Edzio K.

@demiurge

Angularity and reactivity. Immersive Sim. Project Anarres developer. Internationalist. Anarchist. He / Him.

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Edzio K.@demiurge· 28d

Auric light catches glittering on the downpour. A city of concrete and glass forms, fortresses and ziggurats.

A communion of soldiers and spider tanks, as though a rest after prayer in a garden of sakura. The red armour globular as if it must withstand fathoms of ocean pressure.

Distress or agony is plain on the man screaming through a digital-neural light. A woman, alike in this paraphysical abyss, turns in alarm.

All that was ever known by a bureaucrat is ejected in a viscous pixelated mass, the colour of fresh blood in which neurons red-shift out of colocation.

Edzio K.@demiurge· 29d

The Ghost in the Shell (2026). Despite my sensibilities being more aligned to Oshii's adaptation over Shirow's original manga I'm completely taken by the vibrant and beautiful kineticism of this revival. Worth seeing simply for the gorgeous visual design on display. 📽️

Through the pane of golden hexagons like a hive, the city upon them, a thermal optic encompasses three figures seated. Their lives perceptible on a temperature gradient.

The cold ground is a void against the receding atomic orange wavelength contouring over every stalk and rock. Three crosses of different red saturation dwell in the black earth.

The sky and all the world is red in the instant before the bullet trajectory completes its path in the riverbed behind the soldier clad in metal plate bulbous beyond that of a medieval knight. He stands athwart this firing solution.

Figures unalike in dress have assembled in a meeting room and a video exchange is itself recorded perpendicular by the narrow eye-lens curving all within frame. The harsh florescent tubes and illuminated desk flare into copies of themselves.

Edzio K.@demiurge· Jul 14

Small details amaze for how thoughtful they are — buying a blank parchment from a cartographer is expensive for each is a map that will not be made and beneath the barrier there are no paper mills. The sea by this one-way death wall boils from the electrical discharge on fish, krill and algae.

Shipwrecks by the jagged rocks of a coast painted a pale fire's hue in the sunset emberous behind cloud and mountains. A figure stands in watch of this vista and into the sea curves a violent electricity that covers the sky without provenance in logic, tumulting the water at its union.

The mangrove trees all but eclipse the sun but for the archipelagoes of light that dapple the mongrel architecture of this settlement, halving and quartering the trunks into circumferences of homes and shops. Bridges connect the high walk between trees, the cane reinforcing planks recalling exposed bones.

Edzio K.@demiurge· Jul 13

Burn After Reading (2008). Every actor delivers arguably their finest comedic acting here in the middle of what I consider the Coens' existential trilogy — the sudden intrusion of violence, lives ended by chance, the limits of knowledge, illusions coming to nothing; incredibly funny! 📽️

In a gray, windowless room, a man's face is apoplexy. His arms aggressively plane insisting on symmetry to a crucifixion. His clothes are a fine three-piece suit and bow tie.

The light of an acetylene welder flares metallic blue over the garage. Metal is being conjoined to a new purpose.

A photograph whose paper edges have become softly furred with time. In the middle creased with remembrance; a middle aged man garbed in the black clerical clothes of the Greek Orthodox.

A man with a puzzled expression at the kitchen counter — as if having heard a tactless thing or an insult ventured. Wounded to a degree of contempt, he's paused in the cutting of a carrot where already a mound has overwhelmed a cutting board, the counter entire.

Edzio K.@demiurge· Jul 10

Passion (2012). Wanted to find an underrated giallo here but the film's brilliance appears and departs in a five minute split-frame sequence midway. Would that it were more smutty, confronting, schlocky, violent or ambitious but as it stands it's lesser De Palma. It could've been so much more. 📽️

Split is the frame between a couple of evident wealth, whose mutual embrace in the light of building's purlieu is casually intimate this night and the intense stare of a woman scarcely contained and the reflection coursing down her dark iris, a stiletto.

Eyes whose black center is as if those of a doll befitting the white mask from which they stare, a facsimile of a face whose red lips are near same in hue to the blood ejected with arterial force on this facade.

Edzio K.@demiurge· Jul 6

It's frankly atrocious to play on a modern system or with modern expectations and yet there's such an exotic and particular verisimilitude? I still yearn to experience it in full though I hear like many Quantic Dream games it careens into a ditch after an intriguing opening. Tragic.

