Yeah, so about Twine

Just for the hell of it, since it seems like what the cool and hip people are doing, I downloaded Twine.  And I have created a Twine “port” of City at the Top of the World.  No, you can’t play it yet, because I don’t have anywhere to put it right now and free wordpress doesn’t let you upload html files.  You can play it here, but because of the upload type they use, you don’t get the full Twine experience of white text/black background/title frame on the left.

It took me a little under an hour, and I kinda half-assed some stuff (I didn’t fix hyphenations, for instance), and I’ve gotta say: I don’t think this qualifies as “Game Development”.

I feel like I did more coding when I manually built City in MS Word.  I sure don’t feel like I “developed” anything.  I mean, I didn’t even HTML.  So yeah, I can totally see why people who do actual coding type stuff look down on Twine and don’t consider people who make stuff in it real developers.

That said, aside from the fact that it doesn’t export in a format that can be published on dead tree pulp, it’s a pretty nice and fun little program decent for making a choose your own adventure story.

I can also see why there is a schism over Twine in Interactive Fiction communities.  I guess it depends on how you define interactive; if you define interactive as interacting with the text itself, sure, CYOA is interactive fiction.  But by that logic, so is reading a regular book, assuming the invisible cue to turn the page when you’ve finished the page you’re on.  If you define interactive as interacting with the environment and the fictional world in the piece, then most Twine games are pretty iffy.  Heck, the “game” aspect is kind of iffy, too, since it’s more of a click to the end type thing in a lot of cases.  I’m sure that there are ways that you could make something that’s far more “game”-like in Twine than a typical nodular fiction.  But why not let it be what it is?  A tool for writing branching fiction.  Branching Fiction isn’t a game in itself, but it certainly has its own merits, so there’s no reason to bother fighting to get it recognized as such.

Whatever.  I’m a double dev.  Cuz I developed my game in MS Word and then I coded a port in Twine.  Now I just gotta get Greenlit on Steam!

Or you could just buy the paperback from Lulu.

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This offer is valid until December 21st; you will receive your copy on December 22nd.


Just throwing some new stuff out there

Spoiler on at least 1 bad ending for the new book.  All content subject to change.

“Hurry up, Erill!  The sun’s almost down; they’ll be burning Goash soon!”

Erill ignored Caius, the young son of village brewer, and remained reclining on the pile of straw watching the purple-grey clouds slowly drifting about the horizon, tinged majestically by the setting sun.  When that fat golden ball disappeared, the torches would be dropped and the Goash, a sacred effigy of an ox-headed harvest-god, would go up in flames.  All of the people of Altier would dance as the giant bull made from the woven straw of the year’s first wheat blazed away, celebrating another season’s end and successful harvest.

This would be Erill’s last Goash festival in Altier.  He’d determined to leave the village of his birth forever.  This year had seen his mother taken by illness and his father slain by thieves.  Erill had resolved to stay and finish the harvests with the other farm folk, but there was little left to keep the young man in town of his birth.  Kara, Caius’ older sister, had been noncommittal towards Erill in the past, and her recent attention felt more like pity for the man who’d lost both parents than genuine affection for him.

Now seemed like the best time to leave.  The last harvest was in, his parents’ affairs had been set in order, and a caravan hauling a bounty of unworked Ungoza crystal along the Long Road had stopped in the village to take part in the celebration.  Erill’s belongings were packed and ready to go.

Altier, a small agrarian community in the demesne of the Barony of Nortune, had been Erill’s home his entire life.  Now, severed from ties to family and obligation to community, Erill had the whole of the Empire in which to pursue his fortunes.  He’d already spoken with the caravan master about the possibility of joining up with them when they continued onward to the port of Syflanis.

Erill had other options, though.  Banditry along the Gatlian portion of the Long Road had been on the rise in recent years (indeed, his father’s death was testament to it), and the nobility had been trying to levy men in an effort to do something about it.  He could offer his services to one of the barons or even join the Imperial Legion in Pelliora.  The options seemed without limit.

