WRITING // LILAC ROSE

A paper I wrote trying to figure out why Umamusume works as well as it does considering the premise is literally just horse girls. It really does work though, and a big part of that is how much care goes into each character's individual arc.

I looked at how the episodic structure keeps stakes high without feeling repetitive, how the relationships between characters carry as much weight as the actual races, and how the game quietly redefines what "winning" means over time. Ended up being one of the more interesting things I've written for class.

A reflection I wrote on how Edith Finch actually uses its environments. My argument was that the narration does most of the work and the objects around you are more like quiet confirmation than the actual story delivery mechanism. The train tunnel sequence is the standout example: no dialogue, just audio and space, and it lands perfectly.

I also wrote about how each family member gets their own tonal register, ranging from depressive to adventurous to outright horror, and how that variety is doing structural work. This is one of those games that originally got me interested in stories that don't default to happy endings.

An original interactive narrative set on Izu-Oshima, a volcanic island in Tokyo prefecture that I've actually visited. Heavily inspired by vivid/stasis. You play as Dawn, searching for her missing sister Tsuki in a world that's visibly falling apart: faces that glitch, landmarks that disappear, reality that doesn't quite hold together anymore.

The world runs on a layered simulation structure, and Dawn and Tsuki are "leaks" from another universe pulled through a rift. Players exist at Layer 4, interacting with Layer 0 through an entity called [THE OPERATOR]. Giving up on finding Tsuki is a real and permanent branch in the story, not a fail state.

Dawn's arc is "man in a hole" with a Cinderella emotional structure. Every setback redefines what she's willing to push through. The Man in the Gray Coat is her foil, tied to something bigger than she understands yet.

Three young skunks steal food in the night and immediately start arguing about whether to eat it or use it to build a secret civilization away from the adults. There's a cover-up, an accusation, and a death that turns out to be a prank. It's somewhere between a children's moral tale and complete absurdism, and I'm not sure which direction it falls.

Detailed feedback I wrote for a peer's interactive fiction piece. I covered typos and continuity first, then got into the stuff I actually wanted to talk about: the character voice is really strong, the in-universe jargon builds curiosity without being opaque, and the branches actually change things in meaningful ways. Also noted which routes felt unfinished without being harsh about it.

The "evil protag" reveal midway through was a standout moment and I said so. Morally complicated protagonists are kind of my thing.