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[Coincidences]

Coincidences

Paddy walks into the pub and joins Mickey and Seamus at the bar.

"What'll ye be having there?" The barman says.

"Pint of Guinness, sir."

The barman smiles. "Good timing. I've just put on a fresh barrel."

"What a coincidence, to be sure," says Paddy.

The barman scoffs. "Dere's no such ting as a coincidence."

Mickey and Seamus side with Paddy. "The feck are you on about now? Course there's such a thing as a coincidence."

"Okay," says the barman. "If you can convince me that there's such a thing as a coincidence, your next pint is free."

Mickey rubs his hands together. "Easy. Just this afternoon, I was on my way to the pub and I remembered Molly from school. Remember her? Tits so big, old Mr O'Conor had to sit with a cushion on his lap. Anyway, so I thought to myself, 'boy I'd love to see those tits now' and then my phone rang... guess who it was?"

"Molly?" the others ask.

"No. Mr O'Conor. He called me for a quote on his roof."

"Well," says the barman. "It's an interesting story, but it's hardly a coincidence is it? Now, maybe if it had been Molly on the phone..."

Mickey pays his money and sulks into his pint.

"Okay then, how's this?" says Seamus, eager to tell his story. "Just this afternoon, on me way to the pub, I got to thinking about Roisin from school. Remember her? Tits so big, old Mr Monaghan used to teach the whole lesson facing the blackboard. Anyway, I was just thinking 'I'd give anything to see those tits now.' And then my phone rang. Guess who it was?"

"Roisin?" the others ask.

"No. Monaghan. He was asking after me mam."

"Well," says the barman. "T'is quite the tale, to be sure, but hardly a coincidence now is it? Now, maybe if it had been Roisin on the line..."

Seamus pays his money and sulks into his Guinness.

"Well, what about you?" the barman says to Paddy. "Got any coincidences?"

"Well, actually. Just this afternoon, I was sitting at home, and I got to thinking about Siobhan, from school. Remember her? Tits so big, Mr O'Leary's wife got jealous and made him quit teaching. And then me phone rang.

"Let me guess," the barman says. "Mr O'Leary?"

Paddy gestures to Mickey and Seamus.

"No, it was this massive feckin' pair of tits, telling me to come to the pub"

Congratulations noblonski. Great start to your AGS career!

I'll be in touch soon about setting the theme for February.

So, an Aussie, a Canadian and a German walk into a bar...

I've voted.

Both stories were short and sweet, each with their own great twist I didn't see coming.

Spoiler

My vote went to Sinitrena in the end as I really liked the main twist. I could really imagine it as little animated short.

Mandle's main twist was also clever. But I didn't really get what was happening with the gas explosion at the end.

[close]

Wow. Looks like there are a few things in the works.
All the best bringing these to fruition, guys.

Stu, I think Dead Phones links to the screenshot instead of the game in your post.

Thanks, Kastchey, you were right.
Sorry about that, noblonski. It should be fixed now.

[Not My Ron]

Thanks for the entries, everyone.
Time to vote.

Please vote using the poll above.

	Not My Ron by jwalt
	Dead Phones by noblonski
	Hues of the Haunt by Kastchey

Please let me know if I've missed anything.

[Trippy]

Theme: Trippy
Set by: The Great Underground Empire

The winner of MAGS January is cat, with the colourful Apfelmännchen.

	Trippy by jwalt
	A Doll in a Dream by Blondbraid
	Apfelmännchen by cat

To get some practice at letting go of making "perfect" art - your game should be heavily, or entirely, based in a trippy visual space.

Whether this is the innate world, your protagonist has ingested hallucinogens, got licked by an alien toad, etc. is up to you.  Go crazy, abstract, wild colors, throw perspective and depth out the window, have a main character who's a scribble or has a changing number of heads.

Bonus points for well-signposted game mechanics or puzzles based around using trippy visuals or logic to overcome obstacles.

Merry Chrissie and a Happy Nozza Yozza, everyone.

[Worlds Literally Collide]

Thank you to those who voted.

The winner of MAGS November is. . .

Worlds Literally Collide by The Great Underground Empire

Well done, TheGUE. I'll be in touch seen about setting the theme for January.

The very few times I've actually managed to finish any projects (tiny though they were), they all had the same rare magical alignment of free time and motivation, which is something I struggle with.

Another thing is this: the ones I've finished all were planned out with pencil and paper first. Everyone works differently, but I think having them basically complete in a notebook really helped me to focus on just transferring it to AGS without adding any extra crap. Of course I changed some minor stuff during the transfer (dialogue etc), but all the rooms and puzzles were basically sorted.

(Also... I don't know if anyone's noticed, but I've never made a walk-cycle in my life. What a time sink! It's either been "first person" or the guy just stands there while you click about.)