“I’ll do you proud somewhere, Dad,” Erill swore aloud, taking to his feet and brushing the straw and strawdust from his clothes.

The young man wondered if he should at least say goodbye to Kara and her brother.  It would be the polite thing to do, at least.  Maybe even watch the lighting of the Goash.  Who knew if he’d ever see it again?  It was an impressive spectacle.  He could enjoy the night and leave with caravan in the morning.  On the other hand, he could leave tonight with no real regrets.  He was ready.

Erill took a deep breath.  Kara had been extra nice to him these last few months.  Even if her feelings for him were not what he would’ve like them to be, it would be nice, he thought, to see her one last time before he left.  And Caius deserved a goodbye, too.  Though he could be bothersome, the lad seemed to look up to Erill like a brother.  And did he really want to miss out on watching the Goash burn?

Torches were already being lit by a few of the villagers who’d been delegated to overseeing the annual festivities.  While sometimes the Goash would be erected and burned in the spacious square, with a sizeable caravan in town it was thought safer and wiser to place the 15 foot effigy on the outskirts of the community after the last harvest came in.  Erill had been among those who moved the idol from the barn that had sheltered it since mid-summer to the fallow field and could not help but feel pride when his eyes fell on the great golden ox.

“You’re here!” Caius shouted.  “This is going to be great!  This is the biggest Goash I’ve ever seen!”

True enough, this was one of the larger effigies the villagers had made, at least within Erill’s lifetime and certainly Caius’.  The year’s first wheat harvest had been a bumper crop, so the Goash had been made correspondingly grander in hopes that the successive crops would have yields as bountiful as the first.  And despite the trouble with bandits and thieves, the subsequent harvests had been plentiful.

“Yes, he is,” Erill patted Caius on the head, “and he’ll be watching over Altier all through the winter, too.”

The boy craned his neck and stood on tip-toes to get a better view of the straw idol then turned to Erill.  “You’re leaving soon, aren’t you?”

Erill sighed.  “Yeah, I suppose I am.”  Young Caius looked at Erill with sad half-understanding, a confused look of sympathy and disappointment.  Erill wished that he could put into words his reasons, explain how he’d felt these last months in his parents’ house by himself, haunted by the memories of their passing and his own failings as a son.  Instead, he could only say “I’m going to miss you, Caius.  You take care of yourself while I’m gone, alright?”

The boy nodded.

“Do you know where your sister is?”

“I think she’s still back at home getting ready.  She said something about a surprise.  What do you think it could be?”

“I couldn’t tell you,” Erill laughed as he ruffled the boy’s hair.  “Now don’t look so sad.”

“I’ll try,” Caius patted down the cowlick Erill had stirred.  “Kara might be here soon.  Or she might take forever!  You know how sisters are.”

“I’ll see if I can go find her.”

“Okay, just hurry back before they light Goash.  It’s going to be amazing!”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Erill left the gathering crowd behind him and half-jogged, half-ran through the gloaming toward the small house where Kara and Caius lived with their parents.  On his way, Erill hurried past the few caravan guards who’d drawn the short straws and were forced to take the first night watch and remain with the carts while others joined in the opening revelries.  It was a shame that such precautions had to be taken even in a normally peaceful village such as Altier, but failing health of the Baron of Nortune and political intrigues in Syflanis were being exploited by the robbers and outlaws who hid out in the forested midlands of Gatlia.  Such trouble in the province had cost Erill’s father his life, so Erill would dedicate the rest of his to doing something about it.  And that’s what he would tell Kara.

Erill arrived at Kara and Caius’ home, a piled-stone cottage on the edge of one of the many freshly reaped fields.  The windows were faintly aglow with pumpkin-orange light.  Erill knocked on the thick-planked door.

“Just a second!” a lyrical voice answered his rapping from within the small house.  Erill shifted nervously on the uneven flagstones sunk into the ground about the house’s entrance and gazing down for the moments just before the door swung open wide.  Erill looked up and saw Kara’s silhouetted form, her hair carefully coiffed and many-ribboned dress hanging in bustles about her waist, standing against the gentle glow of a table lamp and the hearth fire.  “Erill!”

