I’d like to believe that under every Skype for Business conversation, there’s a sewer full of goblins.
“In a well-designed game, you see the outcome begin to emerge before the end of the experience. You know you’re low on food, you know your alliances are fraying, you know you’re a hair away from the end of the level, you know what might come next. It might be success or it might be failure, but it will make sense in terms of what came before.”
Somewhere, right now, an indie developer is about to do something tiny and casual that will alter the whole of gaming for the next 50 years. Possibly it’s you.
“What narrative structure do we see in games? Honestly, not as much as you’d expect… Games don’t yet have established formal constructs like chapters or poetic metre.”
“…when they found the narrow pass between two mountains, and breathed the astonishing scents that drifted from it, they thought their journey well worth it. Until of course, the bright angel with the terrible sword denied them entrance.”
I wonder if I and my heterosexual feminist principles are a blocker for good business decisions.
There’s a definite drive towards narrative excellence in our industry, but it’s the stories that have faith in their players’ intelligence – the stories that want you to connect the dots, rather than rendering gorgeous and definitive dots for you – that really lead the pack.
Nuka-World. It’s a bit like being an ocean tuna transported to a very nice aquarium. It’s chock-full of specially constructed tuna-tainment, but the coral’s all plastic.
The Caldecotts now live backwards.
It is a truth universally acknowledged that a gamer in possession of even a few RPGs, visual novels or Nintendo titles is likely in love with Japan.