Last chance to vote, folks

One week left and we already have an entry? That's a good start!

Anyone else working on something?

It's looking increasingly unlikely that I'll have a chance to sit down and get anything on the page, but I might be able to whip together some flash, or a limerick or something.

Woah, two in a row

#905
🟨⬜⬜⬜🟩
🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩

A mate of mine got #905 on his first guess. Took me three, as did today's (#906)

Anyway, it's this time of the year, so I have a question: Are you all in the mood for some seasonal theme or not?

Colour me jingled.

@RootBound Yeah, I'm not sure we've had a consistent policy on tie-breakers for a while, but it is quite normal for the host to decide the winner if they didn't vote in the initial round. And as you say, if you had voted, you'd have gone for After the Fever, so it makes sense that this should be the winning story.

It also happens to be the story I voted for.
(Forgive my delayed feedback but I did read the stories.)

[Vote using the poll at the top of the page.]

Sorry for the delay in setting this up.

I was very happy to see a lovely crop of FOUR games for November. And they all look great. I trust you've all started playing some of the games already, but you still have until the 20th to vote for your favourite.

Vote using the poll at the top of the page.

	Wagu Ogambo -- A Reality on the Norm game by jwalt
	The Play of Life by tbook
	Dreamscape: Silent Serenade by Kastchey
	Worlds Literally Collide by The Great Underground Empire

Well done on getting your entries in, everyone. They look great. I'm a bit poorly at the moment but will rig up the voting very soon.

Cracking first post noblonski. Welcome to the forum.

Good to see some early interest in this one xxx

That Night

*** Content warning: foul language, cigarettes, underage drinking and sensitive subject matter ***

It was terrifying and beautiful. Oranges and reds flickered and flitted around the upper edge of the block of flats. Smoke billowed ceaselessly out of the windows like a volcanic eruption. Outside the Calgary House flats was a blur of fire engines and ambulances and evacuated residents, gathered in the playground below watching in anticipation as firefighters battled against smoke and flame.

"That poor maaaaan," Gregg heard his neighbour cry out. Gregg knew the flat. It was Mr Thurlow's. There was no way he would have survived if he'd been inside. As if in response to Gregg's conclusion, some firefighters yanked a limp and lifeless hunk of charred meat from the window of the flat. Gregg watched as Thurlow was brought down the hydraulic ladder of the fire engine and given the barest of cursory checks before being bundled, still smoking into a body bag. Gregg turned around and went back into his own apartment, closed the door behind him and burst into tears.

Gregg spent the next two days in a haze. He didn't go to school. He wasn't even sure if his mother had noticed, and the school hadn't called, as far as he knew. The door knocked. He decided to answer it.

"Where the fuck have you been?" It was Jason. Gregg was happy to see him. He was even happier to see the crate of beers Jason was holding. Seeing Gregg's eyes he explained, "I nicked these off the new stepdad."

"You mean Brian, or another new Stepdad. I've lost track."

"Fuck you, Gregg. At least my old man ain't still doing time."

"No, only because he left your mum and found a peaceful life."

"Brutal, man. Anyway. We're going to Thurlow's place. Phil's meeting us there later."

Gregg looked at Jason with sorrow in his eyes. "Jase... Didn't you know? The fire?"

"Course I fucking knew, you twat. That's why we're going there. Have a few beers in his honour."

"Are we allowed..."

"Who gives a fuck? Thurlow was our friend. Anyway. They've blocked off the whole top three floors coz of health and safety. No one will know."

They left Gregg's flat in Vancouver House and walked across the communal area towards Calgary. Some little shit three years younger known as Little Kenny, strode up to them holding a car key. It looked like he'd been going round all the Fords testing to see which ones it fit. "Alright? Giss one o'dem beers!"

"Fuck off, Kenny." Jason told him. "You're too young!"

"So are you, you cunt. My cousin's gonna smack you up 'orrid." Little Kenny liked to talk big. Gregg had heard of this famous cousin of his before but suspected there wasn't one. Kenny turned his attention back to the cars.

They went behind Calgary House and climbed up the outside staircase. Halfway up, the way was blocked by some yellow tape. It was clear this part of the building was out of bounds. They went in anyway and continued up the concrete steps to Mr Thurlow's flat, or what was left of it.

The place was completely black. everything was ash or soot. Jason threw one of the warm cans of beer to Gregg. "There's nowhere to sit," he said.

Gregg prodded the floor with his foot. "I'm not even sure it's safe to be standing here."

Jason opened a can and began downing its contents before remembering why they were here. "Oh yeah. Here's to Mr Thurlow! Rest in peace you weird man."

"Rest in peace, Roger." Gregg followed up with.

Jason laughed. "Remember that time we was snooping through his letters and found out his name was Roger? He didn't like that. He musta known we was gonna take the mick."