Erill saw her face light with a smile even in the post-dusk shadows.  He was suddenly at a loss for words.  Kara’s dress was new, made from velvety blue fabric and cut in the style worn by the fine ladies of Syflanis.  She looked stunning in it.  “You look…  Your new dress is lovely.”

“I wanted to surprise you,” she swished her skirt proudly.

Erill was indeed surprised.

“I bought it from the traders for the festival tonight.  What?”

“I wanted to tell you…” Erill stammered.

“Yes?  Couldn’t even wait for me a few more moments?”  Kara’s blushing laughter tied Erill’s guts in knots.

He took a deep breath.  “I wanted to let you know, I’m leaving tomorrow…  Probably with the traders; they’ve already…”

“You stupid…” Kara’s comely face became contorted with a mix of emotions, not all of which the young man could identify.  The young woman punched Erill in the shoulder with considerable force.  “And you didn’t even think to tell me before tonight?”


“And if you weren’t going to tell me till tonight, you could’ve at least let me enjoy the festival first!” Tears were streaming down her face, glistening with light from the Goash which had just gone up in flames.  “Who do you think I was wearing this dress for?  Well, come on, at least let’s go watch and maybe have a dance before you go off on your big stupid adventure.”

Kara angrily grabbed Erill’s hand and started dragging him toward where the revelry was occurring about the base of the towering inferno, not giving him even the slightest backward glance.

Not ten of Kara’s angry paces from her abode did Erill notice that the Goash was not the only pillar of flame visible against the night sky.  And the screams and shouts coming from the edge of the village were not those of celebration but of fear and panic.

“What’s happening?” Kara stopped, causing Erill to awkwardly bump into her.

“Bandits!  They must be raiding the village!”

“What are we going to do?”

“Stay close!” Erill barked, yanking Kara behind the corner of a nearby barn.  “It sounds like they’re attacking near the road, by the Goash.”

“Caius!  He’s probably in trouble!”

“The wagons are in the square,” Erill said, peering out from the cover of the wooden building.  The armed men about the wagons were shouting, pointing and scrambling about. “They probably mean to draw the guards off; they could be here any moment… I have an idea.” Erill took another glance toward the commotion. “I’m going to go first, open the gate, then you follow.  Can you do that?”

Kara nodded.


Half-crouching, Erill scuttled over to the barn door, lifted the latch and swung it open just enough to enter, hoping that since he’d yet to see any of the nighttime raiders, they would’ve yet to see him.  He motioned for Kara to follow, and the young woman quickly scrambled to join him.

“Now what?”

“There are pitchforks, hoes, and spades in here,” Erill pointed out a rack of implements hanging on the far wall of the barn.  “Might be able to make some use of them.”

Erill went to the rack and grabbed a pitchfork.  Its wrought-iron tines could pierce a man as easily as a bale of hay.  He’d seen it before another time a couple of thieves had been caught slaughtering a calf by a neighbor.  It hadn’t been a pretty sight.

“You’re seriously going to try to go out there and fight them?”

“Will you be safe here?”

“How should I know if I’ll be safe here when raiders are out killing everyone?” Kara cried.

“Well, I have to do something! We should stay here and wait,” Erill admitted.  If the raiders had bows, he wouldn’t stand a chance against them.  Neither did any of the other villagers, for that matter.  Erill swore under his breath.

“But what about Caius?” Kara pleaded.  “Mom?  And Dad?  They’re out there!”

“They may already be dead, Kara,” Erill bitterly retorted, frustrated by the feeling of helplessness that gripped him.  It was the same feeling he had felt when he had heard his own father had been mortally wounded defending his village.  “But I’ll make sure that nothing happens to you.”

