Monthly Archives: February 2017

Quick Evil Badguy Fantasy RPG Update

Hi all! I’ll keep this short.

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Yes I know shorts are plural. It’s called me being a tit.

Testing

In the latest testing session, Mr Qaisar Siddiqui, wordsmith and equality activist, said the following:

“I wish it was longer. I had no idea how long I had been playing for. I thought it had been 20 minutes or half an hour, and I was an hour and a half in. When I got to the end it left me wanting more!”

If you want to get involved and have some fun testing what is now a highly polished game, please get in touch. My email address is mungotattonbrown at gmail dot com.

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Screenshot.

Music

Music is advancing at a faster rate than it was before Christmas, and I’ve added some sweet new atmospheric tracks this past couple of weeks.

Art

Yes, I am trialling an artist, so prepare yourself for some fantastic imagery. Potentially.

Palette.

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It’s Going To Be Alright

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“Aaaaaaaaaaaagh!”, Benjamin Watkins thought, opening his email browser. “What the fuck did I write what the fuck did I write what the fuck did I write?”

Emails, in his mind, were worse than the most addictive shows on Netflix, global warming, and the possibility of marriage. Like everything that made his hands sweat and his mind work very very quickly, they held the curse of irreversibility. You cannot unsend an email, just as you cannot unwarm the planet and you cannot, without suffering extreme psychological trauma, unmarry or get unstuck from watching that programme about criminals who have sex with other criminals. What has been done cannot be undone.

Any sane, rational creature would accept the logical conclusion of this and be calm. Mistakes have been made, but apologies can follow, grovelling and punishment if necessary, and eventually all can be made well in the world. In no possible email situation does having a high-energy panic attack serve a useful purpose.

“But what if all can’t be made well in the world? What if I’m fired or I explode?”

He looked up to the heavens.

“If only I had been born in a war zone” he thought, “then my constant twitchy vigilance would be of value.”

In general, Benjamin wrote banal, functional emails that made sense and fulfilled their purpose. Like most of the publicly visible content of his life, Benjamin’s email account was predictable and mediocre. But every now and then he would write a bizarre outpouring of emotion so outrageous and jarring that it hinted at the man’s underlying chaos, and suggested that in reality he was an unmoored boat with no rudder and no anchor, all engines on full, hurtling through choppy waters in an endless frothy circle.

He read the email he had sent several times over.

Hey A,

Absolutely fabtastic seeing the new site. I ADORE IT. Savage. I am literally in love with you. Please send help!

:D:D:D:D,
Ben

The problem was not so much that it was over the top – and this was so far over the top that the top was no longer visible. The problem was that at no point in Benjamin’s correspondence with the developer had there been any deviation from strict polite formality. Greater men than him had been tortured, killed and had their bodies dumped outside the entrances of mobsters’ mansions for less.

“I am insane,” Benjamin Watkins thought. His breathing was all over the place. The screen was blurring as his eyes moistened. He imagined various possible methods of suicide, trying to work out which would be the fastest and least likely to make him shit himself.

“No, no, I’m too pathetic to kill myself” he thought, “I’ll have to sell my car and join a touring band of mariachi players with unusually thick moustaches.” At that moment an email pinged into Benjamin’s inbox.

Hi Ben,

Glad you like it.

Regards,
A

It was as if a great weight was lifted from Benjamin, and he was suddenly free.

“It’s going to be alright,” Benjamin Watkins thought. “It’s going to be alright.”

He responded to the developer.

Great.

“Oh great fanged hellbeast in the sky,” he thought. He had sent “great” to every contact in his address book!

Then he exploded.

Fin.

33 steps to get any girl to fall in love with you

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Oooh yeah sexy list.

  1. Show her how empty your calendar is.
  2. Be modest. Like, super modest. Say you’re shit at everything.
  3. Talk about your difficulties understanding other people.
  4. Avoid humour. Jokes might fall flat.
  5. (Exception: long-winded shaggy dog stories with no punchlines.)
  6. Talk about your money worries.
  7. Slouch.
  8. Dress like everybody else, but with more food stains.
  9. Either a) avoid all eye contact or b) lock eyes and don’t let up.
  10. Remain motionless at all times.
  11. Never blink.
  12. EITHER growl OR bark at her friends. NOT BOTH.

