erraticunicorn

[erraticunicorn]

An ode to idle animations.

O sweet idle animation, Cradling the player, Creating a sense of familiarity. Conjuring life in the scene, Connecting stasis with spirit.

What would we do without you?

Bobby would rather snooze through class than pay attention.

[erraticunicorn]

What is your favorite cloud?

[erraticunicorn]

Ever wish you could undo your mistakes? Well, in Sunset High, you can.

Excuse the bad haircut -- indie game dev money doesn't get you a barber...

[erraticunicorn]

How does our quest system work? Directed Acyclic Graphs, of course! Join Harold - the lead engineer of Sunsest High - as he throws down some knowledge on you, fools. ;) #gamedev#indiegame#computerscience#gameprogramming

[erraticunicorn]

In the halls of Sunset High, mystery is steeped within the drywall. When confronted with some of it's riddles, what will you do? Can you step up and solve it?

"The closer you get the further I go. The more you obsess the stronger I grow. Only free from me once you let go… What am I?"

- Bobby Birden

[erraticunicorn]

How do you try to make it as frictionless as possible to digest a game where the primary interface with the world is reading text? We tried to hook into some psychological behaviors that influenced our UI. This approach was modeled after I watched a talk by the Disco Elysium creators on how they focused modeled their UI to work like Twitter, hoping to hook into the users tendency to scroll. We took that principle and approached it from a different angle, attempting to model our dialogue UI like texts, since everyone these days texts all the time.

[erraticunicorn]

We knew going in to this, the path would be hard and have a slim chance of actually being successful. What I didn't realize was the prevalence of scammers trying to take advantage of someone who is trying to make their dream come true.

[erraticunicorn]

Frank Ocean has been a huge inspiration to me for as long as I can remember... see profile pic. I had to put an homage to him in my game. I always am running from something, the past, my problems.... I hope this essence was translated to our game.

[erraticunicorn]

As a writer one of the most heard platitudes in my education has been "Show, don't Tell." I always struggled with this, as a writer I love telling. I love trying to use the right words to express and describe these giant emotions I have felt. While working on Sunset High, I think it finally clicked.

Am I wrong? Do you have thoughts?

Let me know! & as always, wishlist our game :3

[erraticunicorn]

When faced with the threats of a incensed Punk, what would you do, Detective?

[erraticunicorn]

How do games tell stories? Why do so many of them revert to tired tropes from other mediums? Why not embrace something inherently video game and try out Sunset High? :3 Help us out, give us a wishlist! We're part of next fest.

[erraticunicorn]

Decisions, decisions, detective. When faced with the pressures of the whims of a Jock, what will you do? Rewind anything. Solve the mystery.

Wishlist us on Steam!

[erraticunicorn]

We grow up thinking we can be the main character: our dreams will come true, we are special. Unfortunately, coming to terms with the mountain of obstacles ahead of you at times makes it seem as if that mountain is Mt. Everest. We are still try going to try to climb it.

Wishlist us on Steam!

#indiegame #gamedev #pixelart #noir #betamale

[erraticunicorn]

To me, nostalgia feels like this.

[erraticunicorn]

I said, "Kiss me, you're beautiful, these are truly the last days." You grabbed my hand and we fell into it like a daydream or a fever. - The Dead Flag Blues, Godspeed You! Black Emperor.

[erraticunicorn]

Waves of torrential synths bombarded his dream. Chord after chord in an endless barrage. Each note hit with a dirtiness you can find by peeking into the forlorn and forgotten alleys of the biggest cities. A putrid wetness so vast, it encompassed and swallowed him in its dark embrace as the world disintegrated into fractals of color falling apart into their quantum components like pixels on a computer display. As the world deteriorated, a cold void was all that was left. Two glowing red orbs hung over the horizon. Glowing eyes. Then almost as if I… or I mean he was an actor in a movie, the supposed director began panning the camera away and I became small, minute, minuscule, compared to the lumbering eyes. The eyes looked like two pitch red, bloody, sunsets hovering over a polluted skyline.

