Edzio K.

A small shelf and overhang of a mountain recalls the dense jaw and teeth of an anglerfish, withstanding ocean fathoms like geologic pressure. Its stalactites fangs. A climber stands in this maw admiring a rainbow arc through the sunrise.

The cliff face is near black in shadow but for the small pale light of a climber. Across the stars of night is an aurora burning teal, ejections of the sun ionized into solar veins.

Spectral and foreign to all antecedent, the sun ignites aquamarine in its watch over a distant mountain. Whose divine light conveys no warmth. A climber stares back without shielding her eyes on a precipice mounded with snow.

Barren is the final spire in view of its terminus. Ice and rock. Atoms and stars.

Finished the ascent up Kami. So few games even explicitly about a journey convey the feeling of one — completely unlike this. It's a special and magical experience even before reaching a transcendent conclusion.

I could not recommend it more highly.

Thank you as ever for the immensely kind words Joe! It always makes the effort worthwhile.

Someone's been on a Frisell kick! One of my favourites and one of the most unique guitarists in any genre.

A small shelf and overhang of a mountain recalls the dense jaw and teeth of an anglerfish, withstanding ocean fathoms like geologic pressure. Its stalactites fangs. A climber stands in this maw admiring a rainbow arc through the sunrise.

The cliff face is near black in shadow but for the small pale light of a climber. Across the stars of night is an aurora burning teal, ejections of the sun ionized into solar veins.

Spectral and foreign to all antecedent, the sun ignites aquamarine in its watch over a distant mountain. Whose divine light conveys no warmth. A climber stares back without shielding her eyes on a precipice mounded with snow.

Barren is the final spire in view of its terminus. Ice and rock. Atoms and stars.

Finished the ascent up Kami. So few games even explicitly about a journey convey the feeling of one — completely unlike this. It's a special and magical experience even before reaching a transcendent conclusion.

I could not recommend it more highly.

Headlights of another car flare through the rear window in angles jagged. A child whose serene gaze looks toward his small hand embraced over the seat in his father's vast grasp. Opposite is the man. His expression set deeper in the lines and recessions of his face. Worry. Fear.

The man's thin hands grasp the colorless photo torn of miscellanea. The world is bled of detail but to this commitment. A young man with wavy hair of black

The celebrations of a city. Carnival. Its negative space is man whose gaze is downcast. Plain in his silhouette is sadness.

A blood erasure of the world and its daylight and the gunman whose revolver is set level as the last thing one will ever see.

The Secret Agent (2025).

📽️

159. i love basically everything by goya, but this image, 'fight with cudgels,' has always felt especially poignant to me. two fucking idiots drowning in the muck trying to murder each other.

Password changer

Intimate Taiwan is a country, the Uyghurs are subject to genocidal policies, the USSR shouldn't have subjugated Eastern Europe. Things of that nature.

"I AM NOT THE WEAPON THAT FAILED" Joyeuse. Running towards it on the red line through a castle of vectors, shadow, angularity.

"This Is Who You Are Now." White Helvetica. A gray screen from whose plane rises squares of absence. All is precise. Rectilinear. But for the epiphany.

The abstraction of a city among the skies. A double barrel gripped and leveled towards another core. 00:23.116 seconds have elapsed. Inestimable rises. Lacunae. Hostiles. Three cores.

Angular and monochrome is her rendering. Ostensibly a young and feminine figure. FAWN-A2. Fingerless dark gloves and eyes of porcelain. This against the digital abyss.

From the demo of CICADAMATA" (2026).

A criminally underexposed vectorheart platformer-shooter with supreme aesthetics.

Screenshot from Marathon (2026)

Screenshot from Marathon (2026)

Screenshot from Marathon (2026)

Screenshot from Marathon (2026)

Manifesting a singleplayer game with this art direction
Simply gorgeous

The waste is upsetting.

If I dare entertain a System Shock-like planet hopping stealth-shooter with these aesthetics, I'll die out of sheer weltschmerz. The menus are more awe-inspiring than the gameplay, imo.

For better and worse, I feel the menus are the best of the game.

Egon Schiele's "Portrait of Friederike Maria Beer" captures the bold and expressive style characteristic of his work, featuring a richly patterned dress and a dynamic pose. The intense colors and geometric patterns reflect Schiele’s focus on emotional depth and individuality, common in early 20th-century Viennese Expressionism.

Portrait of Friederike Maria Beer, 1914
https://botfrens.com/collections/88/contents/25583

Egon Schiele's "Agony" portrays distorted figures in a dynamic, angular composition, exemplifying his distinctive expressionist style. The tension and emotion are palpable, reflecting themes of suffering and the human condition, which are central to Schiele's body of work.

Agony, 1912
https://botfrens.com/collections/88/contents/25190

Nothing really of note.

Jazz, blues from Chicago to the Delta and beyond, two seaboards of rap scenes, Pynchon, Morrison, Faulkner, McCarthy, Broadway, Hollywood, Nashville, New Orleans, the CBGB, the Hudson School, Hopper, Frost, Scorsese, rock n' roll, the Western, Wright, Emerson, Thoreau...

