Leaving the League, Part 6

Whew! So this took me long enough, didn’t it? In two more chapters I’ll finally wrap up the second season of the League series. I’ve started to sketch out the next season which will feature new characters and surprising revelations. So basically par for the course. Thanks to everybody who has been enthusiastic about this series even while it was on hiatus. You guys rock. 

Jack Valence had made the leap from musical tastemaker to celebrity superhero after admitting to having powers and forming the Orthodoxy. Of course I was under the impression that the Orthodoxy, for all its rebellious attitude, still functioned under the aegis of the SLA. I voiced these concerns to Boros, who sighed and shook his head ruefully.

“I can’t speak to Jack’s intentions. We take missions collectively as the Orthodoxy, but we also work independently. I can’t say what Jack thought he was doing here…”

“And we’re supposed to believe you’re here by coincidence? Or is it out of the goodness of your heart?” Ringo snapped.

The ringed superhero stood with arms crossed beside Justin, who looked none too pleased to be suppressing the powers of a room full of notable people with abilities. Boros didn’t back down.

“We didn’t see eye-to-eye. He found the job amusing so he took it. Pit some of the most well-recognized forces in Capital City against each other and see what shakes out? It’s a prankster’s wet dream.

“But have you asked yourselves what you’re all here?” Continue reading “Leaving the League, Part 6” »

What now?

So for the last few months I worked really hard on putting out Gods—which has accumulated a ton of plays and I guess people are happy with it! I’ve been wondering what’s next and perhaps you have as well. My hope was that my Patreon campaign would take off, giving me more resources to pour into my next game, but that hasn’t happened as yet. It’s a mixed blessing. The down time has allowed me to revisit a few projects that have been dormant. That said, I’m going to be working on Leaving the League again. I spent most of the day re-reading the series (and ack! My writing/editing skills have grown significantly since I started) and I’m finally ready to start working on it again.

I’m also in the midst of development on Bad Radicals of the Golden State which is a little bonus game that will be made available exclusively through my Patreon campaign. Beyond that I’ve started to spitball at the idea of a longer game taking place in the world of my djinn cycle stories, including The Flavor Triptych. Whew!

-B.

 

God(s) — Version 1.0

gods banner

Cupid starts his morning trying to decide whether or not to evict his long-suffered ex-boyfriend, Helios—who happens to be the sun personified—after a couple millennia of living together. His day gets more complicated from there. 

My months-in-development erotic twine game, God(s), is now fit for public consumption. It features:

– A script that clocks in at over 25k words.
– 5 Fuckable Characters (most with multiple sex options).
– 14 Unique Endings.
– A branching narrative that keeps track of previous choices.
– Art by the most excellent Jubell.
– A seriocomic tone that has players “literally lolling,” “Dead!” and “still giggling.” It has also been described as “very saucy” and “…so hot”

If you like this game and want to see more like it, support my brand new Patreon account!

God(s) — Playable Now!

So I’ve been working on this game for months now and it’s finally in a playable form for the first time! This is to be considered an alpha release because I haven’t play-tested strenuously enough to guarantee that you won’t encounter something totally broken, but I’m confident that most (if not all) of the 13 (!!!) endings are obtainable in this version. Again, this is not a finished product and you may encounter game-breaking bugs, if you’d like to play a more finished product, please just hang out for another few days while I put the finishing touches on the project.

Before version 1.0 is ready I’ll still have to incorporate more art into the finished project, clean up some of the code, and refine the overall presentation. However I’m so stoked for you to try this out that I could wait another day! Let me know if you dig it. Let me know if you encounter any bugs.

-B.

Xiuh1

Click the gentleman above to play the game or hit the following link.

Oh, How the Mice Play

Our boss prefers Doctor Spencer, though his phD is in Sociology. We keep track of his orders and take dictation as he holds his hands behind his back and stares out onto the city beneath him. Well, Bradley takes notes.

Technically I’m Bradley’s boss, but there’s not enough room—even in nearly seventy feet of office space—for two bosses. It’s my job to coordinate Dr. Spencer’s schedule with the precision of a surgeon and the ruthlessness of a bloodborne pathogen. The job pays well and keeps me in fitted trousers that hug my legs diligently and shirts tight enough to tastefully advertise the work that my trainer and I labor over.

If I seem overly conscious of my appearance, trust me it’s the job. Adam Spencer’s silhouette stretching out against the setting sun looks like the shadow of a titan and his ass, shoulders, and calves are so impressive that some men find it difficult to look directly at him. He expects a certain standard. Some days that standard makes it difficult for Bradley and I to do our jobs. But today, Bradley keeps sneaking looks at me over the tablet that’s permanently attached to his left hand. He takes notes as surreptitiously as ever, but there’s a ghost of a smile on his lips.

He raps out more notes, but this time he swings the tablet in my direction.

I can see whats printed there: Still sore?

Then he’s back to typing out Dr. Spencer’s wordy assessment of the company’s well-being. The shareholders have been restless for years, our market share sits at a frustrating plateau, and our boss smells a coup in every careless word. The environment, if it wasn’t so obscenely lucrative, would be toxic. Bradley and I have taken to cooperative stress relief.

Technically I’m his boss, but we both have keys to the executive bathroom and occasionally he finds me lingering there. More than once has Bradley—whose hair is long nearly to the point of being unprofessional, whose eyes are exactly as soft and perfectly blue as a likeness of Jesus I remember from my youth, who never raises his voice above the companionable—ordered me down on my knees and suggested, rather forcefully, that I “suck his fucking cock. Please.”

