A downloadable writing-game

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The short story: a solo writing-game about a cold post-apocalypse.

The real story: Eleven months ago I made a bad poem that started like this:


Before the storm we laid around the campfire.

It was dark outside, purely because there was

simply nowhere to find light.


We were afraid. There was a place to delve into,

a secret to uncover. Facts have few holes,

nowhere to wriggle into easily. Our brains

are simply not the right shape to fit.


So huddled and afraid, before the storm, we sang.


I salvaged it for the POEM HAM NOW jam, and made something pretty elegant.

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Click download now to get access to the following files:

AFTER THE STORM.pdf 278 kB

Comments

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So if you played this game, I really want to see your corpse poem(s). You should write them here or on Twitter (@bigstuffedcat)

(+1)


Jeer, jesters, jeer justly.

Janissaries, jaegers, jarls - judge.

Jackdaws jabber, 

Jackals jaw,

Jesters… jest.

This is an evocative poem. I get that the repeated "j" wasn't completely your choice, but it adds a lovely rhythm and punchiness that matches the jabbering and jeering nicely.

(+1)
BUILDINGS: earth-breaking, split, stop, dying
CAMPFIRE: fever, dive, double, seeds
WILD ANIMALS: care, teeth, killing
CORPSES: split, dying
the place where people have lived,
where they dreamed, the great Split changed this
now they're eternaly dying
both song of hearth and earth breaking
a few people around the forgotten fire
did they fall for Dad
did they dive into Fate
following the seeds, they feed it
what a strange kitty, quiet and quick
hidden in tea store, stays wild and tensile
dear Steven, my deadly one, surely spectrum now
do you stay, do somewhat someone survive
surprise me, i said survive, you said.
so i'm standing in the middle of strangers.
dear you dying dove diving down and down.

I guess I didn't understand at first, then I tried to follow the rules!