realization of precious time and how to be workmanlike sometimes and get the scene done and I've endured so much pain and frustration and dead ends and cycles and cycles of self-acceptance and self-doubt and remaking and rewriting until I shriveled up in a little ball all burned up and gasping for air and agonizing for it to be over but it's never over and I just had to stop worrying and I just can't stop going I guess so I did and a lot of those thoughts are going away (perhaps they never will) and I'm just doing boring old work now (and it's pretty good!) and that's pretty much Nirvana as far as I'm concerned.
I don't know. some fucking neurotic weirdo like me out there needs to hear what I've learned. I wish it was there for me, back then, that you could make Friends on the internet that can actually help each other out, but maybe this is the next best thing.
and I'm onto some really interesting things: colors, design language, writing. I just can't make myself talk about it until I feel like I've earned it by putting a bow on and walking away.
--
I realized on cohost I don't like posting at all... so I don't.
I never post about what i'm doing. and it's great. I put my nose to the grindstone and work, unless I don't feel like it.
nobody likes my images - because I do not post any. I do not worry about followers - as I have none. the game is not going to sell any copies or make any money and it doesn't need to.
I don't have to post "I just put the finishing touches on this character and this scene is looking great! (gif)."
"Here is [title], my [popular art]-inspired [genre]-game where you talk to a seriously depressed woman after an uncomfortably long hike. Wishlist now!!!"
"What is you favorite blue art?"
I don't have to post several times a week beg for fucking Wishlists like a worm or cut any tiktoks or think about any fucking Player when I'm making my game and anyone who finds it and gives a hoot can keep it to themselves deep down in their heart and send it into the world again when they die or if they tell other people it'll be ones who will actually like it.
true creative freedom. true light at the end of the tunnel.
--
lots of thoughts on this game... I write them down in my journals. it is really the worst possible thing to try making: a sad, structureless thing that came from a dark time. impossible to write and still wriggles under my keyboard and changes shape as I do art passes on finished scenes. when I'm feeling thin I really hate it.
--
just a lot of boring work left. enough work to be bored with it: to sigh when I think about it while doing dishes and grind my teeth at night and look for help everywhere else but the editor. (it's more zen than it sounds like, I promise).
still, I beat the drum most weekends. If I worked on it as much as I ran away from it, it would be done by now, but it's coming... perhaps in the winter.
--