Tangerine Antarctic – a player-first true detective RPG with a branching story, where your choices are everything.
Our community manager asked one of the writers for a devblog post. This is the completely honest and accurate report he got in reply.
I’m not forwarding any fucking memes. The buck stops here.
I open the calendar, see a meeting that has fuck-all to do with me, and start pestering someone on WhatsApp to send me the link. Which they do, with a vaguely upbeat hesitance.
The sliding camera cover on my laptop is half open, exposing a quarter of my greasy hair. I close it for a second but then uncover it again.
“Nice of you to join us,” says someone. “We were just discussing…” and they go on explaining whatever the fuck they were discussing. I nod approvingly, bless the meeting with a cross gesture like a priest, and leave.
Caffeine. I cook a cup of double espresso with my moka pot, using Red Bull instead of water. Great stuff, gets me pumped up for my shift. I log on to Jira and proceed to move random tickets from Not Started to In Progress to In Review to Finished. This is how work gets done, bitches, 34 hours worth of tickets solved in one minute.
All the apps are blinking with memes, 317 in total. Not forwarding any of them. Not a single fucking one. I am the motherfucking last stand — the Three Gorges Dam. In this life you can be an asshole or a simp, and good guys finish last. Moving the tickets is the easiest hustle ever, so yeah, no empathy for losers moaning about crunch time.
I finish a few more tickets. It’s almost half past noon, so I should get dressed if I want to retain my morning-person credentials. I consider intellectual honesty to be very important.
And here’s a photo from the Dark Math writers room.
Wanna know more, detective? Mainline the making of Tangerine Antarctic in real time on our Discord server: https://discord.gg/e4EZbnBcbE