Legacy of Wisdom

For those who might be interested, I've just finished my latest game prototype, Legacy of Wisdom, and entered it into the Experimental Gameplay Project, with the theme for this month being a "Zero-Button" game.

The link of the game can be found here: http://dark-manifesto.blogspot.com/2010/08/legacy-of-wisdom.html

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Game Synopsis

“I do not think much of a man who is not wiser today than he was yesterday.” - Abraham Lincoln -

Designed based on the Experimental Gameplay Project theme of a "Zero Button Game" (August 2010) , Legacy of Wisdom's main gameplay uses nothing but mouse movement.

Centering around the metaphorical themes of "Legacy" and "Man's journey in attaining Wisdom", Legacy of Wisdom adopts an oriental aesthetic style based on Oriental Calligraphy / Paintings to help create a "Zen" aesthetic to complement the game's metaphorical themes.

Legacy of Wisdom also features an additional gameplay twist - an experimental take on the concept of "Player Death" in games, toying with the idea that death in games can be a reward as much as a penalty; where each time a player dies, the player is given a reward for his / her next playthrough.

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More importantly though, on a personal note, this is the first month that I've managed to squeeze out a little bit more time to actual get involved in small, indie project like this; something that I had set out to do the moment I decided to stop pursuing a commercial path in Game Design, and went into Academia, where I was hoping to be able to do a bit more experimental stuff without having to worry about the commercial sensabilities, and just design for the concept; not the commerce.

Of course, things never turn out like they should, and it was one crazily hectic semester in school, and I'm just glad that with the end of the semester, a bit more normalcy has returned to life, and I am able to have one foot back in the waters of my First Love; or at least find enough pockets of time in the after-hours to commit to a week-long project for the Experimental Gameplay Project, something that I've been keeping a close eye on for a few months now.

With crossed fingers and a silent prayer, I can only hope and pray that I can sustain this in the upcoming months as well, as if there is one thing I have discovered after not doing Game Design for a while, even if it is small indie projects like this; I am reminded of the invigorating feeling of going from concept to completion of an idea, seeing the pieces fall into place slowly and watching the gradual realisation of the idea into something a lot more material and tangible; almost like watching the slow but sure metamorphosis of a sluggish caterpillar into a fluttering butterfly.

For sure, this is one cookie jar I would gladly keep at least one hand in...

Pieces of Japan: Day 7 - White Christmas

25th December 2009
Niseko, Hokkaido, Japan

Muscles flexed at the thighs in an attempt to curb the wobbling of everything below the knees. Looking down, I saw the skis underfoot gyrating according to the little bumps along the somewhat steep slope.

"V, V, V," my mind shouted to my body, attempting to instil the advice the coach had just given me minutes ago. "Pressure on the knees, pressure on the knees," rang through my head, with a distinctively English accent.

An awkward contortion had me bringing my knees into the desired position, but wonder still ran through my head as I felt the pressure on my toes more than anywhere else.

Looking at my tremendous effort in forcing a V-shaped snow-plough with my legs, I smiled to myself, believing that I had finally gotten it right.

Wind rushing across my cheeks, as flakes of snow fiercely rose from the ground up till my lips, giving me a little taste of the powdery texture of the snow that lay underfoot.

I looked up, and there before me, in all her glorious beauty was Mt. Yotei - Ezo-Fuji, as the locals call it, due to some similarities to Japan's most famous peak. The golden sunlight shining off her snow-capped slopes, in turn dispersing and reflecting the rays of sunlight, giving the mountain an almost otherworldly glow.

She was beautiful.

As I stood with my mouth open; amazed at the visual splendour that laid before me and fuelled by the adrenaline of the pure velocity that my body was subjected to going downhill. An exhilarating orgy for the senses.

A splendour short-lived though, as the magic of the moment was almost too quickly disrupted by the familiar wobbling in the knees all over again.

"V, V, V!" I told myself again, as I willed my muscles into position, trying to draw in my now-parallel skis back into the supposed posture. 

Thuds and bumps and thuds again, made it extraordinarily difficult to restore my position. Panic rose and anxiety raced through my mind as I started to feel myself going faster and faster down the slope, as my skis refused to un-parallel themselves.

A sudden high from the spike in adrenaline, as my mind tried to get a grasp over the body that I was losing control of by the second. A desperate attempt had my bending and swinging my knees inward, throwing my body into a side-ward position momentarily as I managed to put the brakes on my ever-increasing momentum mid-slope.

