The key to functioning as an expert member of The Dangerous Kitchen—as judged from the strenuous research I have undertaken as an undercover alien intelligence à la Under the Skin—is: to think approximately half of what the average human-being does and pray to some unknown deity that everything works out.

Working this way is efficient I must admit, but the hardest aspect one will inarguably fall upon, is the clashing of art styles. Creating assets that will ultimately be a part of the same digital-body needs care and attention to make them work holistically. Using the artistic, automatic abilities these humans employ can be hazardous, yet strangely fun. Logic is a foul stench in the grand scheme of existence.

Before the prototype has been constructed by the cosmic-overseer they call the coder, aligning the brain waves of every team member to understand the mechanics of the game is necessary, but arduous. The system takes time to be absorbed into human brain tissue and once absorbed, digested. A design document is crafted to empower the team and overseer with the thinly veiled illusion of hope.

This hope’s success rate is almost directly correlated with that fiendish  bean-based brain accelerator known as coffee. It’s what drives the steady, forward movement they make and what the blame will fall upon when they ultimately fail.

– The Dangerous Kitchen

Dear Diary,

So, it has begun, as they say in some parts of Outworld. Currently the sanity levels are stable and the subtle smell of coffee, breakfast and dread silently float around like a harrowing grim reaper-parrot on our shoulder.

Food time has ended—a foiled barrage of homely goods—consumed upon with mild Animal Crossing sound waves to punctuate the grotesque munching sounds.

The development of a game is scary and intriguing, devastating and explorative, depressing and delightful. A fake tree opposite gently sways with a striking grandeur that reminds one of the fragility of the human mind.

This project will be the end of us all.

– The Dangerous Kitchen