I finished the project I was working on last month, the 3D environment in Twine, called VValkabout. You have to find “it” and get out before the Hunter finds you…
I am working on a secret project for a dear friend, which is coming along swimmingly, and has to do with a cow tooth, a painted saw blade, and egg box with an eye on it.
Till next month God be with you all!
– Patrick
Micheal Marrion loved his grandfather. He would sit watching his grandfather’s hair and beard resting on his shoulders and breast with the same awe as one would watch the water of a waterfall move. When he was small he was allowed to make nests in his grandfather’s hair, and for many years he believed he had been hatched from an egg in such a nest. Continue reading
A scene that came to me once, unconnected from any larger story. Two men are walking beside a road and one, Mr. Stroudfreck, is speaking.
“Yes. Now it is sweeting up. The newest blooms are so peppery; in the pink, at least.”
The sun had already dried the sidewalk, but had only begun to work on Mr. Lanceling’s clothes, and so far only succeeded in making them feel stiff and abrasive. He watched Mr. Stroudfreck, who never seemed to show signs of discomfort in any circumstances.
Without preamble, a man ahead of them on the sidewalk turned back, presented an 1847 Colt Walker pistol, and fired on them.
The report of the gun, instead of being gone as soon as heard, lengthened as if a knife scraped it over toast. And as if the sound had become shape, a dark, serpentine form darted from the mouth of the gun instead of bullet and smoke.
It reached fifteen feet long with the speed a loosed arrow would fly the distance, and in the same movement as its sudden growth it rose on scaled hind legs, and above Mr. Stroudfreck and Mr. Lanceling its bulbous, reptilian eyes blazed like the eyelids of the morning. The sound of the gun, now horribly distorted, became a saurian scream that pierced the mind like a sword. Mr. Lanceling collapsed into a sitting posture by the side of the road. A cascade of fire cast from the creature’s throat bore down on the gentlemen, and the brilliance seemed to dim the sky in that direction as much as the jetting fumes. Mr. Stroudfreck raised and opened the umbrella, dark against the poisonous glare, and from this canopy the flames slid like cobwebs from the nose of a flying plane. Mr. Lanceling jerked his feet into Stroudfreck’s shadow, which jutted into the sunlight at a strange angle, flickering between the rags of flame that fell on the concrete around it.
The beast arched its loathsome body, gathering in its inhale the summer air whistling through its shark teeth, hot air that was cold in the demon’s gastly heat. Mr. Stroudfreck closed the umbrella, and, stepping forward, drove it upwards through the lower jaw and in through the brain. The tongue lashed the folds of the homely instrument like a stricken asp, blood spilled from the raging eyes, the internals of the head and mouth ignited and split the face in two, wreathing it in fire, and the forepart of the worm fell like a burning club to the sidewalk.
As if vanishing through the concrete, Mr. Lanceling never saw it strike the ground. The disappearance of that long body, whose scales seemed to glisten with shadows, brightened the sunlight around them. Mr. Lanceling put his hands to the ground to steady his legs as he rose, and wondered if part of the heat he felt in the pavement originated in the encounter he had witnessed. He stared at the place he had last seen the dark creature, feeling that it could start from the ground at their feet as easily as it had from the barrel of a pistol. Knowing a thing such as that to spring from the sunlit air, he thought he could never feel comfortable anymore. Mr. Stroudfreck was turning to him.
“How do you find yourself Mr. Lanceling?” he asked, as though they had met each other there.
“I feel as I need to take an umbrella everywhere I go.” Mr. Lanceling replied. Then he realized that he had not thought of the man who had fired the shot since the more fearsome antagonist had entered the scene. He looked down and across the street, but did not expect to see the man, who must have made good his escape already, though the interaction with the worm had not lasted long.
“Do you know who it was that fired on us?”
“A pawn, a hired man no doubt.”
“Someone should take his gun away.”
“Oh, it was nothing to do with his gun.”
– Patrick Lauser
Trivia: the 1847 Colt Walker pistol was the most powerful black powder repeating handgun to be made.
“While these strange events were passing through my mind, I suddenly, as one awakes to the consciousness that the sea has been moaning by him for hours, or that the storm has been howling about his window all night, became aware of the sound of running water near me; and, looking out of bed, I saw that a large green marble basin, in which I was wont to wash, and which stood on a low pedestal of the same material in a corner of my room, was overflowing like a spring; and that a stream of clear water was running over the carpet, all the length of the room, finding its outlet I knew not where. And, stranger still, where this carpet, which I had myself designed to imitate a field of grass and daisies, bordered the course of the little stream, the grass-blades and daisies seemed to wave in a tiny breeze that followed the water’s flow; while under the rivulet they bent and swayed with every motion of the changeful current, as if they were about to dissolve with it, and, forsaking their fixed form, become fluent as the waters.
My dressing-table was an old-fashioned piece of furniture of black oak, with drawers all down the front. These were elaborately carved in foliage, of which ivy formed the chief part. The nearer end of this table remained just as it had been, but on the further end a singular change had commenced. I happened to fix my eye on a little cluster of ivy leaves. The first of these was evidently the work of the carver; the next looked curious; the third was unmistakable ivy; and just beyond it a tendril of clematis had twined itself about the gilt handle of one of the drawers. Hearing next a slight motion above me, I looked up, and saw that the branches and leaves designed upon the curtains of my bed were slightly in motion. Not knowing what change might follow next, I thought it high time to get up; and, springing from the bed, my bare feet alighted upon a cool green sward; and although I dressed in all haste, I found myself completing my toilet under the boughs of a great tree, whose top waved in the golden stream of the sunrise with many interchanging lights, and with shadows of leaf and branch gliding over leaf and branch, as the cool morning wind swung it to and fro, like a sinking sea-wave.”– From Phantastes, Chapter Two, by George MacDonald
Basically this is a proof of concept for making 3D environments in Twine. I was seeing what I could do and how I could do it, and was quite pleased with the possibilities.
There are three controls: left, forward, and right (in some places some directions are not available). You can explore all the various places you can go, but if you explore too long the Hunter will catch you.
When I say “too long” this does not mean that if you go to get a cup of tea you will come back to find the game over. The “time” you spend increases by one when you move, and if you wait fifteen seconds before you move again it will add two more.
There is a way to win if you like. You have to “find” something before you can leave (by going back the way you came in).
If you do not have time for the video walkthrough, here is what you need to do:
Hidden feature: the amount of time you have spent is next to the “view”, and you can highlight it (I demonstrate this towards the end of the walkthrough).
There you are! Concept proved!