"I can't even remember why it was funny," Gregg admitted.

"Me neeva really, but it's like... you know... Rogering."

"Why do you think our mums didn't like us coming here? He was alright. Just a bit weird, like."

Jason finished his first beer and cracked open another. "My mum reckoned he was some kind of pedo."

"No way. What the fuck? Nah man. He just liked our company. He gave us sumpfink to do. We went and got his newspapers and he gave us a quid for some football stickers. Nothing more than that." Gregg fell quiet for a second and then faced Jason with a seriousness in his eyes. "He never done nuffink to you did he, like?"

"No way, man. Like you said, he just liked hanging around with us. I used to walk his dog, Princess, till she died. And he gave me a quid for some toffee crumble... He did give me my first puff on a fag though. But my mum never woulda known about that."

"Yeah, me too. He liked a puff." Gregg put his hands in his pocket, and took out a pouch. "Talking of which."

The boys smoked a couple of cigarettes in peaceful silence. Gregg heard a noise coming from the ashes behind them.

"Fawt I'd find you two 'ere."

"Philip. Grab a beer. I nicked 'em off Brian?" Jason explained.

"Who's Brian. Another stepdad?" Philip said, pulling the ring and hoovering up the froth.

"Fuck off, wanker. Didn't your dad try to leave you in a hot car on purpose?"

"No. That was my sister."

Gregg intervened. "Calm down boys," he said, passing his half-finished cigarette to Philip.

The boys drank and smoked and reminisced about Mr Thurlow for half an hour. They talked about the time they found an old army rifle in one of his cupboards (it was the only time he'd ever kicked them out for being too nosey). They talked about how they almost never saw him standing up, yet he always seemed to have a hot cup of tea next to him when they went to his house. They talked about secrets he'd told them, secrets they'd told him, stories he'd shared about the war, and about his time in the police force, and about his family, his daughter he hadn't met for 20 years because of a "misunderstanding".

"Hey. Remember that time Thurlow shouted at Phil for trying to unlock his bedroom door?" Gregg said.

"Oh damn, yeah." Philip moved over to where the door to Thurlow's bedroom was. It was heavily burned but still on its hinges. Technically it was still locked, but with only a small nudge the door jamb crumbled and the strike plate fell away. "I s'pose now we can have a gander."

The space where Roger Thurlow's bedroom once stood was slightly less charred than the rest of the flat. The fire must have started elsewhere. The bed, the wardrobe, and a desk were all at least identifiable. Gregg moved over to the desk, situated beneath a large window, and tugged on the handle of its only drawer. Some papers had survived, but they all looked boring. He glanced up and caught the view from the window. For the first time in Gregg's life, he saw the charm of Canada Place, and understood why an old bloke like Thurlow would want to live here forever. It was surely the best view in all three blocks, or "houses": Calgary, Edmonton and Vancouver. From this angle you could see the playground at the centre and the car parks and even as far as Pickard's shop up the road where the younger kids stuffed their sleeves with chocolates and the older kids lingered outside, trying to get the grown-ups to buy them fags and white cider. He even saw Little Kenny in the car park, hunched over the back wheel of Old Vera's Citroën Dolly (so it was him who'd been letting down her tyres). Made sense. He was always messing around in that car park.

Gregg put himself in Thurlow's shoes. Just a lonely old man, watching the world go on around him. He probably spent hours every day at that window. It was a special place. No wonder he didn't let anyone in here.

"Come and have a look at this." Jason had opened the wardrobe and found something: a large box, which seemed to have largely survived the fire, being inside the wardrobe.

"It's full of photos. Less 'ave a look!" Philip said.

Jason spilled the box out onto the bed and the three boys hunched over the packets of photographs. "Maybe it's pictures of his dead wife."

"Or that daughter who hates him," Philip guessed.

Gregg couldn't contain his excitement. "Go on then."

Jason picked up one packet and pulled out the first photo. It was an overhead view of a playground, where a group of kids sat on the roundabout. Gregg immediately had a sense of déjà vu. He was looking at the same view he'd just been admiring from the bedroom window. "Let me have a look," he said yanking Jason's hand away and pulling out the next photo. It was the same playground, only zoomed in.

"It's us," said Philip. "Why was he taking pictures of us?"

They spilled dozens, no hundreds, of photos onto the bed. All of them had been taken from Roger Thurlow's window. Gregg, Jason and Philip saw themselves in some of the photos. Others contained some of the other children from around Canada Place. Little Kenny appeared in a few, doing something to one car or another. That little boy looked so lonely and vulnerable when he didn't know he was being watched.

"Shit. My mum was right."

They fell silent.

"What do you mean?" Philip said.

"He never done nuffink to you did he, Phil?" Gregg asked his friend.

"No way man."

Jason repeated what he'd said to Gregg earlier, "My mum reckons he was some kind of pedo."

