#i wish drawing didn’t result in me wanting to destroy all my sketchbooks because i hate everything i make

[kirathegreatfoxandkingofeyeballs]

Have you ever been so inspired to make something, but lack the technical skill to make it, or for some reason or another have no way to externally express this like pent up need to make SOMETHING, and it feels like a gazillion thoughts running through your head and you get so restlessly frustrated because you NEED to make something, but for some reason or another, be it personal or technical, you just can’t? And then you end up giving yourself an anxiety attack and heart palpitations and it feels like you’re going to explode?

[indigo-streaks-in-her-hair]

sketches [ cm x r ]

fandom : Dear Evan Hansen

by : Victoire

pairing : Connor Murphy x Reader

summary : In which you are a gifted artist & Connor just so happens to be your unsuspecting muse.

word count : 4,519

warnings : Swearing

a / n : Here we are! I’m beyond excited to be sharing my first fic with you. I’ve recently gotten into DEH & really explored the characters as people, so I do hope the way I write Connor is enough for you! I had my ups & downs while writing this, but the result did prove successful.

Oh, & make sure to see if you can catch a hidden If I Could Tell Her reference in the fic! *winky face* I would love you for the rest of my days if you all could leave a like or maybe reblog! Feedback & constructive criticism are always welcome.

Biting your lip in concentration, your eyes carefully studied the sharp but somehow soft lines of his face. He was sitting diagonally in front of you, with a perfect view of his profile.

Why would you be drawing the infamous Connor Murphy in the middle of a calculus class, you ask? Honestly, you didn’t even have a valid reason except for the fact that he was absolutely beautiful.

His was a unique kind of beauty, dark & harsh & in all ways mysterious, but at the same time there was a sort of lightness to it, fragile & delicate.

It puzzled you sometimes, but you were still drawn to the enigma that happened to be Connor Murphy.

As your pencil scribbled quietly on the paper of your sketchbook, Connor dropped his own. You watched intently as he bent to pick it up, strands of his light brown hair falling into his eyes.

He quickly tucked wisps of it behind his ears, turning back to his previous position. He must’ve felt your burning gaze on him, because he quirked his head in your direction, his clear blue eyes landing on you. A part of his right eye, aside from being blue, was a rich chocolate brown.

You immediately cast your gaze down at your binder, open, but with none of the notes written down. You felt your cheeks flush. Without a sound, you quietly snuck your sketchbook back into your desk.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could’ve swore Connor cocked his brow just in the slightest. He faced back forward, drumming his pencil against the desktop. You were sure he was aware of you now.

Silently cursing yourself, you hopelessly propped your elbow on your desk, your head cocked to the side as the teacher’s words came in one ear & left out the other.

If Connor Murphy kept being this beautiful, you were 100% sure you were going to fail high school.

“Y/N this has to be ‘Connor Murphy sketchbook #3’ by now,” Alana flipped through countless pages filled with drawings of him.

“This is only the second one, Lana,” you stabbed at your salad, ending the life of a poor cherry tomato.

“He almost caught me today, & I was utterly horrified.” You let your fork drop out of your fingers & sighed. “I’d be dead if he ever found out I’ve been sketching him since the beginning of the year.”

“Well, you would sound like a creepy stalker-”

“Thanks a lot, Alana.”

“But,” she emphasized, “these drawings are really really good, Y/N. You really capture something about Connor that others can’t see.”

You couldn’t help but shoot your friend a small smile. “I’m glad you like them.” As if on cue, you see the doors to the cafeteria open.

Connor walked in, his hair tousled as always, & his bag slung across his chest. Sure, he was tall & looked lanky at a first glance, but under the fabric of his shirt, you could make out evidence of the slightest bit of muscle in his arms & torso.

Alana noticed you staring. “Please stop gaping at him like he’s Zac Efron or something, for god’s sake,” She playfully slapped your arm, reeling you back into reality.

You shut your mouth, your eyes cleared of their daze. “Right, yeah. Sorry.” You bit your lip, trying not to glance up at him as he walked past you & Alana.

