Computer Gigs
we're making a small, gentle video game (kal's valley) where families from many backgrounds have resettled a green valley after a long drought. one of the characters is Lebanese: mira (lebanese; her grandmother is teta). we want someone who is Lebanese - or grew up with it - to read their lines and tell us whether anything is wrong, odd, stereotyped or disrespectful, and what would make them feel more real. all text in the game is lowercase on purpose (a style choice). the valley is vegetarian (family recipes are adapted). the game shows heritage quietly, through food, words and objects, not explanations. about the character: Heritage: Lebanese. She brought her teta's za'atar up from the city for the valley's bread. Who: an engineer from the city grid office, visiting. the lines (one per row, as they appear in the game): - mira - city grid office. i came up to see the show... and then there wasn't one. - the city runs on the valleys' sun. we never send any back. - there's a relay outside my office in the city - the tram'll take you down. switch it through. i'll square it with the others. - that's the city's power running up the valley. about time. - ...is wren - does she still keep the greenhouse? is she well? - take these. teta's thyme, for za'atar. it never did well on a city sill. - bram wrote the papers i learned the grid from. don't tell him. - i brought my teta's za'atar up from the city. the valley's bread needed it. - everything in the city's so big. you can't mend any of it by hand. - the city keeps asking me when. i tell them: when the lane's full. - half the city's waiting on a supper. i love that. - i'll be at the overlook. next to wren, if she'll have me. - i'm staying. wren needs a hand with the beans. ...and i missed her. - back up from the city? it's on your coat. hot metal, wet concrete. - nobody eats at a desk up here. i'm still learning that. - it rains and nobody runs. in the city everyone runs. - in the city a dry week's a number on a screen. here it's a bed. - the city has a warehouse of those. none of them charged. - ...is wren about? no. never mind. - bram built that? the city never made anything so cheerful. - last tram soon. every evening i nearly miss it. - the office thinks i'm at a meeting. it's sort of true. - in the city i'd have a report on this by now. here i just watch. please send back (text): 1. your connection to the culture (e.g. 'telugu, grew up in hyderabad' - no personal details needed) 2. anything wrong or off: words, names (amma, tata, teta, lola...), dishes, customs, how family members are addressed - quote the line and say what you'd change 3. anything that feels stereotyped or like a tourist's view 4. 1-3 small, specific details that would make this family feel more real (a word, a habit, an object, a dish) it's fine to say 'this all feels right' if it does - but please say why.
Computer Gigs
we're making a small, gentle video game (kal's valley) where families from many backgrounds have resettled a green valley after a long drought. one of the characters is Vietnamese: wren (vietnamese; her grandmother is bà nội). we want someone who is Vietnamese - or grew up with it - to read their lines and tell us whether anything is wrong, odd, stereotyped or disrespectful, and what would make them feel more real. all text in the game is lowercase on purpose (a style choice). the valley is vegetarian (family recipes are adapted). the game shows heritage quietly, through food, words and objects, not explanations. about the character: Heritage: Vietnamese. The tin is bà nội's, her grandmother's: rau răm, bitter melon, perilla, beans. Who: the gardener, who keeps the greenhouse and the solar farm. the lines (one per row, as they appear in the game): - oh! you're the one in kal's old house. i'm wren - greenhouse, solar farm, whatever needs doing. - the storm tripped the farm's junction box. the line to the drone base has been dead since. - switch it back through? grey box at the far end of the poles. - and the tin on the crate there - bà nội's seeds. take it. they've sat in the dark long enough. - you did it - hear it hum? - the first panels out there came off the old highway walls. everything here used to be something else. - ...mira's here? from the city? - we were together, in the city. years. i left. she didn't. - mira came by the greenhouse. first time in ten years. - we talked about seeds for an hour. like nothing happened. like everything did. - ...she held my hand at the door. just for a second. - rau răm, bitter melon, perilla... everything in that greenhouse started from bà nội's handful. - she'd pinch a leaf of rau răm and make you smell it. every single time. - if you've seeds to spare, the fallow plots could use them. - there's always more to do than hands to do it. - the first year, the show waited till every cottage down the lane was lived in. it should again. - every cottage lived in. now we feed them. - a show over an empty table? bà nội would never. - i'm saving mira a spot at the overlook. don't tell her. - next spring we plant bà nội's beans. all of us. - rain! that's the watering done. i could kiss it. - smell that? the perilla gives it all up after rain. - dry all week, the board says. i'll be out with the can at dawn. - up already? the panels like the sun before anyone's in it. so do i. - is it lunch? i keep forgetting lunch. - ah - the rau răm! in the rows, not on them! - sorry, wren! we'll go round. - you've got the can! the bed on the rise is always last. always. - you could help, you know. or keep watching. both are nice. - another family down the lane. more hands. more mouths, too. - tonight. i've ironed a shirt. i never iron. - seed, by the greenhouse. take what you need. please send back (text): 1. your connection to the culture (e.g. 'telugu, grew up in hyderabad' - no personal details needed) 2. anything wrong or off: words, names (amma, tata, teta, lola...), dishes, customs, how family members are addressed - quote the line and say what you'd change 3. anything that feels stereotyped or like a tourist's view 4. 1-3 small, specific details that would make this family feel more real (a word, a habit, an object, a dish) it's fine to say 'this all feels right' if it does - but please say why.