Kara hid herself in a corner behind a stack of loosely baled hay while Erill placed as many objects as he could lay his hands on in pile behind the barn door.  It would not keep the door, which swung outward, from being opened, but would at least prove difficult to clamber over or thru and might give Erill the opportunity he needed for a well-placed thrust of a pitchfork.  When he felt the door was sufficiently barricaded, Erill stood between Kara’s hiding spot and the door, his pitchfork held at the ready.  The sounds of the chaos that had once been distant were steadily growing closer.  The shouts of the men-at-arms and the clashing of steel were audible through the dry and cracked wooden boards of the old barn.  The sounds of hooves bearing down, arrows flying, and cries of anguish filled the night and rung in Erill’s ears.  This was no mere raid; Altier was being massacred.

Over the cacophony of fighting, Erill could hear Kara pleading to the gods to protect them.  There was a crackling thump on the thatched roof of the barn, following a harsh male voice urging a steed forth.  The dry thatching quickly burst into dazzling flames.

“They’re torching the village!  We have to get out of here!”  Erill tossed aside the pitchfork and began moving aside enough of the junk he had placed by the threshold that they might climb over.  Kara rushed to his side, but the embers from the roof were falling all about them, and runners of flame had begun to engulf the walls.  Smoke filled the air, and neither Kara nor Erill could stop coughing.  The barn was turning into a death trap.

Reaching deep within himself, Erill knocked the door open and pulled both Kara and himself out of the flaming structure.  They fell flat on the ground and managed to belly crawl away from the certain fiery death they had just escaped.

All of Altier was alight.  Horsemen, all wearing masks, galloped to and fro, some empty-handed, others with their torches still held aloft.  No building was spared.  By the road on the north edge of town, the Goash mockingly blazed away, towering over the smaller fires that consumed the homes of the slaughtered villagers.

Erill and Kara scrambled to their feet.  Their hope was that the raiders would be so pre-occupied with the destruction they wrought that they would not notice the pair racing across the fields, southward away from the village.  Alas, such hopes were in vain.

The illumination from the several fires reached far, and the movement of two caught the attention of one of the riders.  The rider spurred his mount on, triumphantly holding aloft his torch, and ran the pair down.

The last things Erill heard were Kara’s screams and the beating of the hooves that were swiftly upon him.

The End


This represents about 5 nodes out of the dozen or so I’ve got mapped already.  I’m half a dozen to another dozen nodes away from finishing the first true ending/path (not a “you screwed up and died”, but a “your choice led you to this final outcome”).  Whatever this ends up being, it promises to be bulky.  Not all, but a few nodes will have more than two choices, which will certainly up the page count.

Relevant Encyclopedia Entry Links

Sorry to Disillusion You Who are Over From Intfiction

But I wasn’t planning on doing serious or a series of reviews of IFComp entries. I was only remarking on one that I played and found particularly interesting.*

One exciting thing I did learn, however, is that the Interactive Fiction community is just as wonky and fragmented as the rest of gamerdom. I learned many cool things, in fact.

1) There is a schism in the community about what IF is; there are Parser Purist and there are those who think that any and all text-based stuff counts as IF.

2) Much like some people gripe and complain about games being developed on this engine or that engine, people in the IF community seem to be grumbly about games developed in things besides Inform & TAD(both parser based dev platforms), particularly something called Twine, which sounds like it eats christian babies if some parser-Grognards are to be believed.

3) The debate between parser based games and CYOA/Hyperlinked games is pretty heated and involves some hurt feeling. Some people are going so far as to suggesting 1-starring any entries that aren’t parse based in their competition, while other people are saying that’s incredibly misogynistic and transphobic.

Wait, what? Am I missing something here? Oh, right! Niches, niche programming, niche development, learning curves, silenced voices, etc. etc. etc.

Unless they’re really well put together (and even then, it can be iffy), parser games are incredibly difficult to play. There’s not only an incredibly steep learning curve to play them, there’s also a steep learning curve to develop ones that aren’t crappy unplayable messes.

