So I recently read a thread over on Twitter by GB 'Doc' Burford about Disco Elysium (a game I haven't played) about how fleshing out a character and exploring a character doesn't necessarily count as an endorsement of that character's beliefs or ideals. That got me thinking about a game I'm working on and how what are essentially the main antagonists are some of the flattest characters I've ever written (and I've wrote about a rapping horse ghost whose only concerns are bars and free cheese). 

One of those characters is a soulless corporation and I think I'm okay with the direction I'm going there.

But that other character doesn't even have a name! And I've even used them in another game before: this game! It's the villain! (well there are two villains, but I'll explain that later)

In That House, one of the villains is the house itself. A demon that only exists as various structures across time and space. Houses, apartments, warehouses, stores, etc etc. This demon feeds on human misery, and is known for using capitalism as a tool to extract their food. It's MO for centuries was to latch onto a family line until they exhausted that food source. Rinse, repeat.

Well the protagonist of the house is a member of the family this demon is currently attached to. They get pulled back into the house by the real villain of the game: the protagonist's father. Someone who's only seen a few times, one of which is in a sort of 'blank space' area inside the demon where he's seen bargaining with the demon in exchange for something. I was going to include some of the demon's dialogue at one point buuuut Bitsy isn't a fan of long dialogue.

Anyway, so the main story of the game is the father figure (one instance of him anyway) bargains with this demon, knowing that it can exist across timelines. What he's bargaining for is a different version of his child, what he thinks is a 'better' one. This demon, knowing this family is on it's last legs agrees and pulls ALL versions of the protagonist into itself to consume them all and find one that will suit the father. The version of the protagonist you play as manages to reach the original instance of this demon, a fire near the site or a tragedy. While at this fire they too try bargaining with the demon, who agrees to let go of the family and let them go home. Unfortunately for the protagonist, they are sent back to the wrong universe, fulfilling the father's wish.

The whole thing was inspired a bit by the shining and originally meant to be about toxic environments and exhausted employment. Trying to help others get out, but sticking around because you have no where else to go. But I was having trouble getting the Bitsy dialogue choices hack to work, so I tried to reinvent the game when I stumbled on this quote, I can't find who it's from Andrew Solomon:

Read that again. This is what we hear when you mourn over our existence. This is what we hear when you pray for a cure. This is what we know, when you tell us of your fondest hopes and dreams for us: that your greatest wish is that one day we will cease to be, and strangers you can love will move in behind our faces.
...
You didn't lose a child to autism. You lost a child because the child you waited for never came into existence. That isn't the fault of the autistic child who does exist, and it shouldn't be our burden. We need and deserve families who can see us and value us for ourselves, not families whose vision of us is obscured by the ghosts of children who never lived. Grieve if you must, for your own lost dreams. But don't mourn for us. We are alive. We are real. And we're here waiting for you.

That led me down the path to what the game is about now, how ableism can manifest in the home and turn into an internal force instead of just an external. Those two pressures bearing down on a neurodiverse individual can send them spiraling until they can face the origin of it, or lose themselves in a loop of masking.

Anyway...that's an explanation of this game, That House (I really wanted to name it just House...but I feel like that name was too bland).