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Albie

@gamesbyalbie / gamesbyalbie.tumblr.com

Hello! I'm Albie. | they/them | writer of Zorlok, Mousetrap, Creating Goncharov, and System Processing | icon credit @fooltofancy
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Games by Albie

Hello there! ☺️ I'm Albie (they/xe). I'm a passionate writer and self-taught coder. (carrd)

These are some of my personal projects:

Zorlok - a bizarre, dark comedy about monsters, found family, personal identity, and the nature of good & evil

About Zorlok | Play Zorlok

Mousetrap - a surreal survival horror story where theme park employees are forced to compete in a deadly game

About Mousetrap | Play Mousetrap

System Processing - a short solarpunk story about Ov, a digital caretaker rapidly approaching retirement

About System Processing | Play System Processing

And a few others mentioned here.

Coding/writing resources:

A Quick Guide to Character Pages - a short, quick guide to creating simple character pages using Twine Sugarcube (with a short silly story) - Download Here
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Misfits and Magic season 2 episode 4 spoilers, but I have to say this with my whole chest:

Evan facetiming Jammer's teammate is the funniest shit I've seen in recent memory, like...

"[Evan summarizes the wildest, darkest series of events into a couple ridiculous, deeply unsettling sentences.] That's what's going on with me, Aaron. So, now you know what a fjord is. ... Enjoy Punta Cana."

I literally convulsed with laughter I was cackling so hard. My back cracked like a terracotta corpse.

If you're a Dropout fan, an actual play fan, or a terf-hating fan of wizard schools and you aren't watching this season/show, PLEASE. Do yourself a favor and go watch Misfits and Magic. It's marvelous.

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On episode 3 of Misfits and Magic season 2 and—while I have many thoughts—my gods... Sam is just the best. Don't get me wrong, I love them all so deeply and am so excited to see how their stories develop and intertwine, but I really didn't expect Sam to sprint in and snatch my heart up so quickly, completely, and—at the same time—gently.

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Interactive Fiction Community Raffle for Palestine!

Over 50 authors and artists from the Interactive Fiction community here on tumblr have come together to offer an array of prizes for a focused donation drive! We are aiming to raise as much money as possible for five families who are currently trying to evacuate Gaza. These fundraisers have been vetted by @/el-shab-hussein and @/nabulsi (thank you for your hard work!)

RULES:

  1. You MUST donate a minimum of €5/$5 USD to one of these five fundraisers to qualify for a ticket. These are the currencies the GFMs are in (3 in euro, 2 in USD). We chose this amount because it is the minimum GFM allows and we are hoping to encourage as many donations as possible. Please be mindful that GFM does not show the conversion rate if you're donating outside your currency.
  2. Donating once to all five GFMs will get you five tickets. And for each extra 5 you donate, you will get an extra ticket. (ie donating 10 to one GFM gets you 2 tickets, 15 gets you 3, etc.)
  3. There are two tiers we will be pulling prizes from: one tier for writing, and one tier for art. When you submit your proof of donation, you will be asked to specify which tier you want your ticket to go towards. If you are submitting for more than one ticket, you will specify the tiers for each ticket-- you can spread them out between both tiers or put them all towards one.
  4. You will be required to share a receipt/proof of donation via uploading a picture through google forms. We will not be handling any money. You are donating directly to the GFMs, and then showing us proof that you have done so. Please include the GFM and the amount you've donated in the screenshot you upload. We are only taking donations starting from June 7th onward.
  5. We plan to raffle off all possible prizes using a random generator. Once the drive concludes on the 21st, we'll take a few days to gather up & organize the tickets and draw names, and then we will be in touch with winners both on tumblr and via email.

Please understand that these prizes are pulled blind and assigned at random. You cannot pick or choose which writer/IF or artist you get. It is completely randomized. You get what you get-- even if you aren't familiar with the writer or their game. Artists and authors also have the right to refuse your request at their discretion. Please be respectful and remember that our main goal and focus here is fundraising for these families.

We encourage you to share these families and their fundraisers here and elsewhere. We're hoping by focusing our efforts we can really make a big impact for all of them.

Ticket submission form:

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Here are our contributors for the Interactive Fiction Raffle for Palestine!

Over 50 artists and authors from the IF community here on tumblr have joined together to run a donation drive this month! The raffle will be running from June 7th - June 21st. A separate post will be made with more information, including the rules and ticket submission form, once we're ready to launch.

