Messages

[Sinitrena]

Man, we should have a Braveheart or Die Hard theme -so much graphic combat!  Bernard Cornwell would be pleased.  Or maybe one of you guys is Bernard Cornwell (this is the internet after all....)?  Perhaps it is Sinitrena; her feminine voice acting stints just a clever ruse to conceal her thick beard and receding hair line!  Or maybe it's kconan, trying to pull the wool over my eyes with his distractingly sexy avatar!  Or perhaps it is the reclusive WHAM himself, who not withstanding his elaborately staged You Tube video rebuttals is actually a bloodlustful sexogenarian of vivid historical imagination and prolific authoring hands!  Do you deny it, sir?  Who is the man who lurks behind the purple mask?

As for my vote, I'm going to have to go with CaptainD who made me laugh. 

"My mom is a fan of your wife's singing."

or maybe she liked your dog's barking....  It's hard to tell with the various assortment of suburban life-partners these days.   

This sounds like it would be really worthwhile to participate in.  Where do I sign up?

[An Inky Shroud]

An Inky Shroud

Blackness.  Not the gloss-flecked black of chic garments or the light-pocked tapestry of the old sky, but true blackness.  Like in the furthest bowels of a coal mine, without a candle or even the pale glow of an ember to lighten the brutal nothingness.  Total blackness.
 
He turned his head upward, feeling a faint vertigo as he did so for there were no longer any landmarks for reference.  He felt disembodied, a phantom soul lost in the darkness.  Is this how the blind felt, reeling eyeless through a world of unseen dangers? 

The nausea passed, but the cloud of dark matter shrouding the planet did not.  During the day a feeble glow cast the world in a ghoulish twilight, but at night there was nothing.  Not the flickering sparkle of the vault of stars, nor the garish beacon of the moon's playhouse mirror.  Nothing. 
He'd never thought much of the moon, that second-chair fiddler in the galactic symphony.  It rarely bothered to put forth its full effort, paltry though even that was, and it never seemed to keep to any rational schedule.  It was something of a celestial loafer; the fat and wheezing idler of the night sky, showing up when it might be bothered to and doing a half-assed job.  When he yearned for even that boresome company, he knew he was in dire straits indeed.

Yet he did yearn for it now, despite its many inadequacies.  Like an outcast, he would now make common cause with anyone who showed him even the smallest kindness, even such a despicable lout as the moon; if only it would show him even a wink of regard in this, their hour of need.  Who knew if it were even still up there, in the great vacuum of blackness looming oppressively above?  But for the first time in his life he yearned for the comfort of its sallow presence.  Just a glint, a gleam, a half-imagined trace of its pallid circus.  Just a spark in the distance, fleeting and fragile in the tunnel of their darkest night.  Gazing upwards, where the heavens should be, his soul craved just a crumb of hope. 

[Supposition]

What were we talking about?

How many sales commercial AGS games garner.  Some vague figures have been bandied about, and others are freely available with some polite requests via PM.  What I'm interested in, though, is how many sales commercial AGS games ought to make.

Supposition: It is possible for the next Angry Birds ( > 1 billion downloads) to be an adventure game.  Based on the porting work of various AGSers (including Joseph DiPerla, JJS and possibly something going on behind the scenes at Wadjet Eye vis à  vis iOS, among others), this could feasibly even be an AGS adventure game. 

Query: What is it that AGS games have to do to really break out into the main stream?  And don't give me that first-person 3D environment crap, 'cause the genre has already been there.  What does an enterprising AGSer have to do to bring a 2.5D graphical adventure to the masses?   

I liked how Dave pointed out in his talk how profitability and graphical quality were somewhat inversely related.  Really kinda makes you think....

Congratulations to WHAM, and semi-congratulations to CaptainD!  I'd feel obliged to fractionally congratulate everyone else (whoever they are) for their unsung struggles, but I'm having a hard time remembering those faceless heroes, let alone what on earth they wrote, so.... whatever.  See you guys next contest.

Damn you, kconan, and your sexy avatar -I almost thought I`d already voted!  I also vote WHAM.

Is this an stylistic choice or a marketing choice?  If it's just style, by all means go with your gut (it represents you!).  But if you're concerned with how the artwork will influence the reception your product receives, have you considered a bit of market research?  Maybe printing up some prototypes with different styles and asking prospective buyers which one they would like best.  Or maybe renting a market stall on a Saturday morning and actually seeing which style sells the best (of course you'd have to stress that the music inside is the same, and that you're just experimenting to find the best "branding" for your publishing house).  Just some ideas....   

Congratulations Ponch!  Canada couldn't have pulled it off without you  .

[GEMINI WHO?]

***SPOILER ALERT: Don't read if you don't want some key mysteries of the game revealed***

GEMINI WHO?