I’m technically his boss, and our pay grades reflect that, but, well, we work so closely together that it’s best to operate as equals. Today, for instance, has been stressful so Bradley offered a tantalizing proposition in front of the mirror that runs the full length of the executive bathroom. I found myself on all fours while he fucked me. I stared into my own rapidly reddening face as he wrapped his tie around my throat and pulled both sides like reins. His features twisted into a snarling, haughty parody of his normally obliging expression.

Dr. Spencer continues talking and I use most my restraint to ignore Bradley’s spunk running down my back and ass crack staining my tight, yet tasteful apparel.

Gods: Coming Soon (Seriously!)

gods

So I’ve been working on Gods or God(s) for, well, probably too long.

The good news is that it’s actually coming out soon. I’m so serious about this that I made a gif. That’s basically the same as a blood oath. I mean who makes a gif to advertise a twine game that isn’t even out yet?

-B.

500 Words:

precipice_title

The bonfire was down to cinders. The ash blew across the beach. The sun was close enough to rising that it cast a bluish haze over everything. Victor thought about how the light made his best friend’s hair, so blond it was almost white, seem like an image on an old broken computer screen.

“Kim thinks I’m going to propose to her before we leave,” Sean muttered.

Victor nodded. He looked further down the beach at Kim and Stacey because he didn’t trust himself to look at Sean. They were rolling cigarettes. Kim’s dark hair kept getting in her face. She swore. Stacey laughed.

“It’s fine to do whatever when we’re away, but we still have to think about how things are going to be when we get home. You know?” Sean said, more clearly now.

Victor nodded again. Sean’s shorts were still wet from when they’d all drunkenly ran into the sea. He’d rolled them up his thighs to keep them off of his legs. Victor could see his blond hair there, too. Neither of them were still drunk.

“She loves you,” Victor said.

“I know.”

“You should be with her.”

“You really think so?” Sean asked.

Victor heard Sean shift, saw his legs move as Sean turned toward him, looked at him, but Victor just kept staring at the blond hair on his best friend’s lower thigh.

“If your parents will pay. Why not? It’s not like there’s someone else.” Victor paused. Coughed. “You’ve been dating forever. She’s going to law school. It’s a good time.”

“I thought you’d tell me to wait. To find myself first. You’re always saying gay shit like that,” Sean said.

Victor finally looked up at Sean. His skin was blemished from years of acne and his eyes were muddy brown. Half the time his eyes were dilated from whatever high he was chasing down or running from.

Victor looked down again. Sean’s shirt was too short and it rose at the waist. Naked flesh sat between the bottom of his shirt and the top of his too-low-shorts. The lump where Victor knew Sean’s dick was looked significant.

Sean shifted again. He looked down at the beach where the girls were still rolling the mint-and-anise tobacco that Kim said the locals all smoked.  Victor scooted closer to Sean across the cool sand. They were shoulder-to-shoulder now and Victor could feel his friend’s warmth. He could hear Sean’s breathing quicken then gradually slow again.

“It doesn’t have to mean everything, you know? Me and Kim. I mean, shit, you and me, we’ve been friends forever. It’s different with us. That’s something.”

“I know. I know.”

Sean put a hand on Victor’s leg. It was warm, but rough, scratched from a long week of rough play and hard partying on the beaches of Ibiza.

Sean didn’t look at Victor when he said—”I’m going to propose to Kim”—but his hand, rough and warm, slid between Victor’s thighs anyway.

Not Perfect

So the new design isn’t perfect yet. It’ll be a while yet before I’m done tinkering, but this is the general idea. I think it’s a little more focused on the fiction and it looks pretty decent on tablets, too! Again, I’ll be messing around with it a bit in the coming days (the background, for example, needs some alignment love) but for right now I think it works. Feel free to lodge your complaints with the Official Complaints Department (my email, I guess?)

-B.

Dispatches from Wherever

I went to St. Louis to sell books (people liked the cover!)  took a vacation (in Boston, of all places!), had a friend visit (we toured the wonderful, mysterious streets of Chicago!), and drank far more than a body should. It’s been a wild, interesting summer and that’s not including the hours I threw into game development (in my other life) or my day job.

It’s totally understandable that this space feels a little neglected by comparison. But you know, dear reader, I shan’t keep you waiting overlong. At least not intentionally. I’m working on new stuff: games, fiction, etc.

Hopefully some of this shit will make its way to you through the unwieldy tubes sooner rather than later, but I’m playing a mean game of catch-up-quick. I do have a question for you though:

Would you rather play through a short demo of an upcoming twine project or just play it when it’s released and finished? 

Poll Closed. Thanks for your responses, y’all!

Least Valuable Player

Micky pushed open the front gate and looked around the yard. There were pink begonias blooming in flower boxes on either side of the stoop. They were fat-petaled, lovely. The garden surrounding the house was healthy, too: roses, tulips, even a few clutches of impatiens here and there. Micky climbed the stoop and dropped his baseball bat by the door. He fumbled around for the key in his pocket and unlocked the door. Cool air greeted him, it took the edge off of the summer night.

Dad was in the living room, sitting with one leg across the other, reading through the town ledger. His dangling foot bounced metronomically. Micky pulled his hood down and waved. Dad looked over the paper and smiled. He folded it precisely and tucked it into the side of his recliner.

“How’d the game go?” Dad asked.
Continue reading “Least Valuable Player” »

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