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Knee Deep comes out on PS4 on Jan. 31 and XBox One on Feb. 3!

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We’ll bring the game to Oculus Rift and Steam VR in November!

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Lately I’ve been playing:

* Heroes of the Storm
* Fallout 4
* Star Trek Timelines (mobile)

[Brody]

The final act launches on Tuesday! WOO!

[Brody]

Knee Deep Act 2: Festival goes live today on Steam! One price gets you season ticket access to the first two acts of our swamp noir adventure, plus Act 3 when it launches in Spring 2016! http://store.steampowered.com/app/371300/

[Brody]

Back from a great showing of Knee Deep at EGX in Birmingham, UK, where I had the privilege of meeting the guy behind the character of Dement – the amusing James Crawford! We talked about Knee Deep for an upcoming video interview.

[Brody]

Can you land the SpaceX rocket? http://gizmodo.com/try-landing-the-spacex-falcon-9-yourself-with-this-flas-1731352484

[Brody]

Fly In The Soup

September 2650: The Red Eclipse Mercenaries meet with Yantos Gazz about the Lucky Knuckle contract.

Soup: A popular restaurant among the locals, this building tends to be busy most hours of the day and early night. The source of its unusually brief name becomes apparent within a few moments of entering- the place’s decor is striking enough, but attention invariably drifts to the tureens. A square bar rings the inside of the room, studded with twenty-six of those stainless steel pots inset into the lavender and violet-veiled marble. They simmer lowly with their contents, each holding a different variety of soup. The menu changes throughout the day, and though a few perennial favorites remain, also every few months. Black-tiled floors with violet grouting provide an even surface underfoot, matte black tables and chairs upholstered in cheery lavender scattered about in the space between bar and door. Wide windows provide an excellent view of Valsho Peak and the Antim Sea below, bathing the room in pleasant light during the day. The bright lavender walls are festooned with pictures of various Timonese celebrities who have visited, though none seem to be too famous- the restaurant’s prices and atmosphere geared towards common folk, despite the quality of the food. Double doors varnished black provide egress back onto Chance Road.

Gazz sits at his usual table in a corner of the restaurant with a window overlooking the ocean. His brow is furrowed; mouth drawn downward into a grimace as he stares into a swirling bowl of lavender soup. He dips a wide, flat-edged spoon into the liquid, then gives it a taste. Shrugs. Goes back to quietly frowning.

Jocaira saunters into the restaurant, looking it over with a moderate frown. She also shrugs, and casts about until she sees the casino boss at his usual table. There is one -more- cast over the clientele, to ensure that no one seems too out of place (other than them), then she signals to whomever is behind her and heads over his way. She is carrying a dataslate, a folder, and a keycard on a chain.

A bit behind comes flitting the Limping Moth. It’s just flitting along in its usual odd flight path. There’s no music today.

James Sterling stumps in behind Jocaira, exhaling a plume of smoke from his nostrils. “Soup,” he grunts absently, flicking ash from the end of a cigarette.

The casino boss catches sight of the newly arrived mercenaries. The frown deepens as they approach. “Here for your payment for Halffang, I presume.”

Jocaira shrugs one shoulder, and plunks down at the table. She pushes the datapad his way. “Footage of incident,” she says, then pushes over the folder. “Still photos and inventory list of possessions of se decease,” she says, then pushes over the keycard, unclipping the chain and offering the clip to Gazz. “Body, cold storage access card.” Her tongue darts briefly across her gold-backed canine tooth. “If case not solved to your satisfaction, you may give partial installment to cover our cost incurred in execution of
sis phase and we can continue.”

The Moth lands gently on the table near enough for the cameras to catch what’s going on.

Sterling sticks his cigarette in the corner of his mouth and folds his arms over his chest, but says nothing, remaining standing at the corner of the table nearest to Joca.

“Continue?” The Timonae’s frown vaporizes for a moment into a mordant laugh. “Halffang Whitestar was our only identified suspect. I was relying upon you to at least gather intel on his collaborators before his elimination. Unless he left a list of names in his shirt pocket, I think we’re effectively at a dead end.” He takes out his own PDA and taps on the display. “I will honor the arrangement, of course. Twenty-five thousand credits for dealing with the Demarian.”

Jocaira shrugs, touching her fingertips to her forehead in an informal salute. “As you wish, Monsieur. You are se client, we shall do as you desire. ‘is collaborators apparently would ‘ave rather seen ‘im dead sen allow us to ask ‘im even se one question.”

A brief and fairly quiet fanfare is played from the Moth’s speaker as the client suggests the money will still be paid.

