INKY SQUIGGLES

With lockdown easing (i.e., becoming rapidly non-existent) here in the UK, the prospect of wider travel is, maybe, hopefully, starting to seem not so dim and distant after all. My Google Maps timeline update for July even cranked up from one visited place to – get this –  two . These are heady times. Meanwhile, in adventure game terms, these past few months have seen me exploring a foreboding ancestral manor in Suffolk, England , the vibrant electronic markets and maid cafés of Akihabara, Japan , and the idyllic mountainside landscape of a fictional  provincial park . I think it's safe to say that, through lockdown and beyond, games like these will continue to fuel my spirit of adventure. Broken Sword: The Shadow of the Templars , Paris, France 'Paris in the fall, the last months of the year, at the end of the millennium. The city holds many memories for me – of music, of cafés, of love... and of death.'  –  George Stobbart Broken Sword's first entry s...

I might be unable to venture much further than the sheep-dotted Teesdale hills near my small hometown due to nationwide lockdown, but one can still dream of broader horizons. One of my favourite ways of travelling vicariously is through adventure games. These often emphasise immersion in another place or time, whether real or imagined, and the best examples achieve this through a combination of carefully constructed characters, mood-making music and fully realised settings. Rather than focus on the characters, who act as the natural faces of the games, however, I'd like to direct the spotlight to lesser-recognised characters – the locations themselves. From sleepy small towns in the Japanese countryside to the far-flung Wyoming wilderness, these game locations have inspired my own travel bucket list and creative writing as well as eased my anxiety during times of high stress and uncertainty (like now). The Longest Journey , Venice, Newport (New York's East Village), US ...

'Without even thinking about it, I used to be able to fly. Now I'm trying to look inside myself and find out how I did it.'  - Kiki, Kiki's Delivery Service After my fellow blogger Lynette shared a climactic passage from one of her first stories, in the interest of fairness, I dug around in my own under-the-bed reserves of shame (the writer's equivalent of the dirty magazine collection, if you will). I present to you an extract from one of my earliest longer story attempts, The Lightbearers :

I have just reread one of my first works of fiction , grandly entitled: "The Jealous Rival: In Death Not Divided". Featuring beautiful maidens, awful love poetry, and grisly deaths, it is a masterpiece of my 10-year-old imagination. Here's a gem of a scene: "Bertram and Geraldine were immensely happy and started to make plans for a grand wedding. But then, alas, shadows began to darken over their paths. Cordelia was secretly in love with Bertram de Vere herself, and when Geraldine told her about the engagement, she was simply furious...One evening, Cordelia, thinking they were alone, pushed Geraldine off a bridge with a wild mocking, 'Ha ha ha! You will never marry Bertram now!' But Bertram saw it all and at once he plunged into the dangerous current, exclaiming, 'I will save thee, my peerless Geraldine! Have no fear!' But alas, he had forgotten that he couldn't swim, and they were both drowned, clasped in each other's arms." Well,...

Three stories up. Unforgiving concrete below. My heart was hammering in my throat as I swung my leg over the balustrade of the balcony, and I froze, suddenly and acutely aware that dying was a possibility if I messed this up. But I had to get out of the house. Everything I wanted was out of the house. I simply couldn’t stay in the house any longer. Climbing from my balcony to my next door neighbour’s balcony was the only way out, since there was a party in the street below and many guests had parked their motorbikes and were sitting at tables right outside my front door. I didn’t know how long the party was going to continue. Eyeing the celebrations below me, I wondered how traumatic it might be for the guests if a phalang (foreigner) suddenly crashed their party—literally.

The following short story was inspired by a prompt to combine a broken watch, peppermints, and a hug that went too far. Enjoy and please share any feedback! *** Kayleigh slowly unwrapped a peppermint, her own state of calm a sharp contrast to the screaming, excited children who careened around the yard in front of her, kicking about birthday balloons and chasing each other with ice-cream-sticky fingers. Placing the peppermint delicately in her mouth, Kayleigh let the taste tingle over her tongue.   Sweet, but sharp, much like unrequited love , she reflected.           “Mommy, mommy! The clown is scaring me!” A shrieking blonde-haired six-year-old, resplendent in party hat and sparkling pink tutu, threw herself into Kayleigh’s lap. The woman sighed good-naturedly and kissed her daughter’s head.            “But you insisted on having the clown, darling. Don’t be afraid; go ask him to teach you how...