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At Probably Entertainment, we don't only make games. 

We write random bullshit and create awesome bullshit.  We'll post it all here for your enjoyment, so let us know what you like--we'll make more of it if you tell us to! 

 

Thursday
Apr022015

Dabbling in daubing

I feel vaguely obligated to prove that we actually did stuff for the last year+ of lacking updates.  And you can't spell "Probably Entertainment" without "art paint bleemenort," so I bought some supplies and did just that.  

Something something I clearly don't have professional photographical equipment.  At some point, you'll see that I took the pictures on my stove because my kitchen has the least terrible lighting.  I still consider these works in progress, but no one can tell either way, so here ya go.  

These go in roughly chronological order, and except where obvious, are representative of absolutely nothing.  

 

Why's the tree sideways?  Yeah.  It was supposed to just be branches, and I got a little carried away.  I have ideas for this, but haven't implemented them yet.  

 

 

 

 

Or maybe this doesn't indicate to you that I spent much time creating in 2014.  Fine, dick.  They got better.  I'll show those another time.  

 

Monday
Mar232015

Arrogance, Athlete campaign: level one

I introduced the game Arrogance a couple weeks back as the first game Jacob and I worked on.  It's a real-time strategy game in a world where arrogance has become tangible, and people are capable of whatever they're arrogant enough to believe they can do.  If you want to read the pitch for the game first, you can find it here.  Otherwise, continue reading the first level.  It's meant to introduce players to the world of the game, to introduce them to real-time strategy games in case they're new to the genre, and to keep the first level from being ungodly boring for anyone familiar RTS games.  

 

Competition One: LET’S GO, RAGNAROK HIGH!!!

Some terminology:

CUTSCENES occur outside of gameplay, taking camera control from the player. 

VOICEOVERS occur during gameplay.  As necessary, portraits of additional speaking characters are shown on the left side of the screen. 

TITLE OVER means text appears on the screen as a message to players. 

 

INT. LOCKER ROOM – DAY

CUTSCENE: THE COACH, a roid-raging high school gym teacher, paces manically before speaking. 

THE COACH:  Team!  We gotta go beat that other team! 

TITLE OVER:

     Beat the other team in a race! 

THE COACH (CONT’D):  Team?  Where are you?  Shit I don’t have a team. 

TITLE OVER:

     Beat the other team in a race! 

     Find a team! 

     THEN beat the other team in a race! 

 

EXT. LOCKER ROOM – DAY

CUTSCENE: the Coach addresses five pathetic WATER BOYS. Water boys lack the muscle mass to join the AV club, let alone play sports.  Their voices screech and their self-esteem can’t drop any lower.  A JUNK PILE towers behind them.

THE COACH:  Hey!  Fuck faces!  I need to form a sprinting team! 

WATER BOY #1:  You want us to run?

THE COACH:  No!  You’re worthless!  I want you to dig through the garbage! 

WATER BOY #2:  Why are we digging through the trash?

THE COACH:  We need uniforms!  And batons! 

WATER BOY #3:  Can’t we just buy some?

THE COACH:  We’re a public school!  We don’t have any funding! 

WATER BOY #4:   But, but, wouldn’t someone have to throw those away in order for us to find them? 

THE COACH:  Let me explain this as clearly as I can.  (pause)  FUCK YOU!  (long pause)  If there weren’t uniforms and batons in that Junk Pile, then why would it be here?  Now get to work!

TITLE OVER:

     Click on your Water Boys, then right-click on the Junk Pile to collect junk. 

 

EXT. JUNK PILE – DAY

VOICEOVER: the Water Boys start collecting junk and returning it to the Locker Room. 

THE COACH:  What?  Where is our gym?   

WATER BOY #1:  We… don’t have one. 

THE COACH:  Dammit!  That’s what’s wrong with education—everyone knows you need to learn how to walk before you can run.  And you need to make people run for their lives before you can learn anything!  

WATER BOY #2:  What? 

WATER BOY #3:  They never taught us that. 

THE COACH:  Exactly!  Because you don’t have a gym!  Grab some more junk and then build me a gym! 

WATER BOY #2:  But… how do we…

THE COACH:  Just do it! 

