Edzio K.
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demiurge.bsky.social
Edzio K.
@demiurge.bsky.social
480 followers 720 following 1.4K posts
Angularity and reactivity. Immersive Sim. Project Anarres developer. Anarchist. He / Him.
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demiurge.bsky.social
The texture is all done in PS. I generally avoid Substance Painter unless the model is exceptionally complex.
A gray ammo crate for 7.2mm x 6.5mm ammunition. Information stenciled in a green course around the enclosure bearing the marks of being moved and removed. More permanent are the laser cut alphanumerics. High velocity lead-antimony rounds with precise cavities for maximal frangible effect against soft tissues. ST. On a procurement sheet, in polite discussion, across conflict epidemiology papers, "soft tip" is used. Mass stamped in-house at the Villa.
November 13, 2025 at 12:01 PM
demiurge.bsky.social
It must be said that the pixel artistry is just remarkably cohesive and impressive — often startling with a cut to an unexpectedly detailed and unnerving facial expression or artifact. Fantastic colour choices as well.
It's eyes ablaze with orange, a cat of some years stalks across hardwood floors beneath a cold moonlight. A woman a clergyman before the bleached white facade of a small cottage, almost incandescent by juxtaposition of the gray and sodden land engulfing all to the horizon. Sheep grazing on the gray grasses of field, recalling the clouds in their careless idle. A crude and soiled doll, found unearthed in a ground tumulted by worms. Impaling a felt limb is a hairpin and the expression aghast for the injury.
November 7, 2025 at 8:13 AM
demiurge.bsky.social
The Excavation of Hob's Barrow (2022).

One of the best adventure games I've had the pleasure of discovering; a horror triumph commendably deliberate with its gradual escalation. Recalling The Wicker Man (1973) and Wake in Fright (1971), it arrestingly sustains mystery and suspense to the very end.
The beautiful austerity of the moors stretch flat to a planewise union with a gray sky robbed of all distinction and feature. On the grasses are archipelagoes of indigo heather. All in view to a still woman seated in respite on a blue bench; erected for the few in audience of this teeming earth. Scarcely visible in the fog of the night, a woman in work clothes of the previous century's turn stands spectral in the night. Blazing light pierces through the dark from a building of stone and brick. A clergyman in his clerical collar. An abject dilation of surprise plain on his aged countenance; as though a great horror had befallen him. In a garden finely manicured, a paradise displaced, a young girl stands with her father looking at him with adoration. A small circle of mushrooms rings a segment of otherwise level grounds.
November 7, 2025 at 7:54 AM
demiurge.bsky.social
Some ammo boxes I textured recently.

#GameDev #GraphicDesign
Two boxes of non-standard .223 rounds, split with tan and a deep Prussian blue coloration — on its reverse are hazard signs and a silhouette recalling a hawk; the extinct Aeternan Harron. Inside are a maximum of twenty-four soft-tissue rounds produced by Marrabelli Instruments. Three boxes of 19mm DU cartridges. A soft blue, perhaps periwinkle, is laser imprinted with the sharp angular lines of Kreiplex Dynamics. A toxic yellow marks these as using Depleted Uranium; the word chemhazard in majuscule. An Interstellar Securities & Commerce Authority stamp permits these munitions clearance through Folding Corridor transit stations.
November 3, 2025 at 6:15 AM
demiurge.bsky.social
From the demo of BIRDCAGE (2025).

Shoot ‘em ups are sadly not my forte. Previously a non-factor of my life now writ tragic given the sublime aesthetics. If there are any genre enthusiasts among my followers do pursue this.
Ephemeral. At once a sword's edge. Forms that evoke the transience of the heavens and something wrought out of a molten alloy yet undiscovered. The title screen of the "Sword Action Shooting Game" BIRDCAGE. A space station whose central column recalls a spindle. Surrounding it are halos of green light and the angelic clustering of wings, armour pieces or ablation shields. Text speaks of cleaved dominion between powers. This, the space colony of CAGE. "Destroy the WORLD-EGG." A pilot bathed in blue light save for the horizon line and targeting reticles and distance increments shining on the topography of their face. The second part of a question about the purpose of bullets... "when you wield a SWORD?"
November 2, 2025 at 8:01 AM
demiurge.bsky.social
Mars Express (2023).

