#walkabout games

[thecuddlymuffintop]

I'm now streaming Werewolf the Apocalypse: Heart of the Forest over on Twitch. Please feel free to either watch here or join me there with the following link:

Twitch

[heart-forge]

I think if I could make a total dream game I'd make a VR romance experience.

[caitykennedy]

I was creative director on the VR minigolf version of Numina for Walkabout Minigolf 😵‍💫

[alien-ian-mmorpg]

[experimental-intellection]

Genuinely thanking Mighty Coconut for their Walkabout Mini Golf VR game.

My brother lives in Colorado and the last few weeks my daughter and I, on separate Quest 2's, have been playing with him from Rhode Island... last night the three of us took a break mid game and chilled on a whale as it swam around the beautifully designed Atlantis map... We've gotten to geek out together on the Wallace & Gromit, Meow Wolf and Lair DLC's (creepy ass penquins 😅). We've all laughed over the involuntary excited shouts and mumbled expletives when balls get lazered at just the wrong moment (the ball physics are perfect)... This game comes very close to fulfilling the promise of VR and is very bonding.

Only feedback if anyone is listening is broadening out interactive elements, the occasional beach ball is great and we need more of that. Also a feature to give high fives would be fun too.

Also, my brother loves the Sir Didymus avatar.

[hackerwrench]

[hardcoregamer]

10 Best VR Games Currently Available

Want to know what it feels like being on a spacecraft? Check. Fancy solving mysteries in a noir-inspired city? We’ve got you covered. Love a good adrenaline rush? Look no further. And who says you can’t dance while gaming? So, from racing to horror, here are some of the most exciting games you can play with a VR headset.

Have a look!

[explode-this]

I was not prepared for the feels that would be evoked by returning to one of my favorite courses in Walkabout Mini Golf 😭 the scenery, the music, the feel of the last person I played it with ❤️‍🩹🌻💜

Still, it’s beautiful, and I’m glad I played. Also glad i got the Meow Wolf course, oh my god it’s a TRIP ✨

[studiomkm]

Anyone else play Walkabout Mini Golf?

I just recently completed all the Jules Verne DLC stages and HOLY SHIT did it blow me away!

Reimagining the Eiffel Tower as a dirigible airport? How is that not the coolest steampunk idea EVER?! And it’s for Around the World In 80 Days!! I read that book and WISH it had something that old-school sci-fi in it.

I ended up spending nearly an hour in that level alone just walking around feeling giddy with stars in my eyes, like a little kid. Oh how I wanted that feeling to last…

Okay, I just needed to gush about that for a bit. Feel free to chat away on this post if you wanna add anything or just ask questions or whatever.

[virtualrealitynewstoday]

《Walkabout Mini Golf》 推出全新Elvis拉斯維加斯主題DLC，並推出多款授權虛擬形象包

Mighty Coconut的《Walkabout Mini Golf》已經成為所有高爾夫愛好者的首選VR遊戲，無論玩家的年齡、體型或技術水平，都能在這裡體驗到最具沉浸感的高爾夫世界。該遊戲涵蓋了許多驚人的授權球場，包括以Cyan的《Myst》、Meow Wolf、Jim Henson的《Labyrinth》等為基礎的場景。現在，這個豐富的目錄即將擴展，新增一個受Elvis Presley標誌性魅力啟發的燦爛球場——“Viva Las Elvis!” DLC包。 執行副總裁Dana Carpenter表示：“我們非常興奮能夠在《Walkabout Mini Golf》中為全球玩家帶來Elvis獨特的拉斯維加斯時期形象。Mighty…

[reaperzvr]

WALKABOUT MINI GOLF | REVIEW

Walkabout Mini Golf - Mini Review If you don't own it, what are you waiting for?

Walkabout Mini Golf is a simple but elegantly beautiful game. Whether you’re challenging yourself on each of the amazingly crafted courses, jumping into a quick 1v1 online match, or playing with up to 7 friends in a private game, there is so much fun to be had for all ages. Jam-packed full of content, you should never get bored. New stunning and wondrous courses are added regularly for a modest…

[overwritexr]

[thedaveandkimmershow]

Yesterday was an A-B-A day. It was a day that began a particular way, pivoted to another, and the returned to the way it began.

How'd that work?

Well, by starting and ending the day on camp time and squeezing some city time into the middle.

We were a little lazier yesterday, getting up around 830 in the morning. There was still plenty of morning after that, though. Time to appreciate the quiet of the morning because the weekend crowd has yet to arrive. So if you're just sitting, not even thinking, you'll not only feel the wind... you'll hear it too. The rustling of trees. The white noise of the individual leafs. Just sort of all around and no particular place at all.

In the morning, the heat of the sun prevails. Even when the wind picks up you can still feel the sun. There is no cold here.