“I will, um,” you struggled, “throw away my salad.” You cast your friend a look as you got up & picked up your lunch tray.

“I have history next. I guess I’ll see you after school?” You asked her. Alana nodded, a small smirk on her face.

“Oh god, please don’t give me that look,” you said to her as you began to walk away, slinging your backpack over your shoulders.

“IT’S THE LOOK PEOPLE GIVE WHEN YOU WASTE PERFECTLY GOOD ARUGULA, Y/N.”

You couldn’t help but crack a smile. Turning, you shot her a salute before dumping your food in the trash & heading to your next class.

That night, Jared called you. At a very late time, to say the least.

You groaned as you hit the green ‘accept’ button. “What the fuck could you possibly want at three in the goddamn morning, Jared Kleinman?”

Jared chuckled over the line. “Welp, I can’t sleep. Actually, no. I have a project to do but I’m too much of a lazy ass to complete it so here I am calling you.”

“Can’t you just bother Evan instead of me?” you rubbed groggily at your eyes, yawning. “I’m serious, do you have a death wish or something? I’m way too tired to beat you up, but I will eventually.

“Come on, Y/N. I’m bored. Talk to me.”

“No.”

“Then I’ll just talk to you. Ooo, about those sketches of Connor-”

You sat bolt upright in your bed. “How the hell do you know about those?”

“Someone found a few tucked inside a desk today. Eventually, they made their way to Connor.”

You felt your heart stop.

“Oh my god-”

“But don’t worry, nobody knows it was you. Just Alana & I.”

No one was there, but you imagined the eyes of everyone at school on you as you blushed in embarrassment.

What would Connor say? What would he think of you? What if he found out? What would everyone say?

You were so close to being busted.

“Jared, I swear, if Connor ever finds out, I will be publicly shunned.” You ran a hand through your hair, tugging slightly at the strands. “Jesus Christ, what am I going-”

“Hey hey hey, don’t freak out. You are a pretty good artist by the way-”

“Not helping, Kleinman.”

“Um, your interpretation of the tall, dark, & brooding Mr. Sexy Murphy is very detailed-”

“That doesn’t help either.”

“You know what-”

“Ok. I’m going to back to sleep & going to try to impossibly ignore what you have just told me while it nags in the back of my mind like a parasite. Good night, Jared.”

You hung up the phone & let out an even bigger groan than the one you let or earlier. “Shit.” You muttered to yourself.

You fell back, stuffing your pillow in your face. You let out a loud groan-ish scream, absolutely dreading school the next morning.

“I’m ruined. Demolished. Destroyed. I will die.” You panicked at your locker with Evan, Jared, & Alana.

“If he finds out anything, he will hate me for the rest of my days.” You sighed, letting your back hit your locker door shut.

You held your English books in your hand, your palms sweaty.

“D-Don’t think of it as the end of the world, Y/N,” Evan nudged you with his cast, offering you one of his sweet smiles. “It’s not the worst that could happen.”

“Yeah, & besides-” Alana began,

“-he’s walking this way right now & looking at you,” Jared cut her off, glancing anxiously at someone coming down the hallway.

You didn’t have any time to react, because Connor Murphy came right past you, his eyes lingering on you for a few hopeless seconds before focusing in front of him.

“Oh my god, I think he knows.” you breathed out once he was gone.

And so, in the days that followed the discovery of the Connor sketches, you observed that he would look at you more often than ever before.

He’d sit near you in class & steal glances at you every now & then, his eyes on you for longer than what seemed normal.

If you weren’t covered in shame, you would kind of like the attention you were getting.

But under these circumstances, this was probably the worst that could happen.

You had held off any sort of drawing for at least two weeks, & that itch to pick up a pencil was bothering you like crazy.

So, one day, you managed to snatch a seat at the back of the classroom. Connor was nowhere to be seen, but it turns out he was only a few minutes late. 

The only spot available was one in the front row, one that was far away from you.

As soon as class started, you pulled out your sketchbook, drawing silently.

You kept it concealed under your textbook.

Your pencil sketched lines & bases, the shadows of his cheekbones & the curls of his hair falling into his face.

