Messages

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It was a joke.

Indenting isn't the problem here. It's not using enough brackets to group commands.

Code: ags

function oMonster_UseInv()
{
     if (cDanny.ActiveInventory == iGun)
     {
     DisplayAt(84,105,300, "Danny shoots the monster.");
     FadeObjectOut(oMonster, 100, 1);
     }
}

Add { } and it will execute the two lines in the brackets.

(Also, by my CRRRRAAAAAZZZY American time, you all have a while to finish up your entries!)

But here the sun's almost set zomg this is so surreal! My brain is exploding!

So it could be something like... Draculator II: Heart of the Swarm

We should make it a sequel to a non-existent original. With lots of references to things that never happened.

Lol that could be hilarious, make the player feel like they're really missing out on something good.

I can just see the help topics now *dream cloud above head*

Draculator I missing from database?
Help finding original Draculator?
Stuck on Draculator II... can't find Disk 1!!

[Topic: 'Forgotten']

Topic: 'Forgotten'
This month's guidelines were set by hedgefield:

Society moves so fast, it's inevitable some things are lost to the hands of time.

Create a game in which something has been forgotten.

Ideas to help you:

• An old lady struggles with Alzheimer's
• Construction of a Las Vegas casino desecrates an indian burial ground
• A kid is left behind when his parents go on vacation
• A faded star tries to make a comeback



Ending 30/6/2011



What is MAGS?

MAGS is a monthly competition for all amateur adventure game makers. The idea is to create a game in under a month, following the rules set by the previous winner. It aims to help you work to a deadline, improve your skills, or provide a kick-start into making adventure games. Regardless of skill, MAGS is for everyone. Voting is based on "favorite" games, and not the most artistic, or the best coded. If you have bad art skills, use it as a chance to do some graphic work. If you're sub-standard at coding, use it as a chance to give scripting a go. Ultimately, people will vote for the most enjoyable entry.

You may get help for the competition, although you must end up doing something yourself. You should however be warned that it proves difficult to organize a big team within thirty days. You are not allowed to use material already created before this competition. Your game must be completely new! Music and sound is an exception; you can use free material that is available to the public, if you wish. Modules and templates are also allowed. Please do not enter the competition with a rushed entry (a game created last minute). Sure, you can make a game and rush it - but don't do this just to win by default.

Entering MAGS is simple. First, conceptualise your game following the month's criteria (see top). Second, create your game fueled only by coffee. Third, finally, and most importantly, post your game here, including:

✓ A working download link.
✓ The title of your game.
✓ A suitable screenshot.

At the end of the month, the all-important voting will begin! This period usually lasts fifteen days. Should you win, along with announcing the next month's rules, your name and game will be immortalised in the MAGS Archive. Yet hopefully, at the end of the month, the accomplishment of finishing a game will be your greatest prize. For more information please visit the Official MAGS website.

Time to vote!!


Only joking. Thanks Ben I declare you winner.

[= sets]

Try this. Also, make sure you use the right amount of equal signs:

= sets, == checks

For example:

Code: ags

if (oFruit.Visible == true) Display("I'm checking whether Fruit is visible with two equal signs");

You should probably read up on some tutorials for AGS or for C-like programming languages in general.

Me or OP

[= sets]

Code: ags

function hFruitTree_Interact()
{

  if (oFruit.Visible == true) Display("There is no need to climb the tree.");

  else {
  Display("There is no need to climb the tree. Besides, there isn't any more ripe fruit to pick anyway.");
  }
}

Try this. Also, make sure you use the right amount of equal signs:

= sets, == checks

For example:

Code: ags

if (oFruit.Visible == true) Display("I'm checking whether Fruit is visible with two equal signs");


//player enter room, or whatever

oFruit.Visible = false; //Here I'm setting a variable because it's just one equal sign.

Notice also in my top code, you can shorten this

Code: ags

if oFruit.Visible = true; {
  Display("There is no need to climb the tree."); }

into this

Code: ags

if (oFruit.Visible = true) Display("There is no need to climb the tree.");

Because you don't need the extra { } if there's only one expression after the if statement.