TITLE OVER:

     Command a Water Boy to build a gym once you have 150 junk. 

 

EXT. JUNK PILE – DAY

VOICEOVER: the Water Boys continue to collect junk. 

WATER BOY #1:  Is he even a teacher here? 

WATER BOY #2:  I don’t remember him. 

WATER BOY #3:  He made me pee my pants. 

WATER BOY #1:  I thought that was me. 

WATER BOY #3:  Sorry.  It splashes more when I’m intimidated. 

WATER BOY #4:  All I know is that people who yell at me are usually right. 

WATER BOY #3:  Yeah, he seems pretty sure he’s a teacher, so I think I believe him. 

The other Water Boys murmur their assent. 

WATER BOY #1:  I know he said there were uniforms and batons in here, but has anyone found any two by fours?  Or blueprints? 

WATER BOY #2:  I failed woodshop, and even I know this isn’t where buildings come from. 

THE COACH:  I’m an expert on this kind of thing—I’m a health teacher! 

WATER BOY #1:  Oh no, you’re still here?  When did you start listening to us? 

THE COACH:  Never! 

 

EXT. JUNK PILE – DAY

VOICEOVER: after the Water Boys have collected 150 junk. 

THE COACH:  Finally!  Now, build a gym! 

WATER BOY #1:  You do it, Steve! 

WATER BOY #2:  I don’t think I know how. 

THE COACH:  Just click on the buttons!  And put it there, by the Locker Room! 

 

EXT. JUNK PILE – DAY

VOICEOVER: a Water Boy starts to build a gym. 

WATER BOY #2:  Where did this foundation come from? 

THE COACH:  You found it in the junk!  That’s why it’s called a foundation!  I should know, I’m a word teacher!  Now, keep building! 

WATER BOY #2:  But… it’s all garbage. 

THE COACH:  They’re just prefabricated materials!  Quit making excuses and start making walls! 

WATER BOY #2:  Don’t I need a building permit? 

THE COACH:  A permit?  I already told you to build it! 

WATER BOY #2:  …what? 

THE COACH:  I think it’s in the junk.  Steve, find it for me in the junk pile!

WATER BOY #2:  But… I’m Steve. 

THE COACH:  (indicating Water Boy #1) No, he’s Steve!  You’re Jim, because I’m telling you how to build the gym.  Because I’m a Jim teacher!  What don’t you understand about this? 

WATER BOY #2:  Everything. 

THE COACH:  That’s why we’re building a gym! 

 

EXT. GYM – DAY

VOICEOVER: Water Boy #2 just finished building the gym. 

THE COACH:  Great work, Jim!  You earn an A for it looks like shit! 

WATER BOY #2:  I did my best. 

THE COACH:  You’re worthless! 

WATER BOY #4:  He’s yelling, so I think he’s right, Jim. 

WATER BOY #2:  I know. 

THE COACH:  But where are my Sprinters? 

WATER BOY #1:  We don’t know. 

THE COACH:  Make some!  Click on the building and make me Sprinters! 

WATER BOY #2:  How do we click? 

THE COACH:  Not you!  You need to keep collecting junk!  Otherwise how will we ever be able to make all of the Sprinters we need for my team? 

WATER BOY #1:  So who is clicking? 

THE COACH:  It’s not important!  But whoever it is better click on the gym, and then click on the Sprinter button.  I’m talking to you! 

WATER BOY #1:  I thought you weren’t—

THE COACH:  I’m not talking to you! 

 

EXT. GYM – DAY

VOICEOVER: after training, the first SPRINTER appears outside the gym.  Sprinters are short, wiry, and especially fiery after consuming arrogance. 

SPRINTER #1:  Yeah Coach, come on, let’s go let’s go! 

WATER BOY #1:  But… where did that guy come from? 

THE COACH: What?  It’s a building—there are always people in buildings!  Where else would they come from?  Didn’t you pay any attention in health class?

WATER BOY #2:  Actually, I think I pulled him out of the trash. 

THE COACH:  What a go-getter!  Now, go get me more! 

TITLE OVER:

     Train three more Sprinters. 

 

EXT. JUNK PILE – DAY

VOICEOVER: Sprinter #1 watches the Water Boys working. 

SPRINTER #1:  What’re you punks up to? 

