A catalogue of games, with notes
I write novels and I make games. The games are small and over-built: a dynasty that rots one heir at a time, a therapist made of code, an office you manage until it manages you, dragons that do not all come home.
Atlanta, Georgia · MMXXVI · published under the Dredwork label
Every generation is an inheritance of bone and sin. You do not play a hero; you play a bloodline, and the bloodline is not well. Marriages, feuds, illnesses, and debts compound across heirs until the house either holds or it doesn't.
When a run ends, a chronicler writes it up: the literary history of a dynasty that was, for a while, yours.
One hand. Four keys. Your weapon fires on its own; you move, you dodge, you switch elements. That is the entire control scheme, and everything hard in the game is built on top of it.
Five pilots, seventy-five skins, ten trials, and a synthwave CRT haze over all of it.
Hire. Fire. File. Mourn. Sign Form 3NQ. An autobattler where the battle is a department and the enemy is the quarter. Six departments, eighty-nine skills, four endings, none of them a promotion.
Lead a flight of named dragons out into the reach and bring them home. Not all of them will come. A warm, slow strategy game about loss, and the first title set in Marblewick.
A small galactic thing, made for the phone and for the twenty minutes you have. The studio's first release on the App Store.
You are not the therapist. You are the programmer of one. Stack its directives, then sit through the sessions as it applies them to people who deserved better, and botches them in ways you did not plan for.
Plant pines on a small plot. Two matching trees side by side fuse into a bigger one, and the bigger ones into giants. Frost, beetles, and wildfire each get a turn. Winter comes at week twelve and counts what's left standing.