Where No Screen Remains
On stories, and what they ask of us.It begins with stories. That’s the starting point, where everything else comes from. _I’m a storytelle_r. Not a game designer who happened to need a plot, not a filmmaker without a budget. Stories. It’s that simple, and that old. People have been telling each other stories since we could sit around a fire, not for distraction, but because otherwise we wouldn’t know what we feel.
That’s why text. No graphics, no spoon-fed images. Text leaves room, and that room isn’t a lack. It’s where the reader enters. What you fill in yourself exists only for you. The scariest corner of a room is the corner you make in your head. No renderer matches that, because no renderer knows you.
No explosive violence. No chases, no fireworks to hold your attention. Quiet. Time to read what’s there, time to feel what a character feels. Attention is a form of respect, for the story and for yourself. A good story doesn’t need bangs to land.
Het Laatste Dorp works that way. Ten episodes, text, choices that matter. A village where things are wrong, and the haze I leave to you. I write what a character hears, what a character thinks, what a character tries to push away. The rest you do. And you’re always more precise than I can be.
That’s the philosophy. Not out of nostalgia, not because I can’t do anything else. Because a story only really matters when it lands somewhere no screen remains. In a head. In a night. In a memory you didn’t expect.