Let's make a note, aight?
I think a fair amount of reviews are assgrabbers and a great deal of praise and criticism, which I have waded through, tends to come off a little like that friend who spits too much. Spits profusely. All over your front porch. More in line with a compulsion than, say, Leonardo DiCaprio's elegant spitting performance in the film Titanic.
I don't want to spit too much here.
But I'm finding myself straying into avoidance.
This is my first review. I got a pit in my stomach that has more to do with medicine, cigarettes, coffee and a lack of food than anything else. (Booboo Hoohoo, powder my ass and be kind).
Then it passes. And now I'm thinking about That Which Slips Between, you know, just walking a straight fucking line, like a psykotropic Giacometti.
"What is that breathing line? Christ, is it moving? Hey. Look! It's getting close to you.. wait, is it?"
"The hell are you talking about? There's nothing ther..."
And then, entrails. Split like a seam. Armor, insubstantial. Falling to ankles.
It's creepy. This aimless razor of distortion. Right? That's a good monster, form-fitting. Though, I know nothing of it. But, and I would say, it's all in It's relationship to concentric circles - giving way to a further dimension of interaction. Mystery of kinesthetic behaviors made alien. You don't belong here. Walk the edge. There is a way to deal. Chalk Chalk Chalk.
One of the difficult aspects, in terms of creatures as impressions, is playability whilst having to deal with them. This IT, nicely balanced.
(Ah, shit. I did that thing. Okay, it's a good monster. Why do you want me to hurt you?)
Now, if only there was a way to clear the Pool. My problem is floor wetness as a base condition of entering the wizard's lair. If drawn circles are rendered total-fuck'd, then I feel that That Which Slips Between's peculiar eeriness may endure some shortchanging. In which case, it's a matter of disparity between locale and creature. Both are neat. But, friction of goal seems to exist.
Vivimancers get their time in the sun. I love this. I love Vivimancers. Gameplay semi-required performance is always an ethical issue, with tons of Giggles and Discomforts. The Pit of Flesh doesn't make me giggle. In fact, it made me sad. How do I convey this? I'm not sure, but I think it has something to do with the thing's Carcosian lifting and conversion to a low-fantasy environment, its out of sync desperation and need to be cared for or commanded. This need for Father or Purpose.
What a miserable little goo. But one that consolidates the Carcosian creature behavior into a workable and infinitely malleable Earthly entity. Which is pretty boss.
Potions - Rub me funny. It's a redundant scene that we consistently require for gameplay. I'll never entirely Down-On a potions list. It's bread. It's butter. Let's see... Ah! Here's one that I particularly enjoyed. Piggytoes. Sounds gross-fetishy to me, which I guess is important. Anyway, your toes get infected, fall off and then tiny hooves replace them. There's a vibe-world in this kind of magic. I can smell it. Can you?
But let me take pause. I'm not going far. Far is based off my stimulation and it ebbs and flows like being restless in a bathtub, so I'll get to the thing I primarily cared for - Matthew Adams monster vignettes. All three of them.
Statless. Prosaic and Short-Nipped. I understand the bastards. I know what to do with them. Good thing, cause I'm a slut for the ungroomed impressions of fiction / without correlation to a function. Let me figure that out, please. And this isn't to dismiss The Visitor, because the idea of Familial Taxidermist, curating this ideal image of household comfort and peace... It's beautifully perverse, no doubt. Though, it comes across like a Condition of local village social-lore (sometimes manifested), not a creature with specific physical characteristics and habits of movement. It's just a habit of horrific intention that does very specific and abject things to families.
But, I'm hereby losing my interest in this criticism. It's just preference towards how I feel things ought to be dealt with, which is neither here nor there when it comes to functionality. The Visitor is entirely employable, without me.
I don't want to wax. I don't want to wax much more. And I should have started with the list of shit obviously worth praise and notation. But, fuck it, let's just close with it. Try harder next time or whatever.
The Art -
Simon's Maps are always gold (Though I'd have liked an alternative exit/entrance plan for Between the cracks.)
Cedric's cover and Clay's Pit o' Flesh illustration provide an icky playfulness to the whole deal, which is warmly appreciated.
AND.. it has Matthew Adams (whose ass ought to be thoroughly kissed) drawings for creature representations. They are wonderful.
The Feel - How does Lamentations grab you? What is it's mouth-of-the-horse aesthetic tingle? Not entirely decided on this, maybe Green Devil Face would be a template, in which case I would say that The Undercroft zine is making headway towards a cohesive expression of these feelies.. and perhaps exceeding some along the way.
We'll see what comes next.
Peace.