[or]

Ah ok. How about putting an Outlaw in the lumberjack branch (no pun intended?), Robin Hood was the biggest tree-hugger of all time. Lumberjack goes to Woodsman or Outlaw then outlaw can go onto something else roguish (eg Exile, Pariah) while Woodsman takes the dignified route of Ranger. Other forest-themed classes I can think of are Hunters or Hermits.

I'd also recommend changing the name of pupil to apprentice. Pupil is associated more with children and apprentice implies wizardry in fantasy worlds.

Rangers would be more suited to the scout branch rather than the woodsman. Rangers typically travel light and can cross long distances quickly, although it is true they are versed in herblore (think Aragorn).

So why not scrap the lumberjack branch, merge it, or replace it for something else (ballistic is a good idea). If you're having trouble thinking of other classes it's already proving more trouble than it's worth. What you've got already is more than enough to be badass.

Happy yesterbirthday bici

[Rocky and the Sky Man]

Rocky and the Sky Man

(England WWII)

A few expeditionary rays of sunlight filtered through the mist on the farm. It was quiet, serene, and the air was heavy with the scent of rain. A breeze politely stirred the trees from their slumber, and in turn awoke the songbirds which filled the world with their music.

Ploughing through the browning meadow by the woods was Rocky, the farmer’s boy.

Rocky was simple. His features were large and he ambled along like a gorilla. Two teeth like spades stuck from his lips, and his eyebrow made a bushy black M across his forehead.

Although Rocky was almost seventeen and a scrubby beard sprouted from his chin, he had the mental age of eight; and everybody treated him accordingly. The children in the village were unsparing, and even Rocky’s own parents struggled to hide the frustrations of having a slow son.

Sometimes, after their tolerance was stretched, his parents would explode with anger, for not keeping up with the others in the field, or not finishing his chores, and the only thing Rocky knew to do was run away.

When he was far away, he’d try and try to comprehend his inadequacy in solitude. That morning was one of those days.

And Rocky had no friends. He carried along a grubby potato sack stuffed with ancient straw. Rocky had even named it, and his sister had sewed eyes and a mouth into it, a long time ago when she still lived at the farm. Like Rocky, it was always smiling.

Rocky came to a halt in the meadow when something caught his eye. There was a white thing tangled in one of the trees, like a giant flower. Rocky’s eyes lit up. He could just picture a giant passing by in the night and dropping a handkerchief the size of a ship’s sail. Then Rocky laughed. Somewhere there’d be a giant with a runny nose. He made into the forest to investigate.

It was cool under the trees, and in the rashes of sunlight danced English bluebells. Rocky caught the striking tail of a roe deer as it dwindled nimbly into the distance. He was jealous of how fast they could run, and jealous of their silky coats. They had a stag’s head mounted on the wall at the Royal Oak. Rocky once got up on a barstool and stroked it so hard one of the glass eyes popped out.

The offending tree was in the centre of a miniature clearing, so there was a doughnut of tall grass around it. In the branches hung the white burden like snow; now revealed to be a parachute, with its straps dangling to the ground like empty puppet strings.

Rocky crashed through the grass and gave the parachute a tug. It stood fast, and the branches shook irritably, sending leaves raining from the sky. He didn’t know what to make of it.

Of course, he’d seen parachutes before on test flights over the aerodrome, floating through the sky like giant dandelion seeds or baby air balloons. Rocky giggled as he threaded his arms through the straps and fastened the buckles. He closed his eyes and imagined soaring through the sky, excitably alone at 1000, 2000, 3000 feet… and at that moment he felt weightless!

Rocky opened his eyes only to stare back into the face of a man.

He suspended Rocky by his collar and shook him. There was a pistol at his hip. There was a look of desperation in his eyes. He looked exactly like the pictures of enemy pilots Mr Preacher gave presentations on at school. Mr Preacher always wore a tin bowl on his head stamped with the letters ARP.

All of a sudden, the man stopped shaking Rocky and he slumped backwards into the grass. He rested his elbows on his knees, and his head in his hands, and began sobbing like a lost child.