Until night, that is.

Camp time was even moreso yesterday. Because even moreso than yesterday we're in no rush.

We.

Are in.

No rush.

Therefore, getting ready for the day plays all the way out until noon to the tune of birds chirping and birds chirping and birds chirping in the surrounding trees. Somehow... not annoying. It's just the soft sound of the place coming up on mid-day.

By the way, when I said the thing about getting ready, I'm pointing out that a process we handle in under an hour at home just took about four.

And we. don't. care.

😉

Now, yesterday was also a little bit of a work day. Some charting and business planning Kimmer's gotta do. Some logistics I've gotta look into.

So we head off to Starbucks.

I know, right?

That never used to be a thing in my experience. When we were away for Boy Scouts... we were nowhere near civilization. Or so it seemed.

Nowadays, we're never that far away from a Starbucks. And where there's Starbucks there's civilization.

City time.

We order a pair of drinks then settle in for some business planning. After that, she settles into some charting while I take a crack at how we're gonna get from LAX to Irvine when the time comes for us to leave. LAX because that's where we're dropping Big Foot the campervan. Irvine, since we can catch a free ride from there. Because we're actually leaving from SNA. John Wayne. Since we got inexpensive return tickets at that airport.

Of course getting from point A to point B always has a solution. In our case, we're looking for a quick trip that doesn't cost an arm and leg. Turns out, though, that's a tall order. So by the time Kimmer's done with her round of work, we don't yet have a solution on that leg of our trip. Bummer... but we'll look at it again later with fresh eyes.

After Starbucks we have to, have to, go to McDonald's for ice cream cones. We just have to.

And the ice cream. Is. Yummy.

Then it's off to the Walmart Supercenter for dinner supplies, some battery powered lamps, and wood... only we walk away with only the dinner supplies and lamps. So we head over to Stater Brothers a few blocks away, score the wood, then score a vanilla sweet cream cold brew for Kimmer's cousin, Derek, back at camp 'cuz it's just not fair that we get vanilla ice cream cones and he gets nothing.

So we get him the cold brew this time around and all is well. 😁😁😁

Now the reason I just walked you through all this detail is that that's city time. You've got stuff to do. You do it. Stuff comes up. You pursue that. And because there's always some kind of agenda, some form of a To Do list at play, time moves faster. It gets by you. Then suddenly you're looking at a deadline and then you've gotta make that deadline.

Which we did, by the way. Six pm to start dinner.

That was the B section of our day. The one in motion.

Now I said before our day followed an A-B-A structure. Well it did, kind of. We returned to camp time... but with neighbors. At least three massive RV trailers, one to our left, two to our right, pulled in for a family weekend starting a day early.

And yes. One big family. Lots of family. They set up a volleyball net that attracted a number of teens for some volleying around. There was some kicking of a soccer ball, throwing of a football. Adults had plenty of space to relax around various camp fires. There was even a hanging seat in which either relax... or twirl around and around and around. And, as night started to fall, strings of lights were hung around all the social areas, making the campground look very festive indeed, with a public soundtrack that included some rap, some classic rock (Foreigner, AC/DC), and some Hispanic music.

So very festive.

And we were smack in the middle of it.

Of course this actually makes sense with us leaving today... as more family members will slide into our spot this afternoon.

Against that backdrop, Kimmer and Derek conjured a lovely dinner, after which we enjoyed time around the campfire (except Kyle who took it quite personally that smoke from the fire always seems to find him), and then Kimmer 'n I took a nighttime stroll around the loop, noting that the sky was still a touch light, not black enough to see the majesty of stars, the Milky Way, even, like you can see in Death Valley. I did, however, manage to make out The Big Dipper. And I spotted those stars, three in a row horizontally that are part of some other constellation whose name escapes me.

When we got back, it was time for card games around the table in our campervan, Big Foot, complete with the two lights we picked up at Walmart and the fairy lights Kimmer keeps in a pair of clear plastic containers. Of course the evening's games strike quite the contrast to the fairy lights. The first game that shall not be named didn't last super long as we wound up simply reading most of the cards instead. And no, believe it or not, it wasn't that game.

The one we played afterward, though, is a variation on that game. Call it more family friendly. We played it the night before and, this time around, we split the cards in fours and got rid of all the ones each of us thought weren't funny enough.

The game, by the way, is Jeff Foxworthy's "Relative Insanity". And it always manages to leave us in stitches.

It was just Kimmer 'n me and the boys. Derek was relaxing by the campfire and managed to meet some of our neighbors in the process. I'm guessing they talked some RV life.

By the time we called it a night, it was around midnight. Cold.

But we're adapting.

🙂

[crelypsis]

I’m going to play more VR games this year. Figured I could try my hand at game review vids as my excuse to keep trying out what’s out there. Let’s see how it goes !