Esoteric is the very make of the tablet, buttons with ambiguous symbols and decorative forms that haven't been effaced through market efficiency. A trio of news stories. Of food rationing and the rationalization of emotive states into policy targets and of a match result; the defeated team's coach arrested for their failure.

Edzio K.@demiurge· Jul 6

The Nomad Soul (1999). This has the greatest disparity between the naive sense of potential here and small shit, you know, like technical base, core gameplay, mechanics, dialogue writing and storytelling. Yet it's a testament to vibes with an inimitable alien world and a David Bowie soundtrack.

The metal of the buildings is something unknowable, like oxidized steel or the surface of an iron planet. Contra the sky of soft cloud gradients and a vessel that floats congruent to the street below. A figure in clothing recognisably a uniform for its patterning, marches into the road.

The room that surrounds the two figures embraced is an assemblage of earthen hues and forms that try to evoke the matrimonium of nature and its primeval subject against a technological zenith of mass surveillance and the conquest of gravity. There is a couch recess, a crater of leather upholstery in the room's center, not aberrant but morally suspect.

Edzio K.@demiurge· Jul 2

Ambushes, fist fights, robbery and battle doesn't necessitate combat until one party reaches 0HP and death is certain. Usually you'll be knocked down and some items are taken. Executing a prone enemy feels far more situational and consequential than the thousands of bandits slain in other RPGs.

Fresh is the explosion of red blood across the sand of the arena. Vivid like sapphire next to the dull brown of an older spilling. A man of sinew and muscle observes these tells of fighting from a wooden deck for an audience.

Edzio K.@demiurge· Jul 2

There are design solutions to issues manifest in the genre over the next quarter-century. It's an anti-Skyrim. One can blunder into danger, wildly overmatched, and it makes the world feel more real, less player-centric. Unlike where all is purposed to be engaged with at any level, fungible.

A cannula through the geology of the earth lit soft and gray by damp heavens glimpsed where the ground fell away to this deeper absence over which vines and roots sag.

Edzio K.@demiurge· Jul 2

Gothic Remake (2026). I love how cruel and abject the world is here. Where initially killing all but the lowliest animal is an achievement. Yet it's also surprisingly beautiful and pulls one back in to try to improvise some asymmetry against the many adversities faced.

Beyond the valley from whose salient rises a stone tower hemmed by a citadel and then a settlement, the vast granite vault of a mountain mantled by snow at the freezing height of its rise. Before the summit, tidal waves of electricity circumference this and all proximate to a watcher in shadow.

Crashing salt waves and ocean winds have scalloped the rocks by the cliff into jagged grotesques. A figure armed in their attire swims desperate through the towing waters.

A false light cast by one's hand. A reprieve while seated on a woven mat of reeds with the mouthpiece of a hookah in hand and the serenity of a face exhaling into the darkness beyond.

Mountains of mist. A vast topology of verdure and darkness broken by a slate coloured river coursing between the vast canopies of the forest near.

Edzio K.@demiurge· Jun 29

Can't stop thinking about it.

The river's surface is the sun and sky enveloping a young woman whose hands and head float serene upon the water.

All in the celebration have their view elsewhere in mirth and distraction but for a young woman center whose very face and vantage is set upon their fist, unalike and resolute.

The light of the city made soft amid limestone buildings is contrapuntal to the dark bearing and clothes of a lone man ashing a cigarette before his bare furniture.

On a concrete bench beside a country road, a couple sits together. Darknesses crater their eyes with a sorrow that is present despite this reprieve, this freedom from speculation. The hour tilts towards evening and tall grasses sway in the caress of wind.

Edzio K.@demiurge· Jun 26

Thank you for making me feel less alone.

The results of a very badly constructed online poll quiz though I don't chafe greatly at its conclusion.

Edzio K.@demiurge· Jun 26

Cold War (2018). Seeing another Pawlikowski has illuminated some of the invisible choices of Ida (2013) and the particular genius evinced here. My fullest recommendation. My word. 📽️

But for a black hill of trees distinct in the snow of night, the landscape and the sky have conjoined into optical democracy. The twin headlamps of a truck advance across this waste.