Our goal is to raise as much money as possible for five specific fundraisers; we hope with us focusing our efforts we'll be able to make a tangible impact for these families. Tickets will be the equivalent of the minimum GoFundMe donation ($5USD/€5), and you will be donating directly to the families and then providing us proof of donation in exchange for your ticket(s).

We plan to raffle off all prizes. Below the cut is the list of contributors for both prize tiers, along with the prize they'll be offering. (Beware, this is a long post.)

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vaynglories

every time i type five or more exclamation marks i think of this quote. it's my equivalent to that damn bbc sherlock line about scratch marks around the phone charging port. i can never escape the spectre of terry pratchett judging my punctuation habits

I may not be sane, but at least I am loud.

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mossbawn

also absolutely hate when people say "this is set a million years from now and there's still racism and homophobia? #problematic" and then you read it and it's a scathing and concise yet meticulous examination of our current views on race and gender and sexuality. you don't understand what the point of science fiction is. escapism is not the pinnacle of the written form that all genre fiction should aspire to. you're annoying me

the fantastical setting allows for the writer to make our current day issues larger than life and therefore more easily examined and deconstructed. in genre fiction fantasy is often used as a microscope and through it we can try to better understand what's gone so wrong with us in the modern day, we can try to point to the cancer in the cells. it's natural to want to escape sometimes (i love a good romcom for example) but you do need to confront a mirror every once in a while. the solution to your pain is not to bury your head in squeecore. sorry i said squeecore

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rynezion

Here's a long ass bit I copied out from the Introduction to Ursula K. Le Guin's The Left Hand of Darkness (bolded emphasis all mine):

Science fiction is often described, and even defined, as extrapolative. The science fiction writer is supposed to take a trend or phenomenon of the here-and-now, purify and intensify it for dramatic effect, and extend it into the future. "If this goes on, this is what will happen." A prediction is made. [...]
This book is not extrapolative. If you like you can read it, and a lot of other science fiction, as a thought-experiment. Let's say (says Mary Shelley) that a young doctor creates a human being in his laboratory; let's say (says Philip K. Dick) that the Allies lost the second world war; let's say this or that is such and so, and see what happens… [...]
The purpose of a thought-experiment […] is not to predict the future—indeed Schrodinger's most famous thought-experiment goes to show that the ‘future,’ on the quantum level, cannot be predicted—but to describe reality, the present world.
Science fiction is not predictive; it is descriptive. [...]
The weather bureau will tell you what next Tuesday will be like, and the Rand Corporation will tell you what the twenty-first century will be like. I don't recommend that you turn to the writers of fiction for such information. It's none of their business. All they're trying to do is tell you what they're like, and what you're like—what's going on—what the weather is now, today, this moment, the rain, the sunlight, look! Open your eyes; listen, listen. That is what the novelists say. But they don't tell you what you will see and hear. All they can tell you is what they have seen and heard, in their time in this world, a third of it spent in sleep and dreaming, another third of it spent in telling lies.

Anyway, read Ursula K. Le Guin.

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lovingrot

hey white leftists

seeing a lot of white people and i just have to say

I need all white people to read this like 10 times, just because you see yourself as progressive don’t mean you get to talk over people of color and what we side eye

Unlearning racism is like flossing.

Since racism is baked into our culture, we ingest it every day; sometimes it gets stuck in our teeth, and others can see it. When people of color say, "Hey, the thing you just did or said was racist," they're saying, "You got some racism in your teeth, dude."

Do we say, "No no, I flossed last year, there's no racism in my teeth?" "My spouse is a dentist so I don't have anything in my teeth?" No, we say, "oh damn, thank you," shut up and go find some string.

Flossing has to be done again and again. So does unlearning racism.

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PART 9: GENESIS

THREE AND A HALF YEARS AGO

"Min-joon? What's—"

"Shit! Thank fuck you're safe!"

"Yeah, I'm safe? Why did you call me? What are you—"

"Are you writing?"

"No, not righ—"

"Good! Don't write anything! Don't do anything! Please. Okay? Promise me. I'll be there in two minutes."

"Min— Why?" I stopped. My brain wasn't able to compute what he was saying. "What's going on?"

"It's writers, Ody! The WHO just released an emergency update about the strange deaths and that's the only connection they can find. They're all writers!"

"W—what?"

"I don't know. I don't understand it myself, but if that's true, we're in danger." I heard him honk and curse someone out.

It took me several seconds to process his words. "Okay." I mumbled. "But if it's writers... what does this mean?"

