Fucked

If James Lipton interviewed game creators, he'd have Edmund McMillen sit across the table, then state with breathless, definitive poise: "And then you did Clubby The Seal."

This is the work of a deranged, austere soul: a badland vista, a range of horrible, mutant creatures, an alien fetus, a living ball of tar. Compiled together, you have more carcinogens and tasty flavor additives than an industrial cigarette. He's a brimming, creative LED, burning efficiently but also with a sickly, radioactive aura, his distortions splurging as if through a spigot.

The first project listed in the collection is Gish, which many saw upon first release as a benchmark of quality in the then young "indie" segment. Collaborating with a programmer buddy, McMillen carved the distinct character designs and aesthetic of the bizarre, tar-tastic roll-scape. The results marked a major milestone in his career.

Over only a few years, McMillen has been involved with the creation of 11 more games, mostly short-form casual/art/warped jaunts into a rapid imagination. His web comic, The Outlands, paints the setting from which five of these titles are mined. Each one puts you in the role of a different mutant species existing in the fraid desert. A Cactus that kills not for food, but for sport; an in vitro glob of flesh called a "dumpling"; a skull-toothed brain parasite; a wispy, wailing whelp. What's most striking is that these are not merely cosmetic explorations, each game is its own. While Host and Peashy are typical 2d, spatially-oriented, collision-em-ups, the Whelting and Dumpling games are pretty fresh dynamics, like Diner Dash meets Rosemary's Baby meets Mr. Rogers meets Planescape: Torment. Why not?

His most intriguing works, however, are his latest.

When Coil was released, the Jay Is Games mailing list was buzzing with discussion. Many of us wanted to praise it, with some claiming to "get" it, and others enjoying the vague mystique. One woman called it "totally offensive shit". Coil is an "art game" more firmly than his other work, by far, having you play mini-games, without instruction, that mark periods of a pregnancy. Thematically, it's a more somber look at gestation as a game arc, originally played out in Viviparous Dumpling. Its text leaves implications of a rape victim coming to terms with her condition... or does it? The meaning, like the gameplay, is largely open to inference.

His most recent title was Twin Hobo Rocket, a phallic-themed game where you and your hobo friend sit at the base of a rocket, trying to hit up aliens for change. Hilarious bits of speech annotate this hallucinated fund-raiser. It's a nice yo-yo back from the avant-garde ineffability of Coil.

The compilation site is hosting Windows-only, .exe builds of these titles. However, with an easy bit of Googling, you can play the Flash builds in your browser. I asked McMillen if he wouldn't compile and host .swf files, but he declined. I guess he's pretty much giving the finger to all non-Windows people. That's ok, he's a fucking genius.

Mark Johns considers this his best work. There's a reason for that. Standard Bits is pure. It's the first kiss under the desk in Kindergarten. It's jumping off a fifty-foot cliff into a river while blown. It's an attempted assassination of Ronald Reagan. It's the subtle, asexual infatuation you had with The Secret Of Mana's level designs when you were four.

Take the protagonist, with related verbs, of every major 80s hit, along with the enemies, the art assets, and the midi signature. Put them on separate, concentric roulettes, and spin. Spin every few seconds. Try to win.

You'll find yourself meta-gaming, you know that as the Defender jet, you can merc those rainbow cascade things pretty well, but in the process of getting over there, there is a good chance they'll turn into goombas, and you'll get hit. Or maybe you'll hesitate, as Link, to walk up that hallway, because you could become the Space Invaders turret, unable to move vertically, and get caught by pursuing Gauntlet ghosts. It's clever, because this is no mere mash, but a full blooded remix, where added depth emerges from the recombinations.

Your default platformer stance is beset by a floating white head who comes off like some kind of pranic demon. He tells you not to proceed, which in the language of level design means, "come further, you don't really have a choice". This is the kind of catch-22 that, all too common in life, seems utterly absent in games - no matter what prickly situation your protagonist finds (usually) himself in, there's always a neat puzzle solution or flow path to get out of it. Not this time.

(It's highly advised to play the game before reading this article)

All right, let's be honest. The La La Land games do not make much sense. But that's what makes them so much fun.

This time, Biggt starts off being confronted with a heavily-pixelated large sprite that proclaims "ia m a poor fishhead in need of money. it's okay to steal from the rich cos they have lots to spare!" And thus, you travel through the rich people's home and take from a pile of gold, handful by handful, until the fish-head has enough to buy a necklace. Meanwhile, a song dedicated to the beautiful people of earth looms over Biggt’s deeds (with lyrics that go: “an ecology song that is for hearts that care, protect, conserve, love and share”). Upon returning to the rich, who are now dead, the game rhetorically asks "without money how were the nobles to survive?".

La La Land is a series of surrealist platformers by TheAnemic, and La La Land 5 is probably the clearest expression in a series that was probably never meant to be clear. You play Biggt, who now looks like the bat-boy dressing up as David Lynch; you run around with the left and right, up to jump, and down to throw bibles. You see, you're a Bible Salesman(tm) and you're out hustling your wares on pink fish that go to sleep when you toss them long-bound tomes like axes from Castlevania. Did I mention how fucking genuis this is?

Go play it now, then come back and reflect with me. (Spoilers after the break.)