mkb9/17/24

I need to take a few steps back. Let me explain.

I've been doing quite a bit of work on my project(s), but not making a lot of progress. It's been so long since I've been an amateur in anything I've been involved in, which is an interesting experience for two reasons. 1) It's good to know that I'm doing something new. 2) I've realized that I seem to have forgotten how to learn— at least in how it relates to starting from the very beginning of a learning curve.

I've been so enthusiastic about the process; I just want to jump in and start making these games. But I understand so little about digital game design. I've been following all of these tutorials on mechanic development for my specific project(s), but since I don't understand the base theory and logic of digital coding, for example, I can't troubleshoot the errors that inevitably happen, and I can't replicate any of the results without the tutorial.

Let's get into what I've done this week.

Th. 9/12/2024

I played Hogwarts Legacy for 1 hour today— to refamiliarize myself with how the spellcasting toggle system works. I want to have something similar in Pareidolia— but instead of spells, directions of attacks— and thus, alla prima.

I did the front angle as a first concept for the MC, Alice. He has a Gothic-style stone right arm, WWI-era breeches and boots, and a harness with an "A" on it— for "Anothen" not "Alice". (Anothen was the name of the top city of Ettingrad.) It also has a design for Mason, the sentient stone snake whip— including a little brush design at the base.

I did the Resources & Economy assignment for my worldbuilding class; I'm developing the setting for this game in that class. I made ten resources and outlined the economy.

Folkparts. Biological parts scavenged from fallen Folk. For example, this could be Baba Yaga's middle finger, Pinocchio's nose, a snortable amount of pixie dust, or anything else that might function for some dark, occult purposes. Folkparts are most valuable when they come from the bodies of Folk, but artefacts from those creatures are also sought after.

*Folk are the fairy tale creatures.

Artefacts. These are artificial possessions scavenged from Folk (you don't need to kill the previous owner in order to acquire them). The gnome prince's pointiest hat, Cinderella's crystal slipper, or Robin Hood's hood are all fine examples of artefacts.

Crucifixes. This literary afterlife ("Epilogue") of Ettingrad is composed of two themes: fairy tale whimsy and blood magic. Ettingrad was always just Ettingrad; not New York City. This "city of two heads"— from when the MC was still alive— had dieselpunk weaponry and technology equivalent to WWI-era tech, but the architecture was composed of red stone. That stone was red— as are the ruins overrun by rampant plantlife in the "epilogue" version of the city— due to blood sacrifices made upon stone altars centuries ago. Those sacrifices imbued the stone with supernatural fortitude— among other things. That is why it was chosen as the primary building material of Ettingrad. But those altars were not just used for architecture! No, they were also used to make mystical foci, to channel the power of the dark entities that the blood sacrifices were dedicated to. Those foci— known as "crucifixes"— can be found in both the living Ettingrad and in the Epilogue. They are rare, and incredibly potent. They are necessary for the casting of blood magic. Alice, the main character, comes into the possession of one such crucifix— in the form of a sentient stone snake, segmented as a whip. (That snake is called "Mason"— because it is stonework.) To be used as a spellcasting focus, these stone implements must be engraved with "Passages" of narrative, evoking powerful emotions.

It is taboo to carve new stories into crucifixes; stone naturally erodes, and carving over pre-existing passages hastens that end.

Litterae Terrae. The ground of Ettingrad's Epilogue is composed of countless compressed sheets of paper bearing stories. There's a reason for this. In the living Ettingrad, the most powerful individual in the city was a man named Seymour Snythe, who was an author-turned-publisher. His short stories grew in acclaim, and he used his earned riches to establish Wollumen Printing Press, a publishing company located adjacent to a park that he frequented as a writer, searching for inspiration. Needless to say, the public was starved for escapism, and, along with the recruitment of several rising writers, Wollumen became the most successful business in Ettingrad.