WATER BOY #1:  We’re carrying junk back to the Locker Room.   

SPRINTER #1:  The hell?  Why? 

WATER BOY #2:  Mom says that keeping busy is important. 

WATER BOY #3:  And the Coach said to do it because we’re worthless. 

SPRINTER #1:  Huh.  Wouldn’t running like that be good training for me?  Maybe I’ll help. 

THE COACH:  (to Sprinter #1)  Are they bothering you? 

SPRINTER #1:  No, I—

THE COACH:  (to the Water Boys)  Quit ruining my team, momma’s boys! 

SPRINTER #1:  Coach, can I go running or something?  I’m getting ansty as hell just standing around. 

THE COACH:  No!  I have something better in mind, just wait for me to finish training the rest of the team! 

 

EXT. GYM – DAY

VOICEOVER: the fourth Sprinter finishes training and appears outside the gym. 

THE COACH:  Team!  It feels great to finally have someone worthwhile to yell at!  (The Sprinters cheer.)  But you’re worthless!  You need to be faster than the other team, so go running!  Over there!  (A ping appears in the lower right corner of the minimap.)

SPRINTER #1:  Where at, Coach? 

THE COACH:  I told you already on the minimap!  (Another minimap ping.)  So go there now! 

SPRINTER #2:  What’s a minimap? 

THE COACH:  It’s as useful as clicking!  Just go there, to the lower right!  (A final minimap ping.)

 

EXT. ARROGANCE POOL – DAY

CUTSCENE: when the Sprinters reach the site of the minimap ping, they discover an ARROGANCE POOL, a purplish-black morass where liquid arrogance collects.  Any sane person would avoid it. 

SPRINTER #1:  Whoa whoa whoa—what is that?  I only got one rule about running, and it’s “never run past anything crackling with energy—especially if it’s a puddle!”  I learned my lesson. 

THE COACH:  Fuck you!  That’s just Superade!  I already drank buckets of it, it’s fine!  Water Boys—collect all that grape Superade and bring it back to the Locker Room! 

TITLE OVER:

     Collect the Superade.  He’s yelling, just do it! 

 

EXT. ARROGANCE POOL – DAY

VOICEOVER: the fifth Water Boy harvests “grape Superade” from the Arrogance Pool. 

WATER BOY #3:  This doesn’t taste like grape… this tastes like Armageddon. 

THE COACH:  Why are you drinking it?  That’s for the real athletes!  Just for that, build me a Swoll-Mart!

WATER BOY #3:  A Swoll-Mart? 

THE COACH:  Yeah, a Swoll-Mart!  “Swoll-Mart—where everyone is down to flex!” 

WATER BOY #3:  Don’t we need franchising rights? 

THE COACH:  Why wouldn’t I have some?  Now, build it for me, Martin! 

WATER BOY #2:  I think he means you, Tom. 

THE COACH:  Yeah, you, Martin!  Build me a Swoll-Mart!  Right next to where Jim put the gym! 

TITLE OVER:

     Build a Swoll-Mart near the gym. 

THE COACH (CONT’D):  Once you’re done, we can make our Sprinters into real athletes, thanks to all this Superade! 

 

EXT. SWOLL-MART – DAY

VOICEOVER: the Water Boys have collected 100 Arrogance and completed the Swoll-Mart. 

THE COACH:  Now, by clicking on the Swoll-Mart and then on the button for “Flexing”, we can make real athletes out of you! 

SPRINTER #1:  So this is gonna make us even faster? 

THE COACH:  Of course not!  But you’ll feel unstoppable! 

SPRINTER #2:  That sounds like the same thing. 

THE COACH:  It isn’t!  It’s even better. 

 

EXT. SWOLL-MART - DAY

VOICEOVER: the Sprinters wait for the upgrade to finish.  Note—the Flexing upgrade increases the Sprinters’ attack damage. 

SPRINTER #1:  Come on, let’s get going already! 

THE COACH:  It’s already going!  Let the Superade do its work. 

SPRINTER #1:  So… we can just stand around and get stronger? 

THE COACH:  Of course!  Haven’t you ever heard of electrolytes? 

SPRINTER #2:  I don’t think this shit is working. 