Rap rap rap.

Fuzzy images. Blurred outlines. He was completely disoriented. His mind flickering between ideas of whether this was real or a dream.

Rap rap rap… rap!

“Delivery!”

His mind settled, the alien surroundings became more familiar by the millisecond. He ran through the possible locations he could be. At his mom’s? In his college dorm? No, he was at his apartment, on his mattress, and had just been sleeping. He couldn’t recall ordering anything… Although this would not be the first time he had ordered pizza in a slumberous daze; a program on his phone was able to order pizza on the spot with a simple code word.

He scrambled to find his pants and appear semi-presentable for the lone delivery driver. The order itself would be a complete surprise, perhaps his favorite toppings mushrooms & peppers? Or did his unconsciousness decide to take a risk? His stomach demanded he open the door. As the door swung open, the pizza man looked at the customer’s sprawled-out bed head like a peacock with half the allure. The door should have finished opening by now, but instead it slowed. As it slowed, it stuttered as if reality had a frame rate drop, the distance between him and the delivery driver quickly expanded. Movements slowed, and he found himself in a pitch-dark stage, lit up by stage lights, two actors in a play. The delivery man’s mouth began to droop, ajar, agape, showing a black and bottomless pit. Sound waves began emitting from the void found between his malformed teeth, once perfect, now switching between all the possible polygons in the geometric dictionary, color shifting between white into a curdled yellow. The distance between the two kept expanding. Where once they stood face to face, now a bleak chasm separated them. The movements of the delivery driver became distorted and exaggerated. What once were very human motions had become inhuman. The driver’s jaw began finding angles no regular jaw should ever do. At once in its normal position, then turned ninety degrees, then one hundred and eighty, back to normal, then at another obtuse angle. Each switch caused bones to rub against each other and emit a sound like uncut nails on ancient chalkboard. The delivery man’s muscles began following the movements of his jaw, contouring into weird knots of flesh and noise. The figure soon faded, further and further into the distance as the chasm continued to grow in size. As the herald of food diminished into oblivion, two orbs faded into the foreground. The ruby eyes which hovered over the polluted skyline from my… I mean, his dream, now hung above him, draining all possible strength within, finding the perfect resonance of his soul, matching it, and draining it from any will to vibrate.

“Hey man, I don’t have all day. Are you okay?”

Reality snapped back into place, sweat was dripping from his forehead.

“Yea… yeah, sorry.”

“Just sign here.”

He scribbled a line with some loops, the signature completely missing its mark and slammed the door behind him, giving off the impression of rudeness. He leaned against the door and began a feeble attempt to regain his bearings. What was going on? He focused on more mundane things in an effort to cope, like his ill-attempt at a signature. He thought about how he had never really developed a signature and kind of just winged it every time. What even was a signature? Wouldn’t a fingerprint scan be easier? The giant tech companies surely had his biometric data encrypted into silicon bits in a giant monolith of a server farm somewhere, humming away at an optimal temperature, consuming, and draining power. Soon, his disorganized room came back into picture. It was still a mess. The debate from the night prior (or was it two?) began whispering in his ear:

I should organize my place.

I should organize my place.

I should organize my place.

I should take a quick dive.

If you like what you read consider following me on substack: https://erraticunicorn.substack.com/p/drift-dive-4fd

[erraticunicorn]

Drift Dive - Chapter Three

I was home.

A piercing blue sky made my retinas burn, overwhelmed by all the stimuli. Everything slowly started shifting itself back into focus, settling into a clear picture. Fluffy clouds raced across the sky pushed by gusty winds. Around me, a verdant mountain valley with lush celadon grass. The colors of the visible spectrum each represented by a different mountain flower in full bloom. Blue, violet, red, orange, yellow, cyan, cerulean, and a million other colors for which I had no name. Quickly, my focus switched to the digital markers in the distance, representing my clan. My friends. I took off. Took off with a pace unmatched in the real world. Each step launched me over a multitude of hills. The mountain valley turned into colorful blurs as I sped towards my friends. A noob couldn’t handle these types of g-forces and speeds, me on the other hand – a natural. Vaulting across the final hill, my clan was having a brawl with a group of orcs. I smirked, knowing the orcs were about to have a terrible day.