His eyes were your favorite part to draw, they seemed infinite, like you could get hopelessly lost inside them.

They reminded you on the ocean, seemingly bottomless & hauntingly beautiful, just like him.

Furrowing your eyebrows, you were trying desperately to get his jawline just right. If you erased some of the dark shadow you had-

“Miss Y/LN, may I ask why you are drawing in my class when you should be paying attention to the lecture?”

The sound of your teacher’s sharp voice made you jump. Your head snapped up, meeting the stares of everyone in the class, including Connor.

Your pencil dropped to the floor.

“I’m sorry, I was- I was just sketching something for art class.” You shut your sketchbook, your cheeks flushing pink.

You bent down to pick up your pencil.

“You better be sorry. One more time, & I’ll see you in detention, young lady.”

You nodded in understanding, the teacher turning back to the board.

Everyone turned around, the tension still thick in the air. You tried to ignore everything, your eyes fluttering shut for just a moment.

When you opened them, Connor’s eyes were there, gazing at you with curiosity & interest.

You stared back.

It turns out you were right. You really could get lost in those eyes of his.

Alana had a meeting with one of her teachers during lunch, so you had to sit alone.

Once again, you poked tirelessly at your salad, taking the lives of a few more cherry tomatoes.

You had a book in your hand, reading to try to pass time.

You were trying your hardest not to sneak a glance Connor’s way; he was sitting just a few tables in front of you.

You ate in silence, looking up every now & then out of pure fear that he’d simply march up to you & call you out right in front of everyone.

You had such a hopeless crush on him that you didn’t even think it mattered anymore.

You gazed up as one of the school’s football players entered the cafeteria.

Jason was quarterback & just so happened to be a huge dick. He held a football in his hand like he always did, & you lowkey judged the guy for carrying one around everywhere.

But in his other hand was the exact thing you had been terrified of for weeks now.

He was holding your sketches. Your sketches of Connor Murphy.

You dropped your book, letting it fall to the floor with a loud thump. You felt your breath hitch in your throat, your pulse racing.

You couldn’t do anything but watch as Jason strutted his way over to Connor, sitting alone.

Fortunately for you, your sketches had gained some popularity. Everyone in school was dying to find out who was that much of dork to see something beautiful in that creepy kid Connor Murphy.

You bit the inside of your cheek as Connor finally noticed Jason standing in front of him, shooting the football player a small glare.

Moving fast, you retrieved your book & stuck your head in it, shoving your tray of food away from you.

The next time you looked up, Connor was there with the pages in his hands, a look of confusion on his face. His face softened as you saw his eyes scan over your drawings.

You were frozen.

Jason stood with his arms crossed, chuckling. He playfully slapped Connor’s back before walking away to his next class.

Connor’s brows furrowed in interest as he shifted the papers in his hands. You couldn’t begin to interpret the look on his face.

He would study each one for about five minutes, & you could tell he was puzzled at the fact that someone out there was drawing every single expression on his face.

You had to stare at him now. You couldn’t peel your eyes off the way he was looking at your sketches. If he ever-

And just like that day in calculus class, his eyes somehow found yours throughout the infinite crowd of students in the cafeteria.

They pierced yours with a sort of glint, as if he knew that all those sheets of paper were your doing.

You blinked suddenly, turning away from him & clamping your book shut. You slung your bag over your shoulder, picking up your lunch tray with it.

As quickly as you possibly could, you stormed out of the cafeteria, dumping your lunch tray.

Maybe you could afford to be ten minutes early to chemistry. Just anything to get that beautiful stare off of you.

Connor watched you as you rushed off, his eyes trailing to the sheets of paper in his hands.

These drawings were beautiful.

Beautiful couldn’t even seem to describe them as he noticed every detail that he failed to recognize.

But somehow you had.

The wispy curls of his hair & the slight dip in the bridge of his nose, the angled sharpness of his cheekbones & the curve of his mouth.

There had to be a possibility that Y/N had drawn these.

They were, evidently, the art teacher’s favorite student. They’d won multiple awards for their art, even.

Connor didn’t know what to say. He had never seen himself in the way they interpreted him.