THE COACH:  Then drink more!  And give me some! 

 

EXT. ARROGANCE POOL – DAY

CUTSCENE: once the Flexing upgrade is complete, the Coach and his team of Sprinters drink cup after cup of arrogance. 

THE COACH:  Drink it all!  Drink to sports, and muscles, and 110%!  Drink to the god of winning! 

SPRINTER #1:  You mean Nike? 

THE COACH:  No!  It’s me!  I’m gonna make you the best team that’s ever lived!  Don’t you feel it? 

SPRINTER #3:  I think I’m starting to feel it, yeah! 

SPRINTER #4:  It feels like I could… like I could run right up to someone and rip out their throat! 

SPRINTER #2:  It feels like I could have a throat-ripping race! 

SPRINTER #1:  I feel like I could attack Russia in the dead of winter. 

THE COACH:  Then do it!  Make those pansies see red! 

 

EXT. RACE TRACK – DAY

CUTSCENE: the Sprinters and OPPOSING SPRINTERS are positioned for a 4 x 100 race.  The Opposing Sprinters are much tamer than your Sprinters, who flex incessantly. 

THE COACH:  Remember—all that matters is winning!  No matter what, beat the other team! 

TITLE OVER:

     Beat the other team. 

The first runners drop into starting positions, and tense for the starter pistol.  Your Sprinter stands up and flexes as the starter pistol FIRES.  Both runners take off—but your team is clearly losing. 

THE COACH (CONT’D):  Dammit!  I knew this would happen!  I didn’t train you guys for 30 seconds—each!—just to have you lose! 

SPRINTER #1:  (out of breath) Why… did you… make me… lift weights? 

Sprinter #1 hands the baton to Sprinter #2. 

SPRINTER #2:  (out of breath)  And why… did you make me… karate chop cinder blocks?  That hurt, broseph! 

Sprinter #2 hands the baton to Sprinter #3. 

SPRINTER #3:  (out of breath)  Math… seriously? 

Sprinter #3 throws the baton to Sprinter #4.

SPRINTER #4:  (out of breath)  You scowled… the whole time… and kept on saying… fuck you. 

The opposing team’s final runner crosses the finish line.

THE COACH:  Fuck you… fuck you… fuck you—fuck you—fuck you—I knew I didn’t give you enough Superade!  I told you to beat them! 

SPRINTER #1:  But… they were faster. 

THE COACH:  TO DEATH! 

TITLE OVER:

     Beat the other team.  

     Beat the other team TO DEATH!!! 

 

EXT. RACE TRACK – DAY

VOICEOVER: Continuous.  The Opposing Sprinters celebrate their win as the player commands his Sprinters to attack. 

THE COACH:  Bury them!  Alongside your emotions! 

OPPOSING SPRINTER #1:  Isn’t this against regulations?  Ow! 

THE COACH:  You heard him, team!  Regulate those fools! 

SPRINTER #1:  Their insides taste like that Superade! 

THE COACH:  Quench your bloodthirst! 

OPPOSING SPRINTER #2:  Winning made me too tired to run for my young life! 

SPRINTER #3:  Quite gloating! 

SPRINTER #4:  Yeah, don’t be a sore loser! 

SPRINTER #1:  See you in hell’s locker room! 

OPPOSING SPRINTER #4:  We’ll beat you there! 

OPPOSING SPRINTER #2:  Way to rub it in, Donny!  (screams in agony) 

 

EXT. RACE TRACK – DAY

CUTSCENE: after defeating the Opposing Sprinters, the Coach gathers his Sprinters into a huddle. 

THE COACH:  Congratulations, team!  You get an A for assault with a deadly weapon! 

The Sprinters cheer and slap each other on the back. 

THE COACH (CONT’D):  Water Boys, bring us buckets of victory Superade!  Drink up, team!  Our record is 1-0.  Now, let’s make it 2-0 by destroying their whole school! 

Sprinters cheer again. 

 

FADE OUT:

     End of level.  

Wednesday
Mar112015

Saturday afternoon application to neighborhood brain clinician

Maybe this is over-sharey.  However, fuck a social stigma about mental health.  That needs to disappear forever.  

