0 comments on "WIP: Death and Layla Hanson [game]"

I’ve been working on a couple of Ren’Py games and they’re coming along… okay. It’s been a lot better since I learned how to use screens (namely what “tag” does) and I think my first (very simple) Ren’Py game will be ready in a week or two.

At the same time, I’ve also discovered Twine. It’s a very simple to use CYOA story engine that produces html pages.

My first Twine “game” is “Death and Layla Hanson“. It is currently a work-in-progress, but you can take a look at it if you’re interested.

I’ve been adding to it and changing the styles and formatting, so you might see it change from one visit to the next.

To help with tracking the changes, I’ve added navigation at the top.

Death and Layla Hanson

This is the first screencap I took:
Screencap of Death and Layla Hanson

And this is the second screencap:

Screencap of Death and Layla Hanson

If you’re interested, you can check out “Death and Layla Hanson” at Kimichee.com/games/Death_and_Layla_Hanson.html.

Small Gods at Amazon
0 comments on "Aeridale: Working on my game"

In case you were wondering what’s been going on, I’ve been working on my Ren’Py game(s). The first one is called Aeridale, which is the story of an orphaned girl that grows up to find adventure, romance, and possibly aliens. It all depends on the choices you make while playing.

screencap of Aeridale script

^ Above is a screencap of the script.rpy file. The “[mc]s” will show as Aeridale’s name when the game is played. Because the name is left unspecified, this will allow the possibility of giving the player the ability to input their own name if I add that option. (I’m still thinking about it.)

When the player gets to the startingchoices option, they can choose Action/Adventure, Romance, Horror, or Science Fiction storylines. There are trophies to be gathered and bonus content that can be unlocked.

Depending on the storyline chosen, there’s the possibility of a love-interest, friendship, or just Aeridale learning to kick ass and take names. She starts as a lonely girl desperate to survive and becomes a woman that refuses to lay down and die.

Right now I’m finishing up the script and drawing/painting/stealing artwork to be used as backgrounds, objects, and sprites. Though at the moment I’m actually thinking that I won’t use an Aeridale sprite at all, leaving her appearance up to the mind of the player? Because honestly, how often do you see yourself when you’re talking? Like almost never, right? So maybe instead of a sprite I will represent her with an image denoting the romance choice, or the action choice, or whatever. I’m still working on that, and it’s not really pressing as it doesn’t affect the script much — it’s just the addition of a few lines of code here and there (“show Aeridale happy at left” will display the image defined as “Aeridale happy” standing to the left side. Simply enough, I add the image definition in the pregame code, then I can use those images anywhere I want.).

Aeridale will be about 4+ hours of gameplay to run through all the opened options, plus however long to go through the bonus material. It seems like a lot of work to put the game together — and it is, hours and hours — but it’s basically a lot of me thinking “Aeridale does this and then she does this because of that, which leads to this and that, the end”. Everything logically follows itself, though I did manage to write a loop which kept going back to the same menu screen over and over again before I figured out where I’d messed up. I’m learning a lot as I’m doing.

Other games I’m scripting: “Harper Kingsley’s Heroes & Villains”, “Kimichee 001”, and “Romantica.”

I’m hoping to release my first free game by early next month. I’ve already got an itch.io page and I’ll be sending out download keys to my Patreon subscribers.

Panoply at Amazon
1 comment on "I hate being poor; ATR-not; Excerpt: The Anomaly"

The plans are as follows:
1. Paint the Kid’s room.
2. Grow and eat mung bean sprouts.
3. Get him a BMX bike.
4. Buy him clothes for school.
5. Wrap up all old stories.

* * *

OMAKE

Being a retiree wasn’t so bad. Not when he halfway felt as though everyday they lived like normal people was one more day when he’d kept the world safe.

Warrick would never say anything, but checking up on the things Vereint had gotten up to while he was indisposed and reading a few essays floating around the Internet about the minds of supervillains had really freaked him out. It was obvious that Vereint had gone a bit psycho.

It was somewhat flattering to think that he was the only thing protecting the world from Vereint going full scale SUPERVILLAIN Darkstar. He got to have the love of his life and save the world at the same time. Blue Ice was dead, but Warrick felt like more of a superhero than he had in a long time.

Having Nick manifest his first metabilities was a bit worrying. Warrick didn’t quite know how he was supposed to handle things, but he managed to at least look like he wasn’t throwing hysterical fits so he considered it a win. Vereint wasn’t even trying to cover up the fact that he was freaking out. It made Warrick feel a bit superior to be the controlled one for once.

“Remember, no showing off,” Vereint said with a pointed look at Nick.

“It’s fine, Dad.” Nick rolled his eyes, but didn’t try to move away when Vereint tugged his jacket straight. “I got this.”