It was like they drew his vulnerability, the boy under the dark & rough exterior.

Y/N drew the boy beneath the heated glares & the harsh persona. They drew the Connor underneath all the ugly parts; at least that’s how it was to him.

Somehow, Y/N Y/L/N  had drawn the real Connor Murphy.

And the corners of his lips curved into the smallest of smiles at the thought.

Shutting your locker with a loud slam, you made some of the other people around you jump.

Muttering a small “sorry”, you pushed past the crowds of students trying to get to class, your mind clouded.

Everything in your head was Connor, Connor, Connor. Sketches, sketches, sketches. I am fucked, I am fucked, I am fucked.

Anxiety played a horrible part in your life, & even the littlest things could set you on edge & make you worry even when you knew you shouldn’t.

They made your hands shake & your chest ache like hell.

You scolded yourself for being careless with those sheets of paper; you knew you had a habit of leaving things behind.

And if the entire school found out, you’d definitely be shunned.

And if Connor found out, you were sure he’d be creeped out & never notice your existence again.

With all these horrible results playing in your head, you completely zoned out, & were shot back into reality once you walked right into something hard, your books & binder crashing to the floor, papers spilling almost everywhere.

You cursed. “Shit, I’m so sor-” you muttered as you bent to retrieve your things, your hands flying everywhere before people could step on them.

“It’s fine.”

Before he could even get down to help you, you already knew it was him.

That husky, but somehow velvety voice of his echoed through your ears with a thrum.

You looked up, & were eye level with the one & only Connor Murphy. You were lost all over again.

What lasted a few mere seconds felt like minutes to the both of you. He was looking at you, trying to find something.

Without knowing why, you broke away from his gaze, moving to shuffle your papers in order. He helped you, getting on his knees & handing you over some chemistry homework.

“Um, thanks.” As you took them, your fingertips brushed his ever so slightly, & you felt a zing of electricity zap its way to your chest.

You got up slowly, shifting the weight of the backpack on your shoulders. Connor did the same, adjusting the strap on his messenger bag.

“Anytime.” he seemed to shrug, running a hand through his messy hair. You smiled shyly in response, turning to make your way to the class you were already late for.

“I guess I’ll see you around?” You heard him call after you.

Did he really just say that to you? You turned back, fiddling with the straps of your backpack.

“I, uh,” you stuttered, balancing on your heels, suddenly nervous. But then again, when were you not around him?

“Um, yeah.” You shot Connor another attempt at a smile. “I’ll see you around, Connor.” You raised your hand in a small wave, swallowing your anxiousness.

You turned & took a deep breath before making your way to class.

Jesus Christ, he really did just say that to you.

Connor swore once you were out of sight, cursing his social awkwardness. He didn’t want you to feel anxious around him, he really didn’t.

If anything, he wanted to get to know you. But you were probably onto him for knowing about him knowing about your sketches.

God, it was all so complicated.

For once in his sad & seemingly imperfect life, he liked someone. He wanted someone, & that someone was you.

His fascination with you started when you both entered high school in the same grade. He thought you were subtle, if that ever was a good quality. Connor liked the way you smiled & laughed & bit your lip whenever you tried to conceal your infectious grins.

He thought you were perfect, unlike him. He was always that creepy kid in the corner, with his messy hair & dark clothes. You were bright & radiated light, you spoke through your art in ways no one could.

Most of all, he thought you were real. You weren’t like most girls at your age, you were quieter & spent your time with a few close friends. You weren’t fake. You weren’t a wannabe.

You were perfectly content with being Y/N.

Y/N, who showed up to last year’s prom in beat up converse & spent the whole night alone with nothing but their pens & a sketchbook.

Y/N, who drew a mustache on the substitute teacher with a sharpie in junior year while he was sleeping.

Y/N, who in freshmen year received their first art award, beating out several seniors & a sophomore.

And Y/N, who had managed to fascinate Connor within the course of four whole years of high school. They were always quiet in class, their pencil scribbling either the notes on the board or spilling out their creativity onto paper.