But before I could actually let out an actual sigh of relief, Gravity was already beckoning me once again with her inevitable pull; but this time, continuing my clockwise torque along with a general downward force, and below I knew it, I was in the V-shaped posture alright, except that I was facing backwards and saw the worrying sight of a mountain full of little skiers and snowboarders slaloming down the slopes from a distance above.

A sway left, and a swing right, as I attempted to keep my balance AND reverse my orientation. A sudden jerk at the heel, as I felt the ski dig into the snow for a split-second.

Breaking point.

That was the last thing I processed in my conscious memory, and I suspect for the next few seconds, I was a flailing mess spinning through the air in reckless abandon, bouncing and rolling down the slope. Severe bumps on my shoulder, a loud thud from my butt - the world spun much faster than it ought to.

When it all stopped and I opened my eyes, nothing lay before me but a face-full of white, powdery snow, as I emerged from the pile spitting and swiping my face. I was mere inches away from a steel pole for the ski-lifts, as the passengers looked down at me, legs swinging freely in mockery.

I looked at my feet, and realised that I had one ski lying a few centimetres away from my feet, and another halfway up the slope, allowing me to get a semblance of my trajectory taken down into despair, shame and ruin.

A helpful skier picked my long-lost ski up and brought it down-slope to me, asking: "Are you alright?"

At that very moment, I was dumbfounded and caught in the void between the "yes" and the "no"; but more certainly, I found an answer to something else, I found out what it tastes like to really suck, and the answer is that it tastes a little bit salty and a whole lot of powdery.

Looking the Part, That's all

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The Red Ski House: White Christmas

The irony of hardly a Silent Night on Christmas Night, as 3 different languages flew across the table at any one time - in fact, it was hardly a moment of silence at all. 

The Meaning of Christmas was hardly lost between the space of race and language, as people originally from France, Australia, UK, Native Japanese, and of course, us island-dwellers sat around the same table, just sharing idle conversation wherever language permitted, or glorious food wherever it didn't. It didn't really seem to matter if we all had different meanings to Christmas, more importantly, we all spoke the universal languages of joy, laughter and merry-making of the celebrations.

More impressive though, was the Spirit of Christmas reflected through our hosts, Andrew and Kaori, for not only opening their home to us - to provide a more than ideal place to just relax the muscles and joints after a long day in the cold and bitter snow; but also extending their heart to us, all of us present, by hosting a generous Christmas Dinner that fittingly-symbolised the occassion.

One of the few Christmases away from the traditional familial celebrations, but hardly any of the Spirit was lost over all those miles of ocean from home.

A White Christmas may be magical in it's own right, but it sure helps having a (red) roof over your head be fully enjoy the warmth of the festival.  

Room with a Mountain of a View

The Hosts

Birthday by the Beach : Sands of Time

10 -11 July 2010
Bintan Lagoon Resort, Indonesia

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Sky...

The sand slipped through my spread fingers, as the incoming tide crashed wave upon wave onto my body. Legs stretched out and submerged till my shoulders, the irregularity of the waves caused my seated body to bob about in the water; moving to the make-shift rhythm that the sea hummed to the shore.

I wanted more, and yet less. I wanted to be surrounded by nothing-ness. Wading about on all fours in the water; further and further from the shore, as the crawling transformed into a gradual breaststroke - a graceful rhythm that would guide me to nowhere.

Sufficiently distant from everything else, I turned over and floated on my back, eyes closed and ears only being able to hear the sound of my own breathing - the translation of sound in a different medium distorts it in peculiar ways.

Like a plank adrift at sea, my shipwrecked body was taking it all in - simply enjoying the nothing-ness, the void; a brief pocket of space and time in which I could think about nothing, nothing but keeping afloat in the open sea.

A tradition perhaps, to have too and desire to completely free my mind of all of its shackles come this time of the year.

Distorted sounds of laughter rang through the waves. That was Us just minutes ago...

...Racing along the choppy waves on the back of a jetski. Finger firmly on the throttle, legs flexed and arms fixed in a death-lock on the handle-bar. Shrills of excitement and uncontrollable laughter set the soundtrack to the thuds and thwomps, as drops of salted water brushed off our faces in raging splatters and playful splashes.

