The Stanley Parable, a game about choice and direction and consequences, was amazing. I enjoyed it thoroughly, and had fun playing the game with the few people that stopped by to watch. I don't really want to give more of a review than that, in case someone wants to play it eventually. I encourage it entirely. There's a free demo that you should check out if you have a computer capable of running it. It should give you a good feel for what the game's like, and really, it's its own game.
The game pointed me toward thinking more about narration, before I even started playing it. Narration is one of my favorite aspects about stories, and if you have a good narrator, you've basically sold me already. We watched Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy after I finished with The Stanley Parable, and my appreciation for narration was preserved and grown.
I also think that Douglas Adams isn't my favorite author anymore. Not that I'm letting the movie affect me too much over the books that he masterfully crafted. It's more that my appreciation for Terry Pratchett has surpassed my appreciation for Adams, and the comparing the content and ideas of Adams to that of Pratchett, I think I'm more fond of the still living of the two. That's not to say that I was not foundationally affected by Adams, 'cause I was, just that I'm growing more into Pratchett and away from Adams, even though they're so similar.
My own character, The Narrator, has seemed to come alive in me. He wrote a letter, which I'll edit and present to you.
I'm The Narrator. I come from a place known as The Orchard, but this is by no means my first visit to this fruit, or dimension, or world, or whatever you want to call this place thick with violence, plastic, telephone poles, dreams, and music. You also have an unusually large sum of mangos, which I am quite fond of. And whales! You have actual whales! Real, physical whales. Truly, a site unbeheld to behold...
Anyway, I've noticed that my host, J.C., has taken a month of writing off. Well, that's all well and good for his agenda, I'm sure, but it doesn't really work for me or mine. So, I have decided to take over. To possess him, if you will.
He can still postpone his writing of stories, as he has, but only in the strictest sense, where he doesn't sit down to write the stories. With a few simple exercises, I'm going to work on antiquating myself with him.
I know him well, don't get me wrong. I wouldn't choose just any person with two hands, though, really, that's all I need. I could even make due with one hand. I have before. But no, I've been nesting in the back of his silly mind since he began to 'think,' and I've guided him through a lot, though I'm sure he wouldn't give me much credit. He's known of me, but it's been more saber than conocer, if you know what I mean.
I'm going to be writing through him, he's going to get used to me, and, hopefully, in ten days we'll have this down. It's my understanding that he plans on writing an entire novel in a month. I have my doubts on that, but it will be a good exercise at the very least. Wish us Luck. We'll need him.
Lovingly, and with a preadatory craving for mangos,