“Yeah,” Sterling puts in, “corpses don’t wag their tongues much.” He pauses to uncross his arms and take a deep drag from his cigarette. He glances at the Moth at the sound of the fanfare and gives an annoyed snort.

Gazz absently picks up the PDA offered by Jocaira and peruses the footage in silence for a couple of minutes. Then, deadpan, but with widening eyes: “Maza’s lopsided nipples, who is the lunatic Demarian who decided to go worm riding in this fiasco?” He waves a hand. “Never mind.” He keeps watching. Finally gets to the part where the merc leader guns down Whitestar during the handoff. Gazz freezes the image on the merc, then pushes the pad back toward Jocaira. “Who is he? And who does he work for?”

Jocaira titters at the mention of ‘nipples’. “Se Demarian is a Monsieur Rasoirback Cliffwalkair, who is from some usser place and time and who is apparently willing to risk life and limb upon my be’alf. As for se dirty casual who shot my godsdamned mark, I only know ‘is name is Chet, and ‘e was willing to take a pay cut for losing se mark as opposed to fighting us over it. ‘is client was all done via anonymous transfer.”

The tiny ship remains silent for now.

Sterling grunts and rolls his eyes at the mention of the ‘lunatic Demarian’. “Fuckin’ glory hound. Yeah, they didn’t wanna fight us,” he tells Gazz. “They thought they’d take the easy way out, takin’ out Halffang so they got at least some pay, rather’n fight us ta keep ‘im.” He shrugs, rolling the cigarette between his fingers absently.

The Timonae tilts his head, the frown returning. “You saw the records of these anonymous transactions with your own eyes? Or he *asserted* that this was the case and you took him at his word, because why would one mercenary lie to another?” He chuckles darkly. “At least you got *his* name. He’s your next target. Hopefully, you’ll keep him alive long enough to get better intelligence on the architects of the Lucky Knuckle heist.”

“Oh sure, aftair I wanted to rip ‘is face off for shooting my mark, ‘e invited us inside to look over sere paperwork, and sen ‘e made me dinner and we ‘ad a bit of a -snog-,” Joca snarks, making a very sarcastic face, which only gets -more- sarcastic when the line about ‘hopefully keep him alive’ comes up. “…I am ‘onestly starting to sink sat I am se only person ‘ere who noticed se giant fucking sand monstair trying to eat us? Who wants to say ‘ow sey would ‘ave kept Monsieur Chet se colossal -deek’ead- from airing out se mark’s dome? Anybody at all? Who ‘as got se bettair idea?” She plants the fingertips of one hand on the table with sufficient force to whiten the tanned skin. “Now I can track sis boy down if sat is what you want, Monsieur, but if you are going to ride my ass about ‘alf-fang getting ‘imself capped se least you can do is pull my ‘air.”

The Moth quickly lifts off and darts a few inches to the side as those fingers come down on the table. Being that small probably makes one a bit paranoid.

Sterling sneers, thumping one hand down on the table and leaning toward Gazz. “You don’t like our work? Maybe you can find yerself another damn merc group willin’ ta chase down this bastard.” The hand lifts from the table and curls into a fist. “Or maybe you want yer clock cleaned right now!”

“Save the hair pulling for another time, I think,” the casino boss allows with a grim smile. He shrugs. “For now, such pleasures are not included in our contract.” He offers a cold grimace to Sterling after the threat. He slides his PDA aside, then says, “You have your assignment. Proceed.”

Jocaira titters again, traipsing along the fine line between anger and arousal. “Au revoir pour le moment, sen,” she says, making a brief circular motion in the air with the first two fingers of her right hand upraised together. “Hmm-mm, business is business, Monsieur Chet,” she muses, as she moves to saunter out.

The Limping Moth goes back into its normal semi-erratic flight pattern for the trip away from all the soups.

Sterling gives a guttural growl, pushing off the table and turning his back to the Timonae as he follows Jocaira out.

Gazz returns his attention to his lukewarm soup.

[Brody]

My most recent games have included:

* Witcher 3 (well made RPG)
* Rocket League (stupid fun)
* Ingress
* Words With Friends
* Family Guy mobile game

[Brody]

My viewing queue, besides a lot of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse (for some reason), now includes:

* Fear the Walking Dead (More like Loathe the Walking Dead)
* Wet Hot American Summer (absurdly amusing)

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Z

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Y

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X

[Brody]

Whitestar, Halffang: Former quartermaster aboard the Ungstiri transport Implacable, suspected of blast that killed three crew. Conspirator in Lucky Knuckle Casino heist on Antimone in 2650.

[Brody]

Feel free to post any suggested additions to the categories in this thread!

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