Rocky regarded the man curiously. He slowly unclipped himself from the parachute harness and joined him on the grass, hugging his sack fondly, not taking his eyes off him for a moment.

The man’s clothes were ripped and damp and dirty. For a while neither of them spoke; the silence did all the talking. And Rocky tried to render the situation. The man had now stopped sobbing, and instead gazed at the parachute, which gleamed brilliant white in the sun, and had the look of a man in conflict with himself.

Suddenly, a sound like thunder shook the woods and made the crows scatter in pandemonium... the man’s stomach had rumbled! Rocky and the man looked each other in the eyes, and then they both laughed. Rocky’s mum always said that an empty stomach was an unhappy stomach… she said that whenever she cooked up potato pie, at least.

With purpose Rocky leapt up like a deer, and without giving the man a backwards glace, raced to the village like he was running in the Olympics!

-

In the village were the mothers with their prams, and the children holding their hands. Rocky could see clearly the giant parachute in the tree like a splodge of white paint. He felt lucky it didn’t draw the attention of anybody else. For now, the strange man was his secret. He entered the green grocers past a queue of people clutching ration books.

From the crate he selected the biggest and juiciest apple. He spat on it clumsily and polished it on his grubby sweater. Then, without a care, he slipped the apple into his sack where it nestled in the hay. Rocky always stole things, but he didn’t understand the concept of property and besides, before his older brother got called up, he’d get Rocky to steal things for him all the time. It would have made no difference. Nobody noticed Rocky was there.

He just dashed out the shop when a girl stopped him. She grabbed him by the arm and pulled him to the shadow of a tree where two boys waited.

“Hallo Rocky,” she said. Rocky nodded his head once and looked to his shoes. He knew what happened next, because it always did. The boys moved into formation so Rocky’s back was pressed against the wall, and he slid down uncomfortably on the cobbles.

The girl bent down closely, with her hands on her knees and whispered poisonously into his ear: “Shame your brother isn’t coming home.”

Rocky looked up with his terrified eyes and shook his head defiantly.

“Don’t you believe it? Probably in a ditch with a bullet in his head, or torn to pieces by a grenade. That’s how they all go…” she looked casually at her nails.

Rocky remained mute. His head chugged like a tired steam engine.

“Your mother told me when you get called up, we’re going to have a street party and everybody’s invited. Cos Rocky, nobody wants you here and let’s face it, nobody likes you… the sooner you’re dead, the better it is for everyone.” The two boys cackled like hyenas.

Rocky suddenly shook with anger like a cornered wolf. It was now he looked like a man. He grew taller, like a grizzly bear rearing to its full height. He raised his log-like arms threateningly and the three children shied away. Then with a nervous but satisfied laugh they melted into the village.

Rocky gulped and concentrated on keeping his hands steady. He threw the sack over his shoulder and returned to the woods, brooding over the encounter, as he always did.

-

At the clearing, there was nobody there. The parachute had gone. There was no sight or sound of the man; Rocky remembered him sitting on the grass so vividly. He must have moved on, he must have taken down the parachute, and moved on.

Rocky took out the apple from his sack and flung it tearfully into the bushes. And he waited for the man to come back.

He waited for hours, until the sky grew ruby and the cloud bellies turned gold. He waited until the sky was studded with stars, and an owl hooted forlornly in the trees.

But the Sky Man was never coming back.

Spoiler

The Sky Man never existed.

[close]

Aren't cliches good because the reader makes the connection straight away? If you come up with some entirely new nobody will know it's supposed to be French :

Ah bonjour, you may call me Jean Claude. I think that, how you say... it is more in ze words than anything else.

Mayday mayday mayday, this is Atelier Atelier Atelier. Broadcasting on all frequencies. Stop. Is there anybody out there. Stop. Mayday, Atelier. Over.

Rebecca Black supports Doomsday.

No it's not that either.

I'm so getting a tshirt printed saying "I Survived Armageddon"

[not]

Ok, these are the things it is not:

• My mouse
• The room size (320x240)
• The cursor graphic
• The cursor hotspots
• Animated cursors
• Anything in my script (I commented everything and it still happened)
• Parkinson's