Build A Game In Under 2 Hours! No, Really…

Metro Mage Games

Building games is very hard…

This likely goes through the mind of anyone sitting down to make their first game. Most gamers have ideas for their own game(s), and yet when we sit down to build we don’t even know where to start. This experience is one of the reasons I started my blog. This post is about how my group has consistently managed to create a playable game (some with real potential) once a month in 2-hours or less for about a year straight.

Typically we make use of whatever materials we have access to, so whatever is in your immediate proximity WILL WORK for this exercise, I promise. If you want to purchase some good materials there…

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The 2019 Gameological Not Just Game of the Year Awards

Ah, 2019. You kind of sucked. I mean I guess you started okay, but around the halfway point you took a turn for the worse and I’m glad to see you go.

But you know what’s always been good to me? Games. I played a lot of games this year. Read into my escapism however you want, but 2019 let me try my first Fire Emblem game, dip further into indie darlings, and deliver packages as a glorified UPS delivery man.

The following is a list of some of the more memorable, or unmemorable, moments from 2019 in gaming.

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Rock of an Age

“You know, I think Tool’s cover of No Quarter is actually better than the original.”

I almost fell over. My friend and I hailed from opposite ends of the rock spectrum. He wouldn’t consider anything written after 1979 as music. I thought anything that wasn’t alt-2000’s rock was boring. An admission of guilt on his part, that a band from the 90s would usurp the holy grail that is the progenitor of all rock music – Led Zepplin? It was a staggering, blasphemous remark.

The evolution wasn’t out of the blue. It was just another cataclysmic shift in the way he and I began to see music beginning in the winter of 2005.

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Back to School

My family had a ritual when I was growing up. If we were watching TV and a back to school commercial came on any time before August 15th or so, my sister, my mother, or me would rush to change the channel while my father cackled like a madman at the inevitability of our fate. Summer would end, sooner than we could have thought or hoped, and we’d all be forced to ride the bus to school while my father waved from the sidewalk before hopping in his car, gleeful with the knowledge we were suffering alongside him in our own way.

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