Identical in their costume of folk dress, a mixed choir tense on some consonant as rising behind them is a painted sheet whose curve is the sagging flesh of a Tsar without a kingdom.

An abstraction of merged spaces, the black soundproofing of a recording studio. A singer with dark eyes; sorrowful as if recalling a pain from her life inseparable from all others.

An unshaven man stares at some unseen apartment in a street where all are alike by the design of an official a century prior. Limestone and iron.

Edzio K.@demiurge· Jun 22

A little preview.

"The sky above the port was the colour of television, tuned to a dead channel." A transportation interior.

Edzio K.@demiurge· Jun 21

From the demo of Divine Frequency (2026). One of the great surprises of the season. Overessentializing: a cosmic-horror System Shock. Uncommonly Impactful combat, sophisticated RPG systems and a sentient lantern that decided to explore on its own leaving me in darkness. Shot up my anticipated list.

A communion of eyes ripped from bodies unseen. The world around us and the shotgun meagre amid this display is a lake polluted with blood.

Adjacent buildings seen out an apartment window. A green wallpaper and wooden furniture suggest a prior decade, a well-appointed mundanity progressively overscanned by a magnetic tape's tracking error.

One's flesh remains emberous. Leather gloves and straps scarcely hide hands deeply burned. They reload a handgun on the threshold of analogy to several models. This before a terminal console in an abject room.

A symphony of eyes in grotesque the darkness. Beyond the redness of our fading life. GAME OVER.

Edzio K.@demiurge· Jun 17

From the demo of SPRAWL Zero (2026). Many developers have tried to replicate the visual and kineaesthetic precision of Source engine games on Unreal but this actually succeeds.

A city of eroding concrete and retrofitted ducts. Endless and pullulating without distinction nor schema save for a central tower that rises above all else into the heavens themselves.

In a room of brutal concrete, a shrine that recalls an Orthodox crucifix but for an unblinking eye. Perpendicular is a figure in interlaced light, ensconced in armor more of a tank than human.

Near the foundation of decaying apartment blocks. Armed. Twenty-six rounds remaining. Observing the flight of a hostile VTOL craft.

In the narrow streets between phalanxes of architecture coloured with the hue of a corroded sun.

Edzio K.@demiurge· Jun 15

Torment.

Numerical anguish. Approaching five hundred layers across sixty-two groups on a piece I'm not half way on.

Edzio K.@demiurge· Jun 8

From the demo of About Fishing (2026). Long I've wished for a game that would take some occupation or activity simulator — trucking or chess, say — and surround it with an entire person's history of being. Here there's also a surreal mystery thriller. It's one of the best demos I've played.

Radiant falls a white sky on the steepled roof of a church ensconced among high cedar trees by an emerald river. This vantage is seen by a young woman in a short raincoat of yellow plastic across whose shoulder sags a fishing rod.

An older man with a grandfatherly bearing sits by a sodden shore. A cigarette in his cragged face. In baseball cap and polo shirt — a fisherman's clothing. Through mere seams of eyes he asks, "What's her name?"

In a yellow raincoat a woman stands in a lobby suffused with an ethereal turquoise across hardwood boards that solely comprise the architecture. On a small bench a child. She in dress identical.

Wrapped in plastic, the serene face of a corpse with a countenance devoid of speculation. She rests amid the ribbon weeds and above is a small yellow fish at the end of a nylon line.

Edzio K.@demiurge· Jun 3

Against a cataract sky are the bare limbs of black trees. Pale is the meagre sun weak in its heaven. Idling before its coldness is a white car in concrete lot that scarcely exists.

A novitiate and an older woman whose headscarf against the cold grants semblance to the one faithful step through a forest. Warily. The naked trees and their branches like anti-infantry emplacements and barbed wire.

Her countenance resting in her palm. Her gaze at nothing before her. In the window behind her people dance in the reflection adumbrated.

In the light of a medical institution or hospital a woman of middle age wears a vast sorrow. A column of the building unfocused obscures a third of her as if something was lesser of her now.

