021: The One About “Bad” Games with Good Art

From the first days in the trenches when he found the first, Ellington’s Bones spoke to him. It took him weeks to determine that the dissonant whispers nagging at the back of his mind, edging in from his periphery, were emanating from the bone of unknown origin in the mud. A rat femur. Or rabbit, perhaps.The whispers never calmed though, not until he found more. Overlaying tones coalescing into something, though he was never quite sure what. But they spoke, he was sure of that.He worked them and they helped him. He lived through the war because of them, and he found his livelihood too. The Empties though, he was never quite sure if he found them or the Bones did.Visit the website | Join the discord | Follow us on TwitchSocial LinksEric is MrTheHumanGianni is GianniDiCrostaNate is HeroicHeadgearPhil is Phil Bothun