serious game with Themes
agent of innocent: feet
innocentverse
👁️
XRAFSTAR
Xrafstar (“evil animal” in Middle Persian) are vermin/human hybrids. It is forbidden for Ahriman to directly attack humanity, so xrafstar come from possession and contracts.
Aristocrats are dynastic haunts, passing down their personalities through human vessels instead of giving birth to heirs. This is a lossy process that can lead to hyper-dementia.
Amiantos
I live in a building with my parents and hundreds of other people. We will live here for the rest of our lives, and our children will do the same. Categorized PL, Permanent Life. Prison-for-life.
The loudspeaker: …subtropical lowlands, clay and limestone, pseudo-desert, mineral steppe…
In one of the common areas, I see a soldier through the bars, smoking outside. At this second, no one else is near us.
I say, “I can see us together at the war crime tribunal in twenty years.”
agent of innocent: flip phone
greenie made a beautiful UI for the game: Perfect’s INNOCENT-issue flip phone. the last time phones were MANLY.
check your stats, fashion, inventory, messages; each menu is a program in your phone, and you can unlock more (i like the idea of porn, malware, “lil pal” progs, etc…)
“back button”? ok homo. how about you kill something if you want to go back that bad?
when it comes to UI, style is INFINITELY more important than substance. we do not “User Interface” we “Loser Interface”. from the moment your player clicks the mouse they have lost. they are undoubtedly a slimy failure and cannot be reasoned with. it is beyond fact that “gamers” are the ruined fuckholes of the consumer world.
“good UI”? “minimal”? “clarity”? “accessibility features”?
get the fuck out of here…
the gamer is an animal who will click through ten menus in their favorite jrpg just to pick up a rock or some shit. gaming is an expression of their innate desire to submit. “SUBmenus”? hello???
UI is also an expression of the player’s stats. the higher a stat, the more it inflicts its way of organizing information on you…but that’s a story for another day!!
agent of innocent: perfect tense
working on a BL game with greenie (beautiful art!!) and riley (beautiful music!!)
that’s right
a Bug’s Life game, sickos
Bug’s Love?
it’s a horror game about vermin, sugar, knees, fashion, torture, obsession, just normal guy stuff
the GUI must display the name of the protagonist and his zodiac sign at all times
no serious game would deviate from this principle
Perfect Tense is an agent of INNOCENT
☣️🐝🕷️🦟 READ MORE 🦟🕷️🐝☣️2022 end of year post
the reaction to serious weakness was amazing…perfect…so happy. the outcomes i desired came true.
👁 MORE 👁honeydew toxicity event
>mom comes in
>anon why are there one million mountain dew bottles
>mountain dew is a complete protein dont be a faggot mom
>dumb cunt looks at me like i just blew her fucking mind
Do you fuck your mom?
she’s a faggot and you’re a butt baby
AIDS baby
hydrofags ITT
water made my sister bipolar
Mountain Drew
Rapyed
Anon has a serious problem and we need to be sensitive. If you don’t get your hydration purely from pussy juice kys inshallah
__call it au jus the way you’re penciling roasties
____only walls homies getting are when he activates onetap
Xrafstarverse + Fanart
some pics for a game i’m working on…
gotta have dice because its important for the player to understand their fate is at the whim of cruel, capricious forces beyond themselves
👁 MORE 👁Soft Now
My corner store lighter drops to the blackened heath where thousands of charred worms lay. I pick it up and flick it until my censer lights and I close my eyes as the fumes fill me with a better world.
Baas looks up from his twelve hammers, trying to assess a body count from the different colors of hair sticking to the claws. “You know that kills you, right?”
“It kills them faster.”
👁️ MORE 👁️Xrafstar Killers
your friend played this game. he helped you beat the parts you couldn’t beat. but he’s gone now. you’re at his house as the rain beats down and the living room smells like wet wood and carpet uncleaned since you were kids. Dim light cuts the room in half, the rest shadow from which you deliver his old CDs and cartridges into a cardboard box because his parents said do whatever with his stuff, wouldn’t understand what they were looking at, what it means to a kid. Xrafstar Killers for the PSP, the scratched, smeared disc so light in your hands like it couldn’t possibly contain that deep, dark, beautiful world you stumbled through, grabbing the console back, trying to impress him, plastic sticky from shared sweat.
you break the disc in the kitchen and pick up the biggest shard. you’re running out of things to believe in. you cut yourself in the lines you learned before that post was deleted for violating the community code of conduct. this world is the false one. the dream is real. the post warned that every captive world has become hell in the absence of the hearts of children. that tyrants have taken control. that you should think twice about entering a place where death is torture’s blink. where you can’t shut it off if it becomes too much, a razor-lined wheel of reincarnation. it doesn’t matter. you’ll see him again, in whatever form you fit inside, in the world of Xrafstar Killers. To never be alone.
