The Witness
Every so often, the art escapes containment.
Most of us experience it quietly. A song gets stuck in our head. A lyric follows us to work. A phrase appears in a notebook, then another. We make a playlist. We write a paragraph, or a poem. We create something small and leave it at that.
But sometimes the thing refuses to stay small.
Sometimes it expands. It demands more attention. More thought. More labor. More of you.
And eventually the work begins to overflow.
A drawing becomes a portfolio.
A theory becomes an archive.
A song becomes a game.
At first it feels like a choice. Then, somewhere along the way, it stops feeling like one. It begins to feel like compulsion. The work wants somewhere to go. The ideas want somewhere to live. And eventually they become large enough that they begin attracting other people carrying the same burden.
Community is often described as something we build. I am increasingly convinced it is something we discover. A consequence of enough people responding honestly to the same source. Not because they were trying to find each other. But because they were trying to answer the same call.
Et Arcadia Ego is one such answer.
ᛑᛗᛛ ChroosKloos ᛑᛗᛛ, a furniture restorer, looked at Even In Arcadia and somehow arrived at the conclusion:
"What if I learned how to build a game?"
A completely reasonable response, obviously.
The same way one might look at a beautiful painting and think:
"What if I spent several years constructing a recursive archive containing thousands of words, interconnected frameworks, symbolic motifs, and at least one hidden page that caused the Scholar to file formal complaints?"
Creation is a mysterious disease.
The symptoms vary, but the underlying condition appears identical.
What struck me wasn't the game itself. Though the game is impressive.
What struck me was the conversation.
The immediate recognition.
The realization that we were responding to the same thing.
Later, he told me he restores vintage furniture for a living.
Not a programmer. Not a game developer.
Just another person who found themselves staring at their own hands wondering what to do with whatever this thing was demanding of them.
"I needed to create," he said.
And suddenly the game made perfect sense. Not because it was inevitable. Because it wasn't. Because neither of us began with all of the skills required for the things we eventually made.
The archive didn't exist because I set out to build an archive.
The game didn't exist because he set out to become a developer.
The work came first.
The skills arrived later.
Not merely a fan project.
Not merely a game.
One more vessel for the thing that refused to stay still
And then there is no real decision to make.
The thing is already happening.
Et Arcadia Ego is what that process looks like when it takes the form of a game.
"I hope this is real" one commenter said.
It's real. It's so real.
I am lucky enough to have been given Alpha access to the game and I can tell you it is going to be pretty freaking awesome when its complete.
So far there are 3 maps and 8 characters in the game. Everything is appropriately on theme, the music is stellar, and the game is legitimately fun. I am profoundly bad at it right now, but it doesn't even phase me, because it's so fun to play.
The controls are minimal, and honestly it feels like a great entry point for those who are not well versed in playing video games. You simply navigate with WASD and the game auto attacks when you're in range.
The crabs have successfully kicked my ass every time I play, but the 8 bit-synthwave sounds of Sleep Token are enough to make me continue, since each time I respawn I get a new song to bop along with.
Which, now that I think about it, is probably the most Even In Arcadia experience imaginable.
For updates on the game and it's development be sure to follow ᛑᛗᛛ ChroosKloos ᛑᛗᛛ on TikTok, and I will do my best to post updates as I run across them.