Choose Your Own Adventure style html based programming has apparently become more popular in the Interactive Fiction community if for no other reason than developing this sort of game is easier and has less learning curve. Hell, I developed my “Game” in MS Word, because after one look at Inform I was all “No time for this right now”. Anyway, accessibility has led to two things: a change in ratio of choice-based interactive fiction vs. parser-based interactive fiction, and an increase in ‘marginalized developers’ who want their voices heard.

Pretend I said “marginalized developers” in regular quotes. Then pretend I said it again with finger quotes. Who are marginalized developers? Developers who haven’t learned to develop except in user friendly software. Developers who are LGBT and/or minority.

So, there’s the complaint that X is not Y. Indeed X is not Y, but the fact that you are complaining is because you hate gay people and other minorities. Wait, what?

Apparently, Zoe Quinn, a figure who interestingly most of the IF community doesn’t seem to have heard of, and #gamergate cast their shadows here, too, because since Zoe’s game was a choice based IF title and Zoe is being persecuted, then your dislike of a certain game type is dislike of Zoe and all marginalized individuals? I don’t know! But maybe!

It interests me when I hear about marginalized voices in gaming, and often times these voices become marginalized because they don’t go into development. Now that they are in development using a simple to use dev tool, people who did not like that game style in the first place now do not like gay people/women either because I guess gay people/women are the ones using more?

Are LGBT underrepresented in parser-based text gaming? Are they underrepresented to a greater degree than they are overrepresented in other media? Everyone crapped themselves when it came out that most people’s impression of the percentage of LGBT people in America was wildly overestimated. So, is it possible that parser-based gaming is so incredibly niche a development field, and the LGBT dev community so small that a random sampling might just happen to include next to no LGBT devs? I don’t know, nor do I know if it matters.

Based on a few of the games I played in IFComp, I can see why some people might complain. A few of the games felt less like games (some didn’t even really have choices that I could perceive) than they did Dorothy Allison prose-poetry where you clicked a hyperlink to go to the next paragraph. Is it interactive fiction? Well, it’s fiction that you can interact with, but I can see how finding multiple examples of that when someone was really hoping for a Zork-fest one might find it aggravating.

In the meantime, I’m now facing Stereotype Threat. Why? Because Oh, Crap, I’m a minority, and I’m writing my choice-based Interactive fiction in a word-processor! Is it because I’m Latino? Is it because I have gender dysphoria? Is it because I smoked too much dope in college listened to industrial music? Or is it because that was the platform that I wanted to create in? I don’t blame somebody who wants to play Zork for not wanting to read what I wrote, and I think it has more to do with them wishing it was Zork rather than because I’m whatever niche ethno-gender identity.

This is probably bad to say, since I’m so “new” to the Interactive Fiction community, but after one quick peek under the hood, I’m sticking with my D&D homies.

But if any of you who came over on the forum sandwich feel like staying, by all means stay, and I hope you enjoy what you find here.

*: I won’t tell you which ones I played, but seriously, Creatures Such as We was the only one I liked; what does that say about me, since it was choice-based and not parser, but also not html-links?


Too Early to be Talking About a Sequel?

Especially since no one has bought the first one yet?* Maybe, but I’ll talk about it anyway. I’m trying something a bit different this time. One of the points some folks made about City was that the nodes were a bit long, especially compared with typical 80s CYOAs, and there weren’t as many choices as they would’ve like to have seen.

Well, I’m hoping to remedy this in the followup. This second book will have a good bit more player/reader agency to it, I hope. I’m avoiding overly long nodes, while trying not to sacrifice setting too much. I’m drawing heavily on the Encyclopedia for this. In many ways, this next book is going to be a gamebook style rewrite of the original Cirsova campaign.

The difficult part will be trying to follow all the branching paths to their necessary ends. I want to avoid some of the “doubling back” from City at the Top of the World. I could justify it there in part because of the relatively confined space it took place within. This next book, however, will take place all across Gatlia. I want to look at the trade along the Long Road, the banditry, the political system and unrest, pirates, and, of course, the mysterious Polarans.