I wrote this a few weeks back, and only tonight looked at it again.  It's the first nonfiction I've written in a long time, and I hope that sharing it makes me write more.  The title's obviously garbage, but here ya go:

 

I’m looking for a therapist. 

Do you need to ask? 

Logged onto my insurer’s website, searched by mental health, taking patients, real nearby. 

Each specifies their areas of expertise, their approaches to helping people like me, the bits of their lives I get to know. 

Fuck, a lotta therapists enjoy gardening. 

Exercise. 

Outdoor activities. 

Long walks on the beach. 

Jesus.  I didn’t redirect to Match, did I? 

One guy says he likes naps.  He’s my favorite, but somehow snuck past my “real nearby” criteria.  I’m not gonna drive 25 to wake him from a power snooze. 

He’s not even sure why he joined the field, he’s just glad he did. 

Breck.  That’s his name.  But location, location, location, homes. 

The site only lets me compare three people at a time.  I’m not sure yet what the site will actually compare, but I have to eliminate options on the fly. 

Anxiety and depressive disorders.  Pretty much all these motherfuckers do that. 

I weed out the ones who do serious shit—eating disorders, PTSD, trichotillomania (I presume it’s hardcoreshit)—because I don’t need them that bad. 

I knock out anyone who is too attractive. 

Anyone who says they see wonderment in children. 

Any mention of faith. 

The lesbian, regrettably. 

Not that she was unattractive.  She looked nice. 

I’m wary of the psychiatrists.  I haven’t even smoked pot; lithium sounds a bit intense. 

Lithium’s not even some man-made drug.  It’s element #3 on the periodic table.  It’s like huffing hydrogen or snorting an eight ball of beryllium or World War 1 chlorine gas coughing up lung clusterfucks.   

That shit goes in batteries. 

Although I have been tired lately. 

Eliminate the bilinguals and trilinguals, even though Tagalog sounds inviting. 

All right, fuck it.  Let’s compare these three. 

Yep, all taking new patients. 

All have mental health or psychiatric credentials.  Of course. 

They provide care nearby.  Yup. 

Available services:

                               Online Appointments

After Hours Care

Free Parking

Electronic Health Records

View all

 

Of course, let’s see ‘em. 

  • After Hours Care
  • E-Prescribing
  • E-Visits
  • Free Parking
  • Medication Therapy Management
  • Nationally Accredited Diabetes Education—uhhhhhh
  • Offers Eyewear Discount—whyyyyyy
  • Bone Mineral Density (DEXA)—this is just what the clinic offers
  • General X-Ray—that’s not what I asked for at all
  • Hearing Aid Supplier—he has to listen to me, not the other way around
  • Laboratory—way to be specific, guys.  I appreciate it. 
  • Routine Vision Care—so I can view all? 

 

I settle on the gobliny guy who gardens at the corner place where another dude held my balls and I coughed. 

 

Wednesday
Mar112015

Arrogance: the pitch

Jacob and I essentially created Probably Entertainment over lunch one day by talking about what a real-time strategy game would be like if it were based on things that really exist.  Today.  Farmers or athletes or wild animals or ents.  

See, we lost the "really exist" thing pretty quickly.  A lot of other stuff fell away, but it's all for the best.  

The game concept really took off when we pondered the resources players would gather.  Gold? Lame as hell. Oil?  Also blah.  Cardboard?  It's got a lot of utility, but it's a little flimsy on cool factor, y'know?  

All bullshit aside, what do you really need to fight a war?  

Take away the technology, take away the money, take away the propaganda.  

You need two things.  

One: something to kill your enemy.  

Two: the ego to think you can.  To think the horrors of war are worth it.  To commit war crimes, you gotta think you're right.  You only win by thinking you should.

This charming little game never quite developed a name, but I refer to it as Arrogance because, well. It wouldn't be as great as it is if not for all that arrogance.  

In the coming weeks and months and perpetuity, I'll give you bits of the game.  I still love the world, and I still work on the game whenever I need something really ridiculous to dive into.  This first tidbit is how we'd imagined pitching the game.  If you enjoy it, let us know.  

 

 

Like John Lennon said: Imagine… 

Imagine two sports teams with such bitter rivalries that they ignite World War III.

Imagine department stores turned gangs, murdering for market share.

