For those of you who like short games (or just have five minutes to spare), the Broad Strokes Cooking Game is up on itch.io. You’ve got family or friends visiting, and you want to cook something nice, like a risotto or some stew. You follow the on-screen instructions (simple things like Chop! or Stir!) and go through every step of making the recipe. The idea is to make people feel more comfortable with the recipe after trying it a few times, since you’ll be carrying out every step (as opposed to cutting between various mini-game style steps, which doesn’t often feel as satisfying to me).
Tag Archives: Florencia Minuzzi
I’ve put up an interactive version of Choose Your Own Fantasy (Transparent Choice Edition) on itch.io, go and have a play for free!
If you’re curious, the original, text-and-hyperlink version is here.
‘What’s the other name for red blood cell?’ Erica asked while covering the relevant textbook passage with her hand.
‘E-ry-tho-CYTE,’ Clara said, counting every syllable with her fingers.
‘Good enough. Alright, number five, then we can go watch cartoons and have a big glass of chocolate milk. Read the rest of this entry »
Na na na, soaring through the night,
Na na na, ready for a fight…
Justice Cape Man!
‘Not this again,’ Robert said as he blindly reached for his phone. Read the rest of this entry »
From: Greg Thorpe
To: Leticia Reynolds
I had been waiting for long enough that the ice in my coffee had melted, topping my drink up by the amount I had already consumed – around thirty milliliters – and cleverly hiding the fact that I preferred to be half an hour early rather than on time. The condensation coalesced on my plastic cup and slid down its length, reminding me that any minute you would appear, your downcast eyes always in search of somewhere innocuous to land, probably starting with my coffee, inspecting the infusion of slow-roasted arabica beans with a dash of milk and, by that point in the cafe sojourn, the by-products of dissolved ice cubes.
Your form materialized on the other side of the street, slow steps weaving around other pedestrians equally frazzled by the rain, umbrellas being whipped from weak grips, grips that couldn’t hold on to what was dear no matter how hard they struggled, grips belonging to weak-willed people who had long since given up on attaining what should be theirs or reaching for something they could only fathom… Read the rest of this entry »