If a party, whose dictatorial control was dismantled with a transition to democracy, committing terror on one's own people is somehow disqualifying to a people's expressed self-determination then the CCP is orders of magnitude more indicted.

Thank you for the kind sentiments and thoughts. 💜

A bit of a biomechanical freak accident, the incline bench had a bar to elevate one's feet and keep the knees perpendicular, I recruited more leg drive and caused the foot to curve over the bar producing some sudden force to which the ligament didn't take kindly. I'll stabilize on the floor always.

Still on a crutch when walking gets too tiring or difficult but returned to the gym for some machine work. Staunched some of the muscle atrophy. Has gotten rough psychologically being inside so much.

There aren't words sufficient to say how much I love Ian McKellen.

It's always a dire sign for someone's, hell even just basic imagination, that they reach for a narrative of suspicion when people disagree with them. It can't be others legitimately oppose far-right views, they must be in thrall to... Islamic peer pressure.

Hey, thank you for stepping into the trenches. I'm Polish and I've hard to learn so many details about the Katyn massacre and other atrocities to argue against this kind of revisionism. These are horrible things to have to know, let alone argue. Yet it's important always to challenge this.

It's harrowing to see someone in the comments do the immediate movement of "This person clearly isn't of the left otherwise they'd be anti-fascist like me... here's why Molotov-Ribbentrop was completely justified and the Poles needed to be killed..."

The woman's hard face looks to her left as though she's rendered an entire life disposable by a system of understanding. Her clothes and personal effects bracketed and changeable. An inventory. An operant toolkit selected.

A mistress of suspicion dissecting stuffed animals. Standing in cold regard in the many hues and din of a bazaar. Colours vivid with the sinking sun.

Ornate is the clutter of transit. Cargo. Imports. Exports. A vantage for exploitation. One figure stands in his sunglasses. The docks past midnight.

"Assign the unassigned assignment" — A small figure reaches for the freedom of birds. Before them an elephant carries a walled city on their back.

There's much familiarity with Kurvitz et. al. The writing is less maximalist but like the protagonist is more a scalpel and perhaps more to my taste than the extravagance of its spiritual predecessor.

Whatever else may come or has transpired, it's a ravishingly beautiful game.

Cryptonym: PSEUDOPOD: "I once knew a spy." All the world a monochrome wasteland. A melting glacier. Analogue distortion. Cross-sections of time offset. It will come into focus. Maybe.

A small city circle. Pavers and planters, denizens, autochthons, commerce and talk of the day orbit a wrought-iron gazebo. The camera is centered elsewhere, a gaunt woman in a large and transparent coat.

Unfinished, the strut stands isolated alone over the docks. Its truss and the diagonal chords recall a crucifixion amid the fog of morning. A lone figure vibrant in their clothing, red and white, ascends up a ladder.

His fingers steepled. His face the apogee of smugness. There is no fact of format or the frequencies encoded within that could be new to him. Petre. The Format Fetishist. We talk with him among the haze of magenta and orange of the bazaar.

From the demo of ZERO PARADES: For Dead Spies (2026).

I remember buying Disco Elysium on launch, faintly anxious if the game would resonate with me. Then the ambiance of the main menu unfolded, the artistry devoted to even trivial interface aspects indicated something exceptional.

Déjà vu.

I was apprehensive but I'm falling utterly in love with the demo. Stupendous work.

From an ocean of purple static, a red face with a texture like felt. Eyes glare like blood skies encircling a violent sun in twin reflections with a malice and condescension. Somehow it casts a shadow in this cacophonous scene.

Beside a cobbled city street, a figure cloaked in red and gleaming steel armour stands with her companion amid the shifting archipelagoes of passing cloud shadows.

In a clearing now made abject; bare rock and gnarled trees. A swirling void of blood orange — a vastness contained in a plane of impossible flatness.

The waves crash into the shore in a manner recalling the sky — the very hue entrancing for it would be chosen by some painters of the speculative for the visible cosmos by day, the receding foam suggesting guiding stars. A party stands at this coastline — the same shining Avatar, her old companion and a young blonde child. This, like all previous images, are screenshots of the immortal CRPG Ultima VII: The Black Gate (1992).

Ultima VII: The Black Gate (1992).

What surprises me is how contemporary and cohesive this feels — from an uncompromisingly contiguous world to charismatic details such as using a coin triggering a heads-or-tails game with a companion.

FATUM RACING CLUB

A race against time and fate in a digital vector world of early 2000s. This is a design concept inspired by the visuals of Wipeout, N, Darwinia and Colin McRae 2.0

Would you play a game like this?

It was one of the most beautiful games in look and sound on release — the impression of rain hitting each corrugated roof, muddy ditch and brook distinctly in the country farm mission stays with me decades later. Such fastidiousness in damage models and physics as well.