Why Have You Not Yet Gone to War
On that day, I was supposed to go to the festival and trade my knife in. I was supposed to meet the old man at his table and hand it over. This was a promise I made to him, after a long and serious discussion. He was the kind of dignified old man who did not become angry, only disappointed. The kind where silence became its own condemnation, not from him, necessarily, but because you were reminded of every good thing you were letting down. Something fine and noble in the universe reflected off him, bounced from some unknown source beyond my own access. So the promise had some weight to me.
The festival was to be held at the high school, on the lawn and parking lot, with all kinds of tables and booths. There was even supposed to be an animal of some kind there, for entertainment.
👁️ MORE 👁️Fall
the body crushes the soul
I grew up thinking people like me are bad.
But the way society is set up.
There’s no way to be close to people.
I was terrified the first time.
Thought I was going to throw up.
It’s about getting in the right mental place.
Letting it build up.
Late at night.
Drugs help. But they can impair your judgment. You don’t want to lose track of time. Peripheral vision. Or you start to psyche yourself out. A little alcohol is fine for confidence. Too much and you fuck yourself over. Can’t get hard. Can’t keep track of time. Weed is out. Stimulants are better.
Saving Face
The boss’s son always tells me to bite their ears off, I don’t wanna bite their ears off, I have texture issues with the cartilage. But in the end I’d bite all night for this guy. They don’t even look human at the end. Then again neither do I.
You gotta leave some face though. Or you forget what you’re even doing.
*
I spin the chair around. It’s so light without the guy on it. Just a red shadow dissolving on the seat.
“Anything else I can do for you?”
The boss’s son says, “You’ve got something in your teeth.”
I pick it out with the nail I keep sharp for this purpose, I don’t even know what it is. I get deep in there, you know. Scientists discover new body parts every day. I love that. It keeps me hopeful.
“I was saying, anything else I can do for you?”
But he’s already back in the swimming pool, deaf with water. I watch his limbs ripple like what I’m digesting in my stomach.
*
After watching what I do, the boss’s son won’t let me suck his dick anymore.
I guess once you become the dog, you’re useful in a different way. He won’t soil himself with beasts. Or he simply doesn’t want to get his dick bit off.
But I don’t think my teeth are sharper than any other guys. It’s strictly mental.
*
The doctor says I have a tapeworm. Could explain a few things. He wants to give me some Praziquantel. The label says EXPELS TAPERED AHRIMANFORMS. I tell him I’m not shitting out my honor and my value and my devotion. Not unless God himself sucks it out of me.
He says, take the vermifuge. You never know.
*
Leave me enough face for the funeral, Carafe says. He’s old school. Thinking of his family.
I look to the boss’s son for approval. He’s filing his nails like I wish I could file my teeth. He says, sure.
I say, no promises, but I’ll start from the toes, and we’ll see how it goes.
Carafe says, oky doky.
*
I hop up and down, trying to make the smoke hit my lungs faster.
“What are you doing?” the boss’s son says.
“Nothing. I’m good to go.”
“Let me see your teeth.”
I open my mouth wide like the dentist. He looks inside, eyes narrowed. I’m open so long I start drooling, then I start sweating.
He finally says, “Is your stomach empty?”
“I could make it be empty.”
“I just want to make sure this goes smoothly. We’re doing two guys tonight.”
“Two. Wow.”
“Is that a problem?”
“Maybe for them, if you know what I mean, heheheh.”
He takes the cigarette from my fingers and sniffs it. He’s quitting, but it’s hard. I know the longer he smells it, the harder it’ll get. I watch to see what he’ll do.
*
Two chairs, two guys, one of them is actually a lady, but you can’t tell anymore. I wish we tortured more women. I’m not retrograde, I believe in equality of the sexes. But it’s hard biting through some of these guys. All the piercings, tattoos, hair, calluses, gristle. Eating a woman is like eating two or three kids stacked on top of each other. And to be frank, I needed the assist. Never did two guys before. Wasn’t sure I could do it. But I’d never say no to the boss’s son. I’ll keep singing even if my voice breaks, you know, as long as the camera stays on me.