The Squite - Merry Klikmas Mr ._a!!!!

mkapolk's picture
squite screeny.png

Merry Klikmas mr._a!!!

I liked how all your disjoint inspiration phrases circled a particular aesthetic. I think I may have focused a bit much on the ugliness rather than the coziness, but I hope it's not too far from what you envisioned.

It's all mouse driven. Click to move and move the mouse to the edges of the screen to pan the camera.

Sound attribution:
https://freesound.org/people/mkoenig/sounds/78469/
(the rest were cc0)

Event Created For: 
Made For: 
An event

Comments

clyde's picture

Whoof. That was anxiety

Whoof. That was anxiety inducing in an interesting way. I totally murdered that person. I like how blood is treated as something mystical.

karen-k's picture

something special!

something special!

quasiotter's picture

bagels in kiev

i want to be inside your mind when you make video game but also i don't

Capt_hastings-Chrissy's picture

Like a flying insect that

Like a flying insect that comes inside my house, I was trying to get outside the whole time. I think I have a whole new perspective on why they beat themselves against the windows now, like it's gonna eventually do something. The aesthetic was nice, I felt like I was spying on someone.

Alchiggins's picture

I also totally murdered that

I also totally murdered that guy.
The whole thing looks and sounds slick as hell.

mr. mosquito 2048: space funeral

I am ferociously lucky to have scored an original mkapolk game. It is a richly festering thing. It stirs words in worders & murmurs in my dry old mattress soul.

Really, it is remarkable how much you managed to incorporate and how slowly I come to recognize them; it feels so much more its own thing. Each member of the parade pauses as they pass so I can squint and sputter "oh! you look familiar too!" before they slap my swelling cheek and bark "why yes, we met at a party last winter! trepanning has turned you to a sieve!" And so I reel until the next one, anon. Slap, reel, slap, reel, Slap, reel

Back inside the coffin, muffling face in wobbling wools, sweating slightly, much less anxious now the throbbing has stopped, the long-night dawn of realization: windows papered in climate change predictions, our ugly vessel above a boiling star, the air here stale too, infected with the wrong kind of magic, but at least they left us a fucking christmas tree to glower from while the slow blood clots and sparkles in our throat is this what i have wrought?the end?the end?the end

thanks! merry klikmas! have a safe new year!