Reaching into his back pocket, Connor pulled out the sketches he had folded up. From what he had seen; from seeing the way Y/N saw him, he was sure that sometimes the quietest people have the loudest minds.

You stuffed numerous textbooks into your locker, sighing as you tried to straighten them up in such a messy space. You stayed after school for an hour for tutoring. Apparently your grades in history were starting to drop, but so was your state of mind.

Brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, you took a deep breath before shutting your locker. You thought the hallways had to be empty by now, save one person.

You jumped once you saw him there, right next to you, as if waiting for something. Your mouth couldn’t form words until the both of you spoke.

“Y/N.”

“Connor.”

You bit your lip as he looked at you; of course you had to be much shorter than him. His tall, lanky frame stood before you, & he shifted his weight from foot to foot.

He reached into his messenger bag, slipping out the inevitable.

Your sketches.

You could feel yourself gulp & your cheeks flush red.

“Someone gave these to me a few weeks ago. I was wondering if they were yours.” He said to you, his voice surprisingly soft. The look on his face was sympathetic, but understanding at the same time. He unfolded the sheets of paper, revealing multiple different views of his face.

One was a profile portrait, & you remember how hard you worked to get the angles of his jawline soft but sharp. Another was a front-facing one; you had drawn him with strands of his curly hair falling into his face, his lips slightly pursed.

That was the only sketch you managed to color, working with oil pastels until you got the blue in his eyes just right. Balancing the blue with the rich brown in his right eye also proved to be a challenge.

The sketches were slightly crumpled, evidence of them probably being passed around. The whole school had probably already seen all of these, which only made the flush on your cheeks darken.

“I,” you couldn’t make yourself say the words. You could feel your heart pounding, like it would explode out of your chest any second. Connor’s gaze never left you, even for a moment.

“Yeah, they’re mine.” You finally said, not wanting to look him in the eye. It would all be too much. “I’m really sorry if you think I’m strange or weird, or if I’m obse-” You started to go off, listing everything negative that Connor probably thought of you, feeling your gut twist.

But not before he stopped you.

“No, no, no. Not at all.” You stared up at him in disbelief. Connor noticed the look on your face, speaking again to expand on his statement. “I mean, I don’t think you’re weird. These sketches are…” He stopped for a moment, as if debating on what to say next.

You did nothing but listen, hoping he wouldn’t think you a fool.

“They’re just…” He looked at the sheets of paper in his hand, his eyes skimming over every detail. “They’re so good. Amazing, actually.”

You couldn’t help but furrow your brows in confusion. “But I, I just thought…”

“That I’d be mad?”

You looked up at him & nodded. “I thought you’d hate me, & that’s the least thing I’d ever want from you, & I’m sorry If I…” You trailed off, not even noticing you were backing away from him slowly.

“I’m sorry if me drawing you is uncomfortable or anything, because I can stop & leave you alone & we can pretend none of this shit ever happened-”

“Y/N.”

Suddenly, his hands were on your shoulders, your name being spoken with such clarity that you couldn’t even begin to describe. His eyes were closer than ever before, & you could see the flecks of green in the blue of his eyes & the rich gold & amber mixed with the chocolate brown color you adored so much.

Curls fell into his face, framing his cheekbones like a curtain frames a stage. You felt your breath hitch in your throat, the feeling of his hands gripping your shoulders something new altogether.

“I’ve never seen anything like what you draw. It’s remarkable, actually. I’ve just, I’ve never seen myself like, like the way you see me.” He let go of your shoulders, stepping back, & gesturing to the sketches in his hands. He handed them over to you, & once again, your fingertips brushed, sending current after current of electricity through you.

You stood breathless with your sketches in your hands. “When people think of me, they think dark & gloomy,” Connor stuffed his hands into his pockets, “they don’t think of me looking like, looking like an angel…” He shot you a shy smile.

You felt heat radiate to your cheeks. “Connor, I-”

“You draw me, Y/N. The real me. The one that all these losers fail to look for.” He gestured around the halls with his arms. He took a breath & sighed, bringing his arms to his sides.