Imagine that bears can talk.

Stop imagining: this is Arrogance, the absurd real-time strategy game.

Liquid arrogance seeps from the ground—and consuming it drives even timid folk to pursue manic power fantasies.  You’re freshly addicted.  The world crumbles because you lead any of five unlikely but awesome factions in their grab for global domination.  Superhuman athletes train for Super Brawl Sunday vs. swarms of minimum-wage workers armed with minimum-wage weaponry.  Zealots of the Über-Faith smite criminals whose schemes plunge the art of war to new depths.  Bears talk.

In REAL GAMEPLAY defensive linemen repel chainsaw-wielding manslaughterers as grizzly trebearchets hurl bee hives into the fray.  You can ACTUALLY MAKE baseball players hit home runs with the heads of choir members singing hymns of annihilation.  THRIFTLESSLY, your robber barons toss fiery wads of cash at one-armed lepers, only to gasp as bipolar bears hug all the happiness money can buy from their lungs.  IF YOU’RE LUCKY, corrupt referees will cry foul play as your clouds of guilt choke them with their own sins.  IN TIER THREE your venture capital ships spearhead legions of sales clerks, clashing with bears that conjure earthquakes, blizzards, and rage lightning.

And please recall that those bears can ACTUALLY TALK.

To YOU.

Stop imagining these epic situations and mourning John Lennon. 

Even he would play this game. 

 

Drink some Arrogance today. 

Monday
Oct282013

Knowledge: what a great way of realizing the potential of impossibility.

“Where do your ideas come from?”  is one of those impossible questions people like to ask writers.  Ideas come from… being a writer, sort of.  You wouldn’t write if you didn’t have any ideas.  It’s akin to asking someone what their most essential qualities are—they might have a clue, but they can’t possibly give you the murder weapon and point you to the conservatory. 

(yeah, it’s maybe too subtle, too bad)

But I realized something about my ideas!  And lacking sleep or any other Smatterings ideas, I figured I’d write about it. 

I like understanding things.  The nitty-gritty of how moments cohere as a process unfolds all the way up to the lumbering interactions of clashing systems: awesome.  I just want to know what’s going on. Why is it happening?  From photosynthesis to vectors to calculus to rules about what healthcare options pastors have, I want to know the ins and outs.  Sometimes it means I know interesting and useful things; sometimes it means I know IRS rules about flexible spending accounts.  Either way, it’s part of who I am, which means it’s a part of my process as a writer. 

In Final Fantasy, there’s a spell called Demi.  Demi deals damage equal to ¼ of your target’s current life.  Since magic is tied to different elements (fire, ice, wind) in Final Fantasy, some designer got to thinking and decided that Demi was gravity magic. 

Gravity magic. 

What is gravity?  A physical law.  Of science. 

This designer created science magic. 

Which is dumb as hell.  But I love it.  It’s some combination of oil and water, of bringing together what should never coexist and making it a tasty salad dressing, of playing with knowledge.  It’s grown-up “what if?”  It’s needing a rationale and realizing that the world cannot explain magic or abstract systems like hit points and needing to present it as utterly logical anyway. 

I’ve deemed this type of thinking re-mystifying.  You know how the world really works… but wouldn’t it be interesting if someone could just tweak that?  Make friction his toy? 

(…hey ladies)

Or turn human emotions into a resource system?  Make faith and doubt an intertwined hydroelectric power plant for deities?  You need electricity, and you should never mix it with water—but water makes some damn fine electricity.  So why shouldn’t arrogance taste like Gatorade and turn athletes into an unstoppable army? 

Why shouldn’t 110% be possible? 

It’s escapism, guys.  Of course you can put big ideas in there.  If it wasn’t already abundantly clear, I love ideas.  More games should tackle high-minded concepts—and many, many more games should have fun doing so.  Play with your facts.  It’s a great way of breathing new life into an old world. 

(or breathing new life into your ever-expanding roster of characters… just sayin’)  

Also, could someone take this image and make the third gear says "BOOBS"?  It's impossible to find a picture about creativity that isn't being lofty about it.  Lighten up, guys.  Being pretentious doesn't make you a better artist.  

Bonus points for making the third hole a nipple.   

 

(a subtle nipple)