Looking up, we saw Infinity. We saw the horizon at which the sky meets the sea; with nothing in the way between us and the end of the world.

Looking up, we saw the Light. Streaks of setting sunlight penetrating through the clouds - a sense of reverence and a sense of holiness encapsulating the sight and the scene...

Subjecting your body to Nature's rhythm has a soothing effect on the soul. Perhaps it is true that Cancerians have a stronger affinity towards water, as it felt almost second-nature to just lie motionless in the sea.

I opened up eyes and stared at the sky, watching the clouds sweep gently by. No images, no relations, no imagination, no depictions. Up and down and up and down - suddenly the sky didn't seem so far away...

    

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Bintan Lagoon Resort : Within and Without

The Room

Overview

Full Frontal

Lunch

Poolside

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Stars...

The sound of the waves in the distance; hearing without seeing, as the darkness engulfed the sea, and only left her gentle melody to us as an ambient piece.

Activity continued to bustle through the transparent glass walls of the 3 Degrees Signature Restaurant, as the sight of other diners reminded me of how full I was from the grilled meat platter.

The clanking of glasses added a harmony to the ambient melody, as I raised my glass, bringing the straw to my lips, and inhaling a good portion of tropical goodness.

Through the mist of greens and blues, was a taste that was a mix of fruity sweet and tropical sour, with a tinge of bitterness from the alcohol that was in-between. 

Habitually, I stretched my arms across the rattan sofa and let out a huge post-alcoholic-relaxant sigh. Looking up into the darkness above, I squinted hard looking for the stars, the stars that were so visible moments ago...

There we stood, in the junction of shadows of the open field, ensuring darkness from almost all angles; a hidden haven from the light. Looking up, we saw the stars - countless speckles in the sky and in their perfect form and alignment. Constellations eluded us as they were all so cluttered, and yet so clear.

The sparkle in her eyes - more than a reflection of the lights from above. Wonderment and amazement radiated from her soul, as she exclaimed at the beauty of Nature's diamonds...

Another clank as the glass hit the table, as I leaned forward, peering into the darkness ahead; finding nothing but the Sound of the Sea...

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Sands...

Nothing but the sound of my very own breathing, body floating according to the fancy of the waves. Sunlight warmed my face and seared through the darkness of my eyelids. A subtly burning sensation; she was much harsher than the day before.

I took an upright position, and looked around. Nothing-ness surrounded me, and nothing-ness paved the path between the shore and I.

A sense of freedom invoked through the sheer openness, similar to the one experienced minutes ago...

The murkiness cleared as the sunlight streamed in, slowly revealing parts of a picture that lay beneath.

A school of fish quickly darted past before I had time react, much less point it out to her.

Her legs still kicking awkwardly, but at least she was moving. I had learned to grow accustomed to breathing through the pipe, already forgetting the saltiness I tasted upon the first bite.

Pulsating corals of different shapes, forms and sizes lay beneath us, as fish darted over, under and between them. Marine life as never experienced before; a whole new world beneath us - in every sense of the word -riddled with her delightful secrets and her picturesque scenes.

Rising up to take a break, I took a look around, looking into the distance. Through the expanse at which my eyes could run towards the horizon, I realised the freedom that we were swimming in...

A familiar silhouette strolled along the shoreline was my cue to start my swim back to reality.

As the water got shallower and my limps made contact with the ground beneath, I turned around, faced the horizon, legs outstretched and submerged my body till my shoulders. Closing my eyes, I let my body be subjected to the rhythm of the waves once again, swaying and moving according to her tantrums.

I reached into the ground with my right hand, clenching a fist-full of sand firmly within my fingers. Waves came and waves went, as I held the sand within my hands.

Eventually, I finally loosened my grip, as the sand quickly rushed out and slipped through my fingers with the passing of the waves.

Another year is lost, another year is gained.... Happy Birthday.

Pieces of Japan: Day 6 - Silent Night

24th December 2010
Otaru, Hokkaido, Japan


Otaru Canal by Day: Snowfall

The pencil slid gracefully across the canvas, producing glimpses of the future with each successive stroke. His hand wrinkled by the twisting of time, yet they remained unwavering. So too was his gaze, despite the seagull at his side attempting to draw him away from his masterpiece.  

Snow fell gently onto my unkempt hair as I gazed out at the rustic sight before me. The Otaru Canal, much known to be the backdrop for romance stretched and winded towards the mountains in the distance.

