• ] Such kindness [
Every one of our written encounters is an unattainable impracticality.
It’s captivating to be near, in how I sneak up to Our kumgan in this project.
Fulfilled on one hand, yet I realize how listing the entire clumsy procedure feels quite childish.
It would be more “author-like” to repeat what only a few seem to mention, but... it’s a thankless task, and the complexity varies.
Now, when the concept of an indie developer has become bushy and sprawling, it’s hard to distinguish, from the outside, which self-publishing kiosk truly deserves the perception of samizdat, and when it’s just a way to deliver primitive information into the unshakable baryonic essence of the crowd.
It’s easy to make mistakes here, where you’re supposed to rely on... yourself.
Can you imagine?
Can you imagine what a preciousness of a choice this is? How valuable the time you entrusted to this text is?
It’s insane to think about That which I never dreamed of wasting... Green, oh so green!
• ] About colors. [
So, let’s assume, but why the rare meeting?
Overflow.
The Zolynh section, filled with its own avatars and links, is fuller than ever this year. There... the titles are conditional, indeed.
But let’s imagine for a moment that the world is neat.
Somewhere I just use the #hashtag, but I do use it. And so, Zolynh has been overcome by an inflammation of information, where this project has become the main publication. Far too much.
At first, it seemed to me that we’d meet again in three months, maybe eight...
And thus, a year passed.
You see, copying content everywhere, being distracting with it, is effective but insignificant in... my volume.
It’s not devoid of meaning, although I can be careless, or rather disheveled and messy.
Human, but also untidy, offering up a heap of mistakes.
But to turn the presentation Here, to bring it closer to desk-drawer drafts... Ugh.
So, though I’m not speaking of exclusivity (I fear it’s beyond my reach), every three months, occupying the news with a list of what’s been uploaded, done, or conceived — by default, it would feel like a portfolio platform. Excessive self-admiration.
Not the kind of spot I’d want to reserve in Steam, especially given the various events. I hadn’t seriously forecasted posting something by this date. That’s already a celebration.
It’s remarkable that, months ago, it could have been possible to release the indirect consequences of certain ideas, related or not (directly) to “The 22nd is Serda. f0a178,” and make them part of the discussion. HOWEVER...
There’s maturation; a reason builds up. Impatience on my part builds up just as effectively.
But then, is there a reason? An unkind or a solid one, but something unbearably bothers me, something weighs on me, as the build is still not in early access.
Haste has no place here.
Is it misplaced in the grandeur of the world?
Did I put it on the shelf myself, or was it there for ages, only now deciding to appear?
Questions that are not for the gaming section.
• ] 20 years ago, urban pastures would have unfolded here. [
Here is where it could end. Because after this, a technical enumeration of words would be cast ashore. But honestly, there doesn’t feel like a reason.
A reason to send this statement to the news archive.
Of course, there are times when the belly doesn’t... end.
And such drainage means lots of experiments. Lots of aberrations.
Which is why it matters to start differently, to reconcile with the obsessive imagery.
The next message will be a camouflet for me as well — while this text is still in the process of being written, I have no idea what will later be embedded.
But it’s required.
After all, you already know — the progress of development hasn’t stopped. Moreover, the stream spreads to the corners of the box.
So, it requires meaning.
• ] Why not... [choose carefree options for answers]? [
Where is the praise? Where is the passion when I secretly recommend you, secretly adore you, or at least hint at that echo so needed by many?
It’s not about fearing to let someone down, but there’s a reason why I don’t specifically mention You or Matt’s enviable pepper seedlings.
Names, pseudonyms, activities. And, of course, I’ll inevitably miss something.
Not a studio of children’s and youth films, and yet I’m responsible for the plasticine crafted within the achievements of only this century.
To tinker here, to scurry about, to hang up whatever it may be — this is where Mr. Bear gazes widely at these agonizing letters.
But I am a human spillover… Unpredictable, controllable.
~
This year, no matter how I tried to preserve the shimmer of a flare... No.
Don’t take my word for it; in these times, our preferences are nothing but our delusions.
Without excess words, I’m not part of it, and judge me for breaking the rules.
It would have been an exciting mischief to invite you to sneak a peek at this one day:
https://store.steampowered.com/app/3212530/Anthology_Of_The_Killer/
I console myself that the emulsion is intact.
BUT for now, I haven’t denied myself a utopian mischief.
You.
You are still the greatest celebration, approaching or already fulfilled.