Among the more impressive animated works of the last decade — relentlessly introducing some novel idea, interaction, implication and complication to a breathtaking degree. I was utterly compelled from the first scene to the credits.

📽️
A man of serene confidence stares beyond a woman whose gaze is severe and an indictment surpassing what could be said. His countenance is reflected in the glass behind housing a novel organic form, cetacean with an eye that stares with knowing. Countless constructed beings ascend a pile of their kind. Robots of every make and dimension and all now heaped in sameness. There are flowers on the seat beside the driver. Above his torso is a holographic head, removed from body as guillotined and separated. Angst is plain on his face and a home with a lawn through the vast windows of the vehicle waits. A vast shuttle whose underside is the black ceramic of atmospheric heat shielding, bathed in aqua landing lights. Beneath the immense launchway, a double decked train disappears into a tunnel beneath. The polluted sky a copper gradient into darkness.
October 26, 2025 at 3:25 AM
demiurge.bsky.social
From the demo of Love Eternal (2025).

Supreme elegance — cardinal directions, jump, flip. Yet how much is wrung from this grammar becomes almost shocking. Further, gorgeous pixel artistry.
A bedroom whose dimension by multiple of the standing young woman with white hair is capacious. There ensconced in blackness, a small rectangle with all of her possessions, it's a suffocating band. The skeleton of a house that has collapsed by its own weight. A brittle silhouette against the walls of a cave that almost suggest the billowing towers of cloud that reign over a sky absent in this view. Brick has been set upon stone. Moss covers both in the foreground of a cave gargantuan to witness. The woman in the red dress is small among these forms built and organic. The contours of the cavern are conspicuous in their logic. Spikes adorn these mirrored curves and a red gem that in light bears the same colour of the woman's dress hovers impossibly between these dangers.
October 23, 2025 at 8:24 AM
demiurge.bsky.social
From the demo of The Séance of Blake Manor (2025).

Among the best surprises of the Next Fest — an investigation game with notable influence from Pathologic (2005) in having a time pressure and every life in the titular hotel at hazard. Captivating mechanically and atmospherically.
A country road of total austerity. From a slate sky a gray rain. Barren mountains through which a carriage is drawn by a blinkered horse. Recognizable within is a man of a city bearing. He's been paid handsomely to retrieve her alive. Broken lenses in their frames. A dour countenance. Pocket watch clutched in claw. The tells of intrigue on a man in reasonable attire, neither extravagant nor rough. A manager. "How fast must it have been going to break through like that, Mister Hunter?" The tall woman asks. A black crow or raven lies beneath the silhouette of a roof window's frame, jagged glass in a circle like placements in a ritual. The severe man reckons with the omen. Lightning casts the exterior in an incandescent flash, scoring the window's muntins across the room. The time approaches midnight.
October 20, 2025 at 10:10 AM
demiurge.bsky.social
WIP. Central container elevator.

#GameDev
The worn hazard paint recalls the heraldry of a different millennium, covering the obverse of two platforms horizontal from intricate tracks that stretch indefinite to a destination above. White geometric print perhaps letters or legible to a machine rise in contrast to blue paneling alongside the pale finishes of the vast mechanism and innumerable subdivisions. A closer view of the interior trackwork — redundant teeth stoppers, lattice metalwork, vented trims, access paneling, decorative painted measures, geometric insets, removable ring bolting and gray hazard tape among other details.
October 20, 2025 at 7:35 AM
demiurge.bsky.social
From the demo of Skate Story (2025).

