Summer, Day 15. My crops thrive, every leaf and vine coaxed into dancing with the breeze. The blueberries, tomatoes, and melons are teaching me grace. At dawn, the dew glistens. All day I listen to the carpenter, her hammer chants an old rhythm called “Creation.”
They belly-crawled to avoid the lightning, and when the gap between rumbles and flashes quickened, they curled up on their packs. Sand stuck in the dry cracks at the corners of their lips.
Maybe all children stop growing up at some point, and then start up again. Like a plant hibernating in the cold.
Giving someone a Void Egg on their birthday will never
make your spouse jealous. Void Eggs can now be used
to make Void Mayonnaise.
I’ve played close to 300 hours of Stardew, and it’s because it makes me feel peaceful, cheerful, satisfied. It’s like deeply breathing. There is something serene about the soundscape, the way it feels when a day begins with rain, or you crack open a geode, or wrestle with a difficult fish.
We think video games are literature, and so why shouldn't there be literature about video games? That's the question we're hoping to answer here. Read more.