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    Bark at my friends. Woof woof.

  13. Tell her how awkward you feel.
  14. Ask if it’s going well.
  15. Talk about previous dates you didn’t enjoy.
  16. Tell her she’s beautiful, then offer her a drink, then apologise for no reason.
  17. Fact-check all her funny stories.
  18. Emphasise your differences.
  19. Talk about knives.
  20. Tell her you love gamergate.
  21. Pause for at least ten seconds. If she tries to continue the conversation, cry.
  22. Shiver angrily.
  23. Ask her where the treasure is hidden.
  24. Open all the windows.
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This is what an aroused woman looks like.

  1. Speak only in Latin.
  2. Pour her drink on the floor.
  3. Run into a wall.
  4. Tell her you’re having a nervous breakdown.
  5. Hold your breath until you pass out.
  6. Enlist in ISIS.

Hands as Green as Sprouts

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Hands as green as sprouts sprinkled salt into the frothing broth. Fire sweltered below the cast-iron cauldron. Flames danced above dripping candles, as Estragon’s shadows leapt about the stony tower. He hummed a delighted tune with his raspy voice.

Footsteps echoed cold and deep towards him from the stairs below.

“Yak’s blood, in the soup, dum dum dum,” Estragon sang, “and an egg to make it gloop, dum dum dum…”

The footsteps resounded, loud and deep. louder, louder, louder until the door opened. Jasper stood, small, red and rat-like, his arms full of wood. Estragon smiled at him.

“Into the firepit please my boy! Into the fire! Oh what a dire pit Jaspar, where we shall fly!”

“Bad scansion. Not rhyme.” Jaspar responded.

Estragon wrinkled his nose. He looked at Jaspar’s rough purple horns and opened his mouth as if to say something. Then Estragon drank a large dollop of the cauldron-froth instead. Jaspar frowned at him.

“What doing tonight?” Jaspar enquired.

“The same thing we do every night Jaspar, create low-level human upset! What fun! What joy! To be the agents of mild maleficence!”

“But…”

“But what Jaspar? You don’t feel a certain heaviness of heart do you? You don’t wince when you see a young primary-school teacher stub her toe on a table leg? You don’t want to apologise to the bearded bus driver who had a sudden fearful thought about falling off a bridge, and forgot to open the doors at the stop? You don’t-”

“Valentine’s” Jaspar frowned, carefully placing logs under the cauldron. Estragon squinted at him.

“What’s that supposed to mean? Hmmmmmmm?”

Estragon’s face seemed to be leaping and pouncing in the living light. Jaspar’s eyebrow ridges raised. (He had no eyebrows, a consequence of the two demon’s pyromaniac activities.)

“Nothing” Jaspar frowned. “Not mean nothing.”

Jaspar walked out of the door, and his footsteps echoed, loud and deep, then soft and deep, then very quiet, and then they were gone. All the while Estragon sang and mixed and pressed and chopped and sprinkled, the broth evolving with every new ingredient. As he the mixture changed, he scooped it out with various dusty bottles and jars. Eventually, with a near-empty cauldron and a whole rack of filled glass containers, Estragon stopped singing.

“What is wrong with Estragon?” He asked.

He prodded the light blue paste remaining in the cauldron with a spindly finger.

“What is the matter with Jaspar?” he pondered.

He stopped stirring and looked out of one of the holes in the tower at the sky. Dark. Blue. Speckled with white stars. Quiet Gods. Estragon took a ladder from behind one of the bookshelves and positioned it under a mirror high up upon the wall. He gathered up his bottles and began to climb.