“Hey Tythe!”

A figure appeared in a wide display of armor pieces, all from different sets, with a variety of colors coming together in an ugly amalgam, yet I could tell where each piece came from, all of them mythic rare. He turned to face me mid swing, while an orc twice his size loomed above him.

“Oh hey! I didn’t think you’d be back online so soon,” he said in a gentle tone, while the orc’s mouth exploded into a yell, sending spittle everywhere. Effortlessly, he immediately followed the roar with a parry onto the oncoming blow as the orc’s brutish blade clashed onto Tythe’s intricately crafted sword.

 “Yeah, I got some food and figured I’d come back on before cleaning up the place.”

“Ha! The day you clean up your launchpad is the day I get defeated by some low-level orc.”

The orc yelled out once again, as his opponent side stepped yet another blow.

“Well, you never know, maybe I’ll receive a guest someday.” Tythe parried the next blow and quickly side-stepped around the orc, causing the gruesome beast to lose its focus. As the brute looked around for his opponent, a sword burst through the middle of his chest. The orc looked down at what once was his sternum and let out a whimper before dissolving into a cloud of confetti – the kill animation in this world – ostensibly to spawn back in some orc camp somewhere, oblivious to the misery he had just endured. I wondered about how his programming would reset back to his initial state, ready to fight another player and lose as dictated by his code, stuck in a torturous, Sisyphean cycle.

“Come on, I know these are low level chumps, but today is a timed event where the boss drops that legendary Warhammer.” I happily obliged.

The next couple of hours were spent with my clan, comprised of other players with absurd names molded by the internet such as “D3athM3tal” and “xxTheConexx”, performing coordinated ballets of swords, spears, maces, and all sorts of medieval weaponry fitting the equally diverse cast. My friends were lurid vampires, voluptuous elves, and dirt covered vikings creating a giant play crafted by an unknown number of playwrights.

Eventually, I grew tired of the game so I switched things up. I loaded up fantasy cassettes which could appease some of my more primal desires. The Atlantis scenario was my favorite, where I searched for the lost, sunken, city of old lying past a giant forest of kelp. Every time, I was the first outsider to reach the city of lapis lazuli. As the first visitor, the citizens were programmed to appease my every whim. Hot baths greeted me, warmed by geothermal fissures which scaled my skin but quickly became a comforting blanket. The merpeople enclosed me similarly and were all too eager to do my every bidding. And I mean every bidding.

After another couple of hours, a shift of gears led me to watch entire television programs from the point of view of one of the characters, crushing twelve episodes of a sci-fi drama. Always ignoring the government warning at the start of each episode suggesting the consumption of no more than three episodes at a time, otherwise chancing a disassociation from reality. I scoffed every time. Like the nutritional box behind a box of insta-mac & cheese, who paid attention to government warnings? This was my favorite space drama which involved a struggle between an intergalactic, utopic government and its campaigns against a tyrannical force, each attempting to instill their will onto one another.

The flurry continued, switching between every possible medium I could absorb. Video games, movies, TV shows, homemade clips, virtual forums where I could pettily engage in arguments over the minute details of obscure subjects.

                                                   ~

At long last he surfaced, in a tumult of gasps for air as if he had just swum to the bottom of the ocean. The somber walls welcomed him as they did every time. His jaw was slightly agape, his brain completely fried, his head pounding. He needed sleep. A glimpse down onto his phone made him realize the so-called quick dive had turned into a thirty-hour bender. He began crawling across the cement floor and onto his mattress strewn in the corner and crashed. Crashed so hard, his head did not even hit its mark – a sole pillow on an uncovered mattress.

Read Chapter Two: https://erraticunicorn.substack.com/p/drift-dive-09e