The perfect foley of polyurethane wheels on concrete and constant musical frisson by Blood Cultures — even the wild lens effects contribute to a glittering experiential bliss. Joining the chorus of recommendation.
A plane of stars. Glittering, distorting, refracting beneath the alabaster flare of the moon. A demon of glass on a skateboard. "In the sky, but still in the underworld." The crude intrusions of face in a cube of concrete. "HappyCube" levels with the glass skateboarder, 'Look. I read one of their *thinkpieces* once.' A discourse of lament amid gray stone architecture. "The skateboard vibrated at a divine frequency." To take or back away? Blue stripes and gradients subtle and steep decorate the underside. Kaleidoscopic is the lens distortion to a focal planetoid like a hellish gas giant. The glass skateboarder balances in this radiant cacophonous light. "Performing different tricks keeps it fresh."
October 19, 2025 at 2:24 AM
demiurge.bsky.social
Identical rows and columns of television screens with an ad of domesticity; snap-finger convenience. The light sears two silhouettes. A man whose long coat conceals the injury he clutches almost as desperate as his hold of a boy's hand being dragged with him. The gait of the young woman is disciplined. Determined. Unlike the teenager beseeching her attention. Behind the arcing yellow columns they walk beneath a news van is among armoured vehicles in the middle of a city of steel. A compact disc jukebox whose selector mechanism is so ornate as to be exposed beneath a viewing window; rotating actuators, a half-circle rail, a collapsing laser tracker, a pristine copper finish. The music is almost beside the point. The funicular's movement is so momentous as to recall a landslide, ejecting accretions of dust and frost on the angled track. Hemmed by a railing that betrays the platform's immensity, hazard stripes that would engulf a person circumference the elevator like the dazzle camouflage of a previous century's battleships. In a darkness greater than all.
October 18, 2025 at 11:37 AM
demiurge.bsky.social
Akira (1988).

I held this in my heart as being an epochal work of animation — somehow that still felt inadequate for just how astonishing every shot was on revisit. Each a world of design and detail and appearing an unfathomable labour immediately displaced by another such achievement.

📽️
A stairway of past tense. Plastic wrappers, cigarette stumps, cans, cracks, graffiti insult, duct tape, ash stains and it was like that when I got here — a young man feels a fresh mat through the wrappings on his feet. The red light gleams a dull pink on the glasses of a driver. His car is jammed among countless others in traffic. A taped console on the dashboard suggests a taxi and all likewise ramshackle in its interior. None are moving. As though neglect had in time eviscerated the dark buildings as a pair, their intestines of metal refuse and conduits spill into an alley. Between the decay is a perfectly maintained motorcycle whose red finish is without scratch or wear. Immense are the skyscrapers that rise as though pullulating from an ancestral form. Each a citadel that now appears a mere palisade of architecture that is the sky itself. Reinforced concrete and windows that gleam gold like printed circuitry or a mail on royal commission. Of a height that their terminus is unseen.
October 16, 2025 at 6:01 AM
demiurge.bsky.social
WIP. Some recent texture experiments — trims really are everything.

#GameDev
In a hallway of antiseptic teal panels, a mechanical fixture painted in a vibrant contrast of white and cobalt. Forty-five degree insets and typographical styling where not rectilinear and salient on this stark design is the acronym "VA". A dull reflectivity on hazard stripes catch a blue light that crests to a glinting of scratches and edge wear on a beige polymer device that curves from the floor. The mechanism forewarned to caution. Intricate metal lattices and supports, a substrate for the negative space of large and metal panels that comprise the walls of a hallway. Crimson is the light that catches upon the corner gleaming of a duct of the hallway.
October 12, 2025 at 10:32 AM
demiurge.bsky.social
Afflicted with swimmer's rash so I can only look upon this jellyfish with envy.
The dome of jelly wrings itself against the current, floating above a landscape of caustic light from waves whose crests draw the countless branches of a weeping tree over a sand topography. Smug little fuckboi — I wish I could immerse myself so!
October 10, 2025 at 5:35 AM
demiurge.bsky.social
From the demo of Sword Hero (2025).

