Hey my best work is on sale and I would like you to buy it please. If you like queer SFF or interactive fiction or light novels, please consider supporting an experimental author in a trying time. 💙 inurashii.itch.io

My main Twitter was posting restricted. The new one was shadowbanned within a day.

I don't understand what I'm doing wrong.

the feeling of closing all of your pill minder's doors at once after you fill it. boost if u agree

I'm hoping to stream some Caves of Qud tonight, probably around 19:00 EST. twitch.tv/inurashii

I'm starting a small twine intfic inspired by our current situation but oblique enough that it has its own narrative.

I'm not yet to the point where it flows freely; it always takes some time to get there.

But it's nice to be doing a little solo gamedev too

I think it's good? I think it's a good idea. The narrative/atmosphere are going to be very quietly spooky, and I'm gonna put together some atmospheric sound if I have the time/energy.

Advertising it without my main Twitter account is gonna be challenging.

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it's gonna be a daily loop narrative sort of like howling dogs but with much smaller and more numerous progressive changes from day to day and a few random elements thrown in. Routine under prolonged duress.

I think it should be doable to make a 15-20 min experience without too much heavy lifting. Can probably get a draft within a week, health permitting.

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I'm starting a small twine intfic inspired by our current situation but oblique enough that it has its own narrative.

I'm not yet to the point where it flows freely; it always takes some time to get there.

But it's nice to be doing a little solo gamedev too

food, advertisement 

At least Big Daddy's Pizza is still sending me bizarre e-mail ads with 16:9 screenshots that include the web person's browser tabs. That blessed normalcy

It was less than a month ago that I found out that one of my favorite electronic music artists, Porter Robinson, is the brother of former video game journalist and avowed sex pest, Nick Robinson.

I was like "oh no way they're brothers" but then I looked at a picture of a younger Porter Robinson and I was like "oh no they definitely are"

existential dread poetry, candle/flame imagery 

the pressure from outside tugs a guttering candle flame, hastening the drips of wax that chase one another to be lost on the ground below.

what is a candle when the wick and wax are burned away?

does the candle become the smell of paraffin char, the ribbons of carbon vapor? Does it become the clarified drippings splattered useless and flat?

Or is it just the memory of extinguished light?

does it matter what it is?

does it matter that it's gone?

Still in twitter jail. I wish it didn't bother me so much

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