i honestly interpreted that as "this game itself is a poem" so it's a lucky word to forget (;
emily koonce
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I knew I had seen this mentioned before & it just dawned on me where.
In season 9, episode 18 of Seinfeld "The Frogger," (1998) George is pushing a Frogger arcade cab across the street to stop anyone from beating his high score when a truck rolls by. George jumps out of the way and the truck smashes Frogger. As he's laying in a pile of rubble, he mutters something super quietly to himself.
The weirdest part of this is that I remember looking for this scene to show someone and when I got to that part, the Youtube captioning didn't pick up on the line. I love a good George one-liner, so I kept going back to try to decipher what he was saying. Then on a whim I switched the language to Spanish and this line appeared, translated to something like "It's like the Junji Ito pinball machine all over again." I thought it was strange that the caption wasn't showing up in English but I didn't think too much of it since I figured a Junji Ito-themed pinball was plausible and Youtube's auto-generated closed captioning is always fickle.
It's so funny to see it come up in this context on itch. I wonder which one of the writers played it lol

sometimes i think about the "end of the world" & how we likely won't have access to computers and all of the games i've made--an art that uses technology--will be defunct, deprecated, reduced to memories.
maybe it's an impulsive instinctual desire to play with fire, to know this & make games anyway. but maybe it's brave to work in a medium that is bound to burn out like the sun.
as someone who travels a lot & finds themselves making friends in corners at parties or at nearby cafe tables or in adjacent airplane seats, i've never experience a piece of art that so beautifully captures the ephemerality & intimacy of falling into the right conversation at the exact right time.
i often have discussions about how reading a book or watching a movie will hit so much different depending on what my life looked like at the time: where was i? who was i talking to most? where was i working? who did i love? how was my health? etc. but i don't think i've ever applied that lens to why certain one-off conversations strike me so deeply.
this game was a graceful exploration of how our experience of time is not linear, but contextual.
crockpot is a game about bored teenagers growing up in the midwest that explores the intimacy of doing nothing with someone else ✨
play it at https://koonce.itch.io/crockpot















