Sure thing. Here’s a reimagined version of your article:
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You ever find yourself with too many hats to wear? That’s kind of my life story. I’m juggling a full-time gig and, oh yeah, parenting two tiny humans. One of which, by the way, decided to make a grand entrance right smack in the middle of—guess what?—developing a whole video game. Yep, The Abandoned Planet was born—or maybe brewed—in this tiny corner of my Florida bedroom. It’s not some sprawling office space; we’re talking nursery-meets-office-meets-chaos-central. Picture this: my trusty Moleskine squished onto a desk that could politely be called “quaint,” pages filled with doodles of rooms and confusing arrow paths, all mapped out by hand. And occasionally, my toddler would crawl over and “edit” my work. Artistic inspiration, right?
Anyway, so I dive headfirst into this passion whirlpool thinking, “One year, tops!” Flash-forward two and a half years later, and I’m still knee-deep in code, sketches, and music notes. There’s this semi-functional base-7 number system—kinda funky, I know—and some alien alphabet that pepper the game’s journals. It wasn’t really the original plan, but plans are overrated.
Every pixel in this game? Hand-drawn on my Wacom. I poured over details like someone examining every last sprinkle on a donut. The soundscape? Let’s just say it’s got this creepy charm, like the soundtrack for a retro sci-fi movie you’d discover on a VHS tape. Moving through the game world is basically like a nostalgia trip back to the 90s—good old four-way D-Pad navigation, but with a modern twist that makes you feel all snappy.
Then there’s the art—oh, the art. Pixelated but in a way that doesn’t scream “I’ve been stuck in the past.” Nah, it’s luxurious pixelated. And these cryptic glyphs you gotta decode? Those were probably dreamt up during those rare nights when the kids actually slept through.
The game’s kind of a love letter to 90s adventure games, but with, like, a sleek high-def interface. You get to poke around, pick up weird objects, and awaken ancient totems like you’re some kind of high-tech archaeologist. There’s this expansive world—300 unique spots to lose yourself in. And the cutscenes? Short but sweet, just enough to tickle your narrative senses.
While The Abandoned Planet stands on its own two feet, it’s quietly whispering about a bigger story—more adventures with Dexter Stardust. Honestly, every quirky puzzle and strange alien icon probably has roots back to my little bedroom-office-nursery, where chaos breeds creativity.
So, if you’re feeling the call of the cosmos and want to dive into an adventure that’s as much about the journey of making it as about the game itself, take a plunge into The Abandoned Planet. Who knows, you might find a little piece of my two-year passion project calling to you.