Edzio K.@demiurge· Jun 3

Ida (2013). This is one of those rare films whose every shot is a triumph of photography. Despite its brevity, there's a universe of tragedy here about which I spoke to my father regarding the duty of memory in Poland — the horrendous crimes, the unforgivable collaborations. A masterpiece. 📽️

Tears melt down the serene countenance of a young nun among those in darker cloth who've vowed their lives to sacrifice. Scarcely framed are these tears against the unadorned stone of the convent walls.

Snow found little purchase in the curve of the crater in which several novitiates have raised a statue of Christ. All with their eyes upturned.

The young novitiate in her gray garb and veil walks downcast past buildings whose exterior resembles burnt wax. Nearby a solitary bicycle, the only indicator of occupancy.

A man of middle in an earthen cell. The walls of black soil rise close and irregular around his kneeling form and in his blackened hands he clutches cloth saturated with the same. His face is nothing but abject shame with his eyes invisible but to stare at that which was beneath him.

Edzio K.@demiurge· Jun 1

Days later I can't stop thinking about the game — the metatext that saturates everything including the title, the cosmology and the strata of manipulation whose layers are everything from spycraft to the whims of distant stars. What facades did I fall for and what did I miss?

The grand mosaic of a city's backways — chipped terracotta, high-contrast graffiti curves, stones cobbled and flag in uneven steps beneath the graceful parallel arcs of power cables; dozens of windows see out across this mongrel architecture and impenetrable from where a figure stands.

Inestimable offerings brought by those seeking kindness from the star Polaris. Incense and beer bottles and coins and photographs fading into paper. And yet all is left offered at the shrine before the standing woman. "I came back, Polaris."

A distortion across the cosmos and yet its provenance is silent. Resolvable is a radiance and many hands whose fingers are steepled as if supine for alms.

A mind entire in typewritten manuscript. Ambitious. Meticulous. Mad. Annotated and unpolished and we read its epigraph —

"This is the thing we built while the true visionaries were kicking around the future."

Chairman Kivi to the Enkutt National Party Congress, seconds before committing suicide by gunshot, Year 58.

Edzio K.@demiurge· May 28

I'll say it's rewarding on a pure genre level from the tension of how much one will trust numerous shady figures to chasing mysteries to their ends. And not unlike Disco, there's some thematic onboarding with so many in-game texts as direct mises en abyme. Do feel you on the whole clusterfuck.

From a communal library, what is ostensibly a pulp genre work is an exploration of the Treffe school of psychoanalysis. The cover has been hand painted by its donator.

Edzio K.@demiurge· May 27

One of my favourite encounters of any game is the Metal Stripper. A destitute woman for whom one feels sympathy tending towards pity as what follows is a disturbing unspooling of a life that can't be now thought absurd. The crescendo is something of total magic and horror. My jaw dropped.

Yet jutting into a iron coloured sea, a pier mutilated by every element. Every unpainted speck has oxidized into the colour of old blood.

Edzio K.@demiurge· May 27

There's so much here of Pynchon and Deleuze and post-Marxism. Is the very name of the Opera winking at Italian Operaismo? It's incredible how vast a terrain is covered about the production of culture and desire, implicating the fundamental authenticity of will and the game, as a production, itself.

Geometries of a quiet street intersection with no material homogeneous. Verdure pushes out from broken concrete and the confines of planters. Lamps and cables sag gently overhead.

Cabling of no beginning and end. Insulated and retrofitted and rerouted and surpassed with concave receivers redundant and eccentric in their bearing. Surely to some locus of control. Where could it be? The homunculus is the obvious suspect discussed. But he is a scapegoat for more proximate and incontestable distortions — say a tumor depressing the frontal lobe. There may be a solution.

Beyond the rooftop a city has fallen into a pullulating haze of light. Fuchsia bulbs are strung around the edge. The tungsten of a few having burned into nothingness. The moon will be without end. "How many moons like this do I have left?"

I must say also, a wonderful allusion to the end of The Sheltering Sky (1949)? There's such a beautiful notion to harness here with the cosmology of the game and the influence of the stars but I've already said too much!

One of a number of cards, this in focus. A bomber from the mid-century — aluminum pieces of mongrel dimension riveted into a smooth fuselage. Its flight path smearing over a terrified woman's face tattooed with ruin.