An incredible morsel that gestures towards a masterpiece somehow solo developed. The systemic riches of a Gothic (2001) or Arx Fatalis (2002) enjoined to a fighting system whose weight, consequence and sophistication leaves so much else revealed as milquetoast.
"How come you're back so soon?" The merchant is attired in regal purple in the cobblestone walls of this hold. Stars or silver bursts are scattered over his finery that does not veil the steel prosthetic where all that was his arm below the elbow was once. Tomes and swords and potions of hues various spill over the counter, the shelves, ground, all. Darius is his name. The point of the estoc rests over the shoulder as though a penance weight for a sinner to an obscure order. An iron grate is the sky above, channeling its softness into precise squares. Leaves and bushes overgrow the entrance into the arena whose opening is irregular like a gored hole. Death awaits at least one party.
October 8, 2025 at 3:51 AM
demiurge.bsky.social
I write this after having set a new personal record on dumbbell presses (40kg for 5) and incline curls (25kg for 5) this week and becoming far stronger than I've ever been at this weight.
A gym selfie of yours truly, cropped to show off the developed bicep, brachioradialis and tricep after setting a new personal record for dumbbell presses with a 191cm frame, 87kg.
October 6, 2025 at 5:56 AM
demiurge.bsky.social
This is a photo of Steve Reeves (1926-2000). His physique was attained in what is called the Silver Era of bodybuilding — before steroids. He remained a natural lifter all his life.

To this day, he visibly mogs so many "enhanced" lifters. But there's really no hidden trick in his training approach.
In monochrome, a statue sculpted toward a majesty of impression. Striated muscle flaring out and around and articulating a strength that remains little peered. A countenance as commanding and handsome as any other element of conscious development. It's a black and white photograph of Steve Reeves (1926-2000).
October 6, 2025 at 5:56 AM
demiurge.bsky.social
I cannot overstate the contributions of The Designers Republic. Their artistry is so unspeakably elegant and impressive.
The specifications of a racing craft from Team Feisar. Typography as angled as the vehicle's chassis, minimalist in ornamentation yet every choice disproportionate in effect. Among so many contributions of The Designers Republic. As though a canyon whose walls are scalloped by erosion, the vaulting storeys of a city of concrete, columns and anonymous windows. All beneath a pale sky almost occluded by the towers that rise in dominance of a horizon invisible. This is the world beyond the safety barriers of the track.
October 4, 2025 at 8:03 AM
demiurge.bsky.social
Wipeout 3 (1999).

