I've been away for a while and... Wow, so much new stuff! There's new stuff from my faves, new people around making new stuff, a shit ton of new content. I got a lot to catch up with, I also mean to write more during the next two months, maybe submit a new game, perhaps finally turn an old idea in a script for an animation. But all this is probably gonna have to wait a while, still have some business to finish before I get some good ol' free time.

For all the Tumblr Refugees reading this (probably none), welcome to NG! We're all glad to have you here. And don't you worry, it's not gonna happen like it did in Europe.

It's my birthday today! I'm 18 now, that means I can drive, drink booze, smoke, get tattoos and make a porn movie!

Woohoo!

I'm really happy. I finally uploaded my first game: The Wizard!

It is a text based, interactive-fiction game. Took me about two weeks to make, but I actually cut the production short, it was being more of a headache then it was worth, and I wanted to move on to other projects I had in mind (such as my future entry to the Crypt Shyfter Short Story Contest). I made the dumb mistake of making most of the game in poetry format, it was a pain in my ass, but I learned my lesson and won't do this again (probably).

And I actually want to thank someone. Thank you, @kungfuspacebarbarian! If it wasn't for your motivational posts I don't think I would have done this... Hell, it was right after reading one of them that I went to look for Twine and started to write this game, so thanks, man!

Now stop reading this and go play my game, give me a review, I definitely could use it!

https://www.newgrounds.com/portal/view/716904

(The following is a short scene that I wrote earlier today. There was a black out and I decided I would practice my writing, as I had nothing to do. I thought I might as well post it here.)

Blood, splatered against the walls, forming a puddle on the floor. Blood, and it was everywhere.

Where there once was a person there is now only a disfigured mess of flesh, bones and suffering. They couldn't even recognize weather it was a man or a woman, but it breathed, deeply, as someone awakening from a terrible mighmare. The surprise was such that the detectives pointed their guns at that person. "How does it live? After all of that!".

It kept on trying to breath, trying to survive. It couldn't, it was a feeble atempt, with a ripped throat the air would never reach the lungs. It tried speaking, but there was no more voice.

-End it's suffering... - Said Detective Jones.

-But, sir... - Charles tryed to object, but was readly interrupted by the Detective "It won't survive, don't make it suffer anymore..."

And so he did it, with a nod of his head Charles pointed the gun at that poor rest of a human being. It closed it's eyes, accepting it's fate, it wanted it. He shot, there was no more space on that wall to be covered in blood.

The two men spent some more time observing that, a person hooked by the back, hanging from the ceiling, like any other piece of meat in the slaughter house in which they were. It wasn't much different from them now, anyways. Jones brought his hand to his head, massaging it, it seemed to him that every time something like this happened more hair fell from his balding head and his moustache got a bit greyer. His face was the portrait of tiredness, each wrinkle represented a case without solution, someone he couldn't save.

But Charles, Charles was young, and new to the homicide branch, he had no wrinkles on his shaved face or any grey hair. It actualy grew in abundance on his head, in dark brown coulour, and he would take good care of it. He was grossed out by the scene, he felt like he was going to vomit. "I'm not feeling to well, Andy."

-Well, stiff it up boy, you'll get used to it soon! - Replied Jones - If you really need to vomit get out of the crime scene... I don't want you spoiling it.

"I won't." And with a shiver across his spine he got back in posture and turned to his mentor:

-What do we do now?

-Let's call the morgue to take this... To take the victim to be analyzed. - He answered hesitantly - And let's write a report of what we're seeing here. Think you can take care of that? I want to take a look arround.

-Sure.

I think you can know if you're a good writer by how hard it is for you to write a shitty story. You'd think "I'm a good writer, is what they say, so it sould be easy to write something bad!". But it's not, probably because as you write it you feel disgusted by how bad it is. By how bad it needs to be, really.

I mean, it's been a while that I've been needing to come up with an excuse for  some senseles killing, and turn it into a script. But it's impossible, there's no good excuse for senseless killing unless it's comical or actually senseless. But it can't be comical and everytime I come up with something I get the "Trigger Frostbite" except that it's the "Keyboard Frostbite".

I can't just type something so horrible. And afterall, does story really matter when it comes to a game that is focused on killing people until your ass falls over? It's mostly a side thing.

But then you make a side story, that doesn't get in the way of the gameplay, gives a nice excuse for senseles killing, but without being completely senseless, and (the best part) taps into the essense of the thing that inspired the game. But: "It's not good.".

Also there's the fact that my days have been really full, which makes working on a project with a deadline even more stressful, which cripples creativity. The wish for working on something independent and on my own time grows.

Dunno why I said all this here tho, maybe it's just beause I don't feel like filling up my friends and my girlfriend's ear with  my moaning. So I just type it here for no one to read.

At least I get the feeling that I'm saying it to someone, godammit.