[too-deviant]

ray bans.

with…ART DONALDSON!

contains…fem!reader, 18+ CONTENT!, handjob, p in v, public sex, this was written b4 the movie came out so excuse any discrepancies!

You blame the tequila.

Strong and sharp in your glass at the tennis luncheon your boss had invited you to, swishing around with every movement you made as you told an overexaggerated story to Art Donaldson. He didn’t pay a lot of attention, you could tell, but his eyes were so firm on yours that you needed to talk to get the nerves out. 

It was the tequila, not his eyes, that got you cornered in a bathroom too fancy to be anywhere but this cushy hotel, legs pushed back so far you felt a burn in the crease of your groin. Those dusty blonde curls buried between your thighs, perfectly calloused hands holding them apart so he could lap at you with perfect fervour. 

Your eyes were watering, and he gazed at you as you came down, rubbing up and down your legs until you were ready to push yourself down and onto your feet. You wiped the runoff mascara as best you could, but huffed at the stains around your eyes.

Art had grinned, slid his sunglasses from his collar and placed them perfectly over your eyes. You’d asked him when he wanted them back, and he’d just smirked. 

Which was how you found yourself scooting past old people in linen suits and straw hats, expensive bags and designer shades on their noses. Yours weren’t designer, but they were Art Donaldson’s, so you won. 

In this life you took your seat in the rows at the USTA Billie Jean King National Tennis Centre — a doozy of a sentence to tell your Uber driver. In this life you slid Art Donaldson’s sunglasses over your eyes and waited patiently for him to sidle onto the court, slam himself a win, and meet you in the bar to take them back. 

His hits were precise, hard, fast. The muscles in his arms and neck pulled beautifully. You pulled the plush of your lip between your teeth, letting it go when he hit another, his grunt louder to you know. Clearer. 

But as your eyes pivoted back and forth across the court, his opponents moves much more confident and fluid than his, the life changed. Now this life was a tense strain in your neck, your fingers tight around the dress you wore just for today. In this life, Art Donaldson lost, and when everyone else was cheering for the winner, you were watching him storm away. 

It was quicker to manoeuvre through the crowds now that everyone else was leaving. You didn’t have to worry about bumping into people, because they were all bumping into you and there was a collective agreement that any and all shoulder shoving slash toe-stepping was okay for now. So you slid your way through, sidestepping through the rows of seats and going down a row every time you got to some stairs — ensuring that it wasn’t completely obvious where you were going. 

You made awkward eye contact with the ball boy but your confident smile put him at ease and he dismissed you completely, allowing you to slip around the back of the stands and into the locker room. 

It was much quieter in there, the noise of the crowd fading into nothing when the door closed behind you. Now you could focus on your surroundings, the sound of water dripping and heavy breaths. 

You parted your lips gently, “Art?”

Footsteps, and then the blonde man was rounding a row of lockers and meeting your sly gaze. His own was shrouded in barely covered anger and light confusion, the latter crowing over a bit more when you took steps to invade his personal space. 

“You came.” 

“Well…” You shrugged, lifting the glasses off your head and tucking them into the collar of his polo. Letting your hand linger on the planes of his collarbones, feeling the heat radiating from the skin beneath the cotton. “That was quite some game.” 

Art huffed, “I was in walkabout. Shit luck.” 

You leaned ever so slightly closer, running your hand down his chest to just above the waistband of his shorts. You admired the way he looked under the lights — the beads of sweat on his jugular, the happy trail you could feel peek out from under the hem of the shirt. Your other hand stayed propped against the locker, and he was quick to run his own down your wrist, cupping your elbow. 

“Well…I say we pick up where we left off, no? That make you feel better?”

You narrowed your brows at him in a silent question. His minute nod was enough. Then your hand was sliding beneath his waistband, dipping into his underwear — Tommy Hilfiger — and wrapping around the base of his cock. 

He sucked in a breath, fingers tightening around your other arm, jaw ticking and eyes firmly on yours. You didn’t break contact even when you squeezed him a bit and he let out a shaky groan. 

You dropped your other hand, hooked your fingers around this waistband. Pulled it back so you could lean forward, eyes glaring at where your other hand sat. Then, with a noise so sweet he might have exploded, you let a string of spit slide from between your lips. Art watched it fall, achingly slow, onto his shaft, and then held back a cry when you started to slide your hand up and down his dick. Wetting it just right. 

You looked back up at him, made him look back at you. You pumped your fist slowly, thumbing his tip and adding his precum to your saliva. The sounds were erotic on their own, and even you had to tense your thighs together. Art’s own legs shook from his standing position, but before he could drop his head onto your shoulder you were removing both hands from his body and smirking at his painful moan. 

