🎮 I made a Twine game. Or: It is illegal to serve Hot Sauce to a Dragon in Granada.

It is illegal to serve Hot Sauce to a Dragon in Granada | mirrored on Philome.la | hosted on my site

This is my first time using Twine, and the first interactive fiction (IF) game I’ve ever made. So I welcome any and all feedback and opinions on Project Dragonsauce! (Because that title is a mouthful.)

Inspiration.

It all began with this writing challenge on Chuck Wendig’s blog, where everyone commented with a title for another commenter to “adopt” for a flash-fiction piece. Someone had posted this exact title, “It is illegal to serve hot sauce to a dragon in Grenada [sic]”, and my imagination instantly latched onto it. I originally wanted to write flash-fiction/short story as per Wendig’s challenge, but after a few abortive attempts, gave up, filed the title away, and didn’t do anything with it for a couple years. But a few months ago, when I was examining Twine and idly contemplating a foray into IF game creation, this title prompt came instantly to mind, and the entire storytelling/game structure resolved itself in that moment of inspiration.

And there: I had a story all ready to create in Twine. So I did. It took roughly 2-3 months of dabbling, in total probably less than a week of real-time work, to make a 5-minute IF game.

Process.

It took an afternoon to storyboard and write the text for Dragonsauce, and get accustomed to the Twine interface, which was very user-friendly. This was the easy part. After that, I spent several months on-and-off learning the basics of Harlowe (the scripting language beneath the Twine interface) and then scripting it to do what I wanted. I solely used the Harlowe manual to learn; somehow it never crossed my mind to look for YouTube tutorials, but reading instructions and then doing them has always been my default way of learning.

Lots of referencing the manual and trial-and-error: circling back and forth between things I knew how to script, and things I wanted to script but hadn’t reached that level of mastery yet. Rather tedious, but I’m glad I persevered through beginner’s frustration. At the end of this game, I think I’ve mastered enough of Twine scripting to know which references to look up, but will need to keep experimenting and iterating to get a real handle on Twine’s full capabilities. Solidly beginner, starting to move into the intermediate levels.

Being a gamer, particularly an avid player of text-based games, helped a lot with Dragonsauce’s design. I’ve played enough of Fallen London, Open Sorcery, Choice of Games games, and MU*s (the progenitor of both parser IF and MMOs) over time, to have internalized the infrastructure of interactive storytelling. The structure of Dragonsauce literally crystallized out of this melting pot. I knew what story I wanted to tell, and immediately knew how to organize it. I didn’t have to consciously “figure it out”.

Gameplay and story presentation.

Having written only novellas before, interactivity is the aspect of IF that I find most intriguing. How does one present stats to a reader and give them a way of tracking progress and change, while maintaining the integrity of a narrative? How to avoiding making this too explicitly game-y?

Dragonsauce was a particularly good story for learning Twine because it had a modular structure, and each module allowed me to experiment with different ways for a reader/player to progress through the story, and how I might present it narratively. There were only two fundamental stats for me (and the player) to manage, which made it easy to keep track of in the scripting, but still interesting as I got a taste of what additional variables can spin out from two stats (answer: a LOT if you don’t keep yourself in check), and what “balancing gameplay” means and involves. I think the three game endings are well balanced and hope they satisfy the player.

I got sucked into playing around with the scripting, to the point where I had to pull back and ask myself how this served the narrative, and how I can effectively present this as a story, and use storytelling to elegantly cover up the bones of gameplay mechanics. (And how much time I wanted to spend just dickering with an unfinished project!) All this experimentation meant that the narrative of Dragonsauce supports a core gameplay style, instead of vice versa. More game-y and less story-esque than I’d hoped, but I was using this story to learn Twine and its capabilities.

I’m pleased with what I’ve made, and like to think I succeeded with keeping the storytelling vibe while also effectively communicating game/stat changes through narrative. But I wonder what players think. (I would appreciate your feedback very much!)

What’s next?

IF and text-based games are the convergence of reading and gaming, two activities I enjoy, and any place of boundary crossing and convergence that stimulates creativity, tension and new ideas attracts me. I thoroughly enjoyed making Dragonsauce, and found balancing this tension between game and story very engaging. This is my first IF game, but I’m confident it won’t be the last.

Now that I’ve gotten a handle on Twine scripting, I would like to focus more on narrative and less on mechanics. So the next project is to develop a story and keep narrative as the main objective, and see how the Twine medium can support it.

I already have an idea kicking in my head, but it’ll have to incubate a bit longer as other writing projects are taking priority. (NaNoWriMo cometh!)  This will surely be a major project for 2019.