The downside (for me) is that this will mean a significantly longer book and longer writing period.

But I have a few cool plans for if I’m able to make myself finish it. For one thing, I want to commission Dyson do redraw the map of Gatlia and make it not terrible so that it can be included in the book. I don’t know what I’ll do about a cover; I got really lucky with the first one, but is much better for sci-fi than it is for fantasy insofar as covers without ladies on them. Not that there’s anything wrong with covers with ladies on them, but this particular story is not starring a lady. Nor is it starring a ripped shirtless dude.

No, this book stars a young man from the village of Altier in the Barony of Nortune; orphaned by circumstance, he has decided that with the final harvest in, his parents affairs settled and the festival of Goash looming, he will leave his home and try to find some way to devote his life to stamping out the banditry on the rise in Gatlia which cost his father his life. Epic stuff? I hope it’ll turn out that way! Proud as I am of City at the Top of the World, there was plenty of naval gazing.

After that, I’ve got two more books in the Cirsova setting planned out (more or less). Maybe I’ll have enough money to get Susan Van Camp or Rebecca Guay to make me a cover by then?

*: It’s only been a little over a week and 80 eBook versions have been given away, however, so that’s a start!

Free Copy Countdown

Tomorrow is the last day to download your Amazon Kindle copy of City at the Top of the World for free.  Over 50 copies have been given away so far.  It’s peaked at #48 in free Sci-if/Fantasy short reads.

If you’ve downloaded it and liked it, review it! Gimme a star(or five. Preferably 5)!

Or, if you really liked it, you could buy a nice dead-tree-pulp version from LuluAlexcirsova-72dpi-1500x2000. The promo code should still be good for 15% off your entire lulu order, so grab some other swag while you’re there: FWD15

City at the Top of the World – Preview

Aeryn’s stomach turned and knotted as her room shook.  Nearly a week had passed since she had been taken by those strange pale men and placed upon the sky sail, but she still found herself unadjusted to the traumatic and unnatural sensations of flight.  No one who was taken by the slavers of the north was ever seen again…

It’s Done! 1st Draft of City at the Top of the World is Done!

The story is written, the nodes are written, the endings are written.  The main part that’s left is to number and link nodes.

Maybe I got lazy?  I don’t know.  While there are a lot of paths and a lot of endings, several choices funnel into one particular node, but part of that was wanting to avoid the quantum nature of a lot of CYOA type books.  You get captured by the slavers, you end up going to auction.  And I wasn’t going to write totally different slave auctions for every variation on getting captured.  If I were writing classic CYOA style nodes with 50-150 words per node, maybe I would’ve done it differently, but some of these nodes are as long as 700 words.

42 nodes and 12 endings.

Yay.  This is one of the first real writing projects I ever ‘finished’ since I decided not to write a 10th book in the fantasy cycle I’d written when I was in highschool.

The First Draft of City at the Top of the World is Almost Finished!

So, if I work at breakneck pace, writing at between 2500 and 3000 words a day, it takes me just over a week to write a CYOA of modest length. But this might just be special case of mania seizing me and barfing a story into word as quickly as possible. Who knows?

Anyway, I’m almost done with the story; I only have maybe a half dozen or so nodes left to write, and already have about 30 nodes written, including 9 endings (there will be at least two more).

Though this is kind of a dark story, I promise that it will not be so bad as Daredevil Park, which had a dozen endings, all of them bad.*

I might be hitting a few people up soon to be beta readers. I have a couple people in mind right now, but if I need more, I might open it up to those who ask nicely in a week or so.  Even with the story written, I’ll have to format it, change the node names to numbers and try to link them, and that will take some time.

Anyway, in a few hours, we’ll find out if the heroes of Alfheim can stop the Necromancers of Stull and if the latecomers (players who weren’t there two weeks ago and did NOT go charging off into the dungeon straight away) can stop the zombies from tearing down the old saw mill.

*:The best ending was the park got closed forever; the worst ending you stayed back at your hotel room to play video games in the bathtub and your console falls in and kills you.