    Azriel stepped over the Director's corpse and checked whether Sayuri was alright.  She'd been shot in the stomach, but she had a pulse.  His training suggested
that she would probably pull through.  The nearby computer terminal was flashing the station's self-destruct countdown, but he needed it to check for his memory files.
    "Azriel?" Sayuri called faintly, coming to.
    Azriel glanced at her, then typed something into the interface.  There they were, their memory files.
    Sayuri lifted up her head.  "Don't," she whispered.  "I don't want to know my past."
    "What about me?" Azriel rasped.  "What about my past?"
    "You don't need it," she replied definitively.
     "FIVE MINUTES TO STATION DESTRUCT," a computerized female voice announced.
     "Let's get out of here," Sayuri begged.
     "That's all fine and dandy," Azriel huffed.  "You knew all the time that you were Epsilon Five.  You could have said something," he muttered.
     "Delta-Six.  Charlie.  Azriel.  What's in a name?  You're still the same person inside.  A good person."  Sayuri winced as she worked herself up into a sitting
position.  "I think I'm hit pretty bad...."
     "You'll live," Azriel grunted.  "Girls don't die of gunshot wounds in adventures.  Where would be my motivation then?"
     Sayuri drew in her breath sharply.  "What about Anna Morales?"
     "See?" Azriel announced triumphantly.  "Memories!  How am I supposed to function without my god-damn memories?!?  My old buddy Matthias just tried to kill me in the hallway because I somehow harmed him back when he was Balder and I was someone named Charlie.  I just shot one of my best friends, and I don't even know why he deserved it.  That's frickin' messed up.  I gotta jog my memories or I don't think I can keep a handle on this crazy messed up world."
     Sayuri moaned.  "You're not going to like what you find," she whispered.
     "She's right."
     Azriel spun to see the Director's monocled visage rising from the pool of blood on the floor.  Instinctively he drew his gun. 
     "FOUR MINUTES TO STATION SELF-DESTRUCT," chimed the computer's voice.
     Azriel's eyes narrowed.  "Who am I?" he asked.
     The Director shrugged.  "You're a dead man," he said philosophically.  "Like the rest of us."
     Azriel shot him again, and he dropped back into the pool of blood.  "Can't I get a bloody straight answer around here?" he asked angrily, turning back to the
computer terminal.
     "Charlie!" a voice rasped.  Azriel turned around to see Matthias's bloody form limping into the Director's office,  gun in hand.  "Charlie!  We ain't through.  We
ain't-" 
      Azriel shot him too, and his corpse slouched against the wall.  "What did I ever do to that Balder guy, anyway," he wondered out loud.
      "You didn't do anything to him," Sayuri explained, eyes closed. 
      "What?"
      "You didn't do it.  You're not Charlie.  You're not even Azriel."
      "What?  Do you mean I'm like some sort of assassin, so I'm not behaving like my inner me?  They reprogrammed me, you know."
      "No.  You never were Charlie.  You're...."  Sayuri trailed off.
      "Dammit." Azriel cursed.
      "THREE MINUTES TO STATION SELF-DESTRUCT."
      "She's right you know," the Director said.  Azriel trained his gun on him again, but this time he didn't attempt to rise from the pool of blood."
      "What do you mean I'm not Azriel?"
      The Director's lips curled into a grotesque smile.  "You're not Azriel.  I'm Azriel."
      Azriel's head shook involuntarily.  "What the F@#$?? ??  Why the hell does everybody call me Azriel then?!?? ?"
      "A clever ruse, my friend.  The Boryokudan needed you to kill Azriel, so they set this whole thing up."
      "And you knew this??" Azriel said incredulously.  "So you got yourself shot intentionally?  This is messed up."
      "And that's not really Balder," the Director continued.
      "What??"
      "Matthias.  He isn't really Balder."
      "Who the hell is he?"
      "He is Epsilon Five."
      "What?!?" Azriel blinked twice.  "You mean I just killed my love interest?  Again?? ??"
      "If it makes you feel any better we had her memories entirely wiped and replaced with those of Balder."
      Matthias began to rise again from his slouched position against he wall.  "Charlie!" he screamed.
      Azriel raised his gun, then hesitated.  "Have you been listening to this?" he asked the bloody monster that was rising to life again in front of him.  "You know Charlie is actually the guy on the-"
      "Charlie!" Matthias called again, stumbling and raising a gun towards him.
      "Oh son of a-" Azriel shot Matthias again, and he collapsed next to the chuckling Director who was claiming to be Azriel.
      "What's so funny?" Azriel asked.  "Hey, if you're Azriel, how do you know so much?"
      "TWO MINUTES TO STATION SELF-DESTRUCT."
      Azriel's communicator crackled to life.  "Hey Azriel, we gotta get out of here now!" Kane shouted from the bridge of their ship.
      The Director chuckled some more.  "I got into the computer memory banks, of course.  Just like you're trying to do.  Trust me, this whole thing is even more
messed up than you think."
      Sayuri groaned again, coming back into consciousness.
      "Then who is she?" Azriel asked.
      "I'm the Director, of course." She propped herself up a little more comfortably, and her stomach wound gushed more blood.
      "What?? ??" Azriel spat incredulously.  "But...  Didn't we, you know....?? ??"
      "I was faking it," Sayuri said nonchalantly.  "It was all a part of the greater scheme."
      "But...  You're going to die!  What kind of stupid scheme was that?!?"
      "You think that's stupid," the Director-Who-Claimed-To-Be-Azriel began, propping himself up on his elbow.  Sayuri shot him, and he collapsed back down.
      "Wait, I'm confused," Azriel said.  "Which one of you two is the Director?"
      Sayuri sighed.  "I'm the Director.  He," she waved her gun at the Director, "was Azriel, who had been surgically altered to look like the Director, and had his
memory banks reprogrammed to believe that he was the Director."
      "But he said he was Azriel!" Azriel pointed out.
      "He was!  Since as the Director he had access to the memory banks stored on the station's computer, he was able to upload his own memories and discovered that he
was really Azriel.  That's why he shot me."
      "Holy crap!" Azriel blurted out.
      "Charlie!" Matthias called out again, rising once more from the puddle of blood.  Both Azriel and the Director shot him again.
      "ONE MINUTE TO STATION SELF-DESTRUCT."
      "Azriel!  We gotta go!" Kane's desperation crackled through the communicator.
      "Go on without me," Azriel paged back.
      "What?!?"
      "I'm not really Azriel," he replied.  The communicator was quiet for a long moment.
      "Well, he's not really Kane either," Sayuri began.
      "What?!?"
      "He's actually Balder."
      "That bastard!" Azriel clenched his fist in rage.
      "Yeah," Sayuri said.  "Of course he thinks he is Kane."
      "Azriel?" the communicator burst to life once more.  "Azriel, I'm coming to get you."
      Azriel put the communicator up to his mouth, then put it down again, shrugging.  "Bastard has it coming, I guess."  He turned to look at the countdown on the
computer terminal, then back to Sayuri.  "Alright, now for the million credit question.  Who the hell am I?"
       "Haven't you figured it out?" Sayuri asked.
       "I'm Kane!" Azriel guessed.
       "Nope."
       "Giselle?"
       "Not even close."
       "Nathaniel?"
       "We just made him up."
       "Oh yeah.  How about that newspaper vendor back on Barracus?"
       "You're just being silly now."
       Azriel glanced back at the counter on the computer terminal.  "Alright," he said with some annoyance.  "I give up.  Who am I?"
       Sayuri smiled.  "You are the computer countdown voice!"
       "No!"
       "Yes!"
       "Well I'll be a-"
       The station explodes.
     