Philip recoiled. "What? No way man. He never done nuffing like that. But..."

"But what?" Gregg and Jason said in unison.

"Well... funny you should mention that, because my dad also finks he was some kind of pedo. And another funny thing is..."

Gregg and Jason leaned in and waited for Philip to continue.

"After the fire... my dad came home and made a phone call. All he said was 'It's done', then hung up. Nothing else. First, I thought he might be talking about helping to put out the fire or something. But I've suddenly remembered something else... he stunk of petrol."

"Wait, what? Hang on... do you mean?" The cogs were still turning in Gregg's mind.

"I dunno. I dunno. Fuck, I hope not."

"Your dad, killed Thurlow!" Jason exclaimed, with a surprising amount of glee.

Then Jason's face changed. "Actually... my mum got a weird phone call that night too. The phone rang and she picked it up and just went 'okay'. Nothing else."

Gregg said "My mum never even came home that night."

"She was at mine. They was in the kitchen. I fawt you knew. There was a few of 'em. Some kind of get-together. They kept telling me to stay in my room but I kept coming out to get another gander at Kenny's mum."

Gregg said, "Who else was there?"

"Six of 'em, I fink...."

Philip started pulling his hair out. "So hang on... all the mums fawt Roger was some kind of pedo so they got my dad to set light to his flat? I ain't having that."

The boys went quiet again for a bit. Phillip was shaking with anger. Gregg had closed his eyes, like he was solving a puzzle. Jason just stared blankly into space.

Finally, Jason said, "I'm getting out of here. This is fucked up."

Philip tugged Jason's shirt, pleading "Don't go, Jase. I dunno what to do?"

Gregg took a sharp intake of breath and then said "We need more clues." He started emptying more packets of photos out onto the bed and ruffling through them for any sign that these were just innocent photos. "Remember, he said he used to be a copper?" The others nodded. "Well, maybe them pictures is just him doing a bit of neighbourhood watch. I mean, in all those pictures it looks like we're up to no good. Maybe he kept them as evidence or somefing."

Jason grabbed Gregg by the shoulders. "He's got pictures of us playing, Gregg. You gotta admit that's weird."

"Well, there must be somefing. I know Thurlow weren't no pedo."

Suddenly, there was a noise coming from back in the living room. The boys froze, petrified and stayed silent, as small dull footsteps criss-crossed the ash-covered floorboards of the other room.

"Oi! I know you lot are up here." It was Little Kenny.

The three boys went out of the bedroom and into the living room. Gregg said, "Fucking hell Kenny, you scared us."

"Sorry," Kenny said, Gregg noted that was the first time he'd ever heard the kid apologise for anything. "I guess you know?"

"Know what?" Jason said to the younger boy.

"That it was me."

"You?" The three older boys said.

"Oh... I thought even you three dickheads would of worked it out." He looked at Jason. "My mum went to your mum's Ann Summers party. I was bored." He turned to Philip. "Your dad's car was just there, so I thought fuck it and decided to syphon the petrol out of it."

"Why?"

"I dunno... something to do." Kenny looked down and drew an arc in the ash with his foot. "But then, Thurlow catches me, don't he? Tells me he's got pictures of me 'breaking the law'. He's gonna show the police and I'm gonna get taken away from my mum.  So, I follow him, don't I? Back to his flat, and pour the petrol through his letter box and set alight to it. I didn't know it was gonna go up that fast." The kid fell wailing into the ash. "I'm sorry, Mr Thurlow."

The older three said nothing for a moment. Gregg's gears were turning again. "Hang on... so our mums were all at some party at Jason's?"

"Ann Summers," Phil said.

"What's that?"

"No idea," Jason said.

"Not hiding out while Phil's dad killed Thurlow?"

Little Kenny's wailing halted suddenly. "What... what are you all talking about?"

Phil explained, "We thought all the mums got my dad to kill Roger because they fawt he was a pedo."

"Hahahahahaha... You fucking dickheads." Kenny seemed back to his normal mouthy self already.

"Well, he stank of petrol."

"He was probably cleaning up the mess I made of his motah."

"What about the phone call?" Phil asked.

Gregg offered, "Could be anything. Wait, Jase. What time was that phone call your mum got?"

"Well Quantum Leap just finished, so about 10."

Philip started laughing and crying at the same time. "Thank God... The call my dad made was well after midnight."

Jason turned toward the door, "I've had enough. Let's get the fuck out of here."

Little Kenny broke down again. "Wait. What's... gonna... happen... to... me?" He managed through heaving sobs. "You ain't gonna say nuffink to nobody are you?"

"No, Kenny." Jason said and left the room.

Philip followed him, "You was with us all night, Ken."

Gregg looked at the broken boy, "Anyway... we don't want your cousin after us, do we?"