Snythe innovated the field of writing by creating the first instance of "Animated Literature"— a bound product that wriggled into life as a creature of sentience. That creature— a small child named Rook— was forever bound to Snythe— and, upon Snythe's death, Rook was de-animated back into a manuscript, and was buried along with him in the park that inspired so much of Snythe's work. That power— the potent magick of the animated literature— it altered the world— and, during the climax of the Great War, it created the Epilogue, an afterlife of sorts for all creatures, fictional and otherwise. That is why the earth of Epilogue is compressed literature; it was the foundation of the realm.

And now Litterae Terrae is a resource mined by the Folk and used for all kinds of purposes— such as a component in medicinal processes, as kindling used for the creation of Everlasting Fire, and as food (for the least self-respecting Folk, such as Book Mice).

Iron. Iron has long been the bane of the Fair Folk, and thus, the Folk. It only exists in Epilogue in the Frosted Heart, the central ring of frigid ruins and poison gas. Human survivors covet it, and use scavenged iron scraps— repurposing, re-melting, and reforging it into tools, armor, weapons, and talismans against the Folk.

Ether. In the outer circle of Epilogue, the rivers are not frozen— as they are in the Frosted Heart of the inner circle— and have mutated by the proximity of so many Folk. They are sludgy, starry, lavender-colored morasses. Just as iron is toxic to the Folk, the liquid "Ether" of the Wyrdlands' rivers is toxic to humans. It can also be used as a healing tonic for the Folk, and is cherished as such. Whenever ether is siphoned from the rivers, the surface does not drop; it stays constant; it merely becomes more viscous. The more viscous the ether becomes, the less effective it becomes as both toxin to humans, and as healing draught to Folk.

Since Epilogue is surrounded by an impassable outer circle, the rivers do not replenish from external sources. As such, the draining of the ether is a climate crisis of sorts for the inhabitants of the Wyrdlands.

Miasma. The swamp base of the Wyrdlands is constantly bubbling with gas. Some scholars of Epilogue hypothesize that the gas— known as "miasma"— is the same as the toxic gas in the Frosted Heart— but that some chemical processing of the swamp environment purifies and detoxifies it. No one is certain. What is certain, though, is the power of miasma as a propellant. The technology of living Ettingrad is both nebulous and largely irrelevant to this project— but guns did exist there, and— few are certain whether this is true— they may have been purely gas-propelled dart guns, with darts tipped in bio-hazardous poisons. In Epilogue, that is true. Scavenged guns— found either in the Frosted Heart or in the outer Wyrdlands— fire darts, and thus, require a source of gas. While most Folk do not demean themselves to the level of gun-wielders (they think of human technology as farce), they do recognize the miasmous gas of the swamp as a potent propellant for these weapons. As a result, there are cash-strapped Folk who bottle miasma and sell it to humans.

One early part of Alice's journey is to travel to the gnomish settlement of Gnome's Point, to procure a gas mask. Such protection is necessary for any creature to survive the toxic gas of the Frosted Heart— where Alice must go to resolve the conflict of the narrative. These gas masks don't just filter toxins from the air; they also supply purifying gas to the respiratory systems of the wearer. They function on miasma.

The toxic gas of the Frosted Heart is not just toxic to humans; if Folk wish to cross the Frosted barrier into the inner city, they also must wear such a gas mask— and, therefore, rely on miasma, as well.

Ink. Ink in Epilogue is both a technological and a nutritional resource. Scavenged caches of bottled ink can be found all over, typically spawning in the origin spot of potent stories of living Ettingrad. Both Folk and humans can ingest it as food and drink. It is also used as ink is typically used: in the offset printing presses still functioning throughout the realm. Folk cherish stories and writing— seemingly without recognizing that they are products of it— and a beloved vocation for them is writing new stories.

Flora. The Wyrdlands of the outer circle are overrun with rampant plantlife. The floor is most similar to a swamp biome, but the understory and canopy is more similar to a rainforest. Broad-leaved trees with thick, waxy cuticles catch moisture from the air and send it dripping ceaselessly downward. Verdant ferns sway in the wake of pressurized miasma. Reeds poke bravely out of the morass.

These plants are home to many Folk, and likewise prove a fundamental construction resource for those of more settlement-focused proclivities.