A quirky smile curved Vereint’s lips as he looked at Nick. “You’re growing up really fast. Just don’t expect to get your own car until you’re twenty-five.”

Warrick moved in when it looked like Vereint was about to spit on his hand to smooth their son’s hair. “We’re going to be late.”

Vereint let himself be tugged away from Nick. Warrick wrapped his left arm around Vereint’s shoulder, less as a comforting gesture and more to hold him back from his fussing.

“I guess we better get out of here,” Vereint said.

Nick looked proud in his suit and tie, his hair styled to look careless and windswept. He had Vereint’s dark hair and Warrick’s blue eyes and was growing up to be a good looking kid. When he grinned, it was to show off Vereint’s dimples in a charm that no one could deny. “I look good, right?” He stuck his hands in his pockets and spread his jacket wide for a moment.

“Don’t get a big head.” Warrick clapped Nick on the back and nudged him toward the door. Vereint stayed curled against his side, their legs almost tangling when they stepped out on the porch. Warrick refused to let him go.

They walked up the sidewalk as a group, meeting up with others making the journey. Boys and girls dressed in their best clothes, excited younger siblings bounding around, and indulgent parents trailing along. It was like something out of a Norman Rockwell painting, this stream of people all headed toward the country school.

Warrick had never imagined that a child’s graduation between grades was such a big deal, yet here they were. Vereint was beaming with pride and fiddling with the camera hanging around his neck. Nick spotted a couple of his friends and ran up ahead. And suddenly they were taking a romantic stroll.

“Are you going to write about this in your diary?” Warrick asked.

Vereint slanted him a confused glance. “Huh?”

“Never mind. It was stupid. Life is good.”

“It is.” Vereint gave Warrick’s shoulder a squeeze.

Warrick smiled contentedly.

He had a husband he loved and a son graduating the fifth grade. He had sixty-one years of life experience and a thirty-one year old body. There wasn’t much more that he could ask for. Life was good.

/EXCERPT

* * *

They gave him the name Gellar Rembrandt when he was decanted. One more Bottle Baby sent off to the creche. And as soon as he had a mouth full of teeth and could walk and talk, he was bundled off to the Learning Center.

It wasn’t a bad life, being the clone of a clone of a clone. For everything he thought and did, there was a precedence. It gave him a sense of peace to know that he was a stereotypical representative of his genotype. One amongst thousands.

Until the Graduation Exams when he was 20. Until his world was ended with the declaration that he was an Aberration, and Unclean.

He was not the perfect copy he’d always known himself to be. He was an anomaly.

Gellar was taken from the Learning Center in the back of a van. His wrists were shackled together and he was treated like a prisoner, an inevitable threat.

He could see the disgust and disquiet in the faces that looked like his own. (His type is used in the police and military.) Every single one of them was forced to wonder what they would have done if they were him. He was the possibility of failure that any one of them could have been.

He was their worst fear brought to life.

Aberration. Discord. Failure.

/EXCERPT

Fortress in the Eye of Time at Amazon
0 comments on "EXCERPT: some sci-fi thing"

Seiver hit the ground hard. Thankfully it was kneepads first, though it still felt as though his bones were coming apart. He immediately muscles to his feet with a mental note to watch what he was doing.

He wasn’t getting shot.

Amongst the maelstrom of returning fire, Seiver focused on his job. The reason he was paid the big bucks.

He crouched in the center of the room and began assembling the Anum Porta. His hands were steady as he slid the frame parts together. He’d practiced until he could almost match the base record.

Sweat was gathering around his neck. He could feel his bandanna getting soggy.

He willed the sweat not to form on his forehead. But he was only human. Heavy droplets gathered across his forehead and trickled like tears down to his jawline.

In his peripheral he recognized that his protection squad had dwindled from 6 to 4. It was the kind of realization that usually came to him when he was on downtime. The fact that his platoon-mates were dying for him.

He shook off the flicker of shock. He didn’t have time right now.

Part A into Part B, he thought. The portal was nearly complete. Then he could grab up his gun and guard it.

Something slammed into his back and he shouldered it aside without pausing in his work. It was the body of Private Hoskins. Seiver’s brain helpfully identified the nametag as the face was gone. A sound escaped his throat before he swallowed it back.

Not now.

Now as for bolting the last pieces in place and snapping the ring into the stand.

There was a sound like angel’s singing. A rush of melodic harmony as the circuit was completed and the miniature-Gate connected with the Intergalactic Ansible Network.

The Gate glowed red briefly and Seiver quickly got behind it.

A ringing tone was held a second longer than any other, then there was a loud GONG! Sound. And the Gate snapped open. A flare of blinding light swiftly obscured by Gatepods.

The capsules struck like bullets, smashing through walls and bodies. When they stopped, the lids burst open to release the marines inside.