This month’s piece is a fairly straightforward sonified diary. Each letter you type triggers a note (and a wandering pen that draws until it hits something). What you type is recorded, so if you leave it on after you’ve finished today’s entry it’ll replay your last 7 entries. Each entry is its own song based on what you wrote.
Not much to say about this one :\
Download tell me about your day
Controls: escape: quit; letter keys: write about your day
The Rules:
The file at this link will be deleted 1 month from now (01/02/20).
All downloads are zipfiles containing a Windows executable.
All source code and assets are included, licensed under the GPL (code) and CC-BYSA (assets).
As long as you abide by those licenses, you can do whatever you want with the download.
Further Reading
Neil Kulkarni was always the best writer of the UK music weeklies during that brief teenage period when I followed them religiously . This recent piece starts out almost as a conventional gig review before you realise 1.) that’s not what it is at all, and 2.) why he’s writing it, why he needed to write it.
Have you ever caught sight of something – just the tiniest glimpse – and found yourself completely disarmed by the possibilities it suggests? I had one of those moments with this 4 second video Marie Flanagan tweeted last month. The thought of a videogame where the controller is another person’s hand is wild.
I fell down an SCP rabbit hole this month. The various linked storylines in the Antimemetics hub are some top quality speculative fiction.
Nathalie Lawhead put together a big post about small-scale walking sims. I’ve played embarrassingly few of the games on this list, so I’m going to try and work my way through most of them over the next few months.
What with the Australian inferno and the impending US war with Iran it already feels like a lifetime ago, but the UK election result was pretty much the worst possible outcome I could have imagined. In case you’ve been fighting the same despair as me, here’s some of the things I’ve been clinging to this month:
Hurray for the Riff Raff: Pa’lante
I’ve linked it before, but Ada Limón’s The Leash seems particularly apposite right now.
Ursula Le Guin’s widely-quoted National Book Awards speech.
And a book that I repeatedly come back to in moments like this, Rebecca Solnit’s Hope in the Dark:
“I say all this because hope is not like a lottery ticket that you can sit on the sofa and clutch, feeling lucky. I say it because hope is an ax you break down doors with in an emergency; because hope should shove you out the door, because it will take everything you have to steer the future away from endless war, from the annihilation of the earth’s treasures and the grinding down of the poor and marginal. Hope just means another world might be possible, not promised, not guaranteed. Hope calls for action; action is impossible without hope.”
By the time you’re reading this it’ll be a new decade, and it looks like it’s going to be a hard one. So take care, don’t die, be brave when you’re able, be kind always. And hold on as best you can. There’s a lot of stormclouds on the horizon.