Computer Gigs
we're making a small, gentle video game (kal's valley) where families from many backgrounds have resettled a green valley after a long drought. one of the characters is Afro-Surinamese: bram (afro-surinamese). we want someone who is Afro-Surinamese / Surinamese - or grew up with it - to read their lines and tell us whether anything is wrong, odd, stereotyped or disrespectful, and what would make them feel more real. all text in the game is lowercase on purpose (a style choice). the valley is vegetarian (family recipes are adapted). the game shows heritage quietly, through food, words and objects, not explanations. about the character: Heritage: Afro-Surinamese. Greets you "odi!". His mother brought pom to the first show, Rosa's brought mole, and nobody's settled which was better. Who: a tinkerer who built the drones, the helper bots, and Pip. the lines (one per row, as they appear in the game): - odi! bram. i built those drones. and the helper bots. and pip, come to that. - three of my bots are stuck about the valley, and my hands won't hold a wrench any more. - you'd mend them? they're simple things. that was the point. - wren's let that tin out of her sight? then here. pomtajer. - my mother grated it for pom every year. by hand. took her all morning. - it's thirsty, and slow. more patience than i've got, these days. - all three going again! and your scooter - see what they did to it? - i helped build the old grid, you know. when i was young. too big to mend, in the end. - small things can be mended. that's the whole idea. - s drone: his hands won - juni wants a drone of her own. course she does. she's never even seen them fly. - i'd build her one. but look at my hands. can't hold an iron steady. - you be my hands? i'll do the talking. - a motor off one of the old cars on the highway. the cell from the pylon's lamp, by the path. - and props. ravi whittles. he'll say no first. - ...crew nine. pip showed me. - we put that one up in four days. sang the whole time. - it's a flower. whatever rosa says. - that rusted pylon by the path? my generation's. - rosa's mother brought mole to the first show. mine brought pom. nobody's settled which was better. - the old highway ran right through here. now look at it. - fleet's ready. listen to that hum. - ...not for half a valley, though. there's still boards on windows. - my mother wouldn't let the drones up till the pom was on the table. nor will i. - listen to that hum. - alright. it was both. a flower and a sun. - both hands on that. i'd have it in the grass by now. - got it loose? good. send it round to me after. it'll want looking at. - odi! mind the - well. it's your scooter now. - hear those rotors? mine. sweet as anything. - i steer, mostly. - drowned? hang it on kal's line. dry by lunch. - don't watch the hands. watch the work. - good blow. kal's turbines'll be singing. - coffee's on. it's always on. rosa says that's the trouble. - too much pom last night. no such thing, my mother said. - can't sleep either? the old grid hummed at this hour. i miss the hum. - anything that won't go. i'll tell you why. please send back (text): 1. your connection to the culture (e.g. 'telugu, grew up in hyderabad' - no personal details needed) 2. anything wrong or off: words, names (amma, tata, teta, lola...), dishes, customs, how family members are addressed - quote the line and say what you'd change 3. anything that feels stereotyped or like a tourist's view 4. 1-3 small, specific details that would make this family feel more real (a word, a habit, an object, a dish) it's fine to say 'this all feels right' if it does - but please say why.