“I have no fucking clue how you do it, but…” He looked at you, his eyes skimming over your face for any sign of emotion. “I just hope to god I’m not making you feel weird with all these compliments, I’m sorry…” He gazed down at his feet, toying with a strap on his bag.

“I like you, Connor.”

You spat it out in the midst of it all, not being able to keep it inside any longer. This was the reason why you drew him every day, 24/7. You couldn’t contain it.

His head snapped up at your words, his eyes immediately searching yours for a reason, an answer, or something.

“I draw you because I think you’re beautiful & perfect without a single flaw, & because there’s nobody else in this goddamn hellhole who’s like you, or acts like you, or mutters stupid protests against school in calculus class like you do. There’s never gonna be another Connor Murphy who tramples over the school hierarchy in those same lace up boots every day, & I can’t help but capture every single-”

And before you could finish, his lips were on yours.

You felt his hands on your face, the softness, yet roughness, of the way he had crashed into you, the pads of his thumbs brushing your cheeks. He surged forward like a wave in a vast ocean, overcoming you like a tsunami.

He had loomed over you, the curve of his mouth slanting to meet yours with a violent crash, & you tilted your head up to meet this wave head on. His lips were warm & soft against yours, moving with a rhythm, much like a current in the water.

You were kissing Connor Murphy.

His fingers tangled themselves into the strands of your hair, deepening your kiss. You were hopelessly drowning in him, your breath being stolen away every time his lips captured yours, pulling you deeper down from the surface.

You were being dragged away, but you didn’t care.

Before it could reach a climax, you pulled away from him, resurfacing with your heart still beating. His hands were still on your skin, his breathing ragged.

“Connor,” You whispered, breathless. “That was-”

“I’ve been wanting to do that since freshmen year.”

You chuckled at his words, your eyes meeting the ocean blue of his own. He let his hands drop, although he remained close to you.

“You’re remarkable.” You muttered, moving to tuck away a curl of hair that had fallen into his face. “I hate it.” There was a playful glint in your eye.

Connor simply smiled, the widest you had ever seen. “No,” he counteracted, “You & your sketches are remarkable.” Shyly, he took your hand.

“And I love it.”

[illusivegore]

Gore Reviews Concrete Genie

Release Date: October 8, 2019 Platforms: PlayStation 4 

I’ve always had a great love and deep appreciation for art of all forms. Drawing and doodling have been some of my favorite hobbies for years, and when I was in grade school, I was quite the artist. Sadly, I never honed or improved those skills, and to this day, I still have the artistic talent of a seven year old. In recent years I’ve found that I’ve resorted to living vicariously through other people’s abilities, in the form of watching videos and other less interactive means, to get my artistic fix, which isn’t so satisfying. Concrete Genie appeared to be a game that focused greatly on creativity, so my biggest question going in was just how much or how little it would make me feel like I had some semblance of artistic talent. Let’s find out the answer to that question, shall we?

As Concrete Genie begins, we meet a young boy named Ash who is hanging out in a port town known as Denska as he draws in his sketchbook and remembers better times. This was once a beautiful, bustling place, but has become a rundown mess overrun by juvenile delinquents. As Ash continues to sketch, a group of these bullies start to torment him, eventually destroying his sketchbook and locking him in a tram destined for a “haunted” lighthouse.

Without getting into specific details, I just wanted to take some time to mention the story here. I will say that Concrete Genie does have an important message about bullying and friendship, but I also couldn’t help but feel like most of the overarching themes came across as predictable and cliché. This isn’t to say that it’s inherently bad, but I’ve seen this type of story told before and with better execution. I never felt any real attachment to any of the characters because of this, resulting in most of the narrative falling kind of flat for me.

Upon arriving at the lighthouse, Ash has an experience that ends with him wielding a magical paintbrush and being tasked with putting his sketchbook back together and bringing life back to Denska. To do this he will need to paint pictures all around town using the pages he finds from his book as inspiration. As he collects pages he begins to unlock a variety of landscapes that he can use to spruce up Denska. These range from trees and grass to the sun and stars and some can be absolutely beautiful at times. As art is added to walls and buildings, light strands will begin to illuminate in the area, and a new section of town will unlock once enough of these have been lit up. Then this process repeats until enough light has returned to Denska and Ash is able to create a “masterpiece” painting in each of the game’s three main areas.