📚 Now reading: Earth is But a Star. And a musing about reading anthologies.

Earth is But a Star, edited by Damien Broderick.
A science-fiction anthology of far-future/dying Earth stories and essays, by writers including Jack Vance, Gene Wolfe, C.J. Cherryh, Arthur C. Clarke, Brian Aldiss, and Robert Silverberg. A fascinating, if cerebral, read through contemplations on humanity and Earth’s far-distant future.

This book is out of print. I first saw this in a local library and was so taken by the theme that I determined to buy a copy by hook or by crook. I ended up emailing the publisher, a small university imprint, and asking if they had any copies leftover from the original print run. Remarkably, they did and were willing to sell. So I had the whimsical experience of calling up and buying an OOP book directly from its publisher.

~~~

Unlike novels, the format of anthologies encourage dipping in and out of it as you please, picking and choosing which stories to read, not needing to read anything in order. Earth is But a Star has fiction interspersed with essays, so it’s tempting to just read all the fiction and then check out an essay or two, maybe read them later. (But face it, “read them later” never happens.) But I resolved to read the anthology in order from cover to cover. In doing so, I noticed something.

This habit of dipping in and out of a collection of stories is encouraged (or exacerbated) by publishing in the Internet age. News websites, blogs, online fiction ‘zines; and the practice of saving articles to Instapaper or Pocket… it’s so easy to read a piece of writing online that is isolated and removed from any surrounding context. Even online fiction ‘zines present their issues less in book-form with stories nestled between covers and lined up in a certain order, but as a landing page from which one clicks on links to stories. Apart from being linked from the same page, an online story or article has no spatial or temporal relation to the other stories in the issue. Less sense of a chronology, more sense of a radial branching network. That’s the kind of pattern that arises from a hypertext medium.

Whereas a physical ‘zine or anthology has stories in some sort of sequential order. Sure, a webpage has that too (the links are in some order), but a physical book embodies that orderly restraint more stringently than hypertext. One subconsciously assumes that there is a purpose to that order, and I’m certain there is.

Even so, one can still dip in and out of an anthology. It’s easy to jump ahead to the next story if the current one doesn’t hold your attention. Especially in Earth is But a Star, where I’m vastly more interested in the fiction than in the essays. But I resolved to have some self-control and read from cover to cover, missing nothing.

But I think there’s more to this than self-control: it’s being willing to surrender myself to the journey within the book. I’m relinquishing my choice to dictate which order I read the stories, and allow the book (and the editor/s) to lead me from page to page.

In this Internet age where reading material is rife and often disembodied from context, and the consumer is the one dictating how and in what order to consume media, it is a discipline to relinquish this choice and submit oneself to be led in a specific way. But I think there’s something profound in this submission. I’m accepting that the editor has purpose and meaning to this narrative trajectory they want me to go on. That there is a meaning and motive behind this journey, and that is worth exploring and pondering, even if I don’t agree with the trajectory. That every stop made, be it a short story or an essay, is a worthy stop to make right here, right now, at this point in the anthology. By surrendering myself to a journey directed by someone else, and resolving not to miss any stops, I get to experience a narrative different from mine.

Yes, it’s something (relatively) trivial: reading a fiction anthology cover to cover. But if I can’t submit my attention and choice to an anthology editor, am I willing to submit to some more important story? If I can’t take time to read a fiction collection in order without missing anything, how can I expect to take time to read and thoroughly investigate some bigger, more serious news issue, from all angles?

Sustaining attention through a narrative trajectory is a habit to cultivate in the trivial occasions as in the more serious occasions. Best I start with a science-fiction anthology.

Weird dream.

Last night I dreamt about Serbian guerilla fighters in a muddy field beneath a looming cliffside containing a network of caves. The sky was cloudy and overcast, and it was all damp and probably drizzling. I was in the field, dug into the grass and mud, and then I was inside the cliffs with the soldiers, who were all dressed in blue uniforms, tramping through the tunnels, talking about Skopje and strategizing about some important mission there.

M. and I. were in the caves with me. They’ve been on my mind recently, and M. comes from a European country but is decidedly not Serbian. Apart from that tenuous link, I have absolutely no connections to the Balkans.

Sometimes, a weird dream is just a weird dream.

🎵 Now listening. Turrican Soundtrack Anthology, vol. 2 by Chris Huelsbeck, and the rest of the Turrican Anthology soundtracks.

How have I not encountered this music/game/composer before? These soundtracks are magnificent. The first track of Turrican II (“The Final Fight”) alone is worth the price of the whole album. Instant buy!