With your right hand still wet from his cock, you printed a perfect print on the front of his polo and pushed him gently back. He walked, transfixed on your gaze, until his calves were hitting the wooden bench and he was being sat down. He stared up at you, pleadingly so, and you lifted the hem of your dress just enough so you could slide onto your knees on either side of his hips. 

With your crotches pressed together, Art couldn’t stop his hands from flying to your ass and squeezing. You grinned, and his smirk returned in full force. 

“Should lose more often.” He murmured, leaning forward and pressing his nose against your chest, the low cut of your dress feeding his carnal desire to completely devour you. 

You hushed him gently, pushing yourself up so you could slide his shorts and boxers down to his thighs. His dick sprung out beautifully, making another wet patch where it hit the bottom of his shirt. You used your hand, brought one of his around so he could pump himself while you reached under your dress and pushed your underwear to the side. Then you were shuffling forward and letting Art align the tip of his cock with the wet of your folds.

You didn’t waste a moment, bracing yourself on his shoulders and rolling your hips along his own. Your breathy moans accumulated to the steam you had now registered coming from the shower he had abandoned in favour of letting you take him like this. His huffs and puffs only increased as he began to control your movements, rutting into you from below. 

The creaky hinges of the bench cried with every hurried thrust, but the shower muffled most of your sounds. You gave into your urges and licked a stripe up the plane of his neck, bringing your hands around to grip hard at his back, creasing his already ruined shirt. His own mouth was suckling and nipping at your chest, hitting that sweet sweet spot just in time for your movements to get a little sloppy. 

Smacks of skin on skin fuelled the fire in your gut, and your fingers coiled around his blonde curls. His own movements stuttered, and you let out a guttural groan into the humidity of the room when you finally reached your peak, Art following not far behind you. 

You stood with effort, fixing your underwear and patting your dress down while Art panted beneath you. Then you patted him on the cheek, took his sunglasses back from his shirt and put them right back on your face.

“I’ll see you at the mixer next month.”

divider by @bunnysrph 🫶

[sloshed-cinema]

Walkabout (1971)

The duality of Australia fascinates Nicolas Roeg in this tale of survival and innocence lost.  There exist two understandings of this unforgiving land tied inextricably to the nation occupying the space and its colonial legacy, separate and yet parallel.  It is foundational to the Aboriginal and European experiences here, bricks compared to bedrock in bookending montage of wilderness and cityscape.  Throughout the film, Roeg draws comparisons between practices, intercutting for instance between the preparation of game over an open fire and a butcher dressing a cut of meat in a shop.  And yet the experiences with the vast extent of the continent couldn’t be more different.  The central siblings’ depressive father hauls them out to the Outback in an attempt for a perfect disappearance, a murder-suicide sure never to be detected due to the harsh terrain and remote locale.  While the children survive, it’s only a matter of days before they are exhausted and spent, hardly able to continue.  Their struggles are contrasted against constant inserts of wildlife thriving in this environment.  These two are the ones out of place.  When the Aborigine boy arrives, he makes clear their lack of survival skills by showing them how to find water in a seemingly arid land.  Yet while these three get on well, the tension still exists: in a brief interlude, a man exploits Aborigine children to make cheap souvenirs for tourists, spray painting plaster figurines which are chintzy at best, racist at worst.  This is the Australia marketed and sold to the West.  He harasses a child, smearing white plaster on his chest in a cruel mockery of the body decoration the Aborigine boy adorns himself with before the dance in the final hours of his life.  When the siblings finally find contact with their world, it’s an up-tight mine owner whom they speak with, the king of his failing domain bitching about his over-irrigated lawn, more artificial assertion over the land.  The harshness of the Outback is real, but its forebodingness is perhaps more an artifact of cultural imperialism.  

At points, there is an almost Edenic quality to the Outback in Walkabout.  The ordeal proves to be a journey of discovery for the girl, finding herself in this wildness.  When they sleep at the watering hole, a snake slithers overhead in the branches of the first fruit they find and consume.  Later, another tree takes on a decidedly sexual undertone, emulating the supple thighs and sex of a woman as the trio attempt to climb it.  She gives herself wholly to it, skinny-dipping both alone and with the others in the cooling waters of a fortunately found pool.  The earthiness of this experience contrasts with the controlled environment of her upbringing, all memorization and school uniforms.  The radio, initially an umbilical cord to society and one which spews out lessons and contemplation about the end of society, eventually breaks, but by that point the girl doesn’t care.  She’s free in the moment.  Leaping forward into the future this experience still distracts her, oddly idyllic times for such a challenging ordeal.  

THE RULES

SIP

Closeup of a reptile.

Someone turns on a radio.

Freeze-frame montage.

BIG DRINK

Image of a brick wall.

Digeridoo playing.