Messages

Just ask your son to play test your game.
He will click on everything madly, ignore all text and prompts.
He will find ways to break your game Cold-War preventative strategist could have never imagined.

I think most of all the dental health message really hit home...
I'm gonna go floss now.

Mmmm Yeah, I like SCUMM.
Single click really bums me out (kinda making Broken Age's puzzles disappointing, I'm not that far in...) I just want to have more options in an adventure game. I want to come up with the solution, not have the writer lead me along like some kind of play-time with a pre-schooler. Buuuuuut, I know gamers don't want to be stuck for more than 35sec anymore.

I like 3.3, it's good. (period for emphasis)

X-Com?

How dare you slam G. Lucas! I enjoyed the creation of Darth Vader....

That minute spent was the highlight of my day

Wow! did you actually build a platformer and level editor in a month?! that sounds pretty ags-incredible, or was that editor interface in your back pocket previously?

I nominate TheBitPriest for a Life Time Achievement Award.

I suggest you look into timers, and search the forums a little. I do believe you will get pointed in the right direction.

Finally finished this one tonight, been savoring it Why doesn't this game have a spot in the AGS database? How am I gonna rate it(with a great score, BTW)!

My heart will go on. :-)

It's probably dumb for me to weigh in on this, But...

Following your vision of what documentation should be we probably need to remove these lines from the manual:

NOTE: You cannot use speech file numbers above 9999. That is, you can have EGO1.OGG all the way up to EGO9999.OGG, but not EGO10000.OGG or higher.

The explanation of what is a number above 9999 would not be necessary for most six year old children.
The appropriate number format for a speech file, perhaps mentioned once somewhere, would be far more useful.
I'm sorry your dead inside Kris, but you are really good with AGS if that helps you.

Here's a question for the Veterans of the forum, did AGS turn Yahtzee into a monster or was it the other way around?

[Character:]

Character: Baron -I felt that Tophat was a great character, loaded with personality.
Plot: Ponch -Not widly twisted, but cleverly carried us along to big reveal in the finale.
Atmosphere: LostTrainDude -Definitely the most intense set-up, great use of some very visual wording! Did you coin, 'serial killer scarecrows and lonely street wolves'? or am I way behind on my pop culture?
Background World: Baron -I have often wondered how the rules of Monopoly would apply to an actual marketplace. The Mediterranean, the chance card and the price list nicely executed!
Word Choice/Style: Baron -I really enjoyed this one, the dialogue protrayed vivid characters and all the crafty references laced into the plot.
Topic: Ponch -Hit the challenge on the button, had me wondering what the heck? while the characters were in total acceptance.

Thanks for inviting me along to my first Writing Competition
I'm an amateur amongst seasoned writers here! Fun reads