These landscape murals aren’t the only things Ash paints in Concrete Genie either. As the title hints at, he’ll also be creating creatures called genies. These genies aren’t simply artwork though, as they serve a greater purpose in Ash’s world. He will need to use them to solve simple puzzles throughout Denska, usually as ways to open new paths forward. There are three types of genies, with each used to solve a different kind of puzzle. Red genies can burn tarps, yellow genies can generate electricity, and blue genies can create wind. Genies can only be created in specific areas and are automatically designated a color/type taking much of the guess work out of which kind will be needed in that area. While a genie type can’t be chosen at will, as Ash finds more pages from his sketchbook a number of customization options such as new bodies, tails, horns, and more will become available to outfit his genies with.

Ash’s main focus in Concrete Genie is painting and this is a pretty straightforward endeavor. Each painting starts by choosing one of the many landscape or genie pages found throughout the game and with each stroke of the brush an image inspired by the page will appear on Ash’s chosen canvas. There are slight changes to what is laid down by the brush based on how long each stroke is and mixing and matching landscapes is possible, but overall it’s a simple process that doesn’t allow for much real artistic freedom.

Painting using the Dualshock 4 can be done with or without motion controls. Holding down the R2 button will begin the paint process and, depending on the chosen control scheme, moving either the controller itself or the right stick will emulate brush strokes. Concrete Genie was clearly made with motion controls in mind and while I found both ways were intuitive and worked just fine, after the first couple of chapters I switched off motion controls and never looked back. Precision is never technically needed, as the game doesn’t care what Ash has painted just as long as something was painted in the locations that needed it.  Still though, I felt I could be slightly more precise using the right stick than I could with motion controls and overall it just felt more comfortable.

Unfortunately, this painting mechanic never clicked for me, in the sense that I quickly ended up getting bored with it. I was given dozens of landscape pages to use to express myself, but only a couple felt satisfying to paint with. Aside from the first few instances, each time I started a new painting section it felt exactly the same as the last and eventually it just felt more like busywork that I had to do rather than actual creativity. This was even more apparent to me when it came to the creation of genies. There are so many parts to collect, but in the end they felt like they offered only very minor differences, and by a point, I had a hard time creating genies that I felt were truly unique. I knew this game was never going to make me feel like I was an actual artist, but I was still left disappointed in what it did end up offering.

When Ash isn’t painting, he’ll be spending his time trying to avoid those bullies in more action-adventure style gameplay. It feels somewhat similar to the Uncharted games (without all the machine guns), as he’ll be platforming around town, going from rooftop to rooftop, and climbing all number of structures to reach new areas and escape the bullies. If Ash does happen to get caught by the bullies or miss a jump, the punishment for “death” isn’t harsh at all. He’ll always start from the last safe place he was, and at worst, may need to retrieve his lost paintbrush.  

This painting and platforming structure is how Concrete Genie plays for the majority of its six to eight hour length, but about three-quarters of the way through, the gameplay gets turned on its head. I can’t go into much detail without spoiling some of the story bits, but it ends up going from a game about painting to one about fighting. While this new focus on combat does mix things up, the result felt mostly like tacked on filler. Some parts in this final section were so tedious that it actually had me longing for the return of the boring painting.  

I didn’t hate my time with Concrete Genie. I can’t say I particularly liked it either and was left massively disappointed. Painting was interesting the first few times, but eventually ended up feeling like boring busywork. The platforming and exploration is fine, but if that’s what I wanted out of a game, there are dozens of other ones that do it far better. The ending’s focus on combat left me scratching my head and wishing I could just go back to the painting. That said, Concrete Genie does offer up some beautiful imagery at times, has mechanically sound gameplay, and delivers an important, if a bit cliché, message about bullying and friendship. Unfortunately, with all of its other shortcomings, that just isn’t enough for me to wholeheartedly recommend it.

Score: 2.5 out of 5