Still transcendent in raw aesthetics, there's a timeless pleasure in precisely gliding over spiraling tracks of reinforced concrete at five hundred kilometers an hour to Sasha and Orbital.
An angular craft, like a stiletto or a surgical cavity separator, with vibrant livery of teal and yellow floats above the concrete. Meters in width, racing stripes legible at unthinkable speed paint the starting positions by an industrial port servicing a superfreighter larger than a skyscraper. This as all other images to follow is a PC emulated screenshot from Wipeout (1999). The immensity of the track curves down and inwards like a mobius strip of paper. Yellow chevrons adorn the obverse and sides. A craft, white and navy, curves reckless to the implied racing line. Emerald trees and a sky of cyan. Yet the track is shielded from this idyll by towering panes of glass or transparent polymer. A racing craft's engine flares like a phosphorous fire. A machine without superfluous geometry. Teal and yellow and with a vibrant engine flare like a falling star. Its tail elongate over the white stripes of the concrete track; its velocity terrifying.
October 4, 2025 at 7:48 AM
demiurge.bsky.social
First proper swim of the season.
The water is a gradient from bronze sand at its beached thinness, traversing teal and green to an oceanic blue, little distinguished from the peninsula of the horizon. Streaks of pale clouds and gantries paint the vastness of the sky.
October 1, 2025 at 6:01 AM
demiurge.bsky.social
With the fullest euphemism, a shrewd businessman. Yet he also elevated designers as public facing creatives akin to music artists and likewise shared the returns of their success with greater parity. The cover art was also far more mature and aesthetically pleasing than even much today.
The skin of the pilot's hand is black leather. A black control stick reflective in the trained grasp. The thumb almost eclipses the red button of the trigger. The box art for Axis Assassin (1983). Deco essentialism renders the silver painted zeppelin, the gradient from a colloidal horizon to the dark skin dissected by spotlights. A man falls from the vessel to the horror of silhouetted figures on the ground. The box art for Murder on the Zinderneuf (1983). Two mythic dragons, light and dark, entwined in their duality and clutch at their territory upon a pentagram's frame. The box art for Archon: The Light and the Dark (1983). The traveler walks upon the arid ground between the mortarless stones of ruins inestimable in time. Pyramids rise on the horizon and all is juxtaposed to the cosmic firmament speared by a comet. Buoyant in the void is a ringed gas giant. All lays within seeming grasp of the traveler whose cape transitions between triangles, checkerboard and circles in black and white; their headband is gold. The box art for Adventure Construction Set (1984).
September 30, 2025 at 3:52 AM
demiurge.bsky.social
I was taken aback revisiting my screenshots of Deus Ex (2000) after seeing this promotional image from the remaster on the right.
An installation of metal and floodlights at the base of a vast sea wall. From darkness proximate to the player and extending to the waters, a refined wall rises at an angle and is bathed in green. A bipedal robot whose domain is the flat concrete near dark prowls for interlopers. The sky is a black cataract. Violent is the reflection of an aluminum world lustrous in some solar pandemonium. A complex projectile weapon of chrome whose grip is also polished chrome is leveled at an angular mech who fires a mechanical cigarette that emits at choked interval, discrete puffs. Some ancient temple to dithering rises like a anisotropic ziggurat annointed with crimson spot flames. A VHS screen is stapled to the player's weapon.
September 27, 2025 at 11:49 AM
demiurge.bsky.social
I've rounded the ending of Act 3 and still have so much undiscovered. One of the best sequences of the game, an involuntary sojourn, had one of the most fun and consequential bosses hidden in a obscure crevice. Not to be confused with a wholly different boss also optionally found there upon return!
Like the cartography of stars, luminous butterflies mirror the glittering surface of a cavern lake. On this union stands our red dressed figure and their counterpart beneath. A warm glow through the round windows of village suspended from on high. General are the fireflies and the vibrant green clovers that grow upon roofs almost like overlapping tiles. As though a dead tree had grown over decades around her, the red dressed figure finds herself enmeshed between black bark and limb. Each constituent piece a masterwork onto itself. A vast and ornate citadel that rises almost by appearance organically by the sheer population of its spiked domes and columns. As beautiful as it is terrifying.
September 18, 2025 at 4:11 AM
demiurge.bsky.social
I seldom feel daunted by a game. Yet the bosses and gauntlets put before me here make me think, 'That's impossible!'

I set about trying, failing, improving, whiffing, doing wor- surprisingly close and then cakewalking what I thought was impossible. The feeling of success is rarely equaled.
All of a colony of winged beasts take flight, dark against an amber gloaming through which the vast silhouette of the Citadel is seen. Our red dressed figure runs across a bridge, ornate in its wrought scrolls and decorations, paralleled by another in the distance. The red dressed figure skids down a mountainous slope bubbled white by snow or bacillus growth. The view of an artificial turquoise pond is dissected by the elegant and intricate curves of a balustrade. Conspicuously beautiful negative space against the tender gradients of hue. Playing gracefully their needle, the red dressed figure is in a duet with a squat bug before the latter's vibrant stall. Dulcet is the soft red of the lanterns strung above. "Old tribe's gone..." They sing.
September 13, 2025 at 4:03 AM
demiurge.bsky.social
The closest thing to playing Spirited Away (2001). You enter a relentlessly imaginative and constantly surprising world, hostile and enchanting, that has its own arcane schemata and internal logic. Just when you find stability, you fall or breach into a new area and new rules must be discerned.
A statue of a dance that has never concluded, attended by scores of white aphids. Sculpted from stone or shell that by age has become little distinguishable from stone. It is observed by the red dressed figure. As many insects mill about the square, two in proximity harmonize in song. One plucking the silk strung over a needle, the other with a chime and striker, with a cymbal for a broad hat. "In song's embrace..." The red dressed figure stands at precipice of stone that vaults behind them into brush and spinifex. The vista she surveys are mountains of molten rock. The metal staves rise against the gray downpour, stretching off in the distance. Like a pierced sun, a circle impaled from directions cardinal and diagonal. The red dressed figure looks toward a partisan who hoists a polearm with a different design. Whatever distinction in sect or denomination, their fervor is no less.
September 7, 2025 at 11:18 PM