This story is treating itself pretty oddly.
On its first draft, it protested because it didn't feel like a game. It had 1,000 words back then, and now it has 10,000.
The story chooses to lean into the abstract in an otherwise grounded atmosphere (if you're standing on your tiptoes).
At one point, it wanted me to sing like cowboys used to sing to their herds. Out loud. Making things up along the way.
It wanted my guitar to sound like a banjo, and now that it gave up on the idea, it wants other objects. I have things that can make sounds and I'm not afraid to use them.
Its art: primitive. I literally met a three-year-old who draws better than myself. The story contains a few drawings to make player orientation easier. (And because, who wouldn't want their game to have visuals?)
Meanwhile, here's another absurd feeling.
When I was a child, people who made my games were 1/3 of a planet away. By the time I was in high school, at least I shared the same continent with some of them. My hair is starting to go gray now.
When I clicked "start game" on this thing, a character greeted me, three dialogue options were there to choose from, music played, and a picture showed up. All at once. None of these were made by somebody else. I stared at the screen for an hour. And now I'm writing a devlog.