“What is wrong with Estragon? Estragon did nothing wrong… Estragon did all things right… Estragon makes human fright… Estragon makes night delight. Estragon with magic hands, does each and all that mischief… demands…”

At the mirror, Estragon looked into his own green face, his yellow eyes, shadowy so high above the fires below. He thought of Jaspar, red and whiskery, horned and clawed, with those little useless bat wings behind. Then Jaspar was in front of him, within the mirror. At least, his back and his little useless bat wings were. Surrounded by the long oak tables and floating grey waiters of the dining room. Estragon whispered, like a saw coated with wool.

“Come on Jaspar.”

“No.”

“Come on Jaspar.”

“No.”

“Come on Jaspar.”

“No.”

“Rats! What is the matter with you Jaspar my boy? You used to be such fun!”

“Valentine’s”

“Oh Jaspar Jaspar JASPAR. You must not be so sen-ti-mental. You’re soft and round like the humans, you know Jaspar. Not a bit of humour in you. Boring and simple. You-”

“No.”

“I CAN’T DEAL WITH THIS JASPAR. Of all the servants in all the worlds in the great expansive universe, why oh why must I be burdened with YOU?”

Estragon paused.

He listened.

Something strange was happening with Jaspar’s breathing.

For a moment, the castle was nothing for Estragon. The world was nothing. There was only darkness. A confusion. And slow and heavy breathing from Jaspar. What is the matter with Jaspar, Estragon thought. What is the matter with Jaspar?

“What is the matter with Jatter?” he whispered.

Jaspar turned. His face was damp with demon snot. He wiped his black eyes. He flinched.

“Ow. Sharp hand.” Jaspar said.

Estragon laughed. It was not a pointed laugh though. It had no blade. It was expansive and warm and welcoming. Jaspar smiled.

“Valentine’s?” Jaspar asked.

“Oh I see,” Estragon replied, half his mouth curling up in a grin, “you want to celebrate Valentine’s?”

“No. Valentine’s upset!”

Estragon grinned once more.

“Very well Jaspar” he said, “Your wish is my command.”

He began to climb down the ladder. Jaspar followed him through the mirror to the base of the cauldron in the tower. Estragon scooped out a great smouldering heap of kindling and ash with his hands. He held it into the air and began making wild and intricate gestures. The tallest stones in the tower began to melt into white space.

“We’re going to prolong some exhausting relationships tonight Jaspar. We’re going to encourage some short-term decisions.”

The walls drifted away.

“Make people bad match.”

“Yes Jaspar. Make people bad match.”

And with that, they were gone.

HUMUNGO Games – Where We’re At

Hi everyone! Mungo here. Just a quick update to let you know the state of play for HUMUNGO Games at the moment.

Marketforce!

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I am more proud of the title screen than I deserve to be.

This satirical business RPG is free to download and available here. Described by a television producer who works with Anthony Horrowitz as “Genuinely hilarious. A great game.” Play it and be delighted.

Jaguar

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It starts as all thrillers should. With politicians swearing at one another in traffic.

“Wonderfully dramatic and I loved the format. Just the right amount of silliness too.” – Laurence Cook, Theatre and Television Director.

Go for it now on any device. The less you know in advance, the better.

Evil Badguy Fantasy RPG

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Your favourite RPG, with added sass.

Retired general meets fishmonster. All the love, revenge, tragedy, terror and humour of a AAA game with none of the production values. Don’t just take my word for it. Zoli Billics, one of the testing managers for The Witcher 3: Blood and Wine, who has played through the game, says “This game is awesome! I can’t wait for the full release!”

Currently in the ironing-out-the-last-bugs stage, EFB is will be released later this year, date TBC. With an original soundtrack by music magician Odinn Hilmarsson. (Seriously give his music a listen it’s fantastic.)

The Black Crown

What’s this hair-raising sensation? Why do I feel nervous and excited and warm at the same time? Is this a mysterious new project?

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Final game may look different to these three question marks.

Key words:

  • Interactive fiction
  • Alternate history
  • World-shaping choices
  • Real consequences
  • Assassination
  • War
  • Sex
  • Colonialism
  • The British Establishment

Watch this space.