I think a fair amount of reviews are assgrabbers and a great deal of praise and criticism, which I have waded through, tends to come off a little like that friend who spits too much. Spits profusely. All over your front porch. More in line with a compulsion than, say, Leonardo DiCaprio's elegant spitting performance in the film Titanic.
I don't want to spit too much here.
But I'm finding myself straying into avoidance.
This is my first review. I got a pit in my stomach that has more to do with medicine, cigarettes, coffee and a lack of food than anything else. (Booboo Hoohoo, powder my ass and be kind).
Then it passes. And now I'm thinking about That Which Slips Between, you know, just walking a straight fucking line, like a psykotropic Giacometti.
"What is that breathing line? Christ, is it moving? Hey. Look! It's getting close to you.. wait, is it?"
"The hell are you talking about? There's nothing ther..."
And then, entrails. Split like a seam. Armor, insubstantial. Falling to ankles.
It's creepy. This aimless razor of distortion. Right? That's a good monster, form-fitting. Though, I know nothing of it. But, and I would say, it's all in It's relationship to concentric circles - giving way to a further dimension of interaction. Mystery of kinesthetic behaviors made alien. You don't belong here. Walk the edge. There is a way to deal. Chalk Chalk Chalk.
One of the difficult aspects, in terms of creatures as impressions, is playability whilst having to deal with them. This IT, nicely balanced.
(Ah, shit. I did that thing. Okay, it's a good monster. Why do you want me to hurt you?)
Now, if only there was a way to clear the Pool. My problem is floor wetness as a base condition of entering the wizard's lair. If drawn circles are rendered total-fuck'd, then I feel that That Which Slips Between's peculiar eeriness may endure some shortchanging. In which case, it's a matter of disparity between locale and creature. Both are neat. But, friction of goal seems to exist.
Vivimancers get their time in the sun. I love this. I love Vivimancers. Gameplay semi-required performance is always an ethical issue, with tons of Giggles and Discomforts. The Pit of Flesh doesn't make me giggle. In fact, it made me sad. How do I convey this? I'm not sure, but I think it has something to do with the thing's Carcosian lifting and conversion to a low-fantasy environment, its out of sync desperation and need to be cared for or commanded. This need for Father or Purpose.
What a miserable little goo. But one that consolidates the Carcosian creature behavior into a workable and infinitely malleable Earthly entity. Which is pretty boss.
Potions - Rub me funny. It's a redundant scene that we consistently require for gameplay. I'll never entirely Down-On a potions list. It's bread. It's butter. Let's see... Ah! Here's one that I particularly enjoyed. Piggytoes. Sounds gross-fetishy to me, which I guess is important. Anyway, your toes get infected, fall off and then tiny hooves replace them. There's a vibe-world in this kind of magic. I can smell it. Can you?
But let me take pause. I'm not going far. Far is based off my stimulation and it ebbs and flows like being restless in a bathtub, so I'll get to the thing I primarily cared for - Matthew Adams monster vignettes. All three of them.
Statless. Prosaic and Short-Nipped. I understand the bastards. I know what to do with them. Good thing, cause I'm a slut for the ungroomed impressions of fiction / without correlation to a function. Let me figure that out, please. And this isn't to dismiss The Visitor, because the idea of Familial Taxidermist, curating this ideal image of household comfort and peace... It's beautifully perverse, no doubt. Though, it comes across like a Condition of local village social-lore (sometimes manifested), not a creature with specific physical characteristics and habits of movement. It's just a habit of horrific intention that does very specific and abject things to families.
But, I'm hereby losing my interest in this criticism. It's just preference towards how I feel things ought to be dealt with, which is neither here nor there when it comes to functionality. The Visitor is entirely employable, without me.
I don't want to wax. I don't want to wax much more. And I should have started with the list of shit obviously worth praise and notation. But, fuck it, let's just close with it. Try harder next time or whatever.
The Art -
Simon's Maps are always gold (Though I'd have liked an alternative exit/entrance plan for Between the cracks.)
Cedric's cover and Clay's Pit o' Flesh illustration provide an icky playfulness to the whole deal, which is warmly appreciated.
AND.. it has Matthew Adams (whose ass ought to be thoroughly kissed) drawings for creature representations. They are wonderful.
The Feel - How does Lamentations grab you? What is it's mouth-of-the-horse aesthetic tingle? Not entirely decided on this, maybe Green Devil Face would be a template, in which case I would say that The Undercroft zine is making headway towards a cohesive expression of these feelies.. and perhaps exceeding some along the way.
We'll see what comes next.
Peace.
0 Yorumlar