27 August 2012

Punching Oni (Still)






 The worst part about taking a hiatus from one's work is that one often cannot figure out where in the hell one managed to put said previous work.

I've explained to my wife that I have a very detailed and intricate system for saving files on my computer, and it works great.

For example, I either have files in my  /Users/MyStuff, or in /Users/MyDocuments/Scribbling, or in my pastebin online, or /Desktop/shortcuts/work, or /Desktop/work/writing, or in really any of a thousand other places, because, see, each one has a different use.

/Work/Writing is where I put things that I get paid to do, or things that I hope to get paid for some day, like commercially-oriented pieces to send in to a magazine or website.

/Shortcuts/work is where I put my work as I'm working on it, for things that I'm working on that aren't paid.

/MyStuff is for stuff I've saved, or stuff related to stuff I've saved from the internet.

/Scribbling is for ideas to throw at one's wall, see, and you scribble it out before you forget about the idea. Most of my stuff goes here, because I tend to be inspiration based rather than a stodgy type who punches out keys, sentence by sentence until the whole thing is done. In case you can't tell by the way I write, that is.

But anyways, I'm working on Oni Puncher. It's getting done, don't worry. It all needs to be rewritten, unfortunately, but each revision brings it closer to the way I'd envisioned it in the first place anyways.

(Before you ask, the PDF that I uploaded many moons ago was an extremely early playtest that I never actually got around to playtesting. It's the skeletal one-page rules version of a game that's not even halfway done, so take that as you will.)

24 August 2012

Surfacing



You are a citizen many years in the future when the population of the world has gotten so great, that mankind has dug out the center of the earth for its people to live in. But you are dissatisfied with life, with your job, and with existance in general. You hear muted whispers of the Surface, a place where the ceiling is miles above your head, where an incandescent bulb warms and soothes you during the day, where a great white sphere illuminates your path during the night. A place where enormous trees shade and comfort you. A place where the everpresent authorities cannot watch you.

It is where you must go. Nothing will stop you, not if you can help it.