Touristic laughter and exclamations were heard all-round, but never serving to remove the serenity that the combination of snow and scenery amounted to. I looked on from above, as I saw her going about her usual business some distance away by the canal.

Taking it all in, I made my way towards her, her actions becoming clearer as I drew closer to her.

Her arm outstretched to catch the snow that was falling gently from the blue-grey skies. She was enjoying the snowfall, above all else... hardly a foreshadow of what was to come...

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Otaru Music Box Museum (Otaru Orgel): Snowblind

An instrumental version of the The Beatles' "Penny Lane" boomed through the speakers as the tourist crowd dispersed into individual buses.

Sounds of shutters laid the musical accompaniment as the locals hurriedly closed up shop. It was only 5.30.p.m., but in winter in a small town like Otaru, this was probably the equivalent to an 8 or 10 p.m. in larger cities.

Yet, the nag in the gut told me that it was probably more than the time that was the reason for their hurried-ness, but more probably due to the snow.

The snow that playfully teased us earlier in the day had matured into something a lot more threatening. Raining down hard on us with the wind in a harmoniously destructive tandem, bits and blocks of snow slid off our faces, as we gritted our teeth to press on towards our destination. What was previously a wonder had become a woe.

Holding my coat close to my chest, preventing the snow from seeping through the gaps between the layers of clothing, I beckoned her towards the lights in a distance barely visible through the ever-moving blanket of snow.

Snowblind

With less than half-an-hour to spare, stepping into the Otaru Music Box Museum couldn't have come sooner. Sheltered from the cold and the wet, the joyous choir of music boxes heard through the door beckoned us. As I reached out for the door handle, I was opening a door to a different world - a world of warmth, magic and music...

Peace was short-lived however, as the Music Box Museum only served as half an hour's respite before it shut its doors and we were back in the cold.

As we pushed through snowstorm that was growing ever-harsher by the minute, we heard claps and bangs coming from a distance. Like animals with nothing to follow but their instincts, we crossed roads and half-knee-length high snow towards the direction in which the sound was coming from.

Finding a really unexpected location that served as a make-shift carpark for heavy vehicles, we were temporarily sheltered from the harsh winds and heavy snow by the wall structures around, as the razzle and dazzle played out in the sky. It was the Christmas Eve Fireworks show, and the best part was... it was only 6.30.p.m.

Fireworks at 6:30

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Mt. Tengu: Nature's Trickery

Nature was a fickle one when it came to Mt. Tengu. Subduing herself enough to tempt us into pursuing one of Hokkaido's top 3 night views, she left us more than hanging when she decided to throw her tantrum again after the long bus ride and the cable car ride to the top.

In the end, all we had left to entertain us was a room full of masks - Tengu masks naturally, giving good reason to the name of the mountain, but still...

Not exactly 1 of the 3 top Night Views in Hokkaido

Mt. Tengu lives up to its Namesake, in a way

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Otaru Canal By Night: Silent Night

Emptiness

Silence filled the air save for the sound of our footsteps in the snow. The road before us laid deserted, as the disappointing trek up Mt. Tengu had us on the last bus, and taking a slow walk back to our hotel through the snow-covered roads fresh from Nature's earlier showing.

A flick of the wrist read 10.p.m. on the watch, as we bashed straight down the given path towards the direction of Otaru Canal, hoping to take the night sight of the canal as our final memory of Otaru.

Arriving at the canal, the expected hustling and bustling crowd was nowhere to be seen. In fact, the whole area was empty save for us and a paid photographer who was probably hoping to get a few final customers before calling it a night for Christmas Eve.

Silence rang through the air as I stood at the bridge marvelling at the splendour of the canal before me. Traditional oil-lit street lamps led the eyes down the winding canal, the bricked warehouses along the canal adding much to the rustic flavour of the scene, as the waters of the canal bore a perfect reflection of all that was around and above it.

All was like it was before. I stood there, gazing out into the distance, as she hurried down the steps, running off into the distance to go about her own business. A speck of white landed on my coat, as I looked up to see little gentle drops of the same kind dancing towards me. It had begun snowing again, just like it had before.

Silence rang through the air; and perhaps that was the perfect accompaniment to the sight that stood serenely before me, in all its tranquility and splendour. A literal "Silent Night", the perfect tune perhaps, to mark the passing of a White Christmas Eve.

- Her Words: ddoodles -

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