"I... I don't know." He paused. All I could hear was his car—driving faster than it was supposed to, faster than it was safe to. "We'll figure it out." He replied, his voice grave and solemn. "Together. No matter what, we'll be there for each other. I'm gonna make sure nothing happens to you."

End of Part 9 of ? • LAST PART • NEXT PART (coming soon)

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zorlok-if

Anyone want to play some @mousetrap-if ? I've got a couple routes I want some feedback on

Hmm—ya know what—I'm gonna go get my laptop, and put it in a channel of the Zorlok discord server, that way people can just play it if they want

Okay, there's a channel now in the discord server with the link now! It's called #albie-not-so-secret-secrets

Feel free to play! In particular, I'm looking for feedback/on the endings (spoiler alert? maybe? does that even count for what this is?) where you don't go into the park, you turn the cast members down and leave (and yes, endings). Naturally, please also let me know if you find any bugs, spelling/grammatical mistakes, audio errors, etc.

Anyways, have fun—if you want (if you dare) ☺️

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gamesbyalbie

The Cursed Journey

The Cursed Journey is a work of short fiction I'm in the process of writing and releasing. Entries are treated as drafts (and thus are subject to change). Below the cut you'll find links to all the entries, release dates, and a list of changes I've made to the story.

The Cursed Journey: A Summary

The Cursed Journey is about a world where writer's block kills. Those who fall victim to the Writer's Curse enter a catatonic state and are kept alive at The Ward—if they can afford the treatment.

Ody Specter is one of the few remaining authors, though they can feel the curse breathing down their neck. They can't write forever, no matter how hard they try.

No one knows what writers experience once they've been seized by the curse. Some remain peaceful. Others twitch and murmur. Most thrash and scream until their bodies give out. But why? What's happening to them?

And what will happen to Ody?

Read the Cursed Journey...

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PART 7: SUMMIT

FOUR YEARS AGO

There was a time in my life where I thought nothing was worse than afterparties. Being forced to attend a party or ceremony was terrible enough, having to stay afterwards? It was like being given detention.

The night of the Hugo Awards might have been the worst of the worst, simply because I wanted nothing more than to go home and decompress while everyone else there wanted nothing more than to talk to me. I was moments away from doing something my PR team would regret when a bartender slid a tonic with lime in front of me.

"Compliments of the gentleman." They winked and pointed to the other end of the bar.

Min-joon was standing there, leaning against the glowing counter as casually as can be, his face and body awash in pink and blue light. He was wearing a sparkling black suit jacket, an open collared shirt made from sheer lace, and a stunning necklace that dripped down his neck and chest like a stream of frozen tears. It put my basic purple suit to shame. Min-joon wasn't even looking at me. He seemed fully engrossed in his phone, so I smirked and pulled out my own.

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PART 5: BRAINSTORM

FIVE YEARS AGO

"So, what are you working on?" Min-joon was at the stove. He wasn't using it—he was using the kettle—but I literally didn't have a counter in that apartment. What I had was a sheet of plywood laid across the stove's burners (I think that's what they're called, but that also seems a bit too on the nose).

I didn't cook—still don't—so the kettle lived on that plywood board along with a cup containing two sets of utensils, a pair of chopsticks, and one sharp knife. My mug and tea collection took up one shelf in my "kitchen", but the others had been repurposed for book storage.

I was sitting on my bed, leaning against a mountain of pillows and scribbling in a notebook. "Nothing good." I tried to erase a line so intensely that it ripped the page. "Ugh!" I tore it from the book, crumpled it into a ball, and threw it across the room.

"Dammit," I whispered, because—naturally—it missed the bin by at least half a meter.

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PART 8: MOTIVE

"What does this even mean?" Michael's face scrunches up. "To Kelly with the cool bangs?" 

I snort. "It's exactly what it says."

"But who is Kelly? Is this a reference? Am I missing something? Is there anything—or anyone—you need to tell me about?"

I look away from the hologram and roll my eyes. Hopefully, he still hasn't upgraded his phone and the projection's too blurry for him to tell. "Just print it, Michael. It's non-negotiable."

"Okay." His shoulders appear as he makes an exaggerated shrug. "But you know people are going to talk when we release this. Right?"

"Sure. People will theorize. Let them." I can hear exasperation seeping into my voice. The tremor is back in my hands and I can feel a cluster headache gathering like storm clouds. "My private life is public property. I'm a character as much as I am a writer." I shake a small white pill out of an orange bottle. "You should be happy if people are talking," I grumble before tossing the pill into my mouth, swallowing it dry—a decision I immediately regret. "That's what you want. Isn't it?"

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