My Pearls Before Swine

    Joseph DeVache, always had a knack for spotting the fakes. Of course if he hadn't developed such a discerning set of senses he would have never managed to operate a storefront the last seventeen years, win nearly every client in town and provide a modest living for himself and his family. His Family, well it used to be a family. His wife of twenty-six years finally went good on her threats and left several years earlier, said she'd had enough of his obsession. It meant nothing to her that she could have the finest of his products for their own home or even for herself, although in the end she left with half the business' worth in dollars. She could not understand the fascination with procuring the best of the best. The children had grown and left home, they had no use for Joseph anymore either. Sure, the kids understood the commodity had great value but could never understand the way he lusted after It, their crowd wasn't into materialism, as if their Dad was some kind of vulgar Capitalist.
    “Perhaps they're the fakes, fake family of mine!” Joseph muttered out loud to himself in his bed. He had been up for hours, dwelling, fuming, his thoughts spun off into circles like this often during the course of ill meditation. It was earlier that day, back at the shop, that man, a peddler was what he really was, trying to pass that sub-standard refuse onto him.
    “You insult me! You think this establishment will display your dung next to the fine products I've spent years acquiring and guaranteeing quality for the people?”  Joseph recalled the encounter.
    “Dung?! There is nothing wrong at all with my stuff, it's recognized all over the Country! Listen, you can make a tidy profit if we work together. I need to sell and you need product,” to Joseph the low-life embarrassed himself.
    In short order he was literally throwing the man from his establishment. What the peddler was trying to sell was merely bootleg, even if he didn't know it. Far from the precious gems DeVache Limited had built its reputation upon. The look was all wrong, from the first glance Joseph could detect the lack of luster. Even the hue missed the mark, an average man wouldn't notice a difference in the colour but Joseph did so from the moment that fool carried those samples in the door. Variation in sheen and colour often meant contamination, unwanted minerals watering down the finer elements to a point of no value in the eyes of DeVache. So few truly understood how to perceive real value.
    ”Fools and Savages the lot of them!” He cried out at the twirling blades of his ceiling fan. Joseph knew that the ministry of his trade was lost on this generation. This town especially was uncultured and unworthy.  “I must take action, these people are not fit to bear the Least of my Finest,” his mind now reasoning with his heart. Much of the inventory in his store was already sold, merely sitting until the patrons could be bothered to collect it. It was as if the townspeople held his lot in contempt. Joseph could picture, in his mind, men with no concern as soon as arriving home scattering their purchases across the dirt.
    The snow squeaked under his boots as he crept under night to the rear of the store. Slipping the key into the lock he thought of his van parked behind his shoulder, hardly an appropriate vehicle for this payload but perhaps conspicuousness would be his ally tonight.  Carefully he placed each wrapped parcel into his Ford Aerostar, reflecting on the way he had seen a customer let their young boy fling their purchase about, as they proceeded with the mundane transaction. All the while, Joseph, holding himself back from reprimanding the youth.
It was all in. Joseph flipped on his high beams as he accelerated out of the merging lane and onto the highway. His tires spun. A patch of black-ice under the snow. “Drat!” he cursed himself. He had easily regained control of the mini-van but his rear-view mirror gave testimony to a witness. He slowly pulled over to the side of the road.
    “Hello Sir,” The Officer addressed him politely, “I noticed you having a little trouble back there. Have you had your winter tires mounted yet, Sir?”
    “Oh?” Joseph began to sweat, he was well aware of the newest by-law regarding all-season tires in late October. “I believe these tires are rated for all road conditions, Officer.”
    “Well that's not necessarily the case Sir, we often find..” Something caught his attention, was it the driver's fading complexion, Joseph's inability to make serious eye contact, the bead of sweat forming along his eyebrow? “Is there something in the back I should know about? Your vehicle smells really bad. Please open up the hatch, Sir.”
    “Smells Bad!? Does it Stink!? To you I'm sure, you Nimwit!! The Finest of the Fine, of course it would repulse the Dregs of Society!” Joseph gripped the steering wheel of his van fiercely, teeth bared in a violent sneer aimed at the bewildered Mountie.
    “Dear goodness, is that you Mr. DeVache? Are those sacks of manure in there?”
    “Hah! Only the blinded call it Manure. The Fuel of Life is what I call it! And if these swine don't see it that way too, I must take It and their paid money as well! Upon the vineyards of France and Italy I will place It!”
    “Well, you're a long drive from Barcelona and those tires don't cut it… and I'm not sure what you're doing is really theft, but I think we're gonna just leave the van here for now and you can come with me.”  Half of a smirk crept across the Officers face.
    With his chin held high, Joseph DeVache loosened his fingers from the wheel, unbuckled his seat-belt and stepped out of the Aerostar. He did not slouch, for Mr. DeVache was standing for the dignity of all Fertilizer Retailers, everywhere.

Upon the hallowed names of Casey and Finnegan,  I have been challenged

Interesting tales guys
I find it intriguing that with one mention of the Littlest Hobo, Baron, is suddenly filled with inspiration...

Wow, that must be an amazing Batman series.. either that columnist is a terrifically funny guy or that set of Batman is completely horrific! 

Oh Wow. I think we just found the lost episode of "The Littlest Hobo"