...for those who don't "get" the subtleties of Canada -- which is everyone, basically. 

Nobody "gets" the subtleties of Canada.  You have to earn them.     There's a 1000 blackfly bite initiation before we start sharing our subtleties with outsiders.

...your own shoddily-crafted tale of AGS fanfic!

Sorry, just to be clear...  ...my AGS fanfic must be shoddily crafted to qualify as a submission?

Hey mdm2968 (if that is your real name....  ),
 

Spoiler

The parka guy had to arrive somehow: check out the parking lot for his ride and see if that doesn't get you unstuck.

[close]

it is impossible for a video game to be art

Awesome!  Until now my lack of artistic skills has been my biggest hindrance in game design.  But since you've convinced me that video games are not art, then it follows logically that one does not require any artistic skills whatsoever to create one.  I am liberated!  Begone self-conscious sense of doubt, and look out world!  Bother me not with your blithe feedback about JPEG artifacts and eye-bleeding palette choices: you would simply be commenting on a component of game design that does not exist, a stance as foolish as it is worthy of derision.  Take that, critics!  Boo-yeah!  I'm going to start cranking out corporatist profit-churning product like you and your wallet won't believe.  And don't even think about not buying my pulp, since you would have no basis of evaluating the quality therein, now that it is official that video games are not art.  You are meant to consume, grub!  Not to question!  Now give me yo MOOOOOONEEEEEY!!!1!!!!

Will you be releasing your MAGS project in some form in the future? It looks pretty nifty.

Nah.  I'll just toss it on the pile of broken dreams along with all the other tosh.   

Beaver Fever... Man, if I make a sequel to this game, that is TOTALLY going in there, buddy. 

Beaver Fever is actually no laughing matter.  I had it a couple times in my early 20s, and it messed me right up.   

Congratulations on finishing, by the way. 

[I heartily endorse this event or product.]

I heartily endorse this event or product.

Congratulations Poncherello!

but I guess Baron Jr. getting the Moose Flu cut into your game making time, eh? 

Moose Flu.... or Beaver Fever?  If only there was an expert on Canada at hand to help us sort this out.... 

Well, we all knew it was a long-shot starting with a week left to go, so I'm going to go ahead and make it official that I'm not entering anything  .  So I guess Ponch wins by default.  Or rather, he will win if he can meet the deadline....

EDIT: Dammit Ponch!  You beat me by three minutes!