Edzio K.@demiurge· May 27

ZERO PARADES: For Dead Spies (2026). Had the same melancholy I felt toward the end of its predecessor when a game of rare brilliance approaches its curtain call. Fashioned from some of the finest writing and artistry in the medium.

At high altitude a museum of opulence rent asunder. Fine curtains of a metallurgical orange two storeys high melt torn over marble tiles. Cleaners work in sealed plastics that hermetically separate them from this place. Excess was had everywhere.

Every form and line of the bridge has been fatigued out of straightness. Rain has leveled the depressions and chance reflects burning photons of a towering billboard of light. Perfect and immaterial. Ultra Violeta.

In their crow's nest on the curling trusses and vast steel plackarts of an abandoned missile silo, two figures tranquil. Un and Deux. As Rosencrantz & Guildenstern before them they muse upon an edge case of probability.

Outside the small islands of incandescence the departing sun imbues a violet hue to shadows near a previous decade's theatre — ornate and wrought for here and not elsewhere. Standing proximate upon the thin stairs to a tramway is a raincloaked figure.

Edzio K.@demiurge· May 21

Hah, you know it.

A hideous creature whose very garb is grotesque speaking atrocity in his horrible voice. At least he does so in a total abyss lest other forms be equally unsightly. Why cannot I simply kill him? For he would relish it so.

Edzio K.@demiurge· May 21

Too much that can be celebrated but I feel the level design is underdiscussed. Areas recall immersive sim spaces — alternate entrances, verticality, breakable walls, hidden floors, encounters that can be circumnavigated, natural intrusions and perimeters flow back to the architected. Incredible.

An eclectic party stands before a great rupture through an ornate structure — a monastery painted in the golden light of morning. Across its roof are the overgrown roots of a tree, a leviathan consuming the building.

A tower whose exterior is a labyrinth of copper pipes. Recalling more veins extruded from flesh, there is perhaps some schema or instrumental reason for their placement.

Edzio K.@demiurge· May 21

Baldur's Gate III (2023). Had the urge to pick up from a second playthrough commenced years ago and it remains a game that I can't believe exists. The intricate density of the world where each combat encounter feels bespoke and resolvable in myriad ways over a hundred-and-fifty hours is absurd.

In fading morning the mountains are painted by a pale auric light. Opposite this horizon of serrated vaults that grace the clouds is a figure chimerical. With silver scale and horns that curve anarchic and distancing like spears and scimitars lodged in a palisade, their garb is finely embroidered as if a testament to the weave of magic inhered.

Four of a party disparate in all manner but their lot and present bearing stand athwart a sloping ridge to survey the chasm in its topographical pandemonium. Distant and near are the brilliance of luminous fungi and flora unknown to the sun facing world.

The fortress tower rises into little more than an abyss as though its foundation was recalled from memory but in height from a viewer has become speculative and mere form in mist and darkness. And through this shadow even light from its obverse windows is dim and spectral.

Sorcerer and dragonblooded, they stand impervious to the threats made and all at hazard. This divergence opens before them. Nere speaks, "If they are indeed a True Soul, let the Absolute save them."

Forthcoming is the response of a Dragonborn.

"This battle will make a good story. Come, then."

Edzio K.@demiurge· May 15

Some recent level design and asset work in progress. #GameDev

Sandstone and granite cut at vast angles that traverse the high walls of this atrium whose sky is a false sky of white fluorescence. Its soft gradient pours down these immensities, across the pink leaves of sakura trees whose dark trunks branches curve gracefully from the meticulously hemmed earth.

35cm of dense polymer and steel. The impenetrable door has the words in majuscule — SECURE THRESHOLD. Adjacent is a scanner tilted towards an absent user at eye-height.

A close detail of the door, its innards a scratched alloy that at five points equidistant are light sensors of conspicuous green.

A microcosm of a rolling landscape as the impact area of a firing range. The concrete of the walls is curiously angled and scarred by ricocheting exotic rounds.

Edzio K.@demiurge· May 11

There's too many pieces to praise and all truly enrich the whole. Allusions and allegory draw into dialogue the Crucifixion and Mao's Cultural Revolution, asides like school ostracization and language-as-technology find their resemblance in other contexts. It's all so ambitious and beautiful.