💡 Things I looked up today. Obsidian. Conchoidal fracture… apparently there are names to the many ways that minerals can fracture. Materials science (is always fascinating): malleability, toughness, ductility, brittleness, plasticity, shock. Why crazing happens. Water hammers, hydraulic rams.  Heron’s fountain, invented in the first century AD.  The physics behind water rockets.

Now, how to incorporate these ideas into a fantasy magic system…

To mend the rifts in friendship and social media.

A few months ago, I witnessed a rift in friendship. They were once good friends who were close, but then an incident arose. One hurt the other one. In response, the other one hurt the one back. And so, they fell out.

I was not there to witness the falling out, but later I heard the story from the parties involved. Separately, on different occasions, each party told me about the incident and their motive and their perception of the other person’s motive, from their point of view. Neither one knew that the other one had spoken to me, and neither knew that I had heard both sides of the story, from their own mouths.

I had the privilege of hearing all the rawness revealed in the safety of confidentiality. If I hadn’t known better, I could well have been hearing completely different incidents. But that was the same conflict. The facts were the same, yet the viewpoints and interpretation of the deeds done and hurts given and received were wholly different between the two people.

About their conflict, I kept to their sides of the rift. What could I say? Taking sides with one against the other one, or pressing matters to a head, was not my role. To do so would’ve caused grievous harm. So I listened, and helped them individually, and prayed a great deal for both, but did not attempt to cross the rift.

The rift remains to this day. Both friends looked at the rift of their friendship, and decided to leave it be and move on. Life went on, and both are fine. I am still friends with each person, even if their own friendship isn’t the same anymore.

And yet… I see the rift, and wonder if it could be healed.

+++

A few days ago, I witnessed a rift in the social-media fabric on Micro.blog. An incident arose in a M.B conversation thread. One ended up hurting the other one, and the other one responded and made a decision. And so, a rift.

I looked at the conversation which sparked the conflict. These two online folk are not people I’d call “friends” by any stretch of the imagination, at most friendly strangers that I’ve interacted briefly with. But the conversation is there to see. The facts are in front of me, but I perceive that the two people’s viewpoints are wholly different, and the hurt that one inflicted was perceived wholly differently by one receiving it.

The rift is now there, and it has left a gap in the fabric of M.B. Onlookers have gazed upon it and spoken and pondered. I’m doing that too. What can I say? Taking sides or pressing matters is not my role here. To do so would cause grievous harm. Besides, I’m just an onlooker watching and praying and trying to make sense of what happened.

But with one party out of the picture, there’s nothing we onlookers can really do about the rift except leave it be and move on. Life will be fine, and the two parties involved may be fine, we hope.

And yet… I see the rift and wonder if it could be healed.

+++

From my point of view, the parties involved in these two rifts were not maliciously and purposefully out to cause pain or harm to the one on the other side. (The issue would be very different if there was evil intent.) But there was a degree of mutual incomprehension, and an imbalance when evaluating the weightiness of words, and a whole raft of differing and unspoken expectations and assumptions surrounding the conflict.

Could these rifts have been avoided? Maybe. But right now I’m not interested in that discussion, I’m more interested in the matter of the current rift. Here it is. Here is hurt and offense. Now, what is to be done about it?

It is easy to leave a rift and move on. Especially so on social media, when people are shrouded behind usernames, screens, and fragments of thoughts expressed in meagre words. Life will be fine for the people in the conflict, we hope.

But there are outward rifts and inward rifts. Onlookers can see the rift between people. Who can see the concurrent rift opened within a person’s heart? And while life and the outward rift will be fine (we hope), it is the inward rift that is much, much harder to see and to heal.

This is why I wonder.

+++

What does it take to heal a rift in friendship and social media?

Is it worth the effort to heal a rift?

What happens to a person’s heart if a rift isn’t healed?

What happens to a person’s heart if the rift is healed?

As for me, the onlooker, what is the wise path to walk? And what am I to learn from this, for friendship and for social media?

+++

I have my own opinions about these two conflicts played out. But I have great difficulty taking a side with/against anyone, because both conflicts (from what I can see) originated from incomprehension and not malice. There is no “wrong” way or “right” way here. People are complicated beings, and the heart of a human being is deep and complex and full of good and evil, richness and poverty, tenderness and callousness, all to differing degrees. Who can comprehend a human heart, except the Holy Spirit? Because people are complex and have different viewpoints, it’s very easy to remain uncomprehending of a need or a viewpoint that is different from myself. The same facts can be viewed and interpreted differently, as I witnessed with my two friends.

As with friendships so with social media. Each person brings with them a whole lifetime of paradigms, patterns, relationships, and a subconscious scale for measuring the weightiness of words. The closer and more intimate a friendship is, the more open one is to the risk of hurt and incomprehension. Likewise, a more intimate and meaningful a social-media setting opens one up to the same risk.

I suppose that is the simultaneous glory and agony of intimacy.

While there may be neither “wrong” or “right”, both parties were responsible for creating the rift. And while an onlooker may bring the parties back to look at the rift, there is only so much onlookers can do. Only the ones who created the rift have the power to mend it, or keep it open and gaping.

+++

So what does reconciliation and mending look like?

On my part, all I know is this. One gave the hurt. One received the hurt. One must atone. One must forgive.

Jesus our Lord said in the Gospel of Matthew,

So if you are offering your gift on the altar, and there you remember that your brother or sister has something against you, leave your gift there in front of the altar. First go and be reconciled with your brother or sister, and then come and offer your gift.
— Gospel of Matthew, ch. 5, verse 23.

Then Peter approached him and asked, “Lord, how many times shall I forgive my brother or sister who sins against me? As many as seven times?”
“I tell you, not as many as seven,” Jesus replied, “but seventy times seven.”
— Gospel of Matthew, ch. 18, verse 21.

If Jesus my Lord said that he would prefer an offering left unfinished in favour of reconciling with a brother or sister, I ought to remember that on the other side of words and a computer screen is also a brother or a sister, wrapped in flesh and blood. Perhaps what I already do in realspace to deal with rifts in my life, I ought to do in cyberspace too.

I have been on both sides of giving hurt and receiving hurt. Atoning and forgiving are both very hard to do.
But is a rift worth mending?
What rift lies in my heart? Is my heart not worth mending?
And is their heart worth mending too?

+++

If social media is a place where people are found and where we expect to have human interactions, then we ought to treat people in cyberspace as we do in realspace and enact actions befitting to humanity.  Moreso, as the space becomes more intimate and the risk of vulnerability increases.

I don’t know how best to enact atonement and forgiveness on a social-media space. I suppose it’s just like handling people: people are different and complex, every situation is different and complex, and calls for different responses. And every other person who’s not me will conduct themselves differently on social-media by their own principles. It’s the pain and glory of diverse humanity.

I just know what I ought to do, based on my beliefs and convictions and paradigms.

+++

This was tough to write and I’m still not sure if there was anything worthy in it.

But there was sadness and regret amongst some of the onlookers around the rift, and I thought maybe I can, as a fellow onlooker, say something into the sadness. Those two rifts in friendship and social media certainly gave me pause: to consider what I needed to do if I was part of a rift (whether giving or receiving hurt), and consider what I can do to help mend rifts around me, in a tough world and a tougher online world.

“What is my responsibility as a creator to the thing I create?”

Whether that’s a child, or a book, or an album, or a painting. I think if I create something, it’s my responsibility to love it and give it its best chance in the world. And if I don’t do that, not only am I betraying it, but I’m betraying my gift. And […] if you begin to hate the thing you’ve created, it can indeed become monstrous.

—A.S. Peterson, on his play Frankenstein (interview)

At the wedding.

It was the latest in a string of incredibly cold days this week: frigid, overcast, drizzling continuously. But it didn’t stop the wedding from being, in a word, splendid.

Both are not native to this land. She speaks five languages, and spoke all five that evening, welcoming family and friends from all over the world come here to celebrate with her. He speaks one language which is not his mother tongue, yet the majority represented there were family and friends from all corners of the city and all parts of his life, also come to celebrate with him.

She was a vision of beauty — but when is she not? She is, and will be, always beautiful and elegant and refined and a friend like no other. I’d only ever seen him in tracksuit, shorts, or the most casual of clothes, but as his brother said during the speeches, he looked sharp and handsome and wore the suit wonderfully on his wedding day. Splendour, embodied.

Many splendid sights were beheld, but the most endearing sight was seeing L., white-haired and slightly stoop-shouldered, carrying off an enormous bouquet of roses at the end of the evening.

(Each table at the reception had a huge vase of white-and-blush roses, each bloom larger than my two fists pressed together. There would’ve been hundreds of roses in that room. The guests were taking them away afterward. Who would not want to take home a memento of that day’s beauty?)

And as he was bearing away this giant bouquet for his wife and daughter, this man who’s not of any blood or ethnic relation but who has become something like a father to me in this city, said to me, “All things work for the good of those who love him, our Lord Christ. Don’t forget that.” A current caught, a thread